#it didn’t even happen for me in college

[error-523scintilla]

As a bisexual woman from and living in Panamá, if someone proudly said out loud they’re an ally I would shed tears of happiness, considering that the default here is Not Being One. Actively someone reminding us we are loved and worth standing with even if technically Not Their Problem, opening themselves to criticism from most of the population, taking the risk, is such a sweet and impactful thing to do. We are few of the countries still not having equal marriage rights, and the piece of shit that our Monseñor is, having an iron fist grip in our politics, it won’t happen soon. So someone from outside the community actively saying they love us is such a beautiful show of love to us here.

When I do tutoring as a side gig with young boys and teenage guys, and they talk to me about stuff they see online, and repeat some mysoginistic bullshit they learnt online, I concerned but patiently ask them what they mean by that. When explaining it out loud I may answer with ‘that’s so mean why would anyone say that about a girl’ with a preoccupied face, and now seeing their favorite funny math teacher looking hurt makes them think ‘wait maybe this is kind of wrong and fucked up actually’. Before that moment, have they ever stopped to think how that was wrong, when all their pals normalize the same thought process? Isn’t that what mysoginistic men online prey on for them to not find out until it explodes on their faces? And now they see their loved tutor, who’s a woman, be affected by those kind of comments when they don’t feel I fit the rhetoric, and ask how much of that stuff is then actually false. To doubt what they’ve been fed, specially in a society like the one in my country. I plant the seed of doubt, and see it bloom. I gently guide them to a place of good while teaching math.

There was this kid in 5th grade before the pandemic who I saw weekly for a few months who one day proudly told me how he defended a girl in his class, who he even kinda disliked for unrelated reasons to this post, be picked up by some other boys for being a girl or some other bullshit I don’t remember. That the stuff they were saying were mean and false and made no sense. He was so proud of standing up for what he felt was wrong and following what his nice teacher had taught him, and I congratulated him for doing a good job. It made him so so happy to be recognized. He was such a nice kid. I hope he’s doing alright now.

Nooo mutual don’t put that “men fall down the alt-right pipeline bc women/feminists are too mean” post on my dash nooo mutual don’t try to say women need to be nicer when dealing with misogynistic men nooo mutual nooo

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[quarterlifekitty]

Read buttermilk today and now @ceilidho got me on that babysitter grindset… but what if I freaked it up a little.

cw: age gap (reader is around 21 and Soap is like 29ish), something sorta flirting with/on the edge of fauxcest due to a sibling-like bond, so I’m gonna tag it as such just in case.

Before Johnny enlisted, he’d only ever had one paying job.

Taking care of you.

About eight years your senior, your mom decided to go back to working when you were around 4 and he was on the cusp of 13. And for 5 years (an eternity to a kid like you) he was your best friend in the world. Would get out of school, walk to the elementary school to get you, bring you home, and hang out until whenever your parents got off of work.

And the boy was devoted. Didn’t mind that he had to put off hanging with his friends till the weekend. Didn’t mind making your snacks or watching silly kids movies. Didn’t mind when you asked him to play pretend veterinarian with you, and he had to lay down and act like a really sick horse. And you loved him.

The first time your parents took you on a vacation and you realized he wouldn’t be there? You were so mad. As mad as a 4 year old can be.

You’re embarrassed when you cry at the news that he’s enlisting— at age 10 you’re not supposed to cry anymore, you’re a big girl. He hugs you so tight, early in the morning before he has to go.

His folks move during his first tour. There isn’t an anchor to bring him back to you for a very long time. Over a decade, as it turns out.

He’s getting ready to go on leave when he gets a call— his mum buzzing with some kind of gossip as usual.

“You’ll never guess who I saw down at Sainsbury’s—“

Your university happens to be in the town his family moved to. He has his own place now of course, but he likes to keep close to them.

His first night back and his mum is beside herself— trying to get the place nice, because you’re joining them for dinner. Johnny never even considers that when you come to the door, you’re not the little girl he left tearing up on her parents porch.

He has to remember to close his mouth at the sight of you. His dad offers you a beer for fuck’s sake. He’s amazed at how much has changed— but also, how much is the same. The curve of your nose, and bubble of your laughter, the way your eyes widen with interest.

You happen to be on break right now. So of course, he ends up unwittingly spending all of his leave with you. You were always a funny kid— you’re a lot funnier now that you can swear. And you were always cute but now you’re so… pretty.

And he is not a fucking fan of the kind of attention it gets you. The way guys look at you when you’re sitting alone, waiting for him at a coffee shop. How your phone goes off at least once every 20 minutes, and it’s almost always ‘this guy from your class’. He tells himself that it’s just because he was responsible for you for so long— that he’s just having trouble shaking that off. He just remembers when you were so innocent— he doesn’t wanna see you get chewed up and spit out by college boys.

And he keeps finding himself falling into old patterns. Making you stay still so he can wipe your mouth after having a bit of a messy danish. Holding your hand tight when you’re in a busy place, crossing any streets. Having you tell him what you want so he can order things for you. Picking you up so he can hear you giggle and tell him to put you down.

He tells himself that when he touches himself later that it’s just because being away for work has left him touch starved and sensitive. It’s only natural to get turned on by a pretty girl who leans into him… especially when you get along so famously.

(Even though he remembers playing I spy while he held your hand and walked you home from school, your little backpack slung over his shoulder, even though he had his own to carry. )

Before he knows it, it’s his last night at home, ending it off with another of his mum’s dinners. At the table you casually mention the graduate schools you’re thinking of going to— some close by, some not. He almost chokes when you mention that there’s a really nice school in Canada you were considering.

That’s when he knows he’s fucked. Because he doesn’t think of that as you getting on with your life. Of a girl getting her education. He thinks of that as losing you, and after the bliss of the past couple of weeks he’s had with you, he’s not sure he’ll take being separated from you nearly as long as he did the last time. Not to mention all of the guys at your school trying to get their hands on you.

So he’s gonna have to find a way to get you too invested to travel far. And figure out how to protect you from those assholes when he’s not around.

Making you a part of his family and putting his ring on your finger should be enough, right?

[writerdownbookworder]

The first few times, I didn’t understand why everything felt so familiar. I would wake up at 16 with nothing but vague dreams from every time before. My room sometimes looked different than I thought it should. Eventually, I started to keep a diary. Strangely, it always stuck around when the clock reset. 

That was how I figured out the timeline. 30 whole years. I lived from 16 to 35, and on the morning of my 46th birthday, I would wake up at 16 again. 

Once I realized what was happening, I tried to make the best of it. I lived each time out differently, reading about everything I had done before in my diary.

One time, I married my best friend. The next, I married someone I met in college. A few times, I didn’t get married, once I didn’t go to college.

I had four kids after I graduated, then one kid during college, then no kids at all.

Once, I had a kid before I was even out of high school. 

Saved my father’s life, didn’t get there in time.

Got arrested (only made that mistake once), became a bad influence, became a good one.

Got an office job, worked as a police officer, tried my hand at acting, singing, dancing, tried graphic design.

Made friends, lost friends, made more.

I made plenty of mistakes, especially in the beginning. But then, doesn’t everyone? Some of them I made over and over again, but some mistakes you only make once.

I never figured out what was causing me to reset my life. 

But I didn’t really care.

See, most people only get one life, no matter how long or short it is.

My life may have only been 30 years, but I got to do it over and over again, however I wanted.

In my opinion, that’s a gift.

I love my life.

You are caught in a time loop but instead of resetting you daily, it resets you every 30 years

[diamonddaze01]

Haiiii it's me again! Yes me the one who requested for jeonghan drabble. I wanna tell you that you wrote it so beautifully. The last part hit right into my heart. You conveyed every emotion so perfectly. I loved it!

I wanna request for another jeonghan drabble no. 70. Make them be rivals yk enemies to lovers. I love that trope. Oh and if you make jeonghan jealous in that fic it'll be sooo good!

Lastly love you <3333

sore memories

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "I didn't realize I needed your permission." au: college au | warnings: mentions of sex a/n: hello you are so so sweet! thank you for coming off anon to introduce yourself! I hope you love this as much as mafia!hannie

The party was alive with music, laughter, and too many faces you didn’t care to remember. Somewhere in the haze of flashing lights and sticky floors, you were trying to lose yourself in the evening. The guy in front of you—tall, generic, and charming enough—was speaking, but you weren’t listening. Not really.

Not when you could feel Jeonghan’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

He leaned casually against the far wall, a picture of ease, holding a drink he probably wasn’t even sipping. His dark hair fell just enough into his eyes to look unintentional, and his lips curled in that signature smirk that could both captivate and infuriate. You hated how often it did the latter.

And, like clockwork, it started again—the simmering irritation in your chest, the sense that wherever Jeonghan was, peace was not. It always came back to this—the constant back and forth, the verbal sparring that sparked every time you crossed paths. You’d known Jeonghan for years, and if you could go back and change one thing, it would be meeting him.

It had started your first year of college, at a party much like this one. Jeonghan had been a stranger then, someone with an effortless charm that made people gravitate toward him. He’d introduced himself with that smirk of his, cocky and self-assured in a way that should’ve been a warning. Instead, you’d found yourself drawn to him, his easy banter and sparkling eyes too intriguing to resist.

By the end of the night, you’d ended up in his bed, tangled in his sheets and his laughter. For a fleeting moment, it had felt like something real.

Until you woke up the next morning to find the bed empty. No Jeonghan. Just a hastily scribbled note on his pillow.

“Thanks for the fun. See you around.”

The humiliation had crawled through your chest like a slow burn, leaving behind a simmering anger that hadn’t dulled with time. You’d told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the sting of his absence—and that damned note—had never quite faded.

It wasn’t just the note, though. It was the way Jeonghan acted after, like nothing had happened. Like you were just another face in the crowd. The way he leaned into every conversation with a smirk, always teasing, always too close. Like he enjoyed watching you bristle.

And now, years later, nothing had changed. Except maybe everything had, because the resentment wasn’t enough to drown out the spark that flared every time you locked eyes with him.

You looked away, focusing on the man in front of you. He was tall, his voice smooth, but the words might as well have been water hitting glass. You nodded along out of politeness, sipping your drink and willing yourself to stay in the moment.

But Jeonghan was watching. You could feel it—the subtle weight of his gaze, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

And, inevitably, he approached. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in pretending to care about whatever the guy was saying. But then came the unmistakable sensation of being under a spotlight, the air around you shifting with his presence.

“Having fun?” His voice was warm honey with a razor’s edge.

Your grip tightened slightly on your cup as you turned to him, your smile thin. “I was.”

Jeonghan chuckled, a low sound that sent an unwanted flicker of heat through you. His eyes roved over you briefly, his gaze lingering like he was assessing your armor. He tilted his head toward the guy who had already started to drift away. “That guy,” he said with mock interest. “He your type?”

You let out a sharp exhale, already bracing for the inevitable headache. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he replied, his smirk widening just enough to betray the lie. His eyes sparkled with something teasing, as though you were his favorite game to play. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who’d settle for boring.”

Your jaw clenched, your nails biting into the plastic of your cup. “And you would know, wouldn’t you?”

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face—too fast to name but heavy enough to make you pause. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual nonchalance. “Touché,” he murmured.

He stepped closer, and you fought the instinct to take a step back. He had a way of closing the space between you with casual arrogance, like the mere act of breathing the same air was his right.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Jeonghan pressed, his voice soft but insistent, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

The irritation bubbled over. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

His smirk faltered, just slightly, and you caught the faintest hint of something raw in his expression. His fingers curled around the rim of his cup, tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now, steadier. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend I don’t care.”

For a moment, the noise of the party faded, the world narrowing to just the two of you. You opened your mouth to retort, but the look in his eyes stopped you short. There was something unnervingly honest there, a vulnerability that threw you off balance.

“You don’t get to do this,” you said finally, your voice quieter but no less pointed. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated motion that sent a few strands falling messily across his forehead. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of his words was too much. “That night—I left because I didn’t know what else to do. I woke up, and it scared the hell out of me how much I wanted to stay. So, I ran. And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

The confession hit like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers tightened around your cup, and you looked away, your vision blurring slightly as the memory of that morning resurfaced.

“You left a note,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know,” he said, his tone softer now, tinged with guilt. “It was a coward’s move. But believe me when I say, it wasn’t because you didn’t matter.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, searching for any sign of insincerity. But his body betrayed no games, no walls. His hands fidgeted with his cup, his posture slightly tense, and for the first time, he didn’t seem so untouchable.

“Why now?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His lips parted, his tongue darting out briefly to wet them before he answered. “Because I’m tired,” he said simply, his shoulders squaring again as if he’d made some unspoken decision. “Tired of pretending I don’t care, tired of seeing you with guys who’ll never know you the way I do.”

His gaze burned into yours, unyielding, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him.

“Say the word,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly, sending a jolt through your skin. “And I’ll walk away. But don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You swallowed hard, the words lodged in your throat as your chest tightened. Your gaze dropped to the floor, your heart warring with your pride.

“You don’t get to break my heart twice,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The faint tremor in your words made his expression crumble, his hand reaching out hesitantly before falling back to his side. “I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone catching you off guard. “Not this time.”

And for the first time in years, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[pbelfz]

Two to One | 15 |

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Midoriya Chapter Title: Spilled Milk Chapter 14 | Chapter 16 Story Masterlist Summary: You are a simple college girl working at a cheap, back alley café! The top heroes, Deku and Ground Zero, visit your work in hopes of ordering coffee, but they pick something else up instead. You begin an interesting relationship with the pair, while slowly becoming aware of certain underhanded tactics they are using. Idolization isn't always that bad… Right?

WARNINGS: gaslighting, domestic violence, alcohol

“You’re WHAT?!”

Hana gaped back at (Y/n), trying to ensure she heard her correctly. (Y/n) smiled sadly at Hana.

“I just… got an opportunity elsewhere…,” she attempted to be vague. Hana didn’t look convinced.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans.”

(Y/n) gawked. “No–! And even if I was…,” she made a face at Hana. Hana tutted.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans without me,” she repeated, now laughing. The morning rush shift had slowed down to a nonexistent teeter. (Y/n) smiled at Hana’s comment as she cleaned one of the tables in the dining area of the quaint restaurant. Hana groaned, leaning back with her elbows on the countertop, her head tilting toward the ceiling.

“What am I gonna do without you here?!” Hana groaned at her best friend. (Y/n) announced that she put her two weeks in yesterday when Hana was off. Their manager flipped her shit, but Hana argued that she had it coming and that (Y/n) quitting should be the least of her worries. (Y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno. I’ll still stop by for some lattes. Give you guys some business with my big Only Fans money.”

Hana shook her head. “I’m gonna put my two weeks in tomorrow. Or I might just dip after today and not come back.” Hana’s curls bounced as she turned to check to make sure their manager was in the café backroom. Deep in the café backroom.

“You should stay for the chance of running into Shoto,” (Y/n) recommended, leaning on her elbows on the cashier counter. Katsuki and Izuku had been frequenting their café much more often lately, and she and Hana kid that it was only a matter of time before word of Sato’s traveled to Pro Hero Shoto. However, Hana still shook her head.

“What do you mean? We’re married. I see him every night. Work is my chance to get away from him!” She gave (Y/n) a coy smile. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, grinning, smacking Hana’s arm with a small hand towel.

“Shut up!”

Izuku and Katsuki threw themselves headfirst into their work, and (Y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like she expected things to change after she finally had sex, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the experience wasn’t as life-changing as it was all made out to be.

What was that feeling? That persistent nudging tug in the depths of her mind and gut, telling her that something more should be happening now, either between her, Izuku, and Katsuki or in her life? Disappointment? She lost her virginity to one of the most famous pro heroes in Japan, and the experience wasn’t anything less than euphoric. What was there to be disappointed about?

Maybe how neither Izuku nor Katsuki recognized (Y/n)’s perceived loss of innocence. (Y/n) considered bitterly whether there was even any innocence to ‘lose’, and why would having sex make her any less innocent? Was she dirty now? No, no. That’s not it. (Y/n) didn’t expect the heroes to celebrate or anything of that nature. That’d be rather disturbing. What was she expecting, though? Nothing ultimately changed after the intercourse. Not herself, not really. Not Katsuki. Not Izuku. What the hell even was virginity?

Did she want them to change? What more did she want to come from that experience?

“Izuku?” She called, sitting on the couch one night. It was late; Izuku had just gotten home from a 16-hour shift. (Y/n) never really knew if he and Katsuki chose to work that long willingly – their hours seemed flexible – but she did notice that Katsuki seemed to know his limits and take scheduled breaks throughout the day. She couldn’t say the same about Izuku.

“Yeah?” Izuku replied half-heartedly. He obviously didn’t want to speak to anybody right now. He was digging through the fridge, looking for leftovers to wolf down. (Y/n) was convinced that Katsuki was the only reason why Izuku remembered to even eat and shower or even take care of himself at all. Katsuki’s footsteps could be heard upstairs; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower himself.

“What’s virginity?” (Y/n) blurted obtusely.

The shuffling of plastic containers and cartons in the fridge stopped. Izuku stood upright.

“What?”          

He sounded incredulous. (Y/n) didn’t want to look at him because she was so ashamed of her question.

“What’s virginity?” She repeated, a little louder and snappier, in case he didn’t hear her. Izuku looked at the back of her head with a wild stare.

“(Y/n), I’m not–,“ Izuku was not in the mood for whatever she was talking about.

“And what’s the point of it?” (Y/n) continued. Izuku dragged a hand down his face.

“I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for,” he was blunt, more blunt than he cared to be. He was exhausted. He just wanted to eat something, go to bed and turn the world off, not deal with whatever emotional turmoil (Y/n) was feeling.

“I just… don’t feel any different,” (Y/n) pondered aloud, not caring if Izuku wanted to talk or not.

She heard the fridge door shut and footsteps approach. “Uh, good?” Izuku spoke with a mouth full of chicken, which he didn’t even bother to heat up. “It’d be weird if you felt different after having sex?” Izuku stared down at her oddly. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean there’s, like…,” she made vague gestures with her hands. “It’s like nothing even happened.”

Izuku was tired, and when Izuku was tired, it was like talking to a brick wall. He was just as stubborn as Katsuki, if not more. This conversation was going nowhere. He swallowed the food he was chewing and shook his head, shrugging.

“I don’t know what to say.”

(Y/n) sighed, frustrated. She got off the couch and stormed up the stairs. “Ugh. Forget it.”

Izuku made his way over to claim the spot on the couch she left, continuing to eat his food.

Okay. (Y/n) can admit that she was being a little fussy. She blew by Katsuki, who was bent over in the middle of the hall replacing his bath items into the closet, and retreated into the bedroom.

Katsuki’s hair was still damp from his shower. He blinked, watching as she disappeared into the bedroom but left the door wide open. Katsuki stared at the door for a minute before inhaling slowly and letting out a sigh. He stood, closed the closet, and rubbed the back of his neck as he hesitantly followed after (Y/n).

He stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. (Y/n) was on the bed, scrolling on her phone, obviously upset. Katsuki was debating whether he should bite or turn and walk away. Whenever he or Izuku gets into a bad mood, they typically avoid each other lest it blow up in their faces. He didn’t know how this would turn out with (Y/n).

He’ll bite. (Y/n) was more sensitive than Deku. She needed different things than he did. Katsuki was still learning.

He shifted his weight, feeling stiff. “Something happen?”

“No,” came the sharp reply. Katsuki blinked, and his face soured. Katsuki hadn’t heard her use that tone with him before.

“What?” He snapped back.

(Y/n) didn’t look up at him, still scrolling on her phone. “I said, no, nothing happened.”

Katsuki stared at her. “Okay, but something obviously did? Your attitude is shit right now.”

(Y/n) shrugged and shook her head. “Your attitude is always shit. What, I’m not allowed to be upset about something?”

Katsuki threw his head back and closed his eyes. He took a breath. Calm down. “So, something did happen?”

(Y/n) groaned, rolling her eyes. “You guys just… practically ignore me!” She blurted. “You’re never here! I moved out of my apartment, I put my two weeks in at my job for you, and you guys don’t even seem grateful… My whole life is about to change…”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Us? Grateful? We are paying your tuitionfor your shitty education. We are giving you free housing in one of the safest neighborhoods in Japan. We are giving you complete access to your own bank account with millions of yen already in it with no strings attached. If there’s anyone that should be grateful, I’m looking right at her.”

(Y/n) was teary-eyed at Katsuki’s harsh words. She yelled at him, “What if I was fine before all of that?!”

“Then leave!”

Izuku came up the stairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, and despite the argument, he didn’t appear urgent. “What’s going–“

“Go back to your shitty life. I don’t care,” Katsuki turned and disengaged, going downstairs and leaving (Y/n) crying on the bed.

Izuku could barely stand on two legs from exhaustion, but he relented the fact that Katsuki could handle himself. If there was anyone that needed to be pacified, it was (Y/n). He had to figure out how to settle all of this before the clock struck 1 AM so they could all get to bed peacefully.

He stepped further into the bedroom, staring with dead eyes at (Y/n) as she cried on their bed. He had to push himself to keep walking forward and to sit on the bed next to her. He waited silently for her to stop crying enough to look up at him.

Eventually, her sobs simmered, and she just sniffled. She rubbed her eyes, finally meeting Izuku’s gaze. This was the first time tonight that she really could see the exhaustion on his face, and she felt guilty for making tonight about her.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asks. His voice is calm and quiet, but she hears that tinge of something else – pity.

“I, uh…,” (Y/n) starts, now unsure why she’s upset. “I guess I’m just stressed. And worried. And scared.”

Izuku looked concerned. “About?”

(Y/n) sighed, wiping her eye. “I don’t know,” she paused for a moment. “Katsuki’s right. I should be grateful for all you guys have done for me… I don’t know why I’m feeling like this.”

Izuku glanced off into the hallway, probably trying to determine where Katsuki was in the house. “Are you… not happy here with us?”

(Y/n) instantly shifted to face him fully on the bed. “No, no! That’s not it at all. I’m very happy… It’s just… different.”

He stared at her. “It doesn’t sound like you’re happy. Or look like it, either.”

(Y/n) looked at him oddly, making a point to prevent any more tears from falling. “I am. I am.”

Izuku continued watching her. (Y/n)’s phone vibrated in her hands, and she glanced at it before turning it back over.

“Did we do something to upset you?” Izuku asked. (Y/n) shook her head.

“No, you guys didn’t do anything…,” her voice trailed off.

“We obviously did. What is it?” He could be just as forthright as Katsuki. “We can’t help if we don’t know.” What little patience was left inside of Izuku this evening was nearly depleted. He was trying his hardest to remain present and serene. (Y/n) shook her head. Her phone vibrated again, and Izuku couldn’t help how his gaze flickered down at it.

(Y/n) sighed, realizing Izuku wasn’t really going to leave her alone until she spoke; however, there was an air of shame that surrounded her.

“I just… think I need more attention, maybe…,” she tried not to wince, but she wasn’t sure how well she covered up her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I know you guys have long hours…,” she trailed off once again.

Izuku nodded, “We do.”

“Um…,” she didn’t know what to say next. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I think I’m just a little emotional after…,” she referred to their night together the other week. And, now that she’d thought about it, it wasn’t like they were completely ignoring her, either. They gave her affection as much as they could, kisses and whatnot. They’d all messed around a bit since that night, but they hadn’t gone ‘all the way’ again. Maybe with each other, but not with (Y/n). She didn’t feel ready to, and she knew that upset Izuku. He didn’t say it, but he always seemed a little disappointed when he saw the hesitance in (Y/n)’s eyes and how her touch was fleeting instead of carrying the same passion they started with. It especially disappointed him how she lingered heavier on Katsuki during their intimate moments, leaving Izuku to occasionally feel like the third wheel. He didn’t want to speculate on why this would be, so he never brought attention to it in hopes that he was imagining it.

“I’m sorry,” what exactly was she apologizing for? She felt like she needed to, though. Izuku looked like he was going to fall over from exhaustion, she’d made Katsuki mad, and here she was complaining when they had given her any girl’s dream life.

Izuku was too tired to address this any further. He glanced at the hallway again to see if Katsuki had returned. He hadn’t. He must’ve banished himself to sleep downstairs on the couch.

“Let’s just go to bed, yeah?” Izuku offered.

(Y/n) sighed but reluctantly nodded, feeling like a piece of her was unfulfilled.

Katsuki and Izuku made more of an effort to attend to (Y/n) after that night by spending more time with her when they were home. It made (Y/n) feel worse because she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t satisfied with all they had given her thus far – and now she could see how they were actively trying to keep her happy on top of all of that? Why couldn’t she just be appreciative to begin with? She tried not to let the guilt eat her alive, especially when she remembered that no other person, let alone two people at once, had ever treated her this preciously.

While the two pro heroes built their relationships individually with (Y/n), tensions rose between them, and it made (Y/n) uncomfortable. She didn’t know if this was how they always were or if something recently sparked this apparent rivalry between the two men. As she spent more time settling into the home and acclimating to her new environment, she couldn’t help but notice the sly remarks or side glances they gave each other – about literally anything. Most of their spats had to do with work. (Y/n) hardly knew what truly occurred in the hero world, so she would stay out of it.

Day by day, though, her guilt faded. She felt happier and able to truly enjoy her place in their home, no longer feeling like an outsider or a guest. She was learning both of them, slowly but surely. Katsuki required a lot of attention, but he’d never outright ask for it. He’d linger around (Y/n), not exactly engaging with her but doing mindless things around the house, and he’d get defensive if she pointed it out. She appreciated it when Katsuki was more honest about his desires, especially when he came home and the first thing he did was give her a kiss. Izuku was an insufferable romantic and very different than Katsuki in that regard. He was much more comfortable showing affection, and he always prioritized his partners’ comfort over his desires.

Izuku was much more cynical than his media personality makes him out to be. Sometimes, he said things that even made Katsuki go silent.

Katsuki was also a very clean person. (Y/n) feels like he might have an oral fixation, or maybe he just really, really enjoys watching her eat his cooking. She isn’t sure.

(Y/n) was getting ready for bed, just getting out of the shower, when she heard the whack of skin coming from the kitchen. She paused, listening, her mind trying to reassure her that it wasn’t what she thought it was. The front door opened and slammed shut – someone left the house, or someone just entered. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She quickly tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying not to slip, as she still hadn’t dried off completely, peering down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She caught a glimpse of Izuku sitting at the island by himself. Whatever ruckus went down a few minutes prior no longer remained, and the house was silent. (Y/n) clutched the towel that draped around her, making sure it wasn’t going to fall, as she crept down the stairs.

Izuku glared at her as soon as she entered the kitchen, making her freeze by the door.

“What happened?” (Y/n) asked quietly. Izuku rolled his eyes, finally getting up from his barstool. He opened a kitchen drawer, the one where they kept random medicines, and rummaged through the back of it. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter he’d stashed there.

(Y/n) watched him as he lit his smoke. She’d never seen him smoke in the house before. She got a glimpse of his face, then. His cheek was red and beginning to lightly bruise. (Y/n)’s eyes widened, and immediately, she flashed back to the events at Koburi Pass. She quickly approached Izuku, cupping his face to get a better look.

“Katsuki did that…?” Her emotions were conflicted. Izuku instantly yanked his face away from her before her fingers could even touch him. He took a drag of his cigarette. Tobacco smoke filled the kitchen, and (Y/n) grimaced. She just noticed now that she was shaking. Neither she nor Izuku said anything to each other for a while. They stood together in the kitchen silently, and (Y/n) watched as Izuku finished his cigarette. He rummaged through the medicine drawer once again, pulling out another cig.

“How many…?”

Izuku cut her off, seemingly already knowing what she was going to ask. “I keep them there. He hasn’t found them yet, or if he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“Is he going to be upset that you’re smoking in the house?”

Izuku laughed bitterly, smoke blowing out with his exhale. He rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

Izuku practically refused to talk to (Y/n) about anything. The two of them just remained in each other’s presence. (Y/n) felt like he needed that more than to talk through whatever happened. He eventually went to bed, but (Y/n) stayed up. Katsuki hadn’t returned home yet, and (Y/n) had a few words to say to him.

It was around 2 AM when Katsuki returned home.

He closed the front door quietly – a complete difference from the slam hours ago. (Y/n) sat in the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk. She was nervous to see him, to get the truth of what happened. He was taking his time removing his shoes in the genkan, and it made every second feel like years. She forgot she even poured herself a glass of milk, as she stared at the entryway.

Katsuki appeared at the door of the kitchen, and his gaze immediately locked onto (Y/n). He looked a little distracted but otherwise fine. It wasn’t until he stepped further into the kitchen that she realized he was drunk.

He looked down at the untouched glass of milk in front of (Y/n).

“You spilled some,” he muttered. (Y/n) glanced down, noticing that she did indeed spill some milk on the counter when she was pouring it.

“I’ll get it,” she replied, looking back up at Katsuki. “Do you need water?”

Katsuki scoffed but smiled. “No.”

She thought she might as well confront him directly. Her resentment was teeming, “Why’d you hurt Izuku?”

The befuddled, faraway stare that Katsuki held hardened a little when she said that. He almost felt guilty. He swallowed, the alcohol loosening his lips more than he liked.

“He pissed me off,” he gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. Careless but honest.

Katsuki was always honest but never careless. (Y/n) decided then that she didn’t like this side of Katsuki. Her stomach felt tight.

“So, if I ever piss you off, you’ll do the same to me?” She snapped.

Katsuki shook his head, scowling at the ridiculousness of her question. He still stood in the doorway, almost caging her in, and (Y/n) noticed just how small she really was to them, to this big house. They stared at each other. Katsuki blinked then sighed, walking over to the fridge. (Y/n) was acutely aware of his movements, like she was locked in a room with a starving lion that circled her. The lion hadn’t pounced yet, but she could feel it in her bones that he was still eager to attack.

He shrugged, reaching for a beer from the bottom shelf – in the way back of the fridge.

“Guess not,” was his answer.

That wasn’t good enough for (Y/n), but she knew not to press the issue right now, not while he’s like this.

He popped open the beer bottle, threw away the cap, and plodded to the living room. She heard him collapse on the couch with a sigh.

(Y/n) stayed away from him for a while.

[theoldsports]

| Irish Coffee |

summary: twenty four was the wrong age for everything, except maybe picking up girls in bars at the holidays. Rafe Cameron x Reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: bars, alcohol, passing mention of sexual assault, death of a parent mention.

Rafe Cameron hated karaoke. It was shitty ego-stroking from typically the very intoxicated or the very tone deaf. He didn’t think anyone ever felt good about their performances on that rinkydink stage anyway. It was unpleasant for everyone involved. Truth be told, Rafe thought karaoke was pointless entirely. If he wanted to hear a good version of a song, he would go on Spotify and find one. He thought karaoke was a selfish sport made fun only for the singer, and never for the listener.

In summation, it was fucking stupid.

When he got in Topper’s Jeep, Rafe had been too tipsy to fully comprehend that it was karaoke night at the Swordfish. Now, with another tumbler of b-list bourbon between Rafe’s knuckles, he moped on a stool at the bar.

He felt old when he went out with Kelce, Topper and their other friends. He had started college while some of the other boys he’d grown up with were in their junior year of high school. Rafe didn’t have friends. He wasn’t good at keeping them and didn’t like it when they complained about their problems that weren’t even really problems. The persona he had crafted for dealing with friends, though, had gotten elaborate enough to where Rafe thought they didn’t notice that his heart wasn’t in it.

He didn’t have friends, he had the people he drank with. That was better than drinking alone.

Being twenty-four sucked. Too old for ragers, too young for drinks at the country club. Too many big problems to solve, but everyone thinking he was too young to solve him. Rafe wondered, if he drank enough, could he blackout the whole of his twenties and then he wake up in his thirties locked and loaded?

Some drunk whore was finishing up a song Rafe had only heard in Sofia’s car. She’d played it often. He didn’t know what it was called. It was by one of those superstar white girls with the zillion dollar concert tickets. Rafe didn’t like it. He didn’t like Sofia either anymore. He didn’t like to think about her anymore.

His heartbeat raced. His could feel it beat in his neck when he drank too much. It didn’t used to be that way. The human body couldn’t fail from misuse before thirty, could it? Rafe took a sharp inhale through his nose to push the frantic thoughts away. Everyone leaves eventually, he reminded himself; a mantra. Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

Topper was on Ruthie leaning up on the wall near a booth. They were out of commission til she got pissy at him for breathing wrong, or something, and they all had to make excuses to leave. Normal Friday night.

Rafe wished he’d stayed home.

A DJ mumbled that the next person was taking the stage, singing Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton. Arguably, this was Rafe’s favorite Christmas song because it had been his mother’s favorite Christmas song.

It was also the week before Thanksgiving and Rafe didn’t think he could stomach Christmas yet.

“Shit…” Rafe muttered into his glass of bourbon.

The girl supposed to sing was being pushed up into the tiny stage by a group of drunk girls. Presumably a bachelorette party by the looks of it. The girl onstage had a frown of surprise on her lips. It was clear to Rafe that she didn’t know this was going to happen. A girl in her party, wearing a veil headband, called out: “Please! This is our song. Please do it for me? You sound so pretty, [Y/N].”

All of her friends were calling and chanting for her to sing. The girl, [Y/N], looked embarrassed. She was very put on the spot.

Eventually, with all the cheering, pleading and encouragement, [Y/N] walked to the center of the stage where the microphone stood.

“Forgive me if this is dogshit, my friends signed me up,” The girl said over the karaoke track’s intro. A few of the girls she was with cheered. “I didn’t come to butcher Dolly in front of y’all.”

This yielded a chuckle from her audience. Rafe rolled his eyes. He was less interested in her humble act, and more interested in where he knew from. Rafe knew a lot of people, and he was starting to cling to the barstool to do what his legs were struggling to do. [Y/N] was a common enough name, but this girl looked so fucking familiar to him. His drunk mind leafed through the catalog of women in his brain. [Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N], where did he know her from?

Her clothes weren’t anything special. Standard bachelorette party fare. A little too short, but not quite slutty. She was a bridesmaid, maybe the maid of honor. Rafe wrinkled his nose in thought. His contacts stung dry against his eyes. He had stared at a screen too long in the office and now he was sitting under a vent in November. Who the hell left the A/C on in November?

[Y/N]. Rafe hadn’t hooked up with her before. He didn’t think he had, anyway. She didn’t appear to have botox in her face or filler in her top lip with the way she expressed so freely. That meant she couldn’t have been the kid of one of his dad’s business contacts.

He looked at her friends for clues. Immediately, Rafe recognized the bride. Wendy. Rafe had hooked up with Wendy a few times in high school. He was surprised to see she was still on the island; Wendy had been smarter than that. So Rafe probably knew [Y/N] from school, then. What classes had they shared? He tried to place her.

[Y/N] was working through the slow first verse. She didn’t have a perfect, trained voice. Her voice was the kind of voice that sang in the kitchen on Saturday mornings to the radio. A smirk pulled at Rafe’s lip. She wasn’t forcing it, and she wasn’t so drunk that it was pathetic to listen to. “I hate singing in front of people…” she said.

[Y/N] knelt and set down what appeared to be an Irish coffee, and put her left hand over eyes. No ring, Rafe thought. He almost puked at the thought that looking at babes in bars now came with seeing if they were married or engaged, before giving them the once over. Being twenty-four sucked. The girl swayed from side to side on her feet as she moved from the second half of the first verse to the chorus.

…Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine.

Me, I'll be just fine and dandy.

Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.

I'm barely getting through tomorrow,

But still I won't let sorrow bring me way down…

The girl took some liberties with how she improvised the line endings or creating a harmony line instead of the melody during the way too repetitive chorus. It wasn’t like she was doing something revolutionary, but she also wasn’t just up there doing a cheesy impression of Dolly.

It was a welcome change of pace from the guy’s attempt at some Jimmy Buffet number a few songs ago. Rafe loved music. He loved it. That’s part of why karaoke was such an affront. Rafe played the piano; he was okay. His mom had put him in lessons right after kindergarten and it was the only thing he had stuck with until the end of high school. That was how he honored her memory.

Wait, kindergarten.

[Y/N] sat next to Rafe in kindergarten and early elementary. Holy fucking shit.

Rafe was a walking ad for Ritalin until he was about ten. Arguably, after that too. No one ever helped him out. He was also spoiled, he knew that. The kid talked out of turn, couldn’t follow the classroom expectations, never sat still, and ended up with his green light getting downgraded to a yellow light by the end of everyday. The tantrums he would throw over it where earthshaking. It was exhausting. [Y/N] sat next to him because she was not disruptive. Miss Lisa, their kindergarten teacher had loved [Y/N]. She loved her not only because she was good kid, but because she talked back to Rafe. [Y/N] used her position as calm-girl-forced-to-sit-next-to-shitty-boy to her advantage. She tattled on him daily. Debatably, that made his behavior worse, but the pair had fun sometimes. Rafe hadn’t thought about her in years.

[Y/N] wrapped up the song, trilling fine and dandy… I’ll be fine… over and over with the tinny backing track. He wished she could sing this song along with a guitar the way she deserved. Unexpectedly, Rafe found his hands applauding and his glass on the counter.

Quick as a flash, Rafe stood on unsteady feet and rushed towards the stage. [Y/N] rounded up her Irish coffee and pivoted towards her friends that clapped delightedly at her. Her hands were peeled away from her face now. Rafe almost smiled. Almost.

“Hey ladies, can I steal [Y/N] here for a second?” Rafe hollered over the music as he slumped towards their party.

Wendy’s eyes lit up in immediate recognition. “Rafe Cameron…”

“Hi Wendy,” Rafe said effortlessly. “Congratulations, by the way. You look great.” Rafe’s hookups were getting married now, and he was going to wake up tomorrow single and hungover.

“Thank you, hon. You look pretty good yourself… Please take her. Buy her another drink before we go. We need her loosened up a little.” Wendy giggled.

“Hey!” [Y/N] protested. She was eying Rafe uncertainly. She was trying to place him the same way that he had her.

“Please, ladies, next round on my tab. Congrats, seriously, Wendy,” Rafe said with a sleazy, false grin as a few of the women cheered. “I’ll bring [Y/N] back in one piece.” Gently, Rafe placed a hand on her elbow and angled her away towards the bar. The two walked in relative quiet.

All [Y/N]’s friends giggled. Rafe’s force dimples dropped when they were out of the ladies’ eyeline.

“Excuse me,” [Y/N] started. “Not tryin’ to be rude. Have we… Do I know you? I didn’t catch your name and…” She asked, staring intensely at Rafe. “Is this a setup, because Wendy’s always trying to—“

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Rafe cut in, stopping. He was drunk and forgot his manners. Great impression. Rafe cleared his throat and tried not to slur. “Rafe Cameron. You probably don’t remember me… I… You’re [Y/N] [L/N], yeah? You sat beside me in, like, fucking kindergarten and stuff.”

[Y/N] eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my god!” She gasped. “Rafe! How are you? Oh my god, you’re so tall!” [Y/N] laughed happily. Her faced buzzed warmly from the alcohol.

Rafe nodded at her amused comment. “Yeah, I’ve been busy since I was, y’know, nine.” He snorted.

“You transferred, right?”

“Yeah, Saint Mary’s.” Rafe replied. His mother’s trust had paid for catholic school after she died. He transferred out around the time he was ten.

“I can’t believe we never crossed paths again. You know Wendy from Saint Mary’s then?”

“Yep, that’s right,” Rafe paused. “Come on, lemme get you another drink. You’re the reason I didn’t fail first grade.”

[Y/N] smirked. “That’s probably true. You were an awful student.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe smirked. “Way to treat a guy buying you a drink,” he started his walk towards the bar, prompting [Y/N] to follow him. “You got Bailey’s or Jameson in that thing?”

The girl looked down into her nearly empty mug. “Jameson.”

“Smart girl.“ Rafe said easily. [Y/N] blushed. Even drunk, Rafe didn’t miss that expression on her face at those words. Almost too easy.

“Well, if you’re paying then tell the man to make it a double Irish too.”

“Very smart girl. I like the way you think.”

[Y/N] easily followed Rafe to the bar. The man’s broad shoulders slumped drunkenly as he cut through the crowd. When one was as large, imposing and beautiful as Rafe Cameron, crowds parted like the Red Sea. “So, uh, how are you? Did you do the whole college thing, or…?” [Y/N] asked broadly. She next to nothing about him. He wasn’t even the kind of childhood friend to get added on Instagram.

College. That was the default question at their age. Rafe hated this question, but he couldn’t let [Y/N] feel rejected for that question. “I mean, yeah. For a while. I was at Wofford for a year, but I never finished. I like what I do now, though.”

[Y/N] nodded. “And what exactly do you do?”

“Real estate development. I took over for my dad l when he passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, we get by,” Rafe turned to the bartender, waving a hand for his attention. “Another Maker’s Mark, neat, and a coffee with double Jameson. Put the anything else the bachelorette party orders on my tab.” Rafe said. He certainly didn’t need another drink, but he really liked having something to do with his hands. Rafe would probably have less substance abuse-related issues if he knew how to conduct his body in public in some way that wasn’t a poor impression of his father.

“Very good, Mr. Cameron.”

[Y/N] narrowed her eyes at Rafe. “Big spender… You that much of a regular that they know your name at the bar?” In her world, guys [Y/N]’s age didn’t get called ‘Mr.’ anything anywhere by anyone. The guys she knew still drank shitty PBRs in punk clubs and had girlfriends they had nothing in common with. Rafe’s polish and pedigree didn’t rub off even in such a state of intoxication.

Rafe didn’t have a good excuse. The implication of [Y/N]’s statement was accurate. “Sure,” he replied. He moved through the rest of his sentence like a gunshot to prevent an awkward conversation. “Hey, why’d you pick Hard Candy Christmas?”

“I didn’t pick it. Wendy did.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “Right. Why did she pick it for you, then?”

“Because it’s my favorite Christmas song.”

“It’s my favorite. It’s probably half of the Smoky Mountains’ favorite too. But why?”

“I didn’t realize this was hardball—“

“Please... I asked you a question about Dolly Parton. You sounded good.” Rafe responded. His drink was passed over the counter. He held it close to his chest and leaned his right elbow down to press it into the bar.

“Um, thanks. It’s… I had shitty couple years. I sang that song everyday for months at a time, I think. Wendy and I would go for these drives with the top down and just… Belt that shit out. Makes the bad days better.”

Rafe half-smiled. “So, year-round?” He said accusingly.

“The song? Like, not at Christmas?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, yeah. She says it’s like a Hard Candy Christmas, not that it is one. That’s grounds for year-round. It’s so much more than a Christmas song.” [Y/N] bit back with a smirk. The bartender returned and placed another white coffee cup and saucer in front of [Y/N] with a nod. The girl slurped a sip down without cream or sugar. She barely made a pinched expression at what was obviously a strong drink. Rafe was moderately impressed. He liked that [Y/N] was drinking brown liquor in black coffee this late on a Friday while all of her friends held White Claws and Daiquiris,

“My head hurts. This is the opposite of the Die Hard’s a Christmas movie thing.” Rafe jabbed.

“Anything can be a Christmas movie.”

“Then, so can a song.”

[Y/N] paused. “Damn.” she sighed. She wasn’t sober enough to get her arguments straight.

Rafe didn’t want to conversation to end. [Y/N] was the most intelligent person he’d spoken to all day. It wasn’t saying much, but was noticeable. He asked another question. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie, if you think that’s true?”

“American Psycho.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s not a—“

“Rewatch it. Not having this argument,” [Y/N] chided. The girl glanced over her shoulder at her friends. They were all staring at her and pretending they weren’t. “Listen Rafe, I appreciate the drink. It was really great to see you tonight. I gotta head back to Wendy now. Bachelorette party only happens once. If you’re lucky… But, hey, thank you again—“

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” [Y/N] asked. She had no idea where Rafe was taking this. Rafe pushed up the left sleeve of his brown sweater.

“What my favorite Christmas movie is.”

[Y/N] looked at him funny. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”

“Eyes Wide Shut.” Rafe replied coyly.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] smiled fully, finally. Rafe damn near smiled back. She took a small step away, gesturing to where her friends stood.

“Can I give you my card? Maybe we catch up sometime.” Rafe asked plainly.

“Yeah, maybe!”

Rafe pulled his business card out of his wallet and extended it to [Y/N]. She looked down at it, cheekily saying: “Let’s see Paul Allen’s business card…” her eyes widened at the writing on the card. “CEO? Of a development company? THE development company on the island.”

“I told you I took over my dad’s business.”

“Rafe, I… I’m barely a grant writer at a 501-c3. How are you a CEO… You’re… twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four two weeks ago.”

“Happy birthday,” [Y/N] said flatly. “What’s happening? Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you helped me pass first grade. I thought I already said that.” Rafe’s eyes never left hers. They were so blue. Too blue. Too blue to be real. Rich people were too pretty.

[Y/N] took a very long sip of her coffee. “That’s wild. I’m sorry, but that’s wild. You made me feel vastly inferior and I’m the friend with my shit the most together.” [Y/N] told Rafe, with a smile on her face.

“I know you gotta get back. I’m not gonna the asshole that kept the girls waiting, but call me. Listen, you’re pretty, so is your voice. We should catch up.” Rafe said. Was he asking her out? That was weird. That was weird, right?

Hesitantly, [Y/N] looked back at her friends again. They were too invested in her conversation with Rafe. Hopefully, they would all drink so much that they forgot it happened.

“Do you like karaoke, Rafe?” [Y/N] changed the subject.

“I hate it.” He replied instantly.

“Why are you here?”

Rafe gestured with his glass to where Topper and Ruthie were making out. “They gave me a ride. And you don’t seem too keen about it either.” He said with a shrug.

[Y/N] couldn’t figure out what Rafe’s game was. He had turned from an unsettling child to a freakish adult. He was blunt and brisk, and either frustratingly honest or an alarmingly good liar. Maybe both. She stared up at him.

“What?”

“What?” Rafe raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. It was good to see you. Thanks for the drinks,” [Y/N] took a step back. She started to walk away slightly, still facing Rafe. A looked of what could be interrupted as self-loathing crossed Rafe’s face. He didn’t bullshit enough with her during the conversation to be perceived as likable, and she was leaving. Of course. Nobody liked Rafe when they actually knew Rafe. [Y/N] stopped, thinking. “Rafe?”

“Yeah?” His eyes slid back to her.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Maybe?”

He was going to say no, but it would serve as a litmus test for what kind of man Rafe was. It would help [Y/N] sleep easier to know what kind of bullet she dodged by losing Rafe’s business card after tonight. “Okay, we have a scavenger hunt thing for the party. It’s stupid. One of those… Do X number of shots, get someone to give you a BLANK, take a picture of three of you doing… whatever. Y’know?”

“Sure, yeah. What are you asking?”

“One of the items on the list is Maid of Honor and a stranger accomplish a task she’ll regret tomorrow. Like I said, it’s a trashy fuckin’ list.”

“Are you asking me to hookup with you, or…”

“Worse. Do you know the song Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by—“

“Absolutely not—“

“Let me finish. I said do you know the song Don’t Go—“

“I don’t do karaoke.” Rafe said forcefully.

“Do you want to go out on a date with me, or not?”

Rafe was stunned silent. His mind worked overtime. He suddenly felt extremely sober, in spite of his drunkenness. He sucked his teeth.

“I don’t do Elton John. Sorry.” He muttered finally.

[Y/N] nodded, knowingly. It was a setup anyway. She couldn’t be disappointed. She knew he’d refuse and she could leave knowing she had made the right choice ditching him. “That’s a’right. Maybe some other—“

“But, if you really want me to do this, let’s at least stick to the Christmas thing you’ve got going here.”

“You don’t look very… holly jolly.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” he deadpanned. Rafe was the strangest combination. “Stop givin’ me grief here. Your favorite Christmas movie is American Psycho. Let’s do Baby, It’s Cold Outside—“

“Whoa, waaaay too rapey.” [Y/N] protested.

“American. Psycho. How is that song—“

“Wait, do you know Fa—“

“Fairytale of New York?” Rafe finished.

“You know it?”

“My family’s Irish Catholic.”

They both stood still and looked at each other. Well, Rafe stood as still as he could, but swayed a little on his feet. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Why was he agreeing to this?

For as manipulative as Rafe Cameron could be, he was effortless to play for validation and a pretty pair of eyes looking back at him.

Everyone leaves eventually, Rafe reminded himself. His mouth and his brain were not in agreement. Rafe had lost control of his body as he blindly followed [Y/N] to sign up for the next karaoke slot.

They passed Topper and Rafe held onto his glass like an anchor. He should have switched to beer. Why did he have another bourbon? Topper pulled his face away from Ruthie long enough to look at Rafe as if to say what the fuck are you doing? without any words. Rafe grimaced at Topper, barring his teeth slightly in response.

Rafe leaned in to [Y/N]’s ear and clumsily pushed her hair back. “I’m not a singer… This isn’t gonna be good.” He whispered. Chills crept up [Y/N]’s spine at the sensation of his breath. He knew his way around rhythm and music theory. Rafe was an asshole about music, actually. Jazz, classical, whatever. It was his secret no one else got to have. It’s not his fault that most of the motherfuckers he hung out with only listened to guys with the word ‘yung’ in front of their names. Still, all of that musicality couldn’t make him a singer.

“It’s karaoke.” [Y/N] said like it was obvious. She dragged Rafe towards the stage. “You’re so serious… Stop frowning; you’re gonna get lines on your face. We’re both gonna suck. I wouldn’t make you do this if it wasn’t for Wendy anyway. Promise.”

“This is so dumb; this better be some fucking date…”

[Y/N] pried, with difficulty, the rocks glass out of Rafe’s fingers and set it with her mug on a tabletop by the stage. As she pulled him up to a microphone, she said: “You know the words. Sing the damn song.”

And as the track started to play, and [Y/N] stupid friends all cheered, Rafe slurred the words he knew from every drunken family Christmas party he’d ever had. And he smiled. Just a little.

[earthlyangelbby]

I think my roommate cares more about me than my boyfriend ever did.

Sfw for now. The next one will not be. MDNI 18+

Cw: mentions of a break up, roommate!Eddie, College!Eddie, Eddie comforts you, Usage of weed and alcohol.

1.9k words

The landline phone on the kitchen counter rang, its sharp tone pulling you from your thoughts as you struggled to focus on the mountain of homework in front of you. The red numbers on the clock read 8:45 p.m., and you had a sinking feeling it was your mom. You and Brian had been trying to make the long-distance thing work for a while now, but recently, the calls from him had been fewer, and his letters, the ones that used to come weekly, were starting come in more like monthly. Something had been off for a while, but hearing this was like a punch to the gut.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice betraying the exhaustion that had been slowly building up for days.

"Honey," your mom's voice came through the receiver, calm but laced with concern. "I just saw Brian in town with another girl. They were kissing. Holding hands. Everything. He wasn’t even trying to hide it."

Your stomach dropped. The rest of her words blurred as your mind scrambled to process what she had just said. Sure, you’d noticed the late-night calls growing sparse, the missed visits, and the feeling that he was becoming more and more distant. But this? This was something else entirely.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, though you already knew the answer, deep down.

"I wish I wasn’t, honey," she said softly. "But I had to tell you."

Your fingers tightened around the phone, your chest tightening not from heartbreak, but from the realization that someone you had trusted so much had been hiding something from you. It wasn’t even about losing him anymore. It was the disrespect.

"Okay," you said quietly, your voice almost too small to hear.

You didn’t even notice Eddie walking into the room until his hand brushed your shoulder lightly, a soft, comforting gesture. You had left your door open. The world felt strangely muted, your mind still reeling from the conversation. He noticed your face was flushed and eyes teary.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle as he slid onto the bed beside you.

This wasn't out of the ordinary. You and Eddie had a roomie rule: If the door is open you're welcome in. This just helped you not isolate yourselves. Sometimes you want to sit in bed. It also didn't help that he heard your voice crack when your mom told you.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you handed him the phone, still gripping it like it was the only thing holding you together. Eddie took it without question, speaking briefly to your mom, assuring her that you were fine and didn’t need any more details. When he hung up, he turned back to you, his usual teasing grin replaced with something softer, more protective.

"Don't be broken over him. You're not, are you?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You shook your head, swallowing down the hurt. "Not him. Just… who the fuck cheats instead of breaking up? It’s like he couldn’t even give me that much respect."

Eddie paused for a moment, studying you. Then, that familiar grin spread across his face, though it was softer now, almost tender. "You know what I think? This is your wake-up call. The trash took itself out, sweetheart."

A small laugh bubbled up despite yourself. "God, you’re terrible."

"And yet you’re smiling," he quipped, his grin only widening. "You’re better off, Darling. And you know it."

---

The next few days felt like a blur. You buried yourself in your homework, but your mind constantly drifted back to Brian and what had happened. You weren’t relieved, and you definitely weren’t just sad. There was a deeper, more complex feeling that lingered in the aftermath of what Brian had done. Being cheated on wasn’t just about losing him. It was about the crushing realization that someone you trusted had shattered the very foundation of the memories you'd built together. The things you thought were special now felt tainted, like they never really meant what you believed they did.

You spent the next few days sulking. The betrayal was more than just an ending. It was a reminder that you weren’t worth enough for him to just tell you the truth, to have the decency to break up with you before he started something new. You felt the weight of that. The sense that he’d never even given you the chance to move on gracefully, to let go before he had already moved on himself.

It made you feel… ugly. Not in the literal sense, but in a way that went deeper. It was the kind of ugly that went beyond physical appearance, rooted in the emotional messiness that crept in when someone you cared about treated you like you didn’t matter. The time and energy you’d spent on him...on waiting for those calls, for that attention, it felt like a waste. You could have been doing so many other things, meeting new people, finding someone who would appreciate you for who you were. Flirting back with your roommate. Instead, you spent it waiting for a boy who didn’t even have the decency to respect you enough to say goodbye.

The thought that all those months, hell, maybe even years that had been wasted on someone who didn’t see your value made the hurt ache even more. There were guys in college, guys who could have been better, who were probably waiting for a girl like you. But you were here, tangled in a past relationship that wasn’t even worthy of you.

The quiet frustration and disappointment gnawed at you. And no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, the feelings wouldn’t let go. Brian had taken more than just your trust. He’d taken a part of you. Something that felt like it might never come back.

Eddie, however, didn’t give you space to sulk for long. He checked in, just enough to let you know that he was there without pushing you too hard. When he noticed the melancholy hanging around you, he showed up at your door, a pizza box in one hand, a six-pack of something sweet in the other, and your favorite movie The Princess Bride, determined to break through your self-imposed isolation.

You didn’t feel like laughing, and you didn’t want to feel better, but somewhere deep down, you also didn’t want to keep spiraling. Eddie’s presence felt like a small thread that might pull you back to something lighter, something that wasn’t so tangled in disappointment.

He never pressed you to talk about it. He just let you be, and in his quiet way, he managed to give you the comfort you needed. A movie, a shared pizza, and him just being there. It didn’t fix anything, but it was enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely alone in all of this.

Minutes later, you found yourself curled up on your bed with Eddie, a slice of pizza in hand and a bottle of something too sweet but just right for the moment. The comfort of his presence started to chip away at the sadness, the heaviness you’d been carrying around. Slowly, you began to relax, and the sounds of laughter, both from the movie and from Eddie’s constant, hilarious commentary, filled the room.

Halfway through the movie, Eddie leaned in close, that mischievous spark back in his eyes. "You know what this needs?" He pulled a crumpled baggie and rolling paper from his pocket, holding them up like a prize.

“Seriously?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. "I’m just saying, Buttercup and Westley’s love is even more epic with a little help. But only if you’re in."

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Why not? Worst-case scenario, I get hungry again."

“That’s my girl," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he expertly rolled the joint.

The first puff made you cough, and Eddie laughed so hard he nearly dropped the joint. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable. Rookie mistake."

As the high settled in, the tension in your chest loosened. The movie was now ten times funnier. Who thought it could be possible? Every line had you both in stitches, and Eddie’s constant commentary didn’t help.

"Fezzik’s totally the real hero here, no doubt," he said, grinning. "The guy’s got heart, muscle, and a sense of humor. You can’t beat that."

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, snorting as you passed the joint back to him.

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, winking. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”

By the time the credits rolled, you were sprawled against him, pizza crumbs on the blanket, your cheeks aching from laughing so hard. You glanced up at him, and for the first time in days, you felt a warmth spread through you not from the weed, but from the way Eddie looked at you. Like he had all the time in the world, like he was just happy to be here, making you smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you said softly, your voice sincere. "For this. For you."

His grin softened, and for a moment, there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart. You know that." He rested his head back against the pillow, and the world outside seemed just a little less heavy. In this moment, with Eddie by your side, it felt like maybe everything could be okay.

Everything would be okay. You're not going to sulk anymore. In fact, you may act on some feelings you've been holding down. Maybe it was the sweet drink or the weed, but you felt brave, very brave. Eddie wouldn't have done all this if he didn't at least like you a little. You'd pushed these feelings down to remain faithful to Brian. But you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about Eddie before. He has a naturally flirty side to him.

My girl. Sweetheart. Darling.

These were things he'd call you in passing. You had hung out with Eddie around people before and he reserved those only for you.

He went out of his way multiple times to hang out with you on those nights you waited by the phone that wouldn't ring. The first couple of weekends this happened he'd go on about his own plans. But he came home too many times for comfort to you teary eyed holding the phone in your hand still waiting on it to ring.

"Oh sweetheart how many weekends are you gonna spend by a phone that won't ring? Come with me to the Hideout."

"Nope you're not doing this again. Mandatory roomie movie night."

"Heard that it's nation ice cream cone day. I'm buying and driving. Get up lets go."

These were just a few of the many excuses he made up to get you away from the phone on the weekends. You were free for the first time to act how you wanted. No reprocusions.

"Hey Eddie?" your voice soft and inquisitive.

Eddie's eyes flicked onto yours. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"You're not um.. busy tomorrow and you don't need to go to bed soon or anything, right?"

"No, I'm not cleared out my weekend just for you. Had to get you out of this funk. Besides its still early. Only about 7 o'clock" he was checking his wrist for the time.

You nibbled at your knuckles mindlessly. You were nervous but quickly asked your question, "Do you wanna play a game?"

Eddies eyebrows raised and his smile softened "Uh yeah, absolutely. What game?"

Your nerves buzzing "Uh, I don't know just truth or dare."

To be continued..........

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, crying, fluff, kissing 

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

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

The night air was cool as you followed Matt away from the noise of the party. Your heart raced with every step, your mind whirling with questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. The backyard stretched into quiet darkness, string lights flickering above like hesitant stars.

He stopped near the edge of the yard, turning to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging thick between you.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

Matt shifted, his hands finding the pockets of his hoodie as he looked down at the grass. “I just… I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism showing. “You dragged me out here to ask how I’m doing?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just mean—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I didn’t know how else to say it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you pushed the feeling down. “Well, I’m fine. College is good. Busy, but good.”

Matt nodded quickly, like he was clinging to every word. “That’s good. That’s great. I figured you’d be killing it out there. What’s your favorite class so far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this really what we’re doing? Small talk?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I want to know how you’ve been. I missed you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “You missed me? Really? Because it didn’t seem like that when you broke up with me, Matt.”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath. “I know. I know I messed up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “That you didn’t think we were worth the effort? That you thought I’d be better off without you?”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Then what did you think?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you—from me, from the distance, from everything that could go wrong. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was an idiot for leaving you.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Matt—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done since then is regret it. You were the best thing in my life, and I threw it away because I was too scared to believe we could make it work.” He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I’m not scared anymore. I want to make this right. Make us right.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that was still hurt, still hesitant.

“You think it’s that simple?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You say you want me back, and we just forget everything that happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I know it’s not simple. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes—if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. “You really hurt me, Matt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes full of regret. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’m not going to hurt you again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how much you still loved him, how much you wanted to believe he meant every word. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breath hitched, and he stepped even closer, his hand hovering near yours. “You don’t have to move on,” he said. “We can figure this out together. If you still want me—if there’s even a chance—please, Y/N. Let me try.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope. “I never stopped wanting you,” you admitted.

Matt exhaled shakily, and before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he was pouring every unsaid word into that one moment.

- 

The party was a distant memory as you walked into Matt’s house, the one you hadn’t been inside since last summer. The air inside was familiar, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and candles you were sure Nick insisted on burning. Memories tugged at your heart—laughing on the couch with his brothers, late-night talks in the kitchen, falling asleep in his arms on that very couch after a movie marathon.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Matt hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, do you want water or something? I don’t know how long you want to stay, but—”

“Water’s fine,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the space. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Or maybe it was you who had changed.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen, and you wandered into the living room. Your fingers brushed against the back of the couch, your mind flashing to all the times you’d sat there together, tangled in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing.

“Here,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to find him holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You took it, your fingers brushing his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Do you… want to go to my room?” he asked tentatively.

You hesitated. That room held so many memories, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face them. But you nodded anyway, following him down the hall.

When you stepped inside, your chest tightened. Everything was the same—the posters on the walls, the rumpled comforter on the bed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. It was like stepping back in time, except now there was an invisible wall of tension between you.

Matt hovered near the door, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to stand there like it’s some kind of museum.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “It kind of feels like one,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He joined you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you asked finally.

“Because we’re not the same people we were a year ago,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your hands. “Yeah. We’re not.”

Matt shifted closer, his knee brushing yours. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean… we’ve changed, sure. But the way I feel about you hasn’t.”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your voice steady. “Matt, I don’t know if I can just… pretend like everything’s okay again. You broke my heart.”

He winced, his hand running through his hair. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting that. But, Y/N, I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just… tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you. “I don’t know what I need, Matt,” you admitted. “I just know that being here with you—it’s messing with my head.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I don’t want to mess with your head, Y/N. I just want to show you that I’m still the guy who loves you more than anything. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked them away. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s messy, and it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to fight for it—for you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning. He froze for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, and then he kissed you back with a desperation that took your breath away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, every ounce of love, regret, and longing pouring into it. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing hard.

“God, I missed you,” Matt whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smiled faintly, your chest aching in the best way. “I missed you too.”

-

After hours of being tangled in each others embrace, you had decided it was too late to go home and that you would stay the night. 

Matt settled beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, but you couldn’t fully relax.

He noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I need time to adjust to your existence again.”

He hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words settled something in you, and you let yourself relax against him, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

-

One month later, you found yourself back in Matt’s room, perched on the edge of his bed. The atmosphere was warm and familiar, but there was a quiet weight in the air that neither of you could ignore. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—reconnecting in ways that made your heart race, stolen moments of laughter, and soft touches that reminded you of the love you once shared. But there was something still unspoken between you, something that needed to be addressed.

Matt sat across from you, cross-legged on the bed, his fingers idly toying with the hem of his hoodie. He seemed nervous, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away, like he was trying to find the right words but was afraid of what they might mean.

You broke the silence first, unable to take the tension anymore. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation, haven’t we?”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we have.”

You tucked your legs underneath you, the comforter soft beneath your fingers as you fidgeted with it. “We’ve been spending so much time together, Matt, but we haven’t really talked about… what this is.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours. “I know. And I think about it all the time. I just… I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted.”

Your heart ached at his thoughtfulness, but it also made you more anxious. “And what about you? What do you want, Matt?”

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I want this. I want you. But I need to know that you’re ready for that too. I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not sure about.”

The honesty in his voice made you feel like the room had shrunk, like it was just the two of you in this little bubble of vulnerability. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, and he immediately took it, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, Matt. And the thought of going through that again…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It terrifies me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. “It terrifies me too,” he said softly. “But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of letting you slip away again because I was too afraid to fight for what we have.”

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening with emotion. “What if we mess it up again? What if—”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he interrupted gently. “Together. Y/N, I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise you this—I’ll fight for us. Every single day. Because not having you in my life was… it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’m not making it again.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He reached out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness as it fell.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. And I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words sinking into you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never stopped either.”

The relief on his face was immediate, and without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was slow and tender, full of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. “So what does this mean?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his hoodie.

“It means we take it one day at a time,” Matt said, his voice steady. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I can handle that.”

He grinned, his boyish charm making your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go again, Y/N. You’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. In that moment, the fear and uncertainty faded, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a new beginning.

And for the first time in months, you felt like everything might just be okay.

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

heheh ok i'm actually obsessed with this

⭒ margot

[10byten]

Soft Spot for u

- When you started college, one of the student associations assigned you a senior mentor. Back then, you never thought you'd still be friends with him as you enter your final year, while he’s already long graduated. Even less that he’d be the guy of your dreams—the one who makes your heart race. -

Words : 2.6K

You’ve never been much of a party girl. Well, not in the “nightlife scene” kind of way. But a night owl ? That’s totally you. Staying up late doing all the things the daytime doesn’t allow ? That’s your jam. Especially when you’re spending those nights with him.

Since your freshman year, Yuta has been your go-to for late-night hangs: studying, laughing, bickering, drinking, and dancing. You quickly adapted to his vibe - even though, unlike you, he thrives in the nightlife. He loves hopping from on-campus parties to the city’s best clubs. For Yuta, you’d adjust to anything. Normally, you’re not big on people or physical contact, but with him, it’s different.

The first time he asked you to join him at a party, you tagged along, thinking, Why not? At least I’ll have a story to tell. You didn’t like dancing in public—the stares, the unwanted touches—but his touch? That was different. Before long, you were showing up to every party he invited you to, becoming a campus party regular.

Little did they know, you hated parties. You only went for him. For those moments on the dancefloor when his hands rested protectively on your hips, silently warning other guys to back off. It drove you crazy that it felt more big brotherly than anything else. But when you danced together, something shifted. He wasn’t being protective—just… present.

You’ve always wanted to make a move, but the fear of losing him held you back. If he hadn’t made the first move, it probably meant your feelings weren’t mutual. Right? But honestly, just being by his side was better than being with anyone else.

Yuta changed you—not just in how you see relationships, but in how you see life. He was more than a mentor for academics; he pulled you out of your comfort zone and into a brighter, more open world.

Waiting for him to pick you up tonight, you’re lost in thought, touching up your makeup as Keshi’s Soft Spot plays in the background. Your phone buzzes.

Yuta: Be there in 2 mins, love.

You grin, his name lighting up your screen. Gosh, this man owns my heart.

When you hop on his bike, he whistles, eyes raking over your silver sequin dress.

“You planning to set the campus on fire tonight? I don’t remember telling you to outshine me, little miss.”

“No one’s hotter than you, Yuta.” You flirt back, the way you always do when he compliments you. It gives you butterflies every time.

He smirks, giving you a playful smack on the thigh. “Flattery’ll get you far, baby. Keep it up.”

At the party, Yuta, as usual, commands attention. Walking in with him feels like entering as a rockstar’s date—his magnetic aura turning every head. You join his friends—Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung—who’ve already lined up shots.

Johnny hands you a suspiciously colorful concoction. You sniff it. “Johnny, is this safe? Because I really don’t want to start the semester in the ER.”

Everyone laughs, and Taeyong teases, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in school. Those were the days…”

Shots clink, faces grimace, and the party kicks off. But soon, the buzz, the chaos, and the alcohol start working their magic on your senses. All you want is to dance—with him.

The noise, the games, the music, the chaos of people chatting and singing along, all the stuff happening around you, mixed with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, has your senses on high alert. And now, you only want one thing—to dance with him. You’ve shared him with the crowd long enough, and now it’s your turn. Just you and him, in your world, even if it’s just for a bit.

You leave Jungwoo and Kai behind, still going at that ridiculous card game where every rule somehow ends in "take a sip." It’s funny as hell, you can admit that, but nah—right now, you need him. It’s all you can think about.

You find him at the bar, mid-conversation. You head toward him, sitting by the counter, your mind racing with one single thought: you wanna throw your arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. His legs are spread like he’s waiting just for you, a couple of messy strands of hair falling into his eyes, and his half-unbuttoned shirt teasing you with a glimpse of that stunning belly piercing and a peek at his tattoo.

You stop in front of him, hesitating for a second. He’s still chatting with Taeyong but doesn’t miss a beat, sliding an arm around your waist like, yeah, I know you’re here. That little gesture? making you go crazy, and without a second thought, grab his wrist and pull him to the dancefloor. Pressed against him, your bodies move in sync, his hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. Butterflies? More like fireworks. 

He’s totally getting with your vibe, moving with you like he’s reading your mind. When you turn around, you catch that huge smile lighting up his face—and wow, it’s the kind of smile that hits you right in the gut. He’s loving this moment, and it’s setting off a full-on butterfly storm in your stomach.

You kinda wish his smile wasn’t this attractive, this unfairly cute, this stupidly sexy. Because all you can think about is kissing him senseless. Like, right now.

You keep getting closer, grinding up against him more, and for some reason tonight, you’re feeling extra bold. You slide your fingers into his, guiding his hand to trace your curves in a way that’s definitely more suggestive than usual. Yuta doesn’t just go along with it—he’s into it. His response is all green lights, like his body is totally in tune with yours, wanting this as much as you do.

You feel his breath on your neck as you press your back against his chest, and yeah, it’s short. Is he... out of breath because of you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and without even thinking, you push your hips back against him, swaying like it’s second nature.

And then you feel it—him. Hard. For you.

That’s the last green light you need. You turn, locking eyes, fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him, pouring years of longing into it. He kisses back—hungry, desperate.

Next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit laundry room, pinned against the door as his lips crash back onto yours. His hands are everywhere, his voice dripping with desire.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s pure, raw desire. Like, where the hell has he been hiding all this? Not that it matters—you’re practically melting in his hands. Your skin’s on fire, and it feels like your blood is boiling. He’s gonna make you explode, like you’re some freaking nuclear reactor on the verge of meltdown.

The only way you can even begin to handle this insane craving is by biting his bottom lip, cutting the kiss short. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and there’s this spark in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“I didn’t know you had this bad girl side,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always been my sweet, innocent Y/n.”

“Not that innocent I guess, if only you knew about my dirty secret.” 

“Hmm tell me more baby” you smile hearing the petname he gave you, you love it soo much. 

“I touch myself so many times, soaking my panties, just thinking ‘bout you” 

He groan “You didn’t.” 

“I can’t even count how many times since I know you, you’re my favorite fantasm.” You say a lil bit shyly. 

He looks into your eyes, a proud smile on his face. “Then allow me to make the fantasy come true.”  He takes hold of your dress, so small that it doesn't take much effort for him to expose your already soaked thong. He slides two fingers over your pussy to caress you through the fabric.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” he growls, fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear.

“Only for you, daddy,” you whisper, testing the nickname that’s been on your mind for way too long.

He freezes, then smirks. “Gosh, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

You've never been so willing in your life. You only dream of one thing: his tongue on you and IN you. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder to get better access. You feel his breath on your inner thigh and you moan at the sensation alone. 

“Oh god.” He look at you, from the bottom and smirk “You can call me Yuta.” And with those words he wraps your whole soaking pussy in his mouth. First he eats you through the fabric of your thong. Then, using his fingers, he shifts it to the side. He flicks his tongue up and down your folds and then concentrates on your clitoris, sucking gently. The stimulation sends you into heaven, you feel as if you've left this earth. And then he starts playing at your entrance with one of his fingers, looking at you “Want me to get inside baby girl?”

“Yes, please, yes !”

 “Your wish is my command.”

He takes hold of your clit again, nibbling lightly, then gently and deliciously slides a finger into your pussy, soon adding a second, which you welcome as a blessing. You try to be as quiet as possible, but your little cries and sobs excite Yuta even more. He picks up the pace and eats you up like he's starving, tasting you like you’re his last meal, you’re trembling. Soon you feel your orgasm coming on and you press down on Yuta's shoulder as if to let him know you're about to burst. He smiles, "Let it go baby, I'm here for you.” You feel the most powerful orgasm you've ever had in your life rushing through you. And this time you can't help yourself, you moan his name out loud and pray that no one else walks by at the same time. He stands up and sucks on each of his two fingers in front of you. Then he slides his tongue back into your mouth. 

“I think you can still feel yourself on my tongue, so much that I've sucked you in.” You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting more, but Yuta slows the pace. “Maybe we should slip away before we're noticed.

You slip out quietly, not even bothering to say goodbye to anyone. On the way back, you’re still all sensitive from the way he completely wrecked you earlier. When Yuta pulls up in front of your dorm, he looks a little more hesitant than before. Still, you invite him to come up with you for a bit.

As you close the door to your apartment, you see him sitting on the couch, his hands covering his face like he’s deep in thought. But you don’t stop to overthink it—he’s already given you too much tonight for you to back down now. You climb onto his lap and kiss him, slow and intense. He kisses you back but suddenly pulls away.

“Wait,” he says, looking at you seriously. “I need to understand what’s happening here. Like, what are we doing right now?”

You stare at him, confused. “Do you want a diagram or something?”

“No, I mean, seriously. Isn’t this, like, a bad idea? I’m older than you, and you’re totally wasted. I am too, actually.”

“So what?”

“So yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow. I don’t want to mess things up between us. You mean a lot to me and—”

You cut him off with a dramatic wave, making it clear he needs to stop talking immediately. “This is unreal. Stop seeing me as the clueless first-year kid who doesn’t know anything and needs a protector. Yuta, I don’t want a protector—I want you.”

He just stares at you, speechless.

“I got a soft spot for you, from the very beginning,” you continue, your voice shaking with the weight of the truth. “And honestly, I’ve been hoping every single day since we met that one day you’d wake up and feel the same. But you’ve always had this big brother vibe, and God, it’s been killing me, because I love your attention, I love how affectionate you are, and how you’re always there for me. But Yuta, I want so much more than that. I never said anything because I didn’t want to scare you off or ruin what we have. But seriously, I’ve been into you since day one. So please, stop being my bro—be my lover. Tonight, I felt like it was now or never. There was this moment, this chance, and hell, it’s my last year. I want to leave this university finally dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since freshman year. So if you’re not into it, just say it, but please stop looking at me like I’m some little kid and start seeing the woman I could be by your side.”

Yuta’s lips crash onto yours, giving you the single greatest kiss of your life.

“So you’ve been this into me for all this time, and you never said a word?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yuta, please. I’m not exactly the most social person, but I’ve spent practically all my time with you. I hate parties, yet I’ve been at them every week since I met you. I HATE octopus, but I learned how to make Takoyaki like a pro. I think Naruto is the most boring anime ever, but I binged every damn season. Why do you think I did all that? For who?” you shoot back, exasperated.

“Uh… sorry?” he mutters sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize. Honestly, I love most of those things now because they remind me of you, or they’re just so you. I don’t force myself. If it means spending time with you, it’s always worth it in the end.”

He smiles at you, soft and affectionate.

“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about this a lot over the years too,” he says quietly. “But the age gap always felt like too much. And I had this mentor role, you know? I didn’t want to look like some creepy older guy. More than that, I didn’t want to lose you or ruin what we have.”

Your heart pounds at his words. So he doesn’t see you as some desperate little kid, and, more importantly, the guy of your dreams feels the same way about you.

“Can you say it out loud, though? Just once?” you tease him.

“I got a soft spot for you, Y/n.”

“No, no, no, you can do better than that.”

He chuckles, running his tongue along his cheek, clearly amused but knowing you’re not letting this go.

“I got a big crush on you.”

Your smile stretches ear to ear, and you crash your lips against his again. He responds instantly, sliding his tongue against yours, his hands moving to your hips as he pulls you closer. Then, without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly and carries you to your room, laying you gently on the bed.He trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, and a soft moan escapes your lips. He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “If you play your cards right tonight, sweetheart, you just might get me to admit I maybe am in love with you by the end of it.”

[sequinsmile-x]

My Foes and Friends

Emily gets a call from her teenage daughter when a day out with her 'friends' goes wrong.

-x-

Hi besties <3

Not really sure where this came from, but when has that ever stopped me??

I wanted to write some Momily, and Hotchniss with teenagers has a special place in my heart so here we are! <3

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.7k

Warning: References to bullying

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs contentedly as she settles onto the couch, her favourite book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She swings her legs around, smiling at her husband when her feet land in his lap and he looks up at her, his attention briefly drawn from his book as he squeezes her foot. He takes one look at her, sees the slight tension in her jaw, the vein in her forehead that always gave her away, and presses his thumb against the arch in her foot.

“She’ll be fine.” 

She narrows her eyes, “I didn’t say anything.” 

Aaron smiles and skims his hand up her leg until it lands on her knee, “You didn’t have to.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, unable to fight the smile that chases it, and she shakes her head at him, “I thought we agreed a long time ago not to profile each other.” 

He shrugs, a spark of mischief in his eyes that she would have once thought he wasn’t capable of, “I’m not profiling you,” he says, smiling as he reaches out for her hand and links their fingers together, “I just happen to know you, and I know how much you worry about the kids. Gracie is fine - she’s at the mall with her friends and she has Find My Friends switched on,” his smile turns into a playful smirk, “It was one of your conditions of her going, remember?” 

She blows out a shaky breath and nods. Grace was 14 now and grappling for her independence, desperate to push boundaries and spend more and more time with her friends instead of her family. It made Emily ache, like she was being pulled in two different directions. In one sense, she was so proud of who her kids were becoming, but in another, she missed when they were small and their favourite place to be was tucked up against her side with their little fingers tangled in her hair. 

Jack had, mostly, come out of the other side of it now. He was 20 and unashamedly called either her or Aaron for advice whilst he was away at college, even if it was something as simple as how to cook something for dinner. It was comforting to know that even as Grace started to pull away from her, something she knew Lucy would start to do soon too, her teenage years just on the horizon, that they’d eventually come back to her. 

“I know you probably think I’m crazy-”

“Never.”

She smiles at the interruption and squeezes his hand, “But after everything we’ve seen…I just worry when we aren’t with them to keep them safe,” she scrunches her nose up, “Especially when they are at a mall. They’ve given me creeps ever since the Katie Jacobs case.” 

Aaron nods in agreement, a shiver running through him at the memory before he encourages his wife closer, his arm around her as she settles against him, “I know, sweetheart. But she’s sensible, and smart,” he tilts his head to look at her, “She’s you.” 

Emily shakes her head at him, her teeth pressed into her lower lip as she tries and fails to suppress a smile and she cups his cheek, “My mom would say that’s the problem. That she’s all me.”

He hums, “Well, you know your mother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on certain things.” 

She chuckles, feeling a little lighter already as she leans forward to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his mouth. She’s about to slide onto his lap properly, to kiss him until she forgets about everything except the press of him against her, but she’s interrupted by her youngest’s footsteps closely followed by her voice.

“Gracie is right, you two are so gross.” 

Emily shifts back from Aaron, her eyebrow raised at her 12-year-old, barely able to hide a smile as their eyes meet, “You okay, Lucy?” 

She hums and walks over to the armchair in the corner, and for a moment Emily pictures her as a tiny little thing who had to climb onto it, and it makes her ache, “I’m okay,” she says, tucking her legs under herself, “Bored.” 

“Did the internet turn off?” Aaron jokes, and Lucy rolls her eyes at him. 

“No,” she replies, blowing out a breath, “When is Gracie getting home?” 

Emily and Aaron exchange a brief look, both of them suppressing smiles so their youngest doesn’t think they are making fun of her. The girls had always been close, ever since Grace first held her younger sister, Jack’s arms around her as he showed her how to do it, but in recent years they’d started to pretend they weren’t each other’s best friend. It was another phase Emily knew they’d grow out of, but in the meantime, it meant that their home was now often filled with arguments about borrowed sweaters and make-up.

“In a couple of hours-” Emily starts, but she’s cut off as her phone rings, she looks at it, her brows furrowing as she sees Grace’s name and picture on her screen, “She’s calling me,” she says, picking up the phone as she exchanges another look with her husband, this one concerned, “She never calls,” she answers the phone, swallowing thickly as she tells herself she’s over-reacting, “Grace, honey, is everything okay?” 

“Mom,” she says, the shake to her voice making the spark of worry in Emily’s gut ignite, “Can you come get me?”

Emily’s already standing up, looking around for her shoes and keys, highly aware of Aaron and Lucy following her, their concern adding into the mix, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine.” 

She sighs, “Where are the others, are they still there? I thought you were going to get some food-”

“Mom. Can you please come get me?” Gracie says as she cuts her off, half shouting at her mother in a way she rarely did, “I’ll explain when you get here…but…please.” 

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose and blows out a breath, “I’m on my way,” she says, pushing her feet into the first shoes she can find, “Stay exactly where you are and I’ll come and meet you.”

“I’m in the food court,” she mumbles, her voice shaking again, her words catching in her throat in a way that lets Emily know she’s crying, “By the Taco Bell.” 

“Stay there for me, okay?” 

She hears a sniff down the phone, “Okay.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” “You too,” Grace replies, the shake to her voice instantly worse than it already had been. Emily makes her promise one more time that she’ll stay put, and they exchange hurried goodbyes. 

“I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s asked me to go and get her,”sShe huffs out a breath as she turns to look at Aaron and Lucy, matching concerned expressions on their faces as the pre-teen leans against her father’s side. Emily shrugs on a jacket and grabs her keys from the counter, “I’ll text you when I’ve got her, okay?”

“I should come with you,” Aaron says, and she shakes her head, stepping forward to kiss his cheek, something that Lucy doesn’t protest like she usually would.

“I have a feeling she won’t want a crowd, honey,” she kisses his cheek again, “You two stay here, and when I let you know we’re on the way back you two can get started on some hot chocolates.” 

Lucy leans forward to hug Emily, her arms briefly tight around her before she pulls back, “I think this calls for the fancy stuff we got from France in the summer.” 

Emily smiles and kisses her forehead before tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “I think that sounds perfect, sweetie,” she looks up at Aaron and smiles tightly, a silent promise that they’d talk about it later passing between them, “I should get going.” 

“Drive safely,” Aaron says, smiling despite his concern when she rolls her eyes at him, “The last thing we need is for you to get into an accident.”

She salutes him as she opens the front door, “Yes sir.” 

“Oh ew,” Lucy says, screwing her face up in disgust, “Please don’t call him sir.” 

___

Emily’s relief at finding Grace is short lived the moment she gets close enough to see her bright red face. The make-up she’d meticulously applied smudged on her cheeks and the sleeves of the sweater she has pulled down over her fists. 

“Gracie?”

Grace looks up at her, and her lower lip wobbles, fresh tears slipping down past her lashline, “Hi Mom,” she says, wiping her cheeks before pointing at the large table she was sitting at, empty seats surrounding her, “Pull up a chair,” she puts her elbow on the table and then rests her cheek against her fist, “There are plenty.”

Emily chooses the seat next to her and sits on her hands to stop herself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug, finding herself not entirely sure if it would help or embarrass Grace. 

“What happened, baby?” She asks, her heart aching as her daughter’s face screws up as she tries to suppress a sob, “Where are your friends-”

“They aren’t my friends,” she sniffs, wiping her cheeks again, “They made that very clear,” her chin wobbles and Emily clenches her jaw and clears her throat, pushing down the anger that threatens to rise up it, the need to find a bunch of 14-year-old girls and give them a piece of her mind briefly overwhelming, “They kept kind of leaving me out but I thought I was just imagining things. Then we came to eat, they sent me to get a table whilst they got food. And I watched as they just…left,” she looks up at her, “They just left without me. I tried to follow at first but then I lost them so I came back here in case they just went to the bathroom. I texted the group chat and then they told me they’d been picked up by Kayla’s mom, and that there wasn’t room for me in the car.”

Emily finally reaches out for her, her motherly instincts overriding any attempt to not embarrass her daughter, and she places her hand on her back to rub a soothing circle there, “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

“I thought they liked me,” Grace sobs, leaning forward and pressing her face against Emily’s shoulder, curling against her like she hadn’t in years, “I have no friends.” 

Emily has to close her eyes to stop herself from crying, and she stamps a kiss against the top of Grace’s head. She soothes her until she calms down, switching between kissing her forehead, whispering that she was right there with her against her skin, and rubbing her back. Once Grace is a little calmer, her sobs calming down into sniffles against her mother’s neck, Emily finally speaks, “I can call the school, have a teacher talk to their parents-”

Grace pulls back and shakes her head, her eyes wide as if she can’t imagine everything worse, “No,” she says, wiping her cheeks, “I want to pretend this never happened. I’ll just…” she blows out a breath and chokes on a humourless laugh, “Sit on my own for lunch on Monday I guess.” 

Emily knows not to push it, so she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and encourages Grace to lean against her again, enjoying the closeness her daughter was allowing her - something that felt infinitely selfish given the circumstances. All she ever wanted was to make sure her kids were loved and happy, and that if they ever weren’t for some reason that they knew they could come to her and Aaron. That they wouldn’t look for love in all the wrong places and wouldn’t have to live with the consequences like she had. 

“Being a teenager is hard, honey,” she says, “I can’t promise it will get easier any time soon, but it will get easier eventually.”

Grace scoffs, “Right, like being a teenager was ever hard for you,” she says, tilting her head to look at her and rolling her eyes when Emily furrows her brow, “Come on, Mom. You’re gorgeous. You’re confident. You have so many friends, and Dad acts like you hung the freaking moon.” 

She sighs and tucks some of Grace’s hair behind her ear, “That’s now, Grace. When I was your age…I had no friends,” she says, “Your Grandmother and I moved around a lot. I was always the new kid. That’s a hard gig.” 

Grace nods, “I guess.”

“And your dad was a theatre nerd,” she says, her heart blooming in her chest when she drags a surprised smile out of her daughter.

“No way.” 

“It’s true,” she replies, “It’s how he met Haley. I think there are some photos in the attic somewhere.” 

Grace laughs, “Okay, I have got to see those,” she says before her smile starts to fade, “What do I do on Monday?”

Emily wipes her cheek for her, “You go to school, you hold your head up high and you do your best,” she smiles, “And, if you want me to, I can get your Aunt Pen to mess with their cell service or something.”

Grace laughs again and nods, “I’ll let you know.”

She squeezes her against her side again, kissing her forehead, “Did you eat anything?” She asks, and Grace shakes her head, “How about we buy all the tacos we can carry and we take them home to share with your sister and Dad?” 

Grace nods, “As long as we can get some Baja Blasts too.”

Emily smiles and kisses her temple, “It’s like you read my mind, sweet girl.”

___

They spend all weekend trying to cheer her up. Lucy spends every possible second with her sister, even suggesting they have a sleepover in her room like they did when they were small and inseparable. 

Emily is able to keep her anger in check until the girls are asleep, snuggled up together in one bed. Aaron has to stop her from calling all of the girl’s parents, reminding her it’s not what Grace would want, and when she suggests going to the school with her badge and gun on display Aaron reminds her why that’s a bad idea too. 

She promises him she’ll be calm when she picks Grace up from school, but she isn’t sure it’s a promise she can keep if she’s upset again. If she runs to the car with tears in her eyes, insisting she’ll never go to school again, Emily isn’t sure she’ll be entirely responsible for her actions. 

She’s as surprised as she is delighted to see Grace all but skip to the car, a wide smile on her face as she climbs in, “Hi Mom.”

“Hi,” Emily replies, smiling at her as she watches her clip her belt into place then push the strap past her shoulder, “How was your day?”

Grace sighs as she rests her head back against the headrest, “It was okay,” she says, turning to look at her, “I did what you said - ignored them. Held my head high. And…I made a friend.” 

Emily smiles, “You did?” 

Grace hums, “There’s a new girl who started today,” she says, smiling softly as their eyes meet, “She’s called Emma. I figured she could do with a friend too.” 

Emily chuckles, the sound catching in her chest as she sucks in a breath, taken aback by her daughter’s kindness and empathy. She reaches over and tucks some hair behind her ear before she cups her cheek, “I’m very proud of you, baby.” 

Grace’s eyes go wide as she touches her, leaning away from the touch as she looks out of the window to see if any of her peers had seen the affection between mother and daughter, “Mom, how many times do I have to say, not on school property?” 

Emily clears her throat to stop herself from smirking and nods, switching on the car’s engine so she can drive away from the pickup spot, but not before she makes a point of straightening out Grace’s seatbelt to make sure it lays flat on her shoulder. “Right, sorry honey.” 

“Mom.” 

[asharasasylum]

♡ drabble Naoya Zenin booklet - entry 1

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ warnings: non con. dub con. manipulation. blackmail. step-cest. smut. allusions to abuse/assualt. not proof read. 18+

Step brother! Naoya who is mean to everyone but especially cruel to you at times. He taunts you relentlessly but there is only so much he’s been able to get away with his father around. When that happens, his attention falls onto one of the poor maids and with a hand wrapped around their wrist, he yanks them to his room. 

You can’t lie, you're glad when he leaves for college, ecstatic not to have to share a house with him for the next few years. But the years roll by fast and one day he’s at the front door again, his father and your mother ready to greet him. 

He’s changed, you think. He’s always been obsessed with his appearance but maybe you’ve never noticed it before because he’s definitely in great shape. He practically towers over you when he comes to greet you, and you bite on your tongue stopping yourself from making a comment about how he’s clearly been working out, eyes falling over his thick muscles. You don't need to add to his ego.

But Naoya hasn’t really changed. He tugs on one of your plaits and laughs as you slap his hand away, already back to his usual antics. 

“Didn’t you miss me.” 

He’s back to his usual ways but for some reason he’s able to get away with more. He’s a bit rougher with you, play fighting with you, tugging on your hair to get your attention. Either your parents don’t seem to notice, or now that you’re older they think you should be able to handle yourself. But with each push you give Naoya, you get a shove back. 

It’s not till things take a turn that you really start trying to avoid him. His hands wandering in places they shouldn’t or him pressing up against you in the kitchen. Even with people around you can feel his predatory gaze latched onto you at all times. And you’re sure your fear is what turns him on even more, the game of it all, cat and mouse. 

Naoya always gets what he wants and while you’re great at avoiding him, he eventually corners you and gets you alone again. But when he pulls you into his bedroom, pressing your back flush against his chest, you tell him that you’ll scream. 

He doesn’t like that. With his hand wrapped around your throat he snarls, and squeezes. 

He gives you a proposition, you or the maids. He can see your face drop at that, your stomach dropping as guilt floods through your body. He hasn’t touched them since his arrival and while you aren’t sure what exactly happened behind his closed doors all those years ago, your mind could think of a thousand awful possibilities. 

It’s you. 

Even if you do change your mind, any form of protest is lost on Naoya’s lips. 

The kiss is hot and heavy, his lips firmly pressing against yours, not allowing you a second to breathe. He seems desperate for more though, using his free hand to venture underneath your t-shirt as you slowly turn to face him. 

You gasp into the kiss when Naoya cups your bare breast and he laughs at the reaction, using it to slip his tongue into your mouth. On one side you think of biting down on his bottom lip, drawing blood and making a run for it. But you can’t deny how easily you’re melting into his touch as the tips of his fingers graze over your nipple, switching to play with the other breast. 

You’re surprised about how easily you fall into his bed, no protest even forming in that head of yours as his fingers slip into your soaked panties. You find yourself bare before him, biting down on your bottom lip as he toys with your cunt, keeping your legs open as his kneels between them.  

“Pretty girl,” Naoya whispers before slapping your folds for the first time followed by, “Count.” 

And you tried, you desperately tried as he went between slapping your folds and soothing the harsh sting with rubbing your arousal across your pussy. One, two… the number normally got caught in your throat around five in a sob. 

Eventually you resort to pathetically whimpering “please” in hopes he’ll show mercy on you and when he tuts, you brace yourself for another slap only to be met with a finger poking at your entrance.

“You’re getting so wet,” he hums in approval, playing with the slick that has formed down there. “Who thought a girl like you would get so wet at such cruelty?” 

He forces a thick finger in, groaning at the way your walls try desperately to resist and force him out. You’re so tight, it’s not an easy feat you know, leaving you with a stinging pain as he stretches you open. Your back arches when he uses his other hand to touch your clit and you can’t help but let out a sharp moan as he slips a second finger inside your walls. . 

When you look up at him, Naoya almost seems entranced, eyes focused on what’s between your thighs only for you to break it when his fingers curl inside you. They touch a sweet spot, one that makes your hips dig into the mattress beneath you and let out a strangled moan, one that his gaze peering back up to you. 

He keeps toying with it till you feel that knowing sensation grow in your stomach while keeping his focus completely on you and you feel yourself clench around him, greedily asking for more. You think he feels it, picking up his pace and as he does making your toes curl. 

You’re so close to the edge, hands desperately clawing at the sheets before your orgasm finally washes over you. You’re breathless after, legs trembling, trying to close around Noaya’s hips but unable to. When it finally stops and you look up at him, he’s smirking down at you, the hunger still burning in his eyes at you. It’s clear that this is far from over and you’re only proven right when Naoya presses his body next to yours, not even giving you a second before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. And you, unrecognisable compared to the woman you were minutes ago, welcome him.

[queerdaisyjane]

I love it here in Greece, daddy. Thank you so much for arranging this vacation for us. We’ve both needed to get away since mommy left us. You haven’t been dating at all. What happened to that gorgeous woman from your work, Margaux? She was French, right? I thought she was so elegant and stylish. Perfect for you. If you hadn’t been with her, I might have given it a shot. Oh you didn’t know? Yes, daddy I’m bi. I have been since college. Don’t you remember my friend, Taylor? Didn’t you think it was so weird we always were at each other’s houses? Daddy, we slept together, even. How could you be so clueless? Hehe. I guess you were busy with work and your breakup with mommy. There are probably other things you haven’t noticed. Did you see me twirl around in front of you just now? Yes in my swimsuit, and I don’t even have a cover up. Don’t you wonder why? Daddy, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time, either. We’re on vacation. I want to be with a man, daddy, right here. I want to wake up and know that I got fucked the night before, and that the person who fucked me is sleeping next to me. I’ve seen you naked, daddy. You’re the first man I ever saw. I’ve even spied on you and mommy when I was little. I saw her riding you early one morning. I know you have a nice-sized cock, daddy, perfect for my little body. I’m so much smaller than mommy, after all. In all the right, tight ways, too. Hehe. You know here, far away from home, no one here knows we’re related. And I’m on birth control. Daddy think about it. No one would have to know. And if you don’t want me anymore when we get home, I understand. I’m grown up now, and this is what I want

[wuuuuman]

Hiii!

I was wondering if u can do hazard dating fem!reader who was in a really bad abusive relationship that she’s having a ptsd attack but thank fully hazards there to comfort reader 🫶

If ur uncomfortable doing this that’s ok!

Omg hey hey hey. Thank you so much for the request! I had a very fun (not) time writing this because the subject is horrible but i had fun making the abuser eat absolute shit tho. If anyone is suffering from an abusive relationship please tell a trusted loved one, i know it is very hard with all the manipulation and everything but you are strong! and you can survive! You can also vent to me if you need to :) TW: Depression, Eating disorder mention, abusive ex, Story will go into detail with mental/physical abuse. PTSD attack, anxiety attack. I have never experienced PTSD attacks or seen anyone having them so i had to go off on what google offers. Sorry if its badly written!!

NOT PROOF READ!!! (3.5k words i think.) - She doesn’t know how this one big sweet hunk of a man had managed to slither his way past her walls. She thought her defenses would be good enough, she thought no one could ever get past them again. But here she is, walking hand in hand with him. He was chattering about his latest adventure with the phreak gang, being so enthusiastic while explaining every little detail. She loved to listen to him, she actually preferred that as well. She was not the one to open up easily about anything, not about her feelings, her needs, nothing. In the past she was in a relationship with this one guy she fell in love with madly. She would have done anything for him, she really loved him. And at first it seemed like he loved her as much too, their relationship was perfect. They were the sweethearts of their college, the perfect couple, always the prom king and queen. He would spoil her with gifts and compliments, he would take her on expensive dates and bring her along on family trips. Everything was just perfect… Then it all changed in a blink. He would stop showering her with compliments and gifts, obviously she wasn’t with him for the gifts and luxuries… But she also wasn’t with him for those cruel insults he would throw her way. He would insult anything she did, he would negatively comment on her appearance and weight. ‘Why aren’t you taking care of your skin as well as Stacey does? I can already see pimples forming on your cheek.’ ‘You should really start hitting the gym. You’ve gained a bit of weight. I don’t wanna be seen with a pig.’ ‘Get yourself together, I have standards to keep up.’ He would always compare her to the other popular girls, those who were the spoiled rotten kind girls. Blondes with green and blue eyes, having the latest designer clothing and bags. All of this really damaged her self-esteem, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror anymore. All she would see was this hideous monster with all the flaws and imperfections. Worst of all was the fact she knew she should leave him, but every time she tried talking to him he would fire back at her, manipulating her into thinking she needed him and that he was only trying to help her take “better” care of herself. ‘No one would want you in that state, I'm the only one who still wants to help you!’ ‘Please. Do you seriously think any guy would want a pig like you? Be happy I'm even allowing you to stand so close to me.’

And she believed him…

She stayed together with him for at least a year after his cruel personality came to be. Though the insults were not the only problem. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on partying and drinking again with his friends. He would go out to parties, rarely taking her with him, he would make out with other women and sometimes even have one night stands with them. The audacity he had to bring them to HIS house where she also lived. It hurt her so much to see him with another woman. The first time it happened she confronted him the next morning after the random girl had left, she cried out yelling at him. “How could you do this to me???!!” The answer she was met with was a slap to her face. Her eyes wide as she held her cheek, afraid to even look at him again. He started yelling back at her, throwing his hands around in frustration. After many times of asking her to look at him he had enough and took hold of her shoulders forcing her to look at him with her shock filled gaze. “How am I supposed to live with a ridiculous girlfriend who can’t take care of herself AND can’t even fill my needs huh?!!” He yelled at her face, pushing her down on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. She quickly scrambled away from him, jumping straight into her bed, crying into her pillow. Never in her life did she think he would lay his hands on her, hurt her like that. She doesn’t know why she didn’t just leave right then and there, maybe it was the months of manipulation at that point that still kept her under the roof. Or maybe it was the fact he had also gone as far as to threaten her if she ever left him. She was truly stuck and scared for her life. Her mentality had been scarred for good, she was depressed, she felt lifeless. She wanted to die, she wanted out of this situation. Her eyes were dull, no life behind them. She had developed eating disorders due to his comments and she had stopped taking care of herself all together. Her head was filled with nothing except self destructive thoughts and the need to escape this hell. The emotional abuse continued, and was even worse now. He kept on cheating on her with girls to satisfy his own needs, not bothering to even touch her in any way anymore. In his words she was too hideous to even look at. Not that she really cared honestly, she was glad he didn’t pay any attention to her, but still for some reason he didn’t kick her out. As she was one night scrolling through a social platform, looking at everyones happy lives, imagining hers could be like that as well had shen ever met her bf. She decided to go on his account, see what she was up to, what she saw made her heart break even more than it already was. He was posting a lot about her, acting as if he was her savior, making himself seem like an angel. So this is why he sometimes asked her to pose for a picture, the only

times he would give her small kisses or act sweet, the little hope she had began to get, vanished in an instant. She was only a pawn for him to use, she was a prisoner .It was during a shopping trip that the very thing she had been wishing for finally happened. Her bf had decided to take her out shopping for the first time in months, tired of seeing her in the same pair of clothes. She looked at the clothes in the thrift store, yeah he wouldn’t take her to expensive places anymore, apparently she wasn’t worth more than a few bucks to him. Not that she really cared anymore, she was never worth anything to begin with. After the very short shopping session they walked out of the store. She wasn’t really looking where she was walking and accidentally bumped into someone much bigger than her. She fell down on her ass, dropping her bag in the process. “Oh shit! My bad lassie-” The voice said, clearly someone Scottish. She looked up and oh lord the sight she saw. A very tall and frankly very muscular guy. He had blonde hair, his jawline was strong. He had a very stylish leather jacket on him, he was also pretty much half cybernetic. And his eyes… those beautiful orange-ish eyes, so full of life and energy… the complete opposite of hers. She was about to open her mouth and apologize but was cut off by her boyfriend. “Don’t apologize man, she should’ve been looking ahead.” Her boyfriend scoffed, taking hold of her arm and lifting her up rather harshly. “Cmon, apologize to him.” He demanded of her, giving her that look, she knew she would be in trouble later. “I-Im so sorry mister.. It was m-my bad.” She struggled with her words, not used to talking with other people. “It’s al’right. But are ya okay las?” He asked, one eyebrow raised a little bit after witnessing the way that man talked to her. She was surprised. Someone worried about her? Someone asking if she was okay? No no… He must be talking to her boyfriend. She was about to answer again but was stopped with a hard grip on her shoulder, making her wince. “She’s alright. Now go on mate, don't stick your nose into business that ain’t yours.” Her boyfriend said, turning her around to walk off. “Ay, wait up just a second here lass. Yer partner obviously ain’t feeling too well. And based on what I’ve seen by a minute I don’t think yer treatin’ her correct.” He said, stepping closer,

stopping her boyfriend by holding onto his shoulder. “Get your fucking hand off me. She is perfectly fine with me, right babe?” Her bf asked, threateningly. She stared between her boyfriend and the stranger. This could be her chance to escape from his constant torment and abuse, but the thought lingered, his threats made her hesitate a lot. ‘No no… (Name) this is your time. Who cares about his threats, you NEED to get out.’ Her mind would yell at her. “No.. No i'm not fine! He has been tormenting me for ages… I-I need help, please!” She said loudly, escaping from his grasp, her heart beating so fast. “You little fucking bitch! I’ll kill you-” He yelled out, about to punch her, only to be stopped by the strangers hand grasping his wrist. “Will you shut yer pus and get lost dafty.” He said, the threat evident in his voice. Her boyfriend stared at the stranger, his eyes wide. He let out a yell and went to punch the stranger, only to be met by a cybernetic hand to the face, knocking him out cold immediately. She gasped, looking away from the scene, afraid. “Sorry about that wee yin. Had to teach that scabby lass a lesson. Ya alright?” He turned to stare at her, keeping his distance, not wanting to scare the poor girl more. “I- thank you… Thank you so much…” She cried out. “It was nothin’ Could tell he wasn’t treatin’ ya right. The name’s Hazard, what about yus?” The man said, holding out a hand to give a gentle shake, if she wanted to of course. “(Name..)” She gave a weak smile, accepting the handshake.

- That all happened a good two years ago. It took a lot of time for her to open up to the idea of dating again. Hazard never pushed her into anything, nor did he really talk about wanting to be in a relationship with her directly. Of course from the day he met her, he already felt a certain pull towards her. Half a year after they met and started regularly hanging out his feelings truly became clear to him. She on the other hand felt safe for the first time in her life after they began hanging out, but the fear of it all going wrong again made her very scared and wary of everything they did together. It took her a good year before she realized she liked him, she didn’t know if she should pursue her feelings, and talk to him about him. She didn’t even know if he felt the same, she didn’t know if he would want to date someone as scared and vulnerable as her. After a long talk and feelings shared they shared a deep and meaningful hug, and they began dating slowly but surely. He assured her that every step of the way he would respect her boundaries, he would never initiate anything between them, she would have all the power. She respected that, a lot. A few months into their relationship she was ready to open up more about her past with her ex. She told him how he treated her, how her mental health suffered greatly because of him. How she was still struggling with her self esteem and mental problems because his words and actions would forever haunt her. Hazard listened through everything, gave her warm hugs whenever she started breaking down while explaining her story. Telling her it was never her fault and that her imperfections were what made her beautiful. He helped her get onto her feet, helped her with her eating disorder, getting her back to a healthy weight slowly but surely. Her hair got longer and more healthy, her bones slowly getting covered and her skin becoming more colorful. She still struggled with nightmares to this day, but whenever she woke up in tears he was there to wipe them away and calm her down. At the half year mark of their relationship she finally got the courage to kiss him, to let him hold her in a more intimate way, she loved every second of it. It had been so.. so very long since someone had loved her like Hazard did. He never went further than kissing her sweetly, he never even touched her unless she guided his hand somewhere on her body.

Her thoughts got cut off by Hazard patting her on the shoulder, pointing at the cafe they were supposed to eat at. She smiled at him and they went inside, ordering their food and going outside to eat. “Ay. I’m gonna go use the restroom real quick’ ait bonny?” Hazard smiled at her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Of course darling, I'll wait out here.” She smiled at him, watching as he got up and headed into the cafe. She stared at the scenery around her, looking at all the people walking around and socializing with each other. She felt so happy with Hazard, she felt lucky that she bumped into him when she did, otherwise she feels she would still be trapped or in the worst case scenario dead. As she bit into her croissant, not really paying attention to her surroundings her ears picked up a familiar voice, her heart stopped for a moment, her eyes widening in panic. That voice… no no.. it can’t be. It can't be! She raised her gaze just slightly to see her abusive ex talking with his now possible partner. A really hot one at that, obviously he would only go for the model type girls. She stared for a moment, a mistake she would soon come to regret as his gaze wandered before landing onto her. His mood shifted, happiness turning into anger. She knew that gaze. The look he would always give her whenever he was angry or disappointed with her, the gaze he had when he laid his hands on her. He said something to the girl before walking towards her. No no no no! She panicked, immediately opening her phone and typing a panicked message to Hazard, hoping he would notice it quick enough. Her heart was racing, her anxiety skyrocketing, all the bad memories crashing down around her in an instant. She flinched as she felt a hand slam down in front of her, she almost dropped her phone in the process too but held it close. “Look what we have here. Little piggy out here eating all by herself. Still haven’t been able to let go of the treats huh? No wonder you’ve gained so much weight again!” He laughed mockingly. She couldn’t answer, she couldn’t look at him, the only thing she could do was sit completely still, eyes glued to the ground, shaking. He got irritated fast by her ignoring him, he took hold of her jaw, forcing her face to turn to him.

She screamed out alerting all the other people nearby, some of them continued on and some just stared. “Look at me when I'm talking to you bitch!” He spat at her. She refused to listen to him, this angered her ex and he was about to say something again, only to be lifted off of her into the air. She stared as Hazard held him up high by the collar of his jacket, anger filling her usually sweet and collected boyfriend. A look she had never seen before, and didn’t want to ever either. Her mind blocked out everything he yelled at her ex, she had stopped looking too, she held her head in her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably, she was about to have a breakdown. She heard the sound of a hard punch being thrown at someone and then a table getting smashed. Some people trying to get in between the fight and stop it. And as quickly as it all started it ended. Her ex was bruised and bloody on the ground, his now current girlfriend trying to wake him up, yelling profanities at Hazard. “Haud yer wheesht hackit. Yer boyfriend had it comin’ should’ve never come close to (name) again.” Hazard scoffed, before turning to (Name), seeing her in such a state broke his heart. “Come on bonny, let’s get outta here.” He said. She could only slowly nod as he took hold of her hand leading her away. The car ride was long and silent, Hazard kept looking at her, wanting to make small talk but he could tell she was in a bad place right now. As they finally arrived home she immediately got out of the car and ran inside her apartment, Hazard quickly following after. The moment she got inside her bedroom she fell to her knees breaking down completely, all the panic and years worth of memories breaking free. She cried out loudly, curling up into a small defensive ball, her body shaking like crazy. She couldn’t breathe, all she could hear and see were the memories. She could only hear her ex’s hurtful words, she could only feel the pain he inflicted on her. She was completely dissociated from the real world, being kept as a prisoner in her own memories. A few seconds felt like minutes to her. She was sweating profusely, her heart thumping against her chest.

Hazard ran into her bedroom, kneeling next to her, he didn’t know what to do. He had never seen this before, sure she had small episodes here and then but this was different. This was so much different. He tried to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze but was met by her body twitching violently at the touch and her screaming out.

“STOP! DON’T HURT ME PLEASE!” She would yell, thinking Hazard was her ex. “No no no.. Bonny… It’s just me, you’re fine, you’re alright… I’m here.” Hazard spoke in such a sweet tone, trying to get her to calm down at least a little bit. She was still sobbing, still curled up not responsive. He didn’t give up, he talked to her through it all, he didn’t touch her, he didn’t want to trigger another reaction from her. He just talked, he told her about their old memories together having fun and laughing at stupid things. He talked to her about his gang, the things they do and the embarrassing memories of himself.

She was starting to calm down just slightly, her shaking becoming minimal, her loud cries turning into small sobs here and there. He would praise her for doing so good, for being a strong survivor. It had been almost an hour since her episode began and she was finally beginning to calm down enough for her body to relax. She wasn’t curled up into a tight ball anymore, she was still lying on the floor though, still unable to look at him.

“Yer doin’ so good wee yin. I’m proud of ya.” Hazard smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“H-hazard..?” She mumbled out weakly, lifting herself up just slightly to look at him.

“Yeah bonny? I’m here, whateva you need I’ll get it for ya” Hazard said.

“D-Don’t leave me… please just.. just hold me.” She begged.

He didn’t need to be told twice, he didn’t even need to answer as his hands found themselves around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. She sat on his lap, her face in his bare chest, listening to his calm heartbeat, the warmth of his skin soothing her. His hands rubbed her back lovingly, whispering quiet praises into her ear. Her sobs disappeared completely, her body was now relaxed, her heart no longer racing and thumping against her chest. She could feel herself succumbing to fatigue, her vision slowly blacking.

“Tired.. I'm so tired…” She mumbled against his chest.

“I got ya. Let’s get into bed a‘right hun.” Hazard said, as he lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

He got into bed, still holding her close to her, having her almost on top of him. He pulled the covers over her and stared at the top of her head, giving her a small kiss to calm her down more. “Im never leaving yer side alright? Sleep well bonny.” He mumbled, still giving gentle rubs on her back. She felt safe, she could sleep without worrying about anything. She knew Hazard was a good man, she let sleep take her into dreamland. And for the first time in a long long time she did not see nightmares. She only saw Hazard in her dreams, she saw dreams of their future, living out their days together in happiness. A smile decorated her face, a sight that made Hazard's heart jump in happiness. He truly loved this woman to bits, he would do anything for her, Anything.

- our little green flag bf.

[screamintoad]

Leap

A/n: Just a lil something. Nothing long but it gets my points across for what happened before Rory came to Twisted Wonderland

TW: implied self harm, attempt at suicide, angst with happy ending

  The library was emptier than usual. Most students were just meandering before the bell rang, yet one group took an entire table and were surrounded by books. Ace closed one of the books in front of him and asked something that made Rory freeze. 

  “Do you ever wonder how you got here?”

  The brunette groaned in agitation. “Of course I do.” Then Deuce spoke up, “What’s…the last thing you remember before showing up?” His voice was far more hesitant as he knew this was a touchy subject. Rory sighed and sat down his pen. 

  “Jumping, then…falling.”

~~~

  The rain hit in heavy drops. The sun no where to be seen. Rory panted as he slowed down to a walk, the road was empty from the storm. Any smart person knew not to drive in this weather, especially on these back roads. Yet, he was insane enough to run all the way here. His chest burned as he heaved for air. At the ledge of the bridge, he looked down. The heavy rain made everything almost invisible but he could imagine the dense forest, rigid rocks, and slick mud. All of it waited at the bottom of this ledge. 

  He scratched his arm, he can’t recall why, but the dried blood from previous scratches stained his nails. Rory looked straight ahead and he could’ve sworn he saw someone reaching out a hand to him. He thought about the other people who ended their lives here and he came to a conclusion. His voice wavered as he spoke up. 

  “I don’t want to die-“ 

  The image in front of him answered, “Then learn to trust and take a leap!”

  As if he was pushed, he reached forward and his feet left the ledge. The air was fleeting around him. He fell for gods know how long yet, he didn’t hit the ground. 

  When he awoke he was no longer wet, he was no longer dirty, and he was in a dark cramped space. Until an odd creature pushed open the lid of the coffin. 

~~~

  Heels clacked against the hard floors of the mirror chamber. Rory paused his steps in front of the Dark Mirror to adjust his clothing. Even years later he’s still connected to Night Raven College in some way. Argos trotted behind him from where they came from, the mirror to Ramshackle. Even as a professor, the students there look up to him as the “first” student there. Crowley finally let a mirror be created there now that more students got sorted into it. “Everything okay?” The hound asked. Rory smiled and nodded his head, “Yes, just making sure I look presentable. The last thing I need is Dad-I mean Professor Crewel-to call me out on any wrinkles on my jacket or pants.” He reached down to scratch his familiar behind its ears. As he stood up straight he couldn’t help but notice a picture in the mirror. 

  He slowly walked over and gasped when he saw what it was. It was him, the old him, but him nonetheless. 

  Standing on that dreaded ledge. 

  He reached his arm out and was surprised that he could go through the mirror. Rory heard his younger self mumble, “I don’t want to die-“ and before he could think he shouted. 

  “Then learn to trust and take a leap!”