#i lost track of where i was going a bit while writing this but i had a heck of a time

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

i know love // joaquin torres

Summary: Having been raised in the Red Room, people would expect you to be ruthless and cold. Your vulnerability surfaces when a conversation topic is brought up during dinner, and you need to have a difficult conversation with Joaquín.  

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Ex-Widow!Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of brainwashing and killing, mentions of reader having an involuntary hysterectomy in the red room, mentions of dreykov, reader doesn't know how to deal with her emotions, mentions of adoption, angst, hurt/comfort, but a happy ending!!

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Also, thanks to @heybaynoot for proofreading this!

This is my first time writing for Joaquín, I probably got him OOC a bit, but hope you guys like this one! Oh, and I have more in store for Joaquín & BlackWidow!Reader so stay tuned!

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It was an offhand comment.

This wasn’t something you should be overthinking.

Any other woman in your situation would have been thrilled. And that was the problem—you weren't like other women. And no, this wasn't meant to be a compliment.

Your childhood and adolescence hadn’t been the most conventional. You knew it hadn’t been your fault; you never had a say in anything, yet it didn’t undo the knot in your stomach nor make the nightmares go away.

It had only been a few years since you'd begun to get your life back on track. Or, well, to build your own. One that actually felt like yours, where you were more than just the prisoner of a rich sadist.

When Yelena found you and freed your mind from their control, you were lost. Waking up was difficult. Facing the reality around you was puzzling, and you struggled with understanding your true identity. 

But that was ages ago. 

You have got your life on track since then.

And everything was going well. You could say you were happy for the first time in a long time. A fundamental pillar of that happiness was thanks to Joaquin.

When Sam introduced you, you never thought he would become such an important part of your life. Falling in love with him wasn't in your plans, but it had happened. And it was quite simple. That was one of the long list of special things about Joaquín—loving him was so easy.

From the first moment, you noticed the brightness he radiated. He was funny, kind, sweet, and smart. He had a charming personality, and it was literally impossible not to smile when he was around—and you weren't someone who was used to smiling, not before him at least.

He knew who you were and what you had done, and it had never been an issue for him. To be honest, his reaction when he met you was something you hadn't expected. He was thrilled and excited to officially meet an ex-widow. And, despite his obvious curiosity, he never asked anything about the Red Room. You assumed it was out of respect; perhaps he did not want you to remember Dreykov, the training, and the brainwashing.

And the killing.

And you had to admit you were delighted that the subject was never brought up.

He still complimented your fighting skills. Like, all the time. Looking like a proud boyfriend every time you kicked someone's ass. 

There was a moment, early in your relationship, when you realized it was him. You had never known love before—not that kind. And Joaquin's was the best first experience you could have asked for. You had been certain that he was going to be your first and last. You didn't want anyone else. Because no one would ever make you feel the way he did.

But now everything has crumbled.

Because of a single comment.

“We're going to have the cutest babies.”

The words had rolled off his tongue so easily.

And they had stabbed your heart in the same way.

Sarah had smiled at his words, Sam had rolled his eyes and made a witty remark, while you pressed your lips into a thin smile, and the conversation at the table just continued on.

But you couldn't shake off the feeling.

In all the time you had been dating Joaquín, the topic of having children had never been brought up. You thought it was because he knew. And he was being the considerate, thoughtful gentleman he was.

But now you were thinking that maybe Joaquín didn't know everything you went through in the Red Room.

You had the image of his happy face burned into your brain when he made the baby comment, and it only intensified the knotting in your stomach.

This happened two weeks ago, and since then, your mind has not stopped spinning in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings. You didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well, technically, you did; you knew you had to talk to Joaquín. If the future he had planned for himself was to have a family, it was clear he was not going to have that with you.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a grunt of resignation. You'd tried your best to leave the past behind you, just for it to come back, knocking on your door and hitting you with a harsh reminder that happiness was a luxury you couldn’t yet afford.

Something was going on.

And Joaquin had noticed this. 

You'd been acting odd, distant even, and he couldn't figure out why.

Had he done something that irked you?

Despite living together, over the past two weeks, you’ve been coming up with excuses to avoid spending time together, skipping your regular morning coffee dates, and missing movie nights. Even during your training sessions, your conversations felt minimal and strained.

But what hurt him the most was that whenever he attempted to reach out for you, you recoiled from his touch—something you never did before. 

You had always loved his clinginess. He felt the need to have a hand on you constantly. While other people had considered it annoying in the past, it never seemed to bother you. On the contrary, it seemed like you yearned for his touch just almost as he longed for yours.

When he mentioned the situation to Sam, the reaction he got was that he was reading too much into it and that maybe you just needed to have some space.

“Have you talked to her about it?”

No. He hadn’t. Because he was afraid he would get the answer his brain was already conjuring up. 

And he wasn’t ready for it.

Not that it mattered, because you started the conversation yourself that afternoon.                               

A sense of relief washed over him as he noticed you standing in the living room of your shared apartment.

Everything may be okay after all. 

Perhaps Sam was right, and you just needed space. 

However, the happiness was wiped from his face when he noticed the expression on your face, followed by the dreadful words, “We need to talk.”

Joaquín felt the air escape from his lungs. A lump formed in his throat as your words echoed in his head.  

‘We need to talk’. 

Those words almost always came before terrible news.

He searched your face for clues, any hint that this time might be different, but the seriousness in your eyes revealed everything he feared. 

“Can we sit down, please?” 

Joaquín nodded, swallowing hard as he followed you to the couch. You sat across from him, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, a subtle sign of your own unease. The cushions felt too soft, and indulgent as if mocking the tension between the two of you.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few weeks…” You began, your voice quivering slightly, and he felt a surge of fear grip his heart. “I know you had noticed that I had pushed you away, and I—”

The words sent a shiver down his spine. A flicker of emotion crossed your eyes—a mix of determination and sadness—that sent a twist through his stomach.

You'd rehearsed this conversation in your head, every word, but now that you had your boyfriend in front of you, your mind had gone completely blank. Your eyes drank in how worried he was; you hated yourself for doing this to him.

You took a deep breath, the kind that tried to draw in all the courage you could muster. “Remember two weeks ago when we had dinner with Sam and Sarah?” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Of all the things his mind had conjured up, you mentioning the dinner at Sarah's was not among them. However, he nodded and gestured for you to go on. 

“Sarah said something about AJ and Cass and then you mentioned that we were gonna have the cutest babies, and I—” 

God, this hurt so much.

Each word you spoke felt like a dagger piercing his chest, and made his heart sink further. The lump in his throat seemed to grow even bigger. “Is that what this is about? You don’t want to build a family with me?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks—of course, Joaquín would assume he was the problem. You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “No, it's not that I don't want to.” You exhaled, forcing the words out, your heart racing. “It's just…”

Joaquin leaned forward, squinting in a fervent plea for clarity. The concern on his face was palpable.

“I thought you knew about this, and that’s why you never brought the subject up…” You took a deep breath and finally uttered the words weighing heavily inside you. “I can’t have kids, Joaquin.”

“In the Red Room, they had this graduation ceremony…They sterilized us. One less thing to worry about, I guess.” You grimaced, your hands fidgeting instinctively—a nervous habit you couldn't recall developing. “For Dreykov, that was what mattered even more than a mission. It made everything easier. Even the killing.”

He struggled with the truth of what you said, and the world around him dimmed for a minute. 

“I've fought to put that part of my life behind me, and I don't want to be the burden that holds you back from having the life you want.”

“You're not a burden to me.” He moved closer and took one of your hands in his own, his thumb softly stroking patterns on the back of your hand. “What I want is you—just as you are. A future without you holds no interest for me.”

Emotions you had suppressed for so long started to overwhelm you, and tears filled your eyes. “I don't want to put you in that position. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy with you,” he replied, with a resolute tone.

“What if one day you change your mind?”

Joaquín leaned in, his eyes blazing with a sharp intensity that sliced through the fog of doubt that shrouded you. “I swear to you, my mind is made up. And it starts and ends with you.”

He cupped your face gently, wiping away a tear. You closed your eyes in contentment, leaning into his touch. 

You had missed it so much.

You had missed him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

For the first time in two weeks, Joaquín found himself smiling—truly smiling. 

He pulled you closer, draping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling in his familiar scent, while he tightened his embrace around you, afraid that you would slip away.

He had missed you.

“Please, don’t push me away again,” he pleaded softly, his voice muffled as his face rested against your head. “Those were the worst two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly. “I don’t know how to deal with my emotions well, but I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are. And I’m here for you if you need me. We’ll work through it together. We’re a team, remember?”

As you listened to him, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. The fear that had gripped you for weeks started to fade.

“And we can always consider adoption,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “There are so many kids out there in need of a caring home. We can give them a shot at a better life.”

“I like that idea,” you said quietly, a timid smile emerging through the lingering traces of your tears.

“Good.” His hand found yours again, his fingers easily interlacing with yours. A wave of tranquility enveloped you, and for the first time in weeks, it felt as though you could breathe. You rested your head against his shoulder, settling into him and finding comfort in the calming thud of his heartbeat.

“Thank you for being so understanding. I don't deserve you.”

“Don't say that,” he said, lifting your chin, making you meet his eyes. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. And I'm not going anywhere.”

With that, he leaned into you, his lips softly brushing against yours, and in that instant, everything felt right again. The outside world faded, enveloping you in your warm little cocoon of comfort and understanding.

[yukioos]

izuku who follows you around like a lost puppy

“i’ve never seen one of them alone. midoriya’s always attached to her hip wherever she goes.” shoto commented, observing you and izuku walking shoulder to shoulder around the common area.

“he follows her around like a lost puppy, man. he’s totally down bad for her, am i right?” eijiro exclaimed, looking to katsuki for validation.

the blonde grumbled, “yeah, he’s liked her since middle school. y/n was the only person he hung out with.” he glared at seeing the two of you together, believing you were wasting your potential. why were you hanging out with someone like deku?

you took short and slow strides down the hallway, next to izuku. he matched your pace quite easily, always keeping track of where you were and what you were doing, and exactly how. he ranted about his quirk and how he needed to figure out new ways to use it, as he claimed his abilities weren’t so widely ranged.

but you disagreed. he could work on his quirk, there was always room to improve, but he had many abilities. it was clear just based on the surprise attack the day before. you and the green-haired boy were walking down the street when someone walked into a building, threatening to bomb the place and kill everyone in it if they didn’t receive money.

the two of you quickly flew into action, with him jumping onto the attacker’s back and helping all the civilians outside while you dismantled the bomb. even when he was sure all of the civilians were out of the building, he worried about you. as soon as he knew the civilians were safe, he ran up to your floor. once you stated you were done with dismantling the bomb, he immediately crushed you with a hug. he was always scared that something would happen to one of you. many heroes died with guilt, wanting to thank or spend time with their loved ones more. izuku didn’t want to make that mistake.

so he followed you around, nearly everywhere. not in a stalker-ish manner, but in an admirable way. you were the second person he looked up to the most. how could he stay away from you and not try to form a friendship, at least, when you were so perfect? you were beautiful, had the best personality, flawless with your quirk, and stuck up for him back in middle school! you were one of the only people who hung out with him, and he adored you for that. you knew it too.

as soon as you would walk into the classroom, izuku would nearly jump out of his seat to greet you. he’d disrupt anything just to say hi or start a conversation with you, he even heard your footsteps outside a room, where he was talking to all might, and ran to the door to hug you.

if you were going to a store or cute bakery, he’d tag along, wanting to know what you normally got in case he wanted to give you a gift. if you went to the bathroom for a split second while studying, he’d sit on the wall next to the door and wait for you to come out. sometimes, when you took a shower, he would sit on the counter or toilet and work on his own thing, whether it was homework or ranting to you about something.

attachment issues, much?

but you didn’t think too much of it. he was just a bit clingy, but you didn’t mind any second of it. in fact, you leaned more towards him, and began to glue yourself to his hip wherever he went. it was obvious he liked you, as he knew, but he was oblivious to the fact that you knew he liked you.

you took advantage of that by teasing him relentlessly and without mercy, of course.

hope u guys like this one!! i had a fun time writing this haha

[frflyavenue]

Exam Stress - Matz ver.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Matz x Stressed!Uni student!Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) — Stressed reader, sleep deprived reader, university exam season, crying, eating, fluff and smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, m receiving, f giving), vaginal sex, spit-roast, threesome smut, slight power dynamic, soft dom!Hongjoong, switch!Seonghwa, lots of praise

Author’s Note: Giving you guys this update early as compensation for not posting anything on Tuesday—First time writing smut, so let me know what you guys think! UYT chapter 3 still on track to be updated tomorrow <3

WC: 5.1k

School sucks. You’re a great student, one of the best performing in your major, and, according to your boyfriends, the hardest working person they’ve ever seen. You’re positive they’re just gassing you up because they love you, but you’re happy that your work is at least recognized. But it’s getting towards the end of the semester, meaning the whole University is filled with students working overtime. Exams are just around the corner, major essays and projects are being finalized and the party hubs of the city have died down as students rush to get their grades up enough to pass. You’re doing well in your classes, of course, but the end of the semester is always a rough time.

You’ve been working non-stop for the last few weeks, studying for your exams and trying desperately to finish your thesis paper for one of your classes. You lost count of how many hours you’ve worked in the library over the last few days, staying until they close around midnight and going home just to keep working. And while you’ve been able to handle the stress and exhaustion, today it all seemed to come to a head.

You haven’t slept more than a total of 10 hours the last four days, and you haven’t eaten nearly enough to sustain yourself. But honestly, the hormones from the stress were enough to suppress your hunger, so you didn’t pay it much attention. You’re exhausted, honestly, yearning to lay down in bed or even just curl up and sleep on the floor of the library, desperate for rest. But you don’t have time. You huff, slamming your laptop shut, earning a few glances from the other students working the library. You don’t dare look at them, stuffing your laptop in your bag with a sigh. You snatch it up and turn to leave, completely silent as you drive yourself to your apartment.

You fumble with your keys lazily as you try to open the door, finally sighing as it squeaks open. You slip into the apartment, taking off your shoes at the door and heading to the bedroom you share with your two boyfriends. Seonghwa, hearing you, turns around with a warm smile to greet you.

”Hey darling, welcome home. We missed you.”

You look up at him, but the second you see his warm expression, you feel your throat tighten, so you quickly look away. “Ah, yeah, I missed you guys too.” You clear your throat. “I have to work on my paper, so I’m gonna go work for a bit.” You don’t wait for him to respond to walk away to the solace of your bedroom.

Seonghwa walks with his mouth slightly agape as you turn your back to him, not able to say anything. Almost immediately after he gathers his thoughts, he rushes over to the living room, where Hongjoong is splayed out on the couch working on a song. He gently tap his shoulder, and Hongjoong removes one side of the headphones to hear.

”Joongie… I think something’s wrong with our Y/N.” He says worriedly, and Hongjoong snaps his eyes up from the screen to look at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Seonghwa runs his hand through his hair, clearly worried. “She came in so quiet, and her face seemed so tired… she hardly acknowledged me when she walked in.”

Hongjoong’s expression grows thoughtful, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. Your recent stress hasn’t gone unnoticed by your two boyfriends for the last few weeks. They’ve watched your eyes grow more and more tired every passing day, and while they’ve tried their best to bring you little snacks or cheer you up with little kisses to your temple when you’ve been working for a while, they’ve mostly let you to your work, not wanting to disturb you. But for Seonghwa to be this concerned now… Hongjoong trusts his boyfriend in thinking that something’s wrong. “Okay… why don’t you go talk to her, hm? I don’t want to overwhelm her with both of us, but I want to check on her.”

Seonghwa hesitantly nods, and Hongjoong presses a comforting kiss to his forehead before letting him go visit you.

You hardly register the knock at the door until it creaks open, and you freeze up, looking over at him with wide, guilty eyes. There are tears streaming down your face, your nose running and your sleeves wet from wiping your eyes. Seeing him, with his beautiful, elegant face twisted in concern taking in the sight of you, you only feel worse. You turn away, desperately attempting to dry your tears as he approaches. You hiccup helplessly as he turns the office chair around so you’re facing him, optnig to hide your face in your hands.

Seonghwa steps closer so he’s standing between your legs, gently pulling you into him. You let your face, still covered by your hands, lean into his stomach, feeling one hand resting protectively on your back while the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb rubbing comforting cicely into your hair. Almost immediately, you let go to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face deeper into his tummy and sobbing against his hoodie.

Seonghwa feels himself tear up at the sound, his voice softly shushing you while he cradles your head against his body. He doesn’t move, holding you just like that, not planning to ever let you go.

Hongjoong, hearing the gut-wrenching sound from the other room, sneaks into the room, standing behind Seonghwa and rubbing his back. The taller man is blinking back tears, his hands holding you close to him as you let out pitiful sobs of frustration and exhaustion, sounds he’s never heard from you in the two years you all had been dating. Hongjoong, too, feels his throat tighten, distracting himself by silently comforting Seonghwa in the meantime. The three of you remain like until the sound of sobs dies down to sniffles, and Hongjoong moves to kneel next to your chair. He places a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing there.

”Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, gently easing your hands down for you to look at him. You do, your swollen eyes meeting his. “Hey… there she is…” His voice is soft and quiet, almost as if he’s talking to a kitten. You're grateful for it, the sound not overwhelming your mind.

You snuffle, leaning into his hand when he moves to cup your cheek. “I-I’m sorry…” you squeak out, and he immediately shakes his head, shushing you.

“No, no ‘sorry’. I can speak for both of us when I say that Seonghwa and I want you to be happy. But part of that means taking care of you when you’re sad, hm?” He just watches you for a moment, gently holding your face in his hands as he kneels in front of you. “…What’s the matter babydoll?”

You close your eyes and try to clear your blurry eyes, opening them again to look down at his loving face. “I… I just got frustrated.” You explain, your voice wobbling pitifully. “I’m so tired, and I have so much to do. But I feel stuck on this stupid paper, and I have to finish it, and…” You trail off, your throat burning as tears slip silently down your delicate cheeks and onto Hongjoong’s delicate hands.

Hongjoong nods, gently wiping the little drops of water away with his thumb, not breaking his gaze. “It’s okay, we’ve got you now. We’re going to go take a break, baby.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but Seonghwa shushes you before you can say anything. “No, no, he’s right Y/N. You need to eat and take a break, or you wont be able to get anything done anyways.” He pauses. “My mom always used to tell me that productivity is subjective. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break, eat some good food, and get some sleep. Right now, that’s exactly what would be most productive to you, understand?” His voice is gentle but firm, and his tone gives you no choice but to tentatively agree.

Hongjoong smiles proudly up at Seonghwa, dropping his hands from your face and standing up, offering his hand to you. You take it, letting him pull you up. You sigh longingly as Hongjoong closes your laptop shut, and Seonghwa places a guiding hand on your back as he walks you three to the living room.

While it pains you to step away from your work, you immediately feel relieved as Seonghwa pulls you with him onto the couch, instinctively finding your position on his chest as he lay down with his head resting on the cushy armrest. His hand tangles in your hair, the other rubbing your back up and down in slow, repetitive motions. The steady thumping of heart under your cheek is enough to make you come undone, and your shoulders relax.

Smiling fondly at the sight, Hongjoong sits next to your tangled bodies, opening his phone. “We’re ordering in tonight. What are you feeling, pretty girl?”

The corners of your lips twitch up, though you don’t bother to open your blissfully closed eyes. “Pasta?” You respond, the thought of noodles making your mouth water.

Hongjoong laughs and pats your butt affectionately, ordering you guys a few of your favorite pasta dishes to share.

In the meantime, Seonghwa struggles with the remote, trying to put on a cute animated movie to cheer you up. Finally figuring out what buttons to press, he finds a selection of studio ghibli movies and let you take your pick. Hongjoong calls in to order the food while the two of your start the movie, and as soon as he’s done, he walks back over to the couch. You turn around so you’re laying on your back against Seonghwa’s chest, his arms wrapping around your waist while you reach your arms out to Hongjoong. He smiles brightly before climbing into your arms, laying with his head resting on the soft pillows on your chest and his arms joining Seonghwa’s around your waist. Content to be between both of them, you sigh.

It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks. Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling steadily against your back, Hongjoong snuggled up close to you, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair, the soft strings of the ghibli movie—it was perfect. When you drift off, hands resting limp and calm against Hongjoong’s back and hair and head resting comfortably back against Seonghwa’s happily beating heart… your boys can’t help but feel the same.

NSFW content following the cut ———

You awake groggily at the sudden loss of the comfortable weight on your chest, grumbling at the cold air hitting your front. You open your eyes, Seonghwa giggling lovingly at your state from behind you and Hongjoong nowhere to be seen. You pout, looking around.

”He’s getting our food.” Seonghwa explains softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. You nod, not bothering to move as you hear Hongjoong open the front door and thank the delivery person. He returns with a slight grin, holding up the bag of food victoriously.

You smile, sitting up and moving to get up off the couch. Seonghwa clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction, pulling you back to stay. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You giggle, wriggling weakly in his grasp. “To the table? To go eat dinner?” You respond, your voice already containing more of it’s usual happiness.

Hongjoong laughs and shakes his head, his eyes making pretty crescents. “No, silly, we’re gonna eat in the living room today. It’s treat.”

You gasp, turning to look at Seonghwa. Usually, he’s the one scolding you and Hongjoong about your cleaning and organizational habits, always keeping you both in check. So for him to be letting you eat in the living room…

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but his grin never leaves his face as he gently lest go and helps Hongjoong unpack the food onto the coffee table. You gasp excitedly, sitting crisscrossed on the floor in front of the couch. Seonghwa ruffles your hair before going to making the three of you bowls of pasta.

The food is delicious, of course. You hum with satisfaction, not remembering the last time you ate a proper meal. Sure, pasta isn’t the healthiest meal, but it sure does hit the spot after not eating anything but protein snacks and the random fruits your concerned boyfriends brought you every once and a while. They seem to notice, not taking their eyes off you as you go silent to eat, eagerly slurping up pasta. Proud to see you feeling better, they also find that the food is especially good—maybe just because you look so happy eating it.

You listen intently as Hongjoong talks about the songs he’s working on, never having felt so happy just to hear him ramble as you are now. Seonghwa is silent, too focused on his food, but he occasionally bumps your shoulders with his legs, still sitting on the couch as you sit on the floor between his legs. It’s been so long since you’ve all gotten to just sit and eat together, between the weird schedule of your classes and studying for finals, Hongjoong’s production, and both of the boys' dance practices. Looking at Hongjoong’s happy face and gently rubbing Seonghwas calf as it cages protectively around your form, you feel yourself tearing up.

”I missed you guys.” You whisper in a beat of silence, taking another bite of pasta to counteract the sentimental tears forming. Hongjoong looks up at you, giving you a delicate smile. Seonghwa sets his bowl down, gently massaging your shoulders as he, also, tries not to cry, not wanting to make you upset.

”We missed you too, babydoll.” Hongjoong replies, and Seonghwa squeezes your shoulder as well in emphasis. He looks thoughtful for a moment, before clearing his throat and setting his bowl down. “Y/N?”

You look up, swallowing your big bite of pasta before responding. “Hm?”

Hongjoong laughs softly, before shaking his head and scooting closer to you, gently taking your hand and holding it in his lap. “Hwa and I love you so much. We never ever want to see you so stressed, yeah? We understand that you have a lot to do—we’re in a similar position a lot of the time. But… just like how you make sure to take care of us when we’re feeling overwhelmed, we want to take care of you too.”

You blink, taken off guard by his sudden seriousness. Senoghwa gently reaches around to tuck your hair back behind your ear. “He’s right. It’s okay to get frustrated, stressed, tired… even just sad. But it’s not okay to completely isolate yourself from everyone around you and push yourself past what your body and mind can handle.” He adds, gently combing through your hair with his fingers. He’s right, you realize. Unknowingly, you had been avoiding your friends and even your two beloved boyfriends, hiding in the library to avoid coming home and staying cooped up in your bedroom at every opportunity under the pretense of discipline. Seonghwa’s words from earlier echo in your mind. Productivity is subjective… Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break…

You nod slowly, setting your own bowl down. “Yeah… you guys are right,” you admit with a slight look of guilt. “I’ve probably been stressing myself out more than necessary because I’ve been getting so frustrated.” You explain, earning a nod from Hongjoong. You continue. “And… I promise from now on, I’ll rely a little more on you guys. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You meet Hongjoong’s eyes and gently squeeze Seonghwa’s calf, and they coo.

”Such a sweet thing…” Seonghwa praises, squishing your cheek even from his odd position behind you. You blush, suddenly shy, and Hongjoong laughs, lightly hitting Seonghwa’s thigh. The three of you go quiet for a minute, the air lighter.

Interrupting the silence, Hongjoong clears his throat, looking up at you. “Y/N?”

You nod, giggling at his tone. “What? You’ve said my name like that twice already, it’s so cute~”

Hongjoong scoffs and nearly argues, but his blush creeps up his face before he can rebut. He shakes his head. “I’m being serious here!”

You and Seonghwa laugh, but you quickly shake your head and squeeze his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead, honey.”

He blushes at the nickname, his personal favorite from you, and clears his throat again. “Well, Hwa and I were talking while you napped, and we wanted to ask if you’d like to let us take care of your stress for you tonight? You know, help you relax a bit..?”

You smile, shaking your head innocently. “No, I’m sorry. There’s not really much you guys can do, my paper is built off of research I’ve been doing all semester. I appreciate the offer, of course, but I should really just write it on my own.”

Hongjoong blinks. He’s known you for a long time, but he will never not be astounded by how your sweet, dense brain works. He laughs in shock. “Hah… geez, Y/N… for somebody so smart, you sure are slow.” He says, and Seonghwa coughs back a laugh before pretending to scold him. You tilt your head.

”Uh… sorry?”

Hongjoong shakes your head, and Seonghwa moves to sit on the floor with you guys, feeling awkward not being able to see your face.

“No, not like that my dear.” He explains. He gently takes your hand and presses it to his lips. “We want to take you to bed, our love. It’s been a while since we could take care of you, hm?”

Your face heats up immediately. Seonghwa has always been the best of you three at initiating this kind of intimate affection, so it shouldn’t come at any surprise. But even after sleeping with your boyfriends hundreds of times… they only get sexier You subconsciously press your thighs together.

Seonghwa just chuckles at your cute reaction, standing up and grabbing the trash from your dinner. “Think it over while I clean dinner up, hm?”

You watch with your mouth slightly agape as he takes the trash to the bin in the kitchen, stunned silent. You turn to look at Hongjoong, who tucks your hair back affectionately.

”Kiss me?” You whisper suddenly, looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes.

Hongjoong smiles softly at your request, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can access your lips. He kisses you softly, his plush lips molding naturally against yours. He turns his head to the side after just a moment, gently licking at your bottom lip, and you part your lips to grant him access. He eagerly intrudes your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand slowly comes up to rest on your waist, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt and rubbing easy circles over the smooth, delicate skin there. You hum into his mouth and rest your hands on his shoulders for support, desperate to taste more. It’s been a long time, you realize, since you’ve done anything like this with your boyfriends. You’ve missed it.

Seonghwa returns, raising an eyebrow at the sight and sitting on the side of the couch, opting to just watch for a little while. He knows he’ll get his turn.

Sure enough, Hongjoong pulls away just for a moment at seeing Seonghwa sit down, leaving you whining. He clicks his tongue.

”Tsk tsk… patience babydoll. Lie down on the couch for me, hm?”

You nod and quickly position yourself comfortably on the couch, happy when Hongjoong climbs over top of you and continues kissing you. To your dismay, he refuses giving you entrance back into his mouth, instead moving to press slow, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You breathe heavier at the sensation, letting out shameless little gasps and whimpers when he nips sensitive parts of your neck. Almost too swift to notice, Hongjoong slides his hands up under your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one smooth motion before crawling downward to kiss your collarbone, lingering around the straps of your bra. Just before you feel yourself growing impatient, he unclips the fabric barrier as if reading your thoughts, gently sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your soft breasts.

He exhales in wonder at the beautiful sight, reaching one hand up to gently palm at the flesh there. “God, baby… how could I have ever forgotten how much I missed these pretty things, hm?”

You blush shyly at his praises, his tone of voice one that always gets you in a space ready and wanting to please. You arch your back impatiently, the cold air leaving you desperate for their touch. Hongjoong smiles, letting you get away with it for now and leaning down to gently take the soft flesh of your breast into his mouth.

You gasp slightly as his tongue caresses the bud of your breast, comforted with the feeling of his mouth tenderly kissing the plush skin there. You pet his hair in return, and Seonghwa reaches a hand up to rub Hongjoongs back encouragingly, fond of watching his lovers feeling good.

After a few minutes of getting you slowly more and more needy from Hongjoongs touches, Seonghwa finally moves to tug at the waist of your pants, easing them down your thighs and folding them neatly on the other side of the couch. He repositions himself to be propped on his elbows between your thighs, and you shiver when you recognize the position. His breath brushes against the heat between your thighs as he leans forward, turning his head to suck at the skin of you plush thighs. He gently kneads the soft flesh under his hands, slowly easing your thighs further apart as he inches up closer to where you need him. You roll your hips forward, desperate.

Seonghwa smiles, finally leaning forward and licking a fat stripe from your leaking entrance up to your clit, stopping there to suck on the bundle of nerves there. You gasp at the sudden stimulation, arching your back into his tongue and earning a delicious hum from him. “God, you taste so good…” Seonghwa moans into your dripping folds. He rolls his tongue expertly over the now erect bud while Hongjoong switches to sucking small marks into your collarbone, the combination sending you reeling.

When Seonghwa suddenly slides two fingers inside of you, you finally let out a full moan, earning a smile from both men. Hwa’s fingertips brush against the perfect spot inside, and combined with his tongue messily lapping up your juices and Hongjoongs attention back on your breasts, you nearly cum on the spot.

Hongjoong places a hand on Seonghwa’s head, signaling for him to stop.

You pant as you come down from the edge. “I want more,” you manage to get out in between breaths, looking up at Hongjoong.

He chuckles. “Such a needy little thing, hm?” You pout, and he giggles, finding you cute. “Bend over the side of the couch.” Seonghwa glances over at him with surprise at his suddenly domineering tone. Hongjoong just shrugs. “If our baby wants it so bad, then let’s give it to her. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how naughty our girl is, hm?”

Seonghwa glances over at you with concern, wanting to make sure it’s really what you want. He doesn’t have to worry for long, though, since you’re already scrambling to bend over with your elbows propped up on the armrest of the couch. He lets out a surprised laugh. “God, Joong. Maybe I did forget.”

Hongjoong smirks, his adoring eyes raking over your submissive position. “Seonghwa, tell me baby, do you want her pussy or her mouth? You get first pick today.”

The pretty man needs no time to decide. “Can I please get her pussy today, Joongie?”

Hongjoong nods and presses a sweet kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “Of course you can, love. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

While you can’t see them talking behind you in your current position, the way they talk to each other alone makes you blush. The three of you all love each other so much, there’s no doubt about it. And even when Hongjoong takes over a more dominant role, he’s never really mean, making sure his partners know that his priority is always taking care of them. You smile softly, in your thoughts, when you feel Seonghwa climb on the couch behind you.

You grip the arm of the couch in anticipation. Seonghwa presses the head of his dick against your folds, rubbing it along your clit and spreading your love juices around. You drop your head at the feeling, biting back a moan. When he finally slides in, though, you can’t help but groan out his name, pushing your hips back against him until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Hongjoong hums in satisfaction as he watches, reaching to rub comforting circles on the smooth skin of your back. “Deep breaths, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod immediately, a little too eager. “Y-yes…” You hiss.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Good girl. Seonghwa, baby, don’t move until I tell you to.” Seonghwa groans but agrees nonetheless. Hongjoong walks around to the side of the couch where you’re facing, cupping your jaw. “Stick out your pretty tongue for me.”

You obey, parting your lips quickly and letting your tongue drop out for him, too far gone to be embarrassed about how much saliva you’re producing. He bites his lip, stroking his fully erect length in front of your face, giving you the most perfect view. When he finally rubs the bulbous head of his pretty cock against your tongue, you hum. He doesn’t do much more for a while, leaving both you and Seonghwa, who is essentially just being cockwarmed, impatient. But just before you lose your composure and ask hm outright to just fuck your throat, he finally slides his length into your mouth.

You eagerly wrap your lips around him, tightening them expertly and sliding your tongue over the underside of his pretty length, making him roll his eyes back.

“Hon- ah god… you’re so good, baby. So perfect-“ He pants, placing a hand on the back of your head and bottoming out in your throat. While he isn’t quite as long as Seonghwa, you’ve always thought that his dick fits perfectly in your mouth. Just enough to make you feel full without causing any painful gagging. You hum around him, and he finally breaks. “Oh god- Hwa, baby, move… I don’t know how long I can last…”

Seonghwa doesn’t have to be asked twice. Without warning, he starts thrusting in and out of you firmly, holding onto your waist for support. You gasp, not caring about volume anymore as he pounds into you, each thrust calculated and firm. Hongjoong can feel you rocking from Seonghwa’s relentless pace, and he lets out a low groan, holding tightly onto a fistful of your hair. “Babydoll, can I fuck your throat? P-please?”

You blink up at him expectantly in response, and he tilts his head back as he finally slides slowly in and out of your mouth.

Hongjoong slowly begins to fuck your mouth, savoring every inch as he watches your throat stretch around him. His hand remains steady on the back of your head, but he never pushes further than you can take—he knows your limits too well. Your eyes water slightly from the fullness, but the way both your boyfriends are moaning, praising you, touching you, has your arousal spiking all over again.

Behind you, Seonghwa is groaning softly under his breath, his thrusts now faster, deeper, his hips snapping into yours with growing desperation. “Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he pants, leaning forward to press kisses to your spine as he grinds into that sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel how close he is by the way his movements get a little sloppier.

“God, she’s dripping, Hwa,” Hongjoong murmurs with a breathless laugh, hips stuttering forward as you suck him harder, slurping around his cock like it’s the only thing you need. “Our baby’s soaking you.”

Seonghwa lets out a shaky whine, the sound sending heat straight to your core. “I—fuck, Joongie, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong growls through his teeth, voice tight with restraint. “Wait for her. Baby,” he coos down to you, pulling slowly out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Do you wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, voice hoarse with need. “P-please—I’m so close…”

“Then do it,” Seonghwa chokes out, slamming into you just right as he reaches around to rub quick circles on your clit. “Cum for us, baby. Let us feel you.”

It takes nothing more. Your orgasm crashes over you, thighs shaking as you scream out their names, walls clenching around Seonghwa’s cock in desperate pulses. He gasps, loud and broken, and finally lets go, spilling inside you with a deep, satisfied groan, hips grinding into you to ride it out. His head drops between your shoulder blades, breath hot and fast.

The sight of his two lovers feeling so good is enough for Hongjoong. He jerks himself off over your tongue, the pace of his fist desperate and sloppy. He jerks forward, trembling as he cums in front of you, thick spurts of release painting your tongue. You swallow up every drop on instinct, humming softly as he pants and wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, utterly dazed.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of your shared, panting breaths. Seonghwa slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you, and places a tender kiss to the curve of your lower back before helping you back onto the couch properly.

You collapse back onto Seonghwa chest, arms wide open for Hongjoong as he makes his way back around to the seat of the couch.

“Holy shit,” you mutter with a breathless laugh as Hongjoong climbs in next to the two of you, placing a loving hand on your thigh.

Hongjoong kisses your forehead, smiling contentedly. “We’ve really missed this.”

Seonghwa hums his agreement against your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You smile, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally catches up with you. “Me too,” you whisper, yawning. Wrapped between your two lovers, bodies warm and sticky and pressed together, it’s hard not to feel sleepy.

The two men notice with fond expressions, glancing at each other.

Seonghwa kisss your cheek. “Alright, love, let’s go get you cleaned up. Something tells me it’s bedtime.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding.

“I love you guys.”

[moonstruckme]

im literally in lovee with your writing of sirius black id love love love more of him x reader pleasee [my favourite is friends to lovers or just being super domestic but tbh I'd read anything u write with him in lmaoo]

Thank you for requesting lovely! It worked out that I'd just written this when I got your ask, so I hope it fits what you're wanting!

cw: reader has hair long enough to tie back

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 833 words

Sirius finds you out behind Remus’ house, sitting in the grass and, by all appearances, playing with mud. 

“Hey there,” he says, “did you manage to find the bathroom?” 

You have a tendency to wander off. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes you get lost, and Sirius can never tell which is happening at any given time. As much as he’d like to tie a string between you so you’re never very far, he’s learned to let you go where you will; you always end up where you want to be anyways. 

“You were talking about football,” you say by way of answer, the slightest hint of sheepishness in your sweet voice. “I thought you wouldn’t mind if I went off for a bit.” 

Sirius hums and lowers himself onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out. The sun is warm and welcome on his face, just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. 

It’s a beautiful day, you’d noted upon waking up this morning, already opening the windows in his bedroom. 

Looks like it, Sirius said from bed. He smiled wryly. It’ll probably be the last decent one we have all year.

You’d frowned. That’s not a very nice way to manifest the weather. 

While Sirius is upturned, you’re bent over, messing with something in your hands and dipping your fingers occasionally into a pail of water. 

“What’ve you got there, pretty girl?” 

“A mug,” you say simply. You thumb concentratedly at the slimy thing in your hands, lips pursing. “Or, a soon-to-be-mug.” 

“And you’re making it out of…mud?” 

“No,” you laugh, looking up at your boyfriend in that fond, indulgent way you have. Like he can be so silly sometimes. “Remember how Remus said there was clay by the stream back that way? I’m using some of that.” 

“Ah.” Sirius tilts his head, studying the misshapen lump in your hands. “I see. And this is going to be a drinking mug?” 

You hum in affirmation, and he leaves it at that. He’s not terribly sure whatever you end up with will be able to hold water, but he knows better than to try and dissuade you once you’ve set your mind to something. Maybe he can sign the both of you up for a pottery class sometime. 

A piece of hair falls from behind your ear, and you blow at it, trying to keep it out of your face with your hands occupied.

“Here,” Sirius offers. He takes an elastic off his wrist, gathering the hair away from your face and tying it back loosely the way you like it. 

You gift him a sideways smile in return. A bit of dried clay on your cheek cracks with the movement. Evidently, this isn’t the first time you’ve had to push your hair back. “Thank you.” 

“Baby,” he says, voice laden with fondness. He steadies your face with one hand, swiping at the clay with the other. “You’ve got it all over you.” 

It’s true. It covers your hands up past your wrists, and several places on your legs have pale gray tracks where you’ve wiped your fingers off on them. 

“It’s a messy business,” you say matter-of-factly, “but it dries sort of pretty, I think. Do you want some?” 

He cocks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?” 

You set your soon-to-be-mug down gingerly, extending a hand to him. “Give me your arm.” 

Sirius suppresses a sigh. He didn’t really plan on getting dirty today, but he’s hardly in the habit of denying you anything you ask for. He sets his forearm in your hand. 

You dip a finger into the wettest part of your clay, setting it to the skin above his wrist. Your touch is cool and slick on his sun-warmed skin. You draw a little star like you’re fingerpainting, the clay a funny contrast to the dark tattoos surrounding it. 

You look so pleased with your work that Sirius can’t help himself. He leans forward, giving you a drawn-out, amorous kiss. 

“Thank you,” he says in his most saccharine voice. 

Your lashes flutter prettily as you blink, a rare shy smile taking you. “You’re welcome.” 

Sirius dips two fingers into your pail of water, using them to wipe the remaining clay off your cheek more thoroughly. When he’s done, he spots another smudge on your shoulder, inexplicable. He tsks. “When you’re done with your mug, we might have to ask Remus if you can use his shower, lovely girl. You really do have it all over you.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to trouble him,” you say airily. “The stream’s not very far, and it’s flowing rather quickly with all the rain we’ve been having.” 

He blinks. “Did you bring your swimsuit?”

You look at him bemusedly. “No. Why?” 

Sirius bends his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain to conceal his smile as he kisses the clean part of your shoulder. “I think it’d be better if you used Remus’ shower, sweetheart. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

[swanimagines]

Hi! Could you write a short Eddie Munson x reader blurb where it's just morning cuddles and kisses in his bed 🥺 Please and thank you!

A/N: Makeout scenes always feel weird to write to me, but I did my best haha 😅

GOOD MORNING METALHEAD

When the first flickers of light penetrated through the windows of Eddie’s trailer, it illuminated your and Eddie’s sleeping bodies. Tangled in blankets and in each other’s bodies, his bed far too small for two people, but you still, somehow, had managed to fit.

You were the one stirring first, squinting to make sense of the alarm clock beside you and groaned — you should get up within fifteen minutes and leave for school. At least, if you wanted to take care of your hygiene before leaving.

You turned your head to look at your sleeping boyfriend and sighed, lifting yourself up to your forearms. You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and stared at his face for a moment. You knew you should get up already, your teachers already weren’t thinking too fondly of you two as you had lost the track of time and (more or less accidentally) skipped classes because of making out somewhere.

But you just couldn’t help it, looking at Eddie’s face, laying there, in warmth… it just always pulled you towards staying with him and pushing your responsibilities back for him. Someone might say he’s bad company because of that, but it was really just teenage love.

“Mm, you’re staring at me,” he suddenly murmured, making you flinch slightly and sit up straighter.

“I didn’t know you’re awake.”

He opened his eyes a crack. “I had the most amazing dream,” he murmured, blinking at you lazily. “I was in my bed with a literal angel.”

You pouted. “Disappointed it’s just me?”

He snorted. “Why would I be disappointed? My dream turned out to be better than reality.”

You felt yourself blushing and bit your lower lip. “You’re such a sap.”

He shifted, raising himself up a little to lean his head on his hand, before he grinned. “Only for you, baby.”

You were quiet for a moment, just basking in the morning warmth, before you sighed. “We should really get up.”

He pouted. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

“I wouldn’t, unless we weren’t an inch away from failing in our classes again.”

He flopped back down onto his bed, pulling you against him. “Eh, we still have our whole lives ahead of us. Being left on class won’t hurt just yet.”

You didn’t argue with that, even though you knew that way of thinking was madness. But you couldn’t help but think how in his arms, your grades didn’t really matter.

You felt his lips trailing down your jaw, so you tilted your head to return the affection, kissing the corner of his mouth before he pressed his lips against yours. Soon, you had rolled over, your lips moving together and you were giggling every time you parted. You threw your other leg across his while his hand trailed up and down your bare back, slightly pulling you closer.

It was always as addicting, kissing with him. Time always seemed to fly by, which wasn’t always a good thing, but you at least pretended not to care.

It took a while, and your positions changed at least ten times before you finally parted to glance at the clock again.

The school was starting in twenty minutes, no chance of making it in time. You groaned and flopped back against the pillow. “Shit. We should really stop doing this.”

Eddie snorted again. “Kiss each other stupid each morning you’re over? Not a chance.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I sound like I’m nagging, but it’s really messing with our school and possibly our future through that. Teachers aren’t going to take ‘our lips were glued together for an hour, sorry’ for an explanation.”

He hummed, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Let’s make up another explanation, an acceptable one, and make out for one hour more?”

You should have said no. Everything in you screamed a no. It wouldn’t be a good idea.

But, as expected, you were in his arms half an hour later too. Being late wasn’t that bad, at least if your stupid lovesick teenager brain was asked over your reasonable part of your brain…

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[yokedtablet]

Ellabs where Abby has comphet & Ellie clocks her & makes it her mission to make Abby realizes she likes girls (& Abby is extremely attracted to her & struggling to maintain her “heterosexuality” 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

I may have gone a little bit off-track from your original request, anon! This is less “Ellie makes it her mission” and more “Ellie is a dumbass who happens to be in the direct path of Abby’s downward spiral," but hopefully it’s still close to your idea. Thank you so much for the request, I loved writing it!!

Wanna Be Yours

Contents: college au, loser!Ellie, rugby captain!Abby, comphet, slow(ish) burn, platonic dellie, drugs and alcohol, Abby is having a crisis, gay panic, first times, explicit sex (a lot), light choking, dom/sub overtones (d!Ellie, s!Abby), spitting, praise wc: 5.1k (I got carried away)

It’s the hottest day of the year, and Ellie and Dina are lying out on the quad on a floral bedsheet (Dina’s), sweating, pretending to study. Well, Dina might actually be studying. 

Ellie, instead, is watching the rugby captain across the quad under a cherry blossom. She’s lying on her stomach, frowning at the tiny book in her hands. (The book isn’t actually that tiny, just one of those mass market paperbacks, but the size of her hands makes it comically small). It would be sort of a breathtaking view, if not for the boyfriend beside her. 

Lounging lazily in a tank top and basketball shorts. 

Owen. 

He slides up next to her, brushing her long characteristic braid over her shoulder. Abby shrugs him off, eyes never leaving the page. 

“Let me guess.” Dina pokes her foot into Ellie’s ribs. “You’re picturing her on the floor of our dorm room in nothing but her jersey.”

“Gross. Shut up.” Ellie rolls onto her side, evading the attack. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it, Els.” 

Ellie just lets out a low groan, head sliding into the corner of her elbow, unable to think about anything but the heat—in more than one way. 

“She has a boyfriend.” A boyfriend she clearly hates, Ellie thinks. 

“And that’s such a big issue for you, right? Last semester—”

“Let’s not revisit that, please.” 

“I’m just saying,” Dina says, shrugging, “you’ve been a little bit of a nightmare lately. And—” she holds up a hand to stop Ellie’s argument—”I just think you might need to work some of that shit out. And obviously, we both have eyes. She’s hot.” Her eyebrows quirk upwards, and Ellie groans. 

Dina’s not wrong. She’s absolutely not wrong. It’s been months since Ellie last brought someone home. She’s been in a drought of massive proportions, bed-rotting and smoking in the dorm instead of going out, and Abby could definitely, definitely fuck her out of it.

If it weren’t for Owen. 

Abby’s gaze drifts from her book for just a moment. She glances around the quad, and her eyes dart just briefly toward Ellie and Dina. But definitely toward Ellie. And then she looks decisively away, burying her face in whatever she’s reading. Not exactly the look of someone who doesn’t care if they’re caught looking.

Ellie feels a stupid, hopeful heat race through her stomach. 

“There’s one other problem,” Ellie says. 

“Mhm?” Dina’s not really listening at this point, highlighting something in her textbook. 

“She actually hates my guts.”

“Yeah, well,” she doesn’t look up, “you’re very hateable.”

——

Abby hates Ellie for a good reason. She’ll admit that. Last semester they’d been paired up for a philosophy presentation, which Ellie forgot about pretty much immediately after getting the assignment. It wasn’t her fault; she’d lost her planner down a sewer grate by complete accident. 

She kept getting texts from this unknown phone number.

“Where R U???”

“Answer my text.”

“ELLIE WILLIAMS!!!”

Probably spam. Probably nothing important. 

Later, she blew smoke out of her dorm room window while swiping through Tinder. Mostly for entertainment, since she rarely actually met up with anyone from there. Mostly just to get a lay of the land.

And there she was. Mirror selfie in a sports bra, braid brushed over one shoulder, definitely flexing. Half-smiling. The second photo featured her with a dog. The third was a group photo. She looked just a little bit awkward in a skin-tight silver gown and heels, a full foot taller than everyone else. 

What the hell was Abby Anderson doing on lesbian Tinder?

Why did she look so fucking hot?

Ellie swiped right. They wouldn’t match, obviously. 

Before she could drop her phone, the notification pinged. One new match! She stared at it in disbelief, a thick dread coiling in her stomach. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That really wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Her fingers moved faster than her brain—a tactic she’d pretty much mastered over the years—typing out a message. Because this was impossible, and a little bit terrifying, and she was not going to miss out on this opportunity.

“Wyd tonight?” Slick, forward, nonchalant. 

Abby replied almost immediately. 

“Our philosophy assignment.” 

Her heart sank. Then the second message came through.

“Come over. Right now.”

She couldn’t exactly ignore it at this point. Still high and half-dazed, Ellie put on a clean pair of jeans and grabbed her backpack, and headed for Abby Anderson’s dorm.

If she’d expected anything besides a near-silent, brutally awkward study session, her hopes were quickly squashed. Abby did not mention the Tinder match. The next day, she was blocked anyway. The next week, Abby was dating Owen. The rest was history. 

—-

But Abby had been on lesbian Tinder. She had matched with Ellie. Whether that was a near-sociopathic ploy to get her to follow through on her end of the assignment, or some kind of genuine interest, Ellie isn’t sure. She does have her suspicions. 

She’s definitely not stalking Abby, she explains to Dina. She just happens to run into her kind of all over the place. Ellie’s rarely at the gym, but sometimes she’s skating outside while Abby is lifting. She’s sometimes holed up in the library—a place she would usually never find herself—while Abby studies. Sometimes she happens to be smoking at the bus stop when Owen picks Abby up from her dorm.

Owen. 

Abby’s not into him. She can tell. Some people aren’t into PDA, but Abby really doesn’t like it when he goes for her hand on the way to class, or kisses her outside of the dorms. Most of the time she seems genuinely annoyed with him. Then again, Abby seems to be annoyed with pretty much everyone. 

Except Dina. Because Dina is friendly with everyone, and now that she’s caught on about how Ellie is definitely not stalking her, definitely not pining in an uncharacteristically-Ellie way, she’s determined to grease the wheels. And now she has an invite to an off-campus rugby party that Abby will definitely be at, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t drag Ellie with her.

“I’m not going,” Ellie complains. “That’s not my crowd.”

“Who exactly is your crowd, then?” Dina asks, applying a tasteful amount of lip gloss. She doesn’t really need it. “The stoners?”

“Well, you, for one,” Ellie says, crossing her arms. She’s wearing a flannel over her tank top, and jeans that Dina says are torn in all the right places. “And the stoners.”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of weed there, dumbass,” Dina says. She grabs Ellie’s hand tightly and drags her out the door. 

——

The frat house is filled with smoke and sweaty bodies, and Ellie is four shots (and a couple of bong rips) deep. She lost Dina to the dance floor almost immediately. Despite Dina’s best efforts to yank her out of the safe periphery, Ellie hangs back against the precarious china cabinet in the dining room. She hasn’t even seen Abby once, and is pretty certain this whole thing is a bust. 

“Ellie, get out here!” She can make Dina out, just barely, poking her head in from the garage at the end of the hall. “Beer pong!”

“I’m good!” Ellie calls back, aware of the kitchen-dwellers turning to look at her. She gives an awkward nod. 

“What? I can’t hear you. Just come out here!” 

She groans. At least she'll be doing something with her hands. And she is, shockingly, very good at beer pong. 

She pushes down the hall—”sorry”—colliding with sweaty jock bodies, feeling more than a little off balance in the dim light. Someone turns around unexpectedly and she wheels, catching herself against a door. 

The door opens. 

The person on the other side of the door catches her. Throws her backward. Kind of hard. She hits the wall.

She can’t speak, partly because of the air that’s just been punched out of her lungs, and partly because she’s staring at Abby Anderson in a diabolically-tight t-shirt that’s riding up her hips. And her hair is down.

“Jesus,” Abby winces, recoiling. 

Her hair is down. Panic button! Ellie has never seen her with her hair down, and she thinks she probably never will again, because she’ll probably die right here on the spot. 

“Why are you fucking everywhere?” Abby says through clenched teeth.

Guilt wells up, a rotten feeling in her gut. “Dina invited me,” she says, stupidly.

Abby squeezes her eyes shut, combing a hand through her hair. “Shit. That’s… not what I meant.” Her face is flushed, and she looks incredibly, incredibly hot right now. 

Then Owen squeezes through the door. Fucking Owen. 

He maneuvers around Abby with a hand at her hip, which she draws away from. He looks between her and Ellie. He shrugs. “Okay, well, I’ll be around.” 

Suddenly the disheveled hair and the pushed-up shirt make a lot more sense. They’re also a lot less hot. Ellie feels that sticky, wrenching sensation she felt when her first real crush confessed to her that she’d kissed a boy, expecting Ellie to be happy for her. That delusional belief that she would be chosen, shattered. 

She hates the way it clings to her. She has to shrug it off. So when Owen’s gone, she decides to twist the knife—just a little. “Sheesh. Bad time?”

Abby squints at her. She looks like she’s trying to melt Ellie with her mind. 

Her silence forces a nervous laugh from Ellie. “I mean, that’s freshly-fucked hair if I’ve ever seen it.”

Abby pinches her temples. “God. I need another drink.”

She pushes past Ellie, and Ellie expects it to end there. But when Abby reaches the end of the hall, she looks back. She jerks her head toward the kitchen, and Ellie can’t really make out the emotion on her face. The meaning, though, is clear. Come on. 

So Ellie follows her. Lets Abby fill her red solo cup, and then her own. And then she’s following her outside into the dark backyard. 

She sits on damp grass. It’s much quieter, the sounds of the party muffled behind them. Abby drains her cup like she’s afraid it’ll run away from her. 

“You good?” Ellie asks. What an awful lead-in. Clearly, she’s not. But Ellie doesn’t know where she stands. Doesn’t know if she’s even supposed to be asking. 

Abby just stares ahead, apparently fascinated by the broken trampoline that’s tipped against the garage. “I wasn’t fucking him.”

Ellie chokes on her drink. 

Before she can come up with a smooth rebuttal—and really, what can you say to that?—Abby turns to look at her, eyes wild and dark in the moonlight. “Are you aware that you’re ruining my life?”

Ellie just stares, the words not registering. The idea that she is on Abby’s mind in any capacity—aside from the hate your guts variety—slaps her across the face. It tilts her off balance. 

“Abby, what?” It’s the first time she’s said Abby’s name to her face. It just slips. And then she’s laughing, laughing way too hard, because Abby’s expression is so genuine and hurt and confused. “What are you talking about? Because of the… philosophy thing?”

“Not because of that. Idiot.” It’s cutting, but there’s a shred of warmth there under the surface. Something else that Ellie can’t quite recognize, but that grabs her in the stomach and starts to twist. 

Ellie realizes how close they’re sitting together. She puts a hand out against Abby’s thigh, mostly to steady herself, mostly to get some distance, but it definitely does not have that effect. 

Because she feels Abby’s muscles tighten. She looks down at the hand and back up. Ellie’s pretty sure she couldn’t drag herself away if she tried. 

“Um—” Ellie’s voice catches in her throat. 

Abby kisses her.

Or maybe she kisses Abby. She’s not sure, and it doesn’t matter. It’s soft and awkward and tentative, like neither of them can fully believe that it’s happening. 

Fuck it.

Ellie slips a hand around the back of Abby’s neck, fingers rushing through long hair, pulling her closer. Kisses her harder. Kisses her like she wants to keep her there. Abby’s lips part and she lets out a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

They break apart. Magnets facing the wrong way. Ellie waits for her to recoil, waits for all the explaining—she’s heard it all before. I don’t really like girls, actually. I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Instead, Abby stands up. She’s not looking at Ellie. “I think I need to leave.” 

Ellie slowly pries herself off the ground, her skin racing with static. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Gonna get an Uber,” Abby mutters, taking out her phone. It’s dead. “Fuck. Give me yours.”

Ellie doesn’t really think about it. She doesn’t try to make sense of it. Because Abby is booking a ride from her phone, and she is apparently coming with her. 

They sit on the curb in silence. Ellie tries to think of the least inflammatory thing to say. “So, Owen—”

“Please don’t talk to me about Owen right now.”

“Mm. Got it.” Ellie’s trying really hard not to smile. She shouldn’t feel happy that Abby is having a full on crisis right now. The same Abby that just kissed her and doesn’t want to talk about her boyfriend. The same Abby she’s riding back to campus with. She’s trying and failing. “I just wanna make sure I’m not being, like, a homewrecker or something.”

Abby looks at her hard, almost glaring. “Do you think I’m going to sleep with you?”

“I mean—”

“That’s presumptuous.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it.”

She can’t really deny that. 

“I know you’re the… ‘hit it and quit it’ type,” Abby says. 

Ellie laughs, a little hurt. “I’m sorry, who told you that?”

Abby shrugs. “It’s known.”

“Fuck you.” Ellie leans into her, just briefly, a playful nudge. She feels Abby shiver against her. “For the record, I wasn’t really expecting anything.” Half lie and half truth. “I am down, though.”

Abby barks a little laugh. “You’re down?”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Okay, just, check where the Uber is.” 

——-

The ride back is just long enough for Ellie to start to panic. Abby is absolutely silent beside her, thigh flush with Ellie’s thigh, until they reach campus and she starts to give the driver directions to her dorm. 

Her dorm.

Oh, fuck. 

Abby doesn’t want to sleep with her. She’s made that pretty clear.

So why the fuck is she here? 

They get out, and Ellie’s feeling way too sober. It’s quiet on campus after 2 a.m. Abby thanks the driver and swings the door shut. 

Abby’s dorm looks pretty much the way she expected. Books stacked in organized heaps, a weight set next to her bed, family photos. Clothes strewn around, though nowhere near as bad as Ellie’s side of her room with Dina. A cork board with vacation photos, pictures of friends, surfing, pictures of dogs. Ellie looks for too long. 

Abby settles heavily onto her bed, just sits there quietly. 

Ellie paces, trying to release some nervous energy. In reality, she’d like to be jogging. She’d like to be full sprint away from this place, and she’d also rather be throwing herself at Abby on the bed, but she does neither. She picks up a rugby trophy that’s sitting on Abby’s desk. It’s heavier than she expects.

“Huh. Cool.”

“Sit down.”

Ellie sits beside her on the bed, legs swinging. She doesn’t dare look at the athlete beside her when she asks: “Abby, why am I here?”

The question hangs between them. Abby sucks in a breath, then resituates herself—legs crossed, facing Ellie on the bed. Ellie, reluctantly, turns to face her.

She’s not sure what she’s afraid of. Abby is the one who kissed her. Who confessed some deeply-repressed interest that Ellie genuinely had no clue about. But now this all feels very real, and the warmth twisting in Ellie’s gut isn’t just arousal. It’s something much more dangerous. 

Abby looks at her, eyes are wide and a little bit wet—but clear. “Kiss me again.” 

She says it half asking, half demanding. And Ellie doesn’t need to be told twice. 

This time there's heat. Urgency. Ellie grabbing at anything she can reach, yanking Abby closer. She’s aware of the desperate sounds that slip out of her, and the more grunting, wounded sounds Abby returns. 

Abby isn’t hesitant anymore. This time, she means it. 

They both tip backwards, and Abby’s head connects with the headboard with a heavy thunk. 

“Shit,” she winces, and Ellie thinks she looks insanely cute with her eyes scrunched up and her lip between her teeth. 

They’re both giggling, some of the tension diffused. Both still panting and close, but actually looking at each other now. Actually seeing. 

Abby, with her defenses down. That’s the most terrifying thing Ellie has seen tonight. 

Abby’s hands slip under the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt, just barely, and rest on her hips. She looks at her searchingly, and Ellie waits, gives her the chance for the thought to work its way to the surface. 

“Take this off. Please,” she says, flushing at her own request. 

Look at her, asking for what she wants. Ellie can’t help but grin. She also can’t help but notice the hungry way Abby eyes her as she pulls her shirt over her head. She’s wearing a black sports bra underneath—nothing fancy—but Abby looks like she could eat her. 

Because she’s feeling a little bit cocky, Ellie scoots back on the bed and slips off her jeans too. Tosses them somewhere on the floor. She sits there, all long legs and taut muscles that can’t compare to Abby’s. 

Abby’s eyes make meticulous work of every inch of skin, like she’s afraid it’s the last time she’ll see it. They settle between her thighs, on Ellie’s black panties. 

“Those too.”

“Seriously?” Ellie scoffs, but she’s already up off the bed. “Are you asking me to strip for you, Anderson? I think that’s a little bit unfair.”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She reaches over her shoulder and yanks at the collar of her t-shirt, peeling it off in one easy movement. All Ellie can do is stare. And salivate. And try not to look like a rabid animal.

She’s wearing a tan bra, a little bit worn and not at all sexy, which wouldn’t work on anyone but Abigail Anderson. It barely registers, because Ellie is too busy taking in the freckled curves of her muscles—the rise and fall of her collarbones with each shallow breath, the cruel definition of her abs, and worst of all—the thin trail of blonde hair that starts at Abby’s belly button and disappears below her waistband. 

Now that is truly unfair. 

Ellie strips off her bra and panties without much fanfare. She lets Abby look at her, but not long enough that she feels like some kind of specimen. Long enough, though, that as Ellie crawls back onto the bed, she knows Abby makes out the sheen of wetness between her thighs. 

Ellie nudges Abby to sit against the headboard—then settles into her lap. Abby makes a low, involuntary sound as Ellie’s wet cunt makes contact with the seam of her pants. She looks startled, wild, all of her taking on a pinkish tone. 

“I’ve never done this. I don’t know—” 

“M-don’t care.” Ellie pulls her into a deeper kiss. This one is selfish. This time taking from Abby exactly what she needs. More tongue. More need. She pulls a low moan from Abby’s throat. 

Abby’s hands find her waist, and her fingers sink in, hard enough to bruise. As she grinds down, Abby pulls her closer. Rocks her hips against Ellie’s.

It makes her lose her breath. Like missing the last step. Like falling headfirst without seeing the bottom.

They move like this, near silent aside from quiet gasps, the warmth of Abby’s tongue on her throat, until Ellie needs more from her. She works one of Abby’s hands free—with some difficulty—and guides it up to her breast.

Abby squeezes, palm wide and hot. Her breath comes quicker against Ellie’s neck. She runs her thumb over Ellie’s nipple, and Ellie jolts with arousal. 

“Need you to…” she shifts her hips, offering better access, and guides Abby’s hand downward.

Abby looks at her, almost pleading, and Ellie nods. Yes, there. 

Eyes wide and fluttering, her fingers dip with a tentative clumsiness. When they slip through Ellie’s heat, her face hardens with concentration—watching herself like she’s studying some kind of mathematical diagram. 

“Abby, look at me.” 

“Mhm.”

“Don’t think so hard.” She smiles, and the smile is quickly wiped away when Abby’s fingers find her clit, smoothing it between them.

Ellie collapses, open mouth on Abby’s shoulder. “Fuck. Yeah, like that.”

Slowly, Abby finds her pace—sliding down to her entrance, almost pressing inside, then withdrawing. Two fingers press even circles into her clit. She’s listening for Ellie’s breaths, finding the rhythm that makes her stiffen and whimper. 

“That's fucking— that's really good, Abs.” 

The praise sends a shudder through her, pressing up against Ellie's body, her fingers slipping carelessly. 

Oh. 

Ellie rolls her hips into Abby, hard. Her hand finds Abby’s neck, her jaw, pinning her back against the headboard. She can feel the heavy thud of Abby’s pulse against her fingertips, and she squeezes, just there, just enough. 

“You’re so fucking good for me, Abby.” 

Abby is flushed, sweat-slicked, lips slack. The moan that escapes her brings Ellie right to the edge. 

“Gonna make me—” She’s doing the work now, and she doesn’t care, her pace frantic, her wetness slicking Abby’s palm and wrist. 

Abby moans like she’s the one getting fucked. She moans just watching Ellie come apart, feeling her twitch and clench, feeling her start to shake and slow. 

They breathe into each other, quiet, for several minutes. Ellie’s thighs start to ache from straddling Abby’s wide hips, and she rolls herself off, collapsing to one side. She just looks up at her, head tipped back, lips swollen, fingers stroking her neck where Ellie’s had been.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt—? No.” And then she’s laughing, even though she’s still catching her breath. “Did you think you were hurting me?”

Ellie’s just a little bit offended. “Not, like, very much.”

Abby just shakes her head. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Maybe she will. She’s tired but not satisfied, because Abby’s still half-dressed, and she would torture herself for all eternity if she wasted this one opportunity to see Abby naked. That, and she guesses that Abby is far less composed than she looks under those tight canvas pants. 

Once she works them off of her and settles between Abby’s thighs, Ellie’s breath comes short.

“Holy fuck, Abby. This is what you've been hiding from me?” It's not like she’s never seen a pussy before. Nothing could surprise her anymore. Except, maybe, this. Tight blonde curls that Ellie could bury herself in frame thick lips, already shining and parted. The pink tip of her swollen clit peeking out. It twitches under her breath, and Ellie just about cums on the spot. 

She can tell Abby’s nervous being observed like this—watching Ellie carefully, lip pinched between her teeth. Trying hard not to move. “Are you just gonna look, or are you going to do something?” 

“Impatient,” Ellie teases. She runs her hands over Abby’s inner thighs, making her flex and sigh. “You need to relax.” 

She can’t take her eyes off that pulsing bead. She does something she’s never done before, more out of impulse than any real need, because Abby is soaked already—she lets a carefully-placed droplet of spit fall from her lips onto Abby’s clit. 

Abby’s hips lift from the mattress, and she actually growls. “Ellie.”

“I know.” Her voice is thick with awe. Admiration. She could do this for fucking hours. Just look. Just watch her whine and plead. 

But instead of extending her torture, Ellie runs her thumb through Abby’s wetness, settling just below her clit. Withholding for a second too long. Abby is already falling apart, and it fills Ellie with a dangerous kind of warmth. 

Then, so gently, her thumb circles over Abby’s clit. 

Abby’s head shoots up from the bed, eyes wide, fingers taut in the bedsheets. “Fuck, Ellie—!”

“Yeah,” Ellie chuckles lightly, lowering herself until she feels Abby’s warmth against her skin, “I know.” 

She loses any commitment she had to teasing the moment her tongue is on Abby’s cunt, because she’s fucking drunk with it. The way she tastes, the way new waves of arousal keep spilling into Ellie’s mouth. The way her clit twitches against Ellie’s nose as she buries herself deeper. The way Abby’s hips fuck into her, spreading slick all over her lips and chin. 

Abby’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling hard. She’s making loud, desperate noises that will absolutely wake up anyone sleeping next door. Ellie consumes her with sloppy, messy need. 

The moment Ellie sinks two fingers into her, she feels Abby start to clamp down. Those rhythmic pulses squeezing her fingers can only mean one thing. 

Her grip tightens on Ellie’s hair until her scalp aches. Her thighs tense at Ellie’s ears, and for a moment, she’s actually convinced Abby might choke her to death. Not the worst way to go out, all things considered. 

“Oh, fuck!” Her head slams back hard against the mattress, muscled torso arching into the air. 

Ellie doesn’t want to slow down. She can’t. She fucks her until Abby is trembling and squirming and begging her to stop.

It takes several minutes before Abby can speak. Then, it all seems to hit her at once. She gives Ellie a horrified look and covers her face in her hands. “That’s never happened to me before.”

Ellie wipes her chin along Abby’s hip, then rests there. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

Abby peeks between fingers. “That’s not— you know what? Shut the fuck up.” 

“Oh, I know what you mean.” Ellie runs a hand up her abdomen—more for her own pleasure than Abby’s—feeling those muscles ripple and twitch at her touch. “You mean nobody’s made you cum in five seconds flat.” 

“I hate you.” She says it flatly, without meaning it. There’s not enough fight left in her to mean it. 

“It seems like you like me a lot, actually.”

Slowly, with Ellie settling at her side, Abby starts to go slack. Too tired to keep herself taut. Ellie runs gentle fingers over her bicep and down her forearm, meeting Abby’s big hands—exploring their creases, their lines.

Her own voice sounds hoarse when she finds it. “Was that okay?”

Abby turns to look at her. The redness of activity has started to fade, and she still looks fucking beautiful. Ellie resists the urge to kiss her again. 

“Ellie, I don’t know what to say.” 

She could tease her a little longer. Abby Anderson, finally speechless? Must’ve rocked her world. Must’ve launched her into outer space. Ellie wouldn’t mind a little ego-stroking.

But she doesn’t, and neither of them speaks. They lie there quietly, Abby’s warmth wrapped around her, Ellie always in motion, always touching, until she drifts to sleep. 

——

Ellie’s phone is buzzing when she wakes up. She squints and tries to locate it, arm dangling blindly over the edge of the bed. 

Abby’s bed. 

She’ll unpack that later.

Her phone lights up with seven missed calls and a barrage of texts from Dina. 

“ELLIE”

“DID YOU DIE?”

“TEXT ME IF UR ALIVE xo”

“did you fuck abby anderson”

“CALL ME!!!”

She smiles, allows herself one moment of self-satisfaction, and sends a quick reply: “alive. will tell u about it later”

And then Abby is stirring, mumbling as she comes out of sleep, and Ellie feels it all come rushing again. The dizzying, off-balance lurch of everything that happened last night. 

She wants to make sure Abby is still alive. Gently, she runs a hand over Abby’s cheek, half expecting her to flinch away. She doesn’t.

“You good?” Again, stupid. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Abby contemplates the ceiling, massaging slow circles into her temple. “Well, you're still ruining my life.” 

Ellie can’t keep herself still, not when she’s curled up so close to Abby. Not when she can make out every ridge of muscle on her chest, her stomach. Her hand dips lower, meeting soft curls. “Can I keep ruining it?” 

Abby answers by parting her legs, lifting her hips a little. Inviting her with a sigh. 

Ellie’s content to return to this fucking bliss, when Abby goes completely stiff. She stops. 

“What time is it?”

She tries to remember what her phone screen looked like. “Like, after eight.”

“Eight?! Fuck Ellie, I have practice.”

“It's a weekend.” 

“Yeah, and I still have practice.” But Abby hasn't made a move to shove her off and get out of bed, which she could definitely do. 

“Maybe you should quit.”

Abby’s laugh turns into a whimper as Ellie sucks Abby’s nipple into her mouth, her back arching into the touch. “Jesus Christ.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Just…” She grabs a handful of Ellie’s hair. “Hurry up.” 

Abby Anderson has just had lesbian sex for the first time in her life and is already bossing her around. Ellie's sort of proud. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

——

While Abby gets dressed, she lets Ellie watch her from the bed. Ellie doesn't ever, ever want to get up.

Abby tightens her braid in the mirror. Suddenly she's back to rugby captain Anderson, hard and invulnerable. But then she gives Ellie a softer look. “You're going to have to get out of my room before Nora gets back.”

Right. Abby’s mysteriously absent roommate. 

“I like it here.”

The other thing is, once she leaves, this will be over. Whatever this is. And Ellie knows how this story goes. Abby goes back to Owen. Ellie gets stoned and finds some other girl to fuck. Neither of them talk about it. 

“I usually grab lunch after practice. You can come, if you don’t have class or something.”

She does have class. She’s already planning to skip. 

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Abby inhales sharply. “No.” 

“Okay, then. Lunch, but not a date.” She rolls onto her back, soaking up the feeling of Abby’s mattress a little longer—the warm spot she’s left behind. “I can do that.”

“Please don’t be weird about this, okay?”

“I don’t know if you’ve met me, Abby, but I’ve never been weird a day in my life.”

“Okay, idiot.” Abby finishes lacing up her sneakers, then tosses Ellie’s wrinkled clothes onto the bed. “I have to go. Just… don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

She gives Ellie a final once-over. A final what-the-fuck-have-I-just-done? And Ellie lets her, knowing it won’t be the last time.

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

Taglist: @smellslike-updyke @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @cinnamonstrr @elliemulate @gardengnosticator @arabellyn @abbysreal-wife @winestainedwhiskers @thenameissnix @enmauchimaki @rareanduselessbird (reply to be added or removed!)

AAAHHHH this took me forever I hope you guys like it <3

[vettelsvee]

ALMOST CAUGHT | Oscar Piastri

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

oscar piastri x gf!reader

word count: 1151

summary: oscar and his gf get a little bit horny, but they need to do things quick before someone catch them having sex

warnings: +18, smut (p in v, protected sex), dom!oscar, risk of getting caught

a/n: idk how this turned out because i don't think i'm good writing smut. however, i'll try to improve! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You were lying on the sofa, in your living room, watching a movie as your family had gone shopping at the local mall. Oscar wasn't there either because he had taken Blueberry, the puppy you both recently adopted, for a walk. You had decided not to go because you weren't feeling well. Nevertheless, you were lying on that sofa, eating M&M's and watching a Turkish TV show out of sheer boredom, where the newlywed couple protagonists argued about who would do the shopping.

"When will you be back, Piastri?"

Just as you were thinking about that, Oscar sent you a video of himself and your pet along with a message:

"I might have a little surprise for my girl :)"

You didn't know what he meant, so you asked him what for. Minutes later, he replied that he was saying nothing until the correct moment. Despite your desperation to know what the Australian man had planned, you resisted the urge to keep asking him.

You fell asleep and didn't even realize it, so it was the sound of the front door opening that woke you up. Then, you noticed how small but quick steps were moving back and forth. Alongside them, larger steps slowly approached the couch where you lay.

"Hello, love," you composed yourself a bit from sleep and noticed it was Oscar. "Are you okay?"

"What... what time is it?" you asked curiously. You had completely lost track of time, and you didn't know when you had fallen asleep or how much time had passed since then.

"It's eight twenty-five," the brown-eyed guy replied with a smile.

You noticed he kept smiling, so you kissed him. It was a short but passionate kiss, in which both of you realized that every day you were more in love.

"And what's that about?" Oscar smiled again and positioned himself on top of you, while you couldn't stop telling yourself that he was perfect for you and wondering what you had done to deserve him.

"I'm waiting for the surprise you were going to give me."

You were giving him a too enticing look, and slowly he was starting to get aroused. He wanted to have sex, just like you, and both of you knew each other's thoughts as if they were your own.

"You'll have to wait, darling, but I think we can do something else while you wait."

As soon as Oscar answered, he began kissing you, something that as it progressed became faster and more desperate. You followed along with your tongue, but you were worried that your parents and siblings might appear at any moment.

You decided to stop. Or at least try to.

"Oscar…," no matter what you said, he kept kissing you, now going all the way down on your neck, making you release small moans every time you spoke. "Piastri..., stop..."

Seeing that he wasn't going to stop, you forgot about the possibility of your family catching you having sex and that became the least of your concerns.

With a quick change of position, now you were the one on top of your boyfriend, making movements to further provoke his excitement. Meanwhile, he began to remove your shirt, leaving only a pink bra with blue teddy bears exposed. You knew that wasn't the best attire for situations like the one unfolding, but at that moment you didn't care because there was enough trust - besides, there would be other moments to wear better lingerie.

His kisses trailed down your neck again, but with the main difference this time being that he was leaving marks. You removed his sweater, but it wasn't enough for you: you wanted more, so you didn't hesitate to unbutton his pants, struggling a bit to take them off.

You immediately started playing with the waistband of his boxers, and both of you felt the nervousness growing, although you didn't pay much attention to it. In the end, it wasn't the first time you risked getting caught, and to be honest, you got very horny at that thought.

He removed your pants just as you had done to him earlier, taking the opportunity to position himself on top of you. You knew it was about to begin when he took a condom from his pocket.

You were eager for him, so you removed his underwear, leaving him completely naked, while you remained in your underwear.

"This can't keep going on like this, babe..." the boy said, eager to enter you.

He started removing your bra, immediately moving down between your legs, where he began to touch over your underwear before taking it off.

"Oscar..." you moaned once again.

"For God's sake, shut up already," he demanded, which only aroused you more. "I need you to stay calm, not acting like a desperate whore. I thought you were better than that."

At his words, you got absolutely in shock, but in some way it turned you on hearing Oscar speak like that. 

"Are you sure you want to do this? Will you stop acting so desperate if I enter you this quick? With no previous games and…"

"Of course. You better shut up now and start fucking me," you interrupted him, answering without hesitation.

Once again, and as if he didn’t kiss you on the forehead and began to insert himself into you.

At first, he was going slow, but as the minutes went by the speed increased. Unfortunately, you tried to control your moans, something that Oscar seemed to do perfectly just in case your parents arrived, but you couldn’t hold them. It was great, and you didn’t want it to end.

"Damn it, Oscar!" you screamed, but you still hadn't reached orgasm.

"Wow, I didn't know I was that good at sex," he said proudly, surprising you. "I thought you always faked your moans."

"Shut up and keep going," you answered with a voice slightly interrupted by Oscar’s moves. "I'm close."

A few minutes later, both of you were lying on the sofa, after cumming without much difficulty.

However, your post sex kisses and talk ended as soon as, after getting dressed, you saw you twins brothers standing next to the living room door, seeing you both in absolute shock. 

"Come on, you gotta be kidding me!" Louis, one of the twins, yelled, while you kept signaling him to be quiet.

He started running up the stairs quickly and shouting without hesitation while Liam, your other brother, was sending a voice message to his best friend telling him that he caught his sister and her boyfriend having sex. 

"I guess we won’t be having any more surprises at home for now, love," you said, seeing the commotion you had caused in a moment. "I hope they don’t tell my parents, because if they freak out…”

“We’ll freak out, I know,” Oscar said. “Really, I get it, Y/N. I guess I’ll have to take you to Disneyland to fuck you in one of those Marvel hotel rooms full of Spider-Man merch. Maybe we could try something with some kind of costume on and...”

“You’re taking me to Disneyland?!” you screamed, interrupting him fully surprised.

“I couldn’t keep it anymore so… surprise, babe? Any ideas on what I have just said to you?”

[leafostuff]

Blind sexDate[Ft. StayC's Isa & Fromis_9's Chaeyoung]

Tags: none, its a threesome

Word count: 6.5K

Author's: that...took a while, started to write this in 26th of August so i did take a very long time to finally have this out but here it is: my October upload

I really want to thank @prael @capslocked @octoberautumnbox and many others from the discord for helping me with stuff I wasn't sure about, i am really proud of that fic and i hope everyone else will enjoy reading it as much as i had fun writing it.

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She sounds pretty.

It's the lilt of her voice, how it does a cute thing where she almost, but not quite rolls her r's and chews on her consonants. A voice that sounds like it belongs to someone small. Someone, you know - conventionally attractive. 

Four minutes, fifty-five seconds. And that's pretty much all she has going for her.

"Let me tell you about my friend's vacation," she starts again, and you've lost track of if this is the same friend, same vacation - or a new one. They're all blending together.

you always thought the ‘blind’ was a figure of speech. it's fucking pitch black, you wonder if compared to the other guys you were underdressed,, you did see one guy with a blazer and jeans your paycheck couldn't even pay a quarter of it.

But back to the girl, her non stop ramble is now a background noise in your ears, not even sure you can recall who is the ex of who and which boyfriend cheated on her best friend with her sister. Your brain can't keep up.

but regardless, the first round is thankfully over, say your goodbyes to the first girl and stay in your chair.

you consider leaving right now to try and not get disappointed even more, however…

“Hey” The next girl is already here, it will be rude of you to leave just like that.

“Hi I am Jake” you respond

“Nice to meet you, my name is Chaeyoung, but you can just call me Isa” she responds. The first impression you gather is her voice, Airy and sweet like honey

“Huh, it's a pretty name, First time I ever heard a name like that ” you can hear a quiet giggle to your compliment.

“Thank you, I am actually from South Korea, I came here to LA for summer vacation”.

“That's cool, I actually live in LA myself” You lean back in your chair, getting comfortable around the mysterious girl.

“Oh wow” you could hear the excitement in her voice. “Do you have any places you can recommend to me?” she asked.

“Uhh…well, Here in Santa Monica Pier it's always fun for tourists too walk around here, I assume you have already been at the walk of fame in Hollywood and Universal studios” you answer. 

“I have to say though: this whole dating in the darkness is very fun, isn't it?” Fun is certainly one way to describe this, the other way is a gamble but for the sake of keeping the conversation fun you agree with her.

“Its like all of my other senses are much stronger, like some superhero…” Isa giggles, it's addictive that you can't help but join, with the sound of small shifts on her chair you can imagine how she is doing some battle poses.

“Hehe thats truuu-” quickly shut your mouth, that voice crack was the last thing you needed on a date but fortunately for you, Chaeyoung sounds a short laugh.

“Nervous?”

“hehe…Yeah, been a while since i was on a date” you explain, recalling your experiences with your failed relationships, it still stings a bit.

"Let's play a game then." There's some faint sounds of movement—a ruffling of clothes and the creak of a chair. She sounds clearer now, her voice doesn't have to carry as far and she's far more pronounced. 

"Help you relax a bit: What do you think I look like?” she asks, her tone is playful and happy as if she is the host of a game show, This second date goes better than you expected.

“Hmm…let me think…I am gonna guess that you have…black hair…is it long?” Your first answer is hesitant.

“Not telling~” she responds with a playful note. “How about my clothes?”

There is curiosity in her voice, excited to see how you will respond, you could hear her fingers tapping on the table, remembering to not waste time. “Well, you sound like a sweet girl, like the simple things in life, so…” you pause, trying to imagine her in many different styles and clothes that could fit her in the 5 or so minutes that you got to know her. 

Remember who is wasting who’s time so better lock in your answer now and say.

“My guess is… a summer dress?” quite the answer you give out, and the way you say it like you are one answer away from receiving the grand prize of Chaeyoung's game show, but back to her answer…

“You think it's something I will wear?” Isa questions, her tone sounds like she is also imagining herself wearing one.

“Yeah, it looks cute,” you respond. “And its not too crazy to wear on a first date” you add, hearing a small giggle after.

“Ok, i will keep it mind next time we meet”

“Will there be a next time?”

“I don't see why not”

You're happy, a bit surprised it didn't take you that much time to find someone in this speed blind dating thing, expecting more or less what happened the prior date but here you are.

“It's your turn to guess now?” You ask, already feeling comfortable around her.

“Ok ok, so i-”

But sadly as if life has decided to cockblock you, the time is over as an alarm can be heard as a signal to switch, you can only look at the general direction of where Chaeyoung could be and sigh, showing your disappointment.

“We can always meet later if you want” you can feel her wanting to continue her date with you but every good thing must come to an end

“Of course, it was very fun talking with you”

“Same to you as well” you can hear Isa lift herself from the chair. “See ya” she added in a happy tone before leaving you at the lone table. You can't help yourself but smile.

“Maybe it won't be as bad as i thought” 

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Time goes on and other girls come and go, however, you can't help but wonder more about Isa, what makes her laugh? What does she like to do on the weekends? what are her dreams, aspirations and everything in between, the curiosity killed you inside.

more importantly: you wonder what she looks like, outside of the darkness you were both in. If it wasn't clear enough: you are interested in her, they all say love at first sight doesn't exist but here you are, letting your mind fill with the idea of her.

You are set in stone of your choice, and there is no chance you will change yo-.

“uhm Hello? Are you there?”

Zoom out of your thoughts, focus on the husky, feminine voice coming from what seems to be in front of you. How long has she been sitting there? How long have you been daydreaming?? Thank god it's dark so quickly compose yourself before it can get awkward and start talking.

“Oh hi, im jake. Nice to meet you”

“Uhh, nice to meet you too,” she responds, it's not hard to hear the shakiness and in her voice showing her nervousness to you, the small shifting sounds in her chair. “I am Chaeyoung”.

You're caught off guard, the world is smaller than it seems with you meeting two girls Sharing the same name, “isn't that a Korean name?”

“Uh, yeah, how…how did you know?”.

“I actually met another girl named Chaeyoung before in here” you say, it would be funny if they actually knew each other but the chances are slim. It's not like you know every Jake either.

“Oh, that's cool…” she mumbled, sounding as if she was disappointed to hear it

The silence is now getting awkward, you both wait for the other one to start breaking more of the ice and it seems that she was the patient one between both of you since you are the first to give up and get the conversation going.

“So what do you do? For a living I mean” you are met with unintelligible mumbles as an answer, a bit unsure you ask her again to clarify.

“I…model, it's not super serious though” Chaeyoung quietly answered, you could hear light, quick taps beneath the table.

“Oh wow, I bet you are like, really pretty if you do modeling” you dont know how much confidence you got to say such a thing but you are already mentally face-palming yourself. You could feel yourself gaining some creep points in her mind over this comment.

“Oh, uhh Thank…thank you very much” Chaeyoung stutters, her tone jumps an Octave, sounding a small giggle. You can only sigh in relief that you didn't weird Chaeyoung out.

“I'm in LA for a photoshoot, since we finished earlier than expected i got a couple of days free to hang out around the city” she explains, still sounding nervous but much more at ease than before. “So what do you do for work, Jake?” She returns your question to you.

“Ah, I just work as a barista in a small café, nothing much.” you manage to say in a montone, unpleasant tone. You are a bit embarrassed that you have the chance to blind date a model while you are the equivalent of nothing compared to her

“It’s-It’s okay, i'm honestly not some super popular model” her words quickly come out of her mouth. “Besides, I can imagine being a barista is much more relaxing of a job, not trying to get every deal possible just not to lose money.”

“I mean, it doesn't pay much but it is less stressful,” you respond. You can hear two glasses of water placed on the wooden table with one of them handed to you, together with a straw since you could imagine how drinking from the cup would end like.

“So, what does a model like you” you stop, taking a small sip of the water to refresh yourself. -doing in blind speed dating?”

“It's just easier for me, usually when i go on dates I get nervous, and my eyes travel too much, and I kind of panic…” Chaeyoung explains, lightly giggling at her own experience before taking a sip from her water glass as well .“So I thought doing something like this could help me feel uhh you know… less stressed.”

“Hey, you do you, as long as you are comfortable.”

“Yeah, that's true,” Chaeyoung replied. Her voice turns less shaky and more clear than at the start of your date, it was clear that both of you had fun on that date.

So much so that in fact, you both were caught off guard by the timer for your date finishes and the lights suddenly turn up again, revealing the girl in front of you for the first time.

Right off the bat; you understand why Chaeyoung is a model.

A heart-shaped face and a delicate, soft jawline paired with brown, expressive eyes and Black shoulder-length silky hair that is enough to make every man look at her in awe, including you. Even her clothing is model-like with a Chic, stylish black off shoulder shirt and Denim jeans that show her features exceptionally well. By the way, you should say something before you will sound weird

“Oh, nice to meet you” stand up from your chair and raise your hand to a handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, i gotta say that i didn't see that coming at all” Chaeyoung cheerfully responded while shaking your hand, sounding a sincere chuckle while her eyes joined her wide smile.

“Same, i almost had a heart attack” you jokingly say while you get your jacket off your chair. “Say, wanna go outside? Maybe get to know each other more” she only nods, taking her jacket from her chair as you both head out from your table toward the exit of the bar.

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“Oh, here you are” you recognize this airy voice, taken aback as you look at where the voice comes from.

Though you were right about the black hair, you did miss the mark on Isa's outfit. Short crop top and tight jeans, that cute summer dress was nowhere to be found.

Her cat-like eyes lock onto yours, she flashes a sweet yet devilish grin before heading toward the two of you.

“Gotta say Jake: i had a feeling you were good looking, but i didn't expect you to be this good looking” Isa compliments you, giving a small wink then her gaze turns to Chaeyoung with curious eyes.

“Your friend?” She asks you,

“Hi, I'm Chaeyoung, nice to meet you” She says, reaching her hand forward as Isa is suddenly taken by surprise.

“Um, I am Chaeyoung”

“That's my name”

“That's… also my name"

“What's your family name?” Chaeyoung asks, now intrigued by the other girl.

“Its Lee” Isa responds, now it's Chaeyoung’s turn to be surprised.

“that's also…my family name”

During this, you are just looking at what's happening in front of you. As much as you are curious, you are also worried since it seems like both were interested in dating you after this.

However, one quick look at each other, another one to look at you and then looking back at each other, the two girls started laughing, both covering their mouths to muffle the volume. You can only sigh in relief that it turned for the better.

Eventually they both let their laughs out as Chaeyoung speaks. “It's quite a surprise to meet another Korean here in LA”.

“Please, call me Isa, and same, nice to meet you too Chaeyoung” she replies, chuckling lightly as the other girl can't help but start chuckling as well before they reach their hand for a small handshake

“Well that went better than expected” you manage to slip in the conversation reminding them that you are still here.

“You also met him on Speed dating?”

Chaeyoung nods. “We were the last round before the lights turned on, you two met earlier?” 

“Yeah, the other guys were kind of boring but he was a breath of fresh air” Isa explains, turning her gaze to you and winking at you. You could swear your heart skipped a beat.

At this moment one question rose in your mind and as you looked at the two girls with an awkward look, they both realized what you were as they sounded a small ‘oh’ before looking at each other again. As much as you didn't want you, you had to choose one of the girls to be your date.

“You can go out with Jake” Chaeyoung quickly says, smiling sweetly and lightly pushing Isa toward you, both you and the cat-like girl are surprised.

“Chaeyoung? Are you sure?” you question, why was she suddenly

“Yeah yeah, I'm sure, You two met before I met you, so she should have you” she explains, her eyes joining her smile. You did feel bad about leaving Chaeyoung out however an idea was about to be suggested that would fix that problem.

Then again, you aren't sure if this was an actual fix…

“I dont mind you dating us both”

What

“What?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrow in surprise at Isa, the one who suggested that idea out of the blue, you were not far behind Chaeyoung in your reaction as well, being completely confusement.

“I mean dont see why not, I like you, you like me, she likes you, You like her. I am bad at math but it doesn’t seem too hard to solve this problem” Isa explains looking at you, You and Chaeyoung swap looks, you can feel your cheek heating up and changing to a pink shade.

“I mean uh…as long as Jake doesn't mind, it's okay by me” Chaeyoung stutters, Isa likes this response as she smiles at her new friend, her arm goes around Chaeyoung’s shoulder.

“Im sure it will be great, So what do you say Jake?~” Isa’s voice is sweet when she looks at you with her warm smile, Chaeyoung’s smile is also there but is much more timid.

The choice was now in your field, you didn't expect there to be a third option in the first place and all in honesty: That idea seemed like trouble. But when Isa looks at you with her cheerful smile, standing like that next to Chaeyoung with a smile that makes them look together like the next cover page for a magazine, it's hard to say no to them.

And deep inside: you don't want to.

“Sure, if that's what you two want” you respond, it seems they are both satisfied with your choice as they look at each other with warm smiles. 

you honestly didn't mind this idea as long as they were both happy, besides, what's the worst that could happen?.

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“Dang it!” Isa yelled, almost managing to block your hit of the air puck but it ended up inside the goal because of the unusual angle you shot it. “So…a model, that sounds like a cool job to have, no?” She directed her question to Chaeyoung, giving her the mallet she was holding.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it's fine, I'm not getting many offers compared to the average model” Chaeyoung answers, half focused on aiming the first shot before quickly shooting it at your goal. “but it's good money”

You reflect the puck. “I mean, if it's something you like to D-” Stop what you are saying and block the surprise attack Chaeyoung does, look at her cheeky smile as you know she almost scored“-Do, you can do almost everything you want” you continue what you were saying as you send the puck toward her direction.

“Yeah that's true” Chaeyoung smiled toward you, then quickly smacking the puck directly into your goal, getting herself a point. “So, what do you two work at?”.

“A Gaming cafe, Came to LA as a summer trip with my friends after exams” Isa replied, taking your mallet and shooting the puck from her side.

“Damn, compared to you two my job sounds boring as fuck, You are a model, you work at a gaming cafe, and i am just a barista at a cafe” you jokingly roast yourself, eyes moving from side to side with each side the puck goes to.

“Huh, not my first thought when it comes to your job,” Isa says, a bit surprised. “But…i imagine you look quite handsome in barista clothes” And there she goes again, with that flirty smile and curious eyes that you swear you fall in love deeper than you were.

Now look at Chaeyoung, not as flirty as the other girl but it seems that, unlike the first time you met her, she is much less tense, more at ease around the two of you, genuinely enjoying her time.

After the air hockey game is over and a quick stop to get some of LA’s finest street food (which the two seemed to really enjoy for their first time), the three of you are now sitting on the boardwalk, the sound of the waves going back and forth is singing in your ears, however now they topic of the conversation seems to get more…laid-back.

“So let me get this straight: your best friend is Korean, right?” You ask, Isa responds with a small nod

“And she has a British accent?” Chaeyoung continues your question, getting Isa to laugh again.

“Yes-” she stops talking to take a sip from the water bottle in her. “Fully Korean, with a British accent, one time my friends and I were listening to a song called ‘Run 2 U’ by some random group, and she said the name of the song as” she suddenly released a small chuckle unable to keep her cool.

“As what? Just tell us” Chaeyoung comments, half smiling as if she already knows the answer, Isa meanwhile slowly downed the water so she wouldn't choke before finally saying after a deep breath.

“Raeun tew yew…” The mock accent that Isa adds gives the punch line more of an oomph as you all start laughing, small tears of joy leave your eyes as you slam the wooden deck, meanwhile, Chaeyoung covers her mouth to hide the amount of blush she has on her cheeks from how hard she is laughing.

“Oh that was good, I didn't expect to laugh this hard” You exclaim, taking a deep breath as you now go back to staring at the waves. “Honestly…this date has been really fun, with both of you,”.

“Like-wise, we both enjoyed your company as well” Chaeyoung replies, sweetly giggling while her left fingers go to her hair, pushing it aside with the side effect of getting your cheeks slightly pink, luckily the weak lighting make it hard to see for the two girls.

“Same for me” Isa chimed in with a smile. “Say, want to continue it somewhere else? It's getting late” she prompts as a soft yawn escapes her mouth.

“Huh? Okay, if you want my place is close” you say, standing up from the deck as you lend your hand to help her stand up.

“That's great” She says as her gaze turns to the other girl. “You're coming as well Chae?”.

Chaeyoung suddenly tensed up in surprise. “Chae?” she asks, to which Isa just giggles at her rather cute reaction.

“Yeah, it's a cute nickname, you don't mind it, right?” Her tone is sweet when she asks her friend with a warm smile, that way when Chaeyoung smiles, she mirrors the same warmth with her own smile.

“Of course i don't” she responds, standing up and lightly stretching to gain some sense of her body, “So? Lets go”

“Great” Isa comments before turning her gaze to you. “Jake, mind leading the way?”

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The ride home is quieter than usual.

Not that there were not any talks inside the cab you decided to take to your place, but most of the talking was done by the two girls, sitting on each side of you, only speaking in a language you can only assume is korean.

It’s a simple loop: Isa says something, they look at you (which you could only smile awkwardly at their happy gazes), Chaeyoung answers with something else and they start giggling, sneaking another look at you and then it goes back again.

Eventually the taxi stops, leaving you right in front of your apartment complex. “Hmm, it really is close to the pier” Isa commented, easy for her to say when the entire bus ride has been ten minutes but for you it felt like an eternity.

As you scale the stairs up to your floor and walk to your apartment, you manage to fish the keys to your apartment out of your jeans pockets and open the door.

“Well here we are,” you say, getting inside and turning the lights on, revealing the living room, a couple boxes of instant-noodles on the table, the tv is on with a random news channel. “As you can see, it's not that big but its co-”

As you turn around to look at the two girls, your mouth opens wide in shock.

In front of you is Isa, head tilted slightly to the side as her lips close the distance with Chaeyoung’s. Her hands are not left idle as they both smoothly travel across the older’s back, feeling every inch of her partner’s body.

Meanwhile Chaeyoung's eyes are wide open and her body froze, surprised by the sudden act of Isa. It's not long until she as well eases up into the kiss, gently closing her eyes and putting her hands on the younger’s hips, you can hear how tongues slowly starts getting into the mix as the two girls vocalise small hums and whimpers. Eventually the torture comes to an end as their lips part from eachother but not their hands

“That… was your plan in the…end?” Chaeyoung asks in between pants, trying to collect air to aid surprise

“Of course, and besides…” Isa answers, turning her head enough to get her eyes on you, more specifically a bit down from your eyes. “It seems like he enjoys the show”.

Look down at the visible tent that is forming inside your pants and your hand that is slowly stroking itself to the beautiful yet unholy sight in front of you, another look into their eyes and you can see the arousement both girls share at your own prize.

“Come behind her jake, she feels divine” Isa elongates the last word-just the right way to get you Following her prompt, walking toward the two girls and getting behind Chaeyoung, your hands wrap around her midriff and your lips find themselves on the back of her neck causing her to quietly gasp.

With each second that your threeway makeout session was passing you could feel your pants getting tighter and your lust growing larger, enough that in a very bold move you let your palm find Isa’s right buttcock, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes her release a soft moan and take a look at you with a slutty smirk.

“You sneaky motherfucker” she playfully said, getting one of her hands off Chaeyoung's hips and wrapping it around your length. “You're hard already” she exclaims, leaving the two of you standing in front of her, wanting more from her, and from each other.

“I cant wait any longer~” Isa breathily says, giving you two a playful wink before disappearing into your bedroom. As lust quickly takes over your body you grab Chaeyoung by the hips and pull her into a kiss, and by how Chaeyoung quickly reciprocates the kiss and doesn't pull away, you can tell she wants it too.

You don't have time to process the texture of Chaeyoung lips, or how her long, soft legs are wrapped around your waist. Your only goal is to get the two of you into the bedroom, where Isa sits on your king sized bed with hungry eyes, licking her lips in anticipation. 

You let Chaeyoung get on your bed as you quickly join the two girls while tossing your shirt off to the side of the bed letting the two girls marvel at your naked chest.

“Fuck” Chaeyoung mouthed.

“Told you he was hot” Isa adds, scooting herself in front of you to get a hold of your chest before leaning in for a quick peck on your lips. “You don't mind undressing yourself, do you? me and Chae here have a show we need to give you” No answer was needed besides a nod as you went to the edge of your bed, letting the two girls begin.

It starts with kissing, slow yet sensual with Isa taking the lead by Straddling Chaeyoung's lap while one of her hands begins to glide across Chaeyoung's curves, ending at her left breast. “Fuck unnie, the things i will do to have a body like yours”.

Chaeyoung elicits a muffled moan to the soft grope Isa gives her, eyes completely shut and her and head looking up to let the pleasure take over. Soon Isa begins moving her hands all around her body, giving every inch of skin attention until eventually she stops one hand on the hem of Chaeyoung's shirt, the other supporting her from behind.

“You don't mind letting me take it off, right?” A quick nod of approval from the older one and Isa begins to slowly pull it up, moving to the right to let you see how slowly but surely more skin is revealed until finally the shirt is completely above her head giving you a clear view of Chaeyoung's black, lacy bra.

During all of this you are hard as a rock, can't take your eyes off from the two girls in front of you, even while you attempt to zip your jeans and rid them off your legs leaving you only in your briefs. You could swear you saw Isa lick her lips at the first sights of your briefs.

“Can I take yours too?” Chaeyoung's question is needy, eyes showing every sign of want to her Partner, hands are not left idle either with both of them resting on the upper part of Isa’s midriff, slightly below her two mounds.

“Of course, Unnie” she responds, leaning her body back and relaxing herself to let the older begin a strip tease of her own, every second that passes raises the sexual tension between them to a new level.

Unlike Chaeyoung, Isa’s crop top is not as loose compared to her black shirt, revealing the younger's breasts, covered with a crimson colored undergarments of her own with nipples taut from the arousal.

“Much better” Isa sighs in relief, feeling lighter without her crop top that is now thrown somewhere to the floor as once again she looks at you with a soft gaze however her mouth is anything but, painted with a sultry smile that can only speak trouble, finally with a breathy voice she playfully asks

“You're coming, Jake?”

The way Isa says your name, it's enough to let your primal instincts take over you, every red light is now turned green as you quickly pull Isa from behind into your lap, feeling her naked skin in your palms, right hand rests on her breast while the left hand goes to her thigh, rubbing and squeezing it to your heart's content.

“Oh god, yessss” Isa hisses the last word, it was clear that she enjoys every second of this, enough so that she doesnt pull away but instead leans in, meeting you in a torrid, messy makeout session, you two don't notice how Chaeyoung has already got rid of her whole bottom, only with her bra on with fingers already inside her pussy, definitely enjoying the view.

“Don't just stand there Chae, join us” This might be the most confident thing you have said this entire evening but it sure works on her since Chaeyoung now sits in front of Isa, palms massaging her clothed thighs, giving you a free hand to grope Isa’s other breast.

Those are not the same girls you met a couple of hours ago during that blind date, any semblance of innocence and fluff was left outside the door, now replaced with Lust and it's oh so clear with how Chaeyoung's eyes get aroused with each button she pops out of Isa jeans until eventually she finds her undergarment, same color as her bra with a wet spot in the middle.

Knowing what Chaeyoung was doing, Isa takes her hands into her denim jeans, lowering both the jeans and her own panties before throwing them away, leaving her creamy, thick thighs for both of you to revel in.

With the excitement in your body. You don't notice how Isa left your grasp, crawling away with a sway of her hips from side to side, now near her Chaeyoung they both look at you with an inviting smile, now giving you a chance to see both of them in their full glory.

With a devilish smirk Isa now moves behind the older girl, her eyes looking directly at you in an attempt to lure you in. Then a click can be heard as Chaeyoung’s bra now falls onto the mattress, Isa quickly joins her as now in front of you, two naked, gorgeous ladies sit in front of you.

And finally, knowing what the last piece is missing from the puzzle, you finally grab the hem of your boxers, pulling it down to let your Hardened cock stand strong and proud.

“Told you he was big” Isa exclaims, giving a small nudge to Chaeyoung with a small giggle, her friend quickly joins her.

“Yeah…so big” she mumbles quietly, her finger inside her mouth, lightly chewing on it to hold in the excitement of seeing your size. 

However, you didn't come this far with them just to watch each other naked, and they are not either as without saying a word, the two of them playfully shove you down into the mattress and get into their positions.

It starts off with Isa finding her place on your legs once again, looking directly at you with her thighs wrapped around your cock, only the tip is exposed to the air as after a flirty wink, she starts rubbing her thigh on you.

“Oh shit, Isa…” 

You groan, the rest of your voice comes out as a moan that gets her excited, you could have witnessed the obscene act of her thigh job until the end of time, however it is quickly obstructed by Chaeyoung's ass planted on your chest, her rear side all for you to view how it moves, you are not surprised why she is a model with a body as divine as hers.

“Jake…i can feel you twitching ” Isa whines, feeling your tip slightly touch her entrance is enough to let some precum leak out of your tip with you releasing another moan.

“Hey, let me have some too” Chaeyoung interrupts, taking her thumb and brushing it over your tip and grabbing some of it as you could hear how she gives it a small lick before humming cheerfully at your taste.

“Ooo, he taste good~” how the fuck did you even think this girl was innocent again?

“Can I have some unnie?”

“Sure” as if Chaeyoung’s timing was perfect, your first shot of cums leaks out of your member as she quickly gets some on her fingers. 

“Say ahhh” Chaeyoung prompts as Isa happily obliges, letting her fingers get inside her mouth, tasting . Its down right torture how you are not allowed to see what might as well be a scene from an adult film but regardless you can only enjoy the sounds, its not like you didnt do it before.

As your libido starts growing, so does your confidence as your palms firmly hold each buttcock of Chaeyoung, feeling its texture by softly squishing it, kneading it like dough causing Chaeyoung to utter a moan while arching her body back to give you all of the signals that she is enjoying it.

“Okay, this is enough teasing, we want the real thing now” Isa exclaims, Freeing your cock from the confines of her thighs giving it a breath of fresh air as now she squats over your face, giving you a clear view of her shaven pussy. Chaeyoung meanwhile heads over to sit next to your cock, still standing, waiting for the next storm to hit.

“I assume I am still not gonna get a look aren't i?” You ask, trying to sound cocky however Isa didn't say anything as she was slowly lowering her body, obstructing your view once again. With her thighs around your body and her pussy so close to your face, you let your tongue out giving her lips the first lick, just to test the waters.

“Oh fuck, yess” You hear Isa muffled moans from pleasure, feeling her ass gyrating on your tounge, enjoying every moment as you could feel the friction of her thighs on your face.

“You should join us Chaeyoung-AH, i can see him waiting just for you~” you could feel yourself getting even harder than before by the way Isa playfully invites her friend, all the while she is overtaken by pleasure. you are excited to see how Chaeyoung goes off with you, however your thoughts are stopped with a loud groan, not expecting your cock to feel the tightness of her pussy wrapped around you.

After the first contact Chaeyoung starts slowly moving up and down, each dip takes your cock deeper inside her, you could feel how each time you were inside her fluids were coating you more and more. “Oh my god Isaaaaa-” she stops her sentence, quickly releasing a sultry, husky moan. “His f-feels so good…”.

“His tongue too unnie, he is eating me out so well” Isa adds. It's nice to hear the compliment, so much that you get the confidence to start moving at your own pace, pushing your tongue inside. Meanwhile your hands grope Isa’s ass, giving you the grip to start pushing your hips in a matching pace to chaeyoung’s downward movement, Causing the two girls to scream from pleasure, holding each other in order to not collapse on the spot.

You could only Imagine how the girl’s lewd expressions were, just from the ungodly sounds, the scent of lust and cum, and the feeling of their curves on your body you could guess the fun they were having, but it would not be over until you all finally relieved yourself.

“Are you close Jake?” Isa manages to form a question while looking down, you could only respond with a muffled ‘yes’ and a nod of approval.

“I'm close too guys, i have to cum” Chaeyoung replies, releasing another moan in between bohnces it seems like you were all in on the same train of thought as you could feel yourself getting closer to your climax, even without Isa’s Ass directly on your face your view was getting hazy from ecstacy.

“Shit girls, i am going to-” you couldn't even finish the sentence before finally releasing your cum, thank god you pulled out of Chaeyoung just in time.

Your thick load goes all over their bodies, on Chaeyoung thighs, on Isa’s midriff, some even spills on your own abs, you are also not alone as they both get their own orgasm which goes all around your body, Chaeyoung coating your cock and Isa spilling around your face and abs

It takes a while but eventually you are all drained, both girls fall into each of your side, finally giving you a chance to see the two girls laid on the mattress, their bodies painted with cum from the three of you, their faces happy and satisfied.

For a couple of minutes it's quiet, the only way you communicate is with your eyes, looking at each other not with lust but instead with a warm, peaceful gaze.

Eventually Chaeyoung finally breaks the silence. “Fuck, im not a virgin but i gotta say; that is the best sex i had in my life”

“Same for me, i don't know if i want a round 2 or to stop” Isa joins between heavy pants, her hands wrap around your body as she looks at you with the same warm smile she had back when you first saw her.

“I don't know about you two, but i need a good rest after this” you manage to say as you once again lay down on the bed, eyes looking at the ceiling with each hand goes behind the girls’s back, pulling them closee to you.

“Okay then, we will start cleaning and then join you” Isa replies, letting you close your eyes and get some rest. However not before you can hear faint sounds of slurping as you open eye and see Chaeyoung's lips wrapped around the tip of your cock, isa behind holding her hair and tying it to makeshift ponytail.

“Hmm, it seems you two wanted another” you say, smiling at the two girls.

“Hey, you're still hard and we are still horny, you complain?” Isa asks, her eyes locking into yours paired with a flirty grin and a cute wink.

Something tells you that you wont get a good rest from those two girls.

[rafesapologist]

if you would've been the one ─ rafe cameron (part 2)

summary: rafe gets engaged and you find out

warnings: addiction, dr*g use, angst, mentions of drinking, sad rafe, infidelity (don't cheat guys), sensual moments

author's note: i wasn't sure if i was going to write a part two, but some of you requested one so here you go <3

It has been a month since that fateful encounter with you, since he last held you while you sobbed in the middle of town. The sight of you—broken down, vulnerable, crumbling in his arms—haunts Rafe like a tortured ghost, a specter that clings to him, refusing to be exorcised. It plays on a loop in his mind, a visceral memory he can’t escape no matter how hard he tries. He remembers the way your voice cracked, the way you trembled against him, and the sound of your broken cries feels like a knife twisting in his chest, again and again.

Sofia moved in with him just a few days after that night, boxes stacked in the living room, her laughter filling the house as she unpacked their future together. On the surface, everything looked perfect. Rafe played his part well—smiling, planning the wedding, talking about the life they were going to build. He made everyone believe that his life was finally on track, that he was happy and settled. But the truth was far from the polished facade he showed to the world.

In reality, his nights had become a battleground of regrets. He would lie awake long after Sofia had drifted off to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as the images of your tear-streaked face replayed behind his eyes. The memory of your sobs haunted him, an echo that reverberated in the dark corners of his mind, refusing to be silenced. The sound of your voice—broken, raw, filled with so much hurt—was something he couldn’t shut out, no matter how tightly he closed his eyes.

While Sofia lay beside him, dreaming about their wedding, their future, and all the things he had promised her, Rafe was stuck in a different kind of dream—a waking nightmare. He relived that night over and over, his subconscious torturing him with the choices he’d made, the words he couldn’t take back. He would wake up in a cold sweat, his chest tight, the ghost of your presence lingering in the room. He could almost feel your tears soaking through his shirt again, the phantom weight of your body pressed against his as you cried out every last bit of hurt he’d caused.

It was like being trapped in a loop he couldn’t escape from, a purgatory of his own making. Every smile he gave Sofia, every kiss, felt like a betrayal—to her, to you, and to himself. He was playing the role of a man who had everything figured out, but inside, he was unraveling, piece by piece. Because he knew the truth he couldn’t admit to anyone—not even to himself. He wasn’t haunted by the life he was building with Sofia. He was haunted by the life he’d lost with you. And it was a loss that was slowly eating him alive.

Rafe picked up his old habits like an old, familiar coat—one that he’d hoped to never wear again. In the days and weeks following that night, the weight of his regret and guilt became unbearable, pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe. He tried to push it all away, to bury himself in his plans with Sofia, to drown out the echo of your words in the monotony of his new life. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t escape the sound of your broken voice, the look in your eyes as you told him how much he had destroyed you.

That was the night his sobriety came to a screeching halt.

He remembered sitting on the edge of his bed, Sofia already asleep beside him, her breathing soft and steady. He stared down at his hands, the same hands that had held you, that had pushed you away, that had made all the wrong choices. It was like he could still feel the ghost of your touch, the imprint of your fingers as you shoved him in a fit of anger. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, and he needed something—anything—to numb the pain.

Rafe knew where to go, who to call. It was frighteningly easy to slip back into old routines, to let the darkness swallow him whole. He took his first line of coke that night, the familiar burn hitting him hard, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he felt relief. The crushing weight of his emotions lifted, replaced by a rush of artificial euphoria. It felt like he had control again, like he could breathe. But it was a lie—a dangerous, seductive lie that he willingly bought into.

The weeks that followed were a blur of late nights and reckless choices. What had started as a desperate attempt to cope quickly spiraled into something darker. His addiction came back with a vengeance, tenfold worse than before. It became a weekly ritual, then every few days, until it was nearly a daily habit. Rafe would disappear for hours, locking himself in the bathroom or sneaking off to the garage, cutting lines on the cold surface of the counter, inhaling deeply as the familiar numbness washed over him.

Sofia was oblivious. She’d look at him with concern sometimes, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly when he thought no one was watching. But Rafe was good at hiding it. He knew how to play the part, how to keep up the facade of the doting fiancé, the man who had everything under control. He’d smile, kiss her on the forehead, tell her everything was fine. And she believed him. Why wouldn’t she? To her, he was still the man who had turned his life around, who was ready to settle down and start fresh.

But in reality, Rafe was spiraling, falling deeper into a pit of his own making. The regret of losing you, the guilt of betraying what he once felt for you, was a constant gnawing at his soul. He’d lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with all the what ifs that he couldn’t shut off. What if he had fought for you? What if he had chosen you instead? What if he had never let things fall apart?

The only thing he felt like he had control over was the drugs he was putting into his body. It was the one thing that numbed the pain, that quieted the screaming in his head, even if just for a little while. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the reality he had created, a reality where he was haunted by the ghost of you, the woman he still loved, but had pushed away.

And with every line he snorted, he knew he was digging himself deeper into a hole he might never climb out of. But the truth was, he didn’t care. Not anymore. Because in his mind, this was his punishment—his self-inflicted penance for the life he had ruined, not just yours, but his own as well.

The weekend finally arrived, and Topper’s invitation to the Pelican Yacht Club felt like an aid thrown into the raging sea Rafe had been drowning in. Topper had insisted he come out, promising a carefree day of drinks and laughter with old friends—a chance to forget about the chaos that had become his life. Rafe had been hesitant, rightfully so. The yacht club wasn’t just a place anymore; it was a scene of memories, and there was a good chance you’d be there. It was your workplace, after all, and Rafe knew that running into you could rip open wounds that were still fresh and bleeding.

But as he stood there in the mirror, staring at his own reflection, he realized he had nothing left to lose. His spiraling had already reached its peak. He was a man standing at the edge, and avoiding you now felt pointless. The drugs had dulled the pain, numbed him enough to survive each day, but they hadn’t erased the hollow ache in his chest. In his mind, he reasoned that maybe seeing you would bring him the closure he never got—an end to the nightmare he’d been living since that night he held you while you cried.

He agreed to go. He left the house with Sofia behind, her cheerful wave and bright smile not reaching him the way it once might have. She asked him if he’d be home for dinner, her voice laced with hope, as if she sensed the growing distance between them but couldn’t quite put her finger on why. He told her he’d try, planting a kiss on her forehead out of habit more than affection, and walked out the door without looking back.

The drive to the yacht club felt like an eternity. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, the weight of anticipation gnawing at him. He couldn’t tell if he was hoping to see you or praying that you wouldn’t be there. When he arrived, he took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of the car and into the blazing afternoon sun. The humid air clung to his skin, reminding him of countless summer days spent here with his friends, with you. It felt like a different lifetime.

He spotted Topper almost immediately, surrounded by a familiar group of friends, their laughter echoing across the dock. The sight was almost comforting, a sliver of normalcy in the midst of the chaos his life had become. Rafe plastered on a smile and made his way over, clapping Topper on the back as he was handed a drink. He took a long sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat, and for a moment, he felt like he could pretend that everything was okay.

But it was fleeting. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you almost unconsciously. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you, but his heart knew better. He could feel it racing in his chest, an unsteady rhythm that only worsened when he finally caught sight of you. There you were, behind the bar, moving with a practiced grace, serving drinks and laughing at something a customer said.

You looked good. Too good. It made his stomach twist with a mix of longing and regret. He wasn’t sure what he expected—that you’d be as broken as he was, perhaps. But you looked like you were surviving, like you had picked up the pieces of your shattered heart and put them back together, even if the cracks were still visible beneath the surface.

Rafe felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. This was it, the moment he had been dreading and anticipating all at once. He had braced himself for what might happen, but seeing you again, looking so effortlessly beautiful and so painfully out of reach, knocked the air right out of his lungs.

He turned back to his friends, forcing himself to join in their conversation, to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He could feel the weight of your presence across the bar like a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. He took another long swig of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm his nerves, but it only made him feel more on edge.

Rafe knew he had to make a choice—approach you and risk tearing open old wounds, or avoid you and leave things unresolved, the way they’d been left that night in town. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, his hands trembling slightly as he set down his empty glass. He glanced back over at you, his front faltering as he watched you laugh with a customer, the sound of your laughter piercing through the haze of noise around him.

Suddenly, the conversations around Rafe begin to fade, the laughter and chatter of his friends muffled like he’s underwater. He forces a smile, offering a half-hearted chuckle here and there, but his mind is miles away. He keeps sneaking quick glances over his shoulder, looking for you across the bar, though every look is so brief you never notice. It almost pains him, the way you seem oblivious to his presence. But he tells himself it’s busy; you’re too focused on the flow of customers to scan the room. Still, he can’t shake the sting, a dull ache in his chest that grows stronger every time he catches sight of you, the girl he let slip away.

You hadn’t noticed him yet. The thought stings more than he expected it to. How could you be so unaware of the agony ripping him apart from across the room? But he knows it isn't fair to think that. The bar is packed, filled with the usual weekend crowd; your focus is split between orders, conversations, and the rhythm of your job. It's easier this way, he tells himself. If you noticed him, it would complicate things, make the air heavy with unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Yet part of him—a selfish, desperate part—aches for you to look up, to lock eyes with him, even if only for a second. Just to see if he could read something, anything, in your gaze.

Rafe is at war with himself, stuck between the urge to keep his distance and the desperate need to get closer, to say something—anything. His fingers tap nervously against his glass, the buzz of alcohol not strong enough to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

Then one of his friends speaks up, snapping him back to the present. “We’re running low on beer, man. Someone should get another round.”

Without thinking, Rafe jumps in, his voice a little too quick, a little too eager. “I got it,” he blurts out, pushing himself up from his seat. His friends barely notice his sudden enthusiasm, already lost in their own drunken conversations. For them, it’s just Rafe doing a favor. But for him, it’s an excuse, a chance to approach the bar and maybe, just maybe, get a moment alone with you.

He moves through the crowd, weaving between bodies as he makes his way toward the bar. His heart is pounding, adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he’s about to do something reckless. In a way, he is. He hasn’t seen you up close since that night a month ago when he held you in his arms while you broke down in tears, and the memory of it still haunts him. He doesn’t know what he plans to say, or if he’ll even say anything at all. But he has to see you, has to face whatever feelings linger between you.

As he reaches the bar, he spots you right away. You’re busy, turning to grab a bottle from the shelf, your hair falling in loose waves over your shoulder. The sight of you hits him hard, a wave of emotion crashing over him so violently it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like seeing you for the first time all over again, except now there’s an insurmountable distance between you that wasn’t there before.

He wipes his sweaty palms on his khaki shorts, trying to calm himself, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. When you turn around, you don’t notice him at first, focused on passing a drink to a customer. He takes a deep breath, his voice caught in his throat, but he forces the words out anyway.

“Hey, can I get a round of beers?” he asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but enough for you to hear.

The moment you look up to meet his gaze, it's as if time itself halts. The crowded, bustling room fades into the background, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it’s just you and him. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing across your face before you can mask it. It’s a split-second crack in your facade, but you quickly snap yourself back into place. The shock, the pain—it all gets shoved down as you force yourself into a state of icy calm.

You give a curt nod, your expression stone-cold, devoid of any trace of the emotions boiling beneath the surface. You glance away, reaching for a stack of glasses without missing a beat. To anyone else, it would look like he’s just another customer, another face in the sea of people.

“Gotcha,” you reply flatly, your voice monotone and unreadable, like a wall going up between you. You don’t give him the satisfaction of anything more, no warmth, no bitterness—just cold indifference. You’re determined not to let him see how much his presence unsettles you, how the mere sight of him brings back every hurtful word, every sleepless night spent crying over the pieces he left behind.

You focus on the task at hand, pulling a few cold beers from the cooler and lining them up on the counter. The silence that stretches between you is suffocating, thick with all the unspoken words that hang in the air like ghosts. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something in your expression, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Rafe swallows hard, the tension settling heavy in his chest. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his tongue. He watches your every move, hoping for a sign—anything—that might tell him you still care, even if it’s just a spark of anger or pain. But you give him nothing.

You slide the beers across the counter toward him, your movements quick and efficient. “Anything else?” you ask, your tone clipped and business-like, as if this moment isn’t ripping you apart from the inside.

Rafe stares at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, searching desperately for something—anything—that might hint at what you’re feeling. But you don’t let him see it. You hold his gaze with a cold, distant expression, one that feels foreign even to you. It’s a stark contrast to the way you looked at him the last time he saw you, broken down and vulnerable. The warmth that once lived in your eyes is gone, replaced by an icy shield you’ve built up to protect yourself.

His mouth opens for a second, and it almost looks like he’s going to say something—something important, something that might change the trajectory of this interaction. But he hesitates, words caught in his throat, and you see the flicker of conflict flash across his face. He bites his tongue, the sentence dying before it ever has a chance to leave his lips.

“Uh—no, that’s all. Thank you,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s awkward, hollow, like he’s a shell of the man you once knew. He picks up the beers off the counter, his hand shaking slightly, and without another word, he turns away from you. He moves quickly, as if he’s trying to escape the weight of the moment, the unbearable silence hanging between you.

You watch him leave, his shoulders tense, his movements almost robotic as he disappears back into the crowd. A part of you wants to call him back, to demand answers, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But you don’t. You stand there, rooted to the spot, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you remind yourself that he’s no longer your concern. He made his choice.

Rafe returns to his friends, dropping the beers onto the table with a thud that goes unnoticed by the group. They’re too caught up in their drunken laughter, their cheers filling the air as they reach for the drinks, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside him. He forces a smile, pretending to be present, but his mind is miles away.

The brief encounter with you replays in his head on an endless loop, each second of it magnified, dissected, and analyzed like a broken record he can’t turn off. He can’t stop thinking about the look in your eyes—so cold and unfeeling, a far cry from the warmth and love they used to hold. It’s like staring into the face of a stranger, and it makes his chest ache with regret.

He takes a long swig of his beer, hoping the alcohol will numb the gnawing feeling in his gut, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the hollow sensation grow worse. He questions every part of that brief interaction: Should he have said something different? Should he have apologized again, right then and there? Should he have tried to explain himself, to make you see how much he’s been suffering too?

But it’s too late now. The moment has passed, and he knows he can’t change it. All he’s left with is the echo of your monotone “gotcha” and the way you looked right through him like he was nothing. He clenches his jaw, staring down at the condensation forming on his bottle, the laughter of his friends now just white noise in the background.

Rafe tries to shake it off, telling himself to get over it, to move on like everyone else seems to have. But he can’t. He’s stuck, trapped in his own head, replaying the scene over and over as he mentally beats himself up for everything he did wrong. It feels like a downward spiral he has no control over, a reminder that no matter how hard he tries to pretend everything is fine, the cracks are still there, ready to shatter him completely.

The night drags on, hours passing by in a haze for Rafe as he tries to drown his thoughts in drink after drink. The buzz of alcohol settles over him, a dull hum that makes him feel lighter, even if just for a moment. It’s a temporary escape, a slight escape from the relentless torment of his own mind. By the time his friends decide to call it a night, the Pelican Yacht Club has long since closed its doors.

The group gathers outside, their laughter a little louder, their goodbyes a little sloppier as they make plans to meet up again soon. Rafe stands at the edge of the group, his smile forced as he nods along, contributing half-heartedly to their final jokes. He feels distant, like he’s watching the scene play out from somewhere far away. One by one, his friends leave, until he’s the last one lingering in the parking lot, alone.

He sways slightly, fumbling in his pocket as he searches for his car keys. His coordination is off, the alcohol making his movements clumsy. He curses under his breath, frustration bubbling up as he struggles to pull the keys free from the tight fabric of his jeans. His head feels foggy, and the dull ache of regret pounds against his temples, as if the night is mocking him.

Just as he finally pulls the keys from his pocket, the sound of the front door creaking open behind him makes him freeze. The noise cuts through the silence, startling him. He turns around, his heart sinking when he sees you standing there.

You step out into the faint glow of the parking lot lights, your expression unreadable as you lock up for the night. The sight of you is enough to sober him up slightly, his buzz fading into a sharp pang of anxiety and longing. He hadn’t expected to see you again, not tonight, and certainly not like this. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, his mind racing with what he could possibly say after everything.

You don’t notice him at first, too focused on locking up, the familiar clicks of the door securing in place as you twist the key. It’s been a long night, and you’re eager to get home, to escape the remnants of the day’s chaos. But when you turn around, ready to leave, you see him standing there, swaying slightly under the lights of the parking lot. Rafe’s figure is slouched, his face half-shadowed, and even from a distance, you can tell he’s had too much to drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, feeling a wave of irritation wash over you. You cross your arms defensively, a barrier between the two of you, as if it might protect you from the emotions he still stirs up inside you. “Rafe, what are you doing?” you ask, your tone edged with annoyance and judgment. It’s a reflex, your way of keeping him at arm’s length, of pretending that the sight of him doesn’t affect you as much as it does.

Rafe stares at you for a moment, looking caught off guard. He struggles to find his words, his brain muddled from the alcohol. “I was just—uh, leaving,” he mumbles, the words tumbling out clumsily. He mentally curses himself, hating how weak he sounds, how pathetic he must look to you right now. He’s Rafe Cameron—he’s supposed to have it all together, but here he is, fumbling in front of you like a lost kid.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, we’re closed, so...” you say, your voice trailing off in a dismissive tone. You don’t finish the sentence, but the implication is clear: there’s nothing left for him here. Not tonight, and maybe not ever.

Your expression remains stone-cold, void of any emotion, and it sends a sharp pang through Rafe’s chest. He’s used to seeing fire in your eyes, whether it was anger, passion, or even sadness. But this cold indifference—it’s like a knife twisting in his gut. It’s as if you’ve already made up your mind about him, as if he’s just another inconvenience at the end of your shift.

Rafe stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, suffocating him with each passing second. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to undo the damage he’s done, but his mind races, desperate for something to break the silence. Your cold indifference cuts through him like a blade, and for a moment, he feels as if he’s drowning in his own regret.

You turn your heel to walk to your car, the sound of your footsteps sharp against the quiet night, but Rafe’s voice halts you abruptly. “Y/n, wait,” he calls out, his tone more urgent than he intended, the alcohol slurring his words slightly.

You pause, but don’t turn around immediately, your body stiff with tension. You can feel the heaviness of his gaze on you. You knew he was going to say something, but you didn’t know what. Did he even have the right to speak to you? After everything?

Rafe takes a tentative step forward, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with a kind of desperation. “Please,” he adds, almost pleading. "I... I just need to say something." His hand twitches at his side, as if he wants to reach out, but he doesn’t, knowing it’s the last thing you probably want from him.

You hesitate, your fingers brushing the handle of your car door, torn between the need to escape and the need to understand. Rafe’s presence pulls at something deep inside you, but it’s a complicated knot of emotions you can’t untangle in a moment. You glance between him and your car, the battle in your chest raging, before your shoulders slump in defeat. You can’t leave him like this—not without hearing him out.

With a sharp exhale, you turn, looking at him once more. He’s waiting, as if he didn’t quite believe you’d stay, his posture stiff with tension. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you allow him that moment to speak. You give him an inch, but that’s all you’re willing to give.

Rafe’s breath shakes as he lets out a small sigh of relief, as though your decision to stay has momentarily lifted a weight from his chest. He shifts his weight nervously, not sure if he’s even saying the right things, but it doesn’t matter now. The words come tumbling out, almost too quickly. “I can’t... leave things where they were when we last talked,” he admits, his voice wavering with something close to regret and need.

You stare at him, confused, eyebrows furrowing as you process what he’s saying. The statement doesn’t sit right with you. You’ve been through so much, and now, after everything, he’s just showing up like this? The anger and the hurt bubble back up, and you feel your guard rise even higher. "What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty and a hint of frustration. His words don’t add up. After everything he’s put you through, after how he left, now he’s trying to make things right? It doesn’t make sense.

Rafe’s gaze flits around the parking lot, his fingers tugging at his hair as if trying to find something solid to hold onto in this conversation. His thoughts are racing, but the words come out in fragments, stammering as though he doesn’t even believe what he’s trying to say. “I—I don’t think we should leave off this way, you know? Maybe we just need... some closure?” He glances at you briefly, but quickly looks away, the uncertainty in his voice giving the whole thing a shaky feel.

You stand there, arms still crossed tightly over your chest, your posture defensive as you process his words. You stare at him, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips, shaking your head in disbelief. “Closure?” you repeat, scoffing slightly, as if the very idea of it is laughable. Your voice hardens as the frustration and anger come rushing back, thickening your tone. “I don’t need any closure from you, Rafe. It’s pretty damn clear what your decision is here. You’re getting married. What else is there to say?”

Rafe’s face pales at your words, and for a moment, he looks almost defeated. The sting of your anger hits him harder than anything he could have prepared for. He expected you to be upset, angry—hell, maybe even hurt—but this... this is different. The bitterness in your voice, the coldness in your eyes, it cuts deeper than anything he’s felt before.

"I know, I know but—" he mutters, his frustration bleeding through as he paces, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to gather his thoughts. "I can’t stand the thought of you hating me for the rest of your life because of this." The words fall from his lips full of desperation, his voice strained as he looks back at you, trying to convey something—anything—that could undo the damage.

His gaze locks with yours, searching for any hint of vulnerability, any crack in the wall you’ve built between the two of you. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he swears he sees something in your eyes—hurt, maybe even a glimmer of sympathy—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. In its place, that same stone-cold, unreadable look that he’s grown all too familiar with tonight.

Your expression hardens again, and when you speak, your voice is quieter, but just as resolute. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to move on, Rafe. I don’t have anything left to say to you anymore that’s gonna change what happens." You take a deep breath, your body tense as you prepare to put an end to this conversation. "So go back home to your fiancée and leave me alone."

His heart clenches painfully at the finality of your words. The way you speak—so detached, so sure of yourself—it makes everything feel so much worse. He thought there might be a chance, even the smallest one, for him to explain himself, to somehow make things right, but with each word you say, that possibility slips further and further away.

“Y/n,” he says softly, and it feels like a plea, like he’s begging for something you can’t give. His eyes meet yours, desperation and regret clouding his expression. “I made a mistake. You were right, I didn’t try hard enough. I was so used to everyone in my life leaving me that I pushed you away before I thought you could do it to me.” His voice cracks slightly on the last part, and he takes a step closer, but you don’t flinch. You stay still, frozen by his words. “I can’t change that, but I need you to know that this is ruining me. I spend every damn day and night replaying what you said to me in my head,” he continues, his fingers tapping frantically at his temple, as if the memory of your hurtful words is a physical wound he can’t escape. “I can’t let you go, y/n.”

The air between you thickens, the words hanging heavily in the silence that follows. Your heart wrenches at the rawness in his voice, but there’s still so much anger, so much betrayal coiled inside you that you refuse to let it go. You were right. You knew, deep down, that the Rafe you loved—who you thought was yours—was gone, replaced by someone who could never give you what you needed.

"Stop," you finally say, your voice low, trembling with everything you've been holding inside. "Stop pretending like this is about me. It’s about you, Rafe. Always has been. You don’t get to come here, to pull me back into your mess, just because you feel guilty. You don’t get to destroy me and expect me to just pick up the pieces and put you back together."

You take a step back, the space between you growing, but your chest tightens. His words echo in your mind, but you can't let them have the power they once did. Not anymore.

“Y/n, please, don’t do this,” he begs, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and pain as he gazes up at you. Then, before you can even process it, he falls to his knees in front of you. The motion is sudden, startling, and leaves you frozen, speechless. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, as if he can somehow erase the past with his touch, his brokenness seeping into you like a virus you’ve already fought too long to get rid of.

“I need you,” he mumbles against your stomach, and you can hear the tears in his voice. The man who used to be your world is now kneeling before you, broken, crying, and pleading in a way you never thought you'd see. It's almost too much, the weight of it crushing your chest, but you fight it. You fight it hard, as though giving in would undo everything you’ve worked so hard to build.

You try to push him away, but your hands falter, shaking as they hover over him. You don’t want to give in. You don’t want to let him pull you back into his chaos. Not after everything.

“Rafe... please, just stop,” you say, but even to your own ears, your voice is weak, trembling with the same sorrow you’ve been trying so hard to bury. You don’t know whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself. Your chest tightens with every second he holds onto you, every second he doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t stop. His grip on you only tightens as he looks up at you, his face streaked with tears, eyes full of raw, untamed emotion.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve let you go. I never should’ve pushed you away. I—” His voice cracks, and he buries his face in your stomach, unable to finish the sentence. The sound of his sobs against your skin is almost too much to bear. It stirs something in you, something painful, something you thought you’d buried so deep that it couldn’t hurt anymore. But it does.

You shake your head, fighting against the part of you that still wants to be there for him, that still wants to believe in the words he’s saying.

“I can’t look at you the same, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. You tense up, every muscle in your body recoiling from the touch that once brought you comfort but now only fills you with a deep, searing pain. Your face twists into an expression of disgust, your lip trembling as you continue. “I can’t look at you knowing you’ve proposed to somebody else. I don’t think I could ever forget that.”

Your words are laced with a solemn, heartbreaking truth that makes Rafe’s breath hitch. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. He looks utterly broken, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign that you don’t mean it. But he finds none.

“That’s not something somebody can just get over,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoes in his ears like a shout.

Rafe’s eyes well up with fresh tears. He drops his head, resting his forehead against your stomach as he chokes out a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispers, his voice filled with raw anguish. “I know I’ve ruined everything. But I still love you, y/n. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

You swallow hard, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the pain of his words. “That doesn’t change anything,” you murmur, your hands still hovering over him, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “You made your choice, Rafe. And it wasn’t me.”

He flinches as if you’ve slapped him, his arms falling limply to his sides. The realization that he can’t undo what he’s done, that he’s lost you for good, washes over him, leaving him hollow. He looks up at you one last time, his expression a mixture of desperation and helplessness.

Once Rafe stands up, there’s a brief silence as he stares into your teary eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat as he takes in your appearance — even after a busy day, you still look beautiful and flawless. It’s one of the things he always admired about you, how you could be under a whirlwind of stress and still somehow look perfect. But as he gazes at you now, his eyes fill with dread and desperation.

“Listen to me, y/n, please just listen to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he points to his chest. You stay silent but don’t move, your eyes peering up at him with a painfully broken look that he wishes he could erase. “I fucked up, okay? I fucked up. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize it, but I did, and I’m so, so sorry.” His lip trembles, his eyes filled with tears and sorrow.

You stand there, unmoving, as his words spill out with raw emotion, almost tripping over themselves in his haste to get them out. The sight of Rafe, usually so composed, now crumbling in front of you is enough to make your heart ache. You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure, but you can feel your front wavering.

Rafe’s eyes are red and glossy, his lips trembling as he desperately tries to explain himself. He points to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to pull the words directly from his heart, like they’ve been buried deep inside him for too long.

“I still love you,” he whispers, the words trembling on his lips like they’re too fragile to say out loud. “This entire time, I never stopped. I just thought I was doing what was right by letting you go. I thought I was saving you from… from me. I couldn’t ruin your life anymore.”

You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat as his words hang in the space between you like a heavy fog. You want to be angry, to lash out, but instead, all you feel is a deep, consuming sadness. It’s like everything you’ve held back, every ounce of pain and longing, is suddenly sitting right there on the surface, impossible to hide.

Your voice is soft, almost trembling as you speak. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You don’t get to choose when you love me and when you let me go.”

Rafe’s face crumples at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know,” he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was so scared of losing you that I ended up pushing you away. And now… now I’ve lost you anyway.”

There’s a silence that follows, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of everything left unsaid is pressing down on your chest. You blink back the tears that have gathered in your eyes, finally allowing one to slip down your cheek.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” you admit, your voice strained and filled with a pain that’s almost unbearable to hear.

Rafe steps forward as if to reach for you, but he stops himself, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t expect you to,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I just needed you to know… I needed you to hear it from me. I never stopped loving you, and I never will.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely as his words wash over you. It feels like every emotion you’ve tried to bury is clawing its way back up to the surface, tearing you apart from the inside. You want to shut him out, to run away and pretend this conversation never happened, but you can’t. Not now. Not after everything he’s said.

With a shaky hand, you wipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling as you let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “So what now, huh?” you ask, your voice strained with raw emotion. “You love me, but in a few weeks, you’ll be off marrying someone else?”

Your expression twists with anger and heartbreak, the frustration building up like an unbearable pressure in your chest. It’s like everything you’ve held back for so long is finally breaking free, and you can’t stop it anymore. You look at him with a fury born out of pain, your eyes ablaze with a mix of betrayal and sorrow.

Rafe flinches at your words, his face crumpling as if you’ve physically struck him. He shakes his head frantically, trying to find something — anything — to say that will make this right. But the truth is, he doesn’t have an answer. He’s caught in his own web of mistakes, and he knows it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispers, almost to himself, as if he’s trying to convince himself that his actions were justified. But even he knows it’s a lie. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading for some kind of forgiveness, some kind of understanding. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you let me believe that you didn’t care when you knew how much I loved you?”

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with all the things that neither of you can say. You’re both standing there, barely holding it together. Rafe takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if he wants to touch you, to comfort you. But you take a step back, shaking your head.

“No — don’t touch me!” you shout, stumbling back as Rafe reaches out for you. You throw your hand in the air, creating a barrier between you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracks, filled with a raw pain that you’ve been holding in for far too long.

The words escape your lips like a scream, your sobs growing louder as the reality of everything crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. It’s as if the dam you’ve kept up for so long has finally broken, and there’s no stopping the flood of emotions now.

Rafe’s hand drops to his side, his face pale and stricken as he watches you fall apart in front of him. He wants to say something, anything, to take back what he’s done, but the words seem to be caught in his throat, strangled by his own guilt.

“You ruined me, Rafe!” you cry out, your voice laced with a bitterness that makes him flinch. “You fucking ruined me!” You point to your chest, stabbing your finger against your sternum as if you’re trying to drill the pain into him, to make him feel even an ounce of what you’re feeling.

“And now you get to live your life with someone else,” you continue, your words heavy with despair, “and I’m still here, trying to get over you.” Your voice breaks on the last word, your face contorted in anguish as tears stream down your cheeks.

You look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of heartbreak and fury. It’s almost unbearable, the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing you for the first time, truly understanding the depth of the pain he’s caused. His lips part as if to say something, but no sound comes out. He stands there, helpless and broken, as he realizes the full weight of what he’s done to you.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you continue, your voice trembling. “To be replaced? To watch you make a future with someone else while I'm still stuck in the past?”

Rafe’s eyes fill with tears, his chest heaving as the weight of his own guilt crashes down on him. He shakes his head, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, strained with intense emotion. “I see what this has done to you, y/n," he says, his words trembling with sincerity. "And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like this. But this —” he gestures between the two of you, his hand trembling as he struggles to find the right words, “— this is hurting me too.”

His eyes are pleading, desperate for you to understand. “You don’t get what I’m saying, y/n. There is no future without you. I can’t even fucking look at Sofia without subconsciously comparing her to you. I can’t even imagine a life where you’re not there.”

You flinch at his confession, feeling your chest tighten as his words sink in. It feels like a gut punch, hearing him say out loud what you’ve feared deep down — that he still loves you, that he’s been pretending all along. You clench your fists, trying to steel yourself against the burning emotions his words bring up. It hurts too much to even look at him right now, the man who was once your everything, standing there and admitting he still wants you despite everything.

“You’re engaged, Rafe,” you choke out, as if reminding him — or maybe reminding yourself. “You’re about to marry her, start a new life with her. How can you say that to me?”

Rafe shakes his head frantically, wiping the tears from his cheeks as if trying to scrub away his own shame. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t fucking know how I got here. I thought I was doing what was right, I thought I was moving on. But the entire time I’ve been fooling myself. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

You stare at him, stunned into silence. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his voice cracks when he says your name — it’s too much. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear, but it’s also everything you’ve feared because it complicates the pain you’ve worked so hard to bury.

“I can’t stand this,” he continues, taking a step closer. He looks at you with an anguish that you’ve never seen from him before, like he’s on the verge of completely unraveling. “I can’t stand the thought of spending my life with someone else when every part of me still loves you. I don’t want a future where I’m constantly wishing it was you beside me instead.”

“Then why?” you finally whisper, your voice breaking as you look at him through your tears. “Why didn’t you fight for us? Why didn’t you choose me?”

Rafe’s face crumples, a sob escaping his lips as he takes another step forward. “Because I was scared, Y/N. I was scared that I’d destroy you, that I’d ruin your life the way I’ve ruined everything else. I thought you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t drag you down with their bullshit. I thought letting you go was what you needed.”

Your lips tremble, your eyes glued to the ground as you stand there before him, openly weeping. The sobs come out in shuddering gasps, and it’s painfully clear that you’re waging a war with yourself, torn between the pull of your heart and the reality staring you in the face.

“This is wrong...” you choke out, shaking your head as you look down at the pavement. “This entire thing is so fucked up now, Rafe.” You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but your voice cracks with the weight of your words. “I can’t tell you I want to be with you knowing you have a fiancée. I’m not that type of person.”

Rafe looks at you, completely shattered. The realization of how deeply he’s hurt you, and how badly he’s messed everything up, is etched across his face. He steps closer, his hands reaching out, but he stops himself just inches away, as if he’s afraid that touching you would make it even worse.

“You don’t think I know that?” he whispers, his voice filled with a vulnerable, desperate plea. “You don’t think I’ve been tearing myself apart over this? I know what I did. I know I put you in this impossible position. But God, y/n, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

It’s as if the sincerity in Rafe’s voice drags you into a tidal wave of emotions you can’t control. Your sobs grow harder, louder, as you struggle against the rising tide of everything you’ve kept bottled up inside. You wipe your tears with the back of your trembling hand, trying to steady your breath. It takes every ounce of strength you have left to lift your eyes and look at him, your voice barely a whisper, choked with disbelief.

"So what do you suggest, Rafe?" you manage to get out, your words laced with pain and anger. "Because I’m not a homewrecker, and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now." You say it with a force that surprises even you, as if you need to convince yourself just as much as him.

Rafe’s eyes widen, filling with a desperate, almost frantic light. He steps closer, his hands reaching out as if to touch you, but he hesitates, letting them fall back to his sides. He’s trembling, his chest heaving as he struggles to get the words out. "I’ll... I’ll break things off with her," he stammers, his voice raw and pleading. "I’ll tell her I don’t want this anymore. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."

He looks at you with an earnestness that you haven’t seen in years, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He’s practically begging, his voice breaking as he continues, "Please, just... just let me make this right. Let me fix this."

You stand there, stunned into silence. The weight of his words, the sheer gravity of his promise, leaves you breathless. You search his face, trying to find any hint of doubt or hesitation, but all you see is desperation. He’s standing there, laying his heart bare before you, offering you everything he has left.

And yet, the fear and doubt in your chest tighten like a vice. It’s everything you ever wanted to hear from him, and yet it feels like it’s coming too late. "You’d break off your engagement?" you whisper, almost disbelieving, as if you need him to say it again for you to believe it.

"Yes," Rafe breathes out without hesitation, his voice cracking. "I would. I’ll do it right now if that’s what it takes. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her everything. Just—just don’t walk away from me. Not again."

You stand there, frozen in shock and grief. He’s offering to leave everything behind—his fiancée, his life as he knows it—all for you. It’s everything you once dreamed of hearing from him, but now it feels like a hollow promise, a desperate plea that leaves you at odds with yourself. Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the memories of the boy you first loved and the stranger standing before you now, a man who’s broken you more than anyone ever has.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him, searching his face for any sign of the boy you once knew. "How do I know you won't do the same to me, Rafe?" you ask, your eyes filled with both heartbreak and accusation. "How do I know that you won't change your mind in a few months, or decide again that I'm not worth the fight? How do I trust you after everything you've put me through?"

Rafe's voice shakes, his eyes searching yours, desperate for any sign of understanding. "You’re my first love," he repeats, softer this time, as if the words themselves carry a burden he’s never let go of. His gaze is intense, filled with intense emotion that seems to pierce straight through you.

"I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And I know I messed up, I know I hurt you—more than I ever should have. But you’re the one I keep coming back to, no matter what, no matter how hard I try to move on." He swallows hard, his voice cracking slightly. "I’ve been trying to tell myself that I could be happy with Sofia, that I could settle for what I have now, but I can’t. Not when I keep thinking about you. About us."

His hands twitch at his sides, a barely contained energy as he steps closer, but not enough to invade your space. He seems to respect the distance you’ve created, but you can feel the pull of his presence, the desperation in his every word.

"I made a mistake, y/n," he says, his voice breaking as if the weight of the confession is physically painful. "And I know that doesn’t change anything. But what I feel for you—it’s not something I can just walk away from. I can’t forget about you. I don’t want to forget about you."

You’re silent, your thoughts a tangled mess, but the truth in his words cuts through the chaos, and you can’t help but feel that old connection flaring inside of you. The love that was once so pure, so certain, but now feels like a distant memory, something impossible to hold onto in this moment.

But Rafe is still standing there, eyes pleading with you, waiting for you to speak. His words hang in the air, heavy. "You’re my first love, y/n. And that means something to me. I can’t just let it go."

The sincerity in his voice cracks your walls just a little more, and for a brief second, you want to believe him. You want to give in and let him in again. But the fear, the pain, the loss—it all rushes back. How could you trust him again after everything he’s done?

But his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much promise—are full of regret, full of a longing that makes your heart ache. And despite everything, despite the doubt that still lingers like a shadow between you, you can’t help but ask, "What are you asking of me, Rafe?"

His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m asking you to give me a chance. A real chance to prove to you that I won’t make the same mistake again. I’m asking you to trust me again, even if it’s just for a little while. To let me show you I’m not the same person who walked away."

You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. It feels like a decision that could change everything—everything you’ve worked for to protect yourself from him, from the hurt. But the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice, it pulls at something inside you. Something you thought was long buried.

"Please, y/n," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, "just give me a chance."

You stand there, frozen for a moment, as Rafe’s words echo in your mind. Your heart is a battlefield, torn between the pain of the past and the ache for what could’ve been. You can’t ignore the emotions swirling inside you—the longing, the betrayal, the love that’s never really gone away.

You stare at him, your expression unreadable, as your eyes flicker between his. You’re caught in a moment of vulnerability, unsure of what to do next. But then, all the years of hurt, the anger, the love you’d buried deep inside you, rush to the surface in one overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, you reach up to him, your hand trembling as you pull his face toward yours. His breath catches as your lips meet in a kiss that’s electric, full of all the things you can’t put into words. At first, it’s tentative, a question in the way you both move, as if unsure if this is real, if this is the right thing to do. But the moment he responds, pulling you closer, you know you’re both lost in this—lost in the feelings that have always been there, buried beneath the hurt and the distance.

Rafe’s hands slide to your back, pressing you against him, and you can feel the heat of his body, the desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid to let go, like you might slip away again. His lips are soft but demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that’s been lost. Your heart races, and everything around you fades into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just the connection you once had, reigniting in a way that feels both comforting and painful all at once.

For a moment, everything is perfect. All the doubts, all the pain, fade away in the warmth of his touch, in the way his kiss deepens, as if he’s trying to pour everything he’s kept inside into you. But then, a sharp pang of reality stabs at you. This isn’t a fairytale. This isn’t a happy ending yet. Your hands push against his chest, breaking the kiss, and you take a step back, your breath ragged.

Rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with emotion. His hands are still outstretched, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets you go. His lips are swollen, his eyes searching yours for any sign that this is real, that you haven’t just pulled away because of the past.

You pull away from the kiss just long enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, any hint that this might be a fleeting moment, but you find none. There’s only sincerity and longing, as if he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. The realization hits you all at once: this is real, and it’s all he’s ever wanted, too.

Before you can even process the thoughts racing through your mind, you’re pulled back into him. His lips crash against yours once again, but this time, it’s different. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a confession, a promise, a desperate release of everything you both kept inside for so long. The world around you disappears as your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as if you can’t get enough of him.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and in a heartbeat, your legs are wrapped around his waist. The cool air outside disappears as the heat between you both intensifies. He presses you against the truck door, his lips still capturing yours, and you can feel the weight of his desire in every movement.

Rafe groans against your lips, his breath ragged, his hands pulling you closer as though he’s afraid you might slip away from him again. He moves with a hunger you’ve never seen before, and yet, it’s familiar, as if every kiss, every touch is a reminder of something you both once had and now desperately crave. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

You pull away, your lips swollen from the intensity, but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you gasping for air. His hands roam to your back, holding you against him as if he can’t bear the thought of letting go. The vulnerability of the moment is overwhelming, but it’s also freeing. In this moment, you don’t care about the past. You don’t care about the pain, the mistakes, or the fear. All that matters is right here, right now, with him.

"Rafe," you whisper, your voice breaking as you look up at him. “This is… too much, I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, gentle this time, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I know. I know. But I can’t help it, y/n. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

The words hit you harder than anything else, and despite every doubt that lingers, you know this is the real Rafe, the one you fell for all those years ago. He’s here. And he’s not going anywhere.

"I still love you, Rafe. I've never fully stopped."

Rafe’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your words. His entire body goes still for a moment, as if he's trying to process what you've just said. His fingers dig into your back, pulling you even closer as though he's afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

His eyes search yours, desperate for confirmation, for a sign that you mean it, that you’re not saying it out of guilt or hurt. His heart races in his chest, the same way it always did when you were near. But this time, there’s something different in the way he looks at you—a sense of relief, of finally being seen and understood after everything that’s passed between you both.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I never fucking stopped, y/n.”

His hands cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t even realize had fallen. His gaze softens, a mix of regret and longing flooding his expression. “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be what you need. I can be the man you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You lean into his touch, the weight of the words, of everything that’s been left unsaid, starting to settle in. It’s still chaos, and the reality of everything is still real and messy. But in this moment, you realize that you don’t need to have it all figured out right now. What matters is the connection between you two, the bond that’s never really broken, no matter how far apart you’ve been.

“I just want you to stay,” you say softly, your voice trembling, but steady. “No more running. No more pushing me away. Just stay, Rafe. I need you.”

Rafe’s eyes close for a moment, taking in the full depth of your words, and then he nods. A tear slips down his cheek, but it’s not one of sadness—it’s one of relief, of knowing that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance he’s been waiting for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice filled with the certainty that comes with knowing exactly what he wants. “I’ll never leave you again.”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Do you still write?if so you write cuddling with cat koing but then he suddenly changes into his human form?

Okay so, I just finished my Mer!König au series, so I think it's finally time to tackle some of these asks. I definitely do still write for it, I just had a little blip around January-early May where I was going through a lot. At some point it might be worth posting about, but the point is that I'm better now and I hope to write more!

Now, this is a very interesting ask because I think this would only go one way.

König likes cuddling. Sometimes, a bit too much. He's an obnoxiously cuddly cat. He'll brush your face with your tail as you're blowing on soup while watching youtube. He's insufferable. However, he sometimes loses control a bit.

The last few times König lost control, it was when you were asleep. He'd be rolling around on his back while you slept and then, all of a sudden, poof! König would shift into his human form and smother you with his back. As soon as he shifts he shifts back, but let me tell you, reader probably goes to a doctor for a couple of months because waking up to something crushing you only to open your eyes and see nothing? Genuinely terrifying.

Well, that all comes to an end on a Friday night. Horangi is chilling and sitting on the chair in your room, sleeping soundly as he likes to do in the evening. König, however, is desperate for attention.

He's just living the best life and rolled on his back in your lap. His big yellow eyes are bright and his pupils have fully expanded as he's looking up at you.

You're watching youtube when you feel his paws reaching up at your face.

"König, stahp," you grumble as he knocks your food off your fork.

He mews and bats at you again.

"What's going on with you?" you mutter bitterly.

Seriously, this cat.

He merps again and you look down. As soon as you do, you sigh. He's just too cute to ignore.

You groan as you put away your laptop and put your plate down to focus your attention on your sweetest cat.

His eyes go even wider as you start to rub his cheeks. His purring is infectious, and soon you're smiling and cooing at how pretty your little prince is. You're just loving the feeling of rubbing his cheeks and you giggle when he drools a little bit. He's looking completely blissed out when, all of a sudden...

Poof!

It takes a minute for your brain to catch up as a giant man flops off the bed and onto the floor.

You're frozen in place, staring at the spot König once was as you hear someone profusely cursing in German.

You slowly turn your head to look up, and there you see a giant man with bright blue eyes staring down at you. His face is shrouded in a black hood with an all-too-familiar set of red tear tracks and his body is covered in that dreadful tactical clothing.

Him, you thought, it's Scary Big Bastard Man. And he's... He's in my lap???

"König?" you squeak.

"König what the fuck!?" you hear a man scream behind you.

You whip your head around to see a Korean man glaring at him. His eyes snap to you and he gulps.

The friendly Korean man.

"Okay, so, um, let me explain-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!"

You throw your laptop at the big man and your plate at the other and they curse and scramble towards the door.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO KÖNIG!?"

"I didn't do anything!" man mountain screeches as the other rips him out through the door.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!"

You're running at them and grabbing anything you can to throw at them as they go.

"THE DOOR! GO TO THE DOOR!" the Korean man yells and shoves the man down to the kitchen floor.

You grab a knife and throw it at them, lodging it squarely in the big man's foot.

He screeches and in an instant...

Poof!

The knife clatters to the ground and where the big man was is now your dear sweet precious baby König, mewling with a bloody back paw.

Your eyes widen and you look at the Korean man glancing between you and König.

"Um," he looks down at König whining on the floor, "hi? My name's Horangi? You might know me as your pet cat."

You look down at König then back up at him.

"You know, like, nyah?"

You throw a knife at him too.

[himewonu]

HEART LAKE ౨ৎ hong joshua

౨ৎ you never thought joshua was the type to play video games—until you caught him playing your favourite game at 2 in the morning.

starring bf! joshua x gn! reader genre fluff, humour, established relationship contains guns (literally a video game), they play fortnite together word count 0.6k

from rhin, the title is from fortnite (chapter 2 i think idk i need to google it). anyways i hope you'll like this ame thanks for the req! i fear i can only write abt fortnite if someone asks to write abt a video game... so i hope u aren't tired of my fn obsession guys!!!

when joshua first met you, you mentioned you were fond of video games. he thought you played simple, cozy games like the sims or animal crossing, but you never corrected him.

he wasn’t wrong, though. you do play those games, but recently he found out you’re more into shooter games. it was a bit shocking to find out you like violent games, but he was not one to judge.

the problem is, joshua never plays video games as much as you play. he’s only ever played classic arcade games like tetris and pac man, but he’s never even heard what a fortnite is or what overwatch is even about.

you love joshua regardless of whether he plays games or not. sometimes when he’s at your place, you two would be close together in front of your tv, playing mario kart, hands tangled with each other’s against the controllers.

one of those game date nights happened to be a fortnite run. again, joshua has never heard of a game named after fourteen days. the first round he played with you, he was lost at first but slowly adapted to it. after the second round, he realized that he enjoys this game.

the only problem with this game is that he is absolutely trash at it. no matter what he does in the game, someone will still find a way to eliminate him. even in 1v1s with you, you manage to beat his ass every time before he can even see your avatar in the game.

joshua really likes this game, and he really likes playing it with you, but sometimes it can get insufferable when you win all the time. so every time he sleeps over, he stays with you in bed until you fall asleep. he’ll wait for a few minutes, then he’ll leave you to log onto your computer.

every night, he practices on fortnite until two in the morning. whether it’s aiming or building, he’ll make sure to master everything you do to him in the game. he’s been doing this routine for literally a fortnight—two weeks and three days to be exact.

you were never aware of this until you woke up one night because the blanket was pushed to you. you realised your boyfriend wasn’t next to you, so you waited for a few minutes, assuming he went to the bathroom. you didn’t sleep for thirty minutes, hoping joshua would come back and cuddle with you, but he never entered the room.

you began to hear faint keyboard typing, fast ones. it was coming from the living room, where your computer is. you got up and wondered, could it be joshua? there was no way; he doesn’t play games like that. as you leave your room, you notice the living room has a bright spot on the wall.

“baby?” you call out, walking closer. you stop in your tracks as you see joshua sitting in front of your computer, one hand on the keyboard and the other one tipping his (your) headphones down. he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights.

you glance at the screen; a big ‘VICTORY ROYALE’ pops up. “no way! did you actually get a victory royale?” you freak out as you come close to joshua, looking closer at the monitor.

“yeah,” he sheepishly replies, “i’ve been trying to get this for a while.”

“why?”

“well, you keep winning every time we 1v1, so i thought if i practice every day, i’ll beat you in a match.”

you stifle a laugh and lean on him. “shua you’re so cute, you know that? we can play tomorrow, but let’s go back to bed now.”

“whatever you say, sweetheart.” he presses a kiss on your forehead and turns off your computer.

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[spxllcxstxr]

Give Me Strength to Stand • M.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Could you do a story where the reader (she/her) is a nurse and is struggling with returning to work in the Pittsburgh after losing their dad suddenly? Hurt and comfort with either Abbot or Robby if possible 💜 -- @rae4725

Summary: With the recent death of your father dominating your thoughts, you find it difficult to think about going into work the next day. You call up Robby to help you through it

Warnings: nurse!reader, fem!reader, death of a father, grief, overwhelming sadness, talk of Adamson's death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 950

A.N: I have never lost a parent, but I tried my best. If you ever need to talk I'm always here for you guys <3 Also first time writing for robby and the pitt (that's why its so short lmao) so let me know if i need to work on anything or something lol

•

Tomorrow was the end of your bereavement leave and the thought of getting out of bed and going to work as if everything was fine petrified you.

You would have to step into the trauma center and focus on saving people--saving other people's fathers so they didn't lose them like you did just a week ago. You would have to give them chest compressions or a blood transfusion and while you should be focused on their care, your mind would wander and you would wonder if you father received the same treatment, states away, and if they did why didn't it work?

Thoughts like these plague you enough that you pull your covers over your head, the sunlight filtering in through your blinds irritating. Your face aches from crying and your throat is raw from sobbing into your pillow. The thought of returning to work and seeing sons and daughters go through the exact same thing difficult to swallow.

It was hard before his accident, you know this, because you always imagined the father lying in Trauma 1 with their child holding his hand while pleading for them to wake up was you. But now it really was. Tomorrow when you brought a kid to their dying dad you would now see yourself, ragged and exhausted and racked with despair.

Your back aches from laying in your bed.

Your phone dings with a text from Dana, telling you that you could take another day off if you felt you needed it. All week your coworkers had sent you heartfelt messages that made the whole process just a little bit more bearable. Your fingers hover over the keyboard to reply to Dana. Of course you wanted more time; going back to normal felt like an insult to your father's memory and simply dragging yourself there seemed like an impossible task.

But something stopped you from simply taking her up on the offer.

Instead, you text Robby to meet you at your apartment after his shift. He was your mentor, your friend, and most of all, the man you trusted with your life. Having lost someone akin to a parent, you knew he could tell you what to do.

He replies moments later, assuring you he'd be there when he's able to, and it all feels a little less scary knowing that.

Robby comes late in the night, bags under his eyes and short hair resting in chaos. His sad deep brown eyes track your movements as you let him inside and offer him tea. You can feel his gaze on the back of your neck and you shiver when his hands accompany them on your skin. His soft touches contrasted with his bone crushing hugs comfort you in a way the countless amount of sympathies from relatives and friends haven't.

On your couch, his hands clasp on of yours, thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

"How did you do it?" You finally ask, voice cracking after not being used in days. You must sound so fragile because he frowns. "How did you just get back up and start another day after Adamson's death?"

He heaves out a sigh at the mention of his mentor. "It was hard," He states, nodding almost to himself. "So excruciatingly hard, like the world just crumbled beneath my feet and I somehow had to just keep walking like nothing was wrong."

Robby swallows roughly, thinking of his next words carefully. You bump his knee with your own, reminding him that you're still there with him. "But I knew I had to get up and continue on."

"I just...I just know I'm gonna have to save someone's father or watch someone's father die...and I just don't know how I can do that anymore without seeing him." You admit, looking past his shoulder to the yellow light of your lamp, hoping your tears would fade.

"The more you sit here and think about your father's passing, the tougher it will be to get up and resume your life." Robby shrugs. "It's a bitch, but it's true. You can't let the grief eat you alive, your father wouldn't want that."

Bottom lip wobbling, your eyes find Robby's. While your vision is blurry with tears, you can still see that his are as well.

"It's been well over a year since my mentor died but...but I know that if I stop for even a moment to lay down, I know my grief would consume me to the point of no return. He wanted me to be a great doctor and goddamn it, I'll be a great doctor for me, my patients, and for him." Robby huffs out a rough laugh. "Wherever he is, I'll make sure he knows he taught me well." His own smile is tight, red dusting around his eyes.

"You think I can do it?" You ask after a beat.

"Kid, I know you can do it. And you won't have to do it alone, either." Bowing his head, he searches for your eyes once again. "It gets easier, it really does, the grief you'll hold onto for the rest of your life will be a reminder of all the love you had for him and all the love he had for you. You just have to hold onto it and not let it consume you, ok?"

You take a deep and shuddering breath and nod. "Ok." Squeezing your eyes shut you lean into your attending and he wraps his arms around you once again. "Thank you, Robby." You whisper into his jacket.

"Any time, kid." He replies softly into the top of your head, lips grazing your hair. "We've got you."

•

[emeraldserenade]

Save Me ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín and Sam noticed the signs but they hoped they were wrong.

tw: fem!reader, spousal abuse, Sam and Joaquín being the best at helping reader, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Guys, I started avidly reading Sam fics too and I am starved for fics. Why does almost no one write for him? (Does anyone have any recs?) Also, I said I wanted to post everyday but I was tired after class and took a nap instead so this is coming out late (12:20am).

➽──────────────❥

It started with the flinching, when you first joined Sam and Joaquín you were a force to be messed with. But now, you flinched when someone raised their voice or if someone moved just a little too fast. You blamed it on the lack of sleep and the amount of caffeine you drink, but Joaquín wasn't buying it.

Next was the smaller bruises, you claimed they just showed up and that your doctor said it happens because of your lack in iron. But they were vaguely hand and finger shaped, like someone was holding onto you too tight.

Then it was the constant apologies, even when it wasn't your fault. You would apologize for running into a table or if you made a noise you deemed too loud. You would apologize for speaking your mind when you weren't asked and you apologized for talking too long when you announced you were leaving for a bit.

Sam picked up on it too, he brought it up with Joaquín. Sam wanted to make sure that he wasn't reading too much into it, and when Joaquín said he noticed the same thing, they both knew they needed to confront you. They agreed that they would the next day at work, but you called in sick. So they pushed it off until you came in, but that day never happened.

You tracked the boys, you three had a Life360 so you could keep track of each other. You saw that they were both at Joaquín's and you drove there, your bags and belonging packed with you. Your lip throbbed where it was split open and you could tell you looked horrible.

You got to Joaquín's and parked your car by Sam's, you knocked on the door and it didn't take long until you were sat on a dining room chair while they helped you. You could help but sob and apologize, you felt helpless. There you were crying over your now ex after he beat you, again, when you were supposed to be a superhero. The irony wasn't lost on you, but it made you feel worse.

"Angel," Joaquín's soft voice broke you out of your thoughts and you noticed Sam was missing. "Sam's starting the shower for you, come on," Joaquín helped you up and you two walked to the bathroom.

"I'll go grab your bags from the car," Sam told you and your gratefully nodded.

"You can stay here, I know you're going to argue but it's an offer. Think about it," Joaquín told you before gently shutting the door. You were washing away your feeling of insecurity and unease when Sam gently cracked the door.

"I'm going to place your bag right here on the counter for you, if you need anything yell for one of us," Sam told you before leaving. You finished your shower and wrapped yourself in the towel before stepping out of the shower. You walked to your bag and just stared in the mirror for a moment. You were right, you looked horrible. Your lip was split, but you could tell that, but you had a hand shaped bruise on your chest from where he had pushed you against the wall and held you there. There was more, bruises around your body and they were just painful reminders that you weren't strong enough to stop him.

You slowly got dressed, picking out your favorite pajamas. It was just a green silk nightgown but it hit mid-thigh and it would let you put bruise cream on your bruises. You walked out to the living room and sat down on the couch between the two, it only took a moment before you started tearing up again.

"I feel like a failure," you told them. "I couldn't even keep myself safe, how am I supposed to keep the world safe?"

"What you went through does not make you any less of a hero or any less strong. You had no control over it and it wasn't your fault," Sam took the lead in the conversation, his time helping at the VA coming in handy. "You went through the unimaginable, it had to be hard. You are still the strong and confident women from before. You just have to find her," Sam assured you.

"And we will be there every step of the way," Joaquín added and you smiled for the first time that night. You felt safe and loved at Joaquín's and you realized that you do want to stay.

"Is that offer to stay still on the table?" You questioned.

"Of course it is, come on, I'll show you the room," Joaquín stood and you and Sam followed suit. As you walked down the hallway and to the room, you realized you were in the road of recovery. It may be hard and long, but you had two people you knew loved and cared for you were helping. Plus, now you could hopefully find the courage to tell Joaquín how you felt. Though that might have to wait until you weren't freshly out of a relationship.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[livlocus]

Love Buzz (Jason Grace x Fem!Reader)

Characters: Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Percy Jackson

Requested by @jgraceluvr: Hello may o have a Jason grace fic when the reader had a huge crush on him but don’t make a move because he is the ✨mighty son of Jupiter praetor✨ but in reality he is the biggest softie ever and he is like. Man I want I to ask her out but she is intimidated ? With a piper and Leo match maker ? Please

Summary: Jason Grace has a crush on you, but after a sparring incident, he is much too afraid to talk to you. Unknown to him, you also have a crush on Jason, so Piper embraces her parentage and forces Leo to play matchmaker with her for you and Jason.

Warnings: my grammar, cursing, kissing, crack fic vibes ??? genuinely lost track of where this was supposed to go about halfway through, and now we are here i fear

Word Count: 6.6k (it literally would not stop)

Liv Yaps: heeyyy... so i hope that this has the vibe that you wanted! i'm realizing that this accidentally turned into a crack fic... idk how it got so dramatic but i just could not stop so i fear it spiraled a bit haha i tried my best and it took me a while to fully conceptualize this but then it all like, word-vomited out of me haha. (yes i was in fact listening to love buzz by nirvana while i was making the post so that is the name now, the bassline has infiltrated my brain) i tried to make jason seem all praetor-y but also the true awkward jock-nerd hybrid that we have come to love, i feel like it's kinda ooc.... idk i was on a lot of caffeine when i finally pumped this out haha. i fully made up what the training area at chb looks like, i genuinely have no idea if they ever describe it in the books (im sure that they do and i just don't remember lmao) i also have to apologize for that entire sparring sequence because i have absolutely no clue how to write physcial fighting scenes lmao but i hope that you like it :)

Piper was annoyed. She had just spent the past three days convincing Jason to talk to you, and now here you all were. Jason at the Zeus table eating an embarrassingly plain waffle and stealing glances at you, so quick that they might as well not have been there. His blue eyes narrow and darting from his waffle to you and then back to his waffle. 

Piper was ready to get up from the Aphrodite table and drag Jason from his waffle to you, over at your table, sitting with your siblings. She felt like she was living in one of those sitcoms that her dad just got cast in, watching you two exchange longing glances from across the dining pavilion without the other one noticing. 

You had told Piper about your crush on Jason months ago after you practically tripped over your own two feet to get away from him at the campfire when he tried to sit next to you and Piper. When Piper hit you with a “just talk to him, he literally sat next to us on purpose,” you almost choked on your own tongue trying to explain all of the reasons why the son of Jupiter could never like you like that. 

You knew of Jason Grace, but you didn’t know Jason Grace. He was one of the seven demigods who defeated Gaea, not to mention that he used to be a praetor when he was at Camp Jupiter before the war. He still had that air about him now, even when he was just a camper here at Camp Half-Blood. His shoulders constantly squared, his posture always perfect, that little scar on his lip so rugged, his sky blue eyes gleaming with an inherent authority, like just his gaze demanded your attention and your obedience. It was obvious that his father was Jupiter, the air seemed to practically buzz whenever he was around, and it made your cheeks flush.

Jason had killed titans with his bare hands, or so you had heard. He apparently almost caused absolute chaos in New Rome when he tried to change the name of the Twelfth Legion to the First Legion when he was elected as Praetor. The stories of his quests were practically on level with Percy Jackson, saving the world every summer on the other side of the country, and you didn’t even know about it until the whole Jason and Percy switching debacle a summer or two ago.

But for right now, you were doing exactly what Piper saw, avoiding Jason’s gaze so that you could steal a few glances as you picked at the remains of your breakfast. Each time your eyes met, you practically jumped and averted your line of sight to look at anything else. Suddenly, your now soggy toast seemed to hold the secrets of the universe as you tried to stop the creeping flush that tried to spread across your cheeks. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Jason probably looked at you because of your own staring, that he somehow felt your gaze on his perfect, perfect—stupidly perfect face.

Piper could scream. She could, and maybe she actually would scream if this kept going the way it was. She waved at Leo from across the dining pavilion, a signal to meet her after breakfast. 

She had a plan.

-_-

The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky, beating down on you as you sat on the ground, gulping water. Piper somehow managed to get your sparing block switched with Leo’s so that you could spar with her. She didn’t tell you that’s why, but that had to be the reason, surely there was no other reason. This did just so happen to be the block that Jason had, but you tried not to think too hard about that, or else you would have fallen flat on your ass the second that you and Piper started to spar with your wooden sword and dagger. 

Piper had exhausted you with endless maneuvering and different kinds of tactics that left you winded and already sore as you held on to your water bottle. You were on the sidelines now, with Piper on your left, watching the other pairs practice different moves and weapons. Three pairs usually went at a time; there were three circles sprayed in the grass, all encompassed by a larger oval. Each pair stayed in their circle, and bystanders weren’t allowed to cross into the oval for “insurance reasons” or whatever Mr. D had said. Right now, there were only two pairs, leaving one of the rings open.

Percy was standing on the other side and ran over to quickly claim the empty ring. He stretched his hand up high in the air, looking off to the side for a specific someone to join him to spar. When you saw that Jason was the one he was waving over, your breath caught in your throat. 

When the others saw that Jason was the one that Percy had waved over, they let out a series of sighs and grumbles, and maybe a few people let out excited murmurs. Whenever Percy and Jason sparred, it always turned into an… event, to say the least, which is why the pairs in the other two rings quickly finished as Jason made his way into the circle with Percy. Their sparring sessions had a reputation for getting out of hand; people always said it was a combination of Percy’s ability to function off of pure spite and Jason’s inability to let himself lose. To say that the two boys had a competitive streak was the understatement of the century.

Before Chiron had to give them limitations to their rounds of sparring, they would exchange blows for upwards of an hour, taking up the entire oval that encompassed the three sparring rings with water splashing, wind blowing, and an occasional clap of thunder somewhere off in the distance whenever Percy got in a good hit. Their matches tended to end in draws, with other campers complaining about how they were taking too long and that others needed a turn.

You watched them as they started to spar, both with wooden swords. Your eyes were glued to Jason, unable to look away from his perfect posture or his sharp eyes. Percy was lunging forward, making the first move with his wooden sword pointed at Jason. As always, Jason’s shoulders were squared, and his face was steady when he dodged Percy’s skillful attempt at him. The only indicator of any physical effort was how his glasses slid down his nose just a bit and how that scar on his lip stretched as his breathing got a bit heavier. That’s how it usually was; no matter how long Jason spent at Camp Half-Blood, his years of Roman training were always blatantly obvious. He was the poster child of restraint, barely even grimacing as Percy threw snarky remarks at him that you couldn’t quite hear.

They went on like that for around twenty minutes, mist started to gather around Percy’s feet, and wind seemed to start picking up around Jason, blowing around not only the hair of the two boys, but also your own. There was that faint buzz in the air that seemed to appear whenever Jason had that look in his eyes. They exchanged blow after blow, neither of them appearing to be slowing down anytime soon. That was, until Jason somehow made eye contact with you from across the field.

-_-

Jason was freaking out. He knew that he shouldn’t have been freaking out, but that wasn’t helping him at the moment as he jumped out of the way of Percy’s wooden sword. 

He needed this sparring match to go well. No, scratch that, he needed it to go better than well, he needed this to go perfectly. This couldn’t be one of those days where he and Percy hit their forty-five-minute sparring limit and had to end in a draw. No, no, he needed to beat Percy, preferably while you were still watching him. Jason had a plan; in his mind, it was a brilliant plan. He was going to win this match and then walk up to you while he was still basking in the glorious win over Percy and ask if you wanted to sit next to him during the campfire tonight. 

You would have to say yes, especially because he would have beaten Percy already. You would say yes, right? Jason knew that he was out of his depth here, he truly had no idea what to do, and that scared him. He was always supposed to know what to do, always supposed to have a next step or a plan B. But whenever he thought about you, his brain short-circuited, all of his functioning brain cells died violent deaths, and his heart just about stopped. You had to say yes. Jason didn’t know any other way to go about this, in all honesty.

When he had gone to Piper in a frenzy, pacing anxiously around the Aphrodite cabin, trying to explain these feelings that he had in his chest whenever he looked at you, Piper literally laughed at him. She had gone, “Jason, that’s either indigestion, or you have a crush on her, maybe it’s both?” Then, when Jason had run his hands over his face and groaned in frustration because why was Piper always so right? She suggested throwing a match with Percy, purposely losing, because she somehow had a vibe (whatever that meant) that you were a teensy bit intimidated by Jason. That it would make him seem less… “Praetor-y.”

Frankly, Jason had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. He understood why some people would be intimidated by him; some of the legionaries back at Camp Jupiter still gave him that look when he would visit, remembering how he had killed Krios, how that had made him Praetor. But you had never seen that side of him before; you had no reason to be intimidated by Jason, or so he thought. Wouldn’t losing a match against Percy make him look bad? Sure, he had absolutely no idea about how he should ask you out, but that was the last thing he wanted to do right now: look bad, or even worse, weak in front of you. 

And, it was going pretty well, Percy hadn’t managed to land a single hit on Jason. He was going to tire Percy out until he became just a little bit more sloppy, then that would guarantee his win, and that would mean that you would say yes—

You. Jason had managed to dodge another one of Percy’s swings, and the first thing his eyes latched onto was you. Of course, it was you. The gods had a cruel sense of humor sometimes. 

Was there a god of making eye contact with the wrong person at the worst time imaginable? 

If there was, Jason was sure that he had done something to piss them off because why did you have to look at him like that. Like he was holding up the sky, like he was holding up the sky for you. Gods know that he would, though he’s barely even had one full conversation with you, and he would switch places with Atlas in a heartbeat for you. The way that the wind was whipping your hair around your face, how it stuck to the thin, gleaming layer of sweat on your skin—Jason couldn’t help but stare. He really couldn’t help it, that and the way his breath caught in his throat, he couldn’t help it. You might as well have been glowing.

That was his first mistake—although Piper would later claim that it was his fourth—letting himself lock eyes with you for a millisecond too long. Percy undoubtedly saw that Jason was distracted, which was a rare sight in and of itself, and used it to his advantage. He swung his wooden sword at Jason while he was too busy looking at you like some sort of lovesick puppy.

Jason stumbled for the first time in the twenty minutes that they had been sparring, and he cursed under his breath, calling Percy a donkey in Latin. The grunted “asinus,” barely audible over the sound of the wind whipping around his head, filling his ears with the hollow sound of his own loss of self-control. He couldn’t help that either, he was going to look bad in front of you. 

Jason needed to gain control of this match quickly, he knew that, he really did, but he couldn’t stop looking over Percy’s shoulder to try and steal another glance at you. The already loosened grasp that Jason had on his composure was rapidly slipping as he tried to do too many things at once—make sure that Percy didn’t manage to pin him down, think of a quick strategy to somehow win this match, steal a few more quick looks at you, all while trying to stay composed enough so he didn’t look like a complete idiot in front of the entire camp. 

A distant crack of thunder made it unfortunately obvious that Jason was not doing a good job at multitasking at the moment. But then again, maybe he was, because now he had a strategy that he could focus on instead of how your eyes were watching his every move. It was simple, something that he’s done too many times to count in battles that were much more stressful than this. His feet slid in the grass, the dirt having turned into mud. Percy. The mist that was gathered around his feet had soaked the ground, turning the once solid sparring ring into mushy mud that made Jason’s feet unsteady.

Jason leaned to the left as Percy brought his wooden sword towards him, successfully dodging the swing. Jason continued to move, a fluid motion as his composure returned now that he had something besides you to focus on. He lunged at Percy, finally landing a blow to the top of his arm, right below his shoulder, knocking Percy off balance just enough for Jason to get back on level footing with him. 

He did his absolute best to focus on the grin that Percy was giving him instead of the wide-eyed look that you were giving Jason over Percy’s shoulder. Jason was trying so hard to stay concentrated on the way that Percy’s feet were shifting in the mud, like he was about to lunge at Jason again. His eyes darted from Percy to you, back and forth so many times that it almost made him dizzy.

Stop that, she’s watching.

The more that Jason tried to concentrate on the sparring match—the dodging, the swinging, the not slipping in mud—the more he tried to look for you. He wanted to see your face, see what you thought about him. His body was on autopilot, dodging and swinging and blocking without a second thought. The familiarity of his movements allowed him to divert just a sliver of his focus to you, looking for your face among the other campers watching. 

It was a splash of water on the back of Jason’s head as he swung his wooden sword at Percy’s leg that forced him to concentrate, really concentrate. Chiron had made a rule for Jason and Percy when they were sparring: no godly given abilities. No water, no lightning, no wind, no storms, nothing. Jason always tried to follow those rules, he really did, but when Percy decided to disregard Chiron’s rules, Jason was usually left with no choice but to follow suit if he wanted to win. 

Maybe I could manage to focus enough to get a gust of wind to knock Percy off balance? Or maybe even enough to knock him over? 

Another spin around the ring and a bout of eye contact with you derailed his train of thought.

Focus, focus, focus—

Another block.

One more swing.

Maybe a little too much static gathering on the tips of Jason’s fingers—

Two more seconds of his eyes looking for yours.

Focus, focus, breathe—

A quick lean to the left.

He didn’t even notice the buzz in the air, how the hair on his arm started to stand up just enough to mean something, but he was too worried about you watching him to realize what it meant. 

Maybe sweep out Percy’s feet? No, too much mud for that—

A clap of thunder somewhere behind him.

Half a spin to duck out of the way of Percy.

Three more seconds of brief eye contact with you as he blocked with his sword.

A swing of Jason’s sword into Percy’s.

Tiny sparks snapped across his fingers, up his arm.

Negligible.

Jason’s heart was beating so hard he thought it would beat out of his chest. This match essentially had no stakes, no one here was going to die if he lost, no one was going to try to end the world if Jason missed the next swing of his wooden sword. 

But she was watching. 

Jason needed you to see him win so that you would say yes, and then he would get to sit next to you at the campfire and then—

Then, he made eye contact with you again. 

And it looked like you were… blushing? 

Why is she blushing? Did I do something weird? I’m holding my sword the right way, I always do, so it’s not that—

The electricity snapping along Jason’s arms was audible now, the sharp crackling breaking through the thought-spiral he was constructing in his head.

Shit, shit, shit, that has to stop, shit, shit—

Jason could feel himself spinning out, like a spinning top that was losing its speed and was about to fall over and roll away. Percy hit the inside of his knee, and Jason lost his balance. 

One last glance at you before he fell into the mud. One barely audible curse in Latin before all of his dignity left his body, before he accepted his fate of being forever alone, never even able to sit next to you at the campfire. 

One last glance at you before that buzzing in the air and that static dancing across his fingers became a problem. One last glance before that iron grip Jason had on his self-restraint crumbled to dust. One last glance before there was a crack, and there was a patch of burnt grass less than ten feet in front of you.

Jason’s entire face went hot, and he didn’t get up from the mud. He couldn’t get up from the mud, he was going to die here. He was going to pray to Hades that the earth swallow him whole right now. He was going to die of embarrassment before he even made it back to Cabin 1. Jason didn’t even flinch when Percy held the tip of his wooden sword at Jason’s neck to show that he had won. Jason didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Percy when he told the son of Jupiter that he just fried the training grounds like an overcooked fish stick. He was going to let himself grow old and die in this patch of mud. He could practically hear Piper stare at him from across the field. 

That was not how this was supposed to go.

He waited a minute before he turned his head to the side, to see just how horribly he had messed up, but you weren’t even there anymore. Jason let himself sink further into the mud with a sigh that Reyna would have called “pitiful.”

-_-

You didn’t mean to run back to your cabin after almost being hit by lightning, but you needed a nap after that. Maybe a cold shower, too. 

It didn’t really scare you, per se, you had been a summer camper at Camp Half-Blood since you were little, so you were used to having multiple near-death encounters every summer. But it was a little unnerving that your mega-crush had just accidentally sent a bolt of lightning right at you as he lost his sparring match. 

It was obviously an accident, anyone with eyes could tell. Honestly, today was probably going to go down in history as the day that the Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, ex-Praetor of Camp Jupiter, champion of Juno, lost his composure during a sparring match. You didn’t really know why he started sparking like an electric candle lighter, but the fact that he looked right at you when it happened only fed into your delusional fantasy that he might like you back.

As a reward for not melting into a puddle from all of the eye contact that Jason made with you during his match with Percy, you flopped onto your bed. You nuzzled into your pillow, not even bothering to get under the covers in your training clothes. It was gross, but you wanted to fit in this nap before anyone noticed you were gone. 

You drifted off without much trouble, the smell of ozone still fresh in your nose.

-_-

“Get up! I need you to help me with something,” was the first thing that you heard as Piper shook you awake from your nap. 

“Wha—“ your voice was still a bit raspy from your nap, and you had to blink the sleep out of your eyes as Piper practically dragged you upright.

“Wipe your face off, you drooled all over,” Piper was already going through your desk. You didn’t really mind, that was just how being friends with Piper worked. She barged into your cabin and went through your things sometimes, and in exchange, you got one of the best friends you could have ever asked for at camp. You ran your hand over your cheek, effectively getting rid of the dried trail of drool Piper had so gracefully pointed out.

“Oh!” She tossed two tubes at you from your desk, “Put these on before you come and help me.”

Looking down at the two tubes in your hand, you quickly realized that one was mascara and the other was lip gloss.

“Do I really need this, Piper? What do you even need help with?”

“Just trust me! Put it on and then follow me, I need your help!”

You weren’t sure if she was using her charmspeak or not, but regardless, you reluctantly got up from your oh-so-cozy bed and swiped on your mascara and lip gloss. It felt silly to do this now, right before the campfire, where no one would even be able to see your face in the dark. But you let Piper win this one.

“Care to mention what I’m going to be helping you with?” You slipped on your shoes and followed Piper out of your cabin.

“No, not really,” she responded to you, head over her shoulder, tone a bit too matter-of-fact. You pressed your lips together into a tight line and huffed out a breath through your nose in defeat.

Piper led you all the way to her cabin, the Aphrodite Cabin, and right to where her bed was, stopping in front of her closet. 

You looked around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

“Are you going to tell me now?”

“Yeah, yeah—just look in there for me, do you see that?” Piper reached across you, opening the closet door. The slotted French doors folded open, revealing the clothes and shoes that you had come to know as Piper’s. She pointed to something in the far corner of the closet, but it was too far, too dark to see anything there.

“What are you talking about?” You took a step closer to the closet, leaning in just a little bit to try to get a better look.

“Right there—you’ll see it better if you get a little closer,” Piper insisted, pointing her finger at the corner again, “trust me, you’ll know when you see it. Yeah, see, right there!”

You looked behind you at Piper, making a face as if to ask “literally what the fuck are you talking about?” There was nothing. Piper just shrugged at you and pointed again, telling you to look closer. 

“Piper, I don’t see anything,” you complained, stepping closer to the closet. You might as well have been stepping into it now. You even leaned in, trying to get a better angle to see the corner of the closet, “What are you talking abou—“

That’s when Piper pushed you into her closet.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Piper mumbled as she shut the doors.

“Dude—Piper—what are you doing?” You tried your best to push the doors back open, but there was an audible click.

She locked me in her closet?!?

“Trust me, I promise you’ll be thanking me later!”

“Piper, you just locked me in your closet! There isn’t even a light in here!”

“Give it five minutes, and then you’ll be happy that I locked you in my closet!”

You threw up your hands in disbelief because literally what?

It was dark, and the slots from the French doors didn’t let in much light. The closet really wasn’t that big either. You were standing between Piper’s tank tops, and your feet were on top of a pair of boots.

“This better be good, Piper.”

-_-

Jason was face down in his bed. He was sulking. He was rarely allowed to sulk back at Camp Jupiter, there was too much to do. Because of that, he never got used to sulking. But now, at Camp Half-Blood, there was time to sulk, so that’s what he was doing. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, ex-Praetor of Camp Jupiter, the champion of Juno, was sulking face down in his bed. With a pillow over his head to muffle the sounds of his own breathing and the sounds of the outside world that leaked in through the cracks in the marble of Cabin 1. 

To say that Jason was embarrassed would do the blood pooling in his cheeks a disservice, it would be an insult to his teeth that he clenched just to say that Jason was embarrassed. 

Jason was mortified. 

He had finally figured out how to ask you out, finally—and then he almost fried you like a vendor at a county carnival would do to an Oreo! Jason was never going to leave Cabin 1. 

I am never leaving, I’m going to rot here, never going to see the light of day ever again, never, ever, I am one with my mattress, never going to—

“Hey, Big J!”

Jason just grunted into his covers in response as Leo interrupted the downward trajectory of his inner monologue.

“Why do you look worse than that time Piper had to charmspeak you back to life?”

Jason rolled over on his bed, flopping his arms dramatically. 

“Leo, I almost fried her. She definitely hates me now.”

“Dude, you’re not looking at the bigger picture.”

Jason lifted his head from his bed to look at Leo, raising an eyebrow at him, almost willing him to continue and explain this “bigger picture.”

“You didn’t almost fry just her, you almost fried like, ten other campers that were standing there! So don’t worry about singling her out.”

Jason groaned and put the pillow over his face, blocking out the light.

“You’re not helping me right now, Leo.” Jason’s voice was muffled by the pillow.

“What?” Leo asked in a voice that was probably two octaves higher than his usual voice, “J Man, it’ll be fine. And anyway, Piper needs your help with something.”

Jason lifted the pillow from his head and sat up. Anything to not think about how horribly that had just gone.

“She needs someone who can reach all the way up in her closet to change the light bulb or something,” Leo made a strange face, but the overwhelming need to be useful was overpowering Jason’s better judgment, and he stood up from his bed. 

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Jason ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He didn’t really care that it stuck up, making it look like he was the one who almost got fried.

“Alright,” Leo smiled, it was small and impish. It made Jason do a double-take. “Come on, Sparky, to the Aphrodite Cabin!”

Leo walked out of Cabin 1 with a little too much pep in his step. Jason followed anyway. 

-_-

Jason really didn’t think that Piper would have been able to shove him that hard into her closet, but here he was, face-planting into her graphic t-shirts. And he was stepping on shoes, probably Piper’s shoes, except—except they were your shoes.

Jason’s brain couldn’t keep up with what his eyes were seeing as he adjusted to the dim lighting in Piper’s closet. He heard the door lock, though. It was a clicking noise, followed by some mumbling from Leo about how he had “reinforced the locks” and then some metal clanking.

He could see you now, the light coming through the slats of the closet doors in thin lines on your face, outlining all of the high points of your face. Jason couldn’t help but stare. Again.

You didn’t know what to do. Piper’s grand idea was to lock you in her closet with Jason Grace? You simply stared at the now locked closet doors, then at Jason, and back to the doors. 

“Have fun in there, you two!” Piper said from the other side of the French doors, “We won’t be back until after the campfire—“

“Yeah, so make yourselves busy!” Leo interrupted, and the two of you could hear Piper tell him to shut up from inside the closet. The two of you flushed at the implications.

“—So figure out whatever it is you two have going on before we get back,” Piper continued, “come on, Leo.”

“Hey—don’t grab me so hard!”

Their footsteps and bickering faded away, and you were left locked in Piper’s closet with Jason Grace.

Even in this lighting, while he was struggling to speak coherently, the poised and proper son of Jupiter, now stuttering, was looking almost too good. The flush on his cheeks gave him an adorable boyish look on his usually commanding, stony face.

“Uh—hey… uhm—“ Jason sputtered, his face getting warmer than he would have liked it to be, “I—I’m really sorry about earlier, it was a total accident! I wasn’t even aiming for you, I just couldn’t stop looking at you—er, I mean, I just—“

“Well—you know, I just—it’s okay…” You spoke quietly, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would crack from the nerves. 

He couldn’t stop looking at me.

You and Jason stood in Piper’s closet in an awkward silence. Every time you bumped your elbow into one of her sweaters, it shocked you. You didn’t say anything else, too scared to somehow embarrass yourself in front of Jason. He was just too perfect. The two of you stood there, cramped by hangers and boots, too nervous to speak further. 

“Really?” Jason finally found his words, a bit surprised that you said it was okay that he almost electrocuted you, his voice was probably a little bit too high, “but I—I almost got you—“

“Yeah,” you interrupted him, half expecting Jason to just keep talking because he seemed like when he had an idea, he finished it, but he paused when he heard your voice. Your heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of your chest like it had that one time Jason had tried to sit next to you and Piper at the campfire. He seemed less… formal. Softer, even. It made your cheeks blush. 

He wants to listen to me.

“I mean, you didn’t ‘get me’ and besides, I practically almost die every summer here anyway. Trust me when I say that I’ve come a lot closer to getting killed at camp than almost getting struck by lightning.”

Jason let out an awkward laugh. It was like someone was squeezing his lungs in a vice and squeezing out the pathetic sound the same way you squeeze out toothpaste from an almost empty tube. 

That sounded like a duck, he thought to himself. Jason wanted to shrink down to be small enough to climb through the minuscule slats in the closet door. I bet she thinks that I sounded like a duck just now—

“So you don’t… You don’t despise me for almost—almost electrocuting you?” Jason’s voice was small, almost timid, as he asked you. He was scared, scared that you would say that you were afraid of him, that you didn’t want to be so close to him.

“Oh gods, no! I didn’t—I don’t despise you,” the idea of despising Jason for anything made you almost laugh, but you were too nervous to laugh right now. He sounded too vulnerable, almost… imperfect. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

Jason did his best to search your face in the dark, using the tiny lines of light that filtered in through the closet door, looking for any signs that you weren’t telling the truth. A wrinkle on your forehead, lines on the outside corners of your eyes, a slight tilt to the corner of your lips. 

He couldn’t find any of those on your face, he couldn’t find any indicator that you were lying to him. You really didn’t hate him for what he did during the sparring match with Percy today. Jason had never been so shocked and so relieved at the same time before. He let his eyes travel back down to your lips. 

A mistake.

Jason should not have looked at your lips. They were perfect, and they were glossy. Jason didn’t know how you made them look like that, and when he thought about it too hard, he blushed. This was a bad, bad, bad idea because now that’s all he could look at. All he could focus on now was your lips. All of those years of perfecting his willpower, of chiseling his impeccable composure to be exactly what it needed to be, a perfect mask of marble, wasted. Utterly wasted because you were right in front of him.

The face that Jason was making, brows furrowed, bright blue eyes wide, lips parted just enough to see the glint of his teeth, the scar above his lip catching a bit of the light that filtered in through the doors, and that blush that crept up his neck all the way up to his ears, it all made you weak in the knees. He was looking at you, his eyes boring into your face, drinking up every detail outlined by the thin rays of artificial light that streamed in through the slats of the doors. 

This was real, the way that he was looking at you. Almost too real, you had to remind yourself that you were less than a foot away from each other in Piper’s closet, not some dreamland. That the two of you were stuffed uncomfortably between clothing hangers, shoes, and random sweaters that had fallen on the floor. But you two were so close. That strange, irrational fear you had of the Jason Grace seemed to fall away. He was just a boy, after all. Maybe Piper was right… You wouldn’t tell her that, though. 

“I just—I never do that,” Jason admitted, sounding a bit dazed, still looking at your lips. There was a faint buzzing in the air. Not quite like the buzzing from earlier, not the buzz before a lightning strike. No, this was more mundane, more homely. This sounded like the buzz of a light bulb right before it’s about to blow out, more of a hum, really. 

“That’s alright,” you whispered, feeling a matching flush creep up your neck and make its way to your ears. Your voice was quiet enough that Jason leaned in a bit more so that he could hear you. The humming noise was louder as he got closer to you. That buzz, the humming noise, was coming from Jason. 

You looked up at his face, wide eyes meeting wide eyes. Your hands moved first. They didn’t even have to move that far; the closet was small. A few inches of movement,” and your hands were on his chest. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat, like he was about to jerk away. But he didn’t. Jason just leaned in a bit closer, his hands hesitantly finding their way around you, to your sides. You could feel his breath on your skin. 

“Are you okay if—is it alright if I—“ Jason’s brain was melting out of his ears, and his tongue felt useless, “can I please kiss you?”

The tip of his broad Roman nose brushed against yours as you nodded your head. The Jason Grace was about to kiss you. Your heart was fluttering, and your stomach might as well have been doing parkour. He was so close to you. Jason still smelled like ozone, and you both ignored the humming.

Jason’s eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes and then back to your lips. He moved in to close the gap between the two of you. He could taste the lip gloss you were wearing, but he barely noticed. Jason didn’t even know what planet he was on anymore. You could have told him that he was on the moon for all he cared, as long as this moment never ended. 

His hands traveled slowly up your body, grazing along your t-shirt as his hands found their very natural position on either side of your head, holding it closer to his. You never wanted this moment to end, but unfortunately, your lungs decided that the moment was over. You had to pull your head back just a little bit, enough to suck in a quick breath. 

You could see Jason’s eyes, they were almost entirely black, that sky blue nearly engulfed by his pupils. Both of you were breathing heavily, but that pull was still there. The ever-present, almost magnetic pull that made you reach back up to Jason, connecting your lips for another kiss. It was addicting, filling your brain with fizz, like someone had carbonated your blood.

When your lips were about to meet for a second time, right before they touched, not even millimeters apart, there was a snap, and you pulled away. It felt like you had gotten one of the worst static shocks of your life, but it was from Jason.

“I’m so sorry—I have no idea what’s happening to me—“ he stuttered, his face going even redder. His glasses were crooked now, skewed a bit to the left.

You cut him off with a giggle, because how was this real?

“It’s alright,” you told him, moving your head to the side. You planted a kiss of reassurance on his cheek, leaving a sticky outline of your lips with lip gloss. 

Never in a million years would you have thought that you would be the one to reassure Jason in any scenario. But here you were, hands on his shoulders, smiling at the boy you had thought was almost a god himself, telling him that it was okay that he accidentally gave you a static shock while trying to kiss him.

-_-

Piper and Leo eventually returned to the Aphrodite Cabin after the campfire to let the two of you out of her closet. They were very pleasantly surprised when Leo undid the overcomplicated lock he installed and found that the two of you had, in fact, “made yourselves busy.” The lip gloss stains on Jason’s lips and cheeks were more than enough to tell Piper that you ended up happy after she locked you in her closet. 

Maybe Piper should play matchmaker more often?

tags - @jjsblueberry @somewhereincairparavel

(i know that i don't have an official tag list, i just know that i told you guys that i would tag the two of you when i posted this haha)

[just-writing-a-bit]

Who says I don't care?

Natasha Romanoff x female reader

Summary: Y/n is part of the Avengers for a while, but no one really paid attention to her. She feels like she's alone in all of her training and with her thoughts. One night, she goes out on a run, getting lost and returning home later than planned and injured. Natasha noticed her staying away for too long and takes care of her, despite Y/n trying to brush it off at first. Word count: 3.047

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Pov y/n

Natasha has never paid much attention to me. So, I'm surprised when she looks up now as I walk past the kitchen. There is no one else around, the others somewhere scattered around the compound.

"Going for a nightly run, huh?" Nat asks, her eyes darting over my workout clothes, settling on the headlamp I wear. "Or trying to rob someone?"

I don't know what it is about her, why she doesn't care at all. I don't expect to become besties with her but I thought she might be nice and happy to have another woman on the team. But apparently, she couldn't care less. I've tried to be nice and become her friend but her constant remarks and sarcastic comments eventually made me give up. I simply roll my eyes at her. She chuckles amused at my reaction, not taking me very serious. So much about making friends when joining the Avengers.

When I joined them half a year ago, I thought it would be nice, we'd be a team and save the world together. Instead, Natasha hates me and Steve drags me to training every morning. His training plan is hard and leaves me exhausted on the regular. On days where we don't train together, he gave me the homework to go running to keep my stamina up. I skipped that once and the next time had to listen to him lecturing me, so I won't be risking that again.

Today has been really busy though and I've been sitting at my desk most of the time, writing reports, sorting files and digitalizing other files. This part of being an Avenger truly doesn't make me feel like a hero, more like someone at an office job. I hoped for this to be cool but it's a bit of a let down so far. Nonetheless, I hope to help people one day and give them hope when they see me, so I keep pushing myself.

Natasha glances toward the window in the kitchen, darkness mirroring her face back at her. It may be late and I am a bit tired but I will pull through and go to bed right after. Whatever Natasha thinks, she keeps it to herself and I keep walking, heading out of the compound. Going running in the dark isn't my favorite but running track in the gym drives me insane. The same circle over and over again. Makes me feel like a hamster in a wheel.

The air is cold as I step out, but I know it won't bother me once I start running and warm up. I already did my stretching, so I'm ready to go. My steps are soft against the gravel path leading me away from the compound, my headlight the only source of light despite the moon and a few starts. The air smells fresh, the rain from earlier today still hanging in the air. The smell is nice, calming.

I run for quite a while, getting lost in my thoughts and when I slow to a stop to orientate myself, I find myself lost. My breath is still fast from running as I spin around, trying to figure out where I am. There are trees lining the path to my right and an open field to my left. Definitely no place I feel very safe.

I keep moving, even if it's just slow steps, my eyes darting around along with the ball of light coming from my headlamp. The longer I look around, the more panic unfurls inside me. Shit! I really got too lost in my thoughts to keep track of the path. That only happened once before but it was in daylight, so I could easily make my way back but now I can't look far enough to see anything familiar.

I take deep breaths, trying to stay calm but the nerves in my body are raging, every possible bad scenario playing out in my mind. Even a shake of my head doesn't help and I ball my hands into fists.

How could I be so mindless?

The smartest thing to do is probably turn around and take the way back. It has been straight for a while now, so I can't get lost that way. I turn around, my eyes still darting around, trying to assess my surroundings. My heart beats fast but more from fear than exercising. Being lost in the dark is one of my few fears. So much could be happening without my knowledge and I can only react to the things right in front of me. Like a branch reaching onto the path. I bend it away with one hand, glancing around.

The sudden crack in the tree line to my left makes my heart jump, startling me. I jump into action, getting into the stance Steve reminds me of each training session. The branch snaps back into its original position striking me sharply across the face and I wince at the sudden pain. I'm really not in my best condition today. But jumping into the stance was an instinct, one that made me forget about the branch.

I wince again, my face heating as pain pulses through my face. I bite my lip to keep myself from making further noise, not wanting to sound like prey. Instead, I sidestep the branch and keep running again. My mind is overwhelmed with so much happening at once, so many feelings. But I can't break down now. Not here.

For what feels like eternity, I wander around, trying to figure out where to go while keeping my emotions at bay. My face stings and hurts, it still feels like the branch is pushing against my face, even if it's not. Goosebumps have erupted on my arms, but not from the cold. Not just, at least. I hate myself for not taking my phone with me. Usually, it bothers me and I don't listen to music anyway. I want to hear the steady sound of my steps and nature and running is the best moment to clear my head and think. Now, I would be grateful for a phone though. 

Eventually, I spot the compound again, letting out a relieved breath and speeding up, wanting to be inside and safe again. By now, my face is throbbing and I am not sure I want to see what the branch did. It certainly isn't pretty.

Exhausted physically and mentally, I enter the compound and head for the living quarters. Once I'm in my room, I can rest and cry.

I pass by the living room area, noticing the light on. Out of curiosity, I slow my step and glance inside. When I see red hair, I roll my eyes, no one helpful. Not that the others are necessarily warm towards me but at least they acknowledge me.

Natasha turns in the armchair. "That was a long run," she comments as she turns around, her eyes fixing on mine. For a second and probably the first time since I met her, her face drops with some kind of emotion. Something else than distance and smugness.

"What happened?" She asks instead of making a comment like I expected. I wave it of, too exhausted to explain and not in the mood for her sarcasm. I turn on my heal, walking down the hallway, yearning for my bed.

"That looks bad. Did someone attack you?" Natasha asks, her voice softer than I'm used too. Just hearing her talk again is a surprise but together with this slight hint of worry, it's weird.

"No," I answer shortly, not in the mood to relive the moment. Steps follow me and I wonder why she is so persistent all of the sudden. It's not like she cares. "What happened then?" she continues asking. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed by it or feel a little touched.

But then, she never really paid attention to me before, so this feels like a game. I simply shrug, dismissing her question while fighting my own uprising feelings. A soft hand around my wrist holds me back and Nat steps into my vision again. Her expression is surprisingly soft, something I've never seen before.

"Hey, what happened? That looks bad," she eyes my face, her fingers still curled around my wrist. They are warm and almost comforting. Her touch confuses my already messy mind. For a second I consider giving into the comfort, accepting it. But then I remember she probably doesn't really care and pull my hand out of hers.

"Happened during my run," is all I tell her, heading further to my room, fighting the uprising tears. All of this is too much. The fear of being alone in the dark, the feeling of being lost, the throbbing of my face and the exhaustion in my body.

"One doesn't get a red stripe like that on a normal run," Natasha points out, her steps following me. Why is she so persistent? I ignore her, not sure if my voice will stay steady if I talk.

"And you usually don't run for that long. Something must have happened." My irritation at her constant words snap and I spin around, tears pricking in my eyes.

"Why do you care, Romanoff? You don't care about me at all! Why now?" For a second she looks taken aback but then her features soften and she takes a step closer to me.

"Who says I don't care?" She asks and I huff, allowing the first tear to fall. It stings when reaching the spot where I was hit by the branch but I ignore that.

"You show it in the way you act. Message received. Now, just go..." My voice gets weaker as my emotions get stronger, threatening to spill over with force.

Natasha keeps watching me, worry showing on her face. I can't look at her any longer, so I turn away, hiding my tears.

"I do care," she almost whispers. I shake my head, at the verge of a breakdown. She doesn't, she never has and never will.

"I do," she insists and a warm hand is placed on my back.

As if that was all it takes, my composure breaks and I start crying, every emotion pulsing through me in strong waves. All the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the exhaustion.

Natasha is very quick to wrap her arms around me, holding me as my knees give up. Her embrace is warm but I barely register that and for a moment I don't care who she is and just bury my face in her shoulder, shaking while I cry.

Her hand soothingly rubs up and down my back while the other cradles the back of my head. I cry into her shirt, feeling the stinging of the stripe on my face increasing, adding to everything.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," she whispers as if this was normal for us. As if she hasn't ignored me for the most part of half a year. My legs grow weak but she catches me without a problem. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. We'll get you to your room and take care of that injury, okay?"

All I manage is to nod and then follow her slow steps, guiding me backwards through the hallway. I continue crying, my emotions flowing out of me, her arms strong and securely around me. They bring a comfort I didn't expect at all. We reach my room and Natasha carefully settles me on my bed. My tears have stopped and I only feel exhausted and vulnerable now.

"Let's get you cleaned up, so nothing gets infected." She smiles softly at me, a sight I never saw before. All I can do is nod though, too exhausted to do anything else or to protest. For a moment, she disappears into my attached bathroom and comes back with a wet cloth.

"It may sting at first but I promise, it'll be better soon," she says gently, sitting down next to me.

With her free hand, she gently takes my chin, tilting my head into her direction. Our eyes meet. Hers are soft, almost warm. I've never seen them like this and that's confusing me a lot. I want to know what she thinks, why she is helping me. But I don't have the mental or emotional capacity to have that kind of talk now. With the cloth, she begins to dab at my wound. I bite my lip, the slight stinging not pleasant.

"How did this happen? One doesn't get a stripe like this just from being outside." She pulls the cloth away to look at me, concern on her face and a dab of blood on the cloth.

"I was running and got lost..." I trail off, shivering at the memory. "There was a low hanging branch and it snapped into my face when I didn't pay attention." Natasha hums, pressing the cooling cloth back on my face. I'm surprised she doesn't laugh because that's not very hero like and sounds so stupid.

"The blood should dry soon and with a bit of cooling, the swelling will go back too," she tells me, her fingers still holding my chin, the small bit of comfort I get from it soothing my emotions a little. Even if I can't comprehend this whole situation, I allow myself to feel this way because if I don't, I might just break down again.

Comfort is all I've been seeking for since I started this program. It's hard and I fell in bed with an aching body for almost the entirety of the first month. There was so much frustration as well and small injuries. All I wanted was to be hugged by someone, to just get the smallest hint of comfort.

But that doesn't seem like something the Avengers do. Steve always told me to brush it off and Tony merely rolled his eyes when I was complaining. Empathy isn't their strong suit really. Natasha never showed any emotion either and I started to feel alone. The goal of helping people still in my mind, so I bit through it. Finally getting a sense of comfort is what my body has been craving and I don't care about who it's from anymore. Even if it's just for tonight and a one-time-thing, it's still better than nothing at all.

"You shouldn't run alone in the dark anymore," she says softly, so very different from the lectures I usually get from Steve. I'm not used to soft and gentle anymore, but it feels really good. I look into her eyes that assess my face as she continues cooling it. "But I have to keep exercising."

Natasha just hums and locks eyes with me. "Okay. The next time you go out for a run in the dark, you let me know and I'll join you."

The protectiveness in her voice catches me off-guard. "What?"

"I don't like you getting hurt or the thought of you getting lost in the dark. It's not a peaceful place out there. So, the next time you go on a run at night, you let me know and I come with you, making sure you return home safely." Warmth spreads in my chest at her words, the sense of comfort growing. Running with her could be nice, if she stays like this. If she goes back to her cold and distant demeanor, I am not so sure about it. But not having to worry about getting lost sounds nice and for the first time in half a year, I don't feel alone anymore.

"I will," I reply silently. She nods with a soft expression and pulls the cloth again, studying my face.

"The swelling isn't quite gone but is better now. With some rest, you will feel better tomorrow. Besides, you look exhausted." She reaches out and gently tugs a strain of hair behind my ear, the action so surprisingly gently, that I don't know how to react. Natasha gets up and brings the cloth into the bathroom before returning.

"If you need me, you know where my room is. Right?" I hesitate. Of course, I know where her room is. All our rooms have our names on the door. But just the thought of lying in the dark by myself sends cold shivers down my spine. Being alone in the darkness is the last thing I want. I'm aware that I am in no position to make this request but now seems the best moment.

"Stay with me?" I ask silently, feeling incredibly vulnerable. Natasha takes a moment to reply and I expect her to deny and leave but then she nods. "Okay, I can stay with you if that'll make you feel better?"

I nod, relieved I don't have to be alone for the night. I get off the bed and gesture for her to get comfortable before quickly changing in my bathroom. When I get back out, Natasha is in my bed, watching me. It's strange to see the big bed not empty. But also nice, knowing I don't have to be alone with my emotions for once. I slip in on my side and snuggle into the blanket, the comfort of her sheer presence soothing my earlier worry.

"Thank you," I say, looking at her. She gives me another one of her soft and rare smiles.

"You're welcome. Now rest, you deserve it and I will handle Steve tomorrow morning. After tonight, you deserve the training pushed back." My heart feels soft at her words, her looking out for me like no one else did so far.

The protectiveness in her voice isn't lost on me either and I wonder what that's about. But I don't ask, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, I smile at her before closing my eyes. She shuffles in bed next to me, switches off the light and then gets comfortable. I feel something against my knee, something of her but I can't tell what. It brings me comfort nonetheless though and I slip into sleep, feeling a lot better than I did when returning to the compound.

A/n: This is my first post here, so hi? I hope you liked this one shot, it seemed like a good one to start with :D

[littlelovelunette]

Can you write a story where Vi got reader pregnant and but before they find out she is pregnant she thinks she just had the flu (this is how I found out… but I’m not talented enough to project it in writing and I don’t wanna use AI so could you please!)

Not Flu, Is It?

Vi x Pregnant!Reader

It's been a few days you were woken early in the mornings with a wave of nausea.

You shrugged it off, it was flu season and given your terribe and weak immune system, you were sure you'd just caught flu.

And so was Vi, she was helping you through it with flu treatments and medication too.

Goodness, was Vi so worried for you.

Ome of those days, you were laid next to Vi who was stroking your hair lovingly before suddenly, her expression changed, one of confusion, "Baby, did you get your period this month?"

"No," you looked up, your voice weak from the constant throwing up and sickness, "I think not, everything's been so hectic I just lost track of it."

"Throwing up, missed period, tummy ache," Vi listed off all your symptoms, hands running down your back in a soothing manner, "Even an idiot could've reasoned you might just be pregnant."

"I am?" You mumbled, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

"We can't be so sure like that, I'll go run down to the store and get you some tests, okay?" Vi tilted your head up so you could meet her gaze, you gave her a small smile and a nod.

"Mm..." You stared at her as if waiting for her to add something to her last words, puppy eyed gaze lingering on Vi.

"... And some chocolates, I got you," Vi gave you a reassuring squeeze before she got up, keys jingling and jacket rustling as she quickly got herself ready.

Once Vi was decently dressed she gave your a forehead kiss, "Call me if you need anything, I won't be gone long."

You grinned weakly and nodded, "Ba-bye."

A little while later, Vi returned with the pregnancy tests and the door clicked open, "Hey, babe, I'm back," she said, her voice wavering from nervousness as she walked inside the shared apartment.

She set the tests down, "So," she looked at you, "Do you wanna just take them now? Or..."

You got up, grabbing one test up, "Should I take two at once? It would be safer in case I get a false," you said, reading the instructions on the box.

"Sounds 'bout right, just— I never had to do I don't know," Vi said awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You giggled before picking up two tests and disappearing in the bathroom.

"I'll still be here if you need me," Vi quickly added, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door.

"Peeing on a stick shouldn't be that hard, right?" You called from the bathroom. Vi would've replied before she heard you do exactly what you said. That knocked the words down her throat.

"Y—...eah," Vi managed.

A little bit later, you put the tests on the bathroom counter waiting according to what the box said, "After 15 minutes it'll show," you told Vi.

Vi nodded and held your hand, "You nervous?"

"Of course I am, I never thought of being a mother until now and suddenly now that I think about it— you're gonna call me crazy but— I'm sorta' praying I am pregnant," you looked up at her, "Does that make me crazy?"

"No, of course not," Vi said reassuringly, rubbing circles on the back of your hand, "I respect whatever choice you make, it's your body," she smiled, "But of course I am happier that you choose to keep the child if you are pregnant."

You giggled and leaned against her body, "Because I'll finally be able to hold something over your head—"

"How? You're short as fuck," Vi looked down at you as if to exaggerate her point.

"Not that, you idiot!" You shoved her playfully, "I meant, I'll be able to say 'I gave birth to your child' whenever we fight and I get to use the labour hours to my advantage," you smirked, glancing at the test.

"Oh, you are evil," Vi said, also averting her gaze to the test.

"Only the finest."

The moment 15 minutes were over, you checked the tests and sure enough, it read positive.

You looked at Vi, who was already teary eyed, she picked you up bridal style and just squeezed you close like she'd merge herself with you.

"Oh my goodness," Vi whispered staring at the tests, "We're gonna be parents."

"Mhm," you giggled, leaning your head against Vi's chest, "Meaning you're gonna be doing whatever I tell you to because I call the shots."

"Got it, ma'am," Vi said with mock obedience making you roll your eyes.

"Y'know what— p-put me down, I think I'm feeling super pukey," you said and Vi quickly let you down, you opened your mouth to say something but shook your head, turning back to the toilet and retching.

"Well, you can start being a diva maybe after the morning sickness is over," Vi held your hair back, a small smile on her lips.