#is that it's probably the ONE thing that you can start doing for yourself for VERY little investment

[ggukivrse]

the art of pretending – jjk | 02

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol consumption, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 4.9k

notes: i dunno how to feel about this chapter, but at least it’s something for you guys loll. also if you can’t tell, i’m horrible with pacing so if it feels like too much of a fast burn i’m so sorry 😖 feedback, likes, comments, reblogs and asks are so so appreciated. enjoy reading my angels <3

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⤷ chapter two — broken cd

don’t think i’m over it / like i always said i was / like a broken cd / that plays on repeat

You shove the key into the door and twist hard, your shoulder still sore from hauling your overloaded backpack up the stairs. It's just one floor, but with the way the straps dug into your skin and your pride refused to let Jungkook help, it might as well have been Everest.

The door creaks open, hinges sticking slightly before giving way.

Amber light spills into the room — warm and rich, the kind of sunset that makes everything look softer than it is. The windows are massive, the glass thrown open to the breeze and the sound of waves crashing in the distance. You turn around to look out the door from the foot of your bed, and from here, you can see the ocean glowing gold under the falling sun, lazy and endless.

It smells like salt and clean sheets and something faintly citrus, probably the resort’s idea of a luxury air freshener.

And right in the middle of the room, unmissable and offensively neat, is one bed.

One.

You don’t even pretend to hide your sigh. “Great,” you mutter, dropping your backpack with a heavy thud. “A single bed. Very romantic.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What, you suddenly shy?” He brushes past, setting his duffel bag down with way less drama than you did. “I’ve literally been inside you. You’ll survive.”

You don’t laugh.

You don’t even look at him.

Instead, you stare at the bed. At the way the light hits the perfectly smooth duvet. At the two pillows, side by side. Like it was made for a couple. Like it was made for you and him.

He notices your silence, eventually.

“Too far?” he asks, voice low.

You shrug. “Just wasn’t that funny.”

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just shifts his weight and runs a hand through his hair like he’s suddenly remembered this whole thing is supposed to be an act. That you’re not really his anymore.

And maybe that’s what stings — the anymore.

You sit on the edge of the bed, bouncing once. It’s too soft. Too quiet. Too intimate.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His jaw’s tight. He’s not looking at you.

There was a time you thought you’d marry him. That you were going to. You’d even gotten your nails done that week, like a fucking idiot.

You blink hard and look away before that memory can settle in your chest like it always does. Instead, you clear your throat and force yourself to speak like you’re not sitting inside the echo of what used to be.

“I’ll take the left side,” you say, voice flat.

Jungkook doesn’t even pause. “I figured.”

Of course he did. He always remembers.

You glance at the bed for a beat longer, then push yourself back up and move toward the window. The floorboards creak slightly under your steps, but the rest of the room stays still.

Outside, the sun is sinking lower, streaking the sky with deep amber and dusky pink. You fold your arms across your chest as the breeze brushes against your skin, cooling the leftover heat from the hike up the stairs.

You can hear muffled laughter from a nearby cabin — familiar voices, the clink of bottles. It’s already starting. The unwinding. The pretending. And you're still up here, wondering how the hell this is going to work.

“We should figure out how we’re doing this,” Jungkook says behind you.

You don’t look at him. “You want to map out how to play house again like it’s some group project?”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds. “I just think... if we’re doing this, we should at least figure out the basics.”

You scoff under your breath. “Basics. Right.”

As if you haven’t already been there. Like you didn’t build the foundation, the walls, the goddamn roof of your relationship from scratch with him, only to watch him walk out before it could become a home.

He shifts again, and you hear the slight squeak of the mattress as he adjusts his weight on the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t want to be doing this,” he says softly. “But no killing me in my sleep, okay?”

You finally turn to look at him. “I can’t make any promises.”

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. But not quite. “Yeah. Fair.”

You don’t say anything to that. You just watch him — how he can’t seem to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds. How his fingers keep twitching like he wants to be doing something with them.

He used to always touch you when he got like this. Knee against yours, hand slipping into your hair, thumb brushing your wrist. It’s weird seeing all that nervous energy go nowhere now.

“Look,” he says eventually, “if it helps, we don’t have to be over the top with it. Just enough to get by.”

You nod, slow and tense. “Keep it casual. Minimal.”

He hesitates, like he’s weighing something. “Right. But… you know they’ll expect us to—”

“No,” you cut in, voice sharp.

“They’ll notice if we don’t.”

“They’ll survive.”

“You’re saying Seokjin’s going to see us not kiss once this entire trip and just let that slide?”

You roll your eyes. “We’ve been together for years. Couples evolve. Maybe we’re just in our chill phase.”

That earns you another ghost of a smile. “We were never chill.”

He’s not wrong.

You were the couple everyone either envied or got annoyed by. Loud in your love. Touchy. Constantly wrapped up in each other like you didn’t know how not to be. There was never anything subtle about the way you felt for him.

You stare at the floor for a second. “I’m not kissing you.”

“Ouch," he mumbles, placing a hand over his heart.

You bite back a smile.

When Jungkook speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I just meant... if it happens, don’t freak out. That’s all.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why would it happen?”

He shrugs one shoulder, looking like he regrets bringing it up at all. “I don’t know. Habit?”

That word lands heavier than it should.

You study him for a moment. He’s not cocky. Not smirking like he used to when he’d tease you. He looks unsure, almost guilty. Like he knows he has no right to even suggest that kissing you is something that could still come naturally. Maybe it could. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Fine,” you mutter. “If it happens. And that’s a big if.”

His gaze flicks up. “Understood.”

You sit on the edge of the bed again, leaning back on your hands. Your head tilts back and your gaze reaches the ceiling. The fan above spins lazily, the blades catching a sliver of orange light every time they pass. It’s quiet enough to hear the wind outside, the occasional gust rustling the palm leaves.

“I’ll sleep on top of the covers,” Jungkook says suddenly. “Or on the floor, if that makes it less weird.”

You glance over at him. “Don’t be dramatic. I’m not actually gonna set you on fire.”

His mouth quirks. “Good to know.”

You pause. "Maybe."

Jungkook snorts under his breath, and for a second, it almost feels like nothing's changed. Like you're still in some random hotel room on a trip together, teasing and bickering until one of you caves and kisses the other just to shut them up.

But then there's a knock — two quick raps — and before either of you can answer, the door creaks open and Taehyung’s head pokes in.

He scans the room, eyes landing on the bed, then on you and Jungkook sitting a little too far apart to look like people who are supposedly in love. If he notices, he doesn’t comment.

“We're having dinner soon," Taehyung says, leaning against the doorframe. "Seokjin and Yoongi are already cooking. Told me to drag your asses down if you’re not there in ten."

You blink. “Already?”

"We only have a week. Might as well make the most of it," he replies with a shrug.

“We'll be there in a sec,” Jungkook says.

“Cool, but not too long," Taehyung warns, stepping back into the hall. "“Fuck each other later— I'm starving and I'm not waiting for you guys.”

And just like that, he’s gone again, the sound of his flip-flops slapping against the stairs as he yells something incoherent at Seokjin.

You both sit there for a second too long after Taehyung leaves.

Jungkook exhales slowly. “Well. That wasn’t weird at all.”

You glance at him. “He’s going to keep making jokes like that all week.”

“Oh, for sure.” He stands, stretches his arms overhead until his shirt rides up just enough to expose a sliver of skin, then drops them with a sigh. “We should head down before someone sends a search party.”

You don’t move right away. You watch him instead — the way he fiddles with his silver ring, the one you bought him for your two-year anniversary. He still wears it. You wish that didn’t mean anything, but your chest feels heavier every time you see it catch the light.

“Hey,” he says, noticing your stare. “You okay?”

You blink once. “Fine.” It’s a lie. You think he knows it, but he doesn’t push.

When you finally leave the room after spending twenty minutes freshening up, the house is buzzing. You can hear it before you even hit the stairs — the low hum of conversation, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, laughter spilling through the hallways like sunlight through a cracked door.

The stairway smells like something good — grilled meat, maybe, and butter, and garlic — warm and rich and heavy enough to make your stomach twist. It’s a nice smell, a homey smell, the kind you’d associate with nights that end in full stomachs and sore cheeks from smiling too much.

You trail your fingers lightly against the wood of the banister as you go down, Jungkook a step behind you.

The main room opens up all at once when you reach the bottom — wide and airy, with big windows cracked open to let in the evening breeze. The kitchen bleeds straight into the dining area with no walls to separate them, just an island cluttered with drinks, half-unpacked groceries, and a giant speaker playing a playlist you’re pretty sure Kiara made.

The dining table is already half set, chairs scattered around it in the kind of casual, lived-in chaos that happens when twelve people try to organise themselves without a plan.

Bowls of chips, salad, and what looks like some kind of pasta are already on the table, half-covered with napkins to keep flies away. A basket of bread sits at one end, slightly squashed.

In the kitchen, Ari is perched on the counter, laughing at something Yoongi mutters as he chops a mountain of vegetables with terrifying precision. Seokjin stands at the stove, wielding a pair of tongs like a sword, flipping something in a pan with unnecessary flair.

"You two are late," Seokjin calls without turning around. "We almost started without you."

Ari shoots you a grin over her shoulder. "We figured you were busy... catching up."

You force a tight smile and Jungkook just huffs out a quiet laugh behind you, the sound brushing too close to the back of your neck.

There’s a low murmur of greetings as you and Jungkook make your way further inside — Namjoon waving a pair of tongs wildly in the air, Haeun tossing you a quick smile from where she's helping Jimin set out forks and plates.

You glance around for empty seats with a soft sigh.

There are two left. Right next to each other, tucked into the middle of the table, right between Kiara and Taehyung.

Perfect.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, both of you registering the same inevitability. No words are exchanged — just a small, tired lift of your eyebrows and the smallest twitch of his mouth.

You move first, weaving through the scattered chairs and half-drunk glasses to get to your seat. The scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor feels unnaturally loud as you pull it out. You sit down carefully, pressing your thighs together, your palms flat against the tops of them under the table.

Jungkook slips into the chair beside you without hesitation. You can feel the heat of his body even through the space between you, the almost-touch of his arm resting on the table next to yours.

You stare straight ahead for a second — at the bowls of food, the condensation slipping down plastic cups, the crumpled paper towels that someone had already dropped on the table — and will yourself to breathe normally.

You can do this.

You have to do this.

For Seokjin and Haeun's sake. For everybody’s sake.

It isn’t long until all the food is set and everyone’s squeezed around the table, shoulder to shoulder, the energy a little loud and a little messy.

Plates are passed down, people piling food high with zero shame. Forks clatter, someone pops open another drink too close to Namjoon’s elbow, and Haeun lets out a squeal when soda almost spills across the table.

The conversations starts light — the usual catching up.

"I can’t believe you’re actually doing it," Kiara says, pointing her fork at Namjoon across the table. "Moving across the country?"

Namjoon chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Scary, right?"

Ari beams at him, reaching over to squeeze his hand briefly. "It's exciting. We’re ready."

"You’re insane," Yoongi deadpans. "But good for you."

"You’re just mad no one's trapped you yet," Seokjin says, dodging a grape Yoongi flicks at him.

You laugh, the sound almost surprising yourself with how normal it feels.

Someone brings up Hoseok, and Kiara sets her drink down with a soft clink, letting out a heavy sigh.

"His boss is a total asshole," she says, shaking her head. "Tried to tell him he couldn't take time off— even though he put in the request, like, six months ago."

There's a murmur of annoyance around the table.

Kiara rolls her eyes. "He’s still coming though. Driving down early tomorrow."

The conversation rolls on easily — Jimin complaining about the same landlord he's been cursing out ever since he moved out from the dorms on campus, Haeun sharing a horror story from her latest shift at the hospital, Taehyung and Yasmine excitedly telling everyone their plans of visiting Paris at the end of the year.

You find yourself relaxing in tiny increments, the night smoothing the edges of everything sharp inside you.

Still, every few minutes, a question sneaks your way. Directed at both you and Jungkook. Casual. Friendly. A little too curious.

"So, when’s the next trip?" Yasmine asks, her chin propped in her hand, a lazy grin on her face.

You freeze for a second — just a second — but it’s enough; enough for your brain to scramble, for your heart to lurch into your throat.

You open your mouth to answer at the exact moment Jungkook does.

"Hopefully soon—"

"Maybe end of the year—"

You both stop, the words tripping over each other in the thick summer air. A tiny beat of silence hangs between you, awkward and heavy.

Jungkook clears his throat softly. You let out a small laugh, too tight around the edges to sound natural, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear even though it doesn’t need fixing.

"Uh— soon, hopefully," you say, forcing a smile, trying to smooth it over like it’s no big deal. Like your whole chest isn’t clenching painfully.

"Yeah," Jungkook adds, recovering fast, his voice easy. He stabs a piece of grilled chicken from his plate and pops it into his mouth like it's nothing

If anyone notices the tension simmering between you, they don’t say anything. You hope it’s because everyone’s too buzzed on good food and easy conversation, and not because they feel the awkwardness thick in the air and don’t know how to cut through it.

You’re just starting to feel relieved, letting yourself believe you might get through dinner unnoticed when Taehyung turns toward Jungkook halfway through the meal, nudging him with his shoulder. "Hey, I meant to ask you about—"

He stops mid-sentence.

His gaze flickers downward, quick, almost unnoticeable. Down to your hand resting by your plate.

You don’t catch it, too busy trying to butter a piece of bread without it crumbling to pieces in your hands, but Jungkook does, and you feel his body stiffen for half a second beside you.

Then, smoothly, he jumps in. "—about that new game drop next month. You getting it?"

Taehyung blinks, like he’s catching up to the new topic, then grins wide. "Obviously. I plan on absolutely destroying you."

"You say that every time," Jungkook shoots back, and just like that, the moment’s gone.

Buried under another wave of laughter and teasing.

You and Jungkook mostly stay quiet. You smile when you’re supposed to. You laugh when you have to.

You play your part.

And through it all, under the steady hum of old jokes and new memories being made, Jungkook’s knee shifts ever so slightly to rest against yours under the table.

You fight the urge to move away.

The beach is quiet this late, lit only by the faint glow of the moon and the scattered dots of stars overhead. The sky stretches wide and clear, not a cloud in sight, just a deep navy canvas freckled with light. The waves roll in steadily, calm and even, and the sand is cool now beneath your feet, the heat of the day finally burned off.

It had been Seokjin’s idea to head down after dinner, grabbing drinks for everyone before they could protest. Something about making the most of the night, getting “full value” out of the resort. No one argued. Within minutes, you were all slipping out of shoes and wandering down to the shore, half-full cups in hand, the buzz of dinner still clinging to the air.

Now, everyone’s scattered in loose clusters — some sitting in the sand, others walking along the edge of the water.

You hug your knees to your chest and rest your chin on top of them, eyes fixed on the tide as it pulls in and out, in and out. The repetition is comforting. Predictable. It drowns out the conversations happening around you — Taehyung trying to convince Yasmine to go in past her knees, Jimin narrating an elaborate story to Yoongi and Kiara.

Every now and then, someone laughs too loud, a bottle cap is flicked into the sand, or a sudden breeze sends someone scrambling to catch a napkin mid-air. It all blends together in the background, easy to tune out.

Jungkook is sitting a few feet to your right, legs stretched out in front of him, hands planted in the sand behind him for support. His head is tilted slightly up toward the sky like he’s trying to map constellations, or maybe just avoid looking at anything too real. He hasn’t said anything since you all got down here.

Neither have you. Not to each other, at least.

He shifts once, brushing some sand off his arm. His elbow knocks lightly into yours before he moves it away again without comment.

You don’t react.

Eventually, the group starts thinning. Namjoon stands up first, brushing sand off his jeans and helping Ari to her feet with that soft little smile he seems to save just for her. Yoongi follows soon after, muttering something about not waking up early tomorrow and Jimin follows.

The casual exits happen slowly, naturally, like everyone’s easing out of the night one moment at a time. No dramatic goodbyes, no announcements. Just people disappearing in twos and threes.

You stay put, your eyes still trained on the ocean. There’s something about the way the water moves that holds you there, like letting go of it too soon would mean snapping back into the real world — and you’re not ready for that yet. The sound of the waves fills in all the parts of your head that have been too loud lately.

You hear Jungkook shift beside you again, this time to sit up straighter. He doesn’t stand. Doesn’t move away either.

A few beats pass in silence.

Then, he speaks. Quietly.

“So…” he starts, voice careful. “How’ve you been?”

You don’t look at him. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he says, and you can practically hear the awkward smile in his voice. “You always were a world-class oversharer.”

You glance over just enough to shoot him a look. “Do you want an essay or a lie?”

He huffs a laugh. “I’ll take a haiku.”

“Too bad. You get monosyllables.”

You hear the faint clink of his bracelet as he scratches the back of his neck. He lets the silence stretch between you, and you finally give in.

“Everything's been busy, I guess,” you say. “I’ve been prepping for a bunch of interviews and final stuff. The application season was a mess.”

“That’s good.”

You shrug. “It’s something.”

Another pause. This one hangs heavier. You know what he’s trying to do — pull you back into something like familiarity. The effort is obvious. It makes you tired.

Still, part of you — the small, irritating part that hasn’t unlearned how to read him — notices how tense his shoulders are. How he keeps his hands in the sand, fingers buried deep like he needs the grounding.

“I got offered a spot in a grad program in Berlin last month,” you say suddenly. You don’t know why, but the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them.

He doesn’t flinch.

But he does freeze — just for a second. Barely perceptible, but you feel it like a static shock between you. His eyes flick toward you, then away.

“What?” you ask, turning to him slightly. “Weird pause. What?”

He blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to press. “Nothing. Just… Berlin’s far.”

“Excellent observation.”

“Did you accept it?”

“No,” you say. You pause. “Turned it down.”

This time, he doesn’t mask it as well. There’s something in his face — not relief, not exactly, but something close enough to irritate you.

“What?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“Nothing,” he says, a bit too fast. “Just thought you’d take it. You always talked about wanting to move. To get out.”

“I still want to,” you say. “Just… not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Alone.”

He’s quiet.

You’re not sure why you said it. It wasn’t meant to sound like anything. But now it sits there between you — heavier than the air, thicker than the silence.

“I didn’t think that mattered to you anymore,” Jungkook says after a while.

Your laugh comes out short, dry. “Yeah. You gave up your right to guess what matters to me.”

And now he’s really looking at you, jaw working slightly like he wants to say something back — maybe something honest, maybe something dumb — but he doesn’t.

“Right,” he says finally, nodding once, more to himself than to you.

You exhale slowly, turning your gaze back to the water. You don’t know what kind of response you expected. Maybe an apology, maybe just silence. But that vague, self-soothing “right” somehow pisses you off more than either.

The tide rolls in and out again, steady as ever.

After a moment, you ask — voice even, deliberately uncurious — “What about you?”

He looks over. You can feel it. But you don’t meet his eyes.

“What about me?”

You tilt your head slightly. “How’s your life, Jungkook?”

There’s a pause, like he’s weighing whether or not this is a trap.

“It’s…” He drags out the word. “Fine.”

You glance at him briefly. “Wow. You’ve really evolved.”

He chuckles. “You set the tone. Thought we were keeping it short.”

You let out a quiet breath through your nose. “Just trying to get through the week, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says again. And for some reason, this one doesn’t irritate you as much.

He shifts his weight, drawing one knee up so he can rest an arm over it. “I've also been attending interviews and stuff. Still need to hear back from them.”

You nod.

“I moved,” he adds after a second. “Place near the river. Quiet.”

“You always said you hated the river.”

“I said I hated the smell.”

“Which comes from the river.”

He shrugs. “I like the quiet now.”

You hum like you don’t quite believe him.

The air’s cooled a bit, the heat of the day finally loosening its grip, and a breeze moves through just enough to lift strands of your hair. Above you, the sky is wide open — deep, dark, and dusted with stars. The kind of stars you never really see in the city.

You tilt your head back slightly, just to look at them. It’s the kind of sky that used to pull words out of you. That used to make both of you go quiet for good reasons. Stargazing had been your thing once — one of those low-effort dreams that somehow still meant everything.

It had even made it onto the bucket list you’d both scribbled out on a small piece of paper one night with a pink pen: “See the northern lights.” “Swim in a bioluminescent bay.” “Stargaze in the middle of nowhere.”

You wonder if he remembers. Part of you hopes he does. Part of you hopes he doesn’t.

You glance sideways. He’s staring at the water. The silence hangs — not awkward, just long. Heavy in a way that feels like a question waiting to be asked.

“I almost didn’t come,” he says eventually, eyes still on the water.

The words hit soft, but they land hard. You don’t say anything. Don’t even look at him. You just stay where you are, watching the water.

“I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone,” he adds after a moment, like that explains anything. Or everything.

You swallow thickly. You don’t know what to do with that — what to say to it — so you choose not to say anything at all. You push your hands into the sand beside you and stand up slowly, brushing off your shorts.

His voice follows you, barely above a whisper.

“But I figured... you’d be here.”

That stops you for half a second. Not because of what he says — those words are vague enough to mean anything — but because of who they’re coming from. You don’t turn around. You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. You just stand there, staring at the water like it might offer you patience.

You hate how casual he says it. Like this was all some quiet inevitability. Like it wasn’t him who walked away.

Of course you’re here. You were always going to show up — for Kiara, for Taehyung, for your friends who matter to you. That part never changed. What did, was him deciding, out of nowhere, that the two of you couldn’t work anymore.

That four years together was suddenly a dead end.

So what exactly was that supposed to mean? That he knew you’d come, like he still understood you better than anyone else? Or that he was counting on it?

You feel the words gather in your throat — sharp, instinctive, just on the edge of spilling out. But you swallow them down, pressing your lips together until they stop trying.

You give the ocean one last look, then turn and walk away, mumbling a simple, "I'm going to bed."

Your footsteps are soft in the sand, but your chest is loud with everything you wish you’d said. The lights from the house glow a dull yellow in the distance.

When you step inside, the kitchen’s still half-lit — someone probably left a lamp on over the sink — but the rest of the place is still. You don’t bother turning it off. You just move through the space as quick as you can, back to the room you’re supposed to share with him for the next week.

The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly the quiet feels heavier than the sand you tracked in.

You don’t change. Don’t brush your teeth. Don’t bother pulling back the sheets. You just lie down on top of the covers, facing the window, the sound of the waves leaking in through the small crack you left open.

You try not to think about what he meant. About why he said it. About whether he meant anything at all.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

You lie there with your eyes closed, but your mind won’t follow. You shift, restless, each turn in the sheets only dragging up memories you wish you could leave in the past — memories you thought you'd already left in the past.

Eventually though, your body gives in. Your thoughts quiet. Your breathing steadies.

You don’t hear the door when he finally comes in.

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[okaylikeschaewon]

Chapter 10: Choices

~6k words, male reader, smut

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Sakura yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“Kkura I’m fucking scared.”

She took one proper look at you and that was enough to let the drowsiness instantly fade from her face. The fact that it was the break of dawn and that she had just rolled out of bed a moment earlier seemingly no longer mattered. Shrugging her shoulders to protect herself from the cold, Sakura shut the door behind her and stepped out into the crisp morning air, pulling her robe tight around her body.

“What happened?” she asked softly, her beautiful, round eyes widened. Her expression was warm, despite the chilly morning air.

“What if she doesn’t take it well?” you asked, your breath catching in the cold and your teeth clattering.

“Let’s slow down for a second,” Sakura began shivering. “But first, can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, right,” Sakura frowned. “Car?”

“That works,” you agreed, turning around and leading Sakura towards where you parked.

Sakura got into the passenger seat as you turned on the car.

“Much better,” Sakura shivered, holding her hands up to the vents as you started blasting the heat. “Alright, now do you want to explain what you’re talking about?”

“I slept on it, like you said,” you began anxiously. “I can’t shake my head around… I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Sakura sighed, her eyes shimmering with compassion. Her gaze was soft and understanding, radiating a soothing energy that promised there would be no judgment on her end.

“You’re going to need to clarify who you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. It’s Zuha. I can’t get that girl out of my head. I swear ever since she confessed, I’ve felt something inside me that I just haven’t been able to shake.”

“Then I guess you have your answer.”

“Isn’t it fucked up though?” you raised your voice unintentionally, nearly shouting at the girl without even realizing it. “Sorry, I just mean like, for Chaewon, I feel awful. I still really love her, I think, but I think I also have feelings for Kazuha? I don’t know, nothing makes sense to me anymore, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m not here to tell you what’s right and wrong,” Sakura replied calmly. “I love both of those girls with all of my heart.” 

“And I still have a lot of love for both of them.”

“But you can’t see both of them romantically,” Sakura smiled gently. “There’s no real nice way to put it, you have to pick one.”

“It just feels wrong,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Why can’t I just have them both?”

“It’s one thing to sleep with both of them, but it’s another to have feelings for both,” Sakura chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it would be fair to either girl if you tried keeping both.”

It sucked to hear, even if for just a moment you tried to trick yourself into thinking it would be possible. “You’re right, I know, it just blows.”

“And I’m not telling you which one you should pick, that’s your decision,” Sakura continued. “Lucky you, by the way, in the grand scheme of things there are worse choices to be left with.”

“I know, I’m making my own life difficult.”

“I’m not saying it’s an easy choice.”

“But I have to make it.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sakura pursed her lips as her expression bled empathy. “They both really like you, more than you probably know.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“My bad,” Sakura chuckled before her expression turned more serious. “If it makes you feel better, I know better than anyone that you’ll do right by Chaewon even if you decide to move onto Kazuha.”

Better than anyone. Something about that comment didn’t exactly sit right with you, and immediately you figured something was wrong.

“Sakura?” you gave her a look of confusion as you fixated on that one line.

“I’m fine,” her voice cracked as she quickly turned away from you to look out the passenger side window.

“I… are you…” your voice trailed off, and it was like there was a rock in your throat. All of a sudden you couldn’t speak, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You reached out for Sakura’s shoulder with your hand.

“I said I’m fine,” she repeated firmly, pulling her shoulder away from your touch, still staring out the window. “Just… give me a second, please.”

“Sure, let me know,” you leaned back slowly.

This couldn’t be much further from what you expected the conversation would be like. It all happened too fast, you were still trying to comprehend how it turned into this. You kept your gaze fixated on Sakura’s back, confused and worried about her, forgetting about your own dilemma for the moment.

She brought one of her hands up to her face, presumably wiping her eyes with the cuff of her robe, followed by a couple of silent sobs. Her body trembled just enough for you to notice, as if she was still outside in the cold, but the car was as warm as it could be. She let out one final sniffle, shrugging her shoulders as she took a deep breath and turned back to face you.

“Sorry about that,” she stated, her beautiful round eyes stained scarlet. “As I was saying-”

“Sakura,” you cut in, barely hearing your own voice over your thumping heart. “Are you okay?”

A shaky exhale escaped her lips as her brow furrowed. Her lip began to tremble, and her eyelids began blinking rapidly. She nodded, unable to find her voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Sakura laughed as a couple of tears flew down her face. “About how pathetic I am? How it takes one mention of our past to send me down a fucking rabbit hole all night?”

“What are you talking about? You’re not pathetic-”

“Aren’t I?” she shouted, her voice unstable and shaky, each syllable wavering and threatening collapse. “I bet you didn’t think about it at all after we stopped talking last night.”

“Of course I did,” you responded unconvincingly, fully aware that she knew you were lying.

“Yeah? Did you also spend all night looking at pictures? Pictures that I refused to delete? Even though I told myself I would?” Sakura snapped back. “That’s what I thought.”

It was tough to hear and you were admittedly at a loss for words, staring at Sakura as she was on the verge of fresh tears. It hurt so unbelievably bad to see her like this. You’ve known this girl for years and seeing her in this state was a rare occurrence, but it was so fucking difficult whenever it happened. You hated it. You hated every second of what was happening in this car.

“I’m fine,” Sakura choked, still struggling to get the words out. “Being reminded last night just really had me thinking about those days.”

“I’m sorry-”

“It took me a really long time to forgive you,” Sakura confessed, ignoring your apology. “Like, a really fucking long time.”

“I had no idea-”

“I once told Zuha I was going to murder you in your sleep.”

“Oh,” you raised your eyebrows. “Understandable, very reasonable.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Sakura scoffed. “What you did was… honestly it’s been long enough, I’m going to say it. What you did was fucked up.”

“Excuse me? We both agreed to end things when we ended them,” you finally found your voice and defended yourself. “How can you put all the blame on me like that?”

“You’re right, we both agreed,” Sakura retaliated with her voice full of rage. “I’m talking about the reason you gave and what you did right after.”

“You mean-”

“Yes you fucking asshole,” Sakura interjected. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt me? And it’s not like she knew a thing, I made sure to never tell her, because it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve to have that in her mind.”

“I didn’t plan for things to happen the way they did, you know this. It just… things just happened the way they did, no one could have seen it coming.”

“I. Fucking. Know,” Sakura sighed with exasperation, frustratingly agreeing as if she knew she had no other option. “Of course I fucking know, I’m the one who basically…” she sighed deeper with heavy pent up frustration behind her before adding in a nearly-silent whisper. “But it still really hurt.”

“I’m really sorry Kkura, I-”

“Never thought about it? Had no idea? Why would you? You had a pretty girl obsessed with you while all I had was fucking nothing, nothing but the pleasure of watching you replace me in less than… however long it was. I don’t even give a fuck about that part, it’s just the reason you gave me.”

She was right, to a degree. It’s not that you hadn’t thought about it, but you clearly did not realize how much you put her through, or perhaps you were just too much of a dickhead to care. She deserved better, and it took you far too long to realize this, you hurt the girl who was there for you far more than you ever could have known.

“Kkura-”

“Alright, fine, maybe I did care about that part as well, maybe I felt like what we had wasn’t very special if you could replace me that quickly. I don’t know, but I could have overlooked it,” Sakura kept going, not letting you get a word in. “Really it’s probably my fault, I could have said no when you asked me that night, I could have just ignored your text, never set you up on that date.”

“That’s not fair at all, no one could have ever predicted that night to turn into what it did. Chaewon wasn’t even in the picture at that point. It wasn’t even supposed to be her, you know this, things just kinda fell into place after.”

“Obviously I do, I set it up,” Sakura snapped at you. “And we both know damn well how I don’t have it in me to ignore you like that, but I probably should have.”

“Sakura, I know I hurt you,” you began as you chose your next words carefully. “But you know my first date with Chaewon was before the announcement, right? I had no idea she was going to debut again, she didn’t tell me until way later.”

“Even if you knew, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but it still matters,” you replied softly. “The reason I gave you was genuine, and I don’t think I would have gone forward with Chaewon had I known about the group. You believe me, right?”

She paused for a moment to think about what you said. “Yeah, I do, and honestly I don’t really blame you, I know I don’t,” Sakura replied, her voice losing the anger and being replaced with a touch of dejection - one that stung much more than when she was yelling at you. “I get it, I saw the way you looked at her. It was clear as day you were madly in love with her, and you two were just so perfect together.”

“That must have made it even harder on you,” you muttered, your vision starting to blur. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sakura replied bluntly. “How could I be upset? Chaewon was happier than I had ever seen her. I was happy for her. Of course I was. It’s not her fault.”

Words once again escaped your brain.

“As mad as I was, I was also secretly happy for you as well,” Sakura confessed with a smile stained with melancholy. “It may sound stupid, but even though we didn’t work out, deep down I still wanted to see you happy. Oh, who am I fucking kidding, it wasn’t that deep down. I wanted you to be happy, even when you hurt me. Pathetic as fuck, right?”

“And I also want to see you happy, does that make me pathetic too?” you replied, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “I hope you know I really mean that, I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. And my reason wasn’t bullshit, I swear I really felt that way, I just wasn’t expecting that whole thing to unfold the way it did.”

“I know, I don’t think either of us expected it, I didn’t even know it was an option,” Sakura mumbled quietly under her breath. “I promise I never held it against Chaewon.”

“Just against me.”

“Only at the start,” Sakura laughed softly as the tears finally spilled. “You know how I said I know you’d do right by Chaewon? Yeah, as much as you hurt me, there’s a reason I didn’t actually murder you in your sleep.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know, but sometimes things happen,” Sakura smiled faintly, her eyes glistening as she fought the losing battle against the wave of emotion threatening to break through. “Seeing how happy you made Chaewon made it a lot easier for me to forgive you.”

Just like that, tears also began flowing down your face in a way you couldn’t control.

“That… wasn’t supposed to be…” Sakura stammered quickly.

“Sakura I’m so-” you choked up before finishing your thought.

“It’s okay,” Sakura whispered, leaning over and wrapping you up in her arms. “I promise it’s okay. I’m here with you.”

It took you a few moments - squeezing Sakura tenderly - before you were able to compose yourself again. You let go of her slowly and another wave of warmth shot through your body when you saw her face tear-soaked.

“It’s all behind us now,” Sakura said softly. “Just like I was able to forgive you, I’m confident Chaewon will, too.”

“Does that mean you think she’ll be mad at me?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that,” Sakura quickly backtracked. “This situation is different.”

“Isn’t this one worse?” you asked nervously. “Fuck, Sakura I don’t know anymore, maybe this is all a mistake.”

“I don’t think you should doubt yourself, just listen to what your heart’s telling you. It’s also kinda too late to back out now, think about Zuha.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t see a better option, but it’s definitely complicated,” Sakura replied nervously. “Just be thoughtful when it’s time to tell Chaewon, if you’re mean to her, maybe I will have to murder you in your sleep.”

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you half-smiled. “But let’s be honest, we both know I could never hurt that girl on purpose, ever.”

“You probably thought that about… actually let’s not go there again,” Sakura returned your smile half-heartedly. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

“Fingers crossed,” Sakura chuckled, wiping her face clean as she opened the door.

The two of you stepped into the brisk air once more. You walked around your car to Sakura who was waiting for you. Without speaking a single word, the two of you embraced in a tight hug, properly this time.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into her shoulder, the coldness of the morning being completely replaced by the warmth of Sakura’s hug.

“Good luck with everything, I’m always here for you if I can help with anything,” Sakura whispered back before letting go of you and shooting you a nervous glance. “When do you plan on talking to them?”

The talk with Sakura ended up creeping just a bit of doubt into your decision, but your mind was still set. You knew, as much as you didn’t want to do it, this conversation had to happen at some point soon because the longer you waited the worse it would become. With that in mind, you returned Sakura’s nervous expression with a look of determination.

“Right now.”

—

“Hey,” you whispered, peeking your head through the door to see if she was awake.

“Oh! I thought it was Kkura,” Kazuha blurted out as she looked up from her phone. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I came to see you, actually,” you answered while opening the door a bit more. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, uh, yeah of course,” she replied, sitting up in her bed and putting her phone aside. “Come, sit. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow at you as if you were an idiot. “I pieced together that much,” she giggled softly. “Did you not sleep well? Your eyes are a bit red.”

“Oh no that’s just-”

“You don’t have pinkeye do you?” Kazuha leaned back away from you. “I really don’t want to wear an eye patch, not during promos.”

“No, Zuha, it’s not pinkeye,” you smiled meekly.

“Okay good!” she giggled again, leaning back in and cuddling up next to you before quickly pulling away in fear. “Uh, sorry, that was… I probably shouldn’t do stuff like that right now with the whole… sorry…”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” you scooted closer to her as her face turned a shade light pink. “Forget everything else for a moment, because things are a bit complicated, but just listen to me. I like you, Zuha. A lot.”

“Oh,” Kazuha blushed even harder. “T-Thank you? I also like you, a lot.”

“I want to make you my girlfriend.”

“What?” Kazuha began blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “But what about-”

“I told you, please just for a moment forget everything else, we’ll figure that stuff out,” you cut her off. “Just tell me, would you like that?”

Kazuha pondered your words. Unknown to you, her heart was beating harder than it ever has before. “I… I would…” she muttered before smiling brightly at you with her eyes twinkling. “Yes, I would.”

Just like that, you knew you made the correct choice. The way she looked at you, the way you felt right now, everything was perfect. You wanted nothing more in life than this girl sitting next to you, that precious smile and those pure eyes. Your insides were burning up in a warmth of comfort and love that you didn’t know you felt towards this girl, all of a sudden it just came rushing in. That gnawing sensation you’ve had inside you ever since her confession, it finally made sense.

Unfortunately, the feeling only lasted for a fleeting moment before reality came crashing in and Chaewon popped into your mind again.

“What’s wrong?” Kazuha looked concerned as she immediately noticed your shift. She pulled you into her arms, just like Sakura did earlier. “I guess we need to address the elephant in the room.”

“How am I supposed to tell her?” you whispered, pulling away from Kazuha slowly. “I want this, I really do, but I don’t want to hurt Chaewon.”

“And I don’t either,” Kazuha agreed as worry filled her expression. “Should we talk to her together?”

“You think that’s better? It’s a bit of a unique situation, I don’t really know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” Kazuha smiled softly. “You’d be my first relationship, remember?”

“I guess we’ll be traversing some uncharted territory together,” you smiled back at her before leaning in.

Without thinking, you kissed her. As soon as your lips touched, you froze, regretting and realizing this probably wasn’t the right time - but then you felt Kazuha kiss back. You let her take control as she ended up on top of you, her lips pressed softly against yours.

“Zuha,” you whispered into her mouth.

“You asked me to forget everything else, just for a moment,” she whispered back before kissing you again. “Can we really forget it all, please?”

“You mean?”

“Yes,” she gasped as she sat up and began taking off her shorts. “Can we?”

Your mind went a bit hazy as you thought back to the other night. The memories of how good Kazuha felt flooded into your brain.

“Fuck it,” you also began lowering your pants before you flipped Kazuha onto her back and spread her legs.

“Is this wrong?” she asked, looking up at you with her hair framing her face as if she was some sort of angel laying there beneath you.

“Probably,” you shrugged as you pulled her underwear to the side. “We could stop, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“No!” her voice cracked, immediately followed by an intense red glow of her cheeks. “I just mean… uh…”

“Don’t explain, I understand,” you smiled down at her as you lined yourself up. “Whatever happens in this room this morning, it’s between us and only us, let’s agree to put everything else on pause, alright?”

“I’d like that,” Kazuha nodded at you before spreading her legs a bit wider. “Go slow?”

“Let me know,” you whispered back as you pressed yourself forward carefully. You leaned in close, slipped your hands under Kazuha’s body, and pressed your mouth to her neck, kissing it softly as she flexed her body. “Try to relax, if you can.”

“It’s really fucking tight,” Kazuha whispered, arching her back.

“Should I stop?”

Kazuha hesitated, taking a couple deep breaths before speaking. “No, not yet, just… just slowly…”

“Okay,” you moved up a bit and began lifting Kazuha’s shirt up.

She helped you take it off, exposing her perky tits, letting a sweet moan escape her lips as you pressed your mouth to her chest.

“Oh that’s nice,” she whispered as you started moving your hips. “Good, but still really tight.”

“Hold on,” you moved your hips back and pulled out. “How about we slow down even more?”

Kazuha bit her lip. “I’m sorry, for some reason I’m more nervous this time.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled reassuringly while bringing your fingers between her legs. With delicate and deliberate movements, you tried your best to ease her nerves, slowly pressing where she was most sensitive. “We can take our time, or we can try again another time, it’s up to you.”

“How about a different position?” Kazuha suggested as she pressed her fingers down on top of yours and pressed them down a bit harder. “But this feels nice.”

“Yeah? Should we just keep doing this?” you asked before leaning into her again and kissing her collarbone.

“This feels really nice,” Kazuha moaned softly as she pressed her fingers even harder, guiding your hand around her pussy.

Your fingers began sliding easier as time passed. The gentle sound of wetness, accompanied by Kazuha’s eyes shutting and her features softening, put you into a state of ease. It was working, and you didn’t want to stop. You had her entire body relaxing, you could almost see each and every fiber of Kazuha’s toned muscles relax.

She began moaning in a musical-like tone, one that screamed class and innocence with just a touch of naughty. It fit her so well, that pretty - unbelievably pretty - face. Even as she scrunched up her expression, she just looked so fucking pretty. You could stare at her all day.

While this was going on, the pressure building up in your cock was becoming too much. You couldn’t help but start stroking yourself to the view, trying to relax your own body as Kazuha began squirming beneath your fingers. It took a lot of self control, you knew that you could finish in just moments if you let yourself go, but right now you were more concerned with how Kazuha felt.

“You’re so beautiful,” you muttered softly under your breath as Kazuha’s body began trembling. He moans crescendoed, that beautiful voice of hers piercing your ears, but despite the increase in pitch, she stayed quiet. Elegant, in a way, even as she started cumming on your fingers, the epitome of grace and tenderness.

“I want it,” Kazuha moaned, fluttering her eyes open as she let go of your hand.

“What were you thinking? You wanna try being on top again?”

“No,” Kazuha smiled before pulling you closer. “Just like this, I want to see you, to kiss you. Is that fine?”

“Absolutely,” you gasped as Kazuha spread her legs a bit wider for you and took hold of your cock. She gave you a couple of soft strokes before rubbing her thumb against your tip, pressing against the little glob of precum. “That sounds perfect.”

With your cock in hand, you slid forward between her legs, pressing your tip against her entrance.

“Come on,” Kazuha replied while spreading herself even more, showing off her flexibility. “I need this.”

“So do I,” you muttered as you eased your cock into her pussy.

This time was a million times better than last time. She was still perfectly tight, but her pussy accepted your cock beautifully. The warmth and snugness hugged your cock like a blanket, bringing you unmatched comfort and sensation. She had the most ideal pussy.

She was like a flower, her soft and delicate curves moist to your touch. There was this warmth, this allure, that kept you captivated. You were entranced by Kazuha’s body, so much so that you felt this irresistible urge of greediness within you.

As carefully as you could, you grabbed Kazuha’s neck from behind and began kissing her deeply. Once you started, you pressed your thumb against her clit, making little circles along her skin. Your tongue slipped past her lips, gently intertwining and mixing against hers, while you worked her entire body.

“You feel so good,” you whispered as you leaned away from the kiss.

“Give it to me,” Kazuha pleaded with her eyes wide. “Please.”

So you picked up the tempo, pushing your hips harder, pressing your cock deeper. You slowly broke down that layer of delicateness that you viewed Kazuha through - her expression was basically begging for it. The more you fucked Kazuha, the harder you went, and the better it felt.

At this point, your thrusts had lost almost all degrees of tenderness, and both your hands had found their way to Kazuha’s hips. She took it well, bracing herself as you pressed your fingers into her skin and slammed your cock against her pussy. She showed no signs of anything other than raw pleasure as she took your cock over and over.

If she felt good, you felt fucking amazing. You lightened the grip you had on her hips as you slowed down your thrusting. This wasn’t a moment you wanted to rush, but you could only slow down so much - your body wouldn’t let you stop completely, it was out of your control. Still, you made do, sliding your hands up Kazuha’s body and giving her tits a few little squeezes. Her body was fucking amazing.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were too close to hold back. Despite your best efforts, it was already too late, so you took hold of Kazuha’s hips once more, pushing down on Kazuha’s body and shoving your cock into her as hard and fast as you could. Kazuha’s moans filled your ears as she shut her eyes and arched her back beneath you.

She looked so fucking good right now, even as your vision was going blurry. You held on for just a bit longer, fighting back any fatigue as your cock throbbed harder than ever. Her warm pussy felt better than heaven in this moment, and with a couple of final thrusts and grunts, you began launching your cum deep inside her pussy.

“Zuha,” you grunted a final time as your body gave up, collapsing onto her.

The next few moments had you in a trance as you let your cock pulse inside Kazuha’s warmth as she wrapped her arms around your body, rubbing your back softly.

“You feel so good,” Kazuha whispered against your ear. “Oh fuck, you feel so damn good, cum for me, fill me up.”

Such gentle words when delivered through her voice, but she was driving you insane right now. You almost felt paralyzed inside her as your cock just kept on spilling cum again and again, the pulsing felt like it went forever. It took so much strength for you to finally, carefully ease yourself out of Kazuha’s body. Even lifting yourself up off her was a task.

“Fuck, that’s a lot,” you mumbled as you pulled out, leaving your cum spilling between Kazuha’s legs as you reached for some tissues. “One second.”

“Wow,” Kazuha muttered as she gently rubbed herself, spreading your cum around, playing with it between her fingers. “That was something.”

“Something good or something not good?” you asked as you sat back down on the bed next to her.

“Something amazing,” Kazuha smiled softly. “But also a bit inappropriate.”

“If it makes you feel better, Chaewon technically wanted me to do this,” you carefully wiped her inner thighs clean before tossing the tissues away. “Although it still feels a bit wrong.”

“Oh,” Kazuha turned her head away from you.

“Not you, that felt amazing,” you quickly pulled her into your arms for a hug before grabbing her by both shoulders and staring tenderly into her eyes. “Zuha, let there be no confusion, that was fucking perfect.”

“Right, sorry, I guess I’m still just a bit…” her voice tapered off as she looked up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“You’re. Perfect. And. Amazing,” you whispered, kissing her neck between each word. “It’s totally natural to be a bit-”

“Sensitive?” Kazuha finished your sentence. “Because I am, I’ll admit it.”

“And that’s completely okay. What I said was stupidly phrased. I’m sorry,” you wrapped an arm tightly around Kazuha’s shoulders, pulling her to sit next to you, and leaned against her head. “Things are just messy, but we'll figure it out. Together.”

“I hope so,” Kazuha sighed softly. Her hand began exploring your thigh, inching towards your shaft slowly until she gently caressed it with her fingertips. “I wish there was some sort of way that we could do this without all the mess.”

“Zuha, you know it doesn’t work like that.”

“I know,” her voice faded softly and she unwrapped your arm from her shoulder, leaning away from you and turning towards you. “Okay, this might sound stupid since you call me Zuha all the time, but I loved that. This time it felt… different?”

“I’m glad,” you smiled as a wave of warmth flooded your body. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly,” you kissed the top of her head. “But one thing - do not call me daddy.”

“Oh no I could never,” Kazuha agreed quickly, sounding completely put off just by the thought of it as she rested her head against your body again. “I guess we should probably talk about boundaries and stuff at some point.”

“We have a lot to talk about, but maybe we should wait until…”

“Until after you talk to Chaewon?”

“Yeah, I think,” you replied as your mind drifted into thought, trying to figure out how to go about things, gently stroking Kazuha’s hair. “Hey, I thought you said we should both talk to her together?”

“Well, I think you got it, I don’t know what I’d say.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to say,” you sighed. “Zuha, do you think this might cause problems with the group dynamic?”

“Truthfully? At first, yeah, I did,” Kazuha answered quietly. “But then I got to thinking.”

There was a pause, a bit longer than you expected. Kazuha lifted and turned herself slightly so that she could look up at you.

“And?” you encouraged her to continue as the anticipation grew.

“Promise you’ll keep this between us?”

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Zuha, yes, I know. Not a soul.”

“Alright,” she bit her lip nervously. “I think there might have been a bit of… something… between Sakura and Chaewon at the very beginning.”

“Oh?” you waited for her to continue as you thought back to what Sakura told you in the car earlier.

“Look, I met them a bit after everyone else, but I could tell there was some sort of… resentment? I don’t exactly know, and maybe it was just because we were all getting to know each other.”

“Well, most of you were.”

“So you see what I’m saying?” Kazuha pursed her lips. “Chaewon and Sakura barely talked. I never understood it since they knew each other already, but then, seemingly overnight, the two of them became closer than ever. I don’t know if the others ever noticed it.”

“Chaewon never gave me details, but I sort of know around when this happened,” you explained. “She told me she spent a night with Sakura, and I didn’t really ask questions.”

“Right. Anyway, the reason I brought this up is because I really think no matter how the conversation with her goes, as a group we’ll get through things, we always do.”

Her words were reassuring at least, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit better. “Thank you, really.”

Then, you leaned in, but before you could kiss her, Kazuha lunged up towards you and pressed her lips against yours, catching you a bit by surprise. She kissed you aggressively until you fell onto your back with her on top of you. It felt like this kiss would go on forever, and maybe it would have if it weren’t for the knock on the door.

“I don’t know what’s going on in there, but I really need to get ready!” Sakura's voice came through the door.

---

A/N:

I posted a poll and based on the first day responses, Dating Seraphs was in the lead. Ask and you shall receive!

The Kazuha arc continues! Maybe? Probably? I guess next chapter will have more answers. The talk with Chaewon, the history with Sakura, sex with Kazuha, there's so much to cover in the next few chapters! Also, there's a cameo appearance coming soon that I can't imagine anyone will be able to guess because I don't know if I've ever talked about this idol, but we'll see how popular she is among my readers (ex-izone member). I'll give this chapter at least a few days to marinate before my next post.

Based on how things are going in my writing world and the initial responses to that poll, Dating Seraphs needs attention. My next post will probably either be Debauchery p2 or something in the roommates universe, followed by Dating Seraphs ch11, and then most likely I'll give Twice some love and post an update to that story. Of course, this is subject to change!

Feedback, requests, messages, comments, asks, whatever you feel like sending, feel free. I'm a bit more active these days with writing stuff, but just please be considerate if you're going to send something. I've gotten a few questionable DMs recently. Use common sense!

[ce1estiall]

flowers

summary paige x teammate!reader paige became bold and flirty with you at practice. that was just the start. part 2 “dopamine”

warnings slight making out, some sexual tension, mostly fluff

celestial notes hey! first fic ever postedd i hope you guys like it! sorry its so short, im not used to writing a lot. ill make a part 2 probably of them being freakyyy. also feel free to leave me any requests you have!

“one two three, a secret awakening, the night in full bloom, a blooming joy.

just like a fantasy in my garden, show me your flowers.” aespa - flowers

the practice facility was brezzy and cool, a relieving place to be due to the heat outside. you went to the locker room to get ready for practice. you were grabbing your shoes and practice jersey when you noticed paige in the corner of your eye.

“someone looks a little too beautiful just for practice. you got a date or something?” paige asked, being a tease. two can play that game, you thought to yourself. “no, why? jealous if i did have one because it wasn’t you?” you smirked

“i dont know. would i? time can only tell.” she left the locker room as she winked at you. paige was a lot of things. annoying, childish, and bold. but she was never this flirty.

only the team knew paige was gay, and they promised to hide it from the media. however, as paige teased you in that short moment, a fire ignited in your body.

you walked out and onto the court doing the norm. laps, stretching, then layups. when you were doing drills, you would catch paige staribg at you. or when she handed you the ball, she would brush her hand across yours. it caught you off guard, which caused you to mess up and coach geno got angry, but you brushed it off.

after practice, you headed to the locker room to get your stuff, then headed to your apartment.

you entered your apartment and immediately dropped your items down. you felt exhausted. dealing with paige, running on 5 hours of sleep, and practice. it was all catching up to you. you were sweaty and decided to take a shower.

post-everything shower, as you were combing your hair, a knock came from your front door.

you whispered under your breath. “what the fuck.”

you opened the door when you say paige infront of you. “look who came to hunt me down. dont you have a psych test tomorrow you should be studying for?”

“it can wait.” she replied, standing there in a black hoodie, grey sweats and slides. “can i come in?”

you reached out an arm, signaling her to come in. she entered and went to your room and plopped on your bed. you weren’t bothered, just confused.

you followed, standing at the door frame. she patted next to her, telling you to sit down.

you obeyed, sitting down next to her as her arm rested around your shoulders. you broke the silence as she was looking for something to watch with you.

“someone was really bold today in the locker room, i wonder why.” you spoke. paige rolled her eyes in defense. “you know you love it when im bold with you.” she replied. “just wanted to see your reaction.”

“who said i didn’t?” you scoot closer to her, looking at her. “it caught me off guard.”

“you did look really beautiful.” she turned to look at you. you became flushed at her sudden comment.

“during the whole practice, i couldn’t stop looking at you. i couldn’t pay attention to anything to save my life. you were distracting me.” things were becoming crystal clear. paige was falling for you. you didn’t know what to say or how to reply.

“am i just that magnetic towards you?” you teased her. you wanted to see how much it took until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“mmm maybe.” she said with a smirk.

“your eyes looked like you wanted to kiss me right there. why didn’t you?” you were having too much fun. adrenaline was flowing through your body.

she chuckled. “i was waiting for the right time.”

“is that why you came to my dorm?” you got up too close to her face. you then whispered in her ear. “you just can’t resist me.”

it was the turning point for her. she couldn’t stop herself.

she leaned in, cupping your face. her soft lips touching yours, tasting each other, then leaving. soft moans in between. she then leaned in your neck, smelling your fragrance. “are you wearing the one i got for you? the floral one for your birthday?”

“mhm.” you replied.

“no wonder you have me on this effect today.” she placed sweet kisses on your neck while also inhaling the floral fragrance. you had her under a spell, in her garden. and you were a special flower with a special scent she came back to, needing, craving more.

“you’re making this so fucking hard for me.”

[zevrra]

𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 ⋆˚꩜｡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩: out of all the days for your car to have broken down, leaving you stranded on the side of the road, it had to be the day your dad had just left for a sudden business trip—he was hours away by now and you were just here; stuck. you could call a tow truck but the bill for that was…way out of the budget. so the only other thing you could think of to do was to call your dad’s best friend; joel miller.

a.k.a joel (the sexiest man alive) comes to your rescue and you want to repay him for it.

𝐟𝐭.dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

𝐰𝐜: 7k

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: mdni, no-outbreak!joel, straight smut, no real plot, implied forbidden romance, significant AGE GAP, reader is in their 20s, joel is in his 50s, mention of sarah(30s + no ellie), no use of y/n, joel likes pet names, sexual tension, joel tries to remain morally ‘right’, joel’s a lil insecure if you squint, thigh riding if you squint, dirty talk, handjob (both m and f receiving), unprotected p in v (just the tip!), coming onto/between v too.

𝐚/𝐧: yeah this is… waaaaayyyy longer…than i had planned for it to be…but if it gets more than 10 likes and 2 reblogs I’ll write a part two! :3

You’ve heard more stories about Joel Miller than you had actually seen him in real life; only meeting him one other time in the entirety of the six years he’s been your dad’s best friend. But with no other family and no extra cash to pay for a tow…you prayed that maybe he’d find it in the kindness of his heart to come rescue little ole you. 

Thankfully, your dad had given you his number in a “just in case”, if you ever needed it. Strange how for once your dad was right about something you had swore up and down would never happen. It almost made you smile— and you would if not given the predicament you were in right now.

For a moment, as you sit in your car, with your thumb slightly trembling as it hovers over Joel’s contact name, you silently pray that he’d pick up when a stranger was calling. 

No more time to talk yourself out of it, you press on his name, watching your phone begin to ring at your request. You quickly tap the speaker button, hands clammy as you listen to the dial ring. Your heart is pounding in your chest for some odd reason as the line continues to ring and ring.

You’re just about to give up hope and hang up, so his voicemail doesn’t pick up for you instead, but suddenly you hear the line click and a deep southern voice echoes in from the otherside; “Yeah?” 

You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you suddenly exhale a deep sigh upon hearing his voice. “Hey!” You blurt out. “You probably don’t have my number saved or anything like that but I’m the daughter of your friend!” 

“Oh,” Joel starts and you can hear him rustling around, as if he’s putting down something he had been working on. “I remember ya. Somethin’ I can help you with sweetheart?” His voice drips with honey and confusion and you can’t blame him. But the tender way he mutters sweetheart has your fingers trembling just that much more. 

“Yes, actually! I’m a little stranded at the moment. See my dad’s outta town for a business trip and my car has broken down so yeah…” You trail off, fiddling with the edge of your phone case while the words ‘I could use some help’ stick to the back of your throat. 

“You need me to come get ya?” Joel’s warm voice breaks the silence, knowing exactly what you couldn’t say seconds before.  

“I mean, that would be awesome if you could! But like, don’t worry about it if you’re busy! I could call a tow truck or something.” You ramble on. And for a second you think maybe you’ve lost service as he doesn’t say anything right away but as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking; he answers you. 

“What road ya on?” Joel asks all soft like, while you can hear some more rustling in the background. 

You glance at the maps on your phone before telling him the road you were on, fingers returning to fiddle with your phone case. “But like again, if you’re too far or busy I can just call a tow!” You mutter as the pit of your stomach does backflips. You’d really hate to inconvenience him but at the same time…with your father gone…and being in seemingly the middle of nowhere…you’d take your chances of annoying him just a little. 

Joel laughs on the other end and it sends a warmth that rivals the summer heat through your entire body. You catch the faint sound of keys jingling on his end before he responds. “No worries hun. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.” 

And with that, Joel says his goodbye and the call ends. 

“That went…surprisingly well.” You mutter to yourself as you stretch out along your driver seat. Might as well get comfy while you wait. 

Just as promised, Joel shows up about twenty-five minutes later. He parks an older farm truck right behind you that squeaks as the door opens with his exit. You get out of your own car to greet him and you hate how your stomach returns to doing flips but for an entirely different reason.

Why couldn’t you remember him being so fucking handsome before? His tan skin, the salt and pepper of his hair, the stubble of his jaw. He was broad to say the least; his shoulders and chest wide, and he carried himself like a man in charge. You expect a man as toned and well muscled to be a little mean…but then he smiles upon seeing you and all your fears melt away.

“Howdy,” Joel calls, nice and easy like the breeze, making his way to you. 

You simply nod your head in response, unable to find the words to speak, as he stops in front of you. Your eyes lift just ever so slightly to look up into his eyes and fuck, they had no right to be so pretty shining in the sun like that. 

“Pop the hood for me? Let me see if these old hands can’t figure out what’s gotcha parked here.” Joel light heartedly says. And for some odd reason…you knew that if he asked you for anything in that sweet drawl of his, you’d do it in a heartbeat. 

You ease back into the driver seat of your car, reaching for the little latch that would pop the hood open. At the click, Joel moves to the front of your car while you debate sitting there, waiting to be told what to do. In the end your curiosity gets the better of you as you exit your car again. You move to the front end alongside him, staring at a mass of smooth and twisted metal underneath…not understanding a single thing as you look down at it. 

Joel must see the confusion in your gaze and it makes him laugh just a little. “S’aright hun. You ain’t gotta worry about tryin’ to figure it out.” He hums as his hand reaches forward, twisting off a cap you don’t know the name of. “Unless you wanna?” He teases as he retrieves a long, metal like wand from the depths of the engine. 

You laugh along with him, shaking your head at his question. “No thank you. Maybe next time.” You respond in a light tune, continuing to watch him as he works. 

But you can’t help staring at something other than the engine he works on.

Your eyes graze over the strength of his tan forearms. Noticing right away the scars that linger along his weathered skin. But what you really wanted to see was the muscle of his bicep— hidden underneath that damn teasing denim shirt of his. Wanted so desperately to watch him stretch and his muscles flex as he moved about while working on your car.

Your eyes trail down the rest of his body, where your attention is immediately drawn to his back. Your eyes fixate directly at the point of where his shirt meets his jeans, watching as his shirt lifts with every stretch he makes across the engine. It lifts just enough away from his jeans to allow you to see a little bit of exposed skin underneath it. His sun-kissed skin trailed all the way down his back and the idea of touching his warm body made your fingers twitch. 

“Well your oil is fine but it seems like your radiator cap is split.” Joel says. His words immediately pull you from your thoughts and you jump a little; startled as if maybe Joel could hear exactly what you were thinking…thankfully, he couldn’t. 

“Not good, I’m assuming?” You ask with a clear of your throat, desperately hoping your thoughts would return to normal with it. 

Joel chuckles a little and shakes his head as he leans back and away from your engine. He wipes his hands across his jeans and you've never thought about how sexy a man could look dirty and disheveled like Joel does right then and there.

“No good ‘til ya get it fixed at least.” Joel hums and gestures for you to step back just a little, before he lets your car hood slam shut to lock it. “It’ll keep overheating like it is now but…” Joel trails off until he comes to stand in front of you— and you swear he’s close enough that he can hear how hard your heart is beating inside your ribcage. “If you keep it slow, ya could follow me back home. I might be able to fix it long enough for ya to get back to your place.” 

You swallow a lump in your throat and nod to his solution, you weren’t coming up with anything better anyway. Plus, it got you a little more time with him. Little weird that you wanted to spend more time with a ‘stranger’ twice your age— who you just thought about touching in a…not so friendly way— but you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know him just a little better. 

“Yeah, that sounds fine. Thank you so much.” You respond with a smile. 

Joel smiles right back at you before one of his large hands reaches out and grabs your shoulder, giving you a squeeze. “Don’t worry ‘bout it sweetheart.” He says in a light tone, hand sliding just a little inwards along your skin; where he gently rubs a circle into the back of your neck, ever so slightly, before he snatches his hand away. Moving on like nothing happened. As if…his intrusive thoughts had won him over for a split second, before he turns on his heel to open the driver door for you.

Your entire body hums with a newfound feeling you’re not quite sure what to call yet. You float into the driver’s seat, putting your seatbelt on, while Joel motions for you to roll your windows down and you do; rolling all four of them down in somewhat of a panic after misclicking the first time in your jittery state. 

Joel settles onto the ledge of your window, up close and personal enough that you could see the scars on his face. 

Oh how you wished his eyes would look at your lips and give you a reason to kiss him, right then and there. And god did he look good leaning over to you like that too; like he wanted it just as badly as you suddenly did. 

“‘Member, slow and steady,” He breathes and you can almost feel the flutter of his breath across your cheek. “If you see this needle get close or even above this red line right here, pull over and turn the car off a'ight?” He adds, pointing to a needle on your dash.

You nod slightly, fingers twitching at the thought of breaking down in an even worse spot than you already were. And Joel sees that little flicker of worry cross your face before you can hide it and he chuckles. 

“Don’t worry yer’little head off, darlin’. I’ll lead. Be just right in front of ya, and all ya gotta do is follow me, okay?” He hums, tapping the edge of your window with every word, before he pushes himself upright and makes his way back to his truck. 

You watch as he leaves you, getting up into the driver seat of his own truck without another word. And suddenly you’re gripping the steering wheel for dear life. 

What were you doing? What were you thinking? Nothing appropriate to say the least. Images of him muttering that sweet nickname against your lips plays in the back of your mind like a damn movie. You definitely were reading too much into his body language and the way he rolled that darling off his tongue….he was just being nice and helping out a friend's daughter…that was it. You needed to focus. 

You let out a shaky breath, you once again had no idea you were holding, gaze shifting to watch his truck pull off into the road and you pull your car into follow suit behind him. Traveling slowly like he had told you to do so, eyes darting between the back of his pickup truck and your dashboard; watching that little needle he had pointed out to you for any kind of changes. 

After all of this, you’d definitely have to repay him somehow. Would have to ask him what you could do to return the favor of him coming to the rescue of a stranger. Could buy him dinner? That wouldn’t be too much money outside of your budget. Or buy him some beer or whiskey as thanks; he definitely looked like he enjoyed a good alcohol here and there. 

Then a terrible, terrible, idea pops into your head. It was certainly a gamble; he was older, a friend of your dad’s, and probably did not see you in that light at all…but…it was a risk worth taking.

Besides, you could always flee Texas and never come back if things went really badly. 

When the two of you managed to finally arrive at his home, without your car breaking down again along the way, thankfully, you half expected him to live in something…strange to say the least. He was a man you didn’t know, a stranger to you as much as you were to him, and showing up to his house was more than a little odd.

But as you pull up into the long driveway behind him, you realize exactly why your dad was friends with him. He lived relatively secluded, no neighbors, in a gorgeous two-story farmhouse. A large barn sits at the edge of a fence line and beyond is just a beautiful field accompanied by a handful of animals; cows, sheep, and a couple of horses lazing about. You sit in awe for just a moment, taking in the scenery before you, until the brake lights of Joel’s truck flash you back to reality and you come to a full stop behind him. 

Such a big house for one man…or so you had hoped for. Suddenly you remember your father mentioning Joel’s daughter…would she be here too? What kind of person would you be contemplating…”payment” for Joel around his daughter? Shame settles in your stomach but you smother the feeling as you watch Joel slide out of his truck once more. He motions for you to pull around him and into his garage at the side of the house and do as he says. 

As soon as you shut the car off and go to open your door, Joel is already there at your side. A small, welcoming smile is settled on his face as he holds your driver side door open for you. 

You utter a small thanks before stepping out of your car. You don’t have a moment to really look at everything inside his garage before Joel is heading towards a door you assume leads to the inside of his house. 

“Let’s go inside for a moment. Grab a drink and cool off and then figure out what’s goin’ on.” He hums as his hand settles on the doorknob. 

You nod, quickly catching up to him. Your heart pounds inside your ribcage again but you swear it’s going to explode when Joel swings the door inwards, allowing you into his home, but it’s the hover of his hand along your back that causes your heart to pump three times as hard. Tingles seep into every inch of your body but his hand is warm and strong as it just barely touches your back.

Like he’s just trying to be helpful, that’s what he’s telling himself, but he’s tempted by other thoughts— where he wants to lay the full weight of his hand along your back and guide you to wherever he may want you. 

But just as quickly as it comes, it goes. Like an afterthought that never happened. 

You move into his home, gaze shifting over the layout of the kitchen you step into. From just a brief glance, you can tell the inside of his house was just as gorgeous as the outside was. Simple, a little vintage, but definitely something you could see a man like Joel living in. 

“Can I get’cha a drink?” Joel asks as he walks up to his fridge, opening it with an easy throw. “There’s some juice. Or if you prefer, I have diet soda. Sarah says it’s better for my health.” He jokes as he rummages inside the cool fridge. You could practically hear his eyes rolling and it settles the tension in your shoulders. 

“Some water will be fine,” You hum in response, standing awkwardly beside the kitchen island, your fingers running along the counter. “How is Sarah, by the way?” You ask as your eyes settle onto a nearby picture frame of Joel and his daughter. “I’ve only heard about her in passing from my dad…when he was talking about you.” 

“Oh?” Joel chuckles somewhere behind you. “I hope only the good things are told.” 

You smile at his words, stopping at the edge of the kitchen island. 

Not prepared in the slightest as the tips of his fingers press into the back of your arm; causing you to jump at his touch and swivel on your heel to face him. And he’s close…closer than before. If you moved in anyway, you’re sure your chest would run right into his own. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you drag your gaze up into his. You freeze in the spot, waiting for something…anything to happen. Waiting for him to make a move, either away from you or to sweep you into his embrace but he does neither; he freezes just as much as you do. Tension swirls around the room like a hot summer’s wind, brewing up a storm, making everything just a little too sticky and your palms sweaty.

But just like a tornado, the tension comes and goes, leaving everything in place except for the feeling of ‘holy shit’. 

“Your water, sweetheart.” Joel finally mutters, taking his slight step back and offering you up the water he had fetched out, breaking the tension that had built up seconds ago. 

You take the glass of water out of his hand with a slight tremble to your fingers but you hold it nonetheless, continuing to stand still as he pulls away. He clears his throat as he retreats, putting space between the two of you once more. 

“But yeah, um, Sarah’s good. Married, no kids yet but maybe one day.” Joel says through another clear of his throat, trying to will away whatever that feeling of “holy shit” was from before. He turns away from you once more, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

And from your position, you can see the tips of his ears flushed a soft red. It makes you shudder at the thought of him blushing around you like some lovesick man. 

You take a sip of your water and it tastes stale compared to the want you have for the older man. You clear your own throat to try and refocus, nodding to his statement about his daughter.

At least it was somewhat comforting to know that, after what just happened, his daughter wasn’t going to come racing through the front door and watch her dad hit on someone younger or the same age as her. 

“And no Mrs. Miller?” You blurt out before you can even think about what you’re saying. Certainly pushing the boundaries now. Your dad had never spoken about Joel having a wife before but it never hurt to ask…especially after what just happened. “Sorry that’s inappropriate, right?” You embarrassingly mutter, even if it was the right thing to ask after the two of you just got done dry humping each other with your eyes.  

Joel chuckles slightly at your question, shaking his head as he eases back into ‘mr. calm and collected’. “S’alright. But yes, once. A long time ago. I’ve been divorced ever since.” He responds but says nothing more as he sets down his own preferred drink on the counter. “It’s just lil ole me and Sarah.” Joel adds; letting you in on his quiet life just a little more. 

You want to tell him how much you’re glad it’s just him. How you’ve been wanting just him since he stepped out of his truck back on the road. 

“And you? No partner waitin’ at home for ya?” Joel asks quietly, as if he’s unsure if he really should be asking the question or not; but curiosity is getting the better of the old man. 

You laugh a little at his question, an easy smile sitting on your lips. “Nope. Suppose I wouldn’t be here if I did.” 

“Hmm,” Joel ponders. “Suppose not. But I doubt you’d wanna be stuck here with an old man like me if ya didn’t have to.” 

“Good thing you don’t know me too well then,” You chime, tucking a few strands of loose hair behind your ear, glancing away from him as you ramble on about how much you are actually happy to be there, with him.

When you lift your eyes back to him, you stare right into his warm gaze. “I’m…enjoying this.” You admit finally with a shaky exhale. And if this wasn’t the moment that would set the nail into the head of: “do I need to flee the state or is this okay?” then you weren’t sure when it would happen. 

Joel’s eyes crinkle just ever so slightly and so quickly, that for a second you think you've almost imagined it. And you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He nods just a little, as if he’s almost speechless, clearing his throat to once again shake off the tension that has built up.

Returning back to reality, he takes a sip off his drink and settles against one of the many kitchen cabinets, swirling the liquid around in his glass. “So, your dad didn’t teach you anything about cars?” 

You laugh, shaking your head as you join him in leaning against the island counter. “You’re surprised? He doesn’t know a damn thing about them either.” You huff softly. 

“Mmm, true. I had to show him how to change a tire once.” Joel responds playfully, glancing in your direction.

“See!” You chuckle again, fiddling with the cup between your fingers. “Guess that’s why he told me to call you if I ever needed anything.” 

That warm, fuzzy feeling floats over your entire body again; weighs on you like a thick blanket while Joel falls silent for a second. 

God, how you wished you could hear what was going on in that head of his.

Before he answers, he shoots back all of the dark liquor in his glass, needing it for whatever else may go on that day. “He was right. Call me for anything, ya may need sweetheart.” Joel whispers, low and slow, sending a cool spike down your spine.

You suck in a quiet breath while his words stick to you— like your thighs would stick to a leather seat after sitting down for too long. Your pulse throbs in your throat. Was he just confirming what your dad had told you to do; to call him whenever you may need it? Or were you reading too much into it all…just because your feelings for him were running a little too wild? 

“So, thought ya didn’t live in Texas any more? Some fancy school or job, your dad mentioned one time or ‘nother.” Joel breaks through the silence you had left in the open, bringing you back to the moment with him.

You take another sip off your water before giving him a small nod. “Yep. Just came back to visit him. Bein’ a good daughter and all.”

“Hmm, a good daughter…” Joel mutters to himself and if you two weren’t so close, you probably wouldn’t have heard him. You can’t help but think what he could mean by that but you’re not going to bring it up…yet. 

“Anyway, I’m only here for a few weeks, and of course on my vacation my car decides to break down. Just my luck huh,” You sigh. “And my budget doesn’t allow for car troubles so I’m really hoping you can fix it.” 

“Budget?” Joel hums, glancing down at his empty glass, most likely debating to get another drink or not. “And you were gonna call a tow truck on a budget?” Joel says with that teasing tone of his. 

“Well…yeah, I guess if I had to.” You respond with a shrug, smiling over at him. 

Joel chuckles, his gaze casted into the depths of his glass as he fiddles with the cup while he speaks. “No doubt you could swindle your way outta some trouble if ya had to.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tease right back, taking the chance to inch closer to him. 

Joel clears his throat, as if he hadn’t expected to say what he said in the first place and just got caught. Now he was struggling to come up with the words to justify exactly why he said what he said. “Uh, well ya know,” Joel starts, stopping in his search at the bottom of his glass, his summer gaze returning to look over at you. His eyes tenderly move along your body; following every curve and dip as if it were his fingers trailing your skin instead. It feels like an eternity, him just looking at you, but in reality it probably only lasts for a second too long. “Lookin’ all pretty like that. Just sayin’ you could get away with anything if ya wanted to hun.” He says, all hushed and soft. 

A storm was absolutely brewing now and suddenly you’re glad to have worn that summer floral dress you had bought ages ago. 

You wait for a heartbeat, his gaze still licking flames across your body, before you reach out to him with a gentle but firm hand. You press your fingers into his exposed forearm, making a little circle against his tan skin to mimic him from earlier. 

And for some reason, you were far bolder than you had ever been in your life as you took another step closer to the older man, skimming your fingers further along his skin, batting pretty eyelashes in his direction. 

“Anything?” You whisper, just loud enough for him and only him to hear. Didn’t matter if no one else was home, you wanted to make sure it was for him. 

It was a good sign when he didn’t immediately jerk away or start yelling for you to get out. His breath catches in his throat this time and you watch as his chest begins to rise and fall as you stand dangerously close to him. Standing in the shadow of his frame, being almost swallowed up as he towers over you. 

“Darlin’” Joel finally utters, glancing down his nose at you, his fingers twitching at his sides; as if he’s trying to hold himself back from embracing you. “You know that’s not a good idea.” 

You shrug a little, pushing your fingers just underneath the curl of his shirt sleeve, touching the very beginning to the thick of his bicep. “Why not? It’s just us.” 

“You know why,” Joel protests softly. “I’m twice your age. And I’m your father’s friend.” 

“And yet…you’re not moving away,” You whisper, making it a point to squeeze his bicep. Your eyes trail from his gaze to the plump of his lips, lingering just long enough for him to notice, before you glance all the way back up to his eyes. “Let me repay you for coming to my rescue.” 

He doesn’t speak, having been caught and now his argument was quickly crumbling into almost nothing. 

To give him a little encouragement, your fingers trail back down to his wrist and you guide his hand to the edge of your skirt, pushing his fingers just slightly under your dress and against the thick of your thigh. “C’mon…Joel.” You hum his name all sweet like honey and it finally breaks him. 

“Fuck,” Joel curses under his breath as he sweeps you up. The hand on your thigh opens up and curls around you, dragging you into the front of his chest. His other hand settles against the curve of your neck as he comes crashing down onto you like a wave. 

He presses his lips into yours in a hot and heavy kiss. His tongue is already darting along the thick of your bottom lip– desperate and needy— just like you’ve been since the second you saw him bent over your car. 

“Dammit, you…” Joel pants against your lips. “I was tryin’ so hard…” He groans, lifting your hips into his own with his single hand. “You and that damn dress and the way you stare at me, Christ.” Joel fumbles, shifting his hand along your body. His hand grabbing your ass in a tight grip, his calm and collected self long, long gone now. He squeezes your ass, eating up the moan that tumbles from your lips into his. “Wanna hear that pretty little voice callin’ my damn name s’more.” 

“Joel.” You breathe his name and it makes him groan again. It’s deep and raspy, sends a vibration to the very tips of your fingers.

His knee bumps into yours, knocking your legs to part to allow him space between your thighs. The flat of his thigh presses right into the spot where you’re quickly coming to yearn for him. You grind into the thick of his thigh, mewling into the softness of his mouth. You were already far too needy, dripping through your underwear and smearing against his jeans.

Joel groans at the increasing wetness slicking his thigh and his fingers grip just a little harder along your skin. His teeth grab hold of your bottom lip, gently pulling on the plumpness, before his tongue is replacing his teeth with a wet swipe.  

“Taste s’good sweetheart.” He whispers with a chuckle. “Been wantin’ this all damn day.” 

You shudder at his words— at least it was comforting to know that since he showed up in the middle of nowhere to save you; you weren’t the only one looking at him in a new light. 

You needed more than just a little dry humping and hot make out session to be satisfied though— especially concerning the risk of…everything. Your fingers once gripping onto the thick of his biceps trail down to the front of his pants, fiddling with his belt. 

But his own hand quickly grabs your wrist the second you attempt to undo his belt.

Startled, Joel breaks the kiss, panting roughly while his gaze settles onto your flushed face. “We shouldn’t.” Joel mumbles, shaking his head just a little. Trying to talk the both of you out of doing something that could potentially ruin a lot of things. Kissing could be excused but anything else after was not so easily explained or forgiven. “I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t…not with an old man like me.” Joel counters through clenched teeth. 

“Joel,” You softly utter his name like a prayer. “I want you so fucking bad right now, I don’t care. And I know it’s not just me.”

“This is a bad idea…” Joel groans as he stares down at you; his composure slowly coming undone once again as his grip around your wrist is slowly loosening up.

Funny how you had told yourself that exact same thing too. But now you really didn’t care; no obstacle could get in your way when your cunt was throbbing his name. “Slow and steady…” You whisper his earlier words back to him. “You lead, remember? I’ll do what you say Joel…” 

Joel hesitates, clearly battling his inner thoughts. He could have you, right then and there– in all his desperation, need, and desire pent up for you. But he was your dad’s friend and if he ever found out…it would end far too many good relationships. 

“Just…a little more.” Joel finally huffs, crumbling like sand as his lips return back to yours in a last-ditch effort to calm all of his worrying thoughts. And it helps when you melt right back into the kiss.

Your fingers return to fidgeting with his belt buckle, trying to strip him as quickly as you possibly could just in case he changed his mind. Your hips moving faster, grinding heavier against his thigh. His name tastes sweet as it rolls off your tongue as you manage to undo that damned buckle. Your fingers work wonder’s undoing the rest of his jeans. Fingers flicking the button open and the zipper comes down with just a small tug of his jeans. But your fingers don’t stop in the slightest as they seek out what you’re really after. 

Joel helps ever so slightly, shimming his jeans down to his thighs, giving you the room to shove his underwear down and finally set him free. 

You immediately wrap a hand around his hardened shaft. Fingers brushing up along to the very tip and you tremble at how wet he is. Leaking across the flat of your thumb with just a single touch. 

Joel deeply groans, breaking the kiss again and glancing down to watch your hand stroke him. Cursing himself inside his mind for being so pathetic and hard with just a little bit of touching and a few kisses— acting as if he was a fresh twenty year old about to get laid for the first time, all over again. 

“Just a little…” Joel whispers, mostly to himself, continuing to try and convince himself that it was all going to be alright if it was just a little at a time. 

Your hand continues to sweep across the entire curve of his throbbing cock, squirming a little under his watchful gaze. 

“Joel,” You whine his name, grinding harshly into his thigh again. You were soaking now; smearing across his jeans, leaving behind a desperate trail of need. 

“S’alright baby, I gotcha,” Joel responds softly, picking up your needy little tone. His fingers slip from beneath your dress, just to grab the hem of the fabric, yanking the skirt up high. You scramble with your free hand to grab your dress, keeping it up high for him so his own fingers can work on pleasing you. 

Thick digits slide down against the seam of your soaked panties and above the pleasure ringing in your ears, you can hear Joel chuckle at your apparent neediness. 

“Fuckin’ soaked baby,” Joel hums, swiping his fingers against your core once more. “This wet for an old man like me?” He adds before he yanks your underwear to the side. 

Calloused fingers travel through your slick folds, his fingers circling around the sensitive nub. Joel chuckles again at the whine that you try to hold back before he’s pressing a thick digit inside your velvet walls. 

You gasp his name, quick and harsh as he begins to thrust into the slickness of your cunt. Your hand moves faster along his shaft, trying to keep up with his pace as he fingers you. Your legs open just a little wider on instinct, allowing him more space between.

His fingers plummet into the seam of your cunt, rapid and a little sloppy but it gets the job done more than effectively. The lewd noises echoing inside the room from the slick of his fingers pumping in and out of you, normally would leave you an embarrassed mess but with a single curl of his finger, those thoughts immediately are swept away. 

His pace quickens and before you have time to react, he’s adding a second finger into the depths of your pussy; stretching you out, guiding you to a close, burning ledge. 

“Shit, Joel!” You sob, open mouth, tears flicking to the corners of your eyes. Your hand stutters but Joel doesn’t mind, his hips thrust forward, grinding the full weight of himself into your grasp.

Even in your haze you manage to shift your hand to point him directly where his fingers disappear inside your seam. “Want you right here, Joel, please. Please, I need it.” You cry, nudging the tip of his cock into your clit. 

Joel growls, deep from within his chest, like a wild animal claiming its prey. His hips stutter just a little, pressing heavier into your clit. But he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. 

“No. No, that’s…off limits,” He groans even as he continues to nudge his head into your cunt. 

“Joel,” You whine but Joel shakes his head, curling his fingers inside to send a strike of lightning along your spine. 

“No. Not this time baby,” Joel coos in a soft, luring voice. Trying to tell himself more than he was warning you.

“Just, ah, the tip then please, please.” You whine, clenching around his fingers still stuffing inside your core. “Please. Just wanna feel you, just enough.” You pathetically beg. His fingers weren’t enough, even just a little bit of his thick head pressing inside you would solve all your problems. 

It’s Joel’s turn to softly whimper after you speak. “The tip,” He repeats, tasting your words on his tongue. “Just the tip.” He says again, finally deciding that just a little bit more was enough. His thick fingers slip out from your inner walls and you feel empty without him. As if your body had been made to fit just him and him alone; and with how fast your head was spinning, you didn’t doubt it for a second. 

You nod frantically as he accepts just using the tip of his head. You grab hold of his shoulder and squeeze it tight, preparing for what comes next. 

Joel takes his hand covered in your slick and wraps it around the base of his shaft. His fingers tangle and nudge against yours; and together you move over his entire cock, coating all of him in the remaining wetness on his fingers. 

He takes a smaller step into you, close enough to smother you entirely. He slots himself right into the slit of your cunt, dragging every inch of his shaft through your soaking wet folds. 

You shiver as he drags himself against you, gripping his shoulder just a little tighter as a mind numbing wave of pleasure races through you. You angle your head ever so slightly to kiss up along his neck, panting against his skin with every kiss you try to place. 

“Fuck…you’re droolin’ all over me sweetheart.” Joel groans, thrusting his hips forward again. He stares where the two of you connect, pupils blown and mouth slightly agape as he watches with awe how he disappears between you. The hand not guiding his cock against you hooks around the crook of your knee, bringing your hips into his. Joel opens your legs and in one fell swoop he slips inside your sloppy seam; and as promised, just the tip. 

When he presses the tip finally inside of you, it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You gasp for air, digging your nails into the thick of his shoulder. His name bubbles up into your throat but it never leaves your lips. Your thighs tremble just as much as your bottom lip does with his entrance into your aching cunt. 

Joel’s grip on your knee is sure to leave bruises but god if he asked, you’d tattoo them on your body. To remind him, and only him, that you belonged to him. 

His entire body shakes as he forces himself to remain totally still. He grunts through clenched teeth as he wills himself not to move further inside you; no matter how badly he wants to slam his hips forward with the way you suck so eagerly on just his tip— he refuses to do so. And it takes every ounce of his willpower not to thrust forward.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath. “‘S tight. You’re so tight, baby.” He adds with a slight whimper to his voice, eyes still heavily staring where the two of you connect. Hips sliding back, dragging the length of his cock out, before digging forward again.

You don’t answer, can’t answer; all you can think of is how fucking good he’s making you feel, even with just the tip.

When he finally sets a good pace, his thrusts are sharp but shallow and not near enough to truly satisfy every inch of your needy core but you’ll take it…until next time. Next time, he’s fucking you into the goddamn mattress until you pass out. 

You try your best to move your hips in sync with his shallow thrusts but Joel quickly shuts that down with his hand moving to grip your hip. When you manage to look up at him, he just weakly shakes his head a little. 

“No.” He mutters, sweat dripping off the high of his eyebrow. “If you move like that I’ll want more than this…” He admits with a flutter to his eyes. 

You groan but nod nonetheless. “Next time.” You huff with a hoarse voice. 

Joel chuckles a little and nods right back at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Next time.” He mimics before returning to dig into your core. Your dress bunches under his grasp and he uses it just a little bit to keep himself grounded and you from moving. 

Your body is raging like a storm beneath your skin with how quick your orgasm is rising to greet you. And you’re almost sure if he fully pressed his cock into every inch of your sensitive pussy right then and there, you’d make the worst mess. You’d soak your dress and every inch of his jeans and boots. And while you want him so badly all the way, deep inside, kissing your womb– you’re a little thankful he wasn’t. Didn’t want to embarrass yourself too badly, this time anyway. 

“Joel,” You utter, stars blossoming across your vision with your impending orgasm burning inside your lower tummy. 

“Shh, I know darlin’.” Joel hums back. He doesn’t have to say anything about his own orgasm with the way his cockhead is beginning to swell inside of you. 

For a split second you almost want to beg him to cum inside, wanting to feel him warm and deep inside every inch of your trembling walls but you could already guess what the answer to that was going to be, so you keep your lips sealed. 

Your mind turns fuzzy as his shallow thrust turns chaotic and ruthless, stretching you with every drag. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle and break but his strong hands hold you up anyway. He wanted you to finish, wanted to feel you clench and flutter around his tip while he considered turning you around, bending you over and really getting the chance to stretch you out. 

“Baby girl,” Joel drawls, low and slow, pressing kiss after kiss into the crown of your head. His chest rises and falls with every rapid breath he sucks between his teeth. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy…not gonna last. Want you to come for darlin’, all over my cock, can you do that baby?” 

He doesn’t even have to ask twice. You can no longer find your voice to form any other word besides “please” as the heat of your womb blossoms. The warmth explodes through every inch of your body. Your back arches with your orgasm, hips stuttering and if it wasn’t for Joel’s big hand on your hip, you might have swallowed him entirely by accident. Your chest presses directly up into his and you can taste the tip of his name coating your tongue as you come all across his cockhead. 

He waits until you’re entirely spent before he allows himself to come as well. He lets go of your hip, grabbing the thick of his base once more, and drags himself out of your tight cunt at the last second before he smears his mark across you.

White, hot spurts of cum splash against your cunt with every stroke of his hand. With a deep groan, he presses his tip into your clit, leaving his mark right up against the curve of your pussy. His hand quickly moves along his entire shaft, pushing out every last drop of his cum into the slit of your quivering pussy. Your name is whispered so softly in time with every jerk of his hand, it leaves you lightheaded and whimpering for Joel.

When he’s finished, his own damn head is spinning. He’s out of breath, staring at the mess he’s made with half lidded eyes. He swipes his thumb through the stain he’s made, chuckling quietly at how much sticks to your skin. 

“Damn sweetheart,” Joel hums in approval, shivering at the sight of you covered in his mark. “You got so much outta me darlin’, like I’m fuckin’ in my twenties again.” 

You’re slowly coming down from your high when he speaks but his words make you laugh alongside him. You were no better than he was; that was one of the best orgasms you’d ever had in your life. The pleasure still pounding inside your ears like a second heartbeat. 

“Yeah? Imagine what it’ll be like next time.” You whisper, letting your full body weight fall back onto the kitchen counter he had previously backed you up into.  

Joel quiets then, letting silence stretch between the two of you like a dry, humid summer. You can’t read his gaze and with the silence accompanying him, you’re not sure you want to read it anyway. But it’s gone quickly and he returns to that softness you’ve seen all day long. 

“Next time?” Joel hums, threading his fingers through your sticky cunt. “Next time, you’re not even gonna be able to fuckin’ walk, sweetheart.”

@ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐙𝐄𝐕𝐑𝐑𝐀 | 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖/𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

@lowrisemiller

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’ve done anything like this before but maybe reader who’s feeling insecure in her swimsuit with Steve 🩵

cw: reader's swimsuit is compared to underwear, reader is insecure about her body, Steve is a silly boy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 735 words

From beneath the surface of the water, you hear a voice. Deep, resonant. Your heart skips pleasantly as you kick upwards. 

You crest the surface to find Steve halfway to you. He’s squinting in the sun, one hand brought up to shade his face. There’s something indescribably but undeniably handsome to you about Steve’s frown. It brings those ultra-expressive brows of his down and together, causing his lips to purse and his jaw—you don’t know how, but you swear—to appear more defined. Or maybe it’s just that there’s usually a sort of exasperated care about the look, and you like to think that care could be directed at you.

“Hey,” you say, the word curving with your smile. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He crouches by the edge of the pool, leaning down for a kiss. Afterwards, you set your chin on your crossed arms to look up at him, lips buzzing. Steve touches your face with a finger, unsticking a piece of hair that’s become slicked to your cheek and combing it back in with the rest. “They’re showing Jaws at the movies for a buck a piece. You wanna go?” 

“Right now?” 

“In an hour. Plenty of time to get dried off and grab snacks.” 

You kick your legs idly, pondering. Really, nothing sounds better to your sun-warmed brain than showering and putting on some comfortable clothes to go sit in a dark room. Steve will probably have you half in his lap by the end credits, too, it being a scary movie. 

“Sure,” you say. “Want to hang out here while I rinse off and stuff?” 

Steve grins; it’s nearly as handsome as his frown, enough to send your stomach into fits. “Sounds good to me.” He reaches for your hands to help you out. 

You start to take them automatically, but hesitate. You and Steve are pretty comfortable with each other, but you haven’t had your clothes off in front of him. The bikini you have on now is really no different than underwear. You glance down at the body currently distorted by rippling pool water, insecure.

“What’s up?” Steve asks at your pause. 

You feel trapped. There’s really no way out of this for you. You could ask him to go inside so he doesn’t see you and you know he’d do it, but that feels worse. The only thing scarier than him seeing you like this might be confessing how worried you are that he won’t like what he sees. 

If Steve isn’t acting like it’s a big deal, you decide, neither will you. 

“Nothing,” you say, putting your hands in his. Steve hauls you out of the water without another delay. 

It’s not a pretty process. Your back bends forward as you emerge, tummy sticking out and water streaming off you. In your mind it glistens most obviously in the places you’d like not to show, the rolls and curvatures you’d rather Steve’s eyes sailed past unseeingly. You get one knee up onto the warm tiles surrounding the pool, letting his hands go so you can crawl the rest of the way up on your own. As you straighten, you fight hard not to bend your shoulders and cross your arms over yourself. 

But Steve has already turned away. Not in repulsion or some attempt at preserving your modesty, just to grab the towel you’d set nearby. He wraps it around your shoulders. 

Your stomach flips at the appreciative glance you catch him dropping to your chest. Steve notices you noticing; his cheekbones tinge a pretty pink. 

“Sorry,” he says hastily. 

You wrap the towel around yourself, feeling rather flushed yourself. “It’s okay.” 

“I just, I—you know, we haven’t—” 

“I know,” you say. “It’s fine.” 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You’ve never seen Steve so flustered. It makes it difficult to feel very self-conscious yourself, a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. “Like, if you don’t want me to see, but you’re—you—obviously, you’re--” He gestures helplessly at your body, now mostly covered by the towel, then looks like he regrets that, too. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m going to go inside, okay?” 

“Okay.” Your smile is irrepressible, now. “Steve, it’s really fine. You’re good.” “You go shower.” Steve turns around, walking face-first into your back door. He continues talking as though this doesn’t register. “I’ll be in the kitchen, just—not thinking about—uh, yeah.”

[yuuhwa]

"You Scared the Hero"

Pairing: Baku (Park Humin) x FemReader Genre: Romance, humor, action (light), first meeting Note: This is my first fanfic, so forgive my mistakes (English is not my first language)

It started out like any other late-night walk. Quiet streets, cool air, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets.

You weren’t scared. You knew how to handle yourself.

But of course, the universe always had to throw in a few idiots.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" one of them shouted from across the street.

You sighed without slowing your pace.

Three guys. All talk, probably. But talk had hands sometimes. And one of them decided to use his.

He grabbed your wrist.

Big mistake.

You yanked him forward, using his own momentum to slam your elbow into his chest. He crumpled with a choked grunt. The second tried to swing at you — wide and stupid. You ducked, kicked his legs out, and shoved him headfirst into a mailbox. The third guy took one look at you, at his friends on the ground, and noped out of there faster than you could blink.

You shook out your hands, adjusted your sleeve, and turned—

—Only to see a guy across the street, frozen mid-step, with wide eyes and a literal mouth hanging open.

"…WHOA!"

You raised an eyebrow.

He jogged across to you, almost tripping over his own foot in the process. Hoodie half-zipped, cheeks pink, grinning like a kid who just saw an explosion in real life.

“Did you just—YOU TOTALLY—oh my god, you threw that guy into the MAILBOX!”

You blinked. “…Yeah?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. Loudly. “That was so COOL! Like, not even in a ‘I’ve-seen-that-in-a-movie’ way, but like—real life badassery!”

You stared at him. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Are you okay? You just solo’d those guys like a damn anime character!”

You snorted.

He held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry—just. That was amazing. I was literally about to step in but then you just—boom, bam, goodbye, losers. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Thanks, I guess.”

He squinted at you. “Wait, wait—you’re not, like, a trained fighter or something, right? You don’t do judo? MMA? Secret vigilante?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just grew up rough.”

He nodded like that made total sense. “Yeah. Okay. Cool cool cool.” Then, “I’m Baku, by the way.”

You tilted your head. “You always this talkative?”

“Only when I’m impressed. Which is… now. Very much.”

You chuckled. “Y/n.”

He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Y/n, certified badass.”

You started walking, and to your surprise, he walked with you.

“Where you headed?” he asked.

“Home.”

“Wanna company? I promise I’m harmless. You’ve proven you could fold me like a towel anyway.”

You looked at him sideways. “You’re persistent.”

“I’m charming,” he corrected.

You laughed. “Alright, charming. You can walk me home.”

He fist-pumped the air like he just won a game. “Yes! I mean—cool. Totally normal thing to be excited about. Yep.”

As you walked side by side under the quiet city lights, you caught him sneaking glances at you every now and then.

“What?” you finally asked.

He grinned sheepishly. “Nothing. Just wondering if you’d teach me that mailbox move someday.”

[fierceawakening]

The thing that baffles me about the Christian Right is there’s a bit in the Bible that says “take up your cross and follow me.”

When I rediscovered the religion of my youth and decided it was useful to me after all, I took that bit seriously. What’s my cross? What am I scared of? What do I know is a problem, but feel afraid to fix?

I took a job at a homeless shelter in the heart of the inner city because I’d heard all my life Those People are too scary to try to help.

I’ve been in the job a year. Turns out I don’t think I want to stay… but I learned an immeasurable amount from looking at myself very intensely and asking “what, right now, is my cross? What do I need to see for myself rather than run from?”

In particular, I learned a WHOLE lot about what people passively absorb about "people who commit crimes," and how none of it is true for everyone, and even the bits that make some sense are warped into near uselessness because "people who commit crimes" is every bit as diverse a group as "people with blond hair" or something.

Also there's a lot of assuming people commit crimes when they don't, simply because they resemble or supposedly resemble people who do.

I haven’t stopped asking myself that question about my cross though, and I don’t intend to start. Even if my next job is something I explicitly choose for less stress… there’s still more that needs fixing, there’s still fear in my heart, and there’s still ways I can challenge myself to face my fears in pursuit of making the world a little better.

In accordance with my religion, because WHY BOTHER TO HAVE A RELIGION if not to help you do that? It’s not obligatory. Conservatives will be big mad at me for saying that, but it’s not. I wouldn't bother to have mine if I didn't think it was useful for that.

I get the strong feeling when I interact with Dominionists that if I asked them “so you prayed the Sinner’s Prayer*, but then how did you take up your cross and follow Him?” I’d either get blank stares or “we as a group are so persecuted waah.”

This vexes me considerably. What is YOUR cross, and how do YOU challenge yourself to take it up? If YOU want to be a Christian, YOU should be more interested in living it than in your weird fears around hell.

*overrated. I prefer the one with the “as we forgive those who trespass against us” bit in it, bit that probably sounds a little too “borders aren’t important” to the red hat guys…

American organized religion is horrible.

The Christian Right are deplorables.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which this is the continuation

It’s nothing at first.

Just a tremor.

A flutter beneath your fingers.

You're plating dessert in the restaurant kitchen—dark chocolate torte, orange zest, vanilla bean cream—and when you reach to steady the plate, your hand slips.

The plate crashes to the floor. Shatters.

You flinch.

Not because it broke. Because you couldn’t stop it.

You stare at your hand. Still now. Fine, probably.

You flex your fingers.

They respond, a little slower than they should.

“Just tired,” you murmur to yourself. “Didn’t sleep enough.”

You clean it up and move on.

But it stays with you.

The slip. The feeling.

A week later, it happens again.

This time, it’s your arm—holding a sauté pan. Your grip gives for a second. Just enough to lose control of the wrist. You catch it, just in time.

But Paige sees.

You’re cooking for her at home, barefoot in your tiny kitchen, humming along to an old song playing from your phone.

She doesn’t say anything until you set the food down.

“Are you okay?”

You freeze. “Yeah. Just dropped it for a sec.”

“I saw your hand shake.”

You try to laugh. “Babe, I’ve been on my feet for nine hours today.”

She nods, slowly. “I know. Just...you didn’t look tired. You looked surprised.”

You smile, tight. “I’m fine.”

She watches you a beat too long.

Then lets it go.

That night, you wake up with your fingers numb.

They tingle like static.

You shake your hand out under the blanket, trying to coax life back into it. The feeling returns after a while. But your heart doesn’t settle as easily.

Paige is asleep beside you, breathing slow and deep. One hand curled against your hip.

You stare at the ceiling and don’t sleep for the rest of the night.

A few days later, you cut yourself during prep.

It’s a tiny slip. Barely a nick.

But you don’t feel it.

You look down at the blood on your finger and realize it’s there before the pain registers.

And that?

That terrifies you.

You excuse yourself to the back. Wrap the cut. Wash your hands twice. Grip the edge of the sink until your knuckles go white.

Something is wrong.

You know it.

But you don’t tell her.

Not yet.

Not when things are this good.

Not when she keeps showing up with new flowers. New books. New places she wants to take you.

You lie by omission.

It’s not fear of the truth.

It’s fear of what it will do to her.

You notice her watching you more now.

Out of the corner of her eye.

Lingering glances.

She never asks again.

But you can feel the question waiting in her throat.

And you keep pretending not to notice.

Because if you speak it out loud...

It becomes real.

It starts to become routine—the not-feeling.

At first, it's just your fingers. Slight numbness, a tingling sensation like they'd fallen asleep and never quite woke up. You start dropping things more often. Knives. Spoons. Your favorite mug from Barcelona, which shatters across the kitchen tile. You sweep it up in silence and tell Paige it slipped.

She doesn’t believe you.

But she doesn’t push.

Not yet.

Then it moves to your legs.

One morning, you wake to pins and needles down your right calf. You laugh it off—slept on it weird. It happens. But two hours later, in the middle of breakfast rush, your knee buckles.

You grab the counter. No one notices.

No one but her.

She’s there again, as usual, sitting at her spot by the kitchen, sipping coffee with one hand and tapping a finger to the rim with the other. Your eyes meet. Her face stills.

She doesn’t say anything then.

But that night, when she comes over, she doesn’t just kiss you hello.

She checks your knee.

You pull away too quickly.

“Don’t,” she says. “Let me.”

You do.

She rubs it gently, pressing in spots you didn’t realize hurt. When you wince, her eyes flash with worry.

“I’m calling someone,” she says.

“No.”

You say it too fast. Too sharp.

She sits back. “Then you call someone.”

You’re quiet.

She stands, pacing now. “You keep saying it’s fine. That you’re just tired. But you flinched when I touched you.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” Her voice trembles. “And I’ve been trying not to bring it up again, but you’re not okay. You haven’t been for weeks.”

You say nothing.

Because you have no argument left.

The next day, you call a doctor.

You don’t tell Paige the full truth. Just that it’s probably nothing. Just a precaution.

She insists on coming anyway.

You try to say no.

She looks at you like it breaks her to hear you say it.

“I’m going,” she says. “Even if I have to sit in the hallway.”

You nod.

You let her.

The morning of the appointment, your hands don’t stop shaking.

You can barely hold your toothbrush.

You press your palms to the bathroom sink and stare at yourself in the mirror.

You don’t look sick.

You look tired.

You look scared.

She finds you like that.

Wraps her arms around you from behind.

“You don’t have to be brave right now,” she whispers into your neck. “Just be honest.”

You close your eyes.

And for the first time, you let yourself fall back into her.

The waiting room is cold.

Sterile.

The clock ticks too loud.

Paige holds your hand the whole time, her thumb tracing the back of your palm in quiet loops. Neither of you speak. You’re both afraid of what you’ll say if you do.

The nurse calls your name.

You stand.

Paige starts to let go.

You grip her tighter.

“Come with me,” you whisper.

She nods, already moving.

And together, you walk toward the truth.

The exam room is cold.

Too white. Too clean. Everything smells like disinfectant and endings.

You sit on the padded table, hands clenched in your lap, fingers twitching from nerves or tremors—you can’t tell anymore. Paige sits beside you, elbows on her knees, her leg bouncing restlessly.

You haven’t looked at each other in minutes.

You don’t know how.

The door opens.

A neurologist steps in. Late 40s. Kind eyes. A clipboard she doesn’t look at because she already knows.

“Thanks for waiting,” she says, gently. “I know this isn’t easy.”

You nod. You feel like your body’s on mute.

She sits down across from you. No desk between you. No barrier.

Just truth.

“We ran a series of tests,” she begins. “Reflex responses, nerve conduction, blood panels, muscle response analysis. Based on the patterns we’re seeing and the progression of symptoms you’ve described…”

Her voice softens.

“…it appears that you have a rare degenerative neuromuscular disorder.”

The words fall like soft thunder.

You blink.

“I—sorry, I don’t… what does that mean?”

She nods like she expected the question.

“It means your nerves are misfiring. Gradually failing to communicate with your muscles. Over time, this can cause muscle weakness, numbness, difficulty with motor control. Eventually, it may affect your mobility. And in rarer cases—respiration.”

You feel Paige freeze beside you.

The floor tilts. The room stays still.

“How long?” you ask.

The doctor hesitates.

“We can’t give an exact timeline. But based on the current progression… twelve to eighteen months. Maybe less.”

You try to breathe.

You try to stay still.

You try not to fall apart.

“Is it curable?” Paige’s voice is barely a whisper.

The doctor doesn’t sugarcoat it.

“No.”

Silence.

Total. Crushing. Still.

You nod.

You don’t cry.

Not yet.

You just say, “What happens next?”

“We manage the symptoms. Physical therapy. Lifestyle adjustments. Support. There are experimental treatments, but I want to be honest—this diagnosis is life-altering. It’s okay if you need time to process it.”

Time.

You were just told you don’t have time.

The irony is so cruel it almost makes you laugh.

Almost.

You walk out in silence.

Paige’s hand never leaves yours.

You reach the parking lot and stand beside the car, unsure of what to do.

She turns to you.

And you say, voice low, “Say it.”

She doesn’t ask what you mean.

She already knows.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, steady and sure.

You nod once, and then…

The tears come.

You try to hold them in, but they crash like waves—hot, hard, silent at first, then broken sobs. Your knees buckle. She catches you.

She holds you against her chest like she can protect you from the words that just changed your life.

She rocks you gently, whispering, “we’re not done. We are not done. You hear me?”

You nod into her neck, fists clenched in her hoodie.

She’s shaking too.

But she never lets go.

That night, you lie in bed, your head on her chest, and she reads the pamphlet they gave you.

Her voice doesn’t break until she gets to the line about quality of life.

You reach for her hand.

“Hey,” you say.

She looks at you.

“I want it to be a beautiful life. No matter how long.”

She chokes on a breath.

Then whispers, “Then let’s make every day count.”

And in that moment, the countdown begins.

But so does the rest of your life.

With her.

You don’t go back to the restaurant the next day.

Or the day after that.

You lie in bed with the curtains drawn, lights off, her sweatshirt wrapped around you like armor. The city moves outside your window, alive and indifferent. You stay still, afraid that if you move too much, everything might come undone.

Paige stays with you.

She makes tea she doesn’t drink and toast you don’t touch.

She doesn’t try to fill the silence.

She just stays.

The third morning, you finally speak.

Lying beside her, eyes on the ceiling, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want people to look at me different.”

She shifts beside you. “They won’t.”

“They will.”

She hesitates.

“Maybe,” she admits. “But I won’t.”

You nod, because she means it.

You believe her.

And yet, part of you still aches.

You go back to the restaurant on day five.

Only for a few hours. Only to touch the space again.

It feels different.

You try to chop onions, but your fingers twitch, and the blade slips again.

You stare at the cutting board, at the uneven mess you used to slice with your eyes closed.

Then you feel her.

Paige, stepping in behind you, steady hands wrapping around your wrists.

“Let me help,” she says.

You let her.

That night, she sets up a list on your phone. You don’t know why.

Until she shows you the title.

“Things We Still Get to Do.”

You scroll.

1. Slow dance barefoot in the kitchen 2. Watch the stars somewhere with no streetlights 3. Cook something with five ingredients or less 4. Take a picture every morning, no matter what 5. Laugh at least once a day 6. Fall in love every night like it’s the first time 7. Tell the truth, even when it’s scary 8. Let it be beautiful—even the hard parts

You blink at the screen.

“You made this?” you whisper.

She nods. “I want to make it count.”

Tears sting your eyes. You don’t try to hide them this time.

You reach for her, and she holds you so tightly, like she’s afraid if she lets go, time might take you sooner.

The next morning, you wake up to a Polaroid beside your pillow.

It’s you—messy hair, sleepy eyes, wrapped in her hoodie.

She’s scribbled something underneath.

#1: Still falling.

You laugh through tears.

And for the first time since the diagnosis, you feel it again.

Joy.

The days don’t get easier.

But they get fuller.

Paige makes you take walks, even when your legs feel like jelly.

You teach her how to make pasta from scratch, even when your fingers cramp halfway through and she ends up kneading the dough.

You start writing letters late at night, tucked away in a drawer.

Just in case.

But you don’t tell her that yet.

Because for now, she’s still looking at you like forever hasn’t changed shape.

And for now, that’s enough.

Your phone dings with a text.

Paige: Pack a bag. Three days. Somewhere warm.

You reply with one word.

You: Why?

She replies with three.

Paige: Because we can.

You fly out the next morning.

Paige insists on handling the tickets, the hotel, everything. She says you deserve to rest. To show up without a plan. To just be.

You haven’t been on a plane since the diagnosis.

There’s a small part of you that’s afraid—afraid your legs will fail walking down the jet bridge, afraid your fingers will cramp when trying to buckle your seatbelt.

But when you step onto the plane, she’s already waiting in your row, sunglasses on her head and your favorite snack in her lap.

“I got you the window seat,” she says, patting it like a secret.

You sit. Breathe. Let your hand rest on hers the whole way through takeoff.

And when the sky opens wide and blue outside your window, you let yourself believe, maybe there’s still time.

You land in Santa Fe.

Not a big city. Not loud. Just sunlight and desert and color. Paige picked it because she said you once mentioned it in passing—something about the food, the sky, the art.

“I remember the way your eyes lit up,” she said. “I wanted to see that again.”

You stay in a little adobe house tucked behind a row of sunflowers. No plans. No itinerary.

Just the two of you.

Just this.

That first day, you explore the streets slowly.

Paige lets you set the pace.

You walk arm-in-arm through art galleries and markets, pointing out ceramics and woven blankets and tiny painted tiles.

You laugh when she tries to flirt with you in broken Spanish to impress a street vendor.

You take a photo in front of a wall covered in butterflies. She says you look like you belong there.

That night, you eat on a rooftop.

The food is spicy. The air is warm.

Paige lifts her glass and says, “To us.”

You clink yours to hers and say, “To now.”

The next morning, your legs feel like stone.

You can barely lift yourself from the bed.

Panic blooms in your throat.

Paige notices.

She kneels beside you, helps you sit up, presses a cool cloth to your neck.

“It’s okay,” she says, steady as the earth. “We’ll move slow. Or we won’t move at all.”

Tears prick your eyes. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You can’t ruin this.”

She holds your face in her hands.

“You’re the reason this is happening in the first place.”

That afternoon, you sit under a mesquite tree outside your casita, heads resting together as the sun begins to dip.

You hold hands.

You don’t say anything for a long while.

Then Paige whispers, “Thank you for coming with me.”

You lean your head on her shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me.”

She kisses your hair.

And in that moment, you don’t feel sick.

You feel alive.

Not because the illness is gone.

But because you’re choosing joy anyway.

You fall asleep that night with the windows open, the stars overhead, and her whisper in your ear…

“We have time. Maybe not forever. But we have this.”

And this is everything.

You choose to do it all at once.

Not because it’s easier.

But because you know you can’t take repeating it. Not again. Not to every individual face. Not with the way it splinters you each time the words leave your mouth.

So Paige helps.

She organizes the dinner. Just a few people. Your chosen family. Your closest friends. People who deserve the truth because they’ve earned a place in your life.

It’s a small, warm night.

The food is homemade. Your hands tremble too much to chop, so Paige does most of the work, and you sit at the counter giving instructions, watching her move through your kitchen like it’s hers too now.

She catches you staring.

You smile, and she mouths, I got you.

They arrive around seven.

Laughter fills the room fast—your people are good at that. The kind of friends who fall into rhythm like no time has passed. You pour wine. Share plates. Talk about nothing.

You wait until dessert.

Because it’s easier to say something hard when people are still chewing. When their mouths are full and their hearts are open.

Paige squeezes your hand under the table.

You take a breath.

And then you speak.

“I have something to tell you.”

The room stills.

Your voice shakes at first, but you don’t stop.

“I’ve been diagnosed with a rare degenerative disorder. Neuromuscular. It’s progressive. It’s...already progressing.”

No one breathes.

You force yourself to go on.

“There’s no cure. Just management. Time is… limited.”

You don't say the number.

You can't.

One friend starts crying. Another grabs your other hand.

Someone says, “No. That can’t be right.”

Paige speaks for the first time. “It is.”

The silence stretches long.

Then someone says, “What do you need?”

You blink.

“I—I don’t know yet.” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Just...don’t look at me like I’m disappearing.”

One of your oldest friends leans forward.

“You’re still here. So are we.”

Another chimes in, voice thick, “you’re not alone in this.”

And just like that, you’re surrounded.

Hands. Words. Closeness.

You cry again.

This time, not from fear.

But from love.

Later that night, after everyone leaves, you and Paige sit on the couch in silence.

You're curled into her side.

She’s playing with your fingers.

“You did it,” she says softly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you.”

You nod.

Then, barely above a whisper, “I hated saying it out loud.”

She kisses your temple.

“I know.”

You shift so you're facing her.

Her eyes are glassy. Her breath shaky.

“Do you still want to stay?” you ask. Not because you doubt her. But because a part of you still doesn’t feel worthy of someone staying through the storm.

She doesn’t answer right away.

Then she cups your face in both hands.

“Not only do I want to stay,” she says, “I want to marry you.”

You freeze.

She laughs—wet and quiet, full of nerves.

“Shit. That wasn’t how I meant to say it.”

You stare at her.

She stares back.

“I want to marry you,” she repeats, steadier this time. “Not just because of the clock. Not because of fear. But because loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

You inhale sharply, then nod.

“Yes,” you whisper.

And when she kisses you, it tastes like a promise.

Like a vow you haven’t spoken yet.

But will.

Soon.

Paige never thought she’d be the one to propose first.

But then again, she never thought time would become so precious.

It starts two days after that night on the couch—after your whispered yes, after the kiss that tasted like gravity and stars. She’s still holding the echo of your voice in her chest when she starts a list.

A real one. In her notes app.

Proposal Plan: For the Love of My Life

1. Ask their people. 2. Ask my people. 3. Do not freak out. 4. Make it feel like them. 5. Make it feel like home. 6. Remember: it’s not about the time left—it’s about the love we still get to live in.

She stares at that last line for a long time before hitting save.

She starts with your people.

She invites two of your closest friends to the apartment under the pretense of “catching up,” but she can’t keep the secret more than five minutes. She paces the living room while they sit on her couch.

“I want to propose,” she blurts.

They freeze. Then beam.

“Finally,” one of them says.

Paige exhales like she’s been holding her breath for months.

“She’s going to say yes,” the other reassures her.

“She already did,” Paige says quietly. “But I want to ask for real. I want to make it count.”

So they brainstorm. Over snacks. On napkins. With tears and laughter and old photos.

“She’s always loved the garden at that art museum,” one says. “You should start there.”

“And those little string lights she hangs every winter? You could recreate that. Somewhere quiet.”

“She’s been writing letters,” Paige whispers.

They both look at her.

“I haven’t read them,” she adds. “But I know. She hides them in a drawer under the record player. I just... I want her to have something, too.”

They squeeze her hands.

“She’s going to remember this forever,” one of them says.

“No matter how long forever is,” the other finishes.

Then she turns to her own circle.

She calls Nika first.

“I need backup,” she says.

“You’re getting married?!” Nika screams. “Wait—does she know?”

“She kind of knows.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“She said yes already. It’s complicated. I need help.”

So Nika ropes in Azzi. And KK. And even a very confused but deeply supportive Geno, who says, “As long as you don’t get married on the court before a game, I’m thrilled.”

Azzi helps coordinate music.

KK helps pick flowers.

Nika makes a joke about officiating, and Paige writes it down anyway.

She goes to the art museum by herself one morning.

Wanders the garden, fingers brushing the lavender, the stone benches, the little tucked-away arch you once called your portal to peace.

She sees it.

Feels it.

You.

She walks the whole space and says to no one, “This is it.”

That night, she builds it in her head.

The time. The lighting. The way the sun hits right before it sets. The table set beneath that arch. Candles. No music except the wind. Your friends hiding out of sight, waiting. Her jersey in your favorite frame, placed beside the table, just for fun. A quiet corner of the world dressed up in love, all for you.

And then the ring.

She doesn’t go for diamonds.

She picks something smaller.

A stone the color of early morning skies. A band carved with a single word inside, still.

Because that’s what you are.

Still here. Still loving. Still choosing.

No matter the countdown.

The night before, she sleeps at your place.

She holds you tighter than usual.

You notice.

“You okay?” you ask against her chest.

“Always,” she lies.

Because she doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Because this is yours.

Because tomorrow, she’s going to ask.

Not because time is running out.

But because love isn’t.

7:00 a.m.

You wake slowly.

The sunlight crawls across your sheets. The room is warm, familiar, safe. You reach across the bed, expecting to find her.

But she’s not there.

Just the lingering imprint of her warmth and a folded note on the pillow.

Your name is written across it in her looping, messy handwriting.

You sit up. Unfold the paper.

Good morning, beautiful. I had to step out for something. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Wear something soft. Something you feel you in. I’ll come get you before sunset. No questions. Just trust me. –P

You read it three times before smiling.

You press the note to your chest.

Whatever she’s planning, you already know, it’s going to matter.

10:23 a.m.

Paige is in the garden.

She’s crouched under the arch with two of your best friends and Azzi, tying white fabric around the stone pillars. Nika is stringing fairy lights in the trees with Hailey, who keeps mumbling, “This better not short out.”

Your favorite wildflowers are being arranged in glass jars on a small wooden table in the center of the arch—poppies, lavender, sprigs of rosemary and mint.

A single chair waits beside it, facing the sun.

Paige stands back, breath caught in her throat.

“It’s almost too much,” she murmurs.

“No,” your best friend says behind her. “It’s exactly enough.”

She nods.

Then walks to the edge of the path and places the framed jersey beside the tree.

It’s your favorite one of hers.

The one from the first game you ever watched her play.

The one she signed and slipped into your bag when you flew back from Santa Fe.

Still. Always.

12:42 p.m.

You spend the day in quiet wonder.

You water your plants.

You make tea.

You almost call her, twice.

But something in your chest says wait.

It doesn’t feel like waiting in the sad sense.

It feels like holding your breath before something beautiful.

You take a photo in the mirror—just for yourself. Loose dress. Soft sweater. The necklace she gave you last spring.

The caption never gets typed, but if it had one, it would say…

I think today is going to change everything.

3:08 p.m.

Paige checks everything again.

The candles are in place.

The string lights flicker softly.

The music is cued, even if it won’t play unless you both want it.

Your friends are tucked away out of sight, hidden near the museum’s back entrance, watching with quiet awe.

Azzi hugs her.

“You got this,” she whispers.

“I just don’t want to cry before I say it,” Paige mutters.

“You’re gonna cry.”

Nika nods. “Absolutely.”

KK adds, “She’s gonna cry halfway through saying your name.”

Paige rolls her eyes.

Then turns toward the path.

She checks her watch.

Time to go get you.

4:15 p.m.

You open the door, and she’s there.

Standing in your favorite jeans and the jacket you told her she looked best in. Her hair is down. No makeup. Just her.

She smiles like she’s never been more certain of anything.

“You ready?” she asks.

You nod. “For what?”

She grins. “Come find out.”

The car ride is mostly quiet.

She reaches for your hand at every stoplight.

You squeeze it, because something inside you is swelling like a tide.

Not fear.

Not dread.

Something like... yes.

4:47 p.m.

You arrive at the museum garden.

She helps you out of the car and leads you by the hand through a side gate.

And when you turn the corner—

You stop breathing.

Candles.

Flowers.

The arch.

Your chair.

Your friends, hidden but barely, watching with hands over their mouths and tears already in their eyes.

And her.

Paige steps forward, lets go of your hand, and takes one trembling step back.

Her eyes are shining.

The sun is hitting the garden just right—golden, like blessing.

She takes a breath.

Then drops to one knee.

And says your name like a prayer.

You don’t breathe at first.

Not because you’re scared.

Because she’s beautiful like this.

On one knee, in the garden you once called peace, hands trembling as she opens her heart like it’s a letter she’s rewritten a thousand times.

The world stills around you.

All you can hear is her voice.

“I used to think love would find me in a big, dramatic way,” she begins, voice already unsteady. “I thought it would crash through the door and knock me over and leave me breathless.”

She smiles softly, eyes locked on yours.

“But you didn’t crash into me.”

Her hands shake, but she doesn’t look away.

“You showed up. You fed me when I didn’t know I was starving. You made me laugh when I forgot how to. You held space for me before I knew I needed it.”

She takes a breath.

And then another.

“You are not a big, dramatic love. You are steady. Fierce. Quiet in the way the ocean is quiet—you don’t make noise, but you shape the world anyway.”

Your eyes blur.

She presses her lips together, trying to hold it in.

Fails.

A single tear slips down her cheek.

And still, she speaks.

“I know what’s coming. I know we can’t pretend we don’t. But that doesn’t make this any less real. It doesn’t make what I feel any less infinite.”

She opens the ring box.

It’s simple. Beautiful.

The stone glows like the morning sky.

“I don’t want to waste a second. I don’t want to wait until it’s easier or longer or safer.”

Her voice cracks.

“I just want you. For however long we get. One year. One month. One minute.”

You’re crying now.

So is she.

But neither of you break.

“Will you marry me?” she whispers. “Will you be mine, for however long the universe lets us hold this?”

You step forward.

Your knees give a little.

She’s up instantly, catching you.

It makes you both laugh through tears.

You wrap your arms around her neck and bury your face into her shoulder.

You nod.

Hard.

“Yes,” you whisper.

And then louder.

“Yes.”

You pull back just enough to see her, and say it again.

“Yes. For every minute. Every breath. Every heartbeat.”

She kisses you—slow, shaking, sure.

And somewhere, behind the trees, your friends cheer and sob and clap through the heartbreak of something so beautiful, it hurts to witness.

You and Paige don’t move for a while.

You sit together on the garden bench, forehead to forehead.

No rush.

No next step.

Just breath.

Just hands intertwined.

She wipes your tears.

You wipe hers.

Neither of you says forever.

But you both say still.

And in that moment, it’s enough.

[starconstruction]

Training Curve

Tzuyu, Sana + Male Reader

tags: anal, f + m oral, creampie, threesome

Word Count: 3811

You and Sana had very few moments to enjoy each other's company, given the circumstances of her being more than busy, and then when she was free fate would force you to not be. Something you two couldn't change, but you could enjoy the moments that you did have.

That's why you two were stark naked, blanket thrown on the floor, bodies on top of each other, your left hand found her ass, - which was inches away from your face - while your other hand spread open her pink lips, tongue exploring her pussy. Breathing in her sweet scent that mingled with your shower product that she loved to wear, smelling like you was one of her favorite things of dating you.

You had millions of things that you loved about Sana, but in this moment they all fell out of your head. Her mouth swallowing your cock lovingly, tongue swirling around you like the sweetest treat in the world. Lifting her plump lips up and down, you two had created a feedback loop. Moaning into each other's bodies, creating even more pleasure. "Mmh, Sana... You are sucking so fucking good." You moaned, thrusting into her warm mouth.

She didn't go unrewarded, you sped up your pussy devouring, flicking your tongue with purpose. Her taste coating your face with how messy you drank her. But Sana wanted more, mouth pulling off with a perfect pop. "Thanks honey, always such a flatterer, not too bad yourself." She giggled, moving her pussy from your mouth as you whined, "You can go down on me later, I need this cock inside of me, just after a bit more."

Sana held you in her hand, giving kisses from your balls to your tip, up and down, left and right, every single inch was loved by your girlfriend. "Mmh, your cock always tastes so good, just wanna..." She shut herself up, replacing her hand with her heavenly mouth. Shoving every inch of your shaft into her mouth, sucking up and down, every slurp loud and distinctly pleasurable as you whined.

"God, fuck Sana! You are incredible." You moaned, watching her throat your entire cock, the definition of perfect. Her hair falling all over the place, nothing could ruin this moment.

"Hey Sana have you seen my char- Oh my fucking god!" You heard a high pitched wail, looking over to see your mutual friend, Tzuyu, face agape while Sana took your cock out of her mouth.

"Oh, uhhh what do you need?" She asked, Tzuyu's face was flushed, visibly rattled. Sana's cheek was being probed by your leaking tip.

"My charger, you borrowed it last night." Her eyes refused to make contact, "I can come back later. You seem occupied." Tzuyu cleared her throat.

"No, it's fine, hold on." Sana reached over, pulling the plug out of the wall, handing the wire to Tzuyu's outstretched hand. You've never seen a girl leave a room so quick, basically sprinting to her room.

"Haha, whoops." She giggled, "I need you now." She laid back, spreading her legs like nothing ever happened.

As you sunk into Sana's pussy, Tzuyu was laid on her bed two doors down, room completely dark as the charger laid forgotten. Pulling off her panties, feeling a shameful lust. Imagining the way her friends were getting it on, her best friend getting dicked down. She knew you two were dating, but seeing Sana kissing your cock awoke something inside of her. Tzuyu licked the pads of her fingers, reaching lower as she rubbed herself off.

She was imagining with a picture perfect image. Sana laying under you, getting held firmly as she took your shaft hammering in and out of her. She was probably so tight, and you were big, Tzuyu's finger slipped inside as she arched back, finger fucking herself while she could hear the faintest sound of Sana, small "Oh fuck!"s and "Oh my god!"s, leaking out endlessly.

Tzuyu added a second finger, completely succumbed to arousal as she started to moan, rolling over the bed, she could hear her squelching she was so wet. "Mmh!" She had never felt this horny, orgasm quickly starting to form inside her core. As you filled Sana with cum, Tzuyu defiled her sheets. The three of you unknowingly sharing a blissful orgasm.

-

You thought nothing of that night scene, however Tzuyu had confided in Sana, and after a small bit of conversation the two of them had planned something for Tzuyu to finally get lucky. After all, best friends are always willing to help each other. If anything because Sana wanted to watch.

Sana approached you, visibly dolled up. Hair nice and done, wearing red lipstick and light makeup. She moved with suspicion, like she wanted something, "Y/N?" Her voice was sweet, probing. Hand brushing against your chest.

"Honey?" You mocked "So what do you want?" You asked playfully, watching her quickly regain composure.

"Always so quick to accuse me of needing something ahaha, so I was wondering..." She begun, letting you say your mandatory 'of course' before continuing. "You remember Tzuyu... Walking in on us?" You cocked her a strange look. "And obviously you can say no, if you want."

She sat on your lap, closing the gap while you remained confusedly silent. "But, she confided something in me." Sana's lips went to your ear. "When she left, she went right to her bed, fingers inside her as she imagined you dicking me down. Said it's the strongest orgasm she's ever had baby." Your breath hitched, taken aback. Sana said it so seductively, millions of images swarming your brain that you've never thought of before.

" So, my question was dear, if you wanted to have a threesome? She's not super experienced but she is very eager." Her question was sudden, but you nodded, getting a smile. "That is my good boy, I'll come get you." She struggled to say good boy unironically, dismissing herself to go upstairs.

-

It wasn't long before you were suddenly in front of Tzuyu, who was wearing a black semi transparent crop-top, revealing her equally black bra. Unaware how busty she truly was, similar in size to your girlfriend. Her legs went on forever, thick and supple. The gates of heaven being blocked by a pair of white shorts.

Sana sat on Tzuyu's bed, observing the two of you be awkward, neither of you sure who was going to make the first move, engaging in a lengthy staring contest. Her eyes were beautiful, details you have never realized until now, lust at an all time high. "Can you two stop being awkward, do something already." Sana whined in frustration.

"Unnie I-" Tzuyu begun to speak, but she has no time to finish, hands finding her ass as you pulled her into a kiss, eyes wide open in surprise, eventually starting to kiss back. Your tongue slide inside her mouth, pressing against hers while you squeezed her pillowy clothed cheeks. She arched into your touch, smacking your lips together, Tzuyu's technique was much sloppier than Sana, lack of experience evident as she struggled to keep up with your bombarding kisses.

When you two pulled away a trail of saliva linked Tzuyu's lips to yours. "Mmh you are such a good kisser." She said, "almost wonder what else you are good at kissing." The words fired smoothly, Sana beaming at how well Tzuyu was handling herself.

"Well honey, all you gotta do is ask him whatever you want." Sana purred. Watching Tzuyu clam back up, the previous comment being a fluke. Her face flushing at the prospects.

"I-Maybe later, what do you want me to do?" She asked you, brushing the hair out of her face, Tzuyu was a people pleaser for as long as you knew her, now you were really able to take advantage of it. Thinking of her in every possible position, ones you would entertain in due time. But for now there was only one.

"I think you would look so much better on your knees yknow." You tested the water, but she was quick, falling down onto the floor. "And with a cock buried nice and deep in that throat." Her eyes widened, the level of shock was adorable, Sana took her time to move, sitting next to Tzuyu.

"Alright, let me help you out Tzu." Sana had a hairband on her arm, which she took into her hand. Grabbing Tzuyu's hair while she started to pull off your clothes. "You want your hair out the way, so let me put it up real fast." She put her hair into a pony tail, which really suited Tzuyu. "Okay, now finish getting rid of his clothes." Tzuyu complied, boxers pooling down with your pants.

"Wow." Was all Tzuyu said, cock rigid in front of her. Certainly a boost to your ego, Sana gave a healthy chuckle before continuing her lesson. "First you wanna use your hand, which means you need some lubrication, hand out." Tzuyu complied, watching as Sana spat thick bubbly spit onto her hand. "Just rub it into his shaft."

Tzuyu had obvious nerves, her hand moved slowly as it gingerly held your shaft, lubing it up, her hand was super soft, getting a soft gasp out of you. "Hmm, you are a natural, god." You praised, Sana leaned closer, "Good, you are doing so well, add your own spit, just on the tip."

Tzuyu leaned forward, letting her saliva drool out her mouth as it fell onto your tip. You shuddered at the sheer obscenity of it, she was naturally sexy, unable to make eye contact while her hand jerked you slowly.

"You are doing good Tzuyu, fucking hell." You moaned, jolting in pleasure.

"I am? Good, your cock feels so good in my hand." Tzuyu said in a faint whisper, enjoying the way you throbbed in her dainty hand, nails painted lilac, they were all long and pointed except the two middle fingers, you could only guess why.

"It feels even better in your mouth, but we will get there, first let's use your tongue." Sana said, "So, you wanna start at the bottom, work your way up to the tip, I'll demonstrate." She leaned forward, tongue dragging from your balls, going intentionally slow, hitting all the right places, reaching your tip and finishing with a sensual kiss.

"I see, I've got this." Tzuyu assured herself, taking a timid flick against you, going up as she licked, her technique not as refined but just as pleasing, her eyes staring at the cock she was servicing. "Mmh, you taste good." She swirled her tongue around, expanding on her teachers knowledge with her own guesses.

"Fuck Tzuyu, keep that up." She smiled, you noticed Sana had moved, "I forgot something, be right back." She left, leaving you alone with Tzuyu, who was happily slurping away, she was good but you needed more, to feel that mouth which you assumed was heavenly.

"Tzuyu, I'll guide you for this part, put your lips on my tip, remember to breathe through your nose." You assured, becoming the substitute teacher.

"Okay..." She took a deep breath, her lips were full, cushions that felt so blissful. "Oh fuck those are nice, go a little lower, as much as you think you can handle." Tzuyu was ambitious, taking far more than she could handle, gagging harshly as your cock fell out of her mouth.

"Careful..." You warned, she tried again, this time not attempting to take more than she could suck, going to her limit. Making eye contact for the first time, eyes fully open, she was so proud. "Good, now, bob your head." Tzuyu moved slow, too slow, but you endured, admiring her determination while she gave head.

"I see you taught her the next step?" Sana came in behind you, but whatever she brought with was hidden from sight.

"Yep, look how fucking cute she is sucking dick." You gasped, Tzuyu pulled herself off your cock, eyes pleading before she started to speak.

"I love it, fuck, your boyfriends cock fits perfectly in my mouth." Tzuyu panted, eyes looking at Sana, she attempted to take it back in. But you grabbed her head, holding her inches away, you needed to have a taste of Tzuyu.

"On the bed, Sana you aswell." They immediately complied, moving with an intention elegance, bodies flowing onto the bed, "Honey, get rid of her shirt for me, gonna undress this beauty." She was quick, getting the bothersome fabric off in a blur, Sana was quick to kiss Tzuyu's tits, sucking on her friends nipples like she was starving.

You couldn't blame her, pulling Tzuyu's shorts to her feet, you were sat on the floor, grabbing her thick thighs, pulling her clothed pussy mere inches from your face, the red underwear soaked through in sheer need, they were quickly removed.

In front of you laid the treasure you had been yearning for, shaved entirely bare, her pink lips begging for any touches, look slightly lower a shiny seal covered her ass, purple in colour. "A buttplug?" You asked, mind getting even more clouded with the possibilities, she was going to get the full treatment.

"Sana said how good it felt, oh my god keep sucking my tits!" She turned her focus to your girlfriend, you had to compete, you dove tongue first into her pink slit, collecting Tzuyu's juices in spades. You needed more, she cried out at the dual oral, unaware of where to put her attention.

"Mmmh, Tzuyu what do you want me to do to this pussy?" You teased, voice having a sadistic undertone. You watched her stumble on her words, lips quaking.

"I, want you to finger me! Suck my clit!" She managed to get out in a grunt, you gave her a smile, climbing up as you shoved your fingers into her mouth, letting her lubricate your fingers before getting back down to eye level with her cunt.

If she asks, she shall receive. Your fingers found their way inside, her walls tightening around you, "How quickly do you want it?" Your mouth found her clit, sucking the nub, she screamed out in pleasure, the room starting to heat up.

"Fuck! Destroy my pussy with your fingers!" She begged, you looked up, Sana was squeezing the neglected nipple with her spare hand, Tzuyu's head had a sheen of sweat, face flushing red. You listened, fingers slamming inside with a mind of their own, you sucked and sucked on her clit, the pleasure was too extreme for Tzuyu, but all her previous nervousness had been replaced by a need to cum, to be used in every way she could be.

"AHHH! That's the spot, fuck!" Tzuyu was breathing hard, her body shaking, your ravenous tongue moved off her clit, sliding in every sopping spot of Tzuyu, delivering flat presses against her warmth while your fingers rocked in and out.

Her legs tilted, showing her dancer flexibility. Pushing you face first into her intoxicating pussy, the scent filling your nose as oxygen became an afterthought in exchange for her sweetness. "God! God! Fuck!" She said in between high pitched wails, her taste spurred you on, flicking your tongue against her, fingers moving at light speed.

"Fuck, gonna cum!" She shouted, overwhelmed by every little detail. Sana's actions, your mouth, your fingers. The fact she was getting an orgasm from her friends, everything. It created an explosion within her core and it's results landed on your fingers, coating in an orgasmic residue. She came forcefully, riding it out on your tongue.

The two of you eventually stopped, lunging at each other as you let her get a taste of Tzuyu, she had been severely neglected, she hid it well though, barely unable to tell how aroused she was. The only exposing factor being her eyes. "You want some touching aswell?" You asked your girlfriend, she gave a courteous smile but shook her head.

"No it's alright, trust me I'll use that pretty face of hers. Get her tongue to work."

"Please unnie, ride my face!" Tzuyu begged, watching Sana strip down slowly, starting with her blouse, throwing it off into the corner of the room. Next was her skirt, there was certainly an advantage to summer weather, and that was seeing your girlfriend wear progressively shorter outfits. To finish the act she unclipped her bra, in one smooth motion, giving Tzuyu the honors of removing her panties.

She looked directly at you, bringing Sana's soaked underwear to her nose, giving it a perverse sniff as she breathed in the imprinted arousal, that pushed you to the edge. Pressing your tip against her entrance, getting it nice and coated.

"Ah! Just put it in, use me-" Whatever final command she was going to utter was muffled against Sana pressing herself onto Tzuyu's face, who responded by grabbing onto her tight cheeks. You smiled at seeing Sana use that perfect tongue, head thrown back while she rode.

You begun to press inside her, you thought your girlfriend was tight. But jesus. Every inch felt like a warm hug, unwilling to let go as it clenched around your cock, you took it slow at first, letting Tzuyu adjust to your cock buried deep inside her.

You could hear Tzuyu's muffled moans, fighting to escape against the wet folds being grinded against her tongue, Sana and you had much louder moans, your girlfriend being always super loud and the Taiwanese cunt you were sloppily thrusting into was making you go feral. "Fucking hell Tzuyu." You gasped.

She felt divine, the sight in front of you so sinfully juxtaposing the heaven you felt. "Hmmm! That's a good girl, keep going!" Sana praised, you moved faster, feeling every convulsion in her body, the room was sweltering, sweat forming on every spare inch of open skin.

"Hmm! So fucking wet." You kept slapping against her crotch, each connection made a loud impact. Your grip tightened, a testament to the determination you had to make her cum all over your cock. To make her fall deeper into pleasure.

Every moment came with its struggles, an uphill battle to fight against the orgasm tightening within your core, watching Tzuyu's thick thighs jiggle hypnotically. "Tzu! Shit!" You screamed, Sana couldn't get words out, just wanton moans, she was so close. You kept pounding, practically humping into Tzuyu's body, her squeezes becoming almost too much to endure, you looked down, cock sliding in and out of her hole, shining with her need.

Sana came with a high pitched wail, falling off of Tzuyu's face as she was finally given more oxygen, moaning heavy and breathy while she laid there taking dick.

"Oh fuck Y/N, keep fucking me!" She begged, like there was ever another choice, she was too tight, too perfect.

"I'm not gonna, fuck - ing stop! Not until you cum for me!" You growled, her eyes was hazed, desperate to finish as her chest heaved up and down, you could tell she was getting close.

"I'm so close, so so fucking close!" She warned, clenching around you, body stiffening up. Moaning to an unholy decibel, after a second she went limp, falling back against the bed. You were satisfied, pulling out as your hand jerked yourself quickly. Orgasm hitting you suddenly, firing every spurt of your seed onto Tzuyu's pussy, glazing her lips with cum, coated in excitement. You fell to the ground, everyone taking a moment to rest out of pure exhaustion.

-

You all took quite a long time to recover, but that was in the past, in the present Tzuyu was in the middle, buttplug removed and laying on the bed while you and Sana licked her opened ass, giving a dual reaming, tracing her hole while you prepared her for the oncoming storm. "Such a nice ass Tzu, can't wait for it to be filled with my boyfriends cock?" Sana didn't wait for a response, dipping her tongue back against her ass. You two frequently clashed tongues, all desperate to enjoy Tzuyu's tight ass.

"Yeah! I can't wait to feel it, need it to fill me up!" Tzuyu had well and truly turned into a cock slut.

"Well don't let me stop you honey, he'll destroy that pretty little ass of yours." She grabbed the lube, "But first I wanna make sure you are going to be as ready as possible." Your girlfriend was always a caring one, looking after her members in every way possible, now her lubricated fingers were entering her asshole.

Perhaps it was mean, getting behind an unassuming Sana and pushing your cock inside of her, giving her the attention she fully deserved. "Fuck! Baby that's!" She gasped in surprise, taking a moment to get used to your inconsiderate actions.

Sana's pussy felt incredible, warm wet and familiar. You grabbed her hips, thrusting in and out, her body a vixen that coaxed your pleasure. "Fuck Sana, warming me up so well." You gasped, using her body for your gain.

Sana kept moving her fingers, making sure she was ready.

You pounded Sana for the next few minutes, waiting for the go ahead. Which you were given. Cock ready to get in her inviting ass, your tip pushed in, showing no sign of pain so you added another inch. It was almost obnoxiously tight, attempting to suffocate you.

"Stop moving slow! Fuck me in the ass!" Tzuyu shouted, pushing her head into the pillow, ass pointed into the sky. If that was the invitation to move, you were taking it. Speeding up, your rigid length using her ass as a warm fleshlight to cum in.

"This ass is so fucking tight, trying to choke me! Fuck." You growled, letting throat ripping moans roar out.

Tzuyu whined into the bed, begging for more, which you responded with a proper fucking. Her velvety hole making you throb, Sana got on the bed, licking the warm sweat off her friends back. "Keep going! Keep fucking me! I just need more!" Tzuyu's voice was full of need, desire, the vigorous pounding getting to you both.

"I'm gonna fuck this ass until it takes my cum! You are going to fucking take it!" You growled, slapping your balls against her pussy.

"Yeah! Cum in my ass! Then I'll make Sana lick it out for me!" Tzuyu whined, you just couldn't stop pounding. Energy falling off while you let the feeling form inside of you.

"I'm gonna cum! I'm fuck, gonna cum in this tight ass!" You whimpered, choking out the last few words before shooting your final orgasm into Tzuyu's fat ass, pulling out as Sana's tongue immediately started to lick the cum out of her gaping asshole while you caught your breath. Tzuyu pulled Sana back onto the bed, engaging into some sloppy 69, licking each other's pussys.

What a night.

[bratbby333]

Are you okay with writing more poly satosugu? Im obsessed

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ poly stsg: the prequel !

⋆｡˚ cw + tags: nsfw mdni. fem!reader. suggestive scenes/language, alcohol mentioned. super fluffy n cute n precious n beautiful. ₊✩ˎˊ˗ an: ask and you shall receive. this has been sitting in my drafts, half written, for nearly a year. you can find part one here ! i don't think anything will ever alleviate my stsg brain rot so of course im okay with writing more. i hope you enjoy some back story !! ⋆｡˚ word count: 5k. i got carried away once again. also not proofread. sry. ₊✩ˎˊ˗ banner fan art from twitter @/xtlusultx

ੈ♡˳ how it started...

Satoru and Suguru were already dating when you met them, though you all quickly became inseparable. 

Honestly? You were positive this whole thing was Suguru's idea. He’d been sitting with the weight of his feelings for a while. He knew what he felt for you, he recognized it, accepted it before anyone else did. So of course he brought it to Satoru first. Quietly. Carefully. Something like, “Hey, I think I might be in love with her too. What do we do with that?”

And Satoru? He probably took, what, four seconds to process it before going, “Oh?? Okay!!”

He was thrilled, honestly. The man had so much love in his body it practically leaked out of him. And sure, he knew Geto loved him deeply and endlessly, but he also knew he could be a little clingy sometimes (his words, not yours. At least he was self aware). So the idea of having two people to smother with affection instead of one? It was the easiest choice he could have made. He already adored you. He always had.

But even with both of them on the same page, so aligned it was almost scary, they were still nervous. Hesitant, even. Because it wasn’t just some new phase or thrill; it was you. Their best friend. The person who knew them too well, who made everything feel easy. The last thing they wanted was to risk that.

What if you didn’t want to change anything? What if it made things weird? What if they lost you?

But then Suguru noticed how you instinctually bounced between the two of them depending on what mood you were in; feeling silly and a bit unhinged, wanting nothing more than to lean into your unending curiosity and desire for adventure? Satoru was your man; the two of you were never not doing something; frequenting the city, shopping and snacking and chatting about everything, which inevitably led to y'all being at a random party across town just because you felt like it.

Not many people could hangout with Satoru for extended periods of time without getting annoyed, but it was like you and him were two halves of the same whole, well...aside from Geto, of course…the two of you complimented Satoru in different but fulfilling ways. You matched him, and Suguru balanced him. 

And if you were craving calmness and deep, intellectual chats filled with quick wit and the occasional dose of sarcasm, you’re hanging out with Suguru, your legs thrown over his thighs as he manspreads on the couch. His presence was just so comforting, and the two of you never ran out of things to say. He made you feel seen. He supported you unconditionally, all while dismissing the pressure to conform to anyone else's standards. Geto just wanted you to be you. 

The two of them harbored a safe space for each part of your personality, and when you were all together, there was an unspoken balance between you. The laughter was unending and it never once felt awkward or forced, even when you had first met them. It felt...natural. Like this was the reality that the three of you were meant to live. 

You started to notice your feelings for the both of them about three months into your friendship, but didn't want to overstep any boundaries or insert yourself into their relationship. Though it had been years now since you had first met the two of them, you still felt slightly ashamed for viewing your friends in a seemingly inappropriate way. You attempted to push those feelings away, but the longer this played out, the harder it was to ignore…

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

You were sat on the couch of their shared apartment, sipping on some wine, snacks littering the coffee table as some random movie faded into background noise. You found yourself tied up in harmless banter, going back and forth with Satoru over god knows what. It was rare for someone to entertain Gojo's ramblings, but you were fair game, loving the challenge of his stubbornness. Suguru was smiling admirably at the two of you from a loveseat to the left, and though he looked calm on the outside, his mind was racing; Is now the time? Should I ask? Should we do this? 

You excused yourself and went to the bathroom. But rather than actually using the toilet, you leaned over the sink, splashing cool water on your face and silently thanking the heavens that you could blame your intensely blushed face on the alcohol.

But you didn't even drink enough to have a buzz from the wine. It was them making you red in the face: How effortless it was to joke around with Satoru (while others viewed him as immature, you saw him as someone who's healing their inner child, and the two of you had similar senses of humor. It was so easy for him to make you laugh and vice versa). Not to mention how intently Suguru listened to you when you spoke...it was like he was trying to look through you, like he was holding on to every single word. And his emotional intelligence coupled with his unintentional siren eyes definitely didn't help your nerves.

And as comfortable as you felt around them, the deeper feelings you had were becoming unbearable.

But while you hid yourself away in the bathroom, the two guys were having a whispered meeting, psyching themselves up to finally ask you to join them: 

"Suguru...we've been putting this off for long enough. Tonight's the night," Satoru whispered. His eyes darted between his boyfriend and the hallway, on the lookout for you to reappear. His hand grasped Geto's as he rubbed gentle circles into his skin.

Suguru offered him a gentle squeeze in response, nodding his head as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "I know, I know...but who's gonna bring it up?" he asked softly. 

"Oh, definitely you," Satoru replied, almost like it was obvious, leaning back on the couch cushions.

Suguru narrowed his eyes at his white-haired counterpart, "So, no...we're doing this together, Satoru."

When you finally returned and sat back down, you could feel the tension that had settled between the three of you. It felt abnormal for the usual dynamic and your heart rate increased at the feeling.

Your eyes drifted nervously between the two men, "...is...everything okay?" you questioned, reaching for your wine and taking a much needed swig. You rolled the stem of the glass between your fingers as you awaited their response.

Suguru finally spoke up after sharing a look with Satoru, "Yeah, everything's fine," he smiled, "We just want to talk to you about something," he murmurs, shifting his weight in his seat before turning his body to face you.

His dark eyes and unwavering attention made your hands tremble slightly. Your gaze meandered toward Gojo, who occupied the space next to you, then back to Geto, before nodding slowly.

Satoru sat up a bit. "We've been thinking a lot about our friendship lately...about how close we've all become..." he trailed off and glanced at Geto.

"Yeah, it's rare to find this kind of connection with people. We trust you and care about you so much," Suguru added.

You looked between the two of them, your brows furrowed deeply. "Why does it feel like you two are getting a divorce and are about to ask me who I want to stay with..." you half-joked, taking another sip of your wine, "But in all seriousness, you two mean a lot to me. So, what's goin' on?" 

Gojo laughed at your comment before speaking up, "We've been talking about something for a while now, and we wanted to share it with you because it's important to us."

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Panic bloomed, subtle but rapid, like the fizz in your half-finished wine glass. You were terrified they had caught on, had noticed the lingering glances, the way you always sat a little too close to Suguru when you were tired, the way your laugh came too easily around Satoru. You thought you’d been discreet.

One hand twirled the wine glass around in slow, absent circles, the other clenched tight, tucked beneath your thigh like you could keep your nerves from spilling out if you just held them in hard enough.

You glanced between them—Suguru sitting composed but visibly tense, and Gojo, still smiling, but with an undercurrent of seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. You nodded once, just barely. You weren't sure if you were giving them permission to keep talking or trying to brace yourself for whatever came next.

A deep breath broke the silence—Geto’s. His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the effort it took to speak so plainly. "We love each other deeply, and we've also realized how much we care about you," he said, shifting again like he couldn’t quite get comfortable with the weight of what he was about to say.

"We’ve been considering the idea of opening our relationship to include you, if that’s something you’d be interested in."

You blinked. And then blinked again. You took another sip, as if the wine was the reason this conversation seemed real. But it was real, and this was actually happening. 

The words didn’t register at first, not really. You stared at him like you’d misheard, like if you just kept looking long enough, he’d laugh and say he was joking. Your breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on it, coughing once before covering your mouth like that would hide the shock painting your face.

Your ears were ringing, the edges of your vision buzzing, like the room itself had tilted. But beneath the static, there was this creeping warmth. It was an overwhelming, radiant kind of relief that made your fingers tremble. They weren’t uncomfortable with your feelings. They knew, and they wanted you.

And then, just as quickly, the shock gave way to a strange kind of disbelief, like you’d stepped into a dream, one too good to be real. Your mind spiraled with thoughts, too fast to catch: Are they serious? What does this mean? How long have they been thinking about this?

You’d wanted them for so damn long. In different ways, at different times, but it had always felt hopeless. Forbidden, even. A deep, lingering sense of guilt followed you around for mentally inserting yourself into their relationship. It was like wanting the sun and the moon but the gravitational pull from both kept you...stuck. And now they were sitting across from you, calm and honest, asking if you wanted them back.

Your chest was tight with emotion. You could barely find your voice. You looked between them again, your mouth slightly open, like you might say something, anything, but all that came out was a quiet, “You’re serious?”

Satoru grinned, soft and real. “Dead serious, sweetheart.”

Suguru nodded. There was something rare and vulnerable in his gaze that made your heart twist. “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure. But we had to ask.”

You felt like crying. Or laughing. Maybe both, simultaneously. Because somewhere deep down, part of you had wanted this for so long, and now that it was real, you almost didn’t know how to hold it.

"...Really? So…so, how would that work?" Your body was putting in overtime to keep your voice level, but in reality, you were elated. And as Suguru started to lay everything out, you began to feel more and more on board with the whole scenario. 

"We understand if it's not for you. But we wanted to be honest about our feelings and see if you might feel the same way," Geto concluded, his eyes searching yours for any sign of apprehension.

"I appreciate you both being so open about this..." Your voice trailed off as you looked at Suguru, then to Satoru, and back again. You were deep in thought as you weighed your options. It was one thing to daydream about a relationship like that, but it was a whole different ballpark when actually attempting it. 

Gojo spoke up once more, "Above all else, we want to make sure this is something you're comfortable with...a relationship where the three of us are equally involved and supportive of each other."

"Communication is going to be key. We want you to feel comfortable expressing any thoughts or concerns along the way," Suguru added. 

Silence fell as you pondered the offer presented to you. you smiled at the two of them before speaking up, "I'd love to give it a try. You are both important to me and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it before." 

As the words of affirmation left your lips, you were immediately tackled into the couch by your overjoyed, blue-eyed (boy)friend, encompassed in a body-crushing bear hug. Geto quickly joined the two of you on the couch, placing a gentle peck to both you and Satoru's cheek. 

This marked the start of a flourishing relationship, just you and your boys against the world, a beautiful dynamic operating with a deep sense of mutual respect, love, and open communication.

ੈ♡˳ how it's going...

The minute the three of you decided to give polyamory a try, the world felt like it shifted on its axis, a wave of normalcy washing over all of you. The dynamic was perfect, and you always caught yourself wondering why this didn't happen sooner. 

It didn’t feel unnatural or complicated like you’d feared. If anything, it was the opposite. A strange and beautiful wave of normalcy settled over the three of you. Like you had just remembered something you were never supposed to forget.

The dynamic fell into place effortlessly. Suguru, as always, was the grounding force—calm, intentional, fiercely attentive. He took on the role of caretaker with ease, though he'd never say it out loud. It wasn’t in the dramatic gestures, but in the way he placed a hand on your back when you looked overwhelmed, or quietly handed Satoru a bottle of water when he’d clearly forgotten to drink anything all day. He made sure you both ate when your schedules got chaotic, that you went to bed instead of overextending yourselves. He didn’t nag—he guided, steady and warm.

Suguru had always carried a kind of weight in his presence, but now that weight felt like protection instead of distance. You and Satoru gave his life color, purpose—and in return, he anchored you both without ever demanding anything back. But of course, you gave it anyway. In quiet gestures, in lazy mornings spent curled together in bed, in the way you learned to read the tiniest flickers of expression on his face and respond to them before he even asked.

Satoru… well, not much had changed on the surface. He was still loud, still playful, still the first to suggest impulsive ideas like midnight ice cream runs or building a blanket fort just because. But there was a softness to him now, a depth that had always been there but now showed itself more readily. He teased, flirted, joked—but he was also the first to notice when you were feeling distant, the first to ask, “Are you okay?” with a hand over yours and a rare kind of quiet in his voice.

He was touch-starved in the way only someone who gives so much could be, and now that you were his, he made no effort to hide how much he loved being loved. You caught him staring all the time—at you, at Suguru—like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. Sometimes he’d just sigh and press his forehead to your shoulder and mumble something like, “This is the best timeline,” and then pretend it hadn’t happened at all.

Despite the deep feelings and the complicated history, what surprised you most was how easy it all felt. How often you found yourself laughing. How domestic it became without even trying.

Suguru was surprisingly touchy when no one was looking. You’d be brushing your teeth, and he’d wander in to tuck your hair behind your ear like it was nothing. Or he’d rest his chin on your shoulder while you were making tea, arms snaking around your waist, quiet and content. His love language was care disguised as routine—always making sure your phone was charged, that you took your meds, that Satoru didn’t eat cake for breakfast (again). And the best part? He never needed thanks. He just looked at you like, of course I’ll take care of you. You’re mine.

Satoru, on the other hand, was as dramatic and extra as ever, but now he had two people to dote on—and be doted on by. He’d wear matching socks with you and pretend it was a coincidence. He’d climb into bed with you and Suguru and sigh like the day had personally attacked him, only to melt into your arms five seconds later. You once caught him trying to braid Suguru’s hair while he was half-asleep, and instead of stopping him, Suguru just sighed and let him keep going, eyes closed, face soft.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

It was a lazy morning—one of those rare days where no one had anywhere to be and the sun was barely creeping through the blinds. You stirred awake to the sound of quiet humming, familiar and slightly off-key, and the sensation of something warm and heavy draped across your waist.

Satoru.

His hair was a fluffy mess, pillow-creased and wild, his blindfold bunched up like a headband around his forehead. He was curled half on top of you, long limbs tangled like a human octopus, one arm flung across your stomach, one leg hooked over yours. He was still humming, barely conscious, but so deeply relaxed it was like he’d melted.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep.

You tried to stretch, but he clung to you like you were his emotional support body pillow. “You’re heavy,” you grumbled, affection softening the complaint.

“Mm, no I’m not. You’re just dramatic.” He nuzzled further into your neck, lips brushing your skin in a way that made your heart stutter.

“Do you ever wake up like a normal person?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the 'p' like it was the proudest thing he’d ever said.

You ran your fingers through his messy hair, and he actually purred. Like, audibly. It was so ridiculous you laughed, but he just sighed like your touch was the cure to every problem in the world.

“You spoil me,” he said softly, quieter now, like the teasing had melted into something real. “You know that, right?”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “You spoil yourself, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but you do it better,” he replied without missing a beat. “You make it feel like… I deserve it.”

That stilled you. Because under the teasing, under the ego, you knew that was something he struggled with—that weight he carried behind the blindfold and bravado.

You shifted, just enough to wrap your arms around him, tucking his head beneath your chin. “You do deserve it. Every bit of it.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just exhaled slowly, fingers curling against your side like he was anchoring himself to the moment. And then, muffled into your skin:

“You’re my favorite.”

You rolled your eyes, affectionately. “You say that to everyone.”

“Nope.” He lifted his head to grin at you, impossibly soft and just a little smug. “Just you. Don’t tell Suguru.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek anyway. “Too late. He already knows.”

Satoru sighed dramatically, burying his face in your neck again. “Damn. Guess I’ll just have to make you love me more today.”

And he would. In all the stupid little ways only he could pull off—bad jokes over breakfast, kissing your forehead like it was a compulsion, wrapping you in his arms like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

Because when it was just the two of you, Satoru Gojo was less god and more boy—clumsy in his affection, shameless in his need, and so, so easy to love.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

It was late. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles over everything like a blanket—soft, still, safe. Satoru had passed out on the couch hours ago, limbs everywhere, one sock missing (again). You and Suguru had tiptoed away, not to be sneaky, just… because it felt like the right time for a quieter moment. A private one.

You were sitting on the floor of his room, your back against the side of the bed, a record playing low in the background. Suguru sat beside you, legs stretched out, one hand resting between the two of you, pinky just barely brushing yours.

He hadn’t said much yet, but that wasn’t unusual. Suguru didn’t need words to fill the space. He was the space—solid and grounding, always tuned in even when he was silent.

You turned your head to look at him, and he was already watching you. Not staring—watching. The way he always did. Like you were something worth observing carefully.

“What?” you asked softly, smiling a little.

He didn’t smile back—not because he wasn’t happy, but because he was in that kind of mood. The soft one. The vulnerable one. The Suguru one.

“You look peaceful,” he said simply. “I like seeing you like this.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, but not for long. Suguru didn’t say things for effect. If he gave you a compliment, it was because he meant it. Entirely. It always landed different—like he wasn’t just noticing your beauty, he was recognizing it. Respecting it.

“You make it easy to be peaceful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder.

He shifted, just slightly, so he could wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “I want to.”

“You do.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that made your chest ache in the best way. The kind that said I don’t have to talk to be with you. After a while, he spoke again, voice low, words slow and careful like always. “Sometimes I think about how this almost didn’t happen. You and me. Us. All of it.”

Your stomach fluttered. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I think about all the time we wasted pretending we didn’t want more.”

You turned slightly to look at him, and this time he looked away, the smallest flicker of self-consciousness crossing his face.

“I used to watch you laugh with Satoru,” he continued, “and I’d wonder what it would be like… to be close to you like that. To make you smile that way.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I didn’t think I deserved it back then,” he said softly, eyes still fixed ahead. “But you make me feel like maybe I do now.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just reached out and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his, grounding him for once.

“You do,” you said. “You always did.”

He finally looked at you, and this time, he smiled—small, soft, heartbreakingly genuine.

Then, wordlessly, he leaned in and kissed you. Not like Satoru’s kisses—quick and playful and endless. No, this was a Suguru kiss. Intentional. Slow. Like he was pouring every unspoken thought into it. Like he was giving you something sacred. Because he was.

And when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “You’re my peace.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your heart aching in the best way.

“And you’re mine,” you said.

Suguru gave devotion like it was breathing. He didn’t just love—he chose you, over and over, with every glance, every touch, every quiet act of care.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

One on one, they were everything you had imagined them to be. But when they both decided to show you just how much they loved you at the same time? It was like being caught in the middle of a one-sided competition where you won every time.

It started with something small. A bad day. You came home quiet, not upset, just… low. Drained. And of course, they noticed. Satoru noticed in the way your eyes didn’t crinkle when you smiled. Suguru noticed in the way you sighed a little too often.

And that was all it took. You were suddenly the battlefield for a very soft war.

Suguru made your favorite dinner without asking, and you didn’t even realize he’d gone out to buy the ingredients. It was already plated when you got out of the shower, still warm, waiting on the coffee table with a fresh pair of fluffy socks he must’ve pulled from the back of your drawer. It was precisely what you needed, even though you didn’t know how to ask. They just knew. Little was said at dinner, but nothing really needed to be said. 

Suguru gently ushered you to the couch. Then Satoru came into the room with a blanket and immediately sat on your lap. “Your turn to be the little spoon,” he declared, even though the size difference made it slightly ridiculous. He tucked the blanket around both of you and kissed your forehead like he was sealing in warmth.

Suguru sat beside you, arm draped along the back of the couch, fingertips brushing your shoulder, his voice low as he asked how your day went. No pressure, no expectations, no fixing. Just listening. Satoru, meanwhile, made little dramatic gasps every time you said something mildly annoying that happened. “They said what to you?? Prison. Life sentence. I’ll teleport there now.”

And it kept going. Suguru offered to braid your hair. Satoru tried to unbraid it just so he could “fix it.” Suguru rolled his eyes and took over again, whispering soft things about how pretty you looked even when you were tired. Satoru kept interrupting with kisses to your temple and shoulder, mumbling, “Yeah, and you smell good too. So unfair.”

At one point, you made a sound halfway between a laugh and a whimper. “You guys are literally overwhelming me with affection right now.”

They both paused. Then Suguru smiled, “Good.” And Satoru chimed in with, “You deserve to be worshipped. Let us live.”

After that, they teamed up. You were tucked between them on the couch—Suguru rubbing slow, grounding circles into your back while Satoru played with your fingers like he was counting each one. They talked around you, but every word was for your benefit.

“You think she knows how good she is?” “Mm. Not nearly enough.” “Well, that’s criminal.” “Agreed.”

You couldn’t even respond anymore. Your heart was too full. Your face hurt from smiling. And still, they didn’t stop. Because to them, loving you wasn’t a competition, but a privilege they both happened to share. And god, they were so good at it.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

There were little things, too. The mundane kind that somehow became sacred. Suguru read with his head in your lap while Satoru scrolled through his phone, occasionally reaching up to boop your nose. Satoru stealing your chapstick and dramatically applying it like he was doing runway makeup, you walking into the kitchen to find the two of them dancing like idiots to a song on the radio, laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

It wasn’t always glamorous, but it was always yours. And in between the chaos and the teasing and the deep emotional undercurrents, there was this unshakable sense of joy. Of having finally found your people. The ones who made the world quieter, softer. Who made even the bad days feel survivable—sometimes with a forehead kiss, sometimes with a warm meal, sometimes with a joke so bad you had to physically throw a pillow at Satoru just to make it stop.

You loved them. You really, really loved them.

And they loved you back with the kind of love that felt like sunshine on skin, like home.

.⋅♡‧₊˚〰.

Of course, the intimacy deepened in every way. The friendship you’d all built didn’t disappear. It just bloomed, unfurled into something deeper, richer. And with it came the parts you’d never experienced before, not like this. The touches lingered longer, the kisses grew softer or rougher depending on the night, and the tension that had once been so unspoken became a language all its own.

The sexual aspect of it all… that was the most unfamiliar territory at first. Not difficult, but definitely an adjustment. It was one thing to imagine it, to dream about what it might be like. But reality, real vulnerability, was a different beast. It wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust. About learning new rhythms, exploring each other’s boundaries, needs, wants.

It would probably start in private moments, organically—Maybe you and Suguru share a vulnerable night, talking until the conversation softens into touches, confessions, something deeper. He’d be intentional, focused on making you feel safe and understood. It wouldn’t be rushed. If anything, it was incredibly slow, deliberate. He'd check in constantly, not just with words, but with his gaze, his hands, his presence. He’d ensure that you had his full attention in the way his fingers would trace along your skin, the way his big hands would hold you, ground you, his voice low when he whispered praise into ear; “There you go…just relax, pretty girl. I’ll be gentle. You’re doing so good.”  

And then, a few days or weeks later, it happens with Satoru. His energy was different—playful, disarming, but no less attentive. He would make you laugh right before kissing you breathless, help ease your nerves by being a bit ridiculous, a bit indulgent. He’d worship you in his own way, probably talk the entire time unless you shut him up with a kiss or sat yourself down on his face. Oh, that sweet tongue of his. But under the teasing, he’d be just as tender as Suguru, even if he hid it behind charm.

The first few times all together were careful, only a little awkward, full of whispered check-ins and shy laughter. But they were also electric, intimate in ways you hadn’t even known were possible. Suguru, intense and patient, knew how to read the room, how to guide without being overwhelmed. Satoru, unfiltered and affectionate, knew how to turn nerves into giggles, how to make even the most hesitant moments feel joyful and full of love.

Eventually, it became second nature, like everything else between the three of you.

You found yourself lying in bed with them, tangled in warmth and limbs, wondering why it had taken so long to get here. Why you’d ever thought being “just friends” was enough. Because now you knew what enough really felt like.

And it was this. 

an: this literally healed a part of me and i feel so full of love. also ik this one wasnt smutty, but don't you worry. i have a nashtyyy one comin soon. and, i started working on a stsg CHAPTERED story. omg. im really diving back in head fuckin' first. ik i said i was working on a dark choso series and a dead dove sukuna series but the subject matter is super heavy so im putting a pause on those for the foreseeable future xx

© bratbby333. all rights reserved. please do not distribute.

[dixons-sunshine]

What Ifs | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: While cuddled up in bed one night, Daryl springs a question onto you, one that made you think. After seeing Daryl truly caught up on the ‘what ifs’, you took it upon yourself to reassure him as best as you could.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria

Warnings: None, other than a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it allusion to past sexual activity.

Word count: 1.1k.

A/N: This one’s for my Daryl lovers! Yes, I am very much still writing for Daryl, even though I’ve started writing for Joel lol. I haven’t forgotten my roots. Anyways, I had this idea and (kind of poorly) executed it (also please ignore how meh the summary is. I struggled coming up with one). I hope y’all like this!

“D’ya think we would’a been together? Under different circumstances, I mean?”

The sound of Daryl’s surprisingly soft, tentative question filled the quiet, blissful air. The room was dark, the only source of light being that of the moon that trickled in through the window and spilled past the barrier of the curtains. The hour was late, probably nearing midnight, with owls hooting in the distance and crickets chirping outside the window. Sleep tugged at your eyelids, but the archer’s question kept you awake.

“What do you mean?” you inquired in a voice just as soft, raising your head from its position on his shoulder to peer down at him. Your fingers trailed over the bare flesh of his chest, being extra gentle whenever you came across one of his many scars. Blankets covered you both, tugged over you by your partner after a night of pleasure.

Daryl did not answer. Not at first. He stayed silent, his eyes—blue like the water in the ocean—looked anywhere but at you at first. The door, the dresser, his crossbow leaning against the wall, the curtains, until finally they landed on you. His gaze was uncertain, insecure, like he was scared his question would make you mad, and your heart ached.

“Daryl,” you began, making sure to keep your voice soft, gentle, almost honey-like, “it’s okay. You can tell me.”

Inhaling shakily, Daryl ducked his eyes down again. He drew lazy circles over your hip, hoping to anchor himself before he got lost in the abyss that was his mind. Despite his build, he looked so small in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made you want to hug him tightly and soothe his troubles away.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Daryl started slowly, swallowing at the lump that threatened to form in his throat. “Jus’... if we met under different circumstances, maybe earlier in life or in a world where none’a this bullshit ever happened, would we still be here today? Together? Or…”

Daryl couldn’t finish the question. He didn’t want to finish the question. Voicing this worry out loud made him feel foolish. Why did it matter? You were with him now. You were his woman, and he was your man. You loved each other. Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

You took a minute to ponder over his question. You wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t say that for sure. Thinking back, you and Daryl lived two completely different lives. You had a job, an apartment, a life that seems like a pipedream compared to the one you led now. Daryl… his life hadn’t been that simple, and he never truly had any roots. If you had met in a world where the apocalypse never happened, would you have spared him a second glance? Would you have asked him out, introduced him to the people closest to you, done all the things couples did back then?

Then there was Merle to consider, the life Daryl lived with him before the outbreak. Would that have hindered Daryl from keeping in contact with you if you two met in a world where the outbreak didn’t happen? Would he have tried to break free from Merle’s shadow and live his own life, a life that wasn’t dangerous to have you involved in?

The answer wasn’t as simple as saying yes or no. There was a lot to take into consideration. You both lived very different lives before the apocalypse, but would fate have come into play? Would you still have ended up together? You couldn’t say.

“You want my honest answer?” you asked after a good minute of silence.

Daryl’s heart dropped at that, fearing the worst, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “I want to say yes. I want to believe with my whole heart that destiny would have brought us together regardless of how or when we met, but I can’t say that for sure.” Laying your head back down on Daryl’s shoulder, you kissed his pulse point, smiling to yourself when a shiver rolled over his spine. “But I choose not to think about that. You wanna know why?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because I have you now.” You pressed a string of soft, loving kisses against his neck, before continuing. “In a weird way, I’m grateful that the apocalypse happened because it led me to you.” You paused. “Although I definitely wish we didn’t have to lose so many people because of all of this.”

Many different faces flashed through Daryl’s mind when you said that. “Definitely could’a gone without all the losses.”

You nodded in agreement. Willing your mind away from thinking about all the friends you lost since the quarry, you spoke up again. “But my point is that it doesn’t matter. The ‘what ifs’. We have each other now, despite everything we had to overcome. So what if some alternate versions of us don’t end up together? We are together in this universe, and that’s all that matters. And for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be yours. I love you, Daryl, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say. He had never been good with words, and no words would ever perfectly convey just how much Daryl loved you, how grateful he was to have you in his life, to be able to share his life with you. You deserved the world, and for as long as Daryl was alive, he would try to give you that.

“I love ya, too,” Daryl finally whispered quietly, his arm that held you to him tightening slightly, pulling you even closer. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh. Don’t talk like that. Of course you do.”

He didn’t address everything you said. He didn’t need to. You knew he had heard everything you said, knew he appreciated it. Daryl was a man of few words, but his eyes showed it all, and you saw everything in those beautiful blue pools. You knew he appreciated what you said. Would that feeling—one he had for reasons you didn’t know of just yet—of his go away after one speech? Most likely not, but thankfully, you had time to show him just how much you loved him, and that he didn’t have to get caught up on the ‘what if’ scenarios.

“Daryl?” you said after a few minutes of silence.

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad I know you now. There’s nobody I’d rather take on the apocalypse with.”

Daryl chuckled at that and tenderly kissed the top of your head. “Me too, Sweetheart. Me too.”

[cameronsbabydoll]

More angst more angst

SCC reader and Rafe get into a fight, probably about something small like she forgot to iron his work shirt so he had to do it himself. He’s yelling at her, making all these snide and mean comments trying to provoke her and she just looks at him with big teary eyes but doesn’t say anything back, she’s too exhausted.

She’s in her first trimester with their last kid and she’s probably in the worst mental state at this point, forgetting things, sleeping all day, being distant with Rafe, just sitting outside staring at the water.

After their fight she just hides out in her daughters room until bed time, she’s playing dolls, tea party, or watching a movie that reader used to like with her daughter, maybe their son comes in to join them watching the movie (her only refuge at this point)

But her little girl is smart and maybe asks her “momma why you sad?” Idk how old she is that this point but in my mind she’s maybe like 5-7. Reader just softly says that she’s just tired bc of the baby. Maybe her daughter gives her one of her stuffed animals to help her sleep better bc she’s a sweetheart like that.

After bedtime, reader locks herself in her and rafes bathroom sobbing with the stuffed bunny in her clutches. Rafe is in their room and he hears her entire breakdown, it’s eating him alive. He didn’t have to be so mean to her, she already gave him 2 kids, so what she forgot to iron a shirt? She’s growing a baby. His baby.

Reader comes out with tears down her face and starts prepping everyone’s clothes for the week, it’s 11 pm at this point, the house is quiet, but rafes mind is going a mile per minute. He tells her that she doesn’t need to do the laundry rn, that it’s late and she should get some sleep, he just casually says that he’ll hire a housekeeper/maid to help her with the house now bc she’s got bigger things to worry abt than his stupid clothes.

“Money can’t fix all our problems Rafe”

Reader is just baffled at how quick he tries to throw money at the problem. Just hire a maid, hire a housekeeper, hire a chef, hire a babysitter. He can’t throw money at this problem tho, she’s unhappy and he sees that. It’s hard to pretend now. The reality is staring him in the face.

He tries to hug her bc she’s still crying maybe she just rejects it fully and she just says “I don’t know if I can live like this anymore”

Now he’s freaking out. Is she trying to leave him? Is there another man? Are their children actually his?

She just stares outside to the ocean. “ maybe I’ll just walk into the sea and let it take me, anywhere is better than here right now.”

Rafe literally stops in his tracks once he understands the gravity of what she’s saying. He gets her a therapist that next morning.

stuffed bunnies & silence

content warnings (cw): emotional neglect, verbal argument, pregnancy-related depression, implied prenatal anxiety, crying breakdown, child emotional awareness, emotional vulnerability, themes of exhaustion and isolation in motherhood

you forgot to iron his shirt.

it wasn’t on purpose. you’d meant to. you always did. but this morning your head was heavy and your back hurt and the second your eyes opened, the nausea rolled in like a wave. so no, you didn’t iron the shirt. and now rafe’s standing in the doorway, holding it up like some kind of trophy in a screaming match you didn’t want to be a part of.

“you don’t do anything anymore,” he snaps. “you just fucking lay around all day. i have to do everything myself.”

you don’t say anything.

you just look at him with wet eyes, lip trembling, shoulders drawn in tight. your hand instinctively covers your belly, not even showing yet, but already wrecking you. your body, your mind, your heart. everything hurts, and he’s acting like a wrinkled shirt is the end of the goddamn world.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, yanking it on and brushing past you. “don’t just fucking stand there like a kicked puppy. say something.”

but you can’t.

so you hide.

you find yourself in your daughter’s room, the softest place in the house. she’s on the floor with her dolls, her legs tangled in a blanket, humming to herself. you sit with her, quiet, letting her hand you teacups and glittery plastic spoons. at some point your son wanders in and settles beside you, and they start playing a movie — one you used to love when you were a kid. you stare at the screen but you’re not really watching.

your daughter notices. she always does.

“mommy?” she asks gently.

you hum in response, too tired to speak.

“why you sad?”

your throat tightens. you force a smile, stroking her hair.

“just tired, baby. the baby’s makin’ mommy real sleepy.”

she nods like she understands. then disappears and returns with her favorite stuffed bunny — soft and worn down, with one floppy ear and a stitched-up leg. she sets it in your lap.

“she helps me sleep when i’m sad. you can borrow her.”

that’s when your chest breaks. you hug her tight and thank her, barely holding it together.

bedtime comes. the house goes still. you slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind you. you sit on the cold tile and cry into that bunny until your chest aches and your face is blotchy. deep, ugly sobs. it’s not just the pregnancy. it’s everything. you’re drowning, and no one sees it but you.

except rafe hears.

he’s on the other side of the door, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. his shirt is wrinkled and suddenly he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. you’re growing his third kid, and he made you cry over a goddamn shirt.

when you come out, your face is swollen and your nose is red, but you keep moving. you head straight to the laundry room and start folding clothes. it’s past 11. you haven’t eaten. your legs shake a little.

“you don’t have to do that right now,” rafe says quietly. “it’s late. come to bed. i’ll hire someone. a maid. a housekeeper. whatever you need. you shouldn’t have to do all this.”

you pause.

and then, with that same quiet voice you’ve had all day, you look at him and say:

“money can’t fix all our problems, rafe.”

and for once, he doesn’t have anything to say. because you’re right. and this time, he can’t throw money at the wreckage and pretend it’s fine. not when you’re standing there, holding a child’s stuffed bunny like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart

[rooniearts]

What's your drawing process like? Do you do silhoutte sketches, or start with shapes or are you just so used to drawing Sonic characters you can draw their outlines ~first try with minimal edits?

I strive to be able to draw like that digitally 😭 I'm great at drawing characters super easily via traditional (pencil + sketch book) but digital always makes me make it super perfect and it always takes a few hours compared to around ~20 minutes for a character 😢

I think it's easier for me to just show you than it is for me to explain so here's a quick timelapse!For about 99.9% of the drawings you see on my blog, I don't do sketches and just go straight for the lineart :'D This one took me about 10 to 15 minutes for reference! Though usually I take a lot longer to finish drawings, but that's just because I get severely distracted every two seconds haha

But you're so right, digital art just inherently encourages severe perfectionism and it's really hard to shake, unfortunately. As you can probably tell from the timelapse, I'm guilty of doing it constantly too :') A fun thing you could do to try to improve that though is a lil speed art challenge. Set an alarm for 15-20 minutes to start with and try to draw a character in that amount of time, and then move on no matter how bad it may turn out. It'll teach ya to work with the imperfections and improvise instead of just pressing ctrl+Z over and over again :] You can decrease that time limit as you improve!

I also find that using a more pencil- or crayon-like brush helps with mistakes feeling more acceptable, so try that while you practice!

And lastly, know that it takes time. Drawing is like a muscle that needs to slowly but surely be trained up. So be patient with yourself.

[gpcwsl]

teen reader who has sh scars across her body and one day when they are changing someone from the team sees but brings it up to leah who overreacts about it.

Sorry I changed it a little, I guess.

Leah Williamson x Teen Reader

Someone

WC: 2048

Leah Williamson MasterList

MasterList

Warnings: Self-harm, Mental health struggles, Anxiety/panic, Emotional distress, Mentions of alcohol (party setting), Depression themes, Supportive response (no graphic detail)

-

The fluorescent lights of the changing room stung your tired eyes as you stepped inside, the heavy thud of your boots against the tile echoing slightly louder than usual. It was too early, and your head was still spinning from last night—not from anything illegal or dangerous, just the overwhelming blur of a party you probably shouldn’t have gone to.

You tried to act normal. You forced a smile at Caitlin, nodded at Lotte, and made your way to your locker. But you could already feel it.

The shift.

The silence.

Someone noticed.

“Wait—what’s that?” Beth’s voice cut through the low chatter. You didn’t look up fast enough to pretend you hadn’t heard.

“What’s on your arm?” Katie added, already walking over before you could tug your sleeve down.

You froze.

The locker room suddenly felt smaller.

Too many eyes.

Your arms were covered in faint, fresh scars—some shallow, some darker, some still healing. They peeked out just under your short sleeves, and there was no use hiding them anymore.

“Did you fall?” Victoria asked gently. “Like, at the party last night?

“Guys, maybe don’t crowd her,” Alessia said, but her voice was tinged with the same concern.

You could feel it building—panic, heat, shame. You didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Y/N.”

That voice made everyone step back just slightly.

Leah Williamson had entered. Vice captain. The protector of all things Arsenal. And she was staring straight at you.

You tried to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t wanna—”

“What happened?” she cut in, more forceful than anyone else. “Where did those come from?”

Her voice wasn’t angry. It was scared. Frustrated. Like she needed an answer right now or she’d fall apart herself.

Kim walked in right after, eyeing the tension. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N’s got scars on her arms,” Katie said softly. “We’re just… asking.”

Kim stepped forward, her expression serious but not overbearing. “If something’s going on, you can tell us. No pressure. But you’re not alone, alright?”

You nodded, but didn’t speak. You didn’t know how.

Leah stepped closer, her eyes locked onto yours, barely blinking. “Did someone do this to you?” she asked, voice cracking slightly.

“No,” you said, finally. “It’s… it’s just been hard. That’s all. Last night didn’t help. I’m just tired.”

Leah exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, voice small.

“I know,” she replied, softer now. “But next time, talk to someone. Me. Kim. Anyone. We’re your teammates—but we’re also your family. And I won’t let you carry this by yourself.”

Kim nodded, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

And just like that, the changing room wasn’t cold anymore. You weren’t just a teenager surrounded by elite players—you were one of them. And they weren’t letting you fall.

-

Training didn’t start for another thirty minutes, but no one moved.

You sat on the bench near your locker, arms tucked close to your body—not because you were cold, but because being seen like this made you feel vulnerable. Too exposed. Too real.

But Leah sat next to you. Quiet, steady. Not crowding, just there.

She didn’t need to say anything yet. Her presence was loud enough.

Kim stood nearby, leaning against a locker with her arms crossed. Calm. Observing. Her eyes weren’t sharp—they were soft. Concerned, but not pushy. You could feel the care without a single word being said.

Around the room, the others slowly began moving again. The tension was still there, but it had softened. Shifted into something gentler. Compassionate.

Caitlin walked past and handed you a bottle of water without saying a word. Katie brushed your arm lightly and gave you the smallest nod, a silent I’m here if you need me.

Beth lingered a moment near the lockers before slipping into her training kit. You could tell she wanted to say something, but she knew not to press.

You kept your head down.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” you muttered.

Leah looked over. “You didn’t mean to,” she said carefully. “But you still did.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

That made Kim speak for the first time, her voice quiet but strong. “Well, that was never going to happen.”

Leah nodded. “You’re part of this team. We notice when our own isn’t okay.”

“I didn’t want to make it a thing,” you admitted, the words tumbling out. “It was just a bad night. It’s not like—”

“Hey,” Leah cut in gently, “you don’t have to explain anything if you’re not ready. But don’t downplay it either.”

Kim knelt slightly to be level with you. “You’re young, yeah. But you’re here for a reason. And being tough on the pitch doesn’t mean you have to carry things alone off it.”

You nodded slowly, blinking back the emotion that suddenly felt like too much.

“I’m trying.”

“That’s all we ask,” Kim said. “Try—and let us be there for you when it gets hard.”

Leah gave your shoulder a soft squeeze. “And if anything ever happens again—anything—you come to us. Me. Kim. Anyone. We’ve got you. No matter what.”

You nodded again. “Okay. I will.”

“Good,” Kim said, standing upright again. “Now let’s get dressed. We’ve got twenty minutes before Rénne starts yelling.”

Leah stood too, offering you her hand to help you up. You took it.

And for the first time that morning, your body didn’t feel so heavy.

You still had things to work through. Maybe a long way to go. But now, you knew this team wasn’t just your squad—they were your family.

And they weren’t letting you walk through this alone.

-

Training had finished hours ago. The sun had already dipped behind the trees outside London Colney, casting a soft gold glow through the window of the recovery room. Most of the team had left—some heading home, some staying behind for extra gym work.

But Leah lingered.

And so had you.

You sat on one of the padded benches, legs swinging gently off the edge, arms loosely around your knees. You didn’t expect Leah to still be here. You thought she’d left with the others.

But she walked in with two mugs—tea, of course—and handed you one like it was second nature.

“You looked like you needed it,” she said softly.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, wrapping your hands around the mug even though it was still too hot.

She sat across from you, not too close. Giving you space. Not demanding anything.

You stared at your tea for a long time before you spoke. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Leah didn’t push. Just waited.

“I don’t even know why I went to that party,” you said eventually. “Everyone was drinking, being loud. It was like I was there, but not really there, y’know?”

She nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”

“And I just…” You swallowed hard. “I left early. Went home alone. Sat in my room and everything just felt… loud. Like my brain wouldn’t shut up.”

Leah’s eyes never left yours. You could tell she was really listening.

“So I did something stupid,” you said, looking down at your arms. “Not to hurt anyone. Not even to really hurt myself. Just… to feel something different.”

The silence stretched for a moment. Not uncomfortable—just real.

You looked up, expecting disappointment, maybe pity.

But Leah’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re not stupid,” she said gently. “You’re human. And hurting doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back. “I didn’t want anyone to see.”

“And yet,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “a part of you still wore short sleeves.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to,” she said, “or maybe some part of you wanted us to notice. Maybe you didn’t want to hide anymore.”

You sat with that for a second. She wasn’t wrong.

“I just didn’t want it to be a big thing,” you whispered.

“It’s not a big thing,” she said. “It’s your thing. And that means it matters.”

You wiped your face with your sleeve, embarrassed. “You probably think I’m just a kid.”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’re strong as hell. Strong for showing up today. Strong for being honest with me now. And strong for still being here, even when it felt easier not to be.”

You stared at her for a second, overwhelmed by the weight of her kindness.

“Thanks, Leah.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“If it ever feels too heavy again—really heavy—you call me. Day or night. Doesn’t matter. I’ll show up.”

You managed a small smile. “Even if I wake you at 3 a.m.?”

“I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

You laughed, and this time, it felt genuine.

The healing wasn’t instant. But in that quiet room with tea gone lukewarm, you felt something shift.

-

It was just after midnight.

The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that makes everything in your head echo louder. Your duvet felt heavy on your legs, the air in your chest tighter with every breath. You stared at your ceiling, fists clenched in your sheets, trying to will the storm inside you to pass.

But it wasn’t passing.

It was getting worse.

You sat up, legs trembling, hands shaking, your thoughts loud and messy and fast. You didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe nothing had. Maybe it was just everything, all at once.

You looked at your phone on the nightstand.

Your reflection in the black screen scared you more than the thoughts.

And then, like muscle memory, you unlocked it.

No scrolling. No hesitating.

Just tapping on one name.

Leah.

You didn’t even think—you hit call.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Hello?”

Her voice was tired, but it cut through the noise instantly.

You couldn’t speak at first. You just breathed, uneven and shaky.

“Y/N?” she said again, more alert now. “You alright?”

“No,” you whispered. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay,” she said, instantly calm but serious. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

You struggled to get the words out, but they came. “I—I don’t know. I just—I feel like I’m losing it again. And I don’t want to do anything stupid. I just—I don’t trust myself right now.”

There was silence on the other end for half a second.

“I’m coming,” she said quickly.

-

It took 6 minutes. Till a knock was a knock at your door, soft but firm.

When you opened it, Leah didn’t say anything—she just stepped in and pulled you straight into a hug. One hand on the back of your head, the other wrapping around your shoulders, grounding you like only she could.

You melted into her, the sob catching in your throat finally breaking free.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand answers.

She sat with you on the floor of your room, back against your bed, your head on her shoulder. She held your hand like it was keeping you tethered to this world.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled at one point.

“No,” she said gently but firmly. “No sorrys. You did the exact right thing. You called me. You let someone help.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m here.”

You felt the weight start to shift. It didn’t go away completely—but now it wasn’t crushing you. Not with her there. Not with her holding you steady.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone,” she murmured. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that. But by the time your breathing had calmed and the tears had stopped, the world didn’t feel quite as terrifying.

You were still here.

And Leah was still holding on.

[rafessecret]

Hi! I found your page today and I’m absolutely OBSESSED with it 🫠 your fics have me in a mess, specially the stepsis series ✨

Can I request a stepbro rafe with him being his usual cocky, always-winning self while hanging out with his friends and stepsis, but at some point she feels humiliated when his friends and him take things too far (specially after last time, when she heard them speaking about her). Instead of just letting it slide, she makes it clear she’s feeling upset and humiliated, and wants Rafe to know somehow even if he doesn’t care. But this time, maybe the 1% of softness and feelings in him kick in and he does care, like when he beat up his friends for her, and he does something to make it up and draw a line with his friends. Just angst, fluff and smut afterwards if he wants to prove to reader he cares or if she makes him pay in bed to somehow “make him pay” for letting his friends go too far.

I know my explanation was probably a mess but I just want everything, everywhere, all at once with the stepsis series and my mind can’t seem to decide 🥲🫠🩷

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

CALL ME YOUR EVERYTHING.

The night had started like it always did.

You were curled in the corner of the sectional, knees drawn up under your little skirt, legs bare, sipping soda through a bendy straw you chewed on nervously. Your hair was soft around your face, lips glossy, your whole body trying to disappear into the cushions while the boys shouted over each other, beer cans rattling, laughter echoing off the walls.

The TV played quietly behind them—nobody cared what was on. Rafe was at the centre of everything, of course. Slouched back like a prince in a throne, legs wide open, his arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, half-smiling like he was the sharpest blade in the drawer. And he was watching you. Off and on. He always did.

And still, you should’ve known better. You always became the joke.

It started with Kelce. He made some offhand comment about how you were always around, always looking so innocent—too innocent, he said. Too giggly. Too clingy. Like a puppy. Then Topper chimed in, snorting something about your skirts, the way they barely covered anything.

❝Bet she wants someone to see,❞ he joked, laughing loud and sharp. ❝Probably sleeps like that too.❞ More laughter. Deeper this time. Meaner. ❝She does,❞ Rafe added, mouth curling into a grin, voice just cocky enough to make you freeze. ❝Always prancing around the house in that shit. You think it’s an accident?❞

That stung. Not after what you heard last time. Not after creeping down the hall and catching the tail end of a conversation you were never meant to hear. About how you looked when you bent over. How you walked. How Rafe joked you were probably dumb enough to let it happen if they ever tried something.

The room kept laughing. And you—you broke. ❝You think it’s funny?❞ Your voice was shaking, cracking open. ❝Talking about me like that? Like I’m just some thing? God, I heard what you said last time, Rafe. You all sounded fucking disgusting.❞

Silence. Instant and total. Kelce blinked. Topper muttered something under his breath. Rafe sat up straighter, eyes darkening, but you didn’t wait for whatever excuse was coming. You slammed your drink down, hands trembling, and stormed out of the room—face hot, eyes glassy, mouth twisted with humiliation.

Your bedroom door didn’t slam behind you. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. You just paced. You couldn’t stop. Your hands were fists. Your lip was trembling. You kept wiping at your eyes, furious with yourself for crying. And then— Footsteps. Heavy ones.

Rafe.

He opened the door without knocking, stepping into your space like it was his. You flinched. That hit him hard.

❝Hey, sweetheart—❞ he started. ❝Don’t.❞ You slapped his hand away when he reached for your arm. ❝Don’t pretend like you care now. You said worse before. You laughed.❞ Your voice wobbled, wet and furious. ❝Do you even know what it feels like? Being talked about like that? Like I’m… like I’m something dirty?❞ Rafe’s jaw was clenched tight. His chest was heaving. He didn’t say anything. You saw the guilt crawl in. But it was too late. And then—

Another laugh. From the hallway. Kelce again. ❝Maybe she likes it,❞ you heard. ❝All that attention—❞ You barely blinked before Rafe was gone. A blur of movement. Footsteps turning violent. Then came the shouting. Rafe’s voice thundered through the walls. Not cocky anymore. Not smug. Just furious.

❝You don’t fucking talk about her like that!❞ A loud crash. The sound of glass. Furniture scraping. A punch. Another. Groaning. Screaming. You stood frozen by your bed, hands over your mouth. By the time he came back, his knuckles were red and raw, his shirt wrinkled, and his hair messy from whatever fight had just exploded in the living room.

But his voice? Soft. ❝I made them leave.❞ He wiped his hand on his jeans. ❝They’re not going to say a single fucking word about you again. Not one. I swear.❞ You looked at him—eyes wide, cheeks blotchy. Still trembling. Rafe stepped closer. All the cockiness was gone now. His shoulders drooped like a kicked dog. He sank to his knees in front of you.

❝I’m sorry.❞ His voice cracked, for real this time. ❝I was trying to be cool. I was trying to show off. And it was so fucking stupid. You’re not… you’re not a joke. Not to me. Not ever.❞ You didn’t answer. Just kept staring down at him like you didn’t recognise him anymore. And Rafe, that big bear of a boy, looked suddenly so small.

His fingers curled around the edge of your skirt. Gently. Like he thought you might shove him away. ❝I meant none of it. I swear. They were laughing, and I—I just wanted to win. But I hurt you. And I hate that.❞ You bit your lip. Voice barely a whisper: ❝Why would you do that to me?❞

Rafe’s lips pressed to your stomach, soft and shaky. ❝You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re mine. You always have been.❞ Another kiss. Lower this time. ❝They don’t get to talk about you.❞ He looked up at you, blue eyes soft and begging. ❝Only I do. And I only talk when I’m telling you how fucking good you are. How sweet. How perfect.❞ Your hands found his hair. Tugged gently. You could’ve told him to leave. To go lick his wounds and think about what he’d done.

But you didn’t. You slid to the floor in front of him. Kissed his bruised knuckles. ❝Then prove it.❞

And that was all it took. Rafe pulled you into his chest like he never wanted to let go again—arms wrapped tight, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and need. He was still trembling, still running on guilt and adrenaline, but his hands were greedy now, sliding under your thighs, your skirt, gripping like he could make up for everything just by touching you hard enough. He walked you backward to the bed, lips dragging down your throat, voice thick and low as he whispered apologies between kisses, ❝I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck—let me make it up to you.❞ You let him lie you back and let him hover above you for a beat, looking down like you were the only thing that mattered—but when his fingers slid up your thigh and you caught his wrist, he froze.

You shifted, slowly rolling him onto his back. ❝No, baby,❞ you purred, voice sickly sweet, ❝you don’t get to make the rules tonight.❞ He blinked up at you, breath stuttering as you straddled his hips and settled over his aching cock, still covered by his sweats. You ground down just enough to feel the shape of him, the heat of him. ❝You don’t get to be the big man now. Not after that.❞

He tried to reach for your waist, but you slapped his hands away, hard enough to sting. ❝Hands behind your back, Rafe.❞ He obeyed, jaw clenched, arms sliding behind him like it physically pained him not to touch you.

You leaned in close, eyes locked on his while you tugged your panties to the side, still wearing that tiny skirt he and his friends couldn’t stop talking about. ❝You like this skirt so much, huh? All your little jokes about how I wear it just for you?❞

You sank down onto him without warning. He cried out—his head fell back, the tendons in his neck straining, his whole body shaking like he could barely take it. He was already so hard, so desperate; the pressure of being inside you after all that tension hit like a truck.

But you didn’t move.

You sat flush against him, tight and full, just watching him suffer. ❝If I’m a joke, you don’t get to cum.❞ You started rocking your hips, slow and torturous, little circles that made him groan and twitch, his knuckles white where they dug into the mattress behind him. ❝You said I was a joke, remember? That’s what jokes are for. For using. For getting teased and left aching.❞

His eyes were glassy, lips parted. ❝Please—fuck, please, baby—❞

You rolled your hips a little harder, grinding down just right, making sure every ridge of him rubbed against the slick, swollen ache inside you. His cock twitched like it was already leaking, and your clit throbbed from how hard you clenched down on him.

You leaned forward just enough to make him smell your perfume, your sweat, your slick. ❝Beg me, Rafe.❞ You licked your lips, voice syrupy and mean. ❝Beg your stupid little joke.❞

He bucked, body jerking up into yours with a desperate gasp, his thighs trembling. ❝I’m sorry, baby—shit—y-you’re not a joke, I swear. You’re everything—fuck, I’ll say anything; just let me cum, please, please—❞

You moaned sweetly and clenched even tighter, your soaked cunt making such a mess of him. You could feel it dripping out and down his balls, hear the sticky, wet sounds every time you rutted your hips forward. He was so sensitive he was shaking, every little twitch of your body pushing him closer to the edge. You could see it in his face—how close he was to cumming, untouched, with no permission and no control.

And then you laughed, a breathy little giggle, as you pulled off him entirely, leaving his cock soaked, twitching, desperate. His moan cracked in half, something high and helpless.

He looked ruined—his cock flushed dark red, glistening with your slick, his abs tensing like he was still fighting the urge to cum without you. You watched a bead of precum roll down his shaft, thick and sticky. His thighs were wet with you. Your thighs were shaking, too, messy and gleaming with slick and sweat.

You stood, sliding your panties back up slowly, smoothing your skirt down like nothing happened. His eyes were frantic and pleading, his body still tensed like he might just cum untouched from the sheer overstimulation of it all. You leaned in one last time, brushing his cheek with your fingers, nails catching on the scruff at his jaw. ❝Aww, poor baby. Want to try again? This time… call me your everything.❞

And Rafe? He would’ve done anything—let you ruin him again and again, let you milk him dry and leave him shaking in his own mess—if it meant he could be yours.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : so umm, thank you so much, you cute little angel of an anon. seriously, the detail in this was everything, and i really hope i did it justice! i'm kinda living in a bit of a sub¡rafe world right now (is this even sub? lol) but hey, it’s fun, right? anyway, love you lots, hope you enjoy!

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[e-therealife]

gf!nat headcanons

type of person to show up at your house without calling first. she figures if you're not there, she's interested as to why and is now gonna wait until you are. probably inside your room within thirty seconds flat. second story? doesn't matter. idk man she's finding a way to scale walls.

probably also jumps out to scare you when you come back.

if you have work or some obligation that you don't wanna go to, she's suddenly trying out everything possible to keep you home/get you to go out with her.

"look, we can totally fake a funeral obituary. someone'll cover your shift for that. now sit down. we've gotta figure out how i tragically died." “you're telling me [literally any food you love] doesn't sound good right now? i'll buy.” doesn't even matter if she hates the food because she just needs to keep you focused on her and doesn't want you to be stressed out about 'stupid stuff.'

rummages through your closet when she's over and tries on your clothes like it's a fashion show. definitely imitates you when she does it.

"no, you totally sound like that. i'd know."

she's sleeping in her makeup all the time. also in her clothes from the day. when you guys start spending nights together, you're wiping her makeup off for her and helping her change. soon, you swear she's wearing makeup and uncomfortable clothes more often just so you'll help her (she is), but she'd never admit to it.

not the best with physical affection, so she's always trying to get you to get sleepy first so you're cuddling up to her or so she can cuddle up to you once you fall asleep.

when you wake up in the morning, she's usually already awake, likely out buying you some really greasy or sweet breakfast. if she's still sleeping when you wake up, she will die on the hill that you were the one who was being all cuddly (despite her being literally on top of you).

tries to show you soccer tricks then fucking trips over her feet and falls on her face.

"watch this," ends up being the funniest phrase you hear from her. she's not even giving up after one attempt, especially if she's not sober.

"you didn't see that."  "what are you talking about?"  "you clearly don't even know how it's supposed to look."

late to/skips class a lot, but if you let her know you're gonna be absent and need notes, she'll be there the entire time, taking everything down so attentively. she's shushing whoever tries to talk to her. 

willing to slip into classes she's not even in. jotting down everything because she doesn't know wtf is going on.

you're potentially banned from soccer games by the team because nat gets too nervous and messes up in front of you.

alright i don't smoke but i read this thing about shotgunning and oh my GOD??? YES she's doing that if you smoke. where are fics with this because hello?

probably tries to keep you away from drinking or smoking if you haven't started yet, though.

would looove roadtrips. also so a one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh person.

loves seeing you without makeup, especially if you wear it a lot. absolutely encourages you to do whatever makes you happy and loves seeing you express yourself, but she finds little moments where you're sleeping or something all barefaced so soft. she needs you to know you can be comfortable around her.

however, if you are wearing makeup, she loves those lipstick marks a kiss can leave. or if your makeup gets messy (somehow…).

modern au

she's the type of person to send like stupid cat tiktoks and be like "this is u." also says the same thing with the most ridiculous videos of people doing stupid shit.

she's ragequitting video games left and right. if you're playing together and she dies over something stupid (ESPECIALLY if she's killed by an annoying kid or something) you just hear her mic go silent as she mutes it and curses for a minute.

if someone's fighting with her in chat she's forgotten about the game entirely and you can hear her speedtyping angrily.

if you're there in person while she's playing (which she's only doing this if you actively wanna watch. she'd never ignore you to play a game.), you get to see her start swearing at her screen (her accent def comes out for this.).

"are you fuckin' fucking with me? how is this not patched?"  "did i seriously pay for this shit?" "and he's not banned? i can't call someone a prick, and he's not banned?"  "he's hacking. i know it." “aimbot.”

also if someone's making fun of you on a game (even if you suck) she's forgetting about winning and just screwing with them the entire time instead. will sacrifice getting reported for throwing to avenge you.

definitely knows like all internet jokes so she's practically speaking in another language sometimes.

SHARING HEADPHONES and she's only using wired. rejects bluetooth. embraces it when her wires get caught on everything.

author's note: alright friends. this is my first tumblr post ever. let me know if you liked it, and feel free to chat with me! i'm pretty new to tumblr lol so i really don't know what i'm doing. i've got more stuff i'm working on right now and i'm done with finals in a week sooo stay tuned for more posts!