#i got a new job and actively adjusting

[mananea]

a lot has happened the last few months and it won't slow down until september or so. if i die, heres some things left in my PC

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

gosh i’m so loving ur stoner suguru stuff…u are so good i love ur work !!!!

tysm!! appreciate you for reading <3—think I’m obsessed with him [prev] [nxt]

tl;dr bong rips with stoner!suguru getou (gone wrong)

it’s not long before suguru invites you back to his place. first, he messages to check if now’s a good time. then, he’s calling to ask if you’re free next weekend. he mentions there’s going to be a block party on his street—an unofficial hempfest of sorts. according to him, the turnout is always huge, and this year, he’s supplying bud for the event.

“we’re setting up a mobile cannabis bar,” he explains, nonchalantly. 

“flashy, easy to distribute from.”

apparently, the event is where gojo’s new strain, bleu dragon’s breath, will debut. “we’re not working the event,” suguru adds bluntly. “we’ve done more than enough in production; they can push the product themselves.”

you laugh at his tone. “what are you, some notorious drug lord?”

he brushes it off with a chuckle and says he’ll pick you up from work friday to avoid the traffic jam that’s sure to hit later.

“and,” he adds with a mischievous lilt, “we’ll pregame with gojo. he just got a new bong—we’ve gotta break it in.”

naturally, you’re down.

by midweek, you realize how big this block party really is when you see flyers plastered around campus. they’re everywhere—on bulletin boards, lampposts, your timeline—featuring bold graphics and a list of attendees: caterers, vendors, and a handful of local influencers.

the day of, suguru pulls up outside your job in his sleek black car, turning a few heads as you approach. your older coworkers eye the tinted windows, whispering amongst themselves.

he greets you with a warm smile as you settle into the passenger seat. “how was work, pretty girl?”

he’s wearing a black nike tech set—your favorite color on him, not that there’s much competition since it’s about eighty percent of his wardrobe. his hair is half-up, the loose bun framing his face just right.

you tell him about the ridiculous filing error that ate up your entire shift. as you talk, he takes your hand, brushing light kisses across your knuckles.

he gets a call from shoko a few minutes later, muttering an apology before answering. it sounds like some last-minute adjustments for the event.

by the time you reach his street, it’s buzzing with activity—tents going up, booths being set, a dj assembling his gear. suguru parks on a side street, and you walk the rest of the way to his building. inside, the energy is palpable, music blasting from the first floor.

upstairs, you hear the shower running and gojo belting out some song at full volume. suguru rolls his eyes. “obnoxious as always,” he mutters, leading you to his room.

you’ve packed a change of clothes in your work bag. setting it down, you hear a loud beep from the kitchen.

“that’s the sushi bake,” suguru says. “gojo’s idea. guy’s a munchies connoisseur.” he heads off to grab it from the oven while you change into an olive-green two-piece skirt set. after refreshing your curls and makeup, you find suguru divvying up the sushi.

“damn,” he whistles as you approach. he feeds you a piece, his gaze lingering. “tastes good, but not half as good as you look right now.”

his hands slide to your waist as he presses a soft kiss to your pulse point.

you hear another whistle, this time, from behind you. “that’s all you, suguru?”

you turn to find gojo, freshly showered, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead. he’s wearing light gray cargos, white adidas, and an azure zip-up that matches his eyes.

“if not,” he grins, “I can easily take over.”

suguru shoves his shoulder. “satoru, please—don’t push it.”

gojo giggles, pulling you into a quick side hug. “what can I say? It’s to be expected when you’re with a baddie. I’d know—I’m a baddie myself.”

you laugh. “I know that’s right.”

suguru groans, “I’m going to change.”

while he’s gone, gojo fills you in on the event lineup and gushes about his new bong, which sits on the coffee table. it’s sleek, with royal blue detailing, almost like a microscope. he tells you that the cannabis bar is going to be managed by shoko tonight, they hired toji, from the first floor, and his buddy as servers. he says they’re always in need of work, as gojo bluntly put it, “they’ll do anything for a dollar.”

when suguru returns in a black compression shirt and windbreaker pants, your brain stalls. the shirt clings to his muscles, accentuating the ridges of his abdomen and the curve of his biceps. he’s leisurely brushing his hair out with a paddle brush, framing his face, and you resist the urge to drop his drawls. 

he grabs the bong and grins. “ready?”

the three of you pile onto the couch, gojo calling dibs for the first hit. he sprinkles the weed into the bowl before packing it down and lighting it. wrapping his lips around the tube, he inhales deeply. smoke billows, rising steadily as the water bubbles. when he exhales, his face twists in pain, and he erupts into a coughing fit.

suguru slaps his back. “it’s okay to cough, man.”

once gojo recovers, suguru takes a hit, inhaling sharply and blowing smoke out through his nose. he smirks. “just not built like me, satoru.”

gojo glares but says nothing. you take the bong next, asking gojo to light it. following suguru’s instructions, you inhale, the smoke harsh on your throat. you manage half a hit before passing it back, coughing softly.

“pulls smooth,” suguru says, finishing your rip with ease.

the session continues until you and gojo are slouched, thoroughly toasted. only suguru’s still going strong. you poke gojo’s side. 

“you feeling it?”

he cracks an eye open, pupils hazy. “… yeah, you?”

you blink at him, grinning stupefied. you both dissolve into giggles, drawing a look from suguru. 

“what’s so funny,” he runs his hand through his hair twisting at the ends, “giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.”

“you wish,” gojo wheezes. “your secret fantasy.”

suguru stretches, “it scares me that you keep adding yourself into the equation,” he stands and walks to the window, peering out. “we should head out soon.”

now that he mentions it, you hear the rhythmic thump of music playing outside, the muffled shout of the dj over the mic. 

suguru taps the window, “I lent them my speakers, the sound output capacity is insane.”

you rise to your feet, reaching down to swat gojo’s shoulder. he glances between the two of you, his eyes heavy and bloodshot. “kaay~ ‘m ready,” he drawls.

as you shuffle out, suguru checks his phone.

“shoko says the bar’s a hit. everything’s running smoothly.”

“as it should be,” you murmur, slightly delayed, trailing him out the door.

outside, the street is teeming with life. cars are jammed along both sides, a few haphazardly parked on sidewalks or half-on, half-off lawns. people are everywhere—some lounging on car hoods, others weaving through the crowd. you catch sight of a few familiar faces from uni as you pass. the dj setup dominates the scene, blasting music loud enough to vibrate through your chest. the largest crowd is gathered around a black tent housing caterers busy with trays of food.

suguru steers the three of you toward the cannabis bar, nodding at familiar faces on the way. the bar is sleek, its emerald-green counter illuminated by a glowing marijuana leaf at its center.

behind the counter stands toji and another man, both in black muscle tees under matching green aprons. a long-haired brunette, presumably shoko, sorts through mylar bags behind them.

toji spots suguru and waves broadly. “my boy! appreciate you hooking me up with this gig. you really came through.”

his voice is louder than your nerves can handle in your current state, so you linger behind suguru, offering a small wave instead. shoko picks up a mylar bag—sapphire blue, sparkly, with a dragon head spitting fire in the corner—and starts discussing marketing strategies with toji’s partner. you’re about to zone out entirely when your phone vibrates in your hand.

gojo satoru has added you to a group chat

bongbros  gojo satoru: what’s fr goign on rn XD

gojo’s timing is impeccable, and you have to stifle a laugh.

you: idk i fee l like im stuck you: can’t stop staring loll

gojo satoru: tryna figure out y toji & shui r working in wife beaters wtfff

you snort.

you: nah cuz y it look like yall hired former inmates from a reentry program

sugu: lmfaoao sugu: toji genuinely has no shame he woulda done it shirtless

gojo satoru: slut

sugu: guys fr though say something your starting to look weird af

you glance up to find suguru glaring at you and gojo while shoko patiently explains the menu to an inquiring couple.

gojo clears his throat, “looking good, toji. how’s little megumi?”

of all the things he could’ve said, that was the wrong one. suguru crosses his arms, and toji’s jaw tightens.

“actually, the boy’s doing good. his mom’s bringing him today. wanted to show him I can be a good father figure or whatever.”

“dad!”

as if summoned, a child barrels into toji’s side. he’s small, with spiky black hair and wide, curious eyes. his tiny fists clutch toji’s waist.

“didn’t think you’d be here,” the boy says. “mom said you were lying.”

toji groans, ruffling the boy’s hair. “don’t listen to her when she says shi–uh, stuff like that, kid.” 

he fist-bumps megumi before ushering him off. “go run around, sport. saw some other kids out here somewhere.”

megumi spins on his heel and dashes off, shouting a cheerful, “see ya!” over his shoulder.

a dark-haired woman, her shoulder-length hair as wiry as megumi’s, approaches, hands on her hips. “now where did that boy run off to? don’t tell me you lost him already.”

you deadpan at suguru, who’s busy typing on his phone.

bongbros sugu: this is about to blow my high. how do we leave

gojo peeks at the screen and quickly improvises. “guys, nanami just texted me. he’s down the street. let’s go.”

without hesitation, you, suguru, and gojo slip away unnoticed, leaving toji and his ex mid-argument.

“good save, satoru,” suguru mutters, his hand settling on your waist as he guides you through the sea of people. you poke gojo in the back playfully.

“came up with that lie pretty quick.”

gojo chuckles. “no, I’m actually a terrible liar. he really did text me—he’s over there.” he points down the street.

suguru drums his fingers lightly on your side. “you go ahead. we’re grabbing drinks from the tent.”

gojo flashes two thumbs up and spins on his heel. “text me~!”

the turnout is massive. everywhere you look, people are holding emerald-green cups from the cannabis bar–thc infused drinks. the atmosphere is charged—friends chatting, couples dirty-dancing near the dj booth, laughter blending into the music.

in the catering tent, the servers are polished, dressed in slacks and tucked-in shirts. suguru orders a beer, and you ask for a frozen wine, craving something fancy. the drink is fruity and refreshing, a cold burst of relief in the humid air. you let out a content sigh.

“cotton mouth?” suguru teases, popping the cap off his beer.

“you don’t even know. feels like I haven’t had anything to drink in years.”

he chuckles, taking a long sip, his throat bobbing as he swallows. the sight draws your gaze for a moment longer than you’d like to admit.

suguru smirks and leans closer, his hand sliding down your back to give your ass a playful squeeze. “can’t have that now, can we?”

he kisses you, the malty scent of beer mingling with his warmth. your free hand moves to his arm, fingers tracing the firm muscle beneath his sleeve. the two of you sway gently to the music, the air thick with liquor, sweat, and smoked barbecue.

another kiss lands on your temple, tender and lingering, before your phones buzz simultaneously.

bongbros gojo satoru: guys guys guys guys gojo satoru: sports cars doing donuts gojo satoru: nanami’s got the lambo gojo satoru: djfojfjdsd

sugu: stop blowing our shit up

gojo satoru: D:

sugu: on our way

by now, the sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the scene, but somehow the energy has only intensified. hollers echo down the street, engines revving as the smell of burning rubber fills the air. suguru had mentioned nanami before—a childhood friend from their hometown. he’s a salaryman, and from what you’ve heard from gojo can be pretty uptight, but is insanely wealthy.

you spot gojo’s hand waving high above the crowd, his ridiculous height a beacon. as you approach, you see a yellow corvette drifting at the fork in the road, tires screeching, while onlookers cheer wildly.

gojo is leaning into the open driver’s window of a sleek green lamborghini. the man in the driver’s seat is handsome, with slicked-back sandy-blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a jawline that could cut glass. you blink, wondering if everyone in suguru’s circle is preternaturally attractive. there’s got to be something in their water.

“ah, there you are.” suguru’s voice snaps you back to reality as he introduces you to nanami, who greets you with a polite nod and a brief, “pleasure to meet you. heard lots.”

gojo is grinning like a kid, egging nanami on. “c’mon, rev it! assert your dominance, nanamin~”

before you can roll your eyes, you feel a tug on your shirt. confused, you glance down and find little megumi, his lips stained blue from a popsicle that’s dripping steadily onto the pavement.

“hello, miss.” his voice is timid, and his big eyes flit nervously to the side. “um my dad told me to tell you that you look really pretty tonight. he said you should talk to him later.”

you blink, stifling a laugh as his cheeks flush pink.

“and that’s it. I only said yes so I could get this popsicle.”

he’s so earnest it’s hard to be mad at toji’s sleazy attempt to use his own kid as a wingman. you pat megumi’s head gently.

“thanks for telling me. you can let him know suguru will talk to him. now go enjoy that popsicle!”

the boy beams and darts off, leaving a trail of blue drips in his wake. when you turn back, suguru and gojo have joined nanami in the lambo, chatting casually. deciding to tread carefully, you pull out your phone to message gojo privately.

you: soooo toji’s kid just told me his dad thinks I look pretty. how mad will that make suguru?

gojo’s eyes widen as he reads the message.

gojo satoru: :0 come again?? gojo satoru: using his son is crazy work gojo satoru: but just tell him. he’ll prob just be annoyed

gojo is wrong. suguru isn’t just annoyed—he’s pissed.

when you relay the story to the group chat, suguru immediately gets out of the car, his jaw tight. 

“I’m sorry, he did what?”

in hindsight, telling a cross-faded suguru wasn’t your best move. you try to downplay it. “it’s fine, just tell him off later. no big deal.”

suguru rolls his neck, drawing in a deep breath. gojo scrambles out of the car. “whoa, whoa, what’s going on?”

suguru hands gojo his beer and flashes you a deceptively calm smile. “I think I’ll talk to him now. he’s got some nerve.”

you and gojo exchange panicked looks before rushing to follow him as he storms through the crowd.

“toji!”

toji looks up from where he’s crouched by the bar, snuffing out a cigarette. he grins sheepishly, straightening up.

“hey, neph. c’mon, ’s all love. jusst jokes.” his words slur, he must’ve got into something despite working the event.

suguru doesn’t stop, an unreadable look on his face. 

“stand up.”

toji chuckles nervously but rises to his feet. “no hard feelings?”

suguru tilts his head. “where’s your son?”

“two streets down with the neighbor ki—”

THWACK.

suguru’s fist connects with toji’s cheek in a brutal arc. gojo curses, spilling beer on your top as he stumbles forward.

“shit, shit, shit!”

toji staggers back, clutching his face, but suguru doesn’t advance. he exhales slowly, his voice low and sharp. “you’re fired.”

toji scoffs, but before he can retort, megumi’s mother shouts from across the yard, “now, toji, I know your sorry-ass didn’t just lose another job—”

gojo grabs you by the wrist, steering you and suguru away before the scene escalates further.

his grip is firm, unfaltering, as he weaves through the crowd until you all regroup behind a tricked-out silver nissan. suguru leans against the car, running a hand through his hair.

“sorry, guys,” he starts, his tone low and tense. “I shouldn’t have done that. he’s been disrespecting me all week.”

you shoot him a sympathetic look. “I don’t care about the punch—it is what it is.”

gojo snickers, folding his arms. “honestly? someone had to do it.”

“but,” you continue, your voice soft, “what about the bar? you don’t want this mess tied back to it.”

suguru sighs, nodding. “you’re right. I should go back, smooth things over. shoko already texted me the numbers—we’re good to pack it up early.”

gojo glances down at you and his eyes widen in realization. “shit, I didn’t mean to spill beer all over you. I can take you back to the apartment so you can clean up.”

you look down, grimacing at the sticky fabric clinging to your chest. “yeah, it’s starting to get gross.”

gojo extends his hand out, palm down. “sounds good. okay, bongbros—on three!”

suguru visibly cringes, briefly cupping your cheek in his hand before heading back toward the bar.

gojo pouts dramatically. “rude.”

the apartment building is eerily quiet, with most tenants likely still outside. now that you’re away from the thumping music and roaring crowd, you realize your ears are ringing.

on the elevator ride up, you and gojo start debriefing the night’s events, laughing at how surreal it all felt.

“I still can’t believe it,” gojo says, shaking his head. “he just—boom! punched the shit out of him.”

you’re giggling when you trudge inside. gojo flicks on the lights and immediately flops face-down on the couch.

“jus let y’rself into sugu’s room f’clothes,” he mumbles into the cushion.

in suguru’s bedroom, you peel off your soaked top, smoothing out your skirt—which, miraculously, stayed dry. you grab some wipes from his dresser to clean the sticky residue off your chest and arms before rifling through his closet.

you settle on one of his white button-up shirts, the fabric loose and soft as it drapes over your frame, the hem brushing the top of your skirt.

gojo calls out from the other room. “hey, I’m gonna run back downstairs—sugu says toji and megumi’s mom are in a drunken spat. gonna check on the kid.”

“go ahead,” you reply, sprawling across suguru’s bed. his scent surrounds you, and in the quiet privacy of his room, your body finally relaxes.

the dizziness from being crossfaded creeps up on you, making you feel hot and languid. catching your reflection in the mirror, you notice how disheveled you look—hair tousled, the button-up hanging loosely off your shoulders, revealing a hint of your lacy black bra. your skirt has ridden up just enough to tease the matching panties beneath.

your phone buzzes.

sugu: you okay? sugu: sorry again. sugu: if you want to leave, I understand.

you: sugu I’m not mad

sugu: were you able to change?

you smirk. lifting your phone, you lean forward slightly, letting the shirt hang off your chest just enough to entice. angling your phone, you snap a couple photos.

you: 2 attachments sent

you watch the text bubble appear, then vanish, then reappear.

sugu: fuck. sugu: you look so fucking good. sugu: my pretty girl.

you: you like?

sugu: so much. sugu: I’m almost done. want me to join you?

you: that’s not all I want…

you record a voice memo, your tone low and sultry. “I want you to come up here and undress me, sugu—I need you.”

you hit send, watching as he saves the audio. for a few agonizing moments, nothing happens.

then a notification pops up—not from suguru, but from the group chat.

bongbros gojo satoru: OMFG gojo satoru: LMAOOAOAOAO gojo satoru: SUGURU’S PHONE JUST CONXECTED TO THE SPEAKER

your stomach drops.

gojo satoru: sounded sexy btw gojo satoru: sugu please don’t punch me 4 that^

you: the whole message played???

gojo satoru: nah, just the first 2 secs

you: omg

gojo satoru: LMAO sugu just had the dj start scrubbing a track so it seemed like part of the set gojo satoru: his face is so red

sugu: almost just had a fuckign heart attack sugu: my phone auto connected to bluetooth

you: I’m sorry suguu :( you: <3

sugu: <3

gojo satoru: <3

sugu: satoru

gojo satoru: :P gojo satoru: guys megumi is gonna stay over tn his parents are having drunk make up sex in the backseat of toji’s honda gojo satoru: I was keeping him distracted with games on my phone were coming up now

sugu: me too i feel fried

by the time gojo returns with megumi, you’re completely drained. you help him set up blankets and pillows on the couch while megumi disappears into gojo’s room with his phone.

gojo flops onto the couch dramatically. “I just… can’t.”

smiling weakly, you drape a blanket over him before returning to suguru’s bed. shedding your skirt, you collapse onto the comforter, exhaustion pulling you into a haze.

suguru slips in quietly sometime later, flopping on top of you.

you wheeze, tapping his arm. “can’t. breathe.”

he rolls to the side, cradling your face with his hands. his dark eyes soften as he presses gentle kisses to your nose, forehead, and cheek.

“you stayed,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with relief.

“of course,” you whisper, smiling.

suguru pulls you into his arms, his chest flush against your back as his lips brush against your neck. his warm, steady presence lulls you into that foggy space between wakefulness and sleep—until his lips press slow, deliberate kisses along your neck, and you let out a shaky moan.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. “that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs.

his hand moves with a desperate sort of hunger, tracing the curve of your breast before slipping beneath the lace of your bra. when his finger grazes the metal of your piercing, the mix of cool and heat sends a jolt through you, drawing out a whimper you can’t contain.

“so sensitive.”

his tongue drags a wet stripe up the side of your neck, and his foot hooks around your ankle, guiding you to straddle him. his palms slide down your thighs, spreading them as he pulls you flush against him.

“you drove me crazy tonight,” he breathes into your ear, voice laced with want. “your voice message… so needy.”

you nod, squirming as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging playfully.

“say it,” he demands softly.

your bottom lip slips free from your teeth, likely raw from all your biting. “need you so badly, sugu.”

the desperation in your tone has him groaning low in his throat. “I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your skin. “but you gotta be quiet for me.”

his fingers find your clothed clit, moving in maddeningly slow circles. your breath stutters as you nod weakly in agreement. his pace quickens, and his tongue flicks teasingly at the shell of your ear, making you momentarily forget how to breathe.

“baby, you’re soaked,” he whispers, his voice tinged with amusement. “these panties are drenched.”

he slides his fingers along the fabric, slick from your arousal, and you squeak when he skims over your clit. his hands spread your thighs wider, one steadying you while the other pulls your panties to the side.

“be a good girl and stay quiet,” he instructs, pressing two fingers inside you with deliberate slowness.

they’re thick, filling you to the point of blissful ache, and the sensation draws breathy, shallow moans from your lips.

“shhh.”

his fingers curl inside you, seeking the spot that has your thighs trembling. he sets a steady pace, each motion purposeful. between his hot breath, the mounting pressure in your core, and the obscene sounds of your wetness, you’re overwhelmed.

your release builds fast, slick gushing around his fingers. you whisper his name, fighting to stay quiet, even as he speeds up. his free hand finds your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles.

“feels good?” he asks, the rasp in his voice nearly enough to undo you.

you manage a stuttered, “s-sugu, feels so good—ah, ’m close.”

“already?” he teases, his smirk audible. “gonna come for me? come all over my fingers?”

his words are your undoing. your stomach tightens, and you gasp out, “sugu, gonna—”

before you can finish, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you teetering on the edge. a strangled moan escapes, muffled when he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“shhh, baby.”

your tongue darts out to lick at his palm, and he groans low in his chest. his fingers flick over your clit, and you shudder as he pushes them into your mouth.

“suck.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his fingers, the taste of yourself flooding your senses. he continues working you, fingers stroking deep inside, drawing out your climax. your walls flutter around him, your muffled cries vibrating against his fingers as you ride out the waves.

when you finally catch your breath, your body feels languid, boneless. he withdraws his fingers with a wet pop, leaving a string of saliva between them and your lips.

“you did so well for me,” he coos, pressing soft kisses along the side of your neck. his hands smooth over your skin, tucking your panties back into place as he cradles you against him.

the buzz of satisfaction hums in your veins, and his words blur into the haze of post-orgasm bliss. as he rests you on your side, his touch soothing, sleep pulls you under. the last thing you think is his name, whispered like a prayer.

[@tojisth3rdwife consider this my formal apology for bum!toji]

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Hotel Pool

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: SMUT, fluff, oral (fmr), squirting, teasing, unprotected sex, breaking and entering? Dean's bad ideas

Summary: You and Dean enjoy the luxuries of a real hotel, which includes having some fun in the pool and the comfortable beds

You, Sam, and Dean were working a werewolf case the British Men of Letters had put you on. One of the BMoL, Mick Davies had decided to join you, much to you and Dean's disdain. After a few hours in the car of having to listen to his podcasts and you actively fighting rolling your eyes, Mick told you to turn into a parking lot.

Dean pulled into the lot of 'The Wild Elk Lodge', an actual hotel. You and the boys were so used to staying in run down motels, that a place like this was like a five star resort.

"This place seems a little-"

"Shabby? Yeah. 3 stars was the best I could do. Least our bean counters will be happy. Booked us all suits," Mick said.

"Wait, we're all in separate rooms?" Sam said in disbelief.

When you stayed at motels, the three of you usually shared one room. You and Dean would crammed yourself onto what was typically a twin-size bed, and Sam would get the other bed or the couch.

"Yeah of course. Except for the two lovebirds, obviously." Mick motioned between you and Dean and again, you fought not to roll your eyes.

"Did you say 3 stars? So we're talking fresh towels, little baby shampoos?" Dean interjected.

"Uh-huh... And I believe theres a pool," Mick said walking through the doors of the nice hotel.

You and Dean shared a look of excitement and disbelief. You were definitely going to be checking out the pool later.

You stepped into your room and Dean let out a low whistle of approval. It was nice. Everything was clean and white with a queen-size bed, it even had a fireplace.

Dean set you bags down and started looking around the room. You flopped down on the bed and almost moaned at how comfortable it was.

"Oh my God," you said in satisfaction as you felt the ache in your back subside.

"What?" Dean poked his head out from where he had been looking around in the bathroom.

"This bed is so soft."

"Well, we'll have to test it out later." Wiggling his eyebrows, he smiled and then flopped down next to you. "Damn, yeah."

"Mh, told you."

"Do they make their beds out of clouds and unicorn feathers, what the hell?"

You laughed, "I don't know, but I think we need to get a new mattress for the bunker, cause this is amazing."

Dean groaned. "This is going to ruin us," He got up and moved to pull out his laptop. "We stay here 5 minutes and we're already spoiled."

He sat at the small table by the window and began going over a few things for the case. You stayed layed out on the bed and eventually, you unintentionally drifted off to sleep.

A couple hours later you woke to Dean gently shaking your shoulder. You groaned and sat up to look at the clock, it was late at night now.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" you said, smoothing down your hair.

"You needed it, plus you looked so comfortable, how could I disturb you?"

"I could've helped with the research though."

"Nah there wasn't much too it. The Brits actually did their job for once, buuuut now that that's done, I was thinking we could go check out that pool."

"Baby, it's late, the hotel closes it at night."

"I know," he said, with a mischief that shone in his eyes when he was up to no good.

"So you have a plan?" you inquired, raising a brow and trying to hide your smile.

"Sweetheart, I always have a plan," he gave a proud smile and pulled his lockpicking kit from his pocket.

You felt like teenagers sneaking out of the house, except this time you we sneaking in and you were supposed to be adults. This also was far from the riskiest thing you and Dean had done, but what were you if not his partner in crime.

He had picked the lock on the door in seconds, defiant of the 'hours of operation' sign directly above it. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room, the only light was the faint moonlight shining through the windows, but it was enough to make out Dean's silhouette as he stripped down to his boxers.

As you removed your outer clothing, he jumped into the water, the sound echoing off the walls.

"At least try to be quiet," you chastised as you lowered yourelf into the pool, adjusting to the temperature.

You had to admit, this was a pretty good idea on Dean's part. I mean, it wasn't really a good idea, you could get caught at any moment, but you still were going to take your time to enjoy the nice pool. You loved to swim and it had been a long time since you had been to a motel that had a pool that didn't look like you would catch a disease from it.

After a while of swimming, you went to sit on the side of the pool with your feet dangling in the water and watched your boyfriend glide underwater from one end of the pool to the other.

He emerged in front of you and shook the water from his hair, spraying you with droplets and moved to stand between your knees.

"This is nice," he said, running a hand up the side of your bare thigh.

You hummed in agreement , the tips of your fingers toying with a strand of his wet hair.

"Nice being able to get you all wet."

You couldn't help but rool your eyes at his signature smirk that followed that comment. "Too bad I'm not wet and naked," you teased.

"We can fix that."

He slid his hand up higher and hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear. He looked at you to gage if you we ok with this, to which you responded by raising your hips, allowing him to pull your panties off.

"So beautiful," he whispered, kissing from your knee up your inner thighs.

You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs wider for him. You were rewarded by him hooking your knees over his shoulders and licking up your entrance.

Your head fell back as he began to devour you like a man starved, alternating between long licks and sucking on your clit. It never failed to amaze you how quickly he could pull you to the edge with just his mouth. You were already close when he focused all his attention on your clit and buried two fingers deep inside you, curling them upwards. Within seconds you were falling apart, trying in vain to still keep somewhat quiet.

As you were coming down from your orgasm, he lifted you from the side of the pool and eased you back into the water so he could hold you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned as you felt his bulge pressing through his boxers. He held you for a moment,stroking a hand down your back and letting you recover.

You reached down between your bodies with the intention of providing him a fraction of the pleasure he had given you, when he stopped you. You looked up at him in confusion.

"Let's go back to our room and finish this, ok?" he responded softly.

You nodded eagerly and he helped you out of the water to dry off and re-dress, before quietly making it back to the hotel room.

Once inside the door, you were all over each other until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you let yourself fall back onto the bed. He pulled your clothes off, covering each uncovered part of your body in kisses. When you were both undressed he paused holding up a finger. He slid off the bed and moved to light the fire, casting a romantic glow over the room. After he layed down towels over the bed so you didn't soak it with your still-damp hair and -um other things...

He returned to hover over you, setting his palms on either side of your head. He dipped down to kiss the water droplets off your neck and collar bone. Your body ached for him, your fingers dug into his shoulders as he left a soft bite on your sweet spot. You lifted your hips to grind against him, letting out a soft moan as you felt his cock slide against your clit.

He pulled back from you, it took restraint to not sink into you, but he knew the more he teased you and worked you up, the better it would feel. Instead he reached down to run his finger over your swollen bud to your entrance.

"So wet," he praised.

"Well I mean we were in the-". He cut you off with a kiss and you smiled against his lips.

He dipped two fingers into you, curling them upwards making you let out a soft moan. "I know the difference, I know that this is all because of what I do to you."

He kissed you again as he eased his finger in and out of you. Slow and teasing, not enough to bring you to release, but still causing you to moan into his mouth and he was drinking up every sweet sound. He finally stopped when your fingers were digging into his bicep, signaling your desperation.

He sat back between your legs, admiring how you looked, flushed skin that was still freckled with droplets of water that reflected the light from the fire. You admired him the same. Every muscle and scar accentuated by the lighting. He was perfect to you.

"Please Dean," you breathed, reaching out a hand, desperate to touch him again.

He gave a smile that seemed almost peaceful, grateful, full of affection for you. He slid his plams up and down your legs, massaging gently before moving them to wrap around his hips. Positioning himself at your entrance, it only took him shifting to hover over you and he was fully inside you.

Your back arched, chest rising to touch his. His head fell into the crook of your neck, taking a moment to feel you around him. After you adjusted, you started to roll your hips into him, silently begging for him to move. Understanding your desire, he started to thrust into you. Still slow and gentle, but perfect. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and curve, reaching parts inside you that no one else was able to find.

His hand moved to cradle your head while his other arm wrapped around your arched back, pulling you too him. Times like these it felt like the air between you was too much distance. He would hold you close until it became hard to tell where you ended and he began.

His pace started to increase, his movements gaining a desperate edge. The feel of him inside you made you numb to everything else. Your fingers dug into his back as you felt that familiar pressure building. Every movement heightened your pleasure until you were crying his name. He tried to shush you given that you were in a hotel. The pressure continued to build, more intense than usual. His hand came up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

"That's it, that's my girl. Cum for me."

His voice was all it took for one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had to come crashing over you. His pace faltered as you tightened around him, triggering his own release. Your climax continued and as he came and suddenly you gushed around his cock.

He relaxed on top of you, trying to recover from his orgasm, but you were rigid with shock.

"Did I just...?" you started to ask in confusion.

"Yes, yes you did," he smiled, clearly pleased with you and himself.

You felt confused and shocked and a little shy. He moved down the bed to inspect the damage.

"God baby you soaked the bed, glad we layed down a towel huh." He pulled the towel from under you and tossed it into the bathroom.

Your hands came up to cover your face.

"Hey, do not be embarrassed about that. That was awesome." He pulled your hands down and you could see his proud smile.

"I've never done that," you said quietly. Honestly you didn't even think you could.

"Want to see if I can make you do it again?" he asked playfully.

"God no, I could hardly handle the first time!" you laughed.

Dean never made you feel insecure about anything. It was nice to be able to explore new things with him. Sometimes he was even more adventurous than you. Like suggesting you break into a hotel pool in the middle of the night, but were glad to be his partner in crime. His partner in everything.

He kissed you sweetly and maneuvered your bodies so you were now laying under the covers.

"We definitely need to do this hotel thing again," he sighed, settling into the soft bed. He pull you close so your back was pressed to his chest and tucked his face into your neck.

"Now who's getting spoiled?"

"Hey! Maybe we do need new beds in the bunker that don't make my back hurt."

"Old man."

"Shut up and go to sleep." You could feel his laugh rumble in his chest as he squeezed you tight.

"I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart."

[seancekitsch]

Hazbin Hotel—Lucifer x Reader where he’s a love struck fool for reader? May or may not be inspired by that little imagine you posted not too long ago \(//∇//)\

uhhh this kinda got away from me. enjoy!!

You’d have to be a fool not to notice how the King of Hell acts around you, even Angel and Husk told you that. But you’re not blinded to situation, you know exactly what’s going on. You rest your elbow on the bar next to Angel as Charlie gathers the hotel residents and staff, a job not unlike herding cats. Everyone trickles in slowly, waiting for the next odd trust bond activity Charlie has come up with now. Last week was heartfelt letter writing, and the three of you at the bar had not taken it seriously. You handed Husk a comedic inner monologue about how much you needed to pee, Husk handed Angel a surprisingly detailed made up story about a talking whisky bottle, and Angel handed you a list of what roles he’d cast the entire hotel in a porno.

“What do you think they’ll have us do this time?” Husk mumbles to you, topping off your drink.

“Honestly, not a fan of the way Princess is smiling right now,” you answer.

Charlie waves everyone over, and Vaggie smiles uncomfortably, ready for everyone to start.

“Okay Good Afternoon,” Charlie starts, practically bouncing, “Today we’re going to try to form new bonds!”

Immediately, she’s met with groaning and mumbling, but thats never stopped her and it won’t today either.

“So what better way to do that then having a buddy for the next twenty four hours!” She shouts, and Vaggie’s face immediately makes sense.

“I’ve separated everyone from their regular group so they can build these bonds and be open!”

“…got something you could open…” you hear Angel mumble under his breath.

Charlie gives her dad a thumbs up.

“The first pairing is… my dad and Y/n!”

The Morningstar family sucks at being subtle or lying.

“So what did you have planned for the day?” Lucifer asks while sitting beside you, his voice short and clipped, his entire demeanor like he’s on high alert. It’s cute, really.

“Ah don’t worry about it,” you shrug, “What does the areat King of Hell do with his day?”

Lucifer rubs his neck, fidgeting under your question.

“It’s not… Its not actually all that interesting,” he admits, “You’ve probably got something cooler going on.”

There’s something he’s avoiding besides your gaze, but you don’t press the issue.

You look across the lobby to Angel, who pauses his conversation with Vaggie to mouth something that looked like the word “fart” to you, and then wink.

Your art gallery. Right.

“Have you ever been to Pentagram City’s biggest art gallery?” you ask him.

Lucifer is a gentleman. You understand how he stole the first man’s first two wives from him. Sure, he’s stumbling and stuttering and a nervous wreck, but he’s holding doors open for you and asking about your thoughts and feelings about the pieces on display, he’s accidentally on purpose almost held your hand three times now. Next time he does it, you’re just going to grab his damn hand.

You stare at the sculpture in front of you, noting that you should have someone move this to a different room. In fact, there’s a few things you’ve noticed while showing Lucifer the art that you should have moved around. Maybe you’ve been neglecting the gallery a bit more than you thought now that you live at the hotel.

“Hey, Can I ask you about these?” Lucifer’s voice booms from the next room over. Sighing, you type a quick note into your V-Phone and turn.

Oh shit.

Lucifer found THAT room.

You cross the threshold into the room you never go into, the room with your own work. Honestly, it’s not even curated the way the other rooms and floors are. This is where you put anything that you think can leave your studio. He’s in front of one of your biggest paintings, and one of your newest. It’s an abstract piece about your feelings about redemption, about your past sins, about adjusting to the hotel. Which it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but it made sense in the moment and you’re proud of it.

He turns and smiles before looking back at the painting.

“Is the uh, is the artist willing to sell this piece?” he asks, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red.

Now it’s your turn to get nervous. You’ve never actually sold any of your own pieces before.

“I uh- I’m not gonna sell it to you,” you tell him, “You can have it.”

It would be weird to take money from Lucifer, even if he is offering. You like him a decent amount and a transaction between the two of you would make it weird. It would feel like you owe him, even though your art would technically satisfy that. If he was one of the Vees or someone you dislike, you would have immediately taken money.

“But the artist-“

“Me,” you clarify, and you finally remember you don’t tag your own art. Lucifer’s jaw drops at your admission.

“I’d really like to support your work, it’s magnificent,” Lucifer insists, and you feel your cheeks burning. He turns to gesture to another piece, and his knuckles brush your own.

Fuck it. You told yourself you’d do it. You grab Lucifer’s hand in your own, a bold move.

“Just think about it as a gift,” you tell him, “A thank you for the lovely day we’ve had.”

You inwardly cringe, knowing that when you recount today at the lobby bar your drinking buddies are going to tear you a new one for that corny line. But it fits for Lucifer; he’s bringing out a side of you that you really haven’t seen in a while.

“Thank you uh, gorgeous,” he tacks on the pet name like even he isn’t sure about it, and with his hand still in yours, attempts to lean against a sculpture, stumbling as he misses it and bringing you along with him. He tugs you by the arm, jerking you closer to him. He’s majorly out of practice.

“I have a studio upstairs if you want to see more?” you offer, not really sure if you thought that through.

“More art? Absolutely!” He recovers quickly, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

You smile as you pull him towards the hallway, butterflies in your stomach as it dawns on you that he’s going to be the only person besides you to see the studio.

You and Lucifer end up staying there until Charlie calls him the next morning.

You notice paint on his chin after you get back to the hotel.

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

 You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…”  Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go,  I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision.  And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

[delusional-day-dreamer]

First. Love. Part² - p.b

playlist!

prev. next part

‣ paige bueckers x oc

‣ wc: 12079 (this took me way too long but I got carried away...)

‣‣ synopsis: background on paige and jenna's relationship, how they met, fell in love, and how paige ended up becoming jenna's first heartbreak and eternal muse.

‣‣‣ a/n: So High School Part 2 will be out soon (i have no idea where to take the plot in that series 😔), this is sort of a filler chapter in between the podcast episode in part 3 to give context. EDIT: I changed Jenna's major to be Business Economics with a minor in Film, Television, and Digital Media because it's more relevant for the later plot!

June 30th, 2016 (summer before freshman year; 14 years old)

Jenna's POV:

You didn't know how much more of this stupid city you could handle. You had just locked your front door behind you as you left to go to the pool inside your new neighborhood, excited to read a book you had bought the other day while sunbathing on a lounge chair.

Your parents had just uprooted your life and moved you from San Diego, California, land of sunshine, beaches, and only a small amount of criminal activity, to middle of nowhere Hopkins, Minnesota, right before you started high school with all of your old friends.

Of course you understood that this was for the better of your family, both of your parents had gotten new jobs at a huge hospital with far better pay than their previous ones, they found a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood close to what was going to be your new school, and living in your dad's hometown meant being close to his family.

However, none of these facts soothed the bitter taste in your mouth that formed at the thought of having to be the new kid, having no friends to hang out with for the rest of summer or to start school off with, no job or classes to distract your never-ending train of thoughts, and you didn't even have a sibling to act as your built in friend.

Regardless, you tried your best to adjust to your new, albeit lonely, life by distracting yourself as much as possible. Your parents had re-enrolled you in music lessons the same week you finished moving into your house, gave you an allowance to buy new clothes and hang out at the local mall, as you very quickly realized your Californian wardrobe would not fit the Minnesota weather, despite it being summertime (although you hadn't gone yet as you hated shopping alone), and you had even been going to the pool frequently with the hopes of meeting kids close to your age.

And it just so happened that today, your prayers had been answered. As you were walking down the street, the door to a house you had just crossed by across the street had barely opened before a small boy barrels out, closely followed by a taller, blonde girl who appeared to be around your age, locking the door behind the two of them. You weren't able to put a finger on it, but there was simply something about the girl that was mesmerizing, just a quick glance at her had you wanting to know more.

You had always known you liked girls to some extent, you always found yourself gazing at the t.v. in wonder at the beautiful girls displayed upon the screen. However, it wasn't until probably a hundred, "Am I Gay?" internet quizzes later in seventh grade you recognized the fact that you were queer and were in fact attracted to girls, you just didn't bother telling anyone about this revelation.

In particular, the girl in front of you invoked millions of questions that raced through your mind: who was she, was she your age, was she going to the same high school as you, and most importantly, why was she so pretty? Her blonde hair cascaded down her back with a slight wave to them, her white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts draped over her tall frame, and her voice that rang out as she scolded the little boy who ran in front of her to the end of their walkway.

God, her voice was the most intoxicating thing you had ever heard, luring you into her like a siren's song to the depths of the ocean. You swore you were floating at the twinkling sound of her laughter echoing around the block as she joked with, who you head her refer to as, her little brother.

You snapped out of your stunned daze and continued walking forward as she followed her little brother onto the main sidewalk, now almost parallel with your frame. You were mentally counting your blessings that she hadn't looked up enough to see your stalker-esque figure staring at her, although you were praying that she happened to be going to the pool as well (definitely not so you could look at her some more).

Truly, God had decided to pay special attention to you today, as your blonde neighbor grabbed her little brother's hand as she crossed the street, making her way towards you. You couldn't help but glance at her as she approached you, and you were taken aback by the shockingly blue eyes that met yours. You gave her a tight-lipped smile as she stepped up to the sidewalk just behind you, hoping your internal panic wasn't apparent on your face as you faced forward once again.

Your focus on taking deep breaths in and out to not embarrass yourself in front of the first person your age you've even made eye contact with in the last month is interrupted by the little boy running past you, gently bumping into your leg as he brushes past you. His short legs are working overtime to maintain a pace faster than both you and the pretty stranger, who had now jogged up next to you to keep close to her brother.

"Drew the pool isn't gonna run away by the time we get there, you gotta slow down buddy," She called out to the curly-headed child, turning her head to peer slightly down at you.

"Sorry about him, he gets really ahead of himself sometimes," She apologized on his behalf, her eyes scanning over your face. Before giving you a chance to reply, she continued on. "Are you new to the neighborhood? I don't think I've ever seen you around?" She questions, your heart slightly speeding up at the undivided attention she was paying to your face.

"No yeah I am, I just moved here from California," you replied, tucking your hands into the pockets of your shorts to avoid any nervous flailing.

"No way, that's so cool, I've always wanted to visit. Did you live next to the beaches? One of my old friends went there for vacation and she loved it, like she wouldn't shut up about how nice it is over there. I think she went somewhere close to LA. Wait are you going to the pool too?" Her outgoing demeanor surprised you. You had only seen her for the first time a minute ago, and she was already carrying you into a conversation about your old life.

"Yeah I did and I am, I lived in San Diego so the beaches there were really nice compared to the northern part. I miss being able to go there all the time, so I guess for now the pool will just have to do," you joked back, and your heart fluttered at the smile that broke out on her face.

It had appeared that you made your first friend in Hopkins, Minnesota, and unbeknownst to you, she would quickly become your first ever best friend. Then your first girlfriend, your first love, and then slowly, your first and last heartbreak.

April 4th, 2017 (spring break, freshman year; 15 years old)

Paige's POV:

"Dude there's no way you think pancakes are supposed to be better than waffles, they're so boring," I protested on my bed next to Jenna, rolling onto my stomach towards her and propping up my elbows so I could look at her. Jenna had somehow become my best friend within the span of two months during summer, and although I was unsure of when and how her presence became so prominent in my life in such a quick span of time, I was nothing but grateful.

We had started high school together and even had a class together everyday, which was a saving grace for both of us. She came to every single one of my home games this season, even some of the closer away games. She made it to more of my games that any person in my family did, which surprised me, but she just was always there for me somehow.

I was never the best at making friends outside of basketball, the sport was my comfort zone and it was always so much easier to relate to my teammates who felt the same. Yet, me and Jenna just clicked, despite our many differences. Hanging out with her quenches a thirst within me I didn't know I had. A thirst to be seen, to be heard and known, a desire for someone to see me past all my future athletic potential and to just see me, and without fail, she did that for me. Every. Time.

One of the things we discovered early into our friendship, the first time she came over to my house to hang out, were our matching initials. PB and JS, which we affectionately coined to be our nicknames, Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich (pretend pazzi does not own this nickname). Jenna always says that our matching initials are a sign from above, a sign that we're meant to stick by the other's side. We even bought matching necklaces with our initials over winter break as a mutual Christmas present, mine was silver and hers was gold.

Our parents loved the nickname as well, joking that it's the reason they can never separate us, as you just can't have one without the other. Our families somehow became intertwined over the course of our friendship as well, trading in between carpool duties, spending long weekends and the occasional holiday together, and even coming to cheer me on at my basketball games or watching Jenna's dance recitals from the class she took instead of P.E. We all even went out to eat together to celebrate me and Jenna's small freshmen year milestones, like our birthdays.

Hers was a bit before mine, September 21st, 2001, which made her just slightly older than me. Apparently according to the Minnesota school laws or whatever, Jenna is supposed to be in the grade above, but California has different age cutoffs so she's one of the oldest people in our grade.

She confessed to me before school started that she was nervous about being the eldest out of everyone, but I reassured her by saying that it just meant she could drive the two of us around and do a bunch of other things before everyone else could. That really helped.

She even let me into her secret world of music, I knew she took classes but until she played and sang for me, I didn't realize just how good she was. She was fairly shy when it came to her talent, and almost never played in front of people she wasn't comfortable with, which is why it felt like an honor when she played a song on the piano or guitar for me, or sang for or with me, whether it was playing from the radio or something small she wrote.

But the thing that really brought us closer together was when Jenna's parents had to go out of town from time to time for their medical conferences, which left her home alone. When she was younger, she always used to go with them, as missing school wasn't that big of a deal. But now, she ended up refusing, insisting that she would be alright home alone.

This didn't fly with either of our families, and our parents eventually came to the conclusion that Jenna could just stay over at our house when needed. It wasn't like me and Jenna didn't have sleepovers all the time anyways, and both me and Drew loved having her over. She even met my Mom and my two other little siblings, Ryan and Lauren. The three of them immediately took to her the way I did, entranced by her presence. She loved hanging out with them too, since she was an only child.

There was something about Jenna that somehow attracted people to her. Maybe it was her welcoming presence, the way she made you feel like the most important person in the world with the way she looked at you, or perhaps it was something appealing about her appearance. The small makeup she put on and the way she spent extra time styling her hair was always unnecessary in my opinion, I always thought she was the prettiest person in our grade.

Sometimes I wondered if the two of us were truly best friends. I know friends hang out a bunch like we do, they don't mind changing in the same room or even in front of each other, and they definitely feel comfortable enough to cuddle together in bed or while watching a movie. Right?

But sometimes I swear there's a weird fluttering in my stomach when Jenna's bare legs drape over mine on the couch, or sometimes my heart skips a beat when we're getting ready for bed and she just pauses while changing her shirt, intent on continuing our conversation even while standing in just her bra.

But it's okay for friends to do that right? I mean, I've only ever had crushes or thought boys were attractive, so everything I'm feeling is probably just from the fact that I've never had a best friend like Jenna. Sure, I've had a bunch of friends and teammates I'm really close to, but me and Jenna spend all of our time together, and there's almost nothing we wouldn't do together. Sometimes, we just take turns showering while the other person stays in the bathroom just so we can keep talking.

Which led the two of us up to now, spending spring break sprawled out on my bed at 9pm, arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were better. We never had any real arguments, but with me and Jenna both being super competitive and never wanting to be wrong, we always had long discussions "fighting" about meaningless topics.

"Pancakes are so much smoother and like, enjoyable to eat compared to waffles, plus waffles end up crispy at the edges and they just end up tasting weird," She insisted, adjusting herself from her back to her side so she could argue with me face to face.

Her hair fell over her shoulder when she moved, leaving her shoulder exposed as her, no, my sweatshirt had slightly slouched down as it was big on her. Jenna wasn't exactly short, she was around 5'5, it's just that I happened to be even taller.

"Girls, come down for dinner please," my step-mom yelled from downstairs before I could even snap out of my distracted state to argue back.

"Coming Mrs. Bueckers," Jenna took the initiative to yell back slightly when I didn't respond in time, still in shock as to why I ended up staring at my best friend, distracted by her bare shoulder in my clothes. Me and Jenna always shared clothes, we even kept clothing and toiletry spares in each others rooms for spontaneous sleepovers. So why was her wearing my sweatshirt, in my bed, so different this time?

Whatever the reason was, I didn't have time to even think it over before Jenna got up from next to me, grabbing my hands with hers so she could yank me up as well, complaining that she was hungry. She kept our hands interlocked as we left my room, walking down the stairs hurridley. It was a miracle she didn't notice that for some reason, her soft, warm hands in mine had left a barely noticeable blush on my cheeks.

October 28th, 2017 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Come on J hurry up, it's just a stupid party," Paige walked into your bathroom as you were almost finished curling your hair. "I'm on my last section P chill, I'll be done in a minute," you reassured her reflection. The two of you were invited to a Halloween party, but apparently you weren't supposed to dress up since technically it's not Halloween yet? (skinny jeans were the shit in 2017 but I can't bring myself to write that that's what they're wearing 😔)

You were both confused about it but the junior who invited you guys, Alexa, was one of your friends from math class. You were sat together on the first day and despite both of you struggling here and there, you often got the concepts a little bit quicker than her, so you always helped her when possible. And in return, she got the two of you an invite, well technically she invited you but everyone knows you and Paige are a package deal, to one of the biggest house parties of the school year.

It was also going to be the first party you were ever going to, and you both agreed to not go overboard on the drinks, since your aunt cristina, who was visiting, was going to pick and drop you in her car. Your mom's sister couldn't have chosen a better time to come visit, as both of your parents were working the night shift tonight and Paige's parents allowed her to sleepover at your house since your aunt was supposed to "supervise".

"See, I'm ready, let's go," you told Paige as you finished your hair with a thin layer of hairspray, moving past her into your room to grab your phone and keys. Your parents had gotten you a used Ford F-150 truck (so gay) so it would be easier for you to drive to school, with Paige of course, since they both started working longer hours now that you were old enough to take care of yourself and so that they could retire earlier.

You both made your way downstairs to your Aunt Cristina on the couch, watching tv while waiting for you to finish getting ready. "Ready to hit the road girls?" She got up to turn off the tv and grab her things from around the living room.

"Yup, thank you again for taking us, and for not telling our parents," Paige responded on your behalf as well. It was typical of adults to love Paige, she was always the most respectful and responsible kid in their eyes, even when thanking your aunt for driving you to a party so you could drink responsibly.

"No problem, I'd rather you girls be safe while having fun, no point in sneaking out if I'm here for you," She joked as you moved to get in her car, and within ten minutes, the three of you were pulled up outside the address Alexa had given you.

"Now please just remember to be safe, have fun, drink responsibly, don't leave your drinks unattended, don't try drinks from random people, keep your phone on you, don't leave each other's side," Your aunt was rambling off safety rules to the two of you in the backseat. You thought it was ironic she had to mention for you to stay together as if you ever left each other's side anyways.

"Yes Auntie C of course," You promised her as you moved to open the car door, "We'll be safe and I'll text you, love you, thanks, bye!" You closed the door the second Paige climbed out from the backseat, eager to walk into the house you could hear music blaring out of.

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting pressed up together on a couch in a crowded living room, two red solo cups in hand with sprite and vodka. You and Paige were tipsy from the past two hours of drinking, a warm fuzziness settled into our brains, making the circle of people around us funnier than they probably were.

"No you know what we should play, seven minutes in heaven!" A drunk junior called out mid-conversation. You weren't really absorbing anything that was being said around you until that, and the loud cheers that erupted from the living room at the suggestion.

"Everybody gather around in a circle on the floor, whoever spins it has to go in the guest bedroom with the person it lands on for seven minutes," Alexa called out to everyone as she reached for an empty beer bottle behind her, before moving to sit on the floor.

"D'you wanna play?" Paige asked quietly next to you. You could tell she was hesitant on joining, and would only sit down if you went with her or dragged her with you.

"Why not, what are the chances we get picked anyways?" You decided, downing the last sip of your drink before setting it down on the floor, pulling Paige off the couch with you and into the circle.

"Before we start," Alexa loudly interrupted the conversation of the circle as she placed the beer bottle in the middle, causing everyone to quiet down and listen to her. "If you get picked to go in the room, you do not, and I repeat do not, have to do anything. The room stays unlocked the whole time, and you can't force the other person to do anything, even kiss," She insisted, making eye contact with every person in the circle before sitting back down in her spot.

"Agreed?" She asked everyone, and only allowed the game to start after hearing a response from everyone.

The game started and by the fourth round, everyone except one couple had clearly used the seven minutes to their advantage, coming out with tousled hair, bruised lips, and one girl even came out with a visibly red hickey on her neck. You and Paige had yet to be picked, and you felt a sense of relief that the two of you got to participate without having to actually play the game.

But, you suppose you must have spoken (or thought) too soon though, as you watched the next guy spin the bottle, and it slowed to a stop, the neck pointing right at you. Encouragements and cheers burst from the circle, urging the two of us to go in the room. You recognized who he was from around campus and his games, a junior volleyball player.

He got up from his seat, walking across the circle to you, and offering his hand to pull you up. You looked over hesitantly at Paige, who was barely meeting your eyes and had a small, tight-lipped smile on her face. Ignoring her reaction, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to hoist you up, dropping it the moment you stood in front of him.

You walked into the room first, sitting on the desk pushed up against the wall as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you, leaving a foot of space in between you two, presumably waiting for you to give him some sort of indicator.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't really mind but I wasn't really planning on getting picked and I'm not comfortable, like, kissing you or anything so if you want to pick someone else I get it, I just don't want to," the nervous ramble poured out of you without constraint, the alcohol you had consumed making you more open-lipped than normal.

"Hey it's cool, you heard Alexa, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he shrugged, moving to take a seat on the edge of the queen bed in the room.

"Oh, thank you, I guess. I didn't think you would be so cool about your turn being wasted," You settled on top of the desk properly, turning to face the boy who was surprisingly chill.

"Nah it's whatever, I just broke up with my girlfriend like a month ago too, so I don't really care. I'm Jeremy by the way," he introduced, bringing one foot off the floor to rest over his other knee, leaning slightly back onto the bed.

"I'm Jenna, this is my first party so I wasn't really sure how all of this was gonna go."

"Jenna, I swear I've heard your name before," he paused, thinking for a moment. "Ohh, you’re the one who's friends with the basketball girl, Paige something right?" He suddenly remembered.

"Yeah I came with her tonight, she's my best friend," You smiled, talking about Paige was one of the easiest things in the world for you. You knew everything about her, inside and out, and majority of people knew you through her, since her athleticism made her quite popular around school. You never minded being known as Paige's best friend though, you knew you had your own identity and Paige always reminded anyone who referred to you as that, but there was a certain comfort that your friendship was strong enough for even a stranger to know that about you.

You and Jeremy continued small talking about school and a little bit about his ex-girlfriend before a knock rang out from the door, signaling that your time was up. He got up before you and held the door open as you walked out, instantly being bombarded with excited whoops and teasing "oooo's" as you walked to join the circle again.

"We didn't even do anything, guys" Jeremy emphasized to the circle, attempting to calm the rambunctious circle.

"Then why is she red as a tomato? The girl couldn't be blushing harder if she tried," a random girl in the circle yelled out, revving up the groups fever.

"She's like sixteen, chill out. Besides it's probably cause all of you," Jeremy backed you up as you walked over to your previous seat, but before you sat back down, you realized Paige was no longer there.

"Where did Paige go?" You asked the group before the next person could spin the bottle, causing eyes to shoot up at you.

"She went to the kitchen for a refill, so probably still there," Alexa informed you. You nodded at her before walking away, searching for your missing best friend.

You didn't have to look for long before you found her taking a shot in the kitchen with two other random girls, her face souring heavily at the alcoholic taste. You knew Paige hated the taste of alcohol and was never one to submit to peer-pressure, so why was she taking a shot of tequila with strangers?

"Hey P," you walked up to her, resting your hand on her bicep to draw her attention to you.

"Hey J," she responded dryly, but her voice was slightly slurred, moving her arm out of your hold to swap out the shot class for a full solo cup you could only pray she filled herself.

"You wanna leave soon? It's already like one ish?"

"Sure, whatever," she took a long sip from her cup, downing half of whatever she had poured in it.

"Okay, we can wait outside, let the cold air sober us up a bit before Auntie C gets here," you gently pried the red plastic cup out of her hand before grabbing her hand and leading her out to the living room, saying bye to the small amount of friends you knew before walking outside.

The two of you settled onto the edge of the curb at the ending curve of the sidewalk, just far enough from the house to get a little quiet. The stuffed house had been slightly humid, and the light breeze was a refreshing contrast to your previous environment.

"How was it?" Paige's question broke the quiet but tension-filled bubble the two of you had formed.

"How was what?"

"Your seven minutes in heaven," Paige drunkenly mocked.

"P, we didn't do anything. Like, anything anything," you were confused at her attitude, did she know something about Jeremy, or dislike him for some reason?

"You, you didn't kiss him?" The shock was apparent on her face. "The second you left everyone was talking about Jeremy and Jenna kissing in a tree, it was really annoying," she grumbled, you concluded that the alcohol she had consumed must be what was making her weird.

"No way P, I don't want my first kiss to be like that. Forced and with someone I don't even know, let alone like," you scooched closer into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You awaited a response from her but never get one, she simply leaned her head on top of yours as you waited in a comfortable silence for your ride, which came quickly.

*small time skip*

You had just finished your short skincare routine and were finally ready to climb into bed with Paige, the long night had taken its toll on you, and you were ready to collapse into the warm embrace of your best friend. But tonight, when you laid down next to her in bed, she didn't immediately cuddle into you like she always did, remaining flat on her back, staring at your ceiling.

Instead, she turned over to face you, only a few inches of space were left in between your faces as she whispered to you, "Why didn't you kiss him?"

Her question shocked you. The two of you rarely visited the topic of romantic relationships or feelings of the sort, and both of you agreed that you weren't interested in the thought as of right now.

"I," you paused. You had never officially come out to Paige, afraid that once she knew you liked girls, your every move would be scrutinized and judged, and your relationship would never be the same. But surely, you insisted internally, Paige wasn't going to be like that.

"I wasn't really interested in the thought of kissing a guy," You quietly admitted, rolling back over onto your back to avoid her gaze.

"Oh." That was it? You basically just came out to her and that's all you got?

"Would you ever kiss a guy? Or just," she paused, the hesitation clear in her voice. "Just girls?"

"No I would kiss both, I just don't think I want my first kiss to be with one? Or at least not Jeremy," you confessed quietly, turning your head back over to look at her. She was staring intently at you, scanning your face.

"Who would you want your first kiss to be with?"

"I don't know, but at least with someone I'm close to. Have you ever," you waited a moment before finishing your sentence, taking a deep breath in between your words.

"Have you ever thought about kissing girls? Or a girl?" You whispered, watching her slightly panicked reaction.

"A few times, but I've never kissed anyone either, so I don't know," Her eyes darted in between your eyes and down to your lips. "What if you kiss me? Just so we can both have our first kisses with someone we know," in retrospect, you should've thought harder before agreeing to kiss your previously assumed straight best friend. But her offer set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks flushed deeply as you nodded.

You shuffled closer to her in bed, such that there was barely an inch of space separating your lips. "Are you sure about this?" You whispered, staring down at her lips while reaching your hand to cup her jaw, the other arm bent at the elbow to support your body above hers.

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at your own lips, slightly moving in until your lips grazed against hers. You pressed your lips a little firmer into hers, slanting your head further as your lips barely opened. She moved in tandem with you, her hand resting at the nape of your neck as she kissed you back.

Your kiss only lasted a few moments, pulling back the second you registered the taste of alcohol still prominent in her mouth. You realized it was possible that the only reason your best friend asked you to kiss her was because she was drunk, sixteen, and very single.

"This isn't gonna be weird tomorrow is it?" Your brows furrowed as a worried expression settled into your face.

"No, why would it? Friends can kiss, besides we just won't make it weird," she promised. And despite knowing it was a stupid idea, an even stupider statement, you agreed. Collapsing down back onto your pillow, you opened your arms for Paige to snuggle into you, and the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

February 3rd, 2018 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Paige's POV:

It was a relief to finally find a quiet moment to myself, even if it was at three in the morning in the middle of my living room couch. Everyone in my house was asleep, including Jenna, who was still snoring when I extracted myself from her arms. The ac vent aimed straight at me caused me to pull the blanket tighter into my body, despite the pajama pants I was wearing and one of Jenna's hoodies.

We were almost done with basketball season and were currently playing our conference games, and were thankfully on a streak. And yet, the pressure inside of me continued to build, the need to be perfect and to support and carry my team throughout our games constantly weighing down on me.

Of course my teammates, coaches, family, and my other friends were supportive of me and encouraged me to try my best, and that no one expected perfection of me. But for whatever reason, I couldn't get rid of the anxiety that was constantly taking over my brain, sending me into spiraling panics over my future and my performance.

But throughout the past few months, the only person I felt like I could truly breathe around was Jenna, my lifeline. Despite not being involved in basketball in any way, she understood me and what I was feeling. She confided in me about her having chronic anxiety (GAD) the first time I slept over at her house, when I saw her medication on the dinner table.

She taught me breathing exercises and calming methods, held and comforted me when I cried in the middle of the night from the constant mental pressure, and even told me that I should slide around my initial charm on our matching necklace since it was a better nervous habit than biting my nails.

Even besides that, her presence in itself was a comfort to me, even if I wasn't yet sure of how deep my feelings for her went. She was the first friend I ever said "I love you" too, and I think the same goes for her. And it is true, I do love her with my whole heart, I would do anything she asked or needed of me, I just wasn't sure to what extent this love went.

Along with that, I was still unsure of where I stood with my sexuality. Before Jenna, I never thought about girls in a more than platonic way, but from the first few months of getting to know her, to our first kiss together (still the only time I've ever kissed anybody), to even now, where she was cuddled into my chest a mere thirty minutes ago, I felt electrifying sparks course through my body at her touch, she could make me blush with the most innocent of looks, and she made me giddy in a way even basketball didn't.

But despite all that, it's normal for best friends to love each other? It doesn't automatically mean being gay or being in love, you could just deeply care for the other person. Besides, Jenna never brought up the kiss again, which meant it had probably only happened due to both of our inebriated states.

It was as if my deep train of thought about her cause her to miraculously appear, I knew it was her just from the footsteps upstairs, the way she gently walked down the stairs to avoid a creaky step, and the way her sock-covered feet padded over to the couch, grabbing a throw blanket for herself before taking a seat in the corner end of the couch next as me.

We sat in silence as she reached over to the side of the couch, pushing the button to recline the seat back, unfolding the blanket and covering her bottom half before patting her lap for me once she was fully adjusted.

I all but threw my head into her lap, facing her body, as I extended my legs out onto the rest of the sofa as I moved my arms up hug the tops of her legs as her hands came up to gently scratch at my scalp, playing with my hair in a way that immediately relaxed me into her.

"M'sorry if I woke you," I whispered into her stomach, even though I wasn't actually sorry. I was selfishly happy that she came downstairs for me and would give up anything for us to have more of these quiet moments together, her attention solely focused on me.

"S'okay P, you technically didn't. I felt the bed was empty and then my spidey senses told me you were thinking too hard again, so I came to convince you to come back to bed, but then this beautiful couch looked way too comfortable, so we can just spend the night here," she sleepily mumbled, looking down at me sprawled out onto her lap.

"Tell me who or what is stealing our sleep so I can beat their asses," she joked quietly, her hands coming to rub at my temples.

I sighed, it felt as if her hands were physically melting the pounding in my skull, my headache nearly subsiding just from her touch.

"Just stressed out about everything again y'know? Basketball, school, life, kind of everything," I admitted quietly. The one thing I hated doing, was talking about things that bothered or upset me, it always made me feel weak.

"Hey, we are all so proud of you P. We all know how hard you're working and even though you feel like it, I promise that it's not all up to you. All the people around you love you, and we're all here to help if you need it. You just say the word and we'll all line up for whatever you need," she reassured me, only slightly teasing as her fingers moved to pinch my cheek lightly before moving back to my hair.

"Yeah I know, God really blessed me with you guys. Especially you, I don't know what I would do without you," I murmured up at her, smiling at her sleepy but happy expression.

"Yeah yeah, just say you love me Paige," she poked fun at me quietly, letting her head drop onto the cushion behind her without breaking eye contact with me.

"Hey I do love you J, I say it all the time," I retorted, using my fingers to draw small shapes on her pajama-covered thighs.

"Well I love you too P," her hands smoothed over my hair as she bent down to press a kiss on my hairline before reaching back up to settle into the couch.

"Just trust me, you just need to do all you can so God can do all you can't," she muttered, closing her eyes as she leaned her head slightly onto her shoulder to get comfortable, all without stilling her hands' movements in my scalp.

"Hey that's a sick quote, I'm stealing that from you for my interviews," I teased groggily, the lack of sleep slowly overcoming my voice.

"You can have anything you want from me P, you already know that," she didn't open her eyes when she said that, but I could hear the sincerity in her tone even without looking at her.

The two of us slept the whole night in the exact same position, unaware of everyone waking up to us cuddling on the couch together. My eyes only fluttered open at the sound of quieted laughter and the shuttering of two cameras pointed at the two of us.

As I rolled my head out of Jenna's lap to look at whoever had caused the disturbance, I squinted my eyes to see my dad with his polaroid and Drew using someone's phone. I groaned, burying myself back into Jenna, I probably would never hear the end of this, but it was alright, because it was with Jenna.

July 4th, 2018 (summer before junior year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Jenna you need to slow down, I don't want you to throw up or anything," Paige insisted as she walked up to you, pulling you away from the living room of the house party you were in, preventing you from throwing back another shot. The party was hosted by a senior at the end of your neighborhood, just walking distance from both of your houses.

"What's your problem P, I'm just having fun," you argued back, doing your best to enunciate your words to prevent having a slur, knowing she would cut you off immediately if you got too drunk. You were pretty good at holding your liquor, somehow being a natural heavy-weight when it came to drinking.

"Come on Paigey, just lighten up a little, it's the fourth of fucking July, have fun with me. Ooo, we should do a shot together," you elbowed her side jokingly, looking up at her hesitant expression with your best puppy dog eyes.

Her concerned expression softened, you knew it was wrong of you to take advantage of the fact she could never say no to you, but she was the reason you were adamant on drinking to the point of memory loss tonight.

As shameful as it felt to admit it, your best friend had been haunting your every waking moment for the last few months, and you were desperate for an escape from your own thoughts. You always knew you felt something deeper than friendship for Paige, the way your heartbeat would speed up at every touch of her hands, the way you found yourself unable to tear your eyes off of her, on and off the court, and especially, the way you could not escape the mental replay of your kiss.

The press of her soft lips against yours, the slight vanilla taste from her chapstick you so often borrowed, the way the skin of her jaw felt so soft in the palm of your hand, and the way your body melted into hers, pressed against her warm figure.

So, like any reasonable sixteen year old, you were determined to get absolutely shit-faced tonight, to the point where you wouldn't even be able to remember your own name. And the only way that would happen, is if Paige stopped monitoring your every sip of alcohol.

"Okay fine, one shot, but that's it. We can't both be super drunk," She relented, allowing you to pull her back into the kitchen to pour yourself shots.

And just to your luck, Paige had run into a few friends and teammates, leaving you alone with a few class friends for what she intended to be only a few minutes, but ended up being a little over half an hour. Those thirty ish minutes were all you needed to take two more shots, chug one whiteclaw and two beers, and finish a cup of a vodka sprite.

By the time Paige came back, still mostly sober, she was pissed to see that you were plastered, hanging off the shoulder of some guy she could recognize, but was too mad to focus on. She couldn't figure out why you were drinking so much tonight, despite her warning, you were practically making yourself sick for the next day, and you wouldn't even tell her the reason you had been off lately, brushing it off with some bullshitted excuse of school or your parents.

"Yo, who's the blonde chick staring at you?" The random guy you were talking to asked, nodding his head towards Paige, who was leaned against one of the kitchen counters and boring holes into the guy's head.

"Paigeyyy," you called out, lifting your now very heavy head from his shoulder as he pointed out your best friend who was now within eyeline, a deeply annoyed expression settled into her otherwise soft features.

"Hey me and Jenna are gonna head out, it's already past two and she's clearly done drinking for tonight," Paige announced to the group of friends you were hanging out with as she moved towards you, gently guiding your arm over shoulder and pulling you away from the other guy.

"Hey she's fine," the guy you were previously all over slightly slurred, "What are you her babysitter or somethin?"

"Dude worry about yourself, you look like you’re two seconds away from passing out," she snapped at him before walking away, supporting around half of your weight as the two of you exited the house.

"You're always so good to me Paigey, always my taking care of me," you drunkenly mumbled into her shoulder, pressing yourself further into her in an attempt to warm yourself up with her body heat. The summer night in Minnesota wasn't too bad, but your lack of a jacket wasn't helping.

"We'll reach your house in like five minutes, you just gotta walk till there okay?" She spoke firmly, avoiding glancing down at your slouched figure attached to her.

"You're always my best girl," you continued your drunken ramble.

"Always there fo' me, you cuddle me and you kiss me, and you even walk me home," for some selfish reason, she didn't have it in her to stop you. She knew it wasn't fair to you, letting you pour your innermost thoughts or feelings out to her when you weren't in the right state of mind, but she couldn't bear to stop the compliments gushing from your mouth.

"No need to date anyone in the whole wide world when I have you. You're so much nicer than the other girls. Or boys. And prettier. You're the prettiest out of all of them. So pretty, even when you're all sweaty and gross in basketball. You even kiss nice, don't wanna kiss anyone else after you kissed me," she finally cut your mindless babble into her neck off.

"We're here, I need your keys," her voice was curt, almost like she didn't want to be with you anymore. You lifted your head out of the crook of her neck to fumble around the pockets of your jeans, finally pulling out your lanyard and holding it out for her.

She took it from your grasp quickly, unlocking your house and helping you in to take both of your shoes off and lead you up into your bathroom, sitting you on the closed toilet as she went into your room to grab a change of clothes for you.

You leaned your head back in the two minutes she had left, closing your eyes and barely drifting off when she re-entered the bathroom, waking you up so she could help you change and take off your makeup.

It wasn't until you were sitting against the headboard of your bed, watching her move around your room to collect stray clothes from the floor into your hamper that the two of you finally spoke again.

"Paigey are you mad at me?" the nickname slipped from your mouth once again as you questioned her quietly. Paigey was something that usually only Drew called her regularly, but for some reason it was the only thing you referred to her as when drunk.

"Yes Jenna, is that what you wanna hear? That I'm fucking pissed off at you? You've been acting weird for the last like, two months. And no matter how much I try, you won't open up to me, it's frustrating me," she exclaimed pausing her movements around the room to rant to you despite her better judgement telling her she shouldn't talk to you about this while you're drunk.

"And then tonight you're all over some random douche, pretending like everything is fine when you know it's not. Then you start spewing that bullshit about me I know you don't mean because you're drunk."

You stayed silent for a few moments before you responded, "'M sorry, I shouldn't have shut you out for something you didn't do. But saying I don't mean what I said? That's not fair and you know it."

"Stop it Jenna, I think that you should just go to sleep. You're so drunk, you're not even coherent anymore, and I don't want to have this conversation with you like this,"

"What if I just wanna tell you how pretty you are, or how nice you kiss? Or that I love-"

"Stop Jenna, please just stop," Paige shut her eyes, her voice sounding nearly painful.

"Please J, you're drunk and you don't mean it. You can't say things like that and not mean it to me, I can't take it," she begged.

"If I say it to you tomorrow will you believe me?" you whispered, hesitating before continuing.

"If I tell you I love you tomorrow, will you say it back? Will you mean it the same way I mean it?" you pleaded with her, desperate to hear that she felt the same way you did, that you weren’t the only idiot who had fallen in love with her best friend.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch," she muttered, walking out of your room and closing the door behind her. You could feel your heart sinking, the tears burning in your eyes, threatening to pour out at the smallest movement.

You stare at the door for a few minutes, praying that Paige would change her mind, burst back in and say that she did love you too, that you weren’t alone. She would pull you into her, kiss you stupid, and cuddle you for the rest of the night.

But she didn't and you eventually cried yourself into an uncomfortable sleep, tossing and turning the whole night.

***the next morning***

Your eyes fluttered open from the sunlight beaming through my half-closed curtains. Your head was pounding, threatening to split in half as you turned over, burying yourself into the pillow underneath your comforter.

You tried my best to recall what had happened last night that left you nearly dead the next morning. As you fought to focus despite a dry throat, aching body, and throbbing head, a specific moment came pouring back.

There was no fucking way.

You told Paige, presumably straight Paige, your best friend ever Paige, that you loved her. You had gone on a whole fucking tangent about how pretty she was, how nobody could compare, and the fact that you loved her.

You shot up in bed, fighting every painful twinge in your body to reach for your phone, when you saw a water bottle with two advils on your nightstand. You quickly chugged them as you reached for your phone, unplugging it from the charger. That was something you had most definitely not remembered to do last night.

At 7:21 in the morning there was only one text from Paige.

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

Peanut Butter 💜: Hey, my step-mom called me over to help her clean some stuff up. You went pretty hard last night so I left some water and painkillers for you, make sure you take them and eat breakfast. I'll see you later yeah?

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

Fuck, did she not remember what had happened last night? No, that wasn't possible, she barely drank. Did she want to pretend like it never happened? Was it because she didn't feel the same about you? As it was, she didn't allow you to finish saying you were in love with her, and it wasn't like she said it back. Was she trying to avoid ruining your friendship?

She had texted you almost three hours ago, which meant your parents had to already be back from their night shift and everyone in her house was probably awake.

You threw your phone out onto your bed, slamming yourself back down and under your covers.

What were your options here? Either pretend like it never happened and continue hopelessly pining after your best friend, confess your feelings only to get rejected and ruin your friendship, or the least likely of them all.

You told her and she felt the same.

You thought long and hard about what to do. As much as it would hurt to only be something, continuing to hide your feelings, it would be worse to be nothing to her, right?

But if it had slipped out of you once, wasn't there the chance it could happen again? What if it was even worse the next time, what if it was in public and everyone ended up finding out.

It would be better to own up to the truth now, right? Right? Right, you decided.

You finally mustered up the courage to leave the safe haven of your bed. dragging yourself to the bathroom to freshen up (ESPECIALLY BRUSHING YOUR TEETH) before quietly exiting your house, walking across the street to hers.

You knocked on the door firmly, knowing the Bueckers weren't the biggest fans of using the doorbell.

"Jenna," Drew exclaimed as he opened the door for you, allowing you into the house you had quickly claimed as your second home.

"What's up little man," you greeted him while taking off your slippers, "Where's your sister?" You asked him.

You had made it a habit to call Paige, Drew's sister, when talking to him. You felt bad that people always mentioned him as Paige's little brother instead of taking two seconds to learn his name, so you always made the effort to make sure he felt seen.

"She's in her room, she said she was feeling weird when she came home and she won't leave her room," he told you.

Shit, that meant she did remember what had happened. Well, it was now or never.

"Thanks Drew, Hi Mrs. Bueckers," you waved to her in the kitchen as you made your way to the stairs, bounding up two at a time to reach Paige's room faster. Her door was shut when you reached, and you knocked lightly on the wood.

"Hey P, it's me," you called out through the closed door, waiting to hear her mumbled, come in, before turning the knob. She was laying down in her bed, putting her phone down as she looked up at you.

"How you feeling Jelly? You drank a lot last night," she asked quietly, her hands fiddling with the top of her comforter, something you knew she did when she was nervous.

"Not that bad," you moved to sit down next to her lying figure, gazing down at her exhausted face. You could tell she hadn't slept well last night either, surely from your intoxicated confession.

"Listen, I know I was really stupid last night, but what we were talking about in my room," Paige cut you off before you could finish.

"Hey it's fine, I get it. You were really drunk and you get kind of emotional at that stage, so it's not even a big deal-"

"Oh my god Paige will you let me even speak? I meant what I said last night," you interrupted. There was no way you would allow her to brush this under the rug the same way you let her pretend your kiss had never happened.

"You're not just my best friend, you're my everything. You mean the literal world to me, there's barely anything I wouldn't do for you, because I'm in love with you. I have been for a reallly really long time now, that's why I was trying to keep my distance. It hurt, being around you and pretending like my heart wasn't going to explode at nearly everything you said or did with me," you professed, watching her expression morph from faked nonchalance to shock, and slowly, a small smile broke out.

"You, you love me love me? Like, you're in love with me? In a more than friends way?" She sat up to face you fully as she questioned you, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for your response.

"No shit Sherlock Holmes, it's almost like I said it like four times now, and you're still not-" she didn't let you finish your exasperated sentence before pulling you into her, pressing your lips firmly into hers.

You closed your eyes as you sighed into the minty kiss, melting into her hold as she moved her lips against you slowly, the rest of the world faded away as the two of you found peace in each other's embrace.

"You know you still haven't told me you love me back," you mumbled against her lips as the two of you separated a minute later, a wide grin stretched out across your face.

"No shit I love you too Sherlock Holmes," she teased, using the nickname you had come up with against you. "Have been for a while now, glad you finally noticed," she pulled you into her as she flopped down to lie down on her side, facing you.

The two of you continued to exchange light pecks and languid kisses, reveling in the comfort of your intertwined bodies in Paige's warm bed.

"Does this mean we're dating?" Paige pulled back to watch your face as she asked.

"Yeah P, this means you're my girlfriend now. Just mine, kay?" You beamed, caressing her cheek with your thumb.

"Got it, as long as you're only mine J."

December 23rd, 2019 (Winter Break, senior year; 18 years old)

Paige’s POV:

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Jenna giggled at my response, her laughter rumbling her body against mine. She was currently sprawled over my body in tiny pajama shorts and a cropped tank top, her head laying on my chest as she wrote random words onto my left arm for me to guess, my other hand wrapped tightly over her waist, eliminating any space that may have been between us.

Jenna had finally finished all of her college applications and we both took our winter finals two weeks prior, leaving us to peacefully enjoy our Christmas and New Years together.

We had already been dating for over a year now, and if I wasn't completely and irrevocably head over heels for Jenna Smyths before, I most definitely was now. The two of us were already inseparable even before we started dating, but since last July it was almost like we couldn't spend go more than twenty-four hours apart, which our families had slowly started picking up on.

We never really told my family that we were dating, just slowly started leaving hints here and there. Spending more time together, being more cuddly or touchy with the other person (all pg of course), and we went to our most recent school dances together, as friends, but still.

Even at school or in public, we basically acted the same as we always did, and despite the rumors running rampant in the many gossip circles, no one had any evidence to prove any allegation, and when prompted, we always gave the same answer, "She's my best friend".

But with Jenna's family on the other hand, only her mom knew after a really awkward walking-in incident. It wasn't too bad, it just so happened that one night when I was sleeping over at her house in March, we were innocently making out in her bed, as any seventeen year-old couple did, when her mom walked in to tell us that we were going out for breakfast the next morning. We quickly separated, but not fast enough to evade her mom.

Needless to say, the two of us had to endure a very, very embarrassing conversation of being safe and responsible together, and the only reason she didn't rat us out to Jenna's dad or my family to stop our sleepovers was the fact that neither of us could get pregnant from anything we may or may not do.

Unfortunately, our "separation anxiety problem" proved to be quite the difficult challenge when I had to leave for the team USA basketball games and Jenna went on college tours with her parents. The two of us managed to get by through near constant texting and nightly FaceTime calls, which I've accepted may be the norm for our relationship in the future.

I already committed to UConn back in April, but Jenna still hasn't decided where she wants to go. She's applied sort of everywhere, California, Washington, Michigan, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course, Connecticut. She hasn't told me what her top pick is out of all of her applications, but I had a feeling she was refraining from telling me because it was going to be one of the furthest ones from UConn.

I didn't mind having to do long distance, as hard as it would be, I would take that struggle over losing Jenna any day. But there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind that Jenna didn't agree, that she would rather break up than have to deal with long distance.

But that couldn't happen to us, we were Paige and Jenna, Peanut Butter and Jelly, and there was no way that we would break up because of college. I mean sure, we had real arguments every once in awhile, one of us got a little jealous, or we were tired or annoyed and accidentally took it out on the other person. But those never lasted long, both of us being too weak to remain mad at the other for more than a day.

One of the biggest arguments we had was over one of my newest and closest friends, Azzi Fudd. We met through team USA and got really close really quickly, which Jenna wasn't the fondest of. We never talked about her until I had gotten back, and Jenna finally burst when I paused our conversation to text Azzi back.

It wasn't until after I assured Jenna that Azzi was straight and was definitely not interested in me in anyway since she had a crush on a boy at her school, that she was my girlfriend and the only one I had eyes for, and she met Azzi in person for the first time that she understood just how platonic our friendship was and also formed a connection with the younger girl.

To be fair, Jenna wasn't the only one with slight jealousy issues, or as she called it, me being "territorial", which I wholeheartedly disagree with. I just think that some of the guys and girls she's friends with don't need to be all over her all the time, but Jenna was just a naturally affectionate person who made everyone around her feel loved and seen, and I understood that doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way.

Which is all to say that despite any minor bumps in the road, our relationship was as steady and strong as ever, and there was no where else in the world I would rather be right now than in bed with Jenna's body covering mine.

"I wrote bball doofus, okay there's no way you don't get this next one," she remarked teasingly. I pinched her side as she stifled her laughter, adjusting herself over me before going to write her next phrase on my bicep. I was wearing a similar tank top to hers, but with warmer, full length pajama pants. Jenna always refused to admit when she was feeling cold, which was always, instead choosing to intertwine her legs with mine, absorbing any body heat radiating off of me.

I closed my eyes and focused on her fingers fluttering over my arm, concentrating on the words she attempted to spell out. It was a phrase so familiar to us at this point I had figured it out before she had even gotten to the last word.

I smiled down at her, watching as she moved her gaze from her writing to my face, a wide grin and blush present on her features.

"I love you," I whispered to her, admiring at the way her cheeks flushed deeper at my statement. She never used to be the type of person who got easily flustered or shied away from a challenge, but when it came down to the sweetest moments like this, her body was almost constantly some shade of red or pink.

Jenna wasn't the most openly affectionate person, she often got shy when it came to dates, romantic gesture, even verbally expressing her feelings. But by driving me around all the time when I didn't have my car or even my license, helping me with homework last minute, doing my hair for games, cooking and baking food for me, and remembering the smallest details about me, she showed me how much she loved me, and that was always enough for me.

"I love you too," she whispered back, resting her chin on my chest as she continued to gaze up at me, deep adoration present in her eyes, and without a doubt, I was sure I was looking back at her with either the same or deeper level of infatuation. I moved my hand around her waist to draw small circles on the sliver of skin that was exposed, relishing in the sweet intimacy.

Moments like this were my favorite, relishing in the presence of one of my favorite people on earth, quiet and at peace with no distractions, just the two of us enjoying our time spent together.

"Wait I wanna switch, it's your turn to be the big spoon," I patted her waist to guide her to flip over onto her back, so I could lay my head down on her this time.

One of the things I loved to do with Jenna was listen to her heartbeat, it was the beat of a song I would never know the name of, but it was my favorite. To me, it proved the tangibility of the connection between our souls, the love we held for each other. It was listening to the sound that kept my life force breathing, that allowed me to keep my rock and anchor, the person I loved the most and showed me that everyday was worth living, no matter what, because it was with her.

May 22nd, 2020 (End of Senior Year; 18 years old)

My heart sank at the silence I received from Paige, she was sitting across from me on my bed and kept switching from quietly scanning over the letter on my computer screen to changing the tabs, looking over all the schools I had received acceptance letters from.

Despite getting into UConn with Paige, and even universities close to her on the East Coast, like NYU and UPenn, I was choosing to commit to UCLA, my dream school since I was seven. It was safe to say Paige wasn't thrilled with my decision, evident through her lack of a response.

"P? Please say something, literally anything," I begged, her silence was unsettling, and her face was stoic and near emotionless, which meant I had no idea of the thoughts running through her head right now.

"I don't even know what you want me to say. Or expect me to do," she paused before continuing, "I am so proud of you and everything you've done and accomplished to make it this far, but I feel so," she stopped, collecting her thoughts and emotions before continuing.

"I almost want to hate you for choosing to go so far, for choosing to leave me and be so far away from me when we both know this kind of long-distance won't work," her voice cracked, at the end of her sentence. Rather than continuing to talk, she raised the collar of her t-shirt to her eyes, tucking her head under to hide the tears that had begun to spill out.

You moved your laptop away so could close some of the distance between the two of you. You gently cupped her face, coaxing her to let go of her t-shirt so you could look directly in her eyes.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but I can't not go Paige. I need to do this for myself and I know that if I don't go, or at least give it my best shot, I'll regret it for the rest of my life," her heartbroken expression was painful for you to watch, only making it harder for you to refrain from crying.

"If I asked you to even consider, not even coming to UConn with me but like, NYU or something, literally anywhere closer to make the long distance work, would you?" Her eyes bore into yours, searching for the answer she dreaded hearing.

You waited a moment to answer, not to think over your answer or consider her question, you already knew the answer. But to compose yourself, holding in the pain you felt from hurting the only person who would ever love you like this.

You dropped your hands from her face before responding, "No."

You could see, practically hear, her heart shatter at your response, not expecting you to be so cold and short with her. She was openly crying now, her voice now shaky and slightly higher-pitched.

"So all the times that you told me that you couldn't imagine living without me, that you needed me, that you felt like you could only breathe around me, that was all bullshit? Or you just, what, changed your mind?"

"I never lied to you about that Paige, all of those things are still true. But this is my dream, I obviously didn't go into this whole process expecting to get into one of the top universities in the nation. If I asked you the same thing right now, to give up UConn and accept one of the recruitment offers you got closer to UCLA, would you?"

"Don't turn this around on me and make me the selfish one right now. That's not fair and you know it Jenna. Getting recruited is different, it determines whether or not I can go pro in the future, it makes all the difference in the world when it comes time for me to get drafted in the W."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything Paige, I'm just trying to make you understand that I can't give up UCLA. And selfish, really? Trying to make a life for myself, going to the college of my dreams, that's selfish?"

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tear-streaked face.

"You have to understand what it feels like to be in my position right now. You're my everything, my best friend, my girlfriend, the one person who knows me better than anyone, even my parents. And you just dropped a bomb of information on me. From day one, I have always been clear about where I wanted to go to college, and I signed as soon as I got the offer. But you never said anything about that, and on top of it, you were always the one who talked about our future together, and now it's like you're taking all of your previous statement back."

"I'm sorry Paige. I'm so sorry that I'm doing this to you, that I'm hurting you. That was never my intention with this. You're my everything too, but that's not right and that's not how it should be. One person can't be my whole life, and I can't be yours either. No matter how much I love you and need you, I also need this for myself."

Paige's eyes were bloodshot at this point, and you hadn't noticed when, but somewhere during your conversation you had given up on trying to hold back your own tears.

"I've already submitted a housing application, the apartments open from June but usually students don't go until July or August, so I'll still be here for a little while," you sniffled.

As much as your decision hurt Paige, you knew it was the right thing for both of you. Paige had to focus on basketball and you needed to focus on school and your own future, and maybe the time apart would allow you to grow together rather than apart.

After all, isn't distance supposed to make the heart grow fonder?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, any and all support is greatly appreciated!!

[gguk-n]

Can you please write second change romance with Lando where reader tells him "Love me. chose me. for once in your damned life, fight for me!"

Reader is working at sky sports as a journalist. I hope you like it. I hope I did it justice.

Track of the Heart

{Reader's POV}

I knew the world was a small place and some times you run into people you are actively trying to avoid. For me, that was Lando Norris.

We were both young and in love. He was my first serious adult relationship. I loved him deeply; if you asked drunk me, I'd probably say that I still love him. But that was the past. He broke up with me because his fans didn't like me. The hate had gotten to the point that I had stopped using my phone except to call or text my friends and family and Lando knew. I had told him through tears about all the mean things people said about me. Part of me hoped that he would tell them off for it but what I didn't expect was for him to disregard it and let it get so bad that even at races people would name call me, even in front of Lando and he would do nothing. It affected my health, my mental peace and my studies. So, I did what was best for me; walked away.

That was 3 years ago. Right now I was standing face to face with the man that broke my heart. I knew when I applied for a position at Sky Sports that I would run into Lando. Luckily, I had stayed clear of him for the year that I had interned there; by only going to cover other sports and minor leagues. Today, the team was short staffed, they needed someone to help make the scripts and organise the cue cards, so they brought along a couple new hires. I did everything in my power to evade the race because it would mean being stuck on an F1 venue for a whole weekend with my ex. My direct superior wouldn't listen to any of my crap, as he put it and told me to pack my stuff and to meet him at the venue.

So here I was, awkwardly standing, in front of the supposed love of my life. He looked shocked to see me before his eyes flickered to the Sky Sports entry pass, as if a switch flipped. He smiled and greeted; "You're finally a sports journalist, like you always wanted to be. Congratulations" he said while raising his hand to shake mine. Out of courtesy, I moved all the files in my hands to my left and shook his hand. "My colleagues were saying you had your maiden win this season, so Congratulations I guess." I retorted. I adjusted the files in my hands, almost dropping one, which Lando quickly caught with his hand. I thanked him and left to see the team with all my files.

{Lando's POV}

Her hands were still soft like I remembered them with a sweet tinge of vanilla, her favourite body lotion. She had coloured her hair recently and she looked so much more professional and put together then I remembered. I guess it comes with the job. Hearing her congratulate me felt like home even if it felt like it was laced with sarcasm, like the only thing that ever mattered. How did I even celebrate a race without her? She was still clumsy I thought as I caught the file she almost dropped. The weekend just got more eventful I thought as she walked away.

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

{Reader's POV}

If there is one thing I will advice you is that don't be a hard worker especially in a situation if it will land you working with your ex for the whole year. One of the members from the F1 team went on maternity leave and she spoke so highly of me that I ended up working on the races till she returned. Now to my horror, all the fans still remembered me. Even after 3 years, they did not hesitate to start up rumours about me and Lando being together and that we never really broke up and it was all a publicity stunt. I had to speak to my bosses to let them know that all of that was in the past and that I wasn't dating him anymore; they didn't care unless it affected my work.

Working at the paddock wasn't easy and Lando didn't make it any easier. He acted like a menace before and after interviews especially if I was around. Sometimes I wanted to strangle him.

{Lando's POV}

Being around her reminded me why I had fallen in love with her in the first place. She brought the idiotic side of me out. "Mate, you need to stop annoying Y/N. She'll strangle you one day." Carlos said while they were on the drivers parade. "She wouldn't. There's a reason she's tolerating me." I said. "Yeah, sky sports pays her to do her job." Carlos laughed. Part of me wanted to believe that she tolerated me because she still loved. But I knew that was selfish of me, since the reason we broke up lay heavily on me.

This made me want to be closer to her. I guess proximity made the heart softer. I found myself bringing her snacks or treats during her long days. Slowly but surely I found myself back in her arms. We didn't out right say it, but we were dating each other. She made the weekends even more enjoyable. It was exhilarating to be running around trying not to get caught; until we did get caught. It was like a switch flipped inside her and she stopped seeing me.

{Reader's POV}

The gifts and the sneaking away and having someone care for me got to me. Before I knew it I was back in Lando's arms. I knew getting back together with Lando was a bad idea. All my suspicions were confirmed when a picture of us leaving together from a club in Las Vegas made rounds. The hate was worse then before; it's like they forgot there was a person behind it all. I couldn't even shut off social media because of my work. I didn't want to be seen with him anymore; I was going to stop reporting for F1 and live my life covering other sports. Hopefully they didn't find me there. Lando was still persistent even after I had stopped talking to him and cut him off.

"Babe, you gotta stop running away from me." Lando spoke cornering me, out of breath from the running. "I have work to do, if you'll excuse me Mr Norris." I said. "Since, when was I Mr Norris?" He questioned. "Since a while, I never should've gotten back with you." I declared. "You don't mean that." Lando stammered. "Actually I do." saying that broke my heart because deep down I loved him but it didn't feel like he loved me. "But I love you. Don't you love me?" he asked. "It doesn't matter what I feel, when you'll never reciprocate it." I pointed out. "What do you mean?" he pleaded. "Lando, the exact reason we broke up was because you couldn't stick up for me. I knew you and yet I got myself involved in this." I sighed. "But, baby I need you." he voiced. I laughed, there were tears in my eyes, "Not enough to stick up for me." "What's gotten into you?" Lando probed. "Nothing's gotten into me, I should've stayed away from you. Your fans hate me, they always have. They want me fired; did you know that?" I asked. Lando was at a loss for words.

"You know when we broke up I wanted you to want me. But you love your fans more." I commented. "It's not like that I love you more, I missed you a lot after we broke up." he said. "Not enough to clear the air anyways." I voiced out. "What do you want me to do?" Lando asked trying to reach for my hands. "Love me, choose me. For once in your damned life, fight for me. If you really want me you'll do something, or you can watch me walk away for the second time." I stated while turning on my heels and leaving.

I did not expect Lando to do what he did next. He made a statement on every social media account of his, even Quadrants; it read-

Hi guys, Lando here. I would like to let you all know that I love Y/N Y/L/N who is currently working for Sky Sports F1. We used to date a few years ago but we broke up because of my foolishness. Fate gave me another chance and I don't want to blow it. If any of you have any issue with her, keep it to yourself. Because she is here to stay for as long as she will have me. Kindly refrain from sending her any hate if you love and support me. If you do send hate, I will be forced to take legal action to protect the love of my life.

I was sat in shock reading the statement. I can already imagine the train wreck McLaren PR must be in. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on my door. I opened it to find a sweaty Lando with a big bouquet of flowers, chocolates and a couple gift bags. "I know this isn't a lot, but this is a start. Let me apologise. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused you. Please take me back." he said with tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I love you too Lando Norris." I declared. Lando dropped all the stuff on the ground and wrapped his arms around me. "I won't let you down, I promise." he said. "I'll hold you to it." I said. "You can hold it against me for the rest of our lives." he told. "I don't think you want me that long." I laughed. He broke our embrace to cup my cheeks, "I'll have you as long as you'll let me stay." and pressed a kiss against my lips. "I think I'll like to have you inside for now." I said while pulling him in and closing the door.

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Makeup Trailer

A/N: I have a cooper howard smut ideaa, could you write something where the reader is his makeup artist on a new movie hes working. Theres an Automatic connection they really click and have some sweet sexual tension and after working together for a while during the movie the tension keeps growing growing and they get steamy in the makeup trailer. Oh oh also could i request this to be in 2nd person if possible ty ty love ur writing ride a cowboy was sooooo good!!!

I hope this was what you wanted! Sorry it took me awhile, it's hard to focus sometimes and between work and life I tried so hard to make this good 😅

18+ no minors

As you headed toward the makeup trailer, a modest space but packed with all the essentials to turn actors into their on-screen personal. As she stepped inside, she was greeted by the familiar scent of makeup and hairspray. The trailer was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

You arrived on the bustling movie set early, the morning sun barely cresting over the horizon. The set was already alive with activity, crew members scurrying around, cameras and lights being adjusted. This was a major production. Despite the pressure, you felt a surge of excitement. This was what you loved—transforming someone else, bringing a character to life.

You turned on the radio and let the soft melodies fill the air as you got to work, organizing and preparing to get ready. The door to the trailer opened and in walked Cooper Howard. He was an attractive and talented man; its what made you take the job as you always enjoyed watching his movies.

You smiled from behind the makeup chair, “good morning, Mr. Howard.”

"Morning, Y/N," he replied, flashing you a charming smile.

"Ready to become someone else?" You asked with amusement.

"Always," Cooper said, settling into the chair.

As you began your work, there was an immediate connection between you two, an almost electric chemistry. Talking about everything—movies, books, life experiences. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by moments of shared laughter.

The next few days turned into weeks and your bond only grew stronger. Yet with your bond there was a palpable tension. You were finding yourself thinking about Cooper more and more, distracted by his presence even when he wasn't around. You would sometimes pause, your fingers lingering just a bit longer on his skin, your gaze softening when your eyes met.

One particularly long day of shooting had left everyone exhausted. Cooper returned to the makeup trailer for some touch-ups, finding you waiting for him. The usual banter was absent, replaced by charged silence. You worked methodically, your hands gentle but deliberate.

During those moments it was so hard to not take action. Leaning in close to make sure no extra powder was on his face. You could smell the cinnamon gum he chewed on in-between takes. One time you were embarrassed when helping another makeup artist perfect her work. You leaned over to point out a few touch ups when you realized you had practically put your boobs in Cooper's face. You quickly stood up and walked around to help, realizing it was quite hot in the trailer. When you returned back to Cooper, you apologized for earlier.

"Not a problem, darlin," he replied in a low voice. You could see a glint of interest in his eyes but brushed it off as you thought it was unprofessional.

A day later when you were returning back to the trailer after lunch, an assistant was walking past with a cable. You didn't see it was unraveled before tripping on it. You weren't expecting an arm to snap out and pull you against a warm body. You looked up to see Cooper glaring at the assistant before running to you. His face softening as he brought a hand up to brush away a few stray hairs.

"You alright darlin'?"

You gulped before smiling, "yes Cooper. You saves me."

His grin got wide as he tipped his hat to you. "It's no problem, darlin'. I'd happily save you anytime."

You giggled before looking over and seeing people watching you two. You cleared your throat before stepping back. You brushed your hands down your dress before saying a quick 'thank you', turning to walk away.

"Hey," he called out before grabbing your wrist. "How does a cowboy go about getting a proper thank you?"

You turned and felt your face go red before quickly standing on tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. As you pulled back you saw his mouth part and his eyes darken a bit before giving you another smile.

"Is that all?"

"I'll have to properly thank you another time Cooper," you purred before walking away. You quickly walked to your makeup trailer with your cheeks burning.

When you walked into the trailer you couldn't help the squeal that escaped as you fanned yourself. You couldn't believe you just did that. And promising to thank him another time, you knew this was going to be an interesting week.

You chewed at the bottom of your lip as you removed some makeup that smudged. You weren't use to the silence from Cooper as the radio kept playing a melody.

“Cooper, you’ve been quiet today,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, seeing the concern etched in your features.

“Just thinking,” he replied, his voice huskier than usual.

“About what?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“About you,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Y/N's hand froze mid-motion, your eyes widening slightly.

“Cooper…”

He stood up abruptly, turning to face you. The space felt too small, the air thick with unspoken words.

“Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, stepping closer.

“I feel this connection, this pull. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you watched as his face slightly fell, fearing that he misread everything. But you stepped towards him, closing the distance. Bringing your hand up to touch his cheek, turning him to face you again.

“I feel it too,” you whispered.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if you were both testing the waters. But then it deepened, filled with all the unspoken emotions and tension that had been building between them. Your hands slid to his chest, clutching his shirt as if afraid he might disappear.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed.

“Wow,” you said, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” Cooper agreed, his own smile mirroring yours, “wow.”

The world outside the trailer continued in its frenetic pace, but for that moment, it was just the two of you. The energy drew you closer to him with a fire lighting inside of you. Cooper must have seen it or felt the same way as he pulled you into a passionate kiss. You gladly opened your mouth to him as he deepened the kiss.

You were leaning against him and the lack of air must have made him dizzy because he suddenly stepped back into the counter that you placed your makeup on. It made everything jolt and roll off or roll over onto the floor; but it didn't both either of you as he tangled his hand into your hair. You moaned lowly as he tugged at your strands before you pulled away panting. His eyes were ablazed as you slowly knelt in front of him. You gave him a wide grin as you rub his budlge in his jeans. He groaned and dropped his head back as you fiddled with his belt buckle.

“Can I have a taste Coop?”

“Yes,” he rasped as you unbuckled his belt. You decided to tease the man as you slowly unbuttoned and slid the zipper down. You pulled his pants and boxers down as his cock sprang up. You ran a finger from the slit in the head down his cock, following along a vein, until the base. You gazed up at him through your lashes and saw he was already staring down at you. His chest was heaving in pants as he gritted his teeth.

You held eye contact as you gave a little lick to his head. Jumping a little as his fist connected with the top of the counter.

“Darlin’,” he growled between his teeth. “You keep that up and I'm gonna have to spank you for teasin’.”

You giggled as you wrapped a hand around his base and licked up the vein before taking him into your mouth. He groaned before placing one hand on the back of your head and stroked your hair in encouragement. You hummed as you took down as far as you could before pulling back to stroke his cock.

As you moved your hand up and down, you can tell it will be a bit of a stretch if you decide to fuck him. With that thought you could feel how wet you were getting with each stroke and each noise that leaves Cooper's mouth. You lick at his slit, tasting his cum before putting him back on your mouth.

“Fuck darlin’,” he stopped petting your hair to storke down your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. You heard a whine come from him as he barley thrusts into your mouth.

“Look up at me darling girl. I want to watch as you swallow my cum.”

Your eyes fluttered open to stare into his eyes. You could see his shoulders relaxed as you did and his mouth drops open with moan. You place your hands down on your lap and open your mouth wider as he takes over. His hands tangle in your hair and starts panting as he thrusts into your mouth.

You try so hard to keep your eyes open as one of your hands pulls up your skirt and shove your panties to the side to rub at your clit. His eyes moved down to see what she was doing and throws his head back before starting to ramble.

“Fuck Y/N, you're enjoying this? God you're so perfect for me. Sucking my cock like you were made for it. You're such a good girl. I'm gonna cum soon. You want it in your mouth?”

At his last question, his head snaps back down to catch your eyes as you whine and try to give a nod. He groans as thrusts into your mouth again to cum down your throat. You gag a bit at the last thrust before swallowing his cum down. As he pulls away you stick your tongue to show you swallowed it down as he grins.

“Good girl. Now get up here.”

He helps you stand on shaky legs, not use to being in that position for so long. He pulled you into a kiss as one hand squeezed your breast. You moaned as he pushed you down to sit on the makeup chair. You took in a shaky breath as he got on his knees. He grinned as you pushed your hips up to pull your panties off. He pulled them off and placed your legs on his shoulders before diving down to lick up your slit. You cried out with your head throwing back as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

Your body slid down as you reached up to grab the headrest and tangle your fingers into his hair. You give a tug and he moans against you. The vibrations made you moan out his name. He suddenly pulled away as you whined pitifully at the loss, before he pulled you into a kiss.

“I'm sorry darlin’ but I have to have you,” he kissed down your neck. He pulled you up before settling into the chair. He had you facing the mirror as he pulled you back into him. You leaned back into him as he grabbed your hips. You laid your head on his shoulder as he teased his cock against your opening. He used your slick to lube up his cock before pushing into you. You hid your face into his neck as you gasped and clawed at the chair arms. He felt too big and didnt think he was going to fit all the way. He moaned as you squeezed around him and shifted around to get comfortable.

“Here baby sit up.” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke. He helped you sit up properly, your skirt bunched up around your waist. You looked up in front of you in the mirror and couldn't believe how wrecked you looked. Your face was flushed with wide eyes and lipstick smeared. Cooper sat up and you watched him as he took in the both of you.

“A perfect picture, don't you think?”

He smiled as you nodded along before wrapping an arm around your waist. You placed your hands on the chair arms again as lifted yourself up before dropping down. His eyes snapped shut and mouth open in a low moan as you repeated the motion. His other hand pushed your shirt up and bra down to expose your breasts. He pinched your nipple before letting go to rub his thumb against it.

You cried out and shifted your hips until it hit the spot that made you almost fall forward. He held onto you as he moved his legs wider and pushed up into you. You couldn't help the sob that fell out as you rolled your hips and just let him take over. The arm around your waist moved so his hand could come down and rub at your clit.

“Baby I want you to open your eyes.”

You didn't realize you had shut them until you saw how he positioned you to see his cock disappearing inside of you. You could see how easy he was moving from how wet you were. You could see how it was running down his thighs and squeezed around him again. He pinched at your clit and it made you start to shake.

“Cooper,” you whined out. Your legs were getting tense and toes curling. You could feel yourself start to titter into an orgasm as he pinched and pulled your nipple.

“Come on darlin'. You can come for me. I want to go home and be able to smell you on me.”

The way he was moving and the dirty talk helped push you over the edge. You sobbed as your whole body shook and scratched at the armchair. He pulled you back against him as he kissed your neck. He kept fucking up into you making your orgasm feel like it was lasting forever. As the orgasm ebbed away you registered that you were repeating Cooper's name, almost like a prayer on your lips. The man whispered your name into your neck before his hips stuttered. You let out a low hum before turning your head to bring him into a kiss.

“I want you to cum inside of me Cooper, please?” You purred against him and brought your hand up to tug at his hair.

He looked at you like you just hung the stars in the sky before he came with a low groan of your name. You pulled him into a kiss as his hips jerked and slammed into you for a final time. It was a while before either one of you moved, taking your time to relax and take in one another. You slowly stood to not make either of you uncomfortable as you felt everything start to leak out. You grabbed a few rags to clean up the mess between your legs, straightening out your skirt and fixing your bra and shirt back. He just pulled up his boxers and pants as he then pulled you to him. You sat back into his lap as he relaxed back into the chair, holding you close.

You closed your eyes as the exhaustion of the day caught up to you. You felt his hand brush through your hair before clearing his throat.

“How about we go back to my trailer to sleep. I think we both need it.”

You slowly nodded as your brain caught up to his words. “Yes I think we do. Then you can take me out to dinner sometime.”

He heard him chuckle before helping stand again, “yeah. How’s tomorrow night sound?”

You smiled as you yawned and followed him out to walk to his trailer, “sounds perfect.”

Taglist: @danveration

[flippinpancakes64]

How the Cullens would react to you being a newborn

*Note* This is my first ever post please be nice :(

Edward:

Super supportive

Is so so patient

Will teach you everything he knows about self control and how to best curb your hunger

Will go hunting with you every day if that's what you want

He doesn't care if you're dangerous he wants a hug so he's getting a hug

Protective x100

If Jasper still has trouble trusting you after you've mostly gotten yourself under control he will be right there telling him to back off

10/10 would let him turn me into a newborn

Alice:

Again, supportive x100

She deals with Jasper on the daily, she knows how to help with cravings and sporadic behavior

Can easily stop you from things you shouldn't do because she can see them in the future

Would go hunting with you

Would lose her patience after a while if you keep tearing the clothes she buys you tho

(Not actually she'd just be a little frustrated :) )

Would also come to your defense if Jasper or anyone else doubts that you have yourself under control

"I can literally see the future it's fine-"

Jasper:

The worst of them all probably-

He's very tough to get to in the first place

He has a dark past, most of his trauma is from Newborns

He doesn't trust you for a really long time

Super skeptical, will follow your every move ready to hold you down

He's just trying to protect his family tho

You're gonna have to be on your best behavior if you ever want him to trust you again

He'll come around eventually though with the help of his family to show him that you're adjusting well

After he's certain you're no longer a threat he will feel so bad

Cuddles x100

He's just a big softie who loves his family behind those scary eyes

Rosalie:

Ok I lied she might be the worst actually-

If you did this to yourself or had another one of the Cullens turn you chances are she's never gonna talk to you again (sorry)

I mean we all know that she hated Bella's guts until she got pregnant with Renesmee

But if you got turned by accident or by a rogue vampire attack?

Supportive x200

Mama Bear mode activated fr

She remembers what it was like all too well

The pain, the confusion, the anger, the hatred

You couldn't do a single thing wrong in her eyes

You accidentally attacked a hiker? It happens to the best of us

You broke one of the super expensive cars by closing the door too hard? It's ok Carlisle can buy a new one

Can and will defend you if anyone says you're not ready yet

Emmett:

Kinda chill tbh

Obviously since he's the strongest he's with you most of the time to hold you back if need-be

But he's more interested in making bets against anyone who will bet with him

"I smell an elk up ahead, I bet I'll get to it before they can"

"I bet I'll win in an arm wrestling contest"

"I bet they'll scream at Edward for playing that piano too loud"

Mostly is just a good supporter

He's really observant though and is a good judge on if you're ready to be alone yet or not

Esme:

Supportive x100

She hates seeing anyone in pain and you are no exception

Will give you all the tips and tricks she can think of

How to control your cravings, the best animals to hunt, the best places to go to just scream and let it all out

She's got you covered

Wouldn't be that strong of an advocate towards you being ready tho-

She acknowledges that she is not very well versed in this field and will accept Carlisle's or Jasper's judgements very seriously

She will do her best to help you though

Carlisle:

The man for the job fr

He has raised four different newborns that he created mostly all by himself

He knows exactly what to do

How to best help you, how to make sure you feel the least pain possible, how to speed up your process

Literally anything

He's very open to answer any questions you have

If you were dying and he did this to save you he'd be perfectly okay with you wanting nothing to do with him

He understands

It will take a while to fully convince him that you are in control of your urges, but one he's convinced he is on your side 100%

Vampire! Bella:

Definitely the most sympathetic

She was the most recent change, she remembers it the most

Even though she did have her self-control on her side, she still remembers how difficult it was

Will stand by your side no matter what

She's not scared of you or what you could do

To her you're still you

Will do her best to help you with anything you need

Does her best to help give you distractions if there are people nearby

Once she believes you're ready, she will not take no for an answer

She's stubborn

Very good support tho 10/10

[wishfulsketching]

What a year, huh.

I'm not going to talk about how everything is going to shit in the real world, that's not what this post is about.

I can remember that before Gotham, I had a bit of trouble trying to get inspired about art. I did end up doing a lot of original art due to that, tho. Gotham was the nice return to a hyperfixation that got me back to creating, which felt like a saving grace tbh. I draw A LOT, you may have noticed. I thank my ADHD for that. So, when I'm unable draw I do struggle spending my time in any meaningful way.

I also started reading again this year. Murderbot Diaries got me by the throat, I love those books so much. I've also liked T. Kingfisher's books so far, haven't read that many yet, tho. I also read in english, not the translated versions, so it's a nice way to "use" my english skills.

I finally started needle felting this Christmas! I've been meaning to do it for yearsss. Bunnydog was my ever first attempt, Slowpoke was my second.

Arcane season 2. Woohee, I had totally forgotten when it was going to drop! It was a good thing tho, I was saved from a lot of painful waiting around, hah. I might've chickened out of the Zaundads fandom back in the day but it's so much more chill now. Well, kind of. I do see people complain a bit in the tags. Plus I bet it's a lot worse in other sites. ANYWAY!

I feel like that in this short time after season 2, I've gotten better at art and got my groove fully back. I am so grateful for people who just keep being so nice and support me here adsfsdfo! I said it back in 2021/2022 I think but I'll say it again: zaundads fandom has been one of the nicest fandom I've been part of. (I have to mention tho, so is riddlebird fandom)

I'm still a bit overwhelmed with all the attention I'm getting, I admit, but I am also so happy I get to share my unhinged love for this stupid little man.

My next year will start with job hunting and balancing my mental health (I've been "in recovery" for years, it's gonna be a adjustment to start working. I am still very much struggling but not as much so I have to find a job that doesn't kill me in a month lol).I've also made one new years resolution which is that I will more actively display and live my preferred identity and not just go "eh whatever, I know how I actually feel like so". Not gonna be easy because I get embarrassed about everything and will want to backpedal so hard at the start but uhhh...I'll try not to? Eh.

Yea. So a lot of new things for the next year and I already feel tired. But hopeful!

I'll end this post by randomly sharing my fave CJU gameplays because his gameplay vids always help me to relax:

I couldn't find the playlist so here's PART 2 and PART 3. I really love the story in this one.

A game I expected nothing from and now rewatch this playthrough ever so often. PLAYLIST

Love the game, love the commentary, love the vibes! PLAYLIST

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 3 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 4,350 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Two

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Three ₊˚⊹♡

The studio is buzzing with the usual pre-recording activity. You can feel the nerves in the air, though they’re not as sharp today. You’re feeling a little more confident than before, despite the lingering tension from the last few days. Today’s recording feels like it has the potential to be a breakthrough.

Before you start, you glance over at Arthur, trying to break the ice. “Oh, and thanks, Arthur, for saying I looked nice the other day,” you say with a small, light smile. It feels like a safe way to acknowledge the compliment, even if you’re still not entirely sure what to make of it.

Arthur pauses for a moment, his hand still hovering over the controls, before he looks up at you. His expression changes more than you’ve ever seen it before, his eyes were wide like he was surprised you knew. “Yeah. I did,” he replies, his voice strangely flat as he regained his composure.

You can’t quite read the tone, but you force a smile and turn back to your equipment. It wasn’t much, but it was something. At least you acknowledged it, right? But before you can feel too good about it, Arthur’s attention shifts back to what he was doing. He starts talking to everyone in his usual positive tone, that he speaks to everyone but you with.

As the recording begins, you’re hyper-aware of his proximity. He’s on the other side of the room, microphone in front of him, but the way he critiques you and no one else around him makes it impossible to fully relax. Arthur is meticulous, and every word that leaves his mouth sometimes feels a little more like criticism than direction.

“You need to hold your mic a little closer,” he tells Isaac, who’s adjusting the angle of his microphone. “It’ll pick up better sound if it’s just a bit closer to your mouth.”

Isaac nods, adjusting without a word, and you can’t help but feel that familiar weight in the air, the subtle sense that Arthur’s standards are always hovering just out of reach.

When it’s your turn to speak, you can feel his eyes on you, sharp as ever. You know the tone in his voice when he’s about to comment. “You’re rushing through that,” Arthur says, his voice cold, distant. “Try to pace yourself a bit more. It’ll sound more natural.”

You bite your lip, nodding. You were trying to get through it, trying to keep the energy up, but his feedback feels like it’s still focused more on the flaws than on the positives.

You push through the rest of the session, trying to focus on what you are doing. As much as Arthur’s distant tone stings, you know this is what he does. He’s critical, sometimes to a fault, but you’re learning to navigate it. Still, that part of you, the part that wants to be accepted and liked, can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever truly break through that wall he keeps up.

The session continues, and you remind yourself to focus. Keep your head in the game. You’re doing your job, and no matter how critical Arthur gets, you’re here to make this podcast better.

You kick off your shoes as soon as you walk into the flat, the door closing with a soft click behind you. The weight of the day is already starting to settle in, that familiar knot of frustration tightening in your chest. You toss your bag on the sofa and head straight for the kitchen, hoping a glass of water might ease your mind.

Emma’s sitting at the counter, scrolling through her phone, like usual, until she looks up when you walk in. She doesn’t have to say anything. The way you’re moving, like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, is enough of a cue.

“Long day?” she asks, after knowing her for all this time, she just kind of knows when you’re stressed.

“You have no idea,” you mutter, grabbing a glass. “Arthur is impossible to read.”

You pour yourself some water, your mind already racing through the events of the day. You can still feel Arthur’s eyes on you, the odd mix of a compliment and a coldness that follows. It’s like he can’t make up his mind whether he wants to be a complete jerk or at least acknowledge you as a person.

Emma raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything yet. She’s learned that sometimes you need to work through things out loud first.

“I swear, he’s so confusing,” you continue, leaning against the counter as you take a sip. “He complimented me yesterday, told me I looked nice, which… I don’t know, it felt like a big deal. But then he was still acting like I was doing everything wrong during the recording. And I can’t tell if he’s just being critical, or if he’s annoyed with me, or both. He literally can’t make up his mind.”

Emma’s face softens as she listens, clearly understanding where the frustration is coming from. She pushes herself off the counter, walking over to where you’re standing.

“Sounds like he’s being a classic mixed signal guy,” she says, leaning against the kitchen island. “He says something nice, and then immediately goes back to being a critic, like he doesn’t know how to handle being… well, nice. It’s like he wants to soften things but doesn’t know how.”

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “Exactly! He can’t even give a compliment without trying to backpedal, and then when he’s being critical, it feels like he’s just trying to keep me in my place. Like he can’t let his guard down for even a second.”

Emma chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, only understanding. “Sounds like he’s got some weird boundaries. Or, he’s just not used to working with someone new and doesn’t know how to handle it. Maybe he’s trying to figure out where he fits in this whole thing.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, frustrated. “Maybe. But it’s hard to figure out. Why did he even compliment me when the next day he’s acting like I can’t do anything right. I’m just trying to do my job, but it feels like I’m constantly walking on eggshells around him.”

Emma crosses her arms. “You know, it’s not your job to decode his moods. You’re there to do your job, not play therapist to a guy with mood swings. If he can’t make up his mind, that’s on him, not you.”

You let out a long breath, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease a little. “Yeah, I know you’re right. It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know if he likes me, if he respects me, or if he thinks I’m doing a terrible job. And I can’t tell if it even matters to him.”

“Of course it matters,” Emma says, “But don’t lose yourself trying to figure him out. Keep doing your thing, and if he’s too much of a dick, you don’t have to keep putting up with it. You’re there for a reason, you’re good at your job. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.”

You smile weakly, feeling a little better. It helps to vent, to have someone who gets it, even if she can’t solve the problem for you.

“Thanks, Emma,” you say, grateful for her perspective. “I think I needed that.”

“No problem,” she says with a grin. “Now, are you going to talk about how cute Isaac is, or should we just skip to the part where you obsess about Arthur some more?”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh bubbles up in your chest, easing some of the tension. “He’s literally got a girlfriend you freak. I’m going to bed before you make me spill my entire brain. But seriously, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” Emma says, giving you a quick hug. “Go get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day, and maybe Arthur will stop being a walking red flag.”

You chuckle as you walk past the kitchen, grateful for Emma’s existence. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of Arthur, the compliment, the critiques, and the confusing mix of everything in between. But for now, at least you know you can handle it. You just have to keep doing your best, no matter what mood he’s in.

You walk back into your room, still feeling the weight of the conversation with Emma pressing on you. As you shut the door behind you, you sigh, feeling the urge to just zone out for a while. A distraction. Something to take your mind off everything.

You flop onto your bed and grab your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media for a few minutes. Eventually, you end up on YouTube, opening a random video to let your brain just wander. The title is something unrelated to anything you’ve been dealing with, just a quick laugh before bed, right?

But then your thumb stops, and you freeze for a moment.

There, on the screen, is Arthur.

He’s in a group video with a few friends, laughing so easily, his voice light and genuine as he jokes around with them. You watch for a moment, surprised by how different he looks. In this video, there’s no cold distance, no rigid formality, he’s relaxed, smiling, clearly enjoying himself.

He’s even funny. You hadn’t expected that. He’s laughing so easily with his friends, making jokes and genuinely having a good time, and it stings. The image of him from the recording session earlier, barely acknowledging you except to be a dick, clashes so much with the guy in the video, it’s almost jarring.

You keep watching, biting your lip as you do, a mixture of irritation and confusion brewing in your chest. Arthur is clearly capable of being… well, human. He’s charismatic, funny, and lowkey kind of attractive. Watching him with his friends, you can see a completely different side of him, a side that feels genuine and lovely.

And that just makes you frustrated.

Why couldn’t he act like that around you? Why couldn’t he at least show you that side? Instead, he’s constantly on the defensive, as if every move you make could be the wrong one, as if he’s just waiting for you to mess up. You want to be friends with him, really. You want to break through the cold exterior he’s put up and see the person you’ve just seen on the screen.

But instead, he’s been nothing but distant, and hard to read. It’s like he’s purposely making it difficult for you to get to know him.

You pause the video, staring at the screen for a long moment, the laughter still ringing in your ears.

“God, what is your problem, Arthur?” you mutter under your breath.

Part of you wonders if it’s just a defense mechanism. Maybe he’s afraid of opening up to you because it’s easier to stay distant, easier to stay detached. Or maybe, maybe you’re just a little too eager to decode everything he does.

You shake your head, frustration still gnawing at you. Either way, it’s becoming clear, this whole relationship between you two is going to drive you mad if you don’t get some answers soon.

You move to lay on your bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. The video of Arthur laughing and having fun with his friends is still fresh in your mind. You’ve been trying to figure him out for weeks, but it’s like you’re only seeing bits and pieces, never the full picture. You can tell there’s more to him than the stiff, professional exterior he puts on at work, and for some reason, you want to know what that is.

Taking a deep breath, you type out the message.

You: Hey, Arthur. I was thinking, maybe we could hang out tomorrow? Just to get to know each other a little better outside of work?

You hesitate for a second, then hit send before you can second-guess yourself. You don’t want to overthink this, even though you’re already doing it.

The reply comes quickly, almost too quickly.

Arthur: Sure, what time?

You blink at the screen, a little taken aback by how fast he responded.

You: How about 2? Maybe grab a coffee or something?

Arthur: Sounds good. See you then.

You can’t help the small grin that tugs at the corner of your mouth. It’s not much, but it’s something. A step toward figuring him out, even if you don’t quite know what you’re expecting yet. You’re just curious, curious about the person he is when he’s not in ‘work mode.’

You’re surprised that Arthur took the coffee thing so seriously. You’ve always known ‘getting a coffee’ to just be saying but with Arthur, everything was just so literal.

You walk into the coffee shop, scanning the room for Arthur. You spot him almost immediately, sitting by the window, looking slightly out of place but calm enough, eyes on his phone. He seems to be waiting for someone but still, there’s something a little stiff about his posture, as if he’s not entirely comfortable here.

You make your way over and sit down across from him. He looks up when you approach. It’s the same reserved Arthur you’ve come to expect, but today, there was something different, like he’s trying a bit harder to make this work.

“Hey,” he says, with a slight nod, his voice a little quieter than usual.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling. “Did you get anything yet?”

“No,” he answers, still looking a little unsure, but he’s looking at you now, not his phone. “I was waiting for you.”

It’s a small thing, but it hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You smile a little, warmed by the gesture, though you try not to overthink it.

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening.

He waves it off quickly, his tone more casual now but still a little awkward. “It’s not a problem,” he says, almost like he’s trying to play it down. “You’re my boss, basically. Just trying to get on your good side.”

You smile, surprised, and chuckle a little. His dry humor is unexpected, but it lands in a way you didn’t anticipate.

“Well, thanks for that,” you reply, feeling oddly flattered despite his strange delivery. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Arthur gives a half-smile and shrugs, his gaze drifting for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. I normally wait anyway.”

You watch him for a moment, trying to get a read on him. “What do you mean?”

He shifts, clearly a little uncomfortable, but still tries to explain. “I don’t mind waiting, I guess. It’s just how I do things.”

You nod, taking it in, your mind swirling just a little. “Fair enough,” you say, still not fully sure what to make of him, but there’s something about this whole exchange that feels a bit different, maybe even a little more real.

“So,” Arthur continues, his voice dropping back into more neutral territory, “what do you like to drink?”

You tell him your usual order, casual enough, just trying to make conversion, and he nods before getting up to place his own order at the counter. You glance around, feeling a little awkward, but you don’t think much of it as he steps away.

A few minutes later, Arthur returns with not one, but two drinks, his and yours.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” you say, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Arthur places your cup down in front of you, still looking a little stiff but a little more at ease than he was when you first arrived. “It’s no big deal. Just thought I’d get it right. You know, get on the good side.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his dry delivery. “I appreciate it, though. Really.”

He shrugs, still avoiding looking at you directly, but his words come a little easier now. “Like I said, it’s no problem.”

You sip your drink, listening as Arthur talks more freely now, the conversation settling into a familiar rhythm, work talk. He’s talking about logistics for the next podcast episode, tossing around ideas, sharing his thoughts on the content. It’s comfortable in a way, but it’s also… exactly what you expected. There’s no attempt to stray from the professional, no small talk, no attempt to get to know each other beyond the scope of your roles in the podcast.

You try to keep up with the conversation, nodding along, but you can’t help the small sense of disappointment creeping in. You were hoping, maybe foolishly, that this time would be different, that you could break the surface a little, have a real conversation, maybe find some common ground outside of the work stuff.

Arthur stops talking for a moment, glancing at you. “You alright?”

You pause, caught off guard. You’ve been staring at your drink a little too long, caught in your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say quickly, shaking your head, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine.”

But Arthur’s still watching you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just…” You trail off, unsure how to put it into words. “I just thought… I don’t know.” You hesitate, then take a breath, trying to voice what you’re feeling. “I wanted to get to know you outside of the podcast. Like, just as people. Not just… the job.”

Arthur looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he shrugs, almost like it’s no big deal. “Why?”

You blink, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on you. “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be nice. You know? I want us to be friends.”

Arthur stares at you, his face going blank for a split second. The silence stretches for a moment before he responds, his tone casual, almost like he doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal.

“I thought we were.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach. He thought you were friends? This whole time, the way he’s been acting, cold, distant, sometimes outright rude, and he thinks you’re friends?

You laugh a little, though it sounds more like a nervous exhale than anything else. “Really? After everything? You think we’re friends?”

Arthur looks a little confused now, “I mean, yeah. We work together, right? I thought that’s how this works.”

You stare at him, still processing what he said. “But you’ve been… kind of a dick to me, Arthur.” The words come out before you can stop them. “I don’t feel like we’ve really been friends at all. You’ve barely said anything outside of work, and when you have, it’s mostly been… well, criticism. Not really friendly.”

Arthur goes quiet for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain through his eyes as he processes your words.

“I didn’t think it was like that,” he says slowly, his voice quieter now. “I thought you were doing your job, I was doing mine. I didn’t think there was any… tension.”

You shake your head, frustrated, though it’s not really with him anymore. “But there is, Arthur. I mean, why are we even here, having this conversation, if you think everything’s fine? You can’t just keep brushing things under the rug and expect it to be okay.”

He’s still quiet for a moment, staring at his cup, clearly thinking, and for once, you can’t quite read him at all. The conversation feels like it’s slipping away, and you’re unsure of where it’s going or if anything will change after this.

Arthur sighs, finally meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird between us.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter but still frustrated. “I just… I don’t know. I wanted to actually be friends, Arthur. I don’t want to keep doing this back-and-forth, professional stuff all the time. It’s tiring.”

Arthur shifts in his seat, his gaze softening just a little. “I get it,” he says, his voice low. “Maybe I’ve been a bit… distant. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

You let out a small breath, realising this conversation may have been more productive than you initially thought. Maybe things aren’t fixed, but at least there’s a crack in the wall between you. A small crack, but a crack nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say quietly, not sure what else to add, but feeling slightly more hopeful than you did before. “Can we be friends, Arthur?”

Arthur nods, his lips quirking just the tiniest bit into a smile. “Yeah, friends.”

You walk back to your flat, your mind still turning over the conversation you just had with Arthur. You weren’t sure what exactly changed between you two. Maybe you could work together without all the tension. Maybe you could actually be friends.

When you get to the door, you step inside and kick off your shoes, the warm familiarity of your flat greeting you. Your flatmate Emma is cooking something and she looks up when you enter.

“So,” she says, sitting up and giving you a knowing look. “How’d it go with Arthur?”

You sit down next to her, exhaling a heavy sigh, trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. “It was… good. We talked. Finally.

“Finally? You mean you didn’t talk before this?”

“Not really,” you say, letting your head fall back against the couch. “It was all just about work, you know? He’s been really distant, and I was starting to think he hated me. But today… today, we talked. Actually talked.”

Emma looks interested now, sitting down next to you. “Okay, come on. What happened?”

You tell her everything, how Arthur had been cold, distant, and how you’d been confused, frustrated, and unsure of what was going on between you. Then you mention his response when you finally opened up about wanting to be friends.

“He said he thought we were already friends,” you finish with a small laugh. “Like, what?”

Emma smiles, clearly amused. “That’s… a little messed up. But hey, at least he didn’t completely shut you down.”

You nod, a little frustrated but also kind of relieved. “Yeah, I guess. But it felt like… like there’s still a lot he doesn’t get. I don’t think he even realised how weird he was making things for me. Like, I was just supposed to understand that he was ‘being professional’ or whatever, but it still felt like he didn’t like me.”

Emma frowns slightly. “That sucks. But it sounds like he’s starting to see where you’re coming from. Maybe things will be different now?”

You’re not sure how to answer, but before you can, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, lighting up with a message from Arthur.

You pick it up, your heart giving a little lurch as you unlock the screen and read:

Arthur: I didn’t realise you felt I didn’t like you. I really enjoyed talking to you today.

You blink at the message, not sure what to think at first. The words are simple enough, but there’s something in them that makes you pause. A small, almost apologetic tone to them, like he’s realising his behavior was off.

You show Emma the message, and she grins. “Well, look at that! Sounds like someone’s trying.”

You bite your lip, feeling conflicted. “I don’t know. It’s nice, but it’s still kind of… weird, you know? Like, it’s not really a big apology. It’s just him saying he didn’t realise.”

Emma shrugs, not without some sympathy. “Well, it’s a start, right? He seems like he actually likes you. He’s at least acknowledging how you feel, even if it’s awkward.”

You nod slowly, still processing the words. “Yeah, I guess. I just wish he’d be more… upfront. Or just, you know, less weird.”

Emma snorts. “Arthur’s a work in progress. I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I hope so.”

As you think over the message again, you can’t quite tell if Arthur’s being genuine or if he’s just being polite. But either way, you appreciate that he’s acknowledging the tension. Maybe things between you two will improve.

“Thanks for listening. Again,” you say, sinking back into the sofa, feeling a little lighter. “I needed to vent.”

Emma grins, nudging you playfully. “Anytime, my friend. Just make sure you keep me updated on all this Arthur drama. Sounds like there’s more to come.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah. There probably is.”

And even though you still feel unsure about where you and Arthur are heading, there’s a small sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’re on the right path.

You stare at Arthur’s message for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. You want to respond, but part of you feels unsure. It’s one thing for him to acknowledge what’s been happening, but you’re still figuring out how to navigate this weird, in-between space you two find yourselves in.

You: Thanks, Arthur. It was nice talking to you too.

You hit send then set the phone down on the table. You’re already preparing for the awkwardness that could follow, or maybe the lack of a response. But almost immediately, your phone buzzes again.

Arthur: A medium iced latte with vanilla.

What a strange man, you thought. Why is he telling you your coffee order? Isaac has told you he was a bit weird and you’d noticed it yourself but you didn’t really know what to say.

You stare at the message for a moment. You start typing a reply, but this time, you take a breath before hitting send.

You: What do you mean?

Your phone buzzes almost immediately.

Arthur: Your drink order, I’ll buy you the same one next time we record.

You find yourself smiling as you put the phone down, feeling not just a little less anxious than before, but kind of excited.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter four

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a/n: THERE WILL BE PROGRESS I PROMISE

for my lovely commenters:

@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @picklepiastri @pretendyoucantseeme @neivivenaj

[k-s-morgan]

Hello! I just want to thank you for your work and the stories you write

Another ask: Hope you're okay

----

Hi! Thank you both so much <3

Using these asks to give a quick update: fortunately, I'm doing much better these days! I started getting a lot of offers from different companies, to the point where I had to turn quite a few down. I had to make a difficult decision as to whether I want to keep being a freelancer or settle into a full-time job with a set schedule. After lots of struggling, I settled on the former. I don't do well with schedules like this, I really appreciate my freedom to build my day the way I want to, especially at the time when bombings might keep me awake all night. Hopefully, I have enough employers now to stay afloat.

I've been very busy due to this: making serious decisions, checking how my new companies treat me, adjusting to the pressure of taking too many projects at once to compensate for the time I spent looking for a job this month, etc.

Now things are clearing up. I've made some writing progress, and I really want to get to all the wonderful, interesting asks I got as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it today! In Ukraine, a New Year is a bigger holiday, so I plan to post snippets from each of my active stories by then as a reward for myself and as a thank you to you for all the support you've been giving me.

[stellarbit]

Tech's Calculations

This edges on NSFW, but only slightly. Lots of tension though 1.5k words

You and Tech find yourselves alone on the Marauder. Little do you know Tech has been playing you like a fiddle.

I'm fixated on these men and probably going to be popping out little drabbles while I crawl out of my skin waiting for a new episode. Tech is my main man so he gets the first spotlight. Enjoyyyy

After the Batchers made a jealous fuss about your ties with the 501st legion, you honestly didn’t expect much to change. At most you’d continue to gradually get closer.

That was not the case.

Whatever illusion you had of their physical boundaries vanished within a rotation. How you overlooked their constant intrusion of each other’s personal space, you’d never know. Wrecker tended towards ‘love taps,’ if you could even call them that with how hard he hit. Hunter started herding you around with his hands whenever he deemed necessary. Crosshair maintained the most distance, but his getting in your space for teasing snide remarks was on the rise. Out of all of them, Echo changed the least.

You knew Echo the longest, credited to your shared history with the 501st, and were the most at ease with. He felt more brotherly than the others and made a habit of being the one to tend your wounds or adjust armor you couldn’t reach. 

The most changed with Tech. At least on your part. His straightforward approach to things had him moving on impulse. He always pushed you out of the way or reached over you to grab something or make adjustments, his focus more on the task at hand than personal space. On occasion he fully leaned over you, hand on one shoulder and draped over your other to move for you. It happened once when you failed to activate a safety device while piloting. Another time as you were tweaking your blaster in an ‘ill advised and inefficient manner’ as Tech put it. And, most often, as you played dejarik.

Generally, you managed to keep your cool when the boys got in your space. It proved more difficult with Tech. With his observational skills it didn’t go unnoticed.

Tech noticed changes. He was fixated from your initial, and colorful, reaction to his touch. He found himself instigating you, seeing what interactions elicited what physical reactions to you. While reaching over you to activate the Marauder’s safety device, he purposely pressed into you to see your behavioral and physiological reactions up close.

Tech took note of the absent blush, the momentary hitch in your breathing, and, most interestingly, the way your legs squeezed together. Each time, he found himself struggling to suppress the urge to use his hands to provoke even more reactions, torn between his growing attraction and his analytical restraint. 

Between missions, and especially when you were bunked directly across from him in the Marauder, he found himself replaying those little moments and wondering what was next to test.

The perfect opportunity came when a section of your armor’s thigh plate cracked off. Echo, Hunter, and Wrecker were off ship wrapping up your current mission. Leaving you and Tech to prep Marauder and prepare for any emergency pick ups.

Your thigh plate wasn’t just chipped; it had bent inwards and stubbornly refused release. As someone who had taken to armor begrudgingly after joining the Batch, you despised every moment spent in it. Being a Jedi trained in cloth, the weight and restriction of armor grated on your nerves.

“Dank farik!” You hissed as you lost purchase on the thigh plate once more.

Echo was nowhere to assist, allowing Tech his chance.

“At the angle it is bent, the anchoring device will need to be disassembled in order to remove your plate,” he stated matter-of-factly, wasting no time in gathering the necessary tools for the job. “An easy and swift task for me.” From the corner of his eye he caught you defeatedly drop your head

Perched on the lowest cot, you sat with your elbows resting on your knees, leaving just enough space for Tech to maneuver between them. As he slid into the gap, your legs instinctively attempted to close, inadvertently squeezing around Tech's torso. You let out a nervous laugh, "Didn’t mean to crush you there, sorry."

Recognizing the need for caution, Tech responded calmly, "Your thighs are not capable of exerting enough force to crush me. I am fine." He met your gaze, his expression conveying both reassurance and a hint of uncertainty. "Close contact is necessary for me to access the anchoring device. Please inform me if you feel uncomfortable, and I will cease immediately." Despite his eagerness to proceed, Tech prioritized your comfort above all else, silently hoping for your consent to continue.

You blinked at him once, then twice, before closing your eyes and letting your head fall back. “Do what you need to do. Just get this thing off of me.” Your nonchalant response took Tech by surprise, unexpected based on your previous reactions to him.

With your eyes still closed, you leaned back against the cot, almost as if basking in the sun. Tech cautiously slid his gloved hand up your thigh plate, keenly observing for any sign of discomfort or hesitation from you. His thumb grazed your inner thigh, a touch that unexpectedly jolted you back to attention. Tech quickly averted his gaze back to the task at hand, pretending not to notice your reaction.

Pressing his thumb into your thigh to gain better access to the jammed anchor, Tech meticulously worked on dismantling the piece. As his thumb smoothed over your thigh, gradually moving higher, you couldn't help but twitch involuntarily. Sensing your reaction, Tech glanced up, adjusting his thumb ever so slightly. “Are you alright?” he inquired, noting the pink splotches creeping up your throat.

You sat up a little more, really looking at Tech and taking in the sight of him between your legs. Between your legs with a finger inches from the apex of your thighs. Watching a second longer, a thought occurred to you. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s doing it on purpose.

Deciding to play along, you flashed him a reassuring smile. “Sure am.” You hummed, spreading your legs slightly wider. “All yours, Tech.” He didn’t continue immediately, but kept his eyes on you. You pushed a little more. “Unless you’re stuck on what to do next.”

Tech didn’t break eye contact as he lowered the spanner and pressed his thumb into your thigh once more. His action elicited a new reaction from you—you bit your lip. “I apologize if that is sensitive,” Tech said, his voice laced with more amusement than usual, as he continued his work.

Tech's gaze remained fixated on you, carefully noting every detail of the interaction. With a calculated ease, he maneuvered his hand between your thigh and the armor, deftly releasing the plate. As his hand flattened against your leg, he proceeded methodically, sliding his hand down inch by inch to slide the thigh plate off.

Even after the task was completed, Tech lingered, his hands remaining in place. There was a brief pause between you two until you brought your legs back together to close in on him.

"Is this how Echo typically removes your armor?" Tech inquired in a low breath.

You managed a breathy, "No."

In response, Tech adjusted his grip, his lower hand now circling to the back of your thigh while the other lightly gripped your inner thigh. A shiver ran through you, accompanied by a soft sound escaping your lips.

"Is this how you typically react to Echo touching you?" Tech's asked more confidently than before..

You leaned in closer, meeting his gaze. "What is your hypothesis?"

"I haven't observed you and Echo in such a position," Tech admitted. "Thus, I don't have enough factual data to accurately hypothesize. But my hope is that no, you do not. I think I'd like to be the only one you react to in this way."

An ache bloomed between your legs, just above his fingers. Your hips rock forward just enough that his teasing touch brushed onto your aching bits.

“Tech,” Hunter’s voice broke the silence but still neither of you moved. Tech’s hand remained in place. “Is the ship ready to go? We are inbound and ready to get off this force forsaken planet.

Before Tech moved his hand, you leaned forward to activate the comm for him and bring your face within inches of his.

“Everything is in order.” A subtle crack in Tech’s usually composed demeanor was evident as he responded, “Ready when you are.”

You released the comm at the same time Tech pressed his hand into you and you hissed at the sweet pressure. His eyes widened slightly and in an awe struck voice he said, “Fascinating.” With that he pulled away and stood, leaving you aching even more.

“It would not be ideal to be discovered in this position.” He extended a hand to help you stand. “Although, I look forward to finding myself in such a position in the near future.”

You accepted his hand, but as he assisted you to your feet, you couldn't resist pulling him closer. “All this time, I thought you were oblivious.”

Tech rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement dancing through them. “Obliviousness is not a characteristic I possess,” he countered, his gaze unwavering. “Every action I take is deliberate.”

“Noted.” You reached up and quickly pinched his cheek. “For the record, I too look forward to finding you in such a position in the near future.”

[rosazoldyckk]

𐬾𐬽Life with the Zoldyck family HC’s𐬾𐬽

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi X Kidnapped!Reader. Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Genre: fluff?? Idk tbh. TW’s: mentioning of kidnapping, manipulation, violence and possessive nature. And Illumi.

Disclaimer: I posted this on my last tumblr account but it got deleted and I can’t get it back. So it will be posted here😅 this post got a lot of attention on my last account so if this post is recognised from anyone then I want to say this hasn’t been stolen and is my original work <3

684 words

Living with the Zoldyck family is scary..... and strange.

There was fear and the constant paranoia that you were going to die—either in the hands of Illumi himself or a member of his family, you didn't know which.

However, you have nothing to fear, Illumi, in his weird and creepy way, always finds a way to reassure you that as long as you love him (and only him) you have nothing to worry about!

Of course, it takes sometime to get used to the sinister and grim place—along with the unerving, and dark, humor some of the family members have. *cough* Milluki *cough*

Illumi, as well as the rest of the Zoldyck family, are well prepared to deal with your timid and skittish personality. 

Anything assassin related is kept to a low (demanded by Illumi) and you won't be exposed to any Nen until he feels as though you won't faint at the sight.

Surprisly, Illumi isn't as mean or harsh to you...but don't let that fool you. He is, without a doubt, a manipulator. The dark male could go two ways on how he treats you as you adjust to your new life.

Be submissive and accepting your fate will earn you more freedom (ie allowing you to accompany him and his family to social gatherings and being shown to the public. Heck, you might even be allowed to come along and watch him do is job, fun right?).

 Be difficult and distant...he will have his fun breaking you. You will be chained to him (literally) with no free will whatsoever.

  If you need to pee, he has to permit it. Oh? You're hungry? That's too bad! He's stuffed from dinner (in which you had to watch). Exhausted, my dear? Maybe you shouldn't have been a brat and you could sleep.

It depends on how you take it, but, eventually, you will start to love the male and he will bask in it.

Silvia and Zeno absolutely adore you. Zeno finding your "love story" with Illumi to be romantic as their parents and Silvia being glad that his eldest son has found a 'submissive' keeper. (Not like Illumi will ever let you go)

Kikyo however is pretty hard to get along with but she'll never seem to understand that. If she considers you an outsider still, then she is very cold and standoffish.

She'll even go as far as to try to chase you away with physical and verbal attacks. (Until Silvia intervenes at least)

It will become worse if she decides to treat you like family, she is very possessive of her children. So once she considers you good luck, contrats you have one protective and doting fan.

She will be a bit borderline creepy but hey that just means she likes you

Other than that, You get along with almost everyone in the house

almost everyone.

Milluki has a problem with you. 

Whether it's because he doesn't find you worthy of the Zoldycks' name or because he can't stand how caring and soft looking you are.

Maybe, it's because he has his own crush on you? 

Or perhaps he's upset because he can't play with the new toy? Either way, he finds you a useless nuisance and will make things difficult for you to adjust.

Mulling over the idea of Milluki having a crush on you, I can see him being a bit of a voyeur.

 Watching you and Illumi when you both indulge in sexual activities and sneaking peeks at you as you bath or sleep. 

He's jealous of his older brother and will eventually challenge him to a fight over you (of course that only happens when he manages to get close to you, which once again will be impossible). 

(And lets be honest would he really win against Illumi? I doubt it. But I bet it would be funny to see him fight haha)

All in all, living with the Zoldyck family is without a doubt overbearing and scary. But, be a good girl/boy and play along with Illumi and all will go smoothly. You will gain the families upmost respect and be treated like a member, and Illumi will treat you with the highest respect.

But be difficult and refuse to comply will only lead you with heartache and misery. Illumi won't hesitate to stick a couple needles into your head until you behave.

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Arkham!Two Face x Fem!Reader word count: 750 a/n: oh what i would not give to sit down on harvey's lap and adjust myself around him, it might cure me cw: semi-public sex, covert sex in front of others, piv, kinda cockwarming 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

You shuffled yourself on Harvey's lap, finding your balance as his hands curved around your hips and smoothed over your skirt, flattening the fabric against your sides and your thighs. Every movement you made had it riding up, threatening to expose you, and him, as he spoke to his staff.

In front of his desk, four men stood listening to his instructions, Harvey laying out their tasks for the evening, the plans for the heist, one simple enough that he wouldn't have to along. He was far too busy, with you obviously. And his men nodded, understanding, concentrating, taking everything in as they stood nervously in front of him.

Behind the desk, you were seated on his lap, legs on either side of his thighs. To most people, it would have seemed like a statement, of putting his love and affection on display, of showing you off. It could be read as a weakness, one that he didn't care about, letting everyone know how deeply he adored you, that he needed you with him, next to him, on him, at any given moment.

In truth, it was a game. A dirty little secret. One he enjoyed pushing you to the edge with.

You had to keep quiet, his status depended on him being taken seriously.

So you couldn't make a noise, not even as his cock twitched inside of you. His thick, stiff length throbbing against your walls as he subtly shifted his hips, wiggling you around, caressing the sides of your cunt as his fingers traced over the skin of your thighs.

No one knew. No one could see. You hoped no one could tell. But you understood the excitement that Harvey found in peeling off your panties just before calling his men through the door, pressing them to his face as he inhaled, then stuffing them into the front pocket of his suit jacket, a little bit of the fabric, lacy or silk or frilled, poking out as a hint to your secretive, but very public, activities.

"Where do you want us to go afterwards, boss? The safe house is still filled with the trucks from last night's take. We ain't been able to unload it yet."

"Fuck."

Harvey's whole body reacted to the news, the jam that meant he'd have to rethink everything. You let out a whimper as he moved, jutting his hips up, the tip of his cock deeper in you than before, thudding into your g-spot with little care. Luckily, you had bit down on your lip, stifling some of the sound. But not enough that it was entirely unnoticeable. As the men in the room began to look at the floor, uncertain of what they'd heard and desperately trying to pretend they hadn't heard anything at all, Harvey saved everyone the embarrassment and told them to leave.

But as relief set in for you, he spoke once more.

"Don't go anywhere though. Stay right outside that door. I just have to do some thinking... clear my head. Then I'll tell you what we're gonna do."

They got to leave, but you didn't. And neither would you have wanted to. It was your job, not to sit there and look pretty, but to give him something to squeeze, to hold, to take his stress out on.

From behind you, fingers trailing along your neck, Harvey's hand found your cheek, his thumb catching your bottom lip and pulling it down, a low growl emanating from his throat when you whined, a pleading mewl for him to keep going. Finally, after an hour of sitting on his lap, his cock soaking inside you as your arousal spread over his pants, he was finally giving you a little more.

Leaning your head back, he caught you in a clumsy kiss, his lips only reaching the corner of your mouth, tongue prodding out either way to lap at your skin, his free hand gripping your waist as he began to roll his hips and arch his back, pushing his cock into you.

As the friction of his length stroking against your walls soothed him, Harvey started to grunt, aggressive sounds harmonising with the soft moans and words of praise he spoke to you, all of them softening, silenced as your fingers fell onto his lips.

“Harvey… they’re just outside. They’ll hear…”

“As if they didn’t know anyway.”

You were sure they hadn’t, but it was impossible to argue with him. Especially when you were unable to form any words other than ‘please’ and ‘more’.

[apathetic-revenant]

uh...hi?

[head pokes around corner]

so...

I've been back to scrolling around on tumblr for a bit now, and have been really wanting to get back to actually, y'know. being here. posting. not just sort of hanging here invisibly like a mournful ghost, observing but never interacting. that sort of thing. (revenants, after all, are supposed to be corporeal undead.)

but I really wanted to explain why I just kind of abruptly vanished in the first place. no one demanded this of me, but it felt like something I had to do. and then, in the typical way of self-imposed obstacles, it became a massive stumbling block. partly because of the nerves and emotions attached to it, sure, but mostly, tbh, because it was a Task. I recently (about 3 weeks ago now?) started seeing a new psychiatrist and got an adjustment to my ADHD meds which basically made my brain boot up again for the first time in way too long. this is great! but it means I am having to kind of slowly rehab my brain into getting used to doing Literally Anything again, one small step at a time. I am not being hyperbolic when I say I had to gradually build up my executive functioning for a while just to be able to write a tumblr post.

but fuck it! I really wanted to just do this already. so, while I'm sure I'll talk about all this in more detail later, for right now I'm gonna strip this down to the bare essentials just so I can get it done at all.

here's what happened:

in 2020 I had a sudden onset of extremely severe OCD.

no, not about the pandemic, actually. yeah I was anxious about the pandemic but it was a pretty normal level of anxiety for a global pandemic, honestly. my OCD took the form of scrupulosity--essentially, an obsessive worry about being a bad person.

tumblr is....not a GREAT place to be if you have a sudden obsessive fear of being a bad person.

now, to be clear: tumblr did not CAUSE my OCD, and leaving tumblr did not cure it. that's just not how OCD works. later on, I learned that atypical antipsychotics--one of which I had been prescribed around that time, for depression--have been known to cause OCD. is there any way to prove that that's what happened? probably not, at this point! so I've just been kind of sitting with that terrible knowledge for a while.

anyway. I would've had OCD anyway, but reading a regular stream of posts going "hey, here's a really terrible thing you might be doing! you might even be doing it without knowing it! you need to think really hard and be constantly vigilant all the time for any sign that you might be doing this thing!" was basically pouring gasoline on the fire.

I never made an active decision to leave tumblr--if I had I would've said something first. I just kind of thought "god, I can't do this right now" one day and didn't open the app, which turned into days and then weeks and then months, and still things weren't getting better.

it's hard to express exactly how harrowing that whole experience was. actually I just started thinking about it and realized I would never finish this post tonight if I tried to get into it just now. so I won't. let's just say: It Was Bad.

but, by an astronomical stroke of luck, I ended up getting referred to not just an OCD therapist, not just the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid, but the only OCD therapist in the state who took Medicaid and also she was really good at her job. I genuinely think that woman saved my life.

OCD therapy is one of those "the only way out is through" kind of things. it's brutal and also quite surreal, but it has a high success rate and is very effective. OCD is not a thing that you can cure, per se, but it went from completely dominating every waking moment of my life to being something that I occasionally have to yell at in much the same way as when the cat starts knocking things off my desk at 3 in the morning.

but, the thing was, it took a year-and-a-bit before my therapist and I agreed that I had probably "graduated" as she put it. so, by the time I felt able to go back on tumblr without my brain catching on fire again, it had been so long that I didn't know how to do it. I felt like I'd pulled a major dick move by just dropping off without saying anything. I still thought about it (usually late at night, at Time To Think About Every Regret I've Ever Had O'Clock) but my brain very easily goes to a place of "well, no one would really notice or care that I was gone, and if they did they'd be mad at me for having left."

well. earlier this year I started on the road to getting past that idea. shoutout to @fordtato for helping with that, btw.

but it took me a while to work up the courage and then, as previously mentioned, even longer to work up the neurotransmitters.

I think I gotta wrap this up for now cause I don't have much concentration juice left. but, for what it's worth: I had a lot of emotions, coming back and seeing the names of people I used to talk to all the time. I don't know how you feel about me anymore, but I really missed yall. I would like to talk to you again.