#got this idea in head and needed to get it out

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more crazy antics of Oldest Batkid Danny!?

In particular order, here are ten things Danny "The Mence" Fenton-Wayne has done after being adopted by Bruce when his parents sold him to a lab:

1. Danny once flooded Wayne Manor before he found out Bruce and Batman were the same person. He thought Batman was a vampire and the running water would stop him. If they all drowned in the process, they at least would not suffer being vampire food.

2. Alfred has a rule that every Wayne needs to work part-time to be humble and appropriate working class. Danny created his own business of leading people on ghost tours and made SURE they always saw one. He purposely pointed at people in school after word got around and whispered, "The spirits want you." Everyone freaked.

3. Dick made ONE comment of people being mean to him in school for being raised in the circus. Danny cut the power in Gotham Academy and released laughing clowns animatronics waving chainsaws into the hallways. They were programmed to avoid "Fellow Circus folk" painting Dick as a hero when he walked his terrified classmates out .

4. During a live interview, Danny twisted the questions on the host, who was attempting to make Bruce look like a bad Father. He then painted Bruce as someone showing severe signs of depression (overly drinking, too many smiles, giving people too many gifts, vanishing from the public eye, and searching for comfort in someone's arm) and then making the host cry by psycho-analyzing him.

5. Organized a protest for affordable housing and kept kicking the gas grenades back at the cops when they were called on him. It took seven people to get him into a cop car in handcuffs, and he was hissing the entire time. When Bruce attempted to bail him out, Danny moved the funds to get the innocent people out and refused to get out of the cell until the cop who punched him cried.

6. He shaved Clark's head because he couldn't scare him with a knife. Clark was more impressed that he did it without him waking up. He left oniomous messages written in what Clark thinks is blood on his walls, saying, "Stay away from my Dad. Keep it in your pants."

7. Armed with a clipboard, Danny habitually throws people out of Bruce's galas. He doesn't even explain himself; he just pops up, points at someone, and shakes his head. A security team swarms the person and tosses them out before they can get a word in. Bruce did not hire that security team. (Danny throws out people flirting with Bruce)

8. He was accused of being Batman or working with him once. He responded with a smile and a gentle, "If I were Batman, I wouldn't have let any of them live." Everyone agreed there was no possible way he wouldn't go for the kill if he had the chance and never questioned him again about it.

9. He Got the words "Peace was never an option" tattooed on his back by a Crime Alley tattoo parlor. Bruce had to then bail him out again when Danny fought off a gang who attempted to mug him as he was leaving the alley with his new tattoo. He had proof it was self-defense and spent the entire news coverage gushing about the tattoo artist's skills instead of the mugging.

10. Every time Bruce brought a new kid after Dick to the house, they were under the impression Danny was a violent, unreasonable person. They were shocked to learn he's the most in touch with his emotions, regularly does self-improvement, keeps up with his therapy, and is so soft with them; he is the walking embodiment of Doting Big Brother. In his hero persona, he is just as gentle and fondly looked upon by the masses. It took them a moment to realize that Danny had copied Bruce's idea of keeping his hero and civilian ID separate. The only difference is that his Hero version is the Brucie, and his Civilian version Is the Batman.

[watchmegetobsessed]

DO ANYTHING

A/N: some dirty boxx!harry x assistant!yn for yall on this fine evening

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: You're Harry's date for an evening, but it's only professional, you're his assistant after all. But when his ex-wife shows up, things take a turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The sight in the mirror has never seemed more surreal than right now. The old mirror in the corner of your studio apartment has seen you in so many different outfits, work clothes, party dresses, stained sweats and even a Shrek costume (you were never the kind to dress up in something hot for a Halloween costume), but as you’re staring at your form right now, it just feels… not at all real. 

The designer dress is hugging your frame so perfectly, you’re wondering if it was tailored to your body, it’s long, but on the right side there’s a pretty high slit, showing off quite a lot of bare skin when you’re walking and the top is pretty out of your comfort zone as well with the neckline dipping so low, you keep checking if the girls are in place. And to top it all off, the back of the dress is… well, almost nonexistent, the fabric only covers you from a little above the waist down. 

Your hair is pulled up into a loose updo, your makeup is not too much, but just enough to enhance your favorite features and you’ve just stepped into your heels a minute ago to check the whole look, but you’re already afraid you might trip and fall at one point in the evening. 

If you had the chance you’d probably spend hours standing in front of the mirror, pointing out every tiny detail in your appearance that is just not right or feels absolutely hideous on you, but when you hear your phone chime on the desk you jump at the sound and tear your eyes away from your reflection. 

The screen has lit up, showcasing a text and though you already know who it is, your heart still starts pounding when you see the name in the notification. 

HARRY: I’m outside.

Taking a deep breath you grab the phone and type a quick reply before dropping it into your clutch and heading down before you could change your mind. 

Originally it seemed like a good idea to accompany your boss to this charity event he was invited to, the tickets were bought a year ahead of the event, a month prior to his divorce, so after everything went down with his ex, he needed a new partner, but he refused to look for one and then one day he just simply threw it in at one of your meetings that you should be the one coming with him. 

“But… I’m your assistant,” you said, probably with a stunned face. 

“Yeah. So it’s settled, you’re coming,” he simply nodded and then added that he would get you a dress and an appointment at a salon for the evening. 

After some thinking it actually made sense that you’d be his partner for the evening, but then the thinking kept going and when you got to the realization that you’d be your multi millionaire boss’ date for a fancy event while you’re still secretly in love with the man, things started to look a lot less ideal. 

It’s a cliché, you know it, falling for your charming boss while working as his assistant, you’ve seen this movie and read all the books, but you knew from the first moment the ending would be different for you. However, that didn’t stop you from falling for him more and more every day. 

And now you’re his date for the night and even though you know it’s nothing more, just practically a task, a job, you can’t help but be excited and frightened at the same time.

When you step out of the building and see the sleek black car waiting by the curb with him leaning against it in his suit, looking like he just stepped out of the pages of a magazine, your ankles wobble for a moment at the sight. 

Harry Styles tends to have this reaction on people, as you’ve learned in the two years you’ve been working as his assistant. He is a charming, handsome and incredibly talented businessman who is just simply liked by everyone. It’s one of his talents that he can easily shape himself according to who he is talking to and get them to practically be obsessed with him, which is a quite useful thing when you’re trying to build a business empire and need other people’s help. 

But you also got to see his real self as well, the caring, smart and funny man who has sacrificed so much for his business but stayed just as humble as he was when he moved to the States from the small town in England where he grew up. 

Harry Styles is simply the most wonderful man you’ve ever known. It’s no surprise you found yourself falling in love with him while working for him, though he always tells you he prefers to say that you work with him.

When he notices you stepping out he takes a tiny step forward and for a moment you see something on his face that makes your whole body light on fire instantly, but you can’t actually pinpoint what it is. 

You start walking down the stairs and pray silently that you don’t just trip and fall down, but Harry is quick to rush up to you and offer his hand. 

“Thank you,” you chuckle nervously.

“You look wonderful,” he murmurs lowly, sending a shiver down your spine and you pray he doesn’t notice the goosebumps on your exposed skin. 

Well, today is not your lucky day.

“Are you cold?” he asks, as you reach the car. 

“Um, just a little. It’s alright.”

He only nods, opens the door and helps you into the car. 

You’ve sat in this seat a million times before, mostly going to meetings, yet you sit now as if it’s a completely new experience, back straight, knees pressed together tightly, making sure you’re as ladylike as possible. 

“You seem tense,” he comments, a sense of playfulness in his voice that eases your nerves a little. 

“It’s just… not my usual Friday evening,” you flash him a smile, which he returns warmly. “I memorized all the names of the people you should talk to tonight, I have some info about–”

“Y/N, you’re not working tonight,” he cuts you off with a wave. “I don’t want you to assist me, you’re here to enjoy it.”

It’s not the first time he said he doesn’t want you to be in work mode tonight, but it’s hard to turn it off when you’re around him. It’s also become your way of keeping yourself in check, categorizing your time spent with him as work helps you not to fall into a spiral and get lost in your feelings, but it seems like you have to put it aside, which is quite dangerous. 

You whisper a faint okay and then just continue panicking in your head. 

The event is nothing short of what you imagined it to be. Lots of influential people, amazing food, expensive drinks and… money. Everything is oozing… money. 

At first you’re certain that you stand out like a sore thumb, that everyone you’re introduced to just knows you don’t belong there, that you’re an impostor. 

But then you feel Harry’s palm on your exposed back, your skin burns under his touch and while it gives you a different kind of nervousness, it also tones down what you feel about being among all these wealthy people. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning close to your ear. 

“Yeah,” you nod, but when your eyes meet his gaze, you know he sees right through you. “It just feels… odd.”

“What exactly feels odd?”

“Being here. As a guest. It’s not quite the place I go to usually.”

“Me neither.”

You give him a confused look, because you know for a fact he attends events like this about every other week. But then you see the smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth and it makes you laugh. 

“Such a liar,” you scoff, but it just widens his grin.

“Always calling me out on my bullshit,” he chuckles softly. 

He loves to joke about how you’re the only one to call him a liar, people tend to fear to call him out, not wanting to go against him and his power, but you never hesitate to do so even if he’s just joking. To be fair, in the first few months you were one of those bowing people, but as time went by and you got to know more of the amazing man Harry is, you stripped this fear down and now just one look is enough for him to know that you’re onto him. 

It takes quite some time for you to stop being a rattled little deer caught in the headlights, but eventually you’re able to loosen up. Harry’s presence brings a sense of safety as well, he is great at leisurely leading a conversation without others noticing, so he also has the chance to only bring up topics you feel comfortable talking about. Every time someone tries to chat about something controversial or deeply political, Harry is quick to steer the conversation to safer territories and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. He knows how you feel talking about such risky topics with people with such influence.

Other than Harry, the champagne also helps to ease your nerves, though you make sure not to drink too much that might cloud your rational side that keeps you in check still. 

But you’re definitely a bit tipsy, just enough to have your thoughts float to places they probably shouldn’t. And when Harry’s palm returns to your back, just a simple touch to pull you closer to him and out of the way of a bypassing couple, something shifts inside you. 

A feeling you’ve been eager to keep locked in the back of your mind surfaces and you barely catch yourself.

Harry’s divorce was finalized five months ago. The three months period leading up to it was tough on him, though only a few knew about it and you were one of those. You tried your best to support him in such a trying time and it seemed that he was glad to have his mind taken off his personal issues. He was definitely using work as a coping mechanism and you happily assisted him in anything, often staying at the office with him until eleven in the night and then starting it all over again at eight in the morning. 

These long days however turned into something more than just an escape. Harry never let you stay without ordering dinner for the two of you that you often ate at his desk, staring down at the night lights of the city. He made one rule for these late nights, that you can’t talk about work while eating and that forced you to conquer other topics in life. 

Some days you stopped working at seven, but only left the office past ten, because you got so tangled in a conversation that time flew by. Every time you finished so late that it was dark outside Harry insisted driving you home and while at first you felt self-conscious to have him see the neighborhood you live in, which is not at all bad, but definitely can’t compare to his penthouse in the heart of the city, you slowly let go of these toxic thoughts and enjoyed the extra time you got to spend with him. 

You don’t remember the point where the doubts started, but somewhere along his healing journey a feeling settled in your chest that it might be something more. That Harry might want something more. 

At first you felt ridiculous to even think about your boss wanting anything to do with you other than work. But as one evening spent alone with him turned into another, there were tiny, almost unnoticeable things that kept fueling this thought to the point where you couldn’t ignore it. 

It was in the way he looked at you, talked to you and cared for you. No matter how much you tried to tell yourself that it’s just his general character, you always circled back to the what ifs. Unfortunately, this state of mind didn’t help with how rapidly you were falling for him. 

Now, as you feel his hand on your bare skin, the feeling instantly crawls its way up your spine and when your gaze meets his, you see something in it that throws you off the edge, but still can’t put your finger on it. 

“Why don’t we check out that buffet table?” he suggests. You’ve refused to eat since you’ve arrived, not wanting to look bloated in this dress, but now you can’t say no and your champagne filled tummy would surely appreciate something solid. 

“Let’s go.”

There’s so much food and everything looks mouthwatering, you can’t even decide what to try. Harry suggests filling a plate with a bit of everything to try them and then you can have a second round of what you liked the most. Soon enough, you’re sitting at a table in the corner with a plate full of food, sharing with Harry.

Your boss. 

“What’s with rich people and mini hamburgers?” you ask, holding up one. “Why can’t they just make… a full size? I have to eat like five of these to equal a whole.”

“It’s bite-size,” Harry grins and steals the other one off the plate. “People don’t start munching on a double cheeseburger in a gown or tuxedo.”

“Alright, you’ve got a point.”

Shifting in your seat you try to move your feet a bit, the ache the heels give you starting to get to you, but you’re pushing through it. But you weren’t as subtle as you thought, Harry catches a frown on your face and he is quick to figure out what’s bothering you.

“How bad do your feet hurt?”

“Ah, it’s alright,” you shrug, but your eyes widen when Harry reaches down, his hands finding your leg under the table and they brush down your calf, pulling your foot towards him until it’s laid on his thigh. He keeps one hand on your shin while the other one gently presses and massages your foot as much as the stiletto heel lets him. 

“They look amazing, but I kind of miss your sneakers,” he grins at you. 

“They are surely comfier,” you chuckle. 

“Thank you for coming with me, Y/N. These things are usually awfully boring to me.”

“And this time is different?” you smile absentmindedly, turning towards the plate once again to get another bite, but you’re quickly stopped by his words.

“Everything is different with you.”

This time that feeling is pulsating in your chest. When your gaze meets his, your breath hitches for a moment, his hands are still on your leg and foot, but they’ve stopped massaging, they are just gently resting on you, bringing you an odd sense of comfort. 

You have no idea what to say but you open your mouth to reply just when you spot a familiar figure over Harry’s shoulder across the room and your adrenaline spikes instantly as you pull your leg back and sit up right, already feeling her piercing eyes on you, because she spotted you.

Harry’s ex-wife. 

Your blood runs cold as you try to avoid looking her way, attempting to ignore her presence, but the change in you is obvious for Harry and he is quick to turn around and it doesn’t take him long to notice Stella. 

If you’re being honest their whole relationship was quite a mystery for you. Stella is a model turned actress who met Harry at some kind of event about five years ago. His business was skyrocketing at that time, everyone was talking about his sudden success while Stella was making headlines for dating practically every bachelor in Hollywood. Somehow, they found common ground and tied the knot a little over a year after they met. For the next three years they were seen quite often together out in the city or on vacation, attending events or taking photos with fans of Stella. Seemingly, they were a great couple, the public loves it when two incredibly hot people get together and they can live their life through the photos they post or in this case, Stella posts. She loves using social media and most of the content that featured Harry came from her, allowing little glimpse into their life that seemed absolutely perfect from the outside. 

But then about a year ago Harry started disappearing from Stella’s platforms, they were seen less and less out in public and it went on until their divorce was announced. Well, Harry announced nothing, but Stella went on an Instagram live to tell her fans what’s been going on. In her narrative they simply grew apart and decided it’s better to separate, but you were already working for Harry when it all went down and though you don’t know the whole story, you’re certain there was a lot more behind it all. 

Stella used to appear at the office before, she never stayed long and sometimes you could hear them fighting in his office before she stormed off. The next day you usually saw a post from her online that was showcasing to the world how madly in love they are, but you saw through that facade. 

You never dared to ask him about what happened, not even when you were having deeper conversations with him in the night in his office and Harry never brought it up. But one thing was sure, their parting wasn’t as peaceful as Stella tried to make it appear. 

And now when you see him freeze and tense for a moment at the sight of her, you know that it was a nasty ending. 

Harry is quick to recover, he pretends like he didn’t see her as he turns back to you. 

“So, do you want more mini burgers?” he asks with a smile, but it’s different, definitely not as real as it was before. 

“Um, I think I’m good for now,” you smile back, ignoring how your stomach has shrunk from the anxiety Stella’s presence just gave you. “I’m gonna find the restroom quickly,” you say, standing from the table, eager to have a moment to yourself and maybe try to level yourself. 

“Okay,” Harry nods and you practically run off in the direction of the restrooms. 

Once you’re in there, you lean onto the sink and try to regulate your breathing. The woman looking back at you from the mirror looks just like you, yet you feel like you’re an entirely different person. 

You wash your hands and then hold a cold hand to your chest, feeling your own pounding heart under your touch. You will yourself to get it together and then finally make your way out. 

You have no idea at this point where tonight is heading, one moment Harry is saying awfully ambiguous things, then his ex-wife appears and it’s like the room has frozen. 

You don’t see Harry by the table where you left him, so you stop and scan over the sea of guests, relief settling in your chest when you spot him only to be thrown over the edge right after that when you realize he is talking to Stella.

They are standing by the wall, a bit away from the rest of the guests and from what you can see, they are in some kind of quiet argument. At first, you’re hesitant to interrupt them, but then you change your mind and slowly start to walk closer. You catch none of their conversation, not even when you get in earshot. Harry spots you approaching and he is quick to end their little talk and walk over to you. 

“Everything alright?” you ask in a high pitched voice. 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Why would I? Do you want to leave?” He seems confused, but also tense at the same time. 

“I just thought that…” Your gaze wanders over to Stella who has moved back to her own date, pretending like she didn’t just run into her ex. “Can I do anything to help?”

He looks at you with a stunned expression that you can’t quite decipher. 

“To help?” he repeats after you. 

“Yeah, I would do anything to… to make you feel better,” you say with a dying voice, eager to not let this evening turn into a nightmare for him. 

He exhales through his nose, looking away from you for a second before his eyes return to your face, but his expression has changed. It’s fierce, full of a fire you don’t remember ever seeing in his eyes. 

“Anything? Y/N…”

“Yes, anything!” you nod eagerly, taking a tiny step closer to him. “I know I’m just your assistant, but I–”

The words die on your lips when his mouth covers them, practically knocking you out of your heels, but luckily, he is quick to wrap an arm around your waist while his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw as he kisses you like no man has ever done before. 

You’ve fantasized about what kissing Harry would feel like way too many times, but nothing compares to this moment, as his lips are so eagerly moving with yours while your whole body is pressed tightly against him, but not just because he is keeping you close, you’re also keep pushing against him, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible. 

Your hands move to the base of his neck and then into his hair at the back of his head right when his tongue pushes against yours and you can’t help a moan that slips into his mouth, which has him feral. 

His hand on your jaw moves a bit lower to your neck, his thumb slipping under your chin so he can easily angle your head just how he wants. His other hand is still on your exposed back, his touch is burning on your naked skin as it drags down over your spine, reaching where the fabric of your dress starts. He stops there, but a few moments later his fingers sneakily dip under the hem and it just fuels the fire burning inside you. 

Not too willingly, but he slows the kiss down until his lips pull back, but he keeps his forehead pressed against yours for a bit longer before he leans back, looking at you. His lips are sparkling from your lipgloss, his hair is no longer neatly combed thanks to your fingers and his eyes radiate a new kind of energy, one that you haven’t quite seen from him. 

Your cheeks and neck are burning from the heat that’s spreading through your veins and then your gaze catches how your hands are still on the base of his neck and a sudden wave of shock comes over you as it all settles in your mind: you just made out with Harry, your boss. 

Curling your lips between your teeth you look away and immediately spot Stella by one of the tables, staring right at you with a stern look on her nearly perfect face and then realization hits you.

Harry kissed you to make her jealous, it was all just a show for her.

Your chest feels like a rock suddenly, like everything inside you has turned solid and you feel heavier than ever before, but you don’t want him to see the utter disappointment you’re currently going through.

“Um, sh-she is still watching, we can–I mean if we kissed a-again she would… see…” You can’t stop your voice from shaking and you know he sees right through you in an instant. He follows your gaze over to Stella, then quickly looks back at you.

And surprisingly, he becomes angry. 

“You think this was because of her? That I did it because Stella was watching?”

Harry was never the kind to humiliate you or bite your head off if you gave him a wrong answer, but right now you feel like if you don’t say the right thing he will flip.

Unfortunately, you have no idea what would be the right answer at this moment. 

“I-I don’t… I mean…” You’re a stuttering mess and though Harry’s gaze is burning right now, you can’t look away. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbles under his breath and before you could get another word out he grabs your wrist firmly, but not enough to hurt you and he starts pulling you towards the exit. 

“What–Where are we going?” you ask, trying your best to keep up with him in your heels. When he notices you’re having a hard time with the pace he is dictating he slows down a bit, placing a hand to your lower back and then pushing you forward from then. 

“We’re leaving,” he simply answers while fishing his phone out of his jacket’s pocket with his free hand, texting the driver, you assume. 

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask when you’re walking down the stairs after leaving the building behind, but he just grunts and leaves you unanswered. 

Reaching the pavement he’s craning his neck with a frustrated expression on his face, looking for the car probably even though he literally just texted the driver. 

“Harry, I don’t understand what’s happening,” you admit, desperate to get him to speak before you lose your mind. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Upset me?” he exhales, finally looking at you again. “Y/N, I–” His hands rake through his hair harshly before they fall to his side. “What do you think happened in there?” he then asks, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“I don’t… We kissed,” you unsurely say, voice barely more than just a whisper. He deflates and stepping closer he cradles your cheek in one hand and you involuntarily lean into his touch. 

“Why do you think we kissed?”

“Because… Stella–”

You don’t even get to finish before he shakes his head no and cuts you off.

“Stella has nothing to do with it.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare back at him, your whole body buzzing as you wait for him to continue. “I was holding onto my last thread of self control all night and it snapped when you offered to do anything to make me feel better and I never wanted you more than in that moment. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wrapped around your finger, Y/N,” he chuckles defeatedly. “Stella and I had a fight because she told me she always knew I would end up with you, that she knew I was into you from the first moment.”

You want to say something, but words die on your tongue as you just keep listening to him.

“And guess what?”

“What?” you breathe out.

“She was… right. I’ve wanted you probably since you walked into your interview. I thought I could push it aside and focus on the professional side only, but you were just always on my mind.”

“But you were married!” you protest, suddenly feeling dizzy that you might have been the reason his marriage ended.

“On paper, but we were already having lots of issues by the time you started working for me. I gave it everything to try to work things out, but it just got worse and in the meantime I couldn’t just ignore my want for you.”

The car finally pulls up beside you, but you don’t move just yet.

“Harry…”

“We’ll get into that car now and I’ll let you think things through, I wouldn’t want to push anything on you, okay?”

You just nod, even though you have a lot to say, but you keep it in for now. Harry lets go of you and opens the door, helping you into the car before taking the seat next to you. You’re breathing heavily, mind racing as the car leaves the curb and you give yourself about ten seconds of peace before you flip your whole world upside down.

Luckily, the partition is up so the driver can’t see the back and you know for a fact the windows are so tinted no one can tell what’s happening inside. It gives you enough courage to jump into action. 

You’ve never been the bold type, but the fire Harry has lit inside you is now urging you to leap out of your comfort zone. You slide closer on the seat to Harry, grab his face between your hands and kiss him without hesitation. There’s a moment of surprise on his end, but he recovers almost instantly, his hands moving to your waist as he kisses you back fiercely. He is pulling you, probably with the intention of just getting you as close as your sitting position lets you, but it’s not enough for you, so with another bold move you pull back but just for a second so you can sling a leg over him and settle on his lap. The high slit of your dress luckily allows you to sit comfortably and as you lower yourself you feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants, giving away just how much he wants you. His hands move to your exposed back, fingers digging into your skin while your lips collide once again and you swallow a moan of his when you roll your hips against his, his restrained cock meeting with your clothed center. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he breathes against your mouth and you can’t help a smirk that tugs on your lips, but it quickly turns into an O shape when one of his hands drop down to your ass, grabbing a handful of you so roughly you wouldn’t be surprised if he left a mark on you. With his grip on you, you start rolling your hips again and don’t even try to hold back your moans. 

“Y/N, you keep doing that and…”

“And what?” you challenge him. He stares back at you, as if he is making sure this is what you want, but you couldn’t be more sure. You want him, you need him and you need him right now. 

Before your insecurities could get to you, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting the fabric pool around your waist.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out before he pulls you in for another kiss. 

It’s not the most ideal place and it’s not easy to move around, but you manage to unbuckle his belt and push his pants down just enough so you can reach into his underwear, palming his hard cock eagerly. As an answer to your touch, he bites into your bottom lip, making you moan and it distracts you just enough so he can reach between your legs, pulling the fabric of your underwear to the side. When two of his fingers slide between your drenched folds his name leaves your lips like a plea and your head falls back when he starts teasing your clit. 

“So fucking wet for me, I can’t wait to bury myself in this pussy,” he groans before his mouth latches onto your neck, kissing and sucking and biting on the soft skin.

Your hips start moving again, his fingers working you like an instrument and your body is singing for him perfectly. You’re losing your patience, the need to feel him inside you is becoming unbearable. Your hands get to work and you eagerly pull his cock out of his underwear, instantly wrapping your palm around him, gasping when you realize just how big he really is. 

“You want it right now?” he asks, lifting his head. 

“Yes please!”

“Such a good girl for me.”

He pulls his hand back from between your legs, moving them to your hips as he guides you forward, angling his cock up to your cunt. 

“Are you gonna take me well, baby?”

“Yes,” you nod and then start moving yourself down, gasping as he slowly fills you up, stretching your walls so perfectly. “Oh fuck!”

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, letting you get used to his size, squeezing your hips in encouragement. You’re breathing heavily, taking some time unmoving, while Harry leans forward and starts peppering your breasts with kisses, then his mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue twirling around it sensually. 

Slowly, you start moving, up and down, back and forth, your mouth hangs open as you feel him move inside you so perfectly. 

“That’s it, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans, his head falling back on the headrest as you start to pick up your pace.

“Harry,” you moan, feeling your inside burning as your orgasm starts building up.

“I know baby, I know.”

His hands are everywhere, on your back, waist, your chest and neck and on the back of your head as he pulls you down for another fierce kiss. 

You keep calling out his name as you get closer to your climax and when he reaches down and starts playing with your clit, you lose your mind. 

He comes right before you and you try to stretch his orgasm as long as possible by squeezing him while you ride your own high, you both are a mess, lips smacking, hands groping, it’s the best you’ve ever felt. 

When you finally start calming down you dare to look at him with clear eyes. Harry brushes your hair out of your face and smiles at you with awe.

The car comes to a stop and you realize you’ve arrived at your apartment building. 

“If you’re not opposed to spending the night in a shoebox sized studio apartment, I would love it if you came up,” you tell him bashfully. His smile grows into a wide grin.

“That shoebox sized apartment sounds like the best place on earth right now.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ghstzzn]

—so confusing

☹︎ because being just friends clearly isn’t working out anymore.

or, your best friend going from avoiding you to letting you dry hump him after an emotional confession.

pairing: yang jungwon x f!reader genre: smut/suggestive, f2l

tags/warnings: smut/suggestive, dry humping, weed usage and mentions, nobody gets too high, completely consensual and he cums in his pants, fluffy shit, he calls her a brat a few times but in a cute way :) MDNI! barely proofread! lmk if i missed any mistakes :3 3.8k words

💭 : yeah its fluffy. idk man. it was supposed to be nasty but i got really emotional.

jungwon was living in the prime years of his life. 

a full ride scholarship in one of the best universities in the country, a tight knit group of friends, the professor’s favorite… and yet, here he was, sitting alone in some basement at a party he should’ve skipped out on as he smoked someone else's weed.

you and jungwon had entered this college together, being study buddies bloomed into something deeper and now you both were each other's treasure— best friends. 

jungwon never once wanted to stay just friends, in fact, he used to have a crush on you when you first became friends. but you were dating someone— someone shitty, who could never treat you the way he could.

but it didn’t matter now that you both were adults, and in college.

he’d watch as you pranced around from boy to boy with a smile, acting as if it never bothered him. he’s moved on from his silly crush. but the feelings linger deep inside of him.

but it’s only gotten worse for jungwon. 

you became confident when it came to him. he was your best friend, the closest friend you had, so of course you came to him when you needed help with boys. when you asked what type of girls his friend jake liked, or if sunghoon had ever talked about you before.

everything went downhill when you accidentally sent him a picture of you in your tiniest bikini, “hows this?” he tried to ignore it, he really did. but it was hard. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your tits squished together and barely covered by the black bikini top. jungwon almost drove himself to the nearest church after he shoved his right hand in his pants while his phone sat in his left.

jungwon was losing his mind.

his feelings grew along with your own popularity. you became a trending name within the university and the parties that were thrown. people started to adore you, they seeked you out in a crowd of people. you were sweet and charming, a rather large friend group but of course—only one best friend. 

the male has been avoiding you since you sent that picture. of course you bugged him, asking if you did something wrong or begged him to just talk to you. even though jungwon was avoiding you, he couldn’t deny the burst of pride he felt in his chest when he knew you seeked him out the most out of everyone.

he avoided you so much that he lost track of your daily routine, he had no idea you were coming to this party tonight.

when jungwon saw you skip around in the living room of the large house, he almost started choking on the drink he was ingesting. the small skirt you were wearing was a centimeter away from revealing the panties you were wearing. 

he was torn between throwing a jacket around your hips or lowering his chair to catch a good glimpse. both would surely get his ass kicked.

and so he escaped, barely noticing the glance you threw in his direction.

he jogged down to the basement of his friend's ridiculously large house, plopping down on the couch with his head in his hands. 

he was fucked, so fucked. jungwon had told you last week that he’d be stuck at the library all night tonight, which is why he turned down your invitation to hang out. he didn’t want to be alone with you on a friday night. 

his phone dings, once or twice. your contact name flashed on his screens for a few moments before it turned off, only showing jungwons reflection. 

all he can hear is charlie xcx vibrating through the upper floorboards of the basement. he’s never felt this confused in his life. he was sure he was over the small crush he had on you, so sure. he went almost three years without a single romantic thought. now his mind was flashing with images of your lips, plush tits and your thighs.

jungwon’s feelings only confused him more when he found himself getting irritated the more he thought about you. he truly did not know if he hated you or if he was in love with you. 

every thought consumes him as he leans back into the couch cushions. your parents loved him, it took awhile for him to gain their trust but he finally did. but now they see jungwon as your protector, a brotherly love, someone who could cherish you but never cross any lines. he wasn’t good enough to be a boyfriend nor a husband like they want, and he was sure that sleeping with you and breaking your heart would result him to be shunned away leaving behind a broken relationship that could never be fixed.

reaching over the coffee table with a huff, jungwon picks up a pre-rolled joint from an unlabeled container. he wastes no time before lighting it and deeply inhaling. 

just to pause his mind.

he closes his eyes, listening to the muffled music as he holds the joint to his lips. soft thuds coming from the staircase rips jungwon from his short meditation session. as soon as his eyes open he’s greeted by you skipping down the stairs, turning your head differently directions as if you were searching for something.

when your eyes land on his lazy figure, they widen and you let out an excited “oh!”

jungwon clears his throat, trying not to choke on the last hit he took and attempts to sit up but you had already appeared directly in front of him.

“jake said you were down here?” you start, slightly out of breath. “i didn’t know you’d be here? didn’t you hear me call for you upstairs?”

he shakes his head, blowing the smoke from his mouth away from you. you quickly take a seat next to him, your legs resting against his. it takes everything in him not to push your legs off of his and run away. 

“do you hate me?” he might. you take a deep breath, toying with the string sticking out from the seam of his pants. “did i do something, won?”

you’ve never really sat down and figured out your feelings for jungwon until he started avoiding you. it started out as a tiny crush on the guy you used to study with, but when he started hanging around more often, your stomach would flutter. 

there was an attempt to get rid of the foolish feelings you had for him. it just would never work between the two of you. your best friend has a smile brighter than the sun, he has aspirations bigger than the both of you  and a pure heart—surely he was interested in someone else.

and the way he looks at you now just hurts. and it hurts worse than the ways he tried so hard to avoid you.

you tried going for his friends, ones that you knew were good guys, cute boys that could easily take your mind off your best friend turned love interest. but if anything, it all got worse. 

every person you turned to had talked about jungwon. it was like you couldn’t escape and you were forced to face your true feelings for him.

so when you saw him tonight, after days of radio silence, you were excited. not just because of your feelings, but because to you—he’s still your best friend.

“you didn’t do anything.” his voice is monotone, dry and weak of any emotion. yet it drives a stake straight through your heart.

“you’re not mad at me?”

he shakes his head.

“were you busy?” 

you only wished he told you yes.

“i wasn’t busy.” jungwon sighs, exhaling the smoke from his mouth. and for the first time tonight, he really looked at you. 

your hair looked softer than usual, it’s probably the new hair product you showed him in a message he never responded to. he can smell it along with your perfume—one that he picked out. he thinks the scents are too strong but he likes them on you.

“are we still friends?” his heart almost breaks in half when he sees the pout forming on your face. the fact that your glossy eyes and downturned lips were because of him, made him hate all of this even more. what was he even doing?

he can feel the high take effect, it’s subtle yet the room still spins around him as he studies your sad expression.

“i could never hate you.”

you glance up at him, locking eyes. 

“but i don’t think i can be friends with you anymore.”

your heartbeat quickens and you feel your hands get clammy. the regret of showing up tonight was starting to sink in, by now, you were wishing he really was stuck at the library for the night. “what?”

“no, don’t say anything.” he sighs and leans forward, stubbing the joint in the ashtray. “i like you. it’s getting to a point where it’s too much for me to handle.” jungwon practically vomits up that sentence, feeling the weight be lifted from his shoulder. “i can’t be around you. it’s like, you control my body and emotions when you’re near me and i just— i can’t pretend to be your friend when you make me feel like an entirely new person.”

you swallow hard at the sudden confession. you want to say something but you feel stuck in your spot.

“i don’t expect you to return my feelings but i need to be honest with you and myself,” he continues, facing away from you because god, he would rather die than see you reject him face to face. “i want you in ways you can’t imagine and i want to be the only one you look at. and you have a right to know this.”

“jungwon, please look at me.” you sigh, pleading with him.

“i literally can’t.”

you roll your eyes and grab his arm, tugging it closer to you which forces him to turn his head. he feels his heart stop when he sees the gummy smile on your face. “i want to ask you to be my boyfriend but only if you’re looking at me.”

“excuse me?” jungwons voice is full of disbelief. 

“what? you just confessed to me as if i’m dying or something,” you giggle, studying his furrowed eyebrows. you could tell this was tearing him up inside. “i want you to be my boyfriend but not if you’re gonna be all gloomy about it. i like you too, stupid.”

jungwon couldn’t even hide the smile growing on his face. it’s take everything inside of you to not lunge at him and kiss every inch of his face. the way his dimples are on display and his eyes crinkle as he smiles makes you melt into the couch. 

you lean forward onto your knees and cup his face in your hands. “you’re the bravest person i know yet you couldn’t even tell a girl that you liked her?”

“not when that girl is you.” his voice is soft and his face is flushed. 

“i’m nothing special,” you respond, leaning close enough so that your lips are ghosting over the tip of his nose. “and i like you a lot.”

jungwon wastes no time pulling you into his lap, earning a giggle from you. it was music to his ears. “and what do you like about me?” 

“well, for one, you’re hot.” he laughs, shaking his head at your response. you smack his shoulder lightly. “i’m serious. and, you’ve got such a broad personality—you’re comforting to be around. i can be myself and not feel bad about it.”

“really? all i do is smoke weed and study.”

“shut up and let me finish,” you cut him off, poking his forehead. he reaches up and grabs your wrist, bringing it down and interlocking his hand with yours. “you make me feel so good about myself, you protect me even when i think i can handle myself and you’ve just always been there when i needed someone. you make me feel safe, won.” 

this was not what jungwon had in mind for the night. never did he think he would be confessing to his best friend at some random college party after a few hits of a blunt. nor did he think she would be the one to ask him out instead.

“so yeah, i fucking like you a lot. and if you ever ignore me again like that, i’m going to tell my mom because that really hurt, won.” 

he lets out a nervous chuckle, “i’m not usually like this.” you nod in agreement, causing him to roll his eyes. “seriously, you know this. i just… didn’t know what to do.”

“well, it doesn’t matter now.” you hum, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “okay, boyfriend?”

“mhm… girlfriend.” the room has stopped spinning for jungwon. now, all he could hear was the soft bump of the music upstairs and your breath. he glances up at your eyes but quickly realizes you were focused on his lips. a small smile forms on his face. 

“but what about jake? 

“seriously? i’m about to kiss you and you’re asking about jake…?” 

jungwons eyebrows raise, “i’m just wondering beca-“

you slam your lips onto his, effectively cutting him off. he immediately falls into the kiss, letting his hands wrap around your hips to pull you closer. months of tension had built of to this moment, and it dissipates with every needy pull at his lips.

he starts to regret every minute he spent avoiding you as he holds your body close to his, feeling the warmth against his own. jungwon could lose himself in you, and he wouldn’t mind that at all.

and he’s not sure if it’s the lingering high that's making his stomach flutter as you deepen this kiss or his pure longing for you, but what he does know is that he needs you now.

jungwon pulls back slightly to say something but you peck his lips again, “stop talking.”

“i just wanted to say how pretty you look right now.”

you blush at his words. it was finally sinking in that your best friend returned your feelings, and that you were here in his lap, kissing him as if it were your last night on earth. “are you high?”

he gives you a lazy smile, “a little bit. but that’s not the reason for any of this.”

you purse your lips and shrug. his hands were tight on your hips, rubbing slow lazy circles into your skirt with his thumbs. it sent shivers down your spine. the moodiness of the room plus how good jungwon looked under you was pulling you into a trance.

he looked mesmerizing.

“can you kiss me again?”

his question makes you melt. you nod your head before gently placing your lips on his again. it turns more passionate with every passing second. his tongue brushes against your lips, seeking entrance to your mouth and you let him in.

“‘m so lucky,” he mutters into the kiss. you smile, gripping his hair in your hands as you suck the words out of his mouth. “you’re so pretty… and all mine now.”

you pull back, slightly out of breath. “i’m all yours, so act like it.”

“i promise.” he lifts one hand and pulls you against him once more, this time taking charge of the kiss.

jungwon trails his hand slowly down your side, reaching your lower back. you arch in his touch, rolling your hips against his lap in the process. he lets out a soft groan that makes your ears perk and your heart flutter. 

you release his lips and plant soft kisses around the corners of his mouth, against his cheek and down his jawline. giving soft kitten licks against his jawline as you trail down his neck. he leans back and lifts his head, giving you full access. jungwon takes this as a sign and begins gently moving your hips with his hands, guiding you into grinding against the crotch of his sweats.

you pull back, grabbing his hands as you rut against him, just like he wants. “you’re so cute, won.”

“cute?” his voice is breathy, on the verge of breaking. “you think this is cute?”

“i think you’re very cute when you want something,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his. he nods his head, his breath hitching as you grind against his hardening length. 

“i told you earlier how badly i wanted you. i wasn’t lying.”

you giggle, pecking at the corners of his mouth. you’re grateful he wore sweatpants to a house party. “i can tell.”

he groans and leans his head back against the cushions. his cock is twitching against the fabric of his sweats, and the fact that your only wearing panties under your skirt isn’t helping him at all. jungwon could practically feel your warmth and it was killing him that he couldn’t be inside you right now. 

“you’re killing me.” his voice is strained, and you can see his jaw tighten with every roll of your hips. 

you situate your position in his lap, making sure you’re directly on top of his length. he sucks his breath in and lifts his head, staring down between both of your laps, wishing he could just move your skirt from his view. 

“but you don’t want me to stop, do you?” 

jungwon shakes his head, gripping your hips tighter and lifting the fabric of your skirt up just enough to see the lace you were hiding beneath them. 

“fuck…” he practically moans out. “please don’t stop.”

you bite back a whimper, every word caught in your throat now. “g-good… because i really don’t want to.”

he lifts your skirt higher, bunching it at your hips so he could watch as you grind down onto his clothed dick. the view is mesmerizing, and the sight of it makes him want to bust right there, especially when his eyes catch the damp patch you were leaving behind on the grey material. 

“just couldn’t wait, could you?” 

you let out a deep exhale, hips stuttering when you hear his voice, deeper and strained. “no… couldn’t wait for this.” 

“baby…” 

“you think that bikini picture was an accident?”

upon hearing those words leave your mouth, he can’t help the way his hips jolt upwards against you, causing you both to let out some form of whimper. 

he lets out a dry laugh and looks up at you, “you’re kind of a brat. all of that was on purpose?”

“i don’t think you know how badly i’ve been wanting you, won.” you admit through breathy whines. “it was all for you.”

“fuck—don’t say that to me, i might cum.”

you lean closer, resting your forehead against his as you quicken the pace of your hips. it was tiring, but hearing that made you gain a burst of stamina. 

jungwon groans loudly, trying to hold your hips still but you push against him. “did—did you not hear me?”

“please jungwon.”

it was pathetic how easily he gave into your pleas. it wasn’t an exaggeration when he says he would do anything for you. but when he hears that whiney voice paired with his name, it wasn’t hard to give up anything. so what if he cums in his pants like he’s never been touched before.

that’s how you made him feel. 

“i-i missed you so much,” you whine against his lips, feeling his hips meet yours, his cock perfectly nested against your cunt despite the fabric of his sweatpants restricting you from completely feeling him.

“i know, i’m sorry, baby,” jungwon responds, voice breaking as he inches closer and closer. his stomach is tense, holding back his oncoming orgasm just for you. it was hard, he shouldn’t have smoked beforehand knowing how sensitive he gets. but god, this was everything he wanted and he did not want to stop. “i won’t do it again, i promise you.” 

you slam your lips against his, eating up every groan and whimper he gives you as you rut against him desperately. and he lets you. jungwon lets you completely take over, he lets you get yourself off—dry humping him with pure need and desire.

his hips stutter and his stomach tenses up, “baby… please s-slow..” his cock is throbbing, begging for release. 

“just let go…” you purr, grinding downwards, feeling his cock practically jump at the action.

and he does. he cums embarrassingly quickly just from your words. 

jungwon holds you against him, burying his face in your chest as he cums against the fabric of his sweats. the throbbing never goes away and the sounds he lets out are no less than pathetic but neither of you care, both desperate for release. 

your own hips stutter when you feel the warm liquid seep through, soaking your thighs and ass. 

“won…” you softly cry out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. this wasn’t at all what you planned for the night, but you aren’t disappointed. even as your own orgasm washes over your body, all you can think about was getting back to his apartment for more. 

his hips jolt in sensitivity, he pulls back and lifts your hips from his lap. “god, please stop…” 

you watch as he throws his head back, eyes shut from the pleasure. a smile takes over your face when you see his chest rise and fall, watching as he tries to recompose himself.

“it’s not funny,” he lifts his head ever so slightly, squinting at you. “just wait… when we get back.”

“don’t over exert yourself, wonnie.” 

your giggles only spur him on. 

“you might be pretty but you’re a fucking brat.”

jungwon lifts his head and lets you fall back to your original position, wincing when you don’t even try to land softly on his crotch. you lean forward and kiss him once, then twice, traveling to his ear. “don’t talk to your girlfriend like that.” you whisper before nibbling on his earlobe. 

“yeah?” goosebumps spread across his skin and he squeezes your ass in response, causing you to pull back and smile widely. 

“yeah. especially when you were so mean to her by ignoring her like she didn’t exist for weeks.”

jungwon tilts your head. you weren’t wrong, but he knew why you kept bringing it up. 

“then i guess i should take you home and make up for all that time missed, huh? as an apology?”

you tap your finger against your chin, humming as you pretend to be deep in thought. “hmm… i guess you could. just don’t cum in your pants before we get home again.”

he shakes his head, scoffing playfully. “seriously. you’re a brat.”

[nathanbatemanfucker]

A Whisper of Cinnamon

gif credit: @/userseraph

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, smut, oral sex (f!reader), unprotected p in v, kissing, get together fic

wc: 1,620

an: yes i wrote this ridiculously fast so if there’s repetition or typos that’s why 😭. that old man looked so good last night holy shit

pedro pascal characters masterlist | set the table masterlist

The light spilling from the small construction office was one of the only things still burning on this side of town. Most of Jackson had gone still hours ago, swallowed up by the fall of amber leaves and the kind of hush only autumn nights dusted with chill could bring.

You hesitate at the door, fingers tightening around the bundled napkin in your hands. The few slices of cinnamon bread, soft in the middle, a little messy are still warm. You’d made it mostly to keep your hands busy—mostly—but you’d wrapped up a few pieces just for him. You weren’t sure he’d still be here but then again, you kind of were.

Classic overworking Joel. You’ve noticed that about him.

You finally work up the courage to knock lightly. There’s a grunt from inside, then the sound of a chair creaking back and the door opens a second later.

Joel stands there looking more tired than usual—glasses slipping low on his nose, sleeves pushed to his elbows, stubble heavier than it was this morning. His eyes flicker over you, then to the bundle in your hand.

“I figured you were still working,” you say, trying not to sound as shy as you feel. “Brought you something.”

His brows lift, and he steps aside to let you in. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says gruffly, but you hear the softness, the gratitude underneath.

Inside, it smells like sawdust, ink, and faintly like coffee that’s long gone cold. Blueprints are scattered across the desk, a pencil tucked behind his ear. He sets your offering down, peeking under the napkin. The barest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, if you can call it that.

“Cinnamon?” he asks, already pulling off a piece with calloused fingers.

You nod. “It’s still warm.”

“Damn good,” he mumbles around a bite, which makes you laugh as your cheeks warm from his subtle praise.

He gestures for you to sit, pulling out the second chair he clearly doesn’t use. You settle in, watching him as he leans back over the plans. The lamp catches the edge of his glasses, a soft glow reflecting in his eyes as he squints.

“You ever think about getting new ones?” you ask, teasing gently.

“Every damn day,” he mutters, smirking. “Hard to come by.”

You lean closer, glancing down at the blueprint. “What’s this one?”

“New housing draft,” he says, voice low. “Tommy’s idea. Wants more space for the kids comin’ in.”

He’s still squinting, so you reach over—fingers brushing his as you adjust the page, turning it toward the light. He doesn’t pull away. Your hands lingers on his just a moment too long, the warmth of his skin unexpected and grounding before you pull away.

“You’ve got the measurements off here,” you say gently, tapping a pencil against the paper. “By like half an inch.”

Joel sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Knew somethin’ felt off.”

“You need sleep.”

“Don’t got time for that.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Then at least let someone help you. You’re not invincible Joel and people like having you around.”

He’s quiet for a second, watching you. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he’s trying to decide something. Like he’s torn.

The truth is, this tension’s been there for a while—months, maybe. Laced between long looks over shared meals, brushing shoulders on patrol, the way his voice dipped when he said your name. Neither of you have said anything. You weren’t sure what it was, or if he’d ever let himself want it. But now, in the warmth of this quiet room, it feels like there’s no more pretending. Whatever this is can’t be denied.

“Don’t usually get help,” he murmurs. “Not used to it.”

“Well,” you say, keeping your voice light even as your chest tightens, “you’re allowed to. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Another silence settles between you, heavier this time. Your knee brushes his under the desk. Like before, he doesn’t move away.

His eyes stay trained on your face as he asks softly, “You always this kind to people stayin’ late?”

You tilt your head at him. “Only the ones who wear glasses and forget to eat.”

That earns you a rare, real smile. It’s a slow one, warm and a little sad— like he’s thinking about those he lost who used to be kind to him. His hand lifts tentatively, thumb brushing against your cheek.

You don’t know who leans in first. Maybe it’s both of you at once. But when his mouth meets yours, it’s not soft. It’s starved.

It’s the taste of Joel with a whisper of cinnamon.

The kiss is rough and deep, months of restraint unraveling at once. His hands cup your cheeks, teeth scraping your bottom lip. You whimper into him and that’s all it takes—he’s pulling you up out of the chair and onto the desk like you weigh nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this,” he mutters between kisses, voice wrecked. “Thinkin’ about how you’d taste… how you’d sound.”

You gasp as he spins you gently, pressing your chest down against the desk, your skirt riding up as he moves behind you. “Joel—”

“I got you, baby,” he growls, pushing your legs apart with firm hands. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath catches when his fingers slide under the hem of your skirt, their cadence is contradictory: rough and reverent. He grips your panties and drags them down, slow, letting the fabric slide over your thighs and pool at your feet.

You moan—high, shaky—gripping the edge of the desk as cold air brushes your slick heat.

“Fuck me,” he breathes behind you. You hear the crack in his voice, the need. “Look at this… wet for me already.”

You whimper, pressing your forehead to the desk, the coolness grounding you. “Baby, please…”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos, dropping to his knees behind you, glasses still perched on his nose, slightly crooked from how fast he’s moving.

He wastes no time. His hands grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then his mouth is on you—hot and filthy and so fucking needy. His tongue parts your folds, licking your pussy like it’s the fountain of youth, and the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs have your eyes fluttering back.

You gasp, your breath catching on a moan. “Fucking hell Joel.”

He groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. His glasses fog slightly, the lenses catching faint lamplight as he buries his face deeper, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he rasps, voice muffled, eyes dark behind the smudge of his lenses. “Don’t hold back, baby, c‘mon let me hear you.”

You whimper, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the desk. “God, Joel—I can’t…it’s too much…”

“That’s it,” he growls. “Keep makin’ those sounds for me.”

His tongue slides down to fuck into you, slow and deep, while his thumb rubs tight, perfect circles over your clit.

Your hips jolt from this earth shaking combo, gasps spilling from your lips, your legs threatening to give out. “Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck. Joel.”

“You gonna cum for me?” he mumbles, licking up everything you’ve got for him, beard soaked, glasses slipping further down his nose but staying on. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me taste you.”

You moan, back arching as your orgasm slams into you, white-hot and shattering. You moan brokenly, hips grinding against his mouth, every breath catching on the wave of pleasure he rips out of you.

Joel groans and licks you through it, hands gripping tight to your thighs, keeping you open and helpless until you’re trembling and overstimulated.

He stands slowly, eyes wild behind his fogged lenses, his mouth glistening with your essence. His hands find your hips again, steadying you as he presses his chest to your back, kissing your shoulder.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby,” he murmurs into your skin, voice low but a little softer. “You still want that? Still okay?”

You nod fast, breath still stuttering. “Yes. Fuck—yes, Joel—please.”

That’s all he needed.

“Goooood fucking girl,” he growls, reaching between you to unbuckle his belt, letting it fall with a heavy clink. “Gonna fuck you just like this, wanna see everything.”

He slides in deep on the first thrust, his cock thick and perfect, stretching you open until your gasp turns into a desperate moan. His hand curls around your shoulders to ground you as he leans in close.

“Face to face,” he mutters, pulling out slowly and flipping you with careful strength. “Need to see you fall apart.”

He positions you the desk how he wants you, holding your gaze as he slides back inside, and fuck, his glasses—still on, slightly fogged, slightly crooked—make him look devastated and feral all at once.

Every thrust is unhurried and deep, one of his hands raising to cradle your jaw as he fucks into you steady, murmuring filth between kisses:

So tight for me… you were made for this. You feel me? All the way up there, baby? Gonna fill you so deep you’ll still be wet for me tomorrow.

You moan loudly, legs wrapping around his waist, head falling back as the pressure builds quickly again, hot ans dizzying.

“Joel—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he pants, fucking you harder. “Wanna feel you cum around me.”

And when you break again—moaning his name like a prayer—he follows, spilling deep inside you with a sharp growl, holding you tight against him as you both come undone.

He kisses you soft afterward. Forehead to yours. Gentle, steady, real. Like the beginning of something.

He murmurs with a grin, mouth brushing yours with every word, “Next time, I’m bringin’ you dessert.”

lmk if you’d like to be on the joel taglist (must b 18+)

nsfw joel miller taglist: @lesbianhotch, @ozarkthedog, @lowrisemiller, @iamthatonefangirl, @campingwiththecharmings, @stargazingcarol, @megamindsecretlair, @nerdieforpedro, @fakeplasticfeels, @for-a-longlongtime, @bubblybubbubs, @jxvipike, @veritable-trash

[wordsofwhimsy]

ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Fucking fiiiilth, smut bitches!!!

Tags: Threats of violence including self harm, absolutely toxic behavior, reader matching his freak in the worst way

Word Count: 2,814

Inspiration: “None of Ur Friends Business” – Ginuwine

Synopsis: Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to “take care” of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off

a/n: you know i had to jump on it after this anon message!! god he’s such a damn psychopath, need that 🤪

His hands are warm—too warm—palming your waist like he owns it. The soft press of his mouth against yours is hungry but practiced, like he’s done this in his head a thousand times and tonight he’s just filling in the details.

You’re trying to stay focused. Trying not to melt into him completely. But his knee is nudged between your thighs and your hands are fisted in his shirt and—God—he smells like the night. Wind and sweat and danger.

And he feels it. The shift.

Mark pulls back just barely, his breath brushing against your lips. “What?”

You blink up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. “I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He laughs—low, sharp, a little breathless. “You say that with your hands still on me.”

You pull back further, guilt blooming under your skin. “It’s not me. My friends… they don’t think I should be around you.”

Mark’s eyes flicker, and something inside them cracks. Not anger. Not surprise. Something worse. That slow, dangerous amusement he gets when he’s too far gone to care.

“Ohhh,” he says, sitting back on his heels, still straddling your legs. “Them.”

You shift, tugging the hem of your shirt down, suddenly too aware of how vulnerable you are underneath him.

“They think you’re… I don’t know, unstable,” you murmur. “That I’m not thinking straight when I’m with you.”

He tilts his head, watching you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s already solved. “And are they wrong?” You hesitate. His grin widens. “Didn’t think so.”

“Mark…”

He leans down again, slower this time, arms caging you in as his voice drops to a whisper. “You think they know what this is? What we are?”

Your heart stutters. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw. “They don’t get a say.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” His eyes meet yours. Calm. Controlled. Unsettling. “Because I don’t care what they think. And you don’t either, not really.”

You shake your head, but it’s weak. Your resistance is paper-thin and he knows it.

“They don’t know what it’s like when you look at me like that,” Mark mutters, voice velvet-dark, “like you want me and hate yourself for it.” You swallow hard, trying to find your footing in a conversation that’s already sinking fast.

“They’re just looking out for me,” you say, weaker than you mean to.

Mark hums, dragging his fingers up your thigh like he’s barely paying attention—which only makes it worse.

“Yeah? Then maybe they should spend less time worrying about you and more time fixing their own messes.” His tone is too casual. Too cutting.

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks at you like it’s obvious. Like he’s been holding back and is just now getting bored of pretending.

“Let’s start with Lauren,” he says, like he’s choosing a weapon. “She’s real concerned about your well-being for someone who’s still sleeping with her ex behind her current boyfriend’s back.”

You freeze.

“And Maya?” He laughs under his breath. “She’s got a lot to say about how ‘toxic’ I am for a girl who gets blackout drunk just to forget she texts her therapist at 3am.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, grinning, like he’s telling you a secret. “They don’t care about you. They just don’t want you to have something they don’t have.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, voice dropping low and dangerous.

“Especially your girl Sadie.” His eyes are locked on yours now, completely still. “The way she looks at me?”

Your breath catches.

Mark's lips curve into something that’s almost a smirk, but there's something sharp underneath. “So obvious. Like she wants me to look at her the way I look at you. Like she’d lose her mind if I touched her the way I touch you.”

Your skin prickles. “You’re imagining things.”

He chuckles, and the sound is mean. “You really think I don’t notice? She doesn’t even breathe when I walk into a room. Like she’s hoping I’ll slip and touch her by accident.”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow and lazy. “But I won’t. You know why?”

You’re quiet.

He leans in, mouth just brushing your ear. “Because she’s not you.”

You shove at his chest—not hard, but sharp enough to get the message across. “You’re such an asshole.”

Mark barely moves. Just blinks, lazy and slow, like a cat watching its prey squirm.

“Yeah,” he says. “And?”

You sit up, untangling yourself from under him, heart pounding. “You don’t get to talk about them like that. They’re my friends, Mark.”

He watches you now, eyes darkening. The grin slips, just slightly.

“They’re hypocrites,” he says coolly. “They don’t like me because I don’t kiss ass and pretend I’m something I’m not. And you—” He leans in before you can react, voice low and dangerous. “—you like that about me.”

You flinch back. “You don’t know what I like.”

He scoffs. “Don’t I?”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, not painful, but firm. Controlled. You freeze.

“That little act you pull?” he says, head tilting. “Like you’re just so confused, like you don’t know if this is right?” His thumb brushes your pulse. “It’s bullshit. You keep coming back. You let me touch you. You want me here.”

Your stomach flips, anger warring with the way your skin burns under his touch.

“I want you gone,” you whisper. He laughs again, and this time it’s ugly. Sharp and disbelieving.

“No, you don’t.” He shifts closer, crowding into your space again. “You’re mad because I said what you’re too scared to admit. That your friends aren’t saints. That Sadie wants me. That deep down, you love the fact that she can’t have me.”

“Mark—”

“You want me all to yourself. And you hate that you do.”

You yank your arm back. “You’re insane.”

He smiles. There’s no denial. No apology.

“You knew that when you let me in your bed.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.

“You’re sick,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You think this is normal?”

Mark doesn’t even blink.

“No,” he says easily. “But I think it’s honest.”

You push at him again, harder this time. He lets you—for now. You scramble off the bed, putting distance between you like that could somehow make this safer. Make him safer.

“I’m done,” you say, trying to sound stronger than you feel. “This was a mistake.” He tilts his head, eyes tracking your every move like he’s amused by the performance.

“I really don’t like how much they distract you,” he says, tone casual—too casual. “Your friends.” You go still. Mark’s gaze sharpens. “Always in your ear. Telling you what to think. What to feel. Pulling you away from me.”

“Don’t,” you say, voice rising. “Don’t go there—”

“I’m just saying,” he cuts in, standing now, slow and unbothered. “Maybe it’d be easier if they were gone.”

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Mark shrugs. “Just a thought. Clean slate. No distractions. Just you and me.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out. You swallow, steady yourself, and find your voice. “You don’t mean that,” you whisper. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

His smile is all teeth. “Why would I want to scare you?” He starts to cross the room toward you and you instinctively step back. “I like you,” he says softly. “I don’t want to scare you. I want to protect you. And if that means getting rid of people who are bad for you…”

He trails off, as if he’s genuinely thinking it over. “…then maybe it’s not that crazy.”

“If you touch a single hair on their heads,” you hiss, “I swear to God, you will never get to touch me again.”

Mark goes still for a second, like he’s processing that, weighing it. Then he scoffs. Loud. Dismissive. Cruel. “You think you can stop me?” he says, stepping forward with that wolfish grin. “If I want you—” His voice drops an octave, sickly sweet, almost a purr. “—I’ll just take you.”

And in one motion, without flinching, without breaking eye contact, your hand shoots out to your desk. The cold metal of the scissors hits your palm.

Mark’s smile falters as you lift them up, pressing the tip against your own throat. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Just long enough to make your point.

“I will literally end it right here,” you hiss, voice shaking with fury—not fear. “Do not fuck with me.”

Silence.

Heavy. Dense.

Mark stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you. Like you just flipped some internal switch he didn’t know existed.

His chest rises, then falls—slow. Controlled.

“…Whoa,” he breathes.

You press the blade in just slightly deeper, enough to make his jaw clench.

“I’m not your little toy,” you snap. “You don’t own me. You don’t get to hurt the people I care about just because you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” you spit. “You are absolutely obsessed. And I’ve let you get away with it because you’re hot and you kiss like you invented sin, but I swear to God, Mark—”

You jab the scissors toward him now, and he flinches. The grin is gone. He’s listening.

“You pull one more psycho stunt, and I’m gone. Not just gone—I will erase myself from your life so fast, it’ll make that little broken brain of yours crack in half.”

He blinks. Then runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little like he doesn’t know whether to be angry, aroused, or in awe.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

You lower the scissors, your voice cool and even.

“Takes one to know one.”

Mark just stares at you. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched. That frayed little thread of control he was holding onto? It’s gone. Burned up in the fire between you.

And you—you’re still gripping the scissors. Chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon straight through hell.

“You are,” he says finally, voice low, wrecked. “So out of your fucking mind.”

You toss the scissors onto the desk with a loud clatter.

“Guess you finally met your match.”

He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Eyes locked on yours like he’s looking at the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.

“You’d really do it,” he mutters, half-laughing. “You’d die just to spite me.”

You blink once. “And you’d kill for me.”

He stops right in front of you now, inches away. His smile is wild. Reverent.

“I’d kill for you,” he echoes, voice rough and quiet, “and you’d die just to spite me.”

A beat passes. Then another.

And it snaps.

He grabs your face with both hands like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, crashing his mouth into yours with zero hesitation—hungry, desperate, possessive. Like he’s been waiting forever to kiss you like this and now he’s afraid someone might take it away.

You kiss him back just as hard.

There’s no hesitation left. No doubts. Just teeth and hands and ragged breath, both of you pulling like you’ll tear the other apart. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, fisting in your shirt like he’s anchoring himself.

You gasp into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he groans like it’s killing him.

“I need this,” he pants against your lips. “Right now.”

You nod, forehead against his, eyes burning.

“Then take it.”

That’s all he needs.

Mark doesn’t hesitate—his mouth crashes back onto yours like gravity just stopped working and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides down, grabs the back of your thigh and lifts, walking you backward like he owns the floor you’re stepping on.

You’re on the bed in seconds. Breathless. Legs parting before you can think, just to feel him there, all heat and muscle and sharp, chaotic want.

“You drive me insane,” he growls, dragging his mouth down your throat. “You threaten me with scissors and then tell me to fuck you—what the hell is wrong with you?”

Your hands claw at his shirt, yanking it up over his head.

“I learned it from you, asshole.”

He laughs—dark and low, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Guess I’m a good influence after all.”

And then he’s everywhere.

His hands are rough, impatient, sliding under your shirt, dragging it up like he can’t get to your skin fast enough. Lips on your chest, your stomach, leaving bruises he wants you to see later. Mark is marking you—no pun intended—like it’s instinct, like he needs people to know whose you are the second they see you.

Your touching him back, his skin is hot under your hands—like he’s burning from the inside out, like if you peeled him open you’d find wildfire and want. His mouth doesn’t just kiss—it consumes, dragging over your skin like he’s trying to eat the memory of your friends, your doubts, your resistance. Like he wants to own every piece of you you’ve ever tried to keep from him.

You feel his smirk when you gasp, when your legs wrap tighter around his waist, dragging him closer. You’re not even sure who started it anymore. You can’t remember who kissed who first. Just that it was inevitable.

“You like this,” he growls against your throat, lips brushing just under your jaw as his fingers trail lower, dragging over your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You try to sound strong. You try to bite it back.

But the sound you make when his hand slides between your legs? It’s not strong. It’s needy.

Mark fucking shudders.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re soaked.”

“Shut up,” you snap, flushed and breathless. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through you.

His mouth ghosts over your nipple, tongue flicking, teasing. He pulls your underwear down slow, smirking when you arch into him.

His teeth sink into your thigh, just enough to leave a mark, and he groans like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear you say that. And when he finally slides into you, it’s with a low, rough growl—like it takes everything in him not to lose it then and there.

You’re so full, so tight, so perfectly wrong for each other it makes your eyes roll back.

His hips grind deep, hard, like he’s trying to bury himself somewhere beneath your skin. He’s panting in your ear, messy and raw, fingers tangled in your hair while yours scratch down his spine hard enough to leave tracks.

He likes it. You can feel it in the way his pace stutters, the way he moans—raw and low and real.

“I could ruin you,” he gasps against your lips. “You know that?”

“You already did,” you breathe.

And that’s it. That’s when he snaps.

He grabs your thigh, hikes it higher, and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The headboard cracks against the wall, but neither of you care. The room is nothing. The world is nothing.

Just this.

Just him.

Just you.

Your moans turn to sobs, his name ripped from your throat like a confession. “Harder,” you whisper against his neck.

He doesn’t hold back.

Your bodies move like war and worship—teeth clashing, breath tangling, sweat slicking your skin. Every thrust is a promise and a threat.

You moan his name and he mutters, “Say it again.”

“Mark—”

“Louder.”

“Mark—”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine.”

You don’t disagree.

He’s everywhere.

He’s everything.

And when you cum—shaking, gasping, half-crying—he watches you like he’s witnessing something holy. Like he’s the one being touched by God.

“Mine,” he pants, grinding deeper, chasing his own release. “You’re mine, you’re fucking mine—”

And when he finishes, it’s with a broken, desperate groan, spilling into you like he’s giving you a piece of his soul and doesn’t care what you do with it.

Breathless silence.

Only the sound of your heaving chests, sweaty limbs tangled, skin burning.

Mark buries his face in your neck. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “…You scare the shit out of me.”

You grin weakly, fingers threading through his hair. “Good.”

-------------

Part Two - Brunch Edition!

[skyeisabarnes]

Soldat

She and The Winter Soldier are each other's only solace on the H.Y.D.R.A base.

The Winter Soldier X Reader

Bucky Barnes X Reader

"I need to know, kid-"

The snarl that left her lips was animalistic. "Don't call me that," she said, her voice low enough to be a growl.

A sigh left Steve's lips as he stared at her. But his blue eyes weren't intimidating, not in the slightest.

Not compared with what she was used to.

He held up a picture. "Do you know this man?"

It wasn't a clear picture, not in the slightest. Nearly impossible to make out who the picture was of. But she knew. Of course she knew who he was. He was the most terrifying man she had ever met.

"Have you got a date with death, Captain America?" She mused, tugging at her binds. "Because that's all you'll get by seeking him out."

A single flame appeared on her fingertips. She held it against the rope around her wrist.

Steve let his head fall, shoulders slumping forward slightly. "Why are you doing this, kid? Why do you want to work for H.Y.D.R.A?

She clenched her jaw. "I told you, Captain, don't call me kid." She smirked at him as her flame singed at the rope. "I've fucked men older than you."

Pink dusted his cheeks as he turned away from her.

"And," she continued, "for the record, I don't want to work for H.Y.D.R.A. Just like your friend, I don't have a choice."

Her words weren't supposed to be comforting, but warm blossomed in Steve's chest. Of course Bucky wasn't doing this out of choice. Somehow, he was being forced.

The rope fell away from her wrists, but she stayed still.

"He will come for me."

"The Winter Soldier," Steve said and she nodded, confirming it.

But then Steve crouched in front of her, his arms resting on his legs. "Good."

Her fist connected with his face. Not yet surrounded by fire, that would come if he didn't let her go. "Trust me, Captain, I'm saving you!" She yelled as he stumbled away from her, giving her room to stand up. "The Soldier won't hold back when it comes to me."

It wasn't supposed to be a brag, but it was. When you have Earth's most dangerous assassin at your beck and call, it's kind of hard not to brag.

Each step left marks in the floor, soot in the shape of her boot. "If it wasn't for him, I'd thank you for getting me out, Captain." She said it with such sincerity, Steve could only stare. "But I can't leave him there."

Her fists were on fire as she walked away from him. Captain America should have been putting up more of a fight, but he let her go, watched her walk away from him.

At the sounds of screams from outside of whatever building she was in, she broke into a run. Through the empty halls of the building and through the doors, out into the light of midday.

Whatever plan Captain America had, it was a bad one.

He stalked towards her, killing everything in his path. The mask and goggles covered his face, but she knew it was him. She would always know it was him.

"Soldat."

His movements were slow, purposeful as he moved towards her. He said nothing as he became hurried, almost desperate.

This wasn't the first time she had been his mission. She had never been afraid of him, of the danger he possessed.

He held his gun in his metal hand,his other arm stretched out towards her. He spoke in Russian as he took her hand and pulled her into his side.

"I'm okay," she said back to him, switching to Russian. "I'm safe, Soldat."

He was silent as he took her away, his hold on her tight. She wrapped her arms around him as he took her away on his bike. Her arms were tight around him, face pressed against his muscled back.

All the while, she had no idea she was being tracked.

***

He held her tight as H.Y.D.R.A tried to pull them apart. But The Winter Soldier wasn't going to let her go.

"Soldat," she whispered, thumb moving over his cheek. "I'm okay. You can let me go."

A grunt left his lips, but he made no move to release her. But then they started to say those fucking words. "Longing."

"No!" She cried. She searched his blue eyes, tried to work out who he was. The Soldier, or the man he used to be.

"Rusted."

"Soldat." His hand came to rest on top of hers, his other arm still holding her tight.

"Furnace."

He drew in a sharp breath, but he didn't let go of her. He wouldn't let go of her, until his mind wasn't his own.

When they finished those damned words, The Winter Soldier released her. He was still reluctant, moving slowly and unwillingly.

But, as soon as he let her go, they grabbed her, took her away from him. Unlike the Soldier, she wasn't brainwashed. She didn't need reconditioning.

She struggled as they took her away from The Soldier. But she would find her way back to him, she always did. The last time H.Y.D.R.A tried to keep them apart, The Winter Soldier slaughtered everybody in his way to get to her.

"Kidnapped by Captain America," said her handler, her researcher as he stalked towards her, notebook open. "I thought you were trained better than that."

She stared at him, resisting a scowl. "Father," she said and held her chin up. "I don't understand why I am here."

Her father released a chuckle. "We need to understand how, Darling. How did a highly skilled killer get kidnapped by Captain America."

She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her boots. "He caught me by surprise," she mumbled and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"How?"

"James."

She stopped in her tracks upon hearing his name, her mission forgotten. She knew that name. James. Her Soldier.

"You know James."

Her hands shook at her sides, ready to swing. "No," she managed to spit. But her voice was strained, as if it hurt to say.

But really, she didn't know a James. She knew The Winter Soldier, not the man he was before. The man he was before wasn't hers to know.

"Sorry about this, kid."

"I'm not a-"

But something hit the back of her head, and she crumpled to the floor.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice shaking. "I wasn't concentrating."

He wrote something down.

"It won't happen again."

"It won't happen again, what?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

They dragged her away after that, dragged her back to her soldat. But they didn't have to drag her, she went willingly. All she wanted was to get back to him. Her steps were hurried, her guards holding her back.

As soon as she was in the cell, she was upon him. "Soldat," she whispered as she stood before where he sat on the bed.

His legs were already parted, but he gave her enough room to climb between them. His hands settled on the backs of her thighs as he stared up at her.

Again, she couldn't tell who she was looking at. The Winter Soldier, or James.

Her hands settled in his shoulders. "Soldat," she whispered again. "James."

"I know that name," he whispered.

"It's yours, according to the man that kidnapped me."

A sigh left his lips. His hands moved up, settling on her waist. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, blinking when she pushed his hair out of his face.

She shook her head. "No, but he wanted to get to you," she answered and kissed him. It was only quick, testing what James would let her do.

He kissed her back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What if I could get you out of here?" He whispered, his flesh hand moving up her back. "Would you want to come with me?"

This was all she had ever known. But she hated it. There had to be better for her out there, better with him. With James, with her Soldier. She would take him any way she could get him. As James. As the soldier. As Bucky.

She nodded her head as she climbed into his lap. "In a heartbeat," she whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder.

His hand closed around something around her back. He tugged it from her shirt and held it in his palm. "I think I've found us a way out, sweetheart."

She was so damn scared, but she had him by her side. Her James. Her Soldier.

[abbotsanatomy]

hello!! i love ur writing you’re feeding my abbot addiction <33 could you write a fic with a depressed reader, maybe she had a hard case that hit close to home that ended badly and is really lingering for her, and jack noticed because she’s been more withdrawn and distant for the past few days and he tries to get her to talk about it and she says shes fine then blah blah fast forward shes on yhe roof crying after working a double :) sorry im a fiend for hurt comfort

⨳ PROTECTING THE HIVE

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: (20-ish year) age gap, resident/attending relationship, workplace romance, depictions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation, kinda medical malpractice (lol), panic attack, allusions to child abuse. author's note: i had no idea what to name this, so here's my attempt at being funny... (also keep the compliments coming, they're feeding my ego <33 mwah)

You used to love your bed. It used to be a huge source of comfort. And sleep. Sleep is a special commodity when you work night shifts at a trauma center.

Now, you hate it. Because whenever you aren't working, you're just lying there. Not even asleep, just staring at the ceiling. Half of the time, you want to get up and be with your hot, older boyfriend.

The other half of the time, your mind is just pulling out the most horrendous memories possible, making you relive them, and wish you were dead. There's a bottle of pills on your nightstand you know would do the trick. You won't let yourself.

People rely on you. Jack relies on you. You save lives every day; you just wish you didn't have to lose so many along the way.

The only place you can escape your own thoughts is the ER. So, you throw yourself into your work. You work twice as hard, for twice as long.

Of course, Jack notices. He can see the most imperceptible changes in your demeanor, so this major shift doesn't exactly fly under his radar.

Be that as it may, you won't tell him any of it. He's a natural worrier. He hovers and he worries. That's just who he is. You're doing him a huge favor, really.

Besides, out of all the things your coping mechanism could be, it's saving lives. Who wouldn't support that?

So, you work yourself to the bone guilt-free. You take on double shifts with a few extra hours sprinkled on top. It's more than tiring, but it also means that when you get home and you're in bed, you pass out. You don't lay there for hours thinking about the kid who died in your ER two weeks ago.

You're careful about it, too. You change your scrubs and chug a cup of that terrible break room coffee before Jack comes in for the night shift.

Tonight's another one of those long, grueling, self-inflicted shifts. You've got a Red Bull in one hand, and a patient's bloodwork in the other. You've assessed labs like this one a million times, but the numbers aren't making any sense right now. Parker passes by you with a quick tap on your shoulder to bring your attention to her.

“Hey, you want me to count you in for the rock climbing thing this Sunday?” she asks, opening up one of the ER computers, “It was fun last time, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly.

You're not too sure you can come up with a viable excuse right now, so you'll just have to cancel later. It was really fun, it just sounds like too much effort right now.

She walks away with a nod, when one of the nurses calls for her. When you start feeling surrounded in the middle of the ER hallway, you make your way to the break room. It feels even more stuffy, somehow.

You grip the papers in your hands tighter. The throbbing in your head that hasn't really left for the past two weeks has become unbearable now.

Noises are too loud. Everyone's too close. You need to get out, now.

Everything in your hand gets abandoned on the break room counter. You make your way as swiftly as possible past the patient’s rooms. A hand gently grips your arm, before you can pull the emergency exit open.

“Are you alright?”

Jack's low cadence coupled with his steady touch on your arm make you want to burst out into tears right then and there.

“I'm fine. I just—” your voice cracks.

“I need a minute,” you tell him, willing your voice to be as firm as you can manage. You can't even pull your gaze up from the floor. It isn't clear if he's buying it or not.

He lets go of your arm, and you can finally run up the hospital's stairs to the rooftop. You're completely out of breath, and still wildly overstimulated by the time you get there.

You pull the roof's metal door open. The moment the cold December air hits your face, it calms your panic down. But it brings with it a wave of sadness that can't be quelled or distracted away. You let yourself feel it.

You're out of control, now. Hands shaking, limbs completely wracked by these huge, full-body sobs. You steady yourself with your arms on one of the roof's AC units, when the memories start flooding your mind.

The kid you killed, he'd come in a week before. He had bruises all over, cuts where he wasn't supposed to. You passed the information onto someone on the day shift, so they can tell the department social worker. The next day you came back, he was gone.

A week later, he was dying in your arms. His blood literally staining your hands is a memory you'll never be able to erase. You spiral, his first and last visit to the ER flashing in your mind with equal consequence.

The footsteps growing closer barely register to your ears over your wailing. The moment Jack pulls you close, a hand on your jaw to bring your eyes to his, you instinctively pull away. He's insistent, though. He was trying to give you space, but look where that's gotten you.

“Hey, hey,” he says firmly, to grab your attention.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. He quickly realizes he can't get you to understand anything he says, not right now. So he does the next best thing.

He holds you. Really tight. So tight you can only smell his cologne and that sterile hospital scent that lingers on him for hours after a shift. It reminds you of home. You see him almost every day, but you miss him. He somehow always knows exactly what you need.

It takes a good ten minutes for you to stop crying in his arms. He's happy to be there, just glad you're slowly calming down. When your breathing evens out, and your eyes have dried out, you look up at him.

Where you think there should be disappointment, maybe even hatred, there's only admiration. If you’d actually picked up a scalpel and killed someone, he wouldn't even flinch, you think.

His gaze alone is making this a lot easier, “Better?”

You nod. Your eyes feel heavy, like you might just sleep here in his arms.

“It's the oxytocin,” he jokes.

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle.

His scrub top looks incredibly comfortable. For the first time in weeks, you wish you were just in bed. You could lay on his chest and have the best sleep you've had in too many nights to count. The best you can get right now is resting your forehead on the black fabric. That's exactly what you do.

Jack lets a few seconds go back before speaking up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” you take a deep breath.

I killed him. The words die on your tongue. You can't say them.

Jack must notice this is causing you distress, so he runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the top of your head to calm you down.

“We don't have to, right now,” he whispers, “Not ever, even. But you do need to talk about it to someone.”

You nod in agreement, against his shirt. Your coping mechanisms are so not working.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blank, “I don't...I don't know.”

“Sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. You're done.”

He pulls your head up with a hand on each cheek, “Clock out. Go home. Have some food, and I'll be there in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You both walk to the emergency exit. In the stairwell, you turn to him, your eyes still glistening.

“Hey, um. I'm not fine, Jack,” you admit.

“I know that,” he tells you. “But you will be. I'll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

[written-in-knife]

Dressing for the Cloudcall

Leona Kingscholar x fem!Reader, pre-relationship

Word count: 4680 (dialogue heavy to start, stick with it, I find a rhythm in there somewhere)

Category: one-shot, fluff, angst if you squint really really hard

Leona's family is sneaky and knows him very well, and you get roped into some Cloudcalling dress up. And maybe Leona is into that.

I loved Cloudcalling on the Savanna but I was a little disappointed we didn’t get even a hinted outfit, and this idea has been bouncing around in my little walnut brain for MONTHS and it finally spilled out in the span of like two hours. Tried to keep Yuu ambiguous, female, hair long enough to braid and put into a bun, and she’s shorter than Falena’s wife. Your Yuu is six feet tall? Cool, Falena’s wife is taller 👏AS👏SHE👏SHOULD👏BE. Reading back, I think I have a crush on my own version of Falena’s wife, as I should. I just imagined the most beautiful woman I could.

Kifaji had to step away to take a phone call while everyone was checking out the food stalls and Leona almost looked grateful to see his back disappearing into the crowd as he handed you one of the baobab hibiscus teas. You thanked him quietly before sipping on the drink, as refreshing as promised. Grim was just about to pull everyone over to a meat vendor-- surprise surprise-- when Kifaji returned, a sly looking smile on his face.

"What's got you so happy, ya old bird?" Leona huffed as Grim drooled over the meat.

"My apologies, but I need to borrow Miss Yuu for awhile." Kifaji said simply, turning his ominous smile to you.

"What for?" Leona practically growled, putting a hand on your shoulder before you could even think to step away from the group.

"On such short notice, we could not procure an outfit for her." Kifaji explained, folding his hands behind his back. "I, however, did not want her to feel left out, so I made arrangements which are now ready. I will return her at your next destination."

"It's fine, Leona." You tried to assure him, patting his hand gently. "I do feel a little left out of the fun."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance before releasing your shoulder and crossing his arms.

"We're headed to Ivory Springs after this. Do not be late." He directed the command at Kifaji rather than you.

"B-But, Yuu look at this! And these!" Grim was actually drooling over the meat in the stall, turning back to you with tears in his eyes that practically begged you to let him stay.

You sighed heavily and shook your head. "Vil, can you keep Grim out of trouble for me? I won't be long."

"Of course." Vil nodded, glancing down at the direbeast as he cheered and danced around in a little circle. "I'll try my best to not let him eat through Leona's entire fortune."

"Good enough for me." You chuckled before turning to Kifaji, who smiled again and held an arm out for you to lead the way out of the markets.

You walked side by side with Kifaji to the entrance of the market, only for him to place a hand on your upper back to direct you towards a waiting black car just up the street. As you approached, a beastwoman in full guard regalia opened the back door for you to enter. You thanked her quietly before stepping into the blissfully air conditioned car, Kifaji getting in on the other side.

"It's not that far to the hotel," you chuckled as the driver reentered the car, "and I'm not as prone to heatstroke as Jack is."

"Oh, we aren't going to the hotel." Kifaji said, as if just remembering he "forgot" to tell you about it.

"Oh?"

There was a minute of silence as he didn't answer your unspoken question. A few turns through the city, he broke it, turning to you with a pleasant smile.

"Tell me, Yuu, what is the nature of your relationship with Prince Leona?"

You were shocked for a moment at the bluntness of the question. "Is this because I'm the only girl? Because I can assure you, we're all friends--"

"My apologies, that isn't what I meant." He cut you off with a small chuckle and a lift of his hand. "If you'd humor me?"

"I mean... we're friends? Friendly, at least." You explained, wringing your hands in your lap. "He's helped me out of a few tough spots, I've helped him. We hang out on occasion. He's nice, I dunno." You wouldn't dare say it out loud, especially to the chamberlain, but you sometimes secretly wished there was more there.

He gave you a warm smile, much like a father would give to a daughter talking about her crush. "I see. As you well know, I've seen to Leona since the day he was born, and I haven't seen him so... protective of someone since... well, ever. That boy has never exactly been friendly, let alone "nice" to just about anyone since his mother passed. It's refreshing to see."

You could feel your face getting hotter with each word the chamberlain said. You desperately wanted the subject to change. "S-So, if we aren't going to the hotel, where are we going?"

"The Royal Palace." Kifaji said casually, as if you were on your way to some unnamed park.

"What?! Why?"

"As I said, I made arrangements for your outfit. You need to look the part to represent your team!" He said, another sly smile on his face as he pumped his fist in front of him in an imitation cheer. "And, I regret to say, you stick out like a sore thumb among those boys."

"But-- I-I thought-- we--"

"And here we are. A short drive, is it not? The walk would have been significantly longer."

You looked out the window at the palace, a grand stone building at the top of the hill. It almost looked as if it were carved out of the rock itself. You were startled out of your thoughts as the driver opened your door for you again, the chamberlain outside waiting to give you a hand out. You thanked them both as you took the offered hand and stepped out, following Kifaji closely as he walked.

"So, uh... just pop in, change clothes, and head back down to the market, yeah?" You asked nervously as you glanced at the guards you passed by, feeling eyes on your back.

"Just so." Kifaji assured you, another sly smile as he stopped at a large set of doors already opened, swinging a hand out for you to go first.

You weren't sure what was about to happen. Maybe you'd be thrown in a dungeon for fraternizing with their prince, or maybe they meant to keep you here until Leona himself came to find you, or--

"There she is!" A booming and excited voice came from across the room as you entered, startling you to turn and look.

A mound of long ginger hair twisted into braids was running up to greet you, perched atop a muscle-bound mountain of a man. He was dressed similarly to Leona, but wearing white instead of black, still adorned in gold, an enormous smile on his face. The guards at the door stood at attention as he got to your side of the room, clasping your hand quickly in a firm and enthusiastic handshake.

"You must be the girl Kifaji told me so much about!" He beamed at you, reminding you so much of Kalim in this moment. Wait.

"So much?" You parroted, looking at Kifaji, who simply shrugged.

"Oh, you must tell me how you got Leona to be so... docile? That isn't the right word. He listens to you?! Insane!" The man rambled, still holding onto your hand. "You must tell me everything!"

"Falena, you'll scare the poor girl." Another voice rang out from the other side of the room.

The man, Falena, finally released your hand and turned to see the woman walking towards you. She was elegant and gorgeous and so poised, dressed in similar colors and patterns to her husband, also adorned in gold. You suddenly felt very intimidated as you finally realized just where you were standing.

"Oh, but my love," Falena sighed, still smiling, "think of everything we could learn! What's Leona like at school, anyhow?"

"H-He, uh..." you hesitated as the woman joined her husband’s side. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them exactly how he was, and it wasn't a good idea to lie. Rock and a hard place. "He's certainly there."

Falena let out a booming laugh at this, his wife joining in with a laugh that sounded like bells in the large chamber.

"We know of Leona's troubles at school." She assured you, holding out a hand to shake. "I am Shani, and I'm sure my husband, Falena, did not introduce himself before launching into his questioning."

"I'm Yuu," you said, gently grabbing her hand and shaking it, "a pleasure."

"Likewise." She smiled warmly at you as you both retracted your hands. "Kifaji has asked me to dress you for the occasion."

"The festival?"

"Leona brought a girl home!" Falena cut in, the smile surely cemented on his face at this point. "A sign things are turning around for my little brother, to be sure!"

"O-Oh! No, wait, I'm--" You practically choked on your words trying to get them out fast enough, feeling your face burning again, "Leona and I aren't a couple!"

"I know! But everything Kifaji told us over the phone just makes it all the more interesting!" He gushed grabbing your shoulders. "Forgive me for being forward, but you smell like him! You must be together often!"

"I-I just keep watch while he naps, it's not like we--"

"Falena. You are making her nervous." Shani said sharply, trying to hide her amused smile as she swatted his hands off you and looped her arm into yours. "Come, we should get you into something else before Leona comes looking for you."

She didn't wait for a response before pulling you off towards the door she came through. You glanced back to Kifaji and Falena, seeing them both smiling at you, though Kifaji's looked nefarious. You faced forward again, looking up at the glamorous woman holding your arm, still amazed that you'd just met the crown prince and princess. Shani led you down the hall and into a large bedroom, turning quickly into a nearly equally large closet. Gorgeous outfits-- if you were to judge just based on the fabric-- lined the walls on either side, the far wall was large, open windows looking over the expanse of the savanna, and the wall behind was adorned with large mirrors. You couldn't help but be impressed as Shani practically floated across the room and picked up a dress that was already waiting on a chair and held it up for you.

"I hope you don't mind, I already picked something out for you." She explained as she approached. "Don't worry about the length, we can work with it however we need. This is going home with you."

"What? No, I couldn't." You said quickly as she deposited the dress in your hands.

"Do you see where we are right now? You absolutely can." She laughed, gesturing to the lines of clothes. "Go ahead and get changed, I'll be right outside, just let me know when you're ready."

Her nose scrunched up adorably in her excitement as she smiled even wider at your for a moment, her hands clapping under her chin once before she exited the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, you sighed at the absolute whirlwind you'd just gone through. You turned to the large mirrors on the closest wall and held the dress up to your body. It would definitely be long, but Shani was a tall woman who seemed to like wearing heels, so you weren't terribly surprised. Resigned to your fate, you began to change out of your current outfit. The dress had very thin straps, so your sports bra would have to go. Once actually in the dress, it fit remarkably well, other than the length. The thin straps spread down into a V neck and stretched to the skirt in the back, the skirt itself starting a little below the bust, similar to a halter top. You couldn't help but notice the patterns on the fabric coordinated to Leona's cloak, bright orange and black not helping the case. You folded your clothes into a neat pile in front of the mirror, honestly a little relieved how well the dress held up to movement, no risk of spilling out the sides or front when lifting your arms or bending over.

"Shani? I'm ready." You called to the door, hiking the skirt up to walk over.

She entered the room again with an excited smile, looking you up and down as you stood there.

"You are definitely shorter than me." She laughed as you let the skirt go, a few inches of fabric bundling up at your feet. "But we can fix that, easy. Ten minutes. First!" She walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling off a length of fabric she'd set on top. "Do you know how to wrap your hair? Keep it off your neck and out of your eyes."

"I do not." You shook your head prompting her to wave you off.

"I can teach you, it's very easy." She smiled, joining you at the mirror again.

She turned you to face the mirror, standing behind you and draping the fabric over your shoulders. She undid the braid your hair was always in, gently combing the knots out of your hair with her fingers.

"I always used to do this with my little sisters." She explained softly as she styled your hair to the top of your head in a large bun. "I love Cheka with all my heart and soul, but I do so hope we have a little girl some day, I miss having girls around to dress up with and do hair and everything."

"What, Cheka doesn't let you do his hair?" You smiled at her in the mirror as she began wrapping the scarf, making sure you were carefully watching her steps.

She laughed brightly. "He does! But as he gets older he may not. Plus, there isn’t exactly a ton of hair to work with, he prefers to keep it short."

"No, I get what you mean though." You said fondly. "I used to have my mom do my hair all the time, but she was always there to fix it when I eventually took it out and complained about it being in my face."

"Where are you from, by the way?"

Your face fell at the question. "It doesn't really matter. Crowley doesn't seem like he's able to send me back anyhow."

Shani looked like she was about to press further, but stopped herself. "There, all done." She said with another warm smile as she smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the turban style she'd done. "Not half bad, if I do say so myself."

"It looks great, thank you." You were smiling again, not pointing out the, again, same fabric Leona had on his scarf. Maybe it was a common pattern? You somehow doubted it.

"Now, I have a few accessories for you to tie it all together." She explained, walking over to a shelf opposite the chest of drawers. "I will have you put these on to see how they look, then you give me the dress and I will hem the bottom up for you."

"Thank you for this, Shani." You said sincerely, turning to look at her with a warm smile. "You really didn't have to go to these lengths."

"Nonsense, a friend of Leona's is a friend of ours." She assured you. "We want to make sure you enjoy your first time to the Sunset Savanna to the fullest."

..

Leona and the others had arrived at the palace, Leona planning to swipe a car to avoid having to take Kifaji with them. However, to his surprise, Kifaji was already outside speaking with one of the guards at the door.

"Oh for fucks sake..." Leona growled as he connected the dots.

"What?" Kalim asked, glancing over to the chamberlain. "Oh, it's Kifaji! Hey Kifaji!"

The chamberlain looked up in surprise at the call of his name, locking eyes with a furious Leona and giving him another sly smile.

"Wait here." Leona snapped at the group, not giving them a chance to protest before marching over to the door. "What the hell?!"

"Ah, Prince Leona." Kifaji said coolly as the guard stood at attention for the prince's approach. "I was under the impression you were not coming home during your visit."

"That why you brought Yuu here?" He spat. "Thought you were goin' to the hotel."

"I don't recall ever saying my arrangements were at the hotel." Kifaji said, though the infuriating smile and raise of his eyebrows suggested he knew exactly what he was up to.

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering expletives under his breath before looking back up. "Where is Yuu? We're goin'."

"She is changing, currently. You and your friends are more than welcome to wait inside, if you'd prefer."

"Yeah, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Did Falena put you up to thi--"

"UNCA!"

Leona nearly instinctively side stepped the little ball of fiery orange that flung itself into his arms, grunting as the fuzzball impacted into his abdomen. Kifaji, while now safe from the verbal lashing Leona wanted to deal out, was not safe from the deadly glare that was shot his way.

“Quit clingin’ to me like that! Knock it off!” Leona snapped halfheartedly at his nephew who, undeterred by the tone, continued to beam up at him.

“I got so excited when I heard you were coming home!” The boy chirped quickly, grabbing his uncle’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Leona ignored the amused muttering of his schoolmates behind him as he rolled his eyes at the child’s antics.

Cheka continued, still swinging Leona’s arm around. “Mama said to be on the lookout for you! Do you wanna come play with me? We could play tag, or hide-and-seek, or--”

“Cheka.” Leona snarled, finally making the boy stop. “What was that about your mother?”

“Oh… I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh for fff…” Leona let the curse fizzle out into a loud grumble, trying to rub away the headache blooming in his temple. Of course it was Shani’s idea.

“I should go tell Mama you’re here!” Cheka said excitedly, darting off before Leona could stop him.

..

You slipped into the newly hemmed dress, a new length of fabric now flaring out the bottom that, once again, highly suspiciously matched the fabric of Leona's pants. Three times makes a pattern, damn if it didn't look good though. You were about to call out to Shani when you heard giggling through the door, and a boy's voice talking. You waited a moment before Shani knocked, sounding amused.

"All ready in there?" She called out.

"Yeah, ready." You called back, prompting her to enter the room.

Her smile grew ever wider as she looked at your outfit. "I've one more thing, and we need to be quick. Seems we've been found out."

There was a small gasp as Shani walked into the room, a tiny mess of ginger hair standing in the bedroom.

"I remember you!" Cheka said excitedly. "You're Unca's friend! From school!"

"I am! It's nice to see you again, Cheka!" You replied just as enthusiastically as Shani pulled one more thing off the shelf.

"It's nice to see you too! You match Unca!"

"I knew I wasn't crazy!" You nearly shouted, turning to Shani as your face burned again. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"Yuu, you are a beautiful girl in an unfamiliar place." She explained, walking forward and wrapping something around your waist. "These are recognizable patterns of the leader of the Sunset Warriors, of the second prince, no one would dare do anything to you while you are wearing these."

"Do anything?" You echoed as she fastened the belt, which matched the rest of the boys'.

"Swindle you, pickpocket, worse." She listed grimly as she adjusted your necklace. "Sunrise City is as safe a city as any during a heavy tourist season. We want you to enjoy your time here, not wonder where your wallet may have gone."

"I..." you sighed heavily. "I get that. Thank you, really. This is all very generous."

"You can pay me back by marrying my brother in law." Shani teased as she exited the closet, making your face burn tenfold.

"Hey!"

"YOU AND UNCA ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Oops…"

Cheka insisted you carry him through the halls, Shani nearly telling him to return to his studies before you assured her that it was fine. You spent the entire walk trying to explain to the boy that, no, you were not marrying his uncle. Cheka, however, kept talking about the imaginary wedding and all the things you needed to have there. You resigned yourself to not stopping him. He was talking about the cake when you entered the large room you'd first met Falena and Shani.

"Aha! There she is! A much more appropriate look for your guest, don't you agree, brother?" Falena said, prompting you to turn your gaze from Cheka to him, looking just in time to watch him clap Leona on the back.

Leona said nothing, just staring for a moment before clicking his tongue and looking away. You took this as annoyance for a moment before Cheka spoke up.

"Unca, unca!" Cheka said excitedly from your arms. "When you two get married you need to have a BIG cake, okay? And there needs to be chocolate, and 'biscus, and--"

"Married?" He asked incredulously, turning back to look at the boy, not able to hide the red on his cheeks now, before looking to Shani. "What did you do?"

"Children have impressive imaginations, don't they?" She asked pleasantly, taking Cheka from your arms to hers. "Thank you for letting me dress you, Yuu."

"Thank you for dressing me," you smiled at her, ignoring the burning on your own cheeks, "it was fun."

She smiled before taking your hand and leaning in to whisper to you. "If you cannot go home for school holidays, our home is open to you, just say the word."

You nearly teared up at this, simply nodding and squeezing her hand. "Thanks for everything, Shani."

Falena laughed as you walked over to join him and Leona, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'd give you some words of warning, but you seem to know how to handle my brother better than I do at this point!"

"He's not so bad." You chuckled as he pointedly refused to look at you. "It was nice to meet you, Falena."

"You too! Come back anytime!" He beamed down at you before Leona grabbed your arm and started dragging you out of the room.

You waved back to the crown prince and princess as you were hauled out of the room and into the hall. Leona dragged you towards the entrance before making a sharp left a few doors down into another hallway.

"Leona--?"

"Shut up."

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth at his words, and you suddenly felt ashamed of your actions. Were you supposed to text him an SOS as soon as you realized where you were? When you realized what was happening? Before you could think about it further, he dragged you into a room at the end of the hall and shut the door, quickly caging you with his arms against it.

"What did they tell you?" He growled low, a dangerous tone you'd only heard a few times since you first stepped on his tail in the garden.

"N-Nothing--"

"Don't play dumb with me right now, herbivore, what did they say?"

"Kifaji and Falena kept saying that you're nice to me, and Shani said if I wore your patterns I'm less likely to get robbed." You said quickly, omitting her comment about marriage. "I was mostly with Shani, we talked about her sisters and my mom and the outfit, that's it."

His green eyes stared into your soul for a moment before he grumbled something under his breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against the wall next to your head.

"Leona?"

"Shani thinks she's funny." He said quietly, you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. "Makin' you match me, in public no less..."

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it--"

"Are you?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes again, closer this time. "She's making fun of me."

"She's not."

"You don't know her."

"She's not making fun of you." You whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"You don't know what I say in those phone calls home." He muttered back. "Lemme guess, Shani already had that dress picked out for you, as if she plucked it from her own closet."

"...Yes?"

"You think the crown princess would ever wear the second-born's pattern?" He leaned in again, his jaw bumping your cheek as he moved to whisper in your ear. "She had that made for you, on purpose, for the day you eventually showed up."

"W-What do you say... in the calls home...?" You asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to reach your arms around him.

"Too much, apparently." He chuckled softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You felt like you would combust into flames any second. "Looks good on you though... suits you."

"L-Leona?"

He pulled back again, close enough to bump noses. "We have to get to the springs, otherwise our resident pretty princess won't play tomorrow." He whispered, still making no move to pull away.

"What..." your wet your suddenly very dry lips, not missing how Leona's eyes flicked down for just a second to catch the motion, "what did you mean by "when I eventually showed up...?""

"I said, don't play dumb, Yuu. You think I let just anyone braid my hair? You think I didn't notice that you do that while I'm tryin' to sleep?" He chuckled again, his grin almost looking like he was just flashing his teeth at you. "I pretend to not notice a lot of things."

"I'm not just anyone...?"

"You haven't been "just anyone" for awhile now." He muttered leaning in just a little closer, his nose brushing against yours gently before he stopped. "We need to go."

He let the moment hang in the minuscule amount of air between you for a second longer before finally pulling away, glancing over your outfit again as he did, making a triumphant little noise.

"Looks good on you." He muttered again before grabbing you by the arm to pull you away from the door.

Once you were out of the way, he opened the door again and walked out into the hallway, leaving you feeling like your knees were about to give out. With a moment to look around the room, you realized he'd pulled you into a bedroom that looked a little too similar to his back at the college.

"Herbivore." He barked from down the hall, kick starting you again.

"Y-Yeah!" You called back before hiking your skirt and jogging to catch up to him again.

If your friends, namely Vil, noticed the similarities between your outfit and Leona's, they were gracious enough not to say anything about it. You were, however, highly complimented on it, Kalim making a point to spin you around to see the dress twirl. Kifaji had a very self satisfied look on his face off to the side, which was quickly wiped away when Leona finally announced his plan to leave him in the dust.

..

Back at Night Raven College, you and Leona went back to your normal routine as if nothing had ever happened. You almost wondered if it had been a very sweet dream until you saw the dress in your closet again. You grabbed the skirt, rubbing the fabric between your thumb and index finger, as if to remind yourself that it was real. It had happened.

"What? You longin' for the Sunset Savanna again?" Grim asked from your bed, you'd nearly forgotten he was there. "I am. You really missed out on that meat, hench-human. I wouldn't mind goin' back."

"Yeah... me neither." You sighed, releasing the dress. You stared at it longingly for another moment before shutting the closet door to continue getting ready for bed. A very sweet dream indeed.

[bellsbookshop]

let the light in

pairing: frank castle x reader

all the little ways that frank clings ⋆˙⟡

authors note: i just love the idea of frank being a secret cuddle bug, so this was born ! warnings for a concerning amount of fluff, frank being ridiculously cute with his need to cuddle up, and me waxing poetic ! as always, feedback [likes, comments, reblogs + asks] is welcome and appreciated ! title from lana del rey’s let the light in. reader is not explicitly gendered in this !

wc: 727

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you’ve always seen the light in frank, even if he’s convinced himself he’s nothing but darkness.

he’s rough and gritty like sandpaper, hard to love and harder to keep, but you touch him like he’s delicate, gentle and sweeter than anything he’s ever had. the first few months of dating you he’d been almost scared to touch you, afraid of staining your light with his blood soaked hands that’ll never be clean again. he tiptoed around you, treated you like fine china that he couldn’t afford, and he always woke up before you, disentangling himself from your cuddling arms as if he didn’t deserve them.

the frank you have now is worlds apart, like a stray dog who’s finally realized he’s home — there’s no more half worried glances after a hug, no shying away from your warmth with muttered excuses. now he craves your softness, burying himself in your light like he’s been born again within it. there’s hardly a moment where he isn’t at your heels, trailing after you with all the eagerness of a puppy; he’ll curl himself around you like a blanket, keeping you tucked up close under his arm without hesitation. his favorite moments are the simplest ones, the hints of domesticity he never thought he’d have again.

when you’re washing dishes he’s glued to your back, arms around your waist and big hands splayed out over your stomach. he’ll listen to whatever you’re rambling about, a few grunts and hums here and there so you know he’s listening. he’s got his head against yours, an unconscious sway to his movements as he soaks up all the love he can get before you start laughing at his clinginess, teasing the way he can’t let you move a step without being right behind you.

in the mornings he’ll drag you in closer when you try to get up, a firm denial of your need to get up and start the day — he never wants to leave the warmth and safety of your bed, not when the lights coming in so nicely, framing you in that golden glow. by the time he does let you up it’s nearly noon, and he’ll follow your every step even if he’s grumbling about having to get up, incapable of having you more than a foot away from him.

at the grocery store he’s boxing you in with his arms, pushing the cart with your back to his chest like a too big coat. it makes it a little hard to steer, but he’s making up for it by grabbing whatever you tell him, dropping kisses to the top of your head like he’ll die if he doesn’t; his warmth reminds you that you’re safe, no matter what or where you are. he carries all the groceries in one hand, the other arm wrapped tight around your waist keeping you tucked into his side even if the car’s only a few feet away.

he never lets you drive, says it’s because driving keeps him focused — but really it’s because of how perfect you look in his passenger seat, like you belong there with him in the setting sunlight. he’ll always have a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles mindlessly against it, keeping him grounded. sometimes he doesn’t even know how the two of you got home safe, completely distracted by the warmth of your skin and the sweet way you smile at him, pressing a kiss to your cheek at every red light to see it again and again and again.

he can hardly sleep without you when he’s home, the bed too cold without you in it, and he’s not above physically carrying you to bed when he’s decided it’s bedtime. your laughs fill the air and he can’t get enough, twirling you around a few times before dropping you down into the sheets gently and kissing you till he’s dizzy with it, perfectly content for a few brief moments. he’ll pull you in so close there’s hardly any space to breathe, burying his face in your neck and letting your warmth settle over him like a weighted blanket. he never lets you get far, not even when you’re sleeping, strong arms seeking you out to bring you back to his chest where you belong.

you’re his light, and he’ll never, ever stop clinging to that. ⋆˚࿔

[naamahdarling]

This.

Trap card.

I have struggled so much with this.

I ask this and just get people being nasty, or people trying to convince me of something I already believe but not actually answering the question.

Cut because this got brutally long.

Please don't attack me when I agree with ditching what we have, and just have questions about how to make it work. Just...consider how we go about this conversation nearly every time.

Prisons do not do what they are "supposed" to do. I fully get that. I fully get that the current system is ALREADY failing people who have been hurt, and making that harm even worse. I fully get that killing people is bad and that NO system for deciding who lives and dies will go uncorrupted for long because the very idea that we should be allowed to kill people in the context of creating justice is indicative that the system is already badly compromised. I totally and unilaterally oppose the death penalty (it is not the same as self-defense, at all). I know the current system creates far more victims than it helps. The system creates far more criminals than it deters, many of whom are not actually guilty of anything meaningful or who were not until they were victimized by the system.

What we have is really bad and needs to go!

We need to focus on victims and supporting them, and currently what we do does the exact opposite of that.

We need to focus also on offenders and how to prevent re-offense. What we do now does not prevent re-offense. It creates offenders.

I don't need to be convinced of any of that.

I do not see acknowledgement that there are going to be, always, a very few people who are dangerous and will not be able to be reformed, or steered away from offending again.

And saying "stop bringing up the very worst people as a gotcha!" isn't helpful. I'm not trying to be a smug smartass who wants to justify a love of prisons, violence, and revenge, or excuse a lack of support for ending this horrible system of abuse and violence. I don't want to throw people away or put them out of sight and out of mind. I don't think enacting vengeance on people has a place in a system based in any way on justice, even if the victim wants that vengeance. That sickens me to say, as someone who very much wants to harm with my own hands some people responsible for hurting me, and my loved ones, and who does not feel bad at all when bad things happen to terrible people. But how I feel is not how things should be run.

I'm genuinely asking for an answer.

Because we need to have an answer for better than "in our ideal society these crimes would not exist because they are caused by factors we would alleviate or eliminate".

I kind of think we need to assume that these people will exist, and we need to deal with that.

Not because some people are innately evil, I absolutely think that is a breathtakingly stupid idea on multiple levels, but because I really don't think that our current fucked up society is responsible for every harmful thing people do. Most, probably! But not all.

Literally when you look into the backgrounds of some people who have done really terrible shit, there just isn't always a reason for it. Or sometimes the reason appears to be shit that couldn't have been prevented.

I know people go to rape because it is genuinely unjustifiable EVER.

But because I know more about them, I think a lot about people who murder repeatedly without cause. So that is the big one for me personally. That is the one that seems both most fucking inexplicable to me, and yet most thoroughly studied. And it also usually comes with sexual abuse. Horrible!!!

Like, if we abused kids less there would be fewer of these folks. We could prevent that, sure. But head injuries while young are a very very common factor if you look at serial killers. It's honestly very fucking sad. And what the hell do you do about it? Kids fall out of trees or fall down stairs or just get fuckin dropped, and it isn't anyone's fault. I'm sure there are other factors we have not identified but will. We can hopefully eventually compensate for those as best we can, but because some of those are probably not going to be preventable, I think we are still going to have to deal with a non-zero number of genuinely very very dangerous people.

Bringing them up is not inappropriate, and they aren't so rare that we don't need to consider the issue.

I don't understand how you can know the details of what certain people did and think "this is so aberrant and rare we don't need to include this in our considerations." I won't name names, because then people start arguing specifics of those cases, but there's two I am thinking of, and I can't say that I feel great about answers that are just making fun of people for bringing them up because Jesus Christ.

Also, horribly, a lot of people who have done horrific things repeatedly say that they have always been different and couldn't have been made different, and believe they always will do these things if they can, and many do not feel too much shame about it. I say that not to make them look fundamentally evil, I don't think they are because evil doesn't exist (and the idea has no place in justice anyway) but to point out that these people are often by their own admission probably never going to be changed into people who won't hurt others. We shouldn't give up, but I think maybe we should acknowleege that they may be right sometimes, and what then?

We need to have a plan in advance so when it happens, we know what to do. If we don't need the plan, great. But I really think that we will. For sure, if we catch someone doing this shit for the fifth time, clearly we aren't doing a great job at stopping them.

I will readily accept that prison as it exists isn't the answer. I don't want to push them out of the community, they're part of it! Every single person who does bad things is also a neighbor, a coworker, a partner, a relative, a friend. They are all either loved by someone/were loved by someone, or have been utterly failed. Exile isn't the answer to this! Exile is the opposite of what we need!

What is? What are some alternatives? For the very worst offenders you can imagine, what should be done? And are those solutions ethical? Or simply less bad?

Keeping someone under constant observation is super bad for their mental health. Keeping people comfortably captive while you "rehabilitate" them is, to me, just a really polite prison with overtones of psychiatric abuse and brainwashing -- your system would not be immune to that, trying to influence people's behavior while subjecting them to an imbalance of power is inherently if not abusive, at least bordering on it at all times -- and furthermore it is a thing we have tried and it also has not worked out so well. I hear people throwing ideas around that sound suspiciously like psychiatric detainment, which also must be abolished, as it is a form of imprisonment, without even the few benefits of being allowed a trial. And some will not be able to be rehabilitated, either because they don't live long enough, the right approach has not been applied, they flat-out do not want to be, or they possess a personality that violently conflicts with the method chosen (if you look at psychiatric patients, some who do very poorly and become violent in nonconsensual or coerced detainment would benefit from other solutions and never be a risk to themselves or others; detainment, basically being abducted, makes lashing out much more likely).

We recognize detainment and surveillance and violating privacy is bad to do in prisons and that these things beget violence, and hopefully people recognize this is bad in forced inpatient facilities for the same reason. It's going to be an issue in any situation where we infringe upon someone's rights to go where they like and do what they like and have privacy. Those are at the core of alternatives proposed by many.

If we say that some harms are permissible in order to prevent harm to others, which ones? Who makes that call?

I'm not asking this because I think "prisons are great, actually, or even better, some people should be killed!", or because I am a wiseass and think asking these questions will poke enough holes in the idea of prison abolition that it sinks and goes away.

I'm asking because I have never actually seen this answered to my satisfaction. And I need it to be, because until then, I will not be able to successfully advocate for it.

The best I have seen is "What we are aiming for is so different from what we have, I am not sure how to get there. We know some things will help, let's do those. We work out the rest."

I love that a huge part of this answer, MOST of this answer, is "smarter people than you and me are working on this, so let's look to them, and let's also bring in victims and ask what they need, and let's bring in "criminals" and ask them what they needed and what they do need, and let's make sure everyone has the supports they need to thrive both before and after trauma, and that people who have done harmful things are kept from doing it again but not treated horribly.

I love the truth that preventing and supporting is going to fix more than punishing and ostracizing. The recognition that what we are doing is a complete failure is great.

But it doesn't answer the question everyone makes fun of. And we need to do that -- yes, even though the number of people who will offend repeatedly is small and will get smaller if we start addressing the actual root causes of people doing harm to others -- or this idea won't get much further into the general population, and outside activist circles.

This question is a huge stumbling block for communication. It prevents people from getting on board.

At the very least, there's going to be a very long transitional period where we do need to decide what to do with these people, because the measures we eventually want to put in place to prevent and protect won't be there yet.

If we put them in place tomorrow, there would still be people so damaged by their circumstances that they wouldn't be able to be helped in the remaining time they have left. Those people need to be helped, and treated well, but the damage is done. And there will still be victims who will never be able to move past the idea of retribution in the time remaining to them.

The problems will remain for more than one lifetime. We should still push hard against what we have, I'm not saying we shouldn't. I'm saying that the end goal actually doesn't tell us how to deal with the ugly parts of getting there.

Even if people who have been hurt don't like the answer, they very very much do deserve an answer to their question that is more than ridicule.

Not having an answer to give them seems an awful lot like telling them their pain doesn't matter because the way they express it is unacceptable.

I should know, because that's how it feels to me. I'm still on board, but I still need an answer. I NEED an answer.

"so youre saying we should just allow rapists and abusers to remain in society?" where else would they go ⁉️😭🙏 so confused can you show me this place outside of society

[itzpookiepooh]

Dump Him!

You ask them for relationship advice

“I need advice.” You huff falling onto the couch where Caleb sat. Your head was in his lap as you pout, he looks down at you in confusion. He adjusts his position taking his ankle off his knee.

“Shoot pipsqueak I’m all ears.” He assures you making you take a deep breath. This was like a mini therapy session you guys had every once in a while. Too often for you not often enough for him.

“So he’s always running to help his best friend and I mean running. She called him to stay at her house because she’s going through a break up.” You explained as Caleb nodded slowly. He didn’t see the big deal because he always comes running when you call.

“I mean that is his best friend and think of us—“ You cut him off before he could say anything stupid. “The best friend is a girl and he spends the night. No matter what we’re going through he runs to her.”

“You should kill him.” He states bluntly before unpausing his show as if he solved your problem entirely.

“Caleb!”

You just got done arguing with your boyfriend again. Rafayel just watched with a bored expression, he was use to the bickering. He just wished you would dump him already. He watched you pace as you screamed at him which was out of character for you, in his mind at least. You hung up slamming your phone on the counter.

“Ugh! He’s insufferable. What should I do?” You ask more out loud but Rafayel was going to answer anyway.

“What did he do this time?” He asked taking about bite out of a grape from the bowl. You pout putting your chin on your fist. You know Rafayel and you also know he loathes your boyfriend.

“Ditched our date tonight for his friends.” You sigh, Rafayel on the other hand glares at you. He then got an idea.

“You should invite him out here to make up. It’s beautiful and quiet.” Rafayel counts on his fingers before your face fell flat.

“I’m not bringing him out here for you to kill him.” You deadpan making him drop his act and shrug.

“Worth a shot.” He throws a grape into his mouth.

Your leg bounced as you stared at your phone waiting for a text back. Sylus looks over his glasses to watch your leg bounce. You were shaking the couch with these nerves of yours. He couldn’t focus on a single word with all this bouncing. He knew you were arguing with that no good boyfriend of yours. He grabbed your leg without looking away from his book. Your gaze snaps over to him.

“Sorry.” You mumble, Sylus closes the book with a sigh, “What is it now?”

“He’s jealous because I spend a lot of time with you. Which is bullshit by the way! He spends a lot of time with his friends too!” You ramble as you wave your arms around. Sylus just watches you as you express yourself.

“What should I do?” You groan leaning into him. Sylus hums before rubbing your arm.

“We could give him something to be jealous about.” Sylus suggests, his smirk widening as he looks at you.

“You’re never serious.” You deadpan making him chuckle.

“Worth a shot.”

You get in Zayne’s car in a hurry accidentally slamming the door. You were so irritated that the night felt ruined because your boyfriend wanted to argue. He hated whenever Zayne was around but you make sure to remind him this is your childhood friend. His jealousy was ugly and Zayne would tell you constantly. The boy thought you were sleeping together for goodness sake! Not that you would mind. You explained all this to Zayne knowing he’d probably say what he usually does. You were just waiting for it.

“Maybe I can fix him…fix us y’know?” You fall back into the seat as Zayne stops at a red light. He looks over at you with the most serious face ever.

“Did he defecate on himself?” He asks seriously, you blink at him as if he was confused.

“No?” You question more than answer. Zayne hums as he nods his head slowly, “then why would you change him?”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s as sassy as ever but he was right.

Your boyfriend and you had a huge fight. It was so big that you left and went to Xavier’s who could hear it from his apartment. You apologized for the noise which he didn’t care about. Your wellbeing was what mattered most to him after all. He made you tea and waited to hear what the arguing was about. You explained he accused you of cheating on him which wasn’t true. Xavier knew this since you guys spent so much time together.

“What should I do?” You sigh sadly. Xavier blinked slowly as he gave you a once over.

“Leave him.” He bluntly said. No hesitation, no pauses, nothing.

“Xavier I can’t.” You groan falling into the couch as he takes the cup from you. He places it on the coffee table and then turns his attention back to you.

“Why not? He’s not a good person and has zero redeeming qualities. He chews with his mouth open, he burps obnoxiously loud—” He lists and if you hadn’t stopped him he would go on and on all night. You put your hand over his mouth and nod as you look at the ceiling.

“You’re absolutely right.” Leaving the conversation at that.

“Want me to kill him?” He mumbles looking at you. You swiftly turn your head to look at him with genuine concern. Maybe you heard him wrong.

“What?”

“What?” He repeats now looking at you confused.

I couldn’t wait to get to Zayne’s but imo his Caleb’s and Rafayel’s are the funniest 😭 I also forgot what I was gonna write mid Caleb’s because I left my mind palace (the shower).

Have this while I concoct Sylus’ bday special 💋

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language, mention of injury

heres chap 2 guysss !!! im tryna follow the ideas u guys gave me, so im not 100% sure if its exactly what yall had in mind, but im gonna slowly build it up from here 🤞🏽 hopefully there’s no mistakes and it all makes sense cause i wrote the last bit of this chapter and read through this half asleep 😭 anywaysss hope u guys enjoy 🫶🏽

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was still early, but the campus was already alive. The buzz of conversation, the shuffle of students walking to class, and the occasional skateboard rolling past made it feel like the world had hit play again. Paige stood by one of the low stone benches just outside the library, sunlight hitting her face while a gentle breeze played with the hem of her hoodie.

She was early, way too early, but she’d never admit she was nervous. Her phone was in her hand, thumbs scrolling through Instagram, even though she hadn’t really seen a single post. She kept checking her reflection in the dark screen anytime it dimmed. Hair was decent. Fit looked casual but intentional. Nothing screamed I’m trying, even though she absolutely was.

Calm down, she told herself for the twentieth time. It’s just tutoring. You need help. That’s all it is.

A group of students passed by laughing, and Paige looked up, spotting Caroline a few feet away walking with her coffee, headed her direction. She was with Aubrey, Ice, and KK all of them talking shit about something and laughing loudly. Paige already regretted her decision to come to this part of campus.

Caroline smirked the second she saw Paige. “So,” she said, greeting her with a little side hug. “You texted Azzi?”

Paige gave her a side-eye. “How do you already know that?”

“She told me last night,” Caroline said innocently, sipping her coffee.

Aubrey lit up. “Wait, wait, you messaged her? Already? Damn, that didn’t take long.”

KK raised her eyebrows. “What’s going on? Who’s Azzi?”

Caroline turned to her with a smile. “Azzi’s my best friend. She’s super smart. Paige needed help with some classes, so I suggested Azzi could tutor her.”

“And I said I was fine,” Paige muttered.

“And then you texted her anyway,” Aubrey said, grinning. “Knew you would. Couldn’t go under 24 hours without seeing her again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige said under her breath, adjusting her bag strap to have something to do with her hands.

Ice laughed. “Hold on, is this the same Azzi girl that Aubrey said had you all flustered yesterday?”

Aubrey nodded proudly. “Yup. Paige met her once and forgot how to talk.”

“I didn’t forget how to—geez, will you all chill?”

KK leaned in toward Ice. “Now I really wanna see what this girl looks like.”

“You might get your chance,” Caroline said casually, checking her watch. “She’s got class with me in a few minutes. She’s probably walking up now.”

And almost on cue, a voice called out from behind them.

“Hey, Caroline!”

The group turned and spotted Azzi walking up to the group of girls, backpack slung over one shoulder, her braids swaying slightly as she walked. The sunlight caught on her hoops, and Paige went completely still.

Azzi looked laid-back and composed, like she hadn’t just unknowingly walked into a firing squad of nosy basketball girls. She gave Caroline a warm smile before her eyes moved naturally to Paige and paused. Her smile lingered, just a bit softer now.

“Hey, Paige,” she added.

Paige nodded quickly. “Hey.”

They made eye contact, and it was enough to set off another wave of chaos in Paige’s chest. She was hoping no one would notice, but of course, the girls clocked it instantly.

Ice nudged KK and whispered, “Yeah, I get it now.”

KK nodded slowly. “Mhm. She’s got that calm, pretty energy. No wonder Paige’s out here acting like a freshman with a crush.”

“Shut up,” Paige hissed through gritted teeth, though her ears were turning red.

Azzi looked toward the two new faces in the group, a little curious but she does recognise them. Caroline jumped in. “Azzi, this is KK and Ice our teammates. KK, Ice, this is Azzi.”

Azzi offered a polite smile. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” KK said, still smirking. “Heard a lot about you.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

Aubrey was barely holding it together. “We didn’t even say anything yet,” she said, laughing. “But sure, Paige. We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Liar,” Paige muttered.

Azzi glanced at her, still smiling, and Paige felt the air shift again so subtle, but it was there. That unspoken thing sitting between them that no one was addressing. Paige quickly looked away before her teammates could start up again.

“Welp, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Caroline said to the group. “Azzi and I have class.”

“Later,” Aubrey called as Caroline and Azzi started walking away. Aubrey turned towards Paige with a smirk so evil Paige felt it in her bones.

Paige groaned. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

“Oh, I’m saying everything,” Aubrey said gleefully. “The way you just shut down when she looked at you? Paige Bueckers, the ultimate rizzler herself, turned into a puppy.”

Ice laughed. “And she didn’t even do anything. She just said hi”

“Fuck off,” Paige muttered, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad. Not really. Because yeah, Azzi hadn’t done anything. And yet here Paige was, heart racing from a single look.

—-----------------------

Azzi settled into her usual seat beside Caroline in the lecture hall, her notebook already open, though the pen in her hand wasn’t moving. The lecture hadn’t even properly started yet, but even if it had, she knew she wouldn’t be paying attention right away.

Her thoughts kept wandering.

Specifically, to the text she’d gotten the night before. From Paige.

She hadn’t expected to actually hear from her, not after how Paige had brushed off the idea of tutoring like it was unnecessary, even laughable.

Azzi had stared at the message for a solid minute before replying.

Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it.

“Earth to Az” Caroline murmured, nudging her gently with her elbow. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. Thinking about someone?”

Azzi blinked and turned toward her, caught but trying to play it cool. “No. I mean—sort of. Just… thinking.”

Caroline’s smirk said she wasn’t buying it. “Thinking about how Paige Bueckers finally caved and texted you for tutoring?”

Azzi let out a soft sigh and shook her head. “I told you last night. I was just surprised she actually did it. She looked so confident yesterday like she was going to fake it till finals.”

“Well, she is confident,” Caroline said, half-amused, half-approving. “But academics? Paige only pretends she doesn’t care. Inside, she’s stressing big time when she’s behind. Girl’s too proud to admit it most of the time.”

Azzi tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect her to be the kind to reach out. Especially to someone she barely knows.”

“She knows who you are,” Caroline said, shooting her a look. “You’re the quiet one who actually takes notes and doesn’t worship the ground she walks on. That probably intrigued her.”

Azzi gave her a look. “I don’t worship anyone. I just… don’t care about basketball or any other sports.”

“Exactly,” Caroline grinned, tapping her nails against the desk. “That makes you different. Refreshing, even.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, unsure how to take that. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think I’d actually be tutoring her. It feels weird.”

Caroline turned more fully toward her, her expression softening. “Weird because you don’t know her, or weird because she was lowkey flustered around you?”

“I don’t think it was anything like that,” Azzi said slowly, trying to sound firmer than she felt. “She was probably just nervous about needing help. That’s all.”

Caroline tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Sure. That’s all.”

Azzi sighed. “I don’t even know her. Like, I’ve heard of her, obviously, but we’ve never talked until yesterday. And it was barely even a conversation.”

“You don’t need to know her to notice when someone’s acting different around you,” Caroline said, her tone a little more knowing now. “I’ve seen Paige with a lot of people. She’s got this… guard. But with you? She was definitely off her game.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was starting to feel the flutter of nerves deep in her chest. “You’re reading into this too much. I’m just going to help her study, that’s it.”

Caroline shrugged. “Alright, fine. Just tutoring. But don’t act surprised if she tries to flirt in her weird, awkward way.”

Azzi snorted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Caroline teased with a wink.

Azzi leaned back, glancing up at the slowly-filling lecture hall. “I’m not trying to get involved in anything messy. I’ll help her study. That’s it. No weirdness, no distractions.”

Caroline raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not saying you like her. I’m just saying… keep your eyes open. Paige Bueckers may be all cool and untouchable to the rest of the world, but around you? Something’s shifting.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang between them as the professor started setting up slides at the front of the room.

She wasn’t crushing on Paige. She didn’t even really know her.

But there was something about the way Paige had looked at her outside, something a little tentative, a little unsteady, that stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Azzi shook herself out of it and looked down at her notebook again, forcing her mind to focus on the lecture.

Just tutoring. That was all this was.

Right?

—-----------------------

It was 10 minutes to 3, and Paige was sitting stiffly on one of the benches just outside the library steps, her jacket zipped all the way up despite the mild afternoon warmth. She kept pulling at the zipper down halfway, back up, then down again like it was a dial for her anxiety. Her foot bounced restlessly, her fingers twitching every few seconds to check her phone, even though it hadn’t buzzed.

Aubrey was fully stretched out beside her, taking up way more space than necessary like this was a casual trip to the beach instead of her best friend’s slow descent into chaos. One arm was draped over the back of the bench, the other cradling a half-empty iced coffee that had long since lost its chill. She watched Paige out of the corner of her eye with a grin that kept creeping up every time Paige adjusted something for the hundredth time.

“You know,” Aubrey drawled, lifting her cup to her lips, “if I had a dollar for every time you checked your reflection in your phone screen, I’d be rich enough to drop out and live off vibes alone.”

Paige didn’t even look at her. “I was fixing my hair.”

“That the same ‘fix’ you did 3 minutes ago? Or the one right after you dabbed your hoodie with water to flatten that invisible wrinkle?”

Paige groaned and let her head fall back against the bench. “Why are you even here?”

“Entertainment. I live for this.” Aubrey shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other. “Besides, watching you spiral over a girl you met yesterday is 10 times more fun than whatever I was gonna do with my afternoon.”

Paige turned her head slowly to give her the most deadpan look imaginable.

Aubrey beamed back. “Seriously though, you’re killing me. You’ve checked your lip balm, like, four times. What’s the difference between ‘subtle shimmer’ and ‘barely there glow’? They’re the same.”

“They are not the same,” Paige snapped, immediately regretting how fast she said it.

Aubrey’s laugh rang out loud enough to make a student walking by turn their head. “You hear yourself right now?”

Paige pulled the hood over her head and groaned into it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You just hate that I’m right.”

There was a moment of silence as Paige exhaled slowly, pulling the hood back off and sitting upright again. Her knee was bouncing now, the nerves nowhere near subtle.

“I just… I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes flicking toward the library entrance. “She’s really…”

Aubrey perked up. “She’s really what?”

Paige shook her head quickly. “Forget it.”

“Nooo, no, no. Don’t back out now. Say it. I need this.”

Paige sighed and looked out across the quad like the grass was gonna give her strength. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “She’s really pretty.”

Aubrey clutched her chest like she’d been waiting her whole life to hear it. “There it is!”

Paige frowned, eyes still ahead. “And seems smart. Like, scary smart. But not in a loud way. In a ‘makes you feel dumb without even trying’ kind of way.”

Aubrey raised her brows, clearly loving this. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, folding her arms.

“I’m just observing. You’ve had a crush for a solid twenty-four hours and you’re acting like it’s prom night.”

“She’s tutoring me. That’s it.”

“Mhmmmm. You mean she’s ‘tutoring you’ and you’re ‘definitely not falling apart at the seams’ while trying to remember what two plus two is when she looks at you?”

Paige glared. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re in denial.”

“I’m gonna throw your coffee across the quad.”

“I’ll buy another one. Worth it.”

Paige groaned again, running her hand through her hair. “God, what am I even doing? I’m acting like a middle schooler.”

“You’re acting like a college student with a gay panic problem,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “It’s fine. It’s cute. Just maybe stop adjusting your jacket every time someone walks by or they’re gonna think you’re shoplifting nerves.”

Paige looked down at herself and huffed, trying to smooth it down one more time before stopping mid-motion, catching herself. “Damn it.”

“See?” Aubrey grinned, nudging her. “You’re spiraling. It’s kinda adorable.”

Right then, Paige’s phone buzzed. She yanked it out like it was on fire.

2:57pm

Her breath hitched. She shot a glance at the entrance.

A flash of dark curls pulled into a ponytail appeared just inside the glass doors of the library.

“Oh shit,” Paige whispered, standing up too fast. She quickly brushed invisible dust off her sweatpants, glanced down at her sneakers, frowned at a smudge, then looked back up.

Aubrey watched with a lazy smirk. “You good?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Paige muttered. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to fail basic math but win the gold in gay panic.”

“Okay, seriously. Stop talking.”

“I’m done,” Aubrey said, hands up in mock surrender. “Go learn some equations and maybe flirt like a human person while you’re at it.”

Paige took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her pants, then started walking toward the library steps.

Aubrey called out one last time, “And maybe try not to stare at her!”

Paige didn’t even turn around. She just lifted her hand behind her and gave Aubrey the finger as she reached the door.

Her heart was pounding. Her palms were a little clammy. But she was walking.

Paige let out one last breath.

The second Paige stepped through the library doors, it felt like her shoes were too loud. Like every step echoed through the entire building even though the carpet was doing its best to muffle them. She tugged her hoodie sleeve down over her palm, eyes sweeping over the rows of tables until she found her.

Azzi was near the far corner, by the window. The sunlight filtered through the glass, catching the edge of her curls and lighting up the gold tones like some kinda magic effect from a movie. She had a pencil in hand, lightly tapping the eraser against the page, her other hand flipping through a worn notebook covered in neat little tabs. She looked focused. Comfortable.

Paige was very much neither of those things.

She hovered for a second, literally just stood there, trying to remember how walking worked before finally forcing her legs to move. Her palms were sweaty again. Her backpack felt too heavy. She hoped her hair wasn’t doing anything weird.

Azzi looked up right as Paige reached the table. “Hey,” she said, a casual, soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Paige’s brain glitched for a second. “Hey,” she said, and it came out a little too fast.

Azzi closed the notebook and motioned to the chair across from her. “You’re on time.”

“I’m always on time,” Paige said, slipping into the seat like her limbs were made of static. She regretted the joke immediately. “I mean, usually. Sometimes. Not like always always, but—”

Azzi raised a brow, amused. “You’re good. I’m just saying I expected a minute or two buffer.”

Paige laughed nervously and tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie again. “Yeah, no. I was already out here. Early. Just, you know… prepping.”

Azzi gave her a look like she was trying not to smile. “Prepping to be tutored?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath and opened a different notebook, one already half-filled with notes. “Ok. So I looked over the syllabus and the last few slides from class. Want to start with the stuff from earlier in the week?”

“Please,” Paige said, dragging out the word like it physically pained her. “That whole section might as well have been written in some foreign language.”

“Alright,” Azzi said, flipping to the page. “We’re still on systems of equations and matrix transformations. Did you get the basics?”

Paige hesitated. “Define basics.”

Azzi didn’t even blink. “Like… what a matrix is?”

“…Is that the Keanu Reeves one or the number box one?”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s start with the number box one.”

She turned the notebook around and slid it across the table so Paige could see. Her handwriting was crazy clean. Paige immediately noticed how she circled everything in soft, pastel highlighters—blue for definitions, pink for formulas, green for notes. It was weirdly calming to look at.

“So this,” Azzi said, tapping the first example, “is a 2x2 matrix. Two rows, two columns. Easy enough?”

Paige leaned in a little, squinting at the page like it might bite her. “Yeah. I think I remember this part.”

Azzi looked up. “You’re allowed to say you don’t. No judgment.”

“I mean, I kind of remember it. It’s more like it shows up and I recognize the face, but I don’t remember the name.”

Azzi laughed again, light and genuine. “Alright, we’ll reintroduce you.”

She walked Paige through the basics, what each position meant, how they worked when you multiplied them, the reason why flipping them could screw everything up. Paige nodded, trying to focus on the numbers, the shapes, anything that wasn’t Azzi’s voice being low and patient or the way her curls bounced when she looked down to write something.

At some point, Azzi switched to a blank page and turned the notebook so Paige could try a problem herself. She watched closely as Paige worked through it slowly, brow furrowed, tongue slightly poking out the corner of her mouth.

“You’re overthinking it,” Azzi said, voice soft. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Paige huffed and leaned back, pencil pressed between her palms. “One step at a time is how I ended up failing that quiz.”

“True,” Azzi said, grinning. “But now you’ve got me. Upgrades.”

That earned a real smile out of Paige. “Yeah. This is definitely better.”

Azzi looked at her for a second, then tapped the page. “You’re actually not far off. You just missed one sign. Wanna try again?”

Paige nodded, gaze flicking back down to the numbers.

She could do this.

Well… she could try.

And maybe, just maybe if she didn’t totally embarrass herself, there’d be more study sessions like this. Not that she was hoping for anything.

—-----------------------

The soft hum of the library was like a low lullaby, comforting in its quiet, yet full of the sort of focused energy only a place of learning could have. Books, notebooks, and pens were strewn across the table between them, yet all Paige could focus on was Azzi.

Azzi was reading the textbook aloud softly, walking her through another set of equations. Her voice was calm, steady, yet there was an underlying intensity in the way she spoke, like she genuinely wanted Paige to understand. Every now and then, Azzi would pause and ask if Paige was following, looking at her over the top of her glasses, and Paige would just nod though most of the time, her attention wasn’t entirely on the lesson.

She caught herself again, staring. Azzi’s hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face, and those glasses—those damn glasses. Paige had to fight the urge to look away every time Azzi adjusted them, because the way they sat on her face, giving her an effortlessly smart, put-together look, made Paige’s stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t quite figured out.

Azzi wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. She was just sitting there, leaning over the textbook, completely engrossed in helping Paige. Her calm demeanor was almost too much for Paige to handle sometimes like the sort of quiet confidence that was magnetic.

She caught herself again, looking at Azzi’s profile as she read. The way her lips moved as she pronounced the words, her fingers subtly tapping on the page as she went through the steps in the problem.

“Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice snapping Paige out of her daze. “You still with me?”

Paige blinked and tried to clear the fog in her head. “Yeah, sorry,” she said, focusing on the math in front of her. She quickly scribbled a few numbers down, even though she was far more focused on the way Azzi was looking at her now, brows furrowed in concern.

“I said we can move on to the next problem if you’re ready,” Azzi added, voice softer now.

“Yeah, I think I got this one,” Paige lied, her words more rushed than she intended. She was trying her best to concentrate, but the math seemed to fade into the background as she found herself distracted by the soft rhythm of Azzi’s voice and the quiet rustling of pages. The way Azzi’s fingers traced the lines of the book as she found the right spot. The way her eyes would flicker from the textbook to Paige every few seconds to check in on her, making sure she was following along. It was like everything Azzi did was just too perfect, too natural, and it made Paige feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Do you want me to slow down? I know this part can be tricky,” Azzi offered, her eyes searching Paige’s face for any sign of confusion.

But the truth was, Paige wasn’t confused about the math at all, she was distracted by Azzi’s presence, her calmness, the way her voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She gave a small shake of her head. “No, I’m good,” she said, though her voice came out quieter than she intended.

Azzi nodded, returning her attention to the problem at hand. She explained the next step slowly and clearly, but Paige’s mind wasn’t really processing it. Instead, she was watching the way Azzi’s lips moved as she spoke, the way her fingers tapped the paper, the way her glasses slightly slid down her nose as she read the equations. Paige couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool Azzi seemed. She looked so unbothered, so calm in her own skin, and it was something Paige both envied and admired.

The longer they sat there, the more the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken things. Paige could almost feel the weight of the silence, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a way that made her want to lean forward, ask Azzi about her life, about everything that made her the person she was. And yet, every time she tried to get her words together, her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind.

“Paige, are you sure you’re following?” Azzi asked again, this time with a small frown forming between her brows. She wasn’t accusing or frustrated; just genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige quickly said, shaking her head as if to clear the distraction. She forced herself to focus, finally pulling her eyes from Azzi’s face and onto the equation in front of her. “I think I get it now. Thanks for being patient.”

Azzi smiled softly. “No problem. You’re doing great, really. You just need to take a breath every now and then. You’re trying too hard.”

Paige bit her lip, trying to suppress the chuckle that almost slipped out. “Trying too hard?” she repeated, her voice teasing. “I’m not trying hard enough for this?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, maybe you should try a little harder. You’re already getting the hang of it.”

Paige felt a little flame of pride in her chest at Azzi’s praise, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being drawn to the way Azzi sat there, calm and composed, like she had everything under control. And Paige was… well, a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

She forced herself to focus back on the book, willing her mind to follow the equations instead of her thoughts, but it was getting harder with each passing second. She glanced back at Azzi, who was quietly writing out steps on the page. Azzi’s head was tilted slightly, a sign of concentration. And it hit Paige then how deeply she was starting to care for this girl. How much more than just math sessions she was starting to crave.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” Paige said finally, trying to focus back in, her voice steadying now.

Azzi looked up and nodded, smiling again. “Good. See? You’re getting it.” She paused, and for a moment, Paige thought she saw a flicker of something in Azzi’s eyes—something warm and unspoken. But then it was gone, hidden behind the coolness of her usual composure.

Paige nodded, forcing her eyes to stay on the page, though her thoughts felt like they were running a mile a minute.

“Alright, let’s take a short break before we do the next one,” Azzi suggested. “You’ve been at this for a while now.”

Paige didn’t protest. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and let herself relax for a moment, her gaze slipping to Azzi again, just long enough to catch her watching her with that same quiet focus. That same soft intensity that made Paige’s heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to.

Paige didn’t mean to do it—didn’t mean to let the curiosity slip out, but the words came before she could stop them.

“So, uh, what made you agree to tutor me?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual, as if she was treading into unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but something about Azzi seemed different. Quiet. Like there was so much more beneath the surface.

Azzi paused, her hand hovering over her bag, and then looked up at Paige. For a brief moment, there was that same familiar flicker of something behind her calm demeanor, but Azzi quickly masked it with her usual composed smile.

“I dunno,” Azzi said after a beat, voice casual, “You seemed like you needed help. And I guess I’m a sucker for helping people out, especially if they’re willing to put in the work. You seem like you actually care about getting it right.”

Paige nodded, appreciating the honesty in Azzi’s voice. “I do. I just… get distracted sometimes.” She chuckled softly, but the sound felt more nervous than anything.

Azzi smiled again, a little warmer this time. “Yeah, I noticed.” She shrugged slightly, picking up her notebook and tucking it into her bag. “I like helping people. I used to tutor a lot when I was in high school. It just feels good, you know?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What else? You seem like you’ve got other stuff going on. What do you do for fun when you’re not helping people like me?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, clearly considering whether to answer. Paige almost regretted asking, but then Azzi sighed, almost reluctantly.

“Well, it’s a bit of a random fact, but I used to play basketball. Like, competitively.” Azzi glanced up at Paige, her eyes not quite meeting hers. She continued quietly, “I stopped playing a few years ago. Tore my ACL in a game, but that’s not the reason I quit. I just… lost the love for it, I guess.”

Paige blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that. Azzi, with her calm confidence, so different from the athletes Paige was used to, didn't seem like the type who would’ve played a sport like basketball. “You played? For how long?”

Azzi shrugged, her fingers tapping against the desk idly. “Since I was a kid. But by the time I hit high school, I wasn’t really feeling it anymore. It wasn’t about the injury. I could’ve come back after the rehab. But after a while, I just realized it wasn’t my thing anymore.” She paused for a moment, eyes flickering to Paige, then away again. “I guess I was just… over it.”

Paige couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her lips. She knew how much basketball meant to her. The idea of walking away from it, losing that love—she couldn’t imagine it. “So, what did you end up doing after that?”

Azzi gave a small smile, almost wistful. “I got more into school. Focused on things I could control, you know? It’s where I found my rhythm again.”

It was almost like she was shutting that chapter down, not wanting to revisit it. But Paige didn’t press further. It was clear that basketball, once a major part of Azzi’s life, had faded into something she didn’t want to talk about too much.

“Sounds like you figured things out,” Paige said softly, leaning back in her chair, watching Azzi carefully. “I respect that.”

Azzi finally met Paige’s gaze, her expression softening a little. “Yeah, well… I guess everyone finds their own way eventually.” She gave a slight shrug, as if brushing the conversation aside, before turning her focus back to the textbook in front of them. “We should get back to it. I think we’re almost done with this chapter.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, a thousand questions swirling in her head, but she could tell Azzi wasn’t quite ready to share more. And for now, Paige was okay with that. She’d already learned something important—that Azzi was much more than the quiet, composed classmate/tutor sitting across from her. There was depth to her, layers that Paige would have to be patient to peel back.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Paige finally said, refocusing on the math in front of her. “Let’s finish this up.”

As Azzi started explaining the next set of equations, Paige felt a little more settled. They were getting somewhere, and for the first time, Paige wasn’t just focused on the math in front of her. She was focused on Azzi, her presence, the way she spoke, the little things she hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just about the lesson anymore. It was about being with Azzi, understanding her in ways that went far beyond equations and textbooks.

—-----------------------

They finished the last practice question with a shared sigh of relief. Azzi leaned over, checking Paige’s final answer with a quick glance, then nodded in approval.

“Yep. You got it.”

Paige blinked down at the scribbled page. “Wait… I did?”

Azzi chuckled, a genuine laugh that made Paige’s chest feel weirdly warm. “You’re improving. You just need to stop second-guessing yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” Paige muttered, setting her pencil down and rubbing at her temple. “But I’ll take the dub.”

Azzi started to neatly organize  everything back into her bag. “I think that’s enough math for one day.”

“Agreed,” Paige said, stretching again. “My brain’s officially fried.”

Just as she grabbed her water bottle and leaned back in her chair, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the library.

“Yo, Azzi.”

Paige looked up and instantly regretted it.

Strutting toward them like he owned the place was Jace McCallister—tight end on the UConn football team, cocky smirk permanently etched on his face, confidence dripping off him like cologne. Paige knew him. Everyone did. He was loud, flashy, and flirted like it was a full-time job. The kind of guy who wore his jersey to class and thought everyone should thank him for showing up.

Azzi glanced up, face unreadable. “Hey.”

Jace leaned casually against the edge of their table, not even glancing at Paige. “Just wondering when our next session is? You free this week?”

Paige’s brows knit. Our session?

Azzi nodded politely, unfazed. “Yeah, I think tomorrow. Same time?”

“Perfect.” He flashed her a grin. “Can’t say no to learning from the smartest girl on campus.”

Azzi’s lips pulled into a tight, polite smile. “Well thank you.”

Jace chuckled and finally glanced at Paige, as if just noticing her. “Oh. Hey, Bueckers.”

“McCallister,” Paige replied, voice flat.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a tutor too.”

“She doesn’t,” Azzi cut in smoothly before Paige could answer, her tone calm but firm. “We’re just going over some extra stuff.”

Paige didn’t say anything. She just watched the exchange, something unsettled building in her chest. She knew Jace. Knew his reputation. And the way he was looking at Azzi now, like she was the next thing to win over, made her stomach twist.

She shouldn’t care. It was just tutoring.

But still.

Jace winked, then tapped the table. “Catch you later, Azzi.” He turned and walked off, not a single ounce of subtlety in his swagger.

Paige stared after him, jaw tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi looked over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paige said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… don’t like that guy.”

Azzi tilted her head, curious. “Why not?”

“He’s a walking ego,” Paige said, grabbing her stuff. “And he’s a player. Like, in every sense of the word. He’s not exactly subtle about who he hits on.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. Just zipped her bag and stood up. “He’s harmless.”

“Sure,” Paige muttered, a little sharper than she meant to. “Just be careful, okay?”

Azzi blinked, surprised at the tone. Paige ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Sorry. That came out weird. Just forget it.”

Azzi gave her a long look, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence toward the library exit, Paige internally screaming at herself. ‘It’s not that deep. She’s not yours. You’re literally just studying.’ But no matter how many times she told herself that, her clenched jaw said otherwise.

As they stepped out into the afternoon sun, a small group of girls standing near the library steps caught sight of them—specifically Paige.

“Oh my god, that’s Paige Bueckers,” one of them whispered, eyes wide.

Before she could even react, one of them stepped forward, all smiles and nervous energy. “Hi! Sorry, we don’t wanna bother you, but could we maybe get a picture? We’re huge fans.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard but immediately smiled.

“Of course,” she said, already stepping toward them, voice warm and friendly. “What’s your name?”

One of them nearly melted. “I’m Sam. This is Ava and Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Paige said, handing her phone to one of them after snapping a few selfies together. “You guys coming to the game on friday?”

“Yeah! We can’t wait! Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Paige said sincerely. “I’ll try to put on a show for y’all.”

They grinned, waved, and scurried off giggling, still whispering to each other as they walked away.

Azzi stood a few feet back, arms loosely crossed. Watching.

Paige turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Azzi shook her head slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t expect what?”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You being… like that. With people.”

Paige tilted her head. “Like what?”

Azzi gave her a soft shrug. “I guess I thought you’d be more… I dunno. Big-time athlete energy. Standoffish. You’re not.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, amused. “So you thought I’d be a bitch?”

Azzi smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

Azzi’s smile widened just slightly. “Maybe. A little.”

Paige laughed. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on her, more thoughtful now. “You surprise me. In a good way.”

And Paige couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as they started walking again, side by side.

They walked in silence again for a bit, the quiet not uncomfortable—just filled with a weird hum Paige couldn’t place. It clung to her like static, buzzing beneath her skin every time she glanced over and saw Azzi walking next to her, face calm, unreadable as always.

When they reached the small fork in the path outside the library, Azzi finally slowed to a stop.

“This is me,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

Paige stopped too, a little slower. “Right. Yeah.”

Azzi looked up at her. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

Paige snorted. “I mean… there were a few moments where I considered setting my notebook on fire.”

Azzi smiled. “But you didn’t.”

“Thanks to you.”

There was a beat of quiet. Paige swallowed and scratched at the back of her neck. “So… when do you wanna do this again?”

Azzi tilted her head, thinking. “I’m free Thursday evening. If that works?”

Paige nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Azzi gave her a small nod. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

“Cool,” Paige said, trying not to sound weird. “Coolcoolcool.”

Azzi’s brows lifted just slightly. Paige looked down at the ground, internally facepalming.

Azzi smiled again, more to herself this time. “You’re kind of strange.”

Paige looked up. “Rude.”

Azzi started walking backwards slowly, smirking. “But I mean that in a good way.”

Paige watched her go, lips twitching. “Sure you do.”

Azzi turned around and gave a small wave over her shoulder. “Later, Paige.”

Paige stood there for a second too long after she was gone, staring at nothing in particular. Then she finally exhaled, rubbed her hands over her face, and mumbled under her breath.

“Fuck.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[malsmind]

bsf!reader 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 vampire!chris 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦

🕸 - content warnings: ★ chris losing his temper ★ small lacrosse fight ★ slight yelling ★ smut ★ unprotected sex ★ angry, rough sex ★ slapping ★ crying ★ dirty talk ★ praising ★ hair pulling ★ creampie ★ aftercare ★

lacrosse games were usually smooth for chris.

even if a ref made a bad call, or someone got a little too aggressive, he had his ways of staying locked in—dialed into the rhythm, the strategy, the adrenaline. it was good for him. all that pent-up energy, all that heat that came with being what he was… it needed an outlet. lacrosse gave him one. but tonight wasn’t smooth. not even close.

the guy on his team had been playing like he had no idea what sport he was in—sloppy passes, missed shots, and no defense whatsoever. and when chris tried to point it out, he was met with attitude. twice.

so he shoved him. hard. right there on the field. the ref blew the whistle. the coach stormed over. and chris, already vibrating with the need to keep it together, couldn’t even find the words to explain before it all snapped.

“why the hell did you shove your own teammate?” his coach demanded.

“because he’s playing like an idiot!” chris snapped back. “and maybe if you coached instead of standing there yelling every five seconds—”

“watch it, kid.”

“nah. you watch it,” chris growled, already walking off the field. “i’m done.”

he didn’t wait for a response. he didn’t need to hear the usual crap about discipline or teamwork. he tossed his helmet to the bench and stormed toward the locker rooms, not stopping once. not even when the backup got thrown in to replace him. you were already following. you didn’t need to say anything—just the look on his face when he passed by said it all. when you walked into the locker room, it was quiet except for the echo of his cleats against the tile. he was pacing, hands still in his gloves, jaw tight enough to crack bone.

“chris,” you said softly, cautiously.

he didn’t stop moving. “don’t. not right now.”

“you shoved your own teammate.”

he stopped then. turned toward you slowly, frustration flickering behind his eyes.

“you think i don’t know that?”

“then maybe don’t act like you’re not in the wrong?”

you weren’t trying to push. you were trying to pull him back. ground him. but both of you were short-tempered. stubborn. it was a miracle you ever got along at all.

“he was gonna get someone hurt,” chris snapped. “i told him twice to stop cutting across—”

“and your response is to shove him and curse out your coach infront of the whole town?” you crossed your arms. “real good job.”

he laughed bitterly, backing toward the lockers and yanking his gloves off, throwing them on the bench.

“you think it’s that easy to stay calm when everything’s already—” he cut himself off, flexing his fingers like his hands itched to break something. “you don’t know what it feels like when it’s this close to slipping out.”

you softened a little at that. stepped closer. “then let me help you calm down.”

“i just need a second,” he muttered. “just… a second to forget the bullshit.”

and then he looked at you—really looked at you. and something inside him snapped in a different way. before you could say another word, he grabbed you and pushed you gently—but firmly—against the cool metal of the lockers, his mouth crashing into yours like a match to gasoline. you gasped, your fingers instantly curling into his jersey as his lips moved over yours—hot, rough, desperate. like he needed to feel something else and this was the only way.

his hands were already tugging at his gear, peeling the jersey over his head and letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. your own breath stuttered as his mouth moved to your jaw, down to your neck, kissing you like he was trying to chase the anger out of his body and into you. you weren’t sure when your stubbornness melted, but your body was already responding, back arching into him, your hands buried in his messy hair. he pressed himself closer, his palms sliding down your sides, gripping your hips like he didn’t want to let go. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, breathing hard, lips brushing against your skin.

“you’re the only thing keeping me sane right now,” he muttered.

you swallowed hard, heart racing. “then don’t stop.”

he looked up at you again, eyes wild and full of something hot and dangerous, but so focused on you. and suddenly, even in the aftermath of his rage, all you felt was how much he needed you. not just like this, but always.

chris’s hands are everywhere at once—rough, demanding, but never crossing that line. his lips left burning trails down your neck as he yanked your shirt over your head, the fabric catching slightly before he tossed it aside. his teeth graze your collarbone, a sharp contrast to the way his palms slide up your ribs, thumbs brushing the sides of your breasts like an apology for the bite (luckily he could keep himself calm enough to not let his fangs out). you gasp, fingers scrambling at the waistband of his shorts, but he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head against the locker with one hand.

his breath is hot against your ear. “stay there.”

it’s not a request.

you shiver, the cold metal seeping into your back as he steps away just long enough to strip off the rest of his gear. his chest heaves, sweat glistening under the fluorescent lights, muscles coiled like he’s still mid-game. when he returns, he doesn’t kiss you—he devours you. his tongue slides against yours, all heat and hunger, while his free hand grips your thigh, hitching your leg around his hip. the hard line of his cock presses against you through his shorts, and you whine, arching into him.

he groans, low and gritty. “fuck, you feel that? this is what you do to me. every. damn. time.”

his hand slips between you, fingers dragging your underwear aside. you’re already wet, and he smirks against your mouth, circling your clit once, twice, just to hear you choke on his name.

“knew it,” he breathes. “knew you’d be so needy f'me.” his fingers plunge into you without warning, curling in a way that makes your knees buckle.

you sag against the lockers, but he holds you up, his forearm braced under your thigh now, pushing it higher. “look at you—taking it so good. fuck, you’re perfect.”

his praise is rough-edged, voice shredded by frustration and want. he adds a third finger, stretching you, and you cry out, nails scraping the locker. “chris—please—”

“please what?” he nips your earlobe, fingers pumping faster. “use your words, sweetheart.”

“i need—you—”

he growls, withdrawing his hand so abruptly you nearly sob. in one fluid motion, he tears your underwear off and shoves his own shorts down, his cock springing free, thick and just as needy for you. he doesn’t give you time to think, just lines himself up and slams into you, the force knocking the air from your lungs. you moan loudly, the sound echoing off the tiles, but he swallows it with another kiss, messy and possessive.

“mine,” he rasps against your lips. “this pussy’s mine.”

his thrusts are relentless, each one punching a moan from your throat. one hand stays pinned above your head, the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise, pulling you onto him with every snap of his pelvis. when you clench around him, he hisses, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“sh—shit—you gonna come already? that it?” his teeth carefully sink into your shoulder, not enough to break skin, but enough to make you jerk. “do it. come on my cock baby.”

you shatter, vision whiting out as your orgasm rips through you. he doesn’t slow, fucking you through it, his own rhythm stuttering.

“that’s it—fuck—take it, take me—” his hand releases your wrists to fist in your hair, yanking your head back. the sting makes you gasp, but the fire in his eyes silences any protest. “look at me. wanna see your pretty face when i fill you up.”

you whimper, overstimulated but starving for more, and he lets go of your hair to slap your ass—hard. you jolt forward, crying out as he hits a new depth. “chris—!”

“gooood girlll,” he grinds out, delivering another slap, the burn blooming under his palm. “doin' so good f'me. love how i fuck you like this—rough—huh?” his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing harsh circles. “c'mon, tell me.”

“yes—yes—”

“louder.”

“i love it—love you—”

he stills, chest heaving, pupils blown. for a heartbeat, the anger in his face fractures, something vulnerable flickering beneath. then he’s kissing you again, slower, deeper, as his hips roll into yours, each thrust dragging against that sweet spot until you’re climbing again.

“gonna come inside you,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “that okay?”

you nod frantically, and his groan is almost pained.

“fuck—fuck—” he buries himself to the hilt, spilling hot and thick, his release triggering your second orgasm. you sob, tears spilling over as pleasure crashes into you, wave after wave, until you’re boneless against the lockers.

he holds you up, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping. the locker room was quiet now. too quiet, almost. you were still pressed into chris’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around his neck, your legs a little weak where one of them was wrapped around his waist, and both of you still catching your breath. the haze of it—what just happened—still lingered in the air between you. he hadn’t said much right after. hadn’t needed to. his arms had stayed around you, holding you close, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin, your pulse against his. but eventually, he pulled back, just enough to look at you. his eyes flicked over your face, a crease forming between his brows.

“shit,” he whispered, almost to himself. “was that too much?”

you blinked at him, lips parted. “what?”

his hands—those same hands that had just been gripping you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth—now slid up to cradle your face. soft. careful.

“i got carried away,” he said, brows still furrowed. “i shouldn’t’ve—i mean, you’re still getting used to all this sex shit—and i just—fuck, i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

your heart cracked a little at the worry in his voice.

“chris,” you said gently, resting your forehead against his. “i’m okay.”

he kissed your cheek. then your nose. your temple. then your lips. almost as if he was apologizing with small kisses.

“you sure?” he asked again, voice lower this time. softer. “you were just letting me… be all over you like that, and i didn’t even stop to think about if it was too much. i feel like an asshole..”

you smiled a little, brushing his sweaty hair back with your fingers.

“you're perfectly okay, crhis,” you whispered. “i love you. and i want all of you. even when it’s rough. especially when it’s real.”

his breath hitched, and his lips were back on your skin again, kissing your jaw, your cheekbones, the corner of your mouth, almost like he was trying to say sorry with every single one. he held you like you were breakable now. like he was making up for every hard touch with a hundred gentle ones.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reminded him. “i can handle you.”

he let out a short laugh against your skin. “yeah. i know. you’re stubborn as hell.”

“takes one to know one,” you teased, and he finally cracked a real smile.

after another beat, he pulled you into a proper hug—your arms wrapped around each other, his chin resting on top of your head.

“wanna get out of here?” he asked after a long pause. “we can get wing stop. eat like trash. watch some dumb movie on the couch until you fall asleep on me.”

you leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. “that your version of aftercare?”

he grinned. “that, and carrying you to bed after you pass out halfway through the movie. with like, eight blankets.”

“sounds perfect.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and with one last kiss to your forehead, he helped you away from the locker, gently gathering your clothes with a tenderness that didn’t need explaining. whatever happened back there, whatever heat and anger and need boiled over, it didn’t scare you. because this—him—was home. even when he was a mess. even when he broke a little. he was still yours. and you were still his.

always.

♱ - @kittybitch @tits4matt @bgfshai @just-a-girl-1 @phonysuperstarr @sweetshuga @aflairforthedramattic @chrisbratt333 @courta13 @h3arts4nat @rizzgod12 @slvtf0rchr1s @whore4chris @urlocallera @il0vey0um0st @slvtf0rchr1s @chrispycremedonut @oopsiedaisydeer @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @dummyslut00 @chrissfavhoe @sturnsflirt @hello-emma @abbystromboli @y3sterdaysproblem @mi-co-uk @loser41ifee @emillionaireee @corpsebridedelrey @sturniolosssworld @certified-sturniolo @bluessturniolo @mattswifeyy @matts-wife @cass-sturn @tezzzzzzzz @ariasautumn @auttysturnz @mx7ka @backwardshatnick @applecidersturniolo @sturnsrecord

[lightseoul]

TWENTY-SIX (4.3k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. your boyfriend's spending his birthday oceans away from you, and there's absolutely little you can do to celebrate his special day...right?

c.w. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up, post-ch 431: more, established relationship, lots of cussing AND banter, explicit themes (which i will not describe in great detail for the element of surprise, but know that it's explicit), a little present for my fluff/smut girlies out there <3 (also me)

a/n. happy birthday to the (fictional. sobs) man of my dreams <3 i wanted to whip something special up for his birthday this year, especially since i started writing more seriously last september. since then, i've made so many friends on here primarily over our shared love for katsuki, and it's just been a blast (pun intended). this one kind of got away from me—this was just supposed to be a short drabble, but it ended up the way it did. still, i think it's a great read (if i say so myself), so i hope you enjoy this. once again, happy birthday, kats <3

“and then they fucking—told the waiter that it was my birthday.”

“no.”

bakugou sneers, his grimace just slightly distorted—a digital mosaic of rose-colored pixels. “it was fucking embarrassing.”

you try to imagine the picture of your boyfriend sitting awkwardly as the foreign restaurant’s staffers sang him a happy birthday, and you have to tamp down the smile that’s fighting to encroach on your lips.

“let me guess,” you quip—just loud enough for him to hear you over your phone’s built-in microphone, “it was denki’s idea.”

that grants you an eye roll, which is so animated, it doesn’t even matter that the hotel’s internet connection is so crappy, bakugou’s face morphs into an indistinguishable blob every two minutes or so.

“don’t remind me,” he retorts, “for dunce face’s sake.”

“or what?” you laugh, “are you gonna give him a good ol’ spanking?”

“fuck, no. for all i know, he’s probably getting spanked by ears as we speak.”

from a few feet away from you, a sudden sound akin to that of someone choking on their spit resonates, and you barely catch yourself from reflexively shooting a glare in that very direction. instead, you keep your gaze trained on your screen and on the ash-blonde who’s lying on his stomach with a pillow propped up underneath him, trying not to let the panic show on your face.

you’ve come this far, the last thing you need is for denki to—

“what was that?”

despite yourself, you stiffen. “what was what?”

“that sound,” bakugou points out, straightening up himself. “wait, where did you say you were again?”

“ochako’s,” you lie. she was one of your only friends whose apartment’s walls were almost the same color as the hotel bakugou’s currently staying in. and denki. and jirou.

the very same hotel you’re—

“that sounded like a guy, though,” comes bakugou’s cautious response, and it takes you a second to realize how the situation is looking like to him.

“izuku’s here as well,” you quickly supply, wishing to any divine being out there that he doesn’t ask you to point your camera at either of the couple.

thankfully, he doesn’t. what he does, instead, is furrow his eyebrows in equal parts confusion and disgust.

“they’re listening to our conversation?”

“chill, bro,” you force yourself to chuckle, “we just finished eating as well. we’re all just hanging out in the living room.”

now, if bakugou’s catching on to your deception, he doesn’t show it.

at least, by much.

“huh…”

“…yep.”

another scrutinizing squint. “and you’re sitting on round cheek’s floor because…?”

shit. right.

“i’m just charging my phone,” you fib, and before bakugou can get another word in and catch you in your deceit, you pipe up again.

“actually, it’s getting late, kats. i think i’m gonna head home.”

“but—”

“i’ll message you the plate number, don’t worry.”

at that, bakugou huffs, and you have to swat away the guilt that washes over you at the sight of his disappointment—disappointment that’s palpable despite his obvious attempt at eclipsing it with his worry for your safety.

he doesn’t say anything for another beat, and you take that as your cue to unplug your imaginary charger and lift yourself to your feet.

“well, i should get going,” you announce, just as he blurts something out that you fail to catch.

“…sorry,” you laugh—genuinely this time, “what did you say?”

“just—” he starts, voice lowered into a hushed whisper, suddenly appearing shy. “can we—i don’t know—call again when you get home?”

you hesitate, then remember that if things work out the way you planned them, you wouldn’t have to worry about the idea of it. still, you keep up the concerned act. “sure, kats, but don’t you have an early start tomorrow?”

“yeah,” he replies, “but another thirty minutes or so wouldn’t hurt.”

you can’t help it—you smile at that. bakugou seems to flush at the sight of you grinning knowingly, bringing up a scarred hand to rub at his face—a habit you’ve noticed he does whenever he feels embarrassed.

and, because you know telling him you miss him too would only fuel his embarrassment even further, you instead bite your tongue and wish him another happy birthday, but not before promising him you’d call as soon as you’re in bed and settled in your pajamas.

you wait for the tell-tale chime of a video call ending to go off before you dare to heave a sigh of relief.

the clamoring ensues in an instant.

“who knew bakugou was such a lover boy?”

from where she’s lounging on her suite’s expansive sofa, jirou flashes you a teasing smirk.

“excuse me,” denki exclaims from the queen-sized bed, “are we just going to breeze past the way he insulted me?”

you’ve got half a mind to comment on how you’d bet good money he’s already been pegged by the hearing hero, but decide against it—you still needed both of their help, after all. so instead, you bite your tongue, and gesture to the refrigerator.

“we don’t have much time, so we better get moving.”

“right.”

“o-kay.”

fortunately, it doesn’t take you a while to get things ready. denki manages to get the balloons inflated in record time, while jirou’s got the cake and champagne all set as you got changed into a much more flattering dress and touched up on your makeup. by the time you’re supposed to have arrived at your apartment unit way back in japan, the three of you are standing by the entrance of the musician’s hotel room, birthday paraphernalia placed in a fancy-looking cart you borrowed from reception, the air around you buzzing with nervous anticipation.

you check your watch for the umpteenth time, before looking back up to the two. “are you sure you guys don’t want to surprise him with me?”

jirou shakes her head. “nah, we already celebrated with him during dinner. we ought to give you guys some privacy to celebrate on your own.”

“yeah,” denki adds, “plus, i don’t want to be there in case things get nasty real fast.”

“denki!”

“dude!”

“what?” the electric hero cries, “kacchan can make sex jokes while i can’t?”

“you need to work on your timing, dipshit,” comes jirou’s reprimand, to which denki only pouts petulantly.

“well, i should get going,” you begin, reaching out to open the door. “he should be waiting for me to call by now.”

the two whisper their well wishes as you carefully roll the cart through the space, and you manage to mouth a quick thank you just before they quietly shut the slab of wood behind you.

you wait in the hallway for a second for denki to come out of the room and go back to his own, but that never comes.

well, then. you guess they’re not set on beating the allegations, either.

once you’re sure denki’s not coming out anytime soon, you take a shaky breath. meticulously, you let your eyes trail the row of doors that line the hallway, before they land on the number jirou supplied you with earlier today while you were still at the airport. pushing the cart that contains the lit cake and champagne—and even the dark orange balloons marking his age—right up to the doorway, you take another wobbly inhale.

suddenly, and in the face of finally seeing your boyfriend after over a month of being literally oceans apart, the exhaustion of travelling for hours dissipates from your system, leaving you almost shaking in nothing but excitement.

and you were about to lift your hand to knock on the door—really, you were—when, to your horror and without any warning, the door flings open, and you find yourself face to face with no other than the birthday boy himself.

you can only blink at the man who’s frozen midway through the passageway, his pretty face mirroring the utterly bewildered expression you’re sure you’re sporting right now.

you manage to gather your bearings first, the sole thing you can muster being: “…surprise?”

now, in the split second of thinking time this situation has granted you, you figured he’d likely curse in disbelief, maybe ask you what the fuck you’re doing here, but what you didn’t expect was for him to stand—unmoving—for a couple more seconds, before unceremoniously lifting you into a bone-crushing hug.

“katsuki!” you squeal, looping your arms around his neck and your legs around his body, holding on for dear life. “put me down!”

bakugou only squeezes you tighter in response, and you have no choice but to cling onto him for a beat longer, until he effortlessly puts you back on your feet, that same unbelieving look still painted across his features.

“what the—”

“—fuck am i doing here?” you finish for him, and he nods, scoffing out an astounded laugh.

you gesture to the cart beside you, and you make a swift mental note that the candle’s gonna go out anytime soon. “i wanted to surprise you for your birthday.”

and before he can say something in response, you jut in. “quick, make a wish and blow before it goes out.”

to your confusion, bakugou doesn’t even spare the cake a glance, gaze fixed on you.

“don’t have to.”

you frown. “what? hurry up, kats, it’s gonna—”

“i said,” he interjects, pulling you closer by your waist, and your hands shoot up to plant themselves against his chest, “i don’t have to.”

looking up at him, you gulp. “w-why?”

a smirk. “because you’re already here, dumbass.”

that's all the foreboding you’re given before you’re seized into a scathing kiss, and you barely manage to bite back a groan at the simultaneously foreign yet familiar feeling of bakugou’s lips against yours, even more so as he presses himself further against you, deepening the kiss. you let your hands snake up to bakugou’s neck as you feel his caress your sides, and you have to fight to ignore the shot of arousal that courses through you the moment his tongue breaches your mouth’s entrance, exploring it so hungrily like he hasn’t done so a million times before.

you probably stand there stuck to each other for a couple of minutes when a particularly hard bite on your lower lip lurches you back to reality—the reality that you’re very much still in a public space and that the last thing bakugou needs is to reach headlines for being seen aggressively making out with his girlfriend.

and so with much reluctance, you take a step back, and another when bakugou moves to chase your lips, before he finally gets the message and lets his arms drop to his sides, albeit somewhat begrudgingly.

you take the opportunity to chance another glance at the cake, and sure enough, the candle is already dead.

“we can just cut out the parts where the wax melted,” bakugou suggests when you don’t say anything for a minute, and you look back at him and smile, nodding.

neither of you says another word for a beat, resorting to just staring at each other with your mouths pulled taut into goofy grins.

it’s bakugou, though, who breaks the silence.

“you’re so fucking pretty.”

you flush, although you snort to hide your fluster. “i can’t be surprising my boyfriend looking like a hot mess, now, can i?”

“you can, you know,” bakugou replies without missing a beat, gesturing you inside, “and i’ll still think you look fucking pretty.”

you punch him in the arm as you file into his suite, which he takes in stride before pushing the cart in step behind you.

“since when did you become such a smooth talker?”

at that, bakugou laughs that gruff laugh of his as he closes the door and turns to regard you. “well, sue me for flirting with my girlfriend.”

“stupid,” you chuckle as you shake your head in amusement, before tossing him the sincerest smile you can muster. “i missed you, kats.”

before you know it, bakugou’s back on you in an instant, wrapping his arms around your torso almost too tightly, although you can’t find it in you to mind. “i missed you, too, baby.”

“were you in jirou’s room the entire time?” he asks after a moment of just standing there, limbs interconnected.

“yeah, they helped me keep the entire thing under wraps.”

“huh,” bakugou muses, rubbing absentminded circles on your waist. “didn’t know they were damn good actors. i had no idea.”

you grin. “i’ll take that as a win.”

a pause.

“you being here certainly is.”

you let out an exaggerated groan, pushing the man away and walking towards the foot of his bed, plopping yourself down onto the firm mattress. the motherfucker only laughs at you, although he’s quick to trail behind you and sit himself in the spot right next to you, not sparing you a modicum of distance.

“you know,” you start, side-eyeing the pro-hero as you take off your heels, “if you keep this up, i’m gonna start thinking you really missed me.”

“i’m fucked, then,” he retorts, “because i ain’t beating any of your allegations.”

you laugh again. “speaking of not beating any allegations, denki’s in jirou’s room right now.”

“what did i fucking tell you?”

“i know, i know. i just didn’t think they’d be so brazen about hooking up. they’re not even trying to hide it.”

bakugou sniggers, taking your hand in his. “should’ve made a bet with you.”

“you say that as if you’d take a single yen from me,” you rebut, to which he can only shrug, unable to argue with your point.

“enough about them, though,” you say a moment later, your hand still being massaged by bakugou. “what do you want to do?”

and when he only stares at you blankly: “for the rest of your birthday?”

“oh, right.”

you huff, lightly bumping your shoulder with his. “i mean, if you wanna go rest up, then we can do that, too.”

“quit being huffy,” bakugou chastises, “there is something i want to do.”

“really? what is it?”

bakugou lifts his gaze from where your hands are intertwined to meet yours, and one look is enough to tell you what he’s thinking.

you instantly feel yourself flame. “really? aren’t you too tired to do it?”

“nah,” he grins, “i was gonna jack off before sleeping, anyway.”

you snort. “of course, you were.”

“what?” he says defensively. “it helps me sleep better, especially after a long day of work.”

you study his face for another second, before nodding and moving to stand up, although you don’t get to go far because of bakugou’s hold on you.

“where are you going?”

“i have a hair tie in my purse,” you answer, “let me just go grab it.”

you try to step away again, but bakugou’s grip only tightens. you glance back at him, confused. “what?”

“who said i wanted you to suck me off?”

you frown. “aren’t you still tired, though? let me make you feel good, that way you can just lie in bed and take it.”

at that, bakugou shakes his head, pulling you back to him. despite yourself, you let yourself be dragged into the space between his legs, your hands placed on his shoulders while his take residence on your hips.

bakugou creens to look up at you, a serious expression etched on his features. “as fucking appealing as that sounds, that’s not what i want to do right now.”

“this thing i want to do—” he continues when you signal at him to keep going, “—is…new.”

“n-new?”

“yeah. new as in we’ve never tried it before, but i’ve been thinking about it, ever since shitty dunce face planted the idea in my head our first day here.”

you swallow. “first day?”

he nods. “it’s got something to do with—” his line of vision shifts towards something behind you, “—that.”

you look back behind you, and you’ve to stop yourself from gasping when your eyes land on it.

or rather, on the image of you and bakugou.

you whip your head to look at the man, unable to hide the shock on your face. “y-you want to do it—in front of—”

“the mirror, yeah,” he croaks, sounding like he’s trying to mask his own uncertainty, and yet, there’s no denying the determination in his voice. “only if you want to do it, too, of course.”

“yeah, no, of course,” you quickly say, “i-i want to. it’s just—frankly, i never thought of it before.”

“me too,” bakugou admits, “well, up until we arrived here and denki commented on how big the floor-length mirrors were.”

“…so naturally you thought of us having sex in front of it?”

that grants you a pinch at your side, and you squeak—more in astonishment than in pain.

“you forget that it’s my birthday, you fucking tease.”

“sorry, sorry,” you laugh, “i’m done. that was the last one.”

“that better be,” he warns, although it has no real bite to it.

“…so,” you try again after a lull, “how’d you wanna go about it?”

“here,” he gestures to the small space between his legs, “you can sit with your back turned towards me.”

“uh, sure.”

just as was instructed, you turn on your bare feet until you’re facing the mirror, and slowly sit yourself on the edge of the bed and in front of bakugou, although you’re not even fully perched against him yet, before you feel something stiff prod against your back.

you don’t get to comment on it, though, because he beats you to it.

“i know,” he huffs, seemingly self-conscious, not meeting the reflection of your eyes. “i don’t know why it’s turning me on this much, either.”

at that, you place a hand on the arm that’s circled your waist, and the other on one of his thighs, just as you flash him the most reassuring smile you can manage. “it’s alright, baby. i love it when you get this way.”

“y-you do?”

you playfully roll your eyes at him. “you know i do. now, hurry up. we don’t have all night.”

that earns you a disapproving tut, although you can see the amusement behind bakugou’s eyes in the mirror, and the very sight of it sends a wave of anticipation coursing through your veins.

jesus. when was the last time you were this excited?

“you know, for someone who’s eager to please her boyfriend on his birthday, you sure are being a brat.”

“and for someone who’s eager to try a new kink out, you sure are being slow.”

bakugou growls. “that’s it.”

you can only yelp as bakugou practically yanks the zipper of your dress down, and with it, the entire top portion of the ensemble; you don’t get to react or protest, though, because in a matter of a split second, bakugou’s hands are on your naked breasts, and you almost let out a loud moan when he gropes at them so roughly—you can feel your core throb at the all-too overwhelming sensation.

“fuck,” he groans in your ear just as you squirm in front of him, his grip on your chest unrelenting. “i’ve missed these.”

and, as if your breasts have a mind of their own, you feel your nipples stiffen at bakugou’s sentiment—a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pro-hero, who’s quick to tug at your pebbled peaks, rubbing circles and flicking on the flesh.

“shit, you like it when i tell you i’ve missed your boobs?” he rasps, and you can only rub your thighs together in response, eyes clenched close in pleasure. “what if i tell you i’ve been jacking off every night to that picture of you in your lingerie?”

“you know the one,” he goads, squeezing firmly at your chest, “the one i gifted you that leaves nothing to the imagination?”

you nod—barely—but enough to indicate that you’re still listening, which you’ve learned the hard way is important if you didn’t want to trigger your katsuki. at your affirmation, bakugou lets out a satisfied grunt.

“now, get up,” he demands, “we need to get this fucking dress off of you.”

and off of you it goes. you don’t waste a second in heeding his order and discarding the sundress of the same shade of burnt orange off you, and you also take the chance to strip off your thong—the very one you went for despite the discomfort it brought just so you could surprise your boyfriend if ever things went the direction they are heading right now.

but you’ve barely tugged it off your hips when bakugou’s hand shoots up to stop you, and you look at him in bewilderment, mind only half-working with lust. “what?”

“keep it on,” he commands, “i want you to see how pretty you look when i finger you through your panties.”

well.

you know better than to argue with him at this point, so you only return to your seat that’s becoming smaller by the minute, with his erection taking up more space even against the straining fabric of his sweatpants. it’s only when you’re seated once again do you remember to finally look at the mirror, and when you do, the sight of you sprawled limp and bare against bakugou’s muscled frame causes you to moan out loud, to which bakugou could only curse in response.

“see, baby?” he spurs, tone desperate, “this is what i have to deal with every time we fuck.”

he scoffs, just as he brings a hand down to cup your sex. “and you wonder why i get so hard so fast.”

you whine, if not for his taunting, then at the lack of friction against your core, but you don’t get to do so for long before bakugou’s free hand grabs at your chin, forcing you to look straight into the mirror and at yourself.

“quit fucking whining and watch me finger you,” he spits, before: “and don’t even think about closing your eyes.”

that’s the last thing he says before he, true to his word, slips two fingers into your underwear and thrusts them into your hole with little to no warning. you’ve no choice but to moan at the intrusion—your eyes in the middle of fluttering closed when he grabs your face again and points it forward, all the while not stopping his pistoning of his ridiculously long digits in and out of you.

“just look at yourself, princess,” he hisses, “ i love it when you look so fucked out like this.”

“uuuugh—”

bakugou snickers, not even giving you a heads up when he brings his other hand up to start rubbing figure eights on your clit. “can’t even form a proper phrase? that’s how good i’m making you feel?”

“uuugh—fuck—”

the pro-hero seems to take this as further encouragement, because he only presses harder against your bud, while the fingers that are nestled deep within you continue to rub oh-so deliciously against your walls.

the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm come sooner than later after that, and bakugou notices it, too, because he doubles down on his ministrations the second you start violently shaking and thrashing in front of him.

“are you gonna cum, baby?” he whispers against your ear, and you can only nod, too distrusting in your capability to say yes without whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“look at the mirror, then,” he coaxes—gently, this time—softly bumping your head with his so you would turn towards your reflection.

and, because you want to please your boyfriend on his birthday—of all days—you do.

and the sight of bakugou’s big, strong hands pumping in and out of you and rubbing frantically at your clit while you moan and squirm right up against his big, strong body drives you well over the edge.

and you cum.

and cum.

and cum.

and you don’t know how much time passes with you lying flaccid on top of the pro-hero’s torso, but by the time you come to, bakugou’s rubbing soothing circles on your waist, while your arms lie slack on top of his that are circled around you.

you shift to look up at the man, who only smiles at you—so delicately, the way he does whenever he was feeling especially intimate—you wouldn’t think he was just roughhousing you a mere moment ago.

“what about you?” you eventually manage to croak out, eyebrows furrowing in apprehension.

“what about me?”

“you didn’t get to finish, birthday boy,” you say pointedly, shifting in your seat. but then it suddenly registers how wet your butt is, and you do a double-take to make sure you’re not imagining it, when bakugou confirms your suspicions.

“i came, too,” he confesses, voice betraying his difficulty of wrapping his head around what just happened. “i don’t fucking know how, but i did.”

“…wow,” is the only thing you’re able to say for a while, before: “we should do this more often.”

at that, bakugou snorts, shaking his head. “neither of us has a big mirror back home.”

to that, you toss him a mischievous smirk, before standing up and padding towards your purse in all your naked glory. you try to ignore the way bakugou’s definitely eye-fucking you as you hastily fish out your phone from its depths, quickly making a few taps before placing it on the coffee table, a triumphant smile on your face.

“what?” bakugou asks, mirroring your grin.

“you won’t believe what i just got you for your birthday.”

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[no-144444]

walk away happy- m.verstappen

꩜summary: max and you are on the rocks, despite the rock on your finger. he comes back from bahrain and he doesn't have answers, so you don't wait for them

꩜pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

Max really didn’t want to go home. Bahrain was shit, and he was exhausted, but back home… well, he wasn’t sure if you were still there, to put it gently. 

And he knew he was being a dick. He knew he was hurting your feelings and he did it anyway, because of course he did. He’s Max Verstappen and for some reason he feels the need to push away anyone who loves him, the second things get hard again. And the off-season had been magical. He’d fucking proposed! You’d forgiven him for his awful behaviour during last season, and you’d accepted him as your life partner, and he was more than happy. 

How did he fuck it all up in less than a month? 

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside. It was quiet. The lights were off. He gulped. He left his suitcases at the door and started his tentative search. Living room was clear, kitchen was clear, his office was clear, your office was clear, both bathrooms were clear-

He found you curled up in bed, your glasses still on your face and a book in your hand. He chuckled lightly, moving the book to your side table, not before dog-earring the page. He carefully took your glasses off and placed them on the book, and he pulled the covers over you. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe you’d be less annoyed when you woke up. He stared at the scene in front of him, and he couldn’t help but feel that something was missing from your bedside table. 

The wedding planner. Fuck. 

He walked through the house as he went about his nightly activities in search of it. As he ate his dinner, he looked around the apartment for it. While he brushed his teeth he checked your car. 

Nothing. And his chest tightened. 

Despite his anxiety around the planner, he fell to sleep quickly. He always did beside you. 

You felt him before you saw him. His hands on your waist, his breath on your neck. You could’ve sworn you could still smell the champagne on his skin. 

You removed his hands as best you could, and quietly got up and out of bed. He woke up when he noticed how cold the bed was. 

There you were, sitting in the living room, a cup of tea in hand, your book in your other. And you were quiet. No waking him up with a kiss. No cuddling before the day started. No begging him to make you a cup of tea before you got up. No music playing as your day started.

Just sad, suffocating silence. 

“I’m sorr-” he started. 

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, not bothering to turn your attention to him. “I was being dramatic, it’s not a big deal.” 

‘Not a big deal’? This was your wedding, how was it not a big deal? He cautiously sat beside you. “Well, I’m still sorry,” he admitted, turning to you. You stayed with your head in your book. “I was being an ass and I’m sorry I made you less excited about it.”

Again, you just shrugged, and stared at him (finally). Though, it was that thousand yard, you’ve hurt me, stare that he hates so much. “It’s nothing. It’s just a wedding.” 

‘Just a wedding’. Wow. He really fucked this up, didn’t he? “Schat,” he took your hand in his, forcing you to give him your attention. “It’s not just a wedding, it’s our wedding, and I care about it. I’m sorry I was being mean.” 

You shrugged again. “It’s fine Max, I don’t care,” you huffed, turning back to your book. You very clearly cared, and he had no idea what to do. “Let’s just forget it.”

“The wedding or the fight?” he mused and you rolled your eyes. 

“Whatever you want,” you scoffed. His entire body tensed. What the fuck did that mean? ‘Whatever he wanted’? He wanted you to be happy, not be upset with him, he wanted- “Just go do some sim work or something, I have work today-”

“We need to talk about this,” he sighed and again, you scoffed. 

“What would that even do, Max? It’s not going to reverse anything you said or make me feel any less of a burden to you, so what would it solve? Please tell me,” your words were sharp, cutting into the ache in his chest, making it hurt worse. 

“You’re not a burden to me,” he shook his head. “You never are.”

“Exactly, I’m just your punching bag,” you met his eyes. Yours were cold. Calculated. Unknown. His were pleading. Insecure. Scared. 

He sighed. “I’m sorry-”

“Yeah, you’re always fucking sorry Max. Always sorry,” you chuckled, but it wasn’t funny. It was hurt. It was pain. It was a reflection of exactly what he did to you. “I’ll organise it on my own, it’s fine. Just… you didn’t have to be so mean about it. Saying all my ideas were stupid or silly.”

He sat there, still. “I was upset at the car-”

“But you took it out on me,” you shot back. “You always fucking take it out on me.”

“I know,” he nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “I know I do. And it’s not fair.” 

“You always say that,” your voice was thick with emotion. “But I genuinely don’t think you believe it-”

“Of course I believe it!” 

“Then why do you still treat me like shit?!” you shouted back, tears falling down your cheeks. He didn’t have an answer. You waited for one. “Here,” you threw him your engagement ring. “No more headaches.” 

Neither of you walked away happy. You still loved him, and he knew he’d never be complete without you. But sometimes breaking up is the best thing to do.

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[astroellies]

imgonnagetyouback (prologue)

ellie williams x reader

moving somewhere new was never easy. especially in the apocalypse. and especially when you think your crush despises you.

warnings! villianization of cat (i’m sorry). ellie and reader are around 16 in the flashbacks, 18 in the present day. loser reader. loser ellie. miscommunication trope. useless lesbians. slight rivals to lovers. substance/alcohol use. this is kinda just background.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

your parents had been saying for weeks that jackson was finally getting close.

weeks of ten hour hikes, followed by sleeping bags and hard ground or moldy mattresses. weeks of hunting for your meals and eating them burnt. weeks of soggy socks and mosquito bites.

when your parents had heard about the possibility of refuge they didn’t put much thought into leaving the qz. they packed you and your stuff and headed towards wyoming.

what they didn’t think about was the absolute shit show that would stop them from completing their journey.

hordes and infection took them out. now you were left, alone and helpless with no idea where the fuck you were.

a week ago you had manage to find a supermarket to hideout in to sob into your hands and accept death. your food and water supply were nearly depleted. days were getting colder, even if you found game to hunt and a water source you couldn’t fight off the cold with just the clothes on your back.

you curled into the fetal position in a corner of the building. wallowing in self pity and grief, you had no way of getting yourself out of this one, so you cried again.

light muffled voices came from outside of the building and you froze. you strained your ears but couldn’t make out what the voices were saying. you weighed your options, do you reveal yourself and beg for help? or stay put? what if they were enslavers looking for more workers? your mother had told you about large groups that forced their captured to work to the death.

you decided the the latter. you held your breath as the voices got closer. you heard a thud against the boarded off doors to the store. then another and the doors gave way.

“see, ellie, i told you that would work.”

“yeah, yeah. just check for supplies, tommy is gonna to be pissed if we’re not back soon.”

from your spot you couldn’t see the the speakers of the voices. both girls. they sounded young, your age.

“mmm but i like being alone with you.” said the first girl. you could heard the voice drop, low and sultry. gross.

the footsteps closer to you now. you swallowed hard, trying your hardest not to move.

the second girl half scoffed, half chuckled, “seriously, cat, we need to get back so-” the voice cuts as the girl rounded the corner and made eye contact with you.

she clearly wasn’t expecting anyone, infected or otherwise, in here. she has a baby face, cheeks still round and wide green eyes. her chest rises and falls in quick breaths, trying to see if you’ll attack. you stay curled up on the ground.

“ellie you okay?” the first voice gets hers closer then comes up behind the girl, ellie, and says, “oh fuck.”

“i’m not infected!” you say, panicking. they have guns and you really, really don’t want them to shoot. “i- i can prove it!” you’re pulling your clothing to show them you’re clean.

“ellie, what do we do?” cat asks.

ellie has been staring at you the whole time, but she seems to snap out of her daze when she hears her name but doesn’t pull her gaze away from you, “uhh…we take her to tommy.”

“you alone?” she asks.

“yeah, yes.”

she nods then she raises her gun at you, but her finger isn’t on the trigger. “get up.”

you scramble, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and standing on wobbly legs.

“are you armed?” ellie asks.

“just a knife. it’s in my bag.”

“give it to me.”

you hand her the knife and she swallows. no one knows what to do next.

“um…cat you lead, i’ll…i’ll follow to make sure she doesn’t run off.”

cat nods then turns her gaze to you, looking you up and down, “this way.”

the three of you hike, you don’t know if ellie is still pointing her gun at you, but you’re too scared to look back and upset her. so you take in the girl in front of you. a teenager, she was probably a year older than you at most. she has short black hair and you can see tattoos on her arms peaking out from under her jacket.

you follow cat into the suburbs, old rickety houses and some completely collapsed. she leads you into a fenced off yard of one of the houses and you find a middle aged man and a teenage boy.

“tommy! we found a girl at the supermarket. she says she’s alone.” cat yells out.

the man, tommy, and the boy turn towards the three of you. “she hurt?” you know he isn’t just asking if you have any scrapes or bruises, the real underlying question is is she infected?

“no, she’s clean.” cat says, and looks back at you.

tommy looks at you and points with his chin. “what’re you doing out here alone?”

all the attention turns to you and you suddenly feel very small. “my parents had heard rumors about a town, jackson, somewhere out here so we fled from a qz. they uhm…they’re dead now. i was staying in the supermarket.”

all three of the teens turn to tommy, gauging his reaction.

he’s quiet for a long while then says, “jesse, grab the horses. you can come with us.”

you panic, you don’t know these people or their intentions. what if they were slavers your parents had warned you about? or raiders? or cannibals?

“what? where are we going?” you should have lied, should have told ellie you didn’t have any weapons so you could run and hide, curl into the corner of the supermarket and die.

“you’ll see.” tommy hops onto his horse and holds out a hand to pull you up. you look around and the others have all mounted their horses as well. you don’t see that you have much of a choice you you take his hand.

the group rides for a while, all you see is forest and abandon buildings and your heart is racing. who are these people? is tommy their leader?

you’re starting to feel as though they don’t know where they’re going either when you crest over a hill. in the distance a large fence closes off building from the rest of the world, and inside the walls of the fence you see lights.

“is this-”

“jackson.” tommy says, waving a flag above his head, “we don’t let many new people in. you’re lucky.”

when you entire inside the gates you stand off to the side, waiting for the group to put their horses in the stable. the town is different from anything you’ve seen before, it looks like the movies from before. kids run around the town freely and people are laughing. it’s nothing like the qz.

ellie is the first out of the stables. she approaches you from the stables and hands you your knife.

“sorry if we scared you earlier, we’re just cautious of newcomers. i’m ellie. and here’s your knife back.”

“no it’s okay! i mean, this place is fucking insane i get why you’re protective of it.” your fingers brush her palm has you take your knife and butterflies erupt in your stomach. she’s got the cutest mole under her left eye that scrunches up when she smiles.

she’s quiet, as if debating what to say, “i came here a couple years ago, if you need someone to show you the ropes let me know.”

“okay! thank you.” you feel your face warm.

“ellie, we gotta go! we’re going to be late for movie night.” cat comes out of the stables.

“sorry i have to go. i’ll see you around?” ellie says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“yeah!” you say but she’s already turned, walking towards cat. as the two walk away throws a cold look over her shoulder.

the next few months were a blur. lots of questioning from maria about how your parents had heard of jackson and what their intentions were. how they died. then assimilating you into the community. maria often partnered you with jesse, dina, ellie, or cat for patrols. she made you tag along to their hangouts, she told you they’re good kids, most of them had been in your situation once too.

A YEAR AND A HALF PRIOR

it had been six months since you arrived in jackson. winter was coming to a close and it had been gloomy for weeks with no sign of the sun coming out anytime soon.

dina sits across from you in the mess hall, picking at her bread and soup. her and jesse were on a “break” again and she wouldn’t stop talking about how he was ignoring her on group patrol today. you had stopped listening a long time ago.

“anyways! we’re having a bonfire tonight just outside the gates, you should come!”

“i dunno,” you push your heel into the ground, dina had been almost overly welcoming to you when you first arrived in town but you weren’t sure of the others. it just felt like you were bugging them when you tagged along. “who’s gonna be there?”

she lists off people on her fingers, “me, of course, jesse,” she rolls her eyes but continues, “cat, ellie, some others”

you let out a puff of air “why do you say her name like that, dina?”

“because it’s literally so obvious you have a massive crush on her.” she says like it’s common knowledge. maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

“i do not!” you feel your face heat up and you hide your head in your hands.

dina laughs, “yes, you fucking do! you actually listen to me when i talk about her!”

“ugh stoppp. i don’t!” you whine.

she just gives you a look.

“i don’t!” it’s a lie and you know it but you couldn’t handle dina teasing you in front of ellie or the others.

“i’m serious, though. you should come,”

you sigh, “fine, i’ll go.”

that night after dark you meet up with everyone at the northern gates.

nights were still frigid, you pull your coat tighter around you.

“is this everyone?” you ask dina.

“yeah. anddd i stuck into the tipsy bison to get us something to keep us warm.” she winks and pulls the top of a bottle from her back.

“dina! we’ll be in so much trouble if we get caught!” you look around to make sure no house lights turn on.

“we won’t! ellie and i used to throw full on parties at a campground a few miles south. this is nothing.”

you give her a pointed look and wait for jesse to finish opening the gate.

the group makes a hike into a spot on a lake just outside of jackson. there is already a pit for the fire and jesse and ellie get started on lighting it. ellie’s got her hair back in a low bun, pieces around her face falling out. her cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold.

her eyes glow with the light from the sparks, “got it!”

you end up perched on a log between dina and ellie.

“dee, you got any on you?” ellie asks.

“only if you say please.” dina says, already reaching into her bag.

“pleaseee.” ellie flutters her lashes dramatically.

“eugene rolled it and everything.” ellie reaches across your body for the joint, as she retracts her arm it brushes against you and you hope no one notices you freeze up in the dark.

ellie takes lights it then takes a hit, “ah, i was wondering why it looked so nice. you always fuck it up.”

“i do not!”

you giggle and shake your head. the two fought like sisters.

dina pushes you with her shoulder, “you smoke?”

“uh, no i don’t…i haven’t before.”

“oh my god are you serious? do you want to?”

“i guess…i’ve just never had the chance to.”

ellie plucks the blunt from cat’s hand as she brought it towards her own mouth.

“ellie!” she yelps, annoyed.

“cat she’s never smoked before, let her take a hit.”

you look at ellie’s outstretched hand and up at her eyes. she gives you a playful squint, almost daring you to take it from her.

you slowly bring the joint to your lips and suck in but the smoke gets stuck in your throat and you cough so hard your eyes fill with tears. “what the fuck!”

everyone laughs. everyone except for cat, who stares you down. her eyes flicker between you and ellie and lock on yours. you turn away, her gaze too intense.

jesse throws you a bottle of water, “take in easy.”

the rest of the night is filled with giggles. dina shares stories of how joel walked in on her and ellie hotboxing ellie’s garage.

jesse checks his watch, “i hate to be a downer but it’s getting late and some people have patrol in the morning.” he looks at ellie and cat.

“yeah, yeah grandpa, we can head back now.” ellie grumbled.

the group disperses while ellie and jesse take care of the fire and dina picks up her bottles. you stand off to the side, facing jackson, waiting for dina to come back. you hear footsteps approach and look to find cat. she stands next to you, facing out towards the town.

“hey.” you say, giving her a close mouthed smile.

“hi.” she crosses her arms over her body, mirroring your own posture.

“tonight was fun.” you feel a bit awkward, she’s lingering but her presence isn’t comforting like dina or ellie’s.

“mhm.” she turns to look at you and leans in, “just so you know, you’ve been making ellie really uncomfortable with you staring problem but she’s too nice to say anything about it.”

you feel your heart drop down to your ass. you didn’t think she had even noticed your glances, let alone be upset by them.

“what? i had no idea, should i apologize?” you look behind you, ellie’s laughing and shoving jesse away, playfully calling him a dick.

“no, but i’d really appreciate if you stayed the fuck away from my girlfriend.” she says in and overly sweet tone. she looks back to the others.

“guys c’mon it’s late!” she says, already making her way back towards jackson.

ellie rushes to cat’s side and gives her a kiss. you try not to flush with embarrassment, you didn’t mean to upset her.

dina falls into step with you. “you okay?”

“what? yeah.” you laugh, it sounds forced and unnatural, “just tired.”

she side eyes you, “okay, weirdo.”