#it really has not always been this way there was a long time after the band it didn't seem to be the case at all

[readwritealldayallnight]

reader who is flexible / does yoga x simon who gets really flustered watching it? 👀

During those first few months of living together as flatmates, having gone from strangers who happened to have a friend in common to sharing a bedroom wall within 24 hours, you both learned a lot about each other

On your end, you learned that his presence in the flat was a rarity, gone for days if not weeks at a time before coming home. Even then, he usually was only back for short periods of time, most of it spent sleeping

You do discover that he’s an early riser however, much to your chagrin when the sound of his routine post workout shower wakes you up before the sun has ever risen

You learn that he’s a decent enough cook, but will always insist on helping in some way if he finds you in the kitchen working on something, no matter how simple or complicated the dish is

Over time you even find out how he prefers his tea in the morning and when you get the chance, try and surprise him with a warm drink waiting for him after his shower

When you know that he prefers to keep the flat a little cooler than you usually have it, you’ll turn the thermometer down a degree just before he comes home, just as he’s gotten into the habit of turning it back up for you on his way out, the gesture going unspoken between the two of you

Simon also learns a lot about you in the time since you’ve moved in

He learns all about your taste in music, a melody never not playing in the background of whichever room you’re occupying, often telling him the name of a song or artist you can tell he likes from the way his foot will tap or fingers will drum against his thigh

He discovers you’re a bit of a night owl, often hearing you in the kitchen baking some dessert or another at midnight, or talking on the phone with a friend. He never minds though. In one case he wakes up to sweet treats in the morning, and the other he gets to overhear your even sweeter voice chirping and giggling. And if one time a smile of his own graces his lips when he hears you telling your friend how you’re loving the new flat, and your flatmate “isn’t so bad on the eyes either”, then who’s complaining?

He finds out what your favourite take out food is, often surprising you with something on his return home, definitely not blushing under the mask if it earns him a hug or peck on the cheek as thanks

But one thing Simon learns about you early on, something that he thinks about not just at home but on base, in briefings, on missions, on helis and jets and trucks, is how part of your daily routine, is doing fucking yoga in the living room.

He’s been in countless situations most civilians could never even dream up, let alone withstand, and Simon under the mask that is Ghost always stays as cool and collected as any seasoned vet would

But seeing you in sweatpants, or leggings, or even worse when you’re wearing those shorts of yours, strolling into the living room with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, his pants instantly tighten every single time, knowing what’s to come (or rather who’s to c-)

Following along to your instructional video playing on the telly, paying him no mind as he sits in the adjoining kitchen as you bend into position after position, simply doing your nightly routine as you have for years now, unknowingly putting your flatmate through a torture he’s never endured before

Every time he’s lucky enough to witness you stretching your limbs, contorting your body into poses he couldn’t fathom doing himself, he finds his dreams that night filled with the very same images of you, though wearing far less clothing, and in his bed instead of a yoga mat, though he would take you anywhere let’s be honest

He always waits for you to finish your routine, be it a quick 15 minute stretch or a nearly hour long session, he remains and watches you until you leave, before he dares to stand with his arousal on full display through his pants, rushing to his room or bathroom to take care of business

He learns that he’s never felt more intense pleasure at his own hand than when he thinks of you, when he has has your face and body freshly imprinted on his mind as he finishes, imagining the heaven that it must be to have the real thing rather than his calloused fist

It’s interesting you see

You really like Simon, and you like when he’s home, like getting to know him and spend more time with him

And if you happen to learn that when you do your yoga routine out where he can see you, that he suddenly spends a lot more time in the flat than on base, coming home more and more often, no matter how short his stay is… well, who’s complaining?

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -

[teaandcrowns]

fanfiction.net also send emails, though the site itself has devolved into a hot mess imo.

I think there's a really important conversation to be had here around the type of content-as-content that social media has pushed and pushed and pushed on people the last decade or so, to instill some implication that something has to be recent, current, brand shiny new, in order to be worthwhile or worth giving deeper connection and attention to. Content-as-text*, if you will.

Written works—which include fanfiction, yes—are as permanent fixtures as we can get of content-as-text, and they are evergreen in allowing for connection and engagement, and fanfiction is open to this in particular with the capability of comments (and direct messaging).

I think there's another element to this regarding how engagement with content-as-content, which does not seem to encourage in-depth interaction, lengthy discussion, or a series of back and forths between creators and audience or even between members of the audience. Content-as-text, in my mind, is much more encouraging of that, and was also heavily encouraged by Web 1.0 primarily with forums and early Web 2.0 with interactive blogging-forum sites like LiveJournal. Web 3.0, with its focus on constant generation of content (as content), summarily leaves the space and, I would argue more importantly, time for longer and deeper interaction and engagement in its proverbial dust; it is not concerned with how people actually feel about the content so long as they are still consuming the content.

This brings me to a thought concerning what I, and others, have noted as a lack of what I have frequently seen termed "curating your fandom experience." Algorithms now decide what to content-as-content to show based off what you have seen before. There are (virtually) no more chronological feeds. You can only "sleep" functions rather than say, "No." In short, you are no longer the one with the most agency in your online experience if you choose to use or be on certain sites. If this has been someone's primary modality of interacting with any kind of fandom spaces (or any online community spaces), there can almost be no way to have true organic community the way humans have always made community and made connections. You are not encouraged to view something older as still relevant, you are not encouraged to curate your own spaces because you are being given things based off a calculation of your activity, whether or not that is accurate. It's become a commodification of our attention, because so long as we keep consuming, they will keep the conveyor belt of content-as-content churning and turning.

This is a very circumlocutious and somewhat long-winded way of saying that we need to start taking back our spaces, our time, and our attention. Don't sort AO3 by most kudos or most comments; try sorting by first uploaded. Try not sorting at all (after you apply your preferred filters) and go five, ten, twenty pages deep to see what you find. Interact with the content-as-text as it moves you. Choose who you want to follow—use the "blogs you follow" tab on tumblr instead of the "recommended for you." Engage meaningfully with other members of your communities and find others through those connections instead. Use fanfic rec lists made by folks; make your own and share them. Take back your attention, your time, and your spaces.

*by "text" I mean anything that we can experience, read, or view as an audience and think and interact deeply about across modalities, not just written word

not to be "comment on fanfic even if they are oooold"

But I just read a pretty good fic published in 2014-2015 (you know, roughly TEN YEARS AGO) and I was like, damn this is so cool, I have to leave a comment, even if you know, they probably wont see it...

The author replied less than an hour later.

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (1); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Word Count: 6.6k+

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Warnings: nothing major for now, lmk if i should add anything.

A/N: okay so after much thought, I decided to write this fic because Crazy Rich Asians is, without a doubt, my ultimate comfort movie. I literally rewatch it every chance I get because there's just something about the vibes, the story, and the characters that I can never move on from. That’s exactly why I wanted to create my own little version of it, with Jungkook as the main character. let me know your thoughts and tell me if this is worth continuing. also should i make a taglist for this?

part 1

Jungkook sits in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water glass. The soft hum of classical music mingles with the low chatter of the people around, but none of it distracts him from the bubbling anticipation inside as he waits for you.

It’s been four months since the two of you had officially started dating, and though you guys had been cautious about defining what you meant to each other, these past months have solidified everything for him. You aren’t just someone he likes... you’re someone who makes his world brighter in ways he never thought possible.

New York has been his home for years now, but it didn’t always feel that way. When he abruptly moved here with his mom during high school, he reluctantly traded the familiar streets of Busan and the ocean breeze he grew up with for the city that never sleeps.

The move was sudden, jarring even, but over time, he adjusted. The city shaped him, sharpening his edges and teaching him resilience. Now, he’s built a life here, chasing his passion for storytelling as a photographer and documentary filmmaker, capturing untold stories that deserve to be heard.

Life was peaceful... steady, even. And then you walked in and turned everything upside down, in a good way.

He met you almost a year ago, purely by chance. He was documenting behind-the-scenes moments at a charity gala, a commission he almost didn’t take, when you appeared, orchestrating the chaos of models, designs, and flashing cameras like the professional powerhouse you are.

You were magnetic, the kind of person who commanded attention without even trying. Jungkook watched from behind his lens, capturing candid moments until one of your colleagues introduced him to you.

“Ah, so you’re the genius behind the lens.” you teased, offering a hand. “I’m Y/N, the one responsible for the clothes you’re immortalizing.”

Your confidence threw him off guard, but what stayed with him was your laugh... so soft and so genuine, the kind that lingers in his mind long after the event ends.

What followed after was a series of serendipitous run-ins—an art exhibit here, a mutual friend’s dinner there. Each meeting peeled back another layer of who you are, until he realized he was utterly captivated.

Now, as he waits for you to arrive tonight, Jungkook can’t help but think of how far the two of you have come. A lot can change in a year, he thinks. His lips tug into a small smile at the thought of your teasing voice, your quick wit, the way you light up every room you enter. You’ve become the best part of his life, and for the first time in years, he feels genuinely happy.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and there you are. You wear a soft pink dress that hugs your form perfectly, your hair framing your face in a way that makes his heart skip. When your eyes meet his, you smile instantly, and Jungkook feels his pulse quicken.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say as you reach the table, placing your bag on the chair as you watch him pull out the chair for you. “I got caught up at work.” you say, taking a seat.

“No need to apologize.” he says warmly, going back to his side of the table. “You’re here now and you look... incredible.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though your cheeks betray you with a faint flush. “Says the guy who looks like he just walked out of a GQ spread.” you giggle.

“Only because I knew I’d be sitting across from you.” he shoots back with a grin. You laugh, shaking your head as you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “Flirt.”

The conversation flows as effortlessly as always, a mix of updates about your respective work lives and lighthearted banter. You tell him about the chaos of coordinating last-minute changes for an upcoming fashion week, while he shares stories from his recent project, a documentary highlighting immigrant artists in the city.

But midway through dinner, he notices a shift in your demeanor. Your laughter softens, and you begin fiddling with the edge of your napkin, a subtle sign of nerves he’s come to recognize.

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his hand gently over yours. “You okay?” he asks, his tone soft but laced with concern. You glance up at him, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His brow furrows slightly, but his touch remains steady, reassuring. “I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze flicking between him and the table as you speak. “So, um... in three weeks, my brother is getting married. The wedding’s in Daegu, my hometown and my whole family's planning.. all these... these events leading up to it, and...” You pause, mustering the courage to meet his eyes. “and I’d really like you to come... with me.”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. You’ve rarely spoken about your family during your time together. All he knows is that you have an older brother whose name is Kim Taehyung, and that your work keeps you far from home. You’ve always been reserved when it comes to personal matters, and he never pushed, understanding that some things take time to share.

“You want me to meet your family?” he asks, his voice careful but touched with wonder.

You nod, your fingers curling slightly under his. “I know it’s a big step, but... you’re important to me, Jungkook. I want you to know them and I want them to know you... and i just.... I just want you to be there.”

His heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. He squeezes your hand gently, a soft smile curving his lips. “Of course I’ll go.” he says, his voice steady and full of certainty. “Thank you for asking me. This means a lot, Y/N.”

You exhale, relief washing over your features as your lips tug into a smile. “You have no idea how nervous I was to bring it up.”

“Well, you don’t have to be nervous about anything when it comes to me.” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. “Though... should I be nervous about meeting your family? Any tips I need to survive?”

You laugh, the tension melting away as his words reassure you. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you... I hope.”

“They’d be crazy not to.” he grins, his confidence laced with a playful charm.

As the conversation moves forward, Jungkook can’t shake the weight of what you’ve just shared. This isn’t just an invitation... it’s a glimpse into the part of your world you’ve kept hidden. And he knows, without a doubt, that he wants to be part of it.

//

The three weeks seem to blur together for Jungkook, filled with excitement, planning, and the growing anticipation of returning to Korea. Now, he’s standing just outside the bustling airport, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, glancing at the crowd for any sign of you. He knows you’ll be here soon with the tickets, and just the thought of seeing you has a smile tugging at his lips.

It’s been years since he last visited Korea, and the idea of going back stirs up a mix of emotions... nostalgia, eagerness, and a tinge of nervousness. But it isn’t just your family he’s excited to meet... he can’t stop thinking about reuniting with Yoongi, an old friend from his university days.

Jungkook remembers how they first met. Yoongi, fresh from Daegu, adapting to the fast pace of New York, with a wit and humor that made their friendship click instantly. They spent countless nights bonding over shared meals and dreams, but after Yoongi finished his studies and returned to Korea, they lost touch. Now, the opportunity to see him again feels like a bonus to this trip.

When Jungkook had mentioned that he'd be visiting Daegu for a short trip to Yoongi during a rare phone call, Yoongi had insisted, “You better visit me for lunch or dinner the second you land, Jeon. I’ll be waiting.” It had been less of an invitation and more of a command and a promise Jungkook fully intends to keep.

His thoughts are interrupted when he spots you approaching with your suitcase. Your face lights up the moment your eyes meet, and Jungkook feels his heart lift as he strides forward to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, planting a soft kiss on your lips, his familiar warmth seeping into you.

“You ready for this?” you ask, your grin contagious. “With you? Always.” he affirms easily, grabbing your suitcase to lighten your load as the two of you head towards security.

After passing through the usual chaos of airport checks, you finally board the plane. Jungkook trails closely behind, his eyes scanning the rows of economy seats, prepared to settle in for the long flight. But you keep walking, breezing past one row after another, heading towards the front of the plane.

“Y/N...” he calls softly, a frown of confusion crossing his features. “I think we passed our seats.” You barely glance back, simply motioning for him to follow with a playful wave of your hand. “Just trust me, Kook.”

Jungkook’s confusion only grows as you step into the business class section. His steps slow as he takes in his surroundings... the stark difference from the cramped seats in economy hits him instantly. Business class looks like another world.

The seats are spacious, arranged in private compartments with high partitions for privacy. The lighting is soft and ambient, with a warm golden glow that feels more like a cozy lounge than an airplane cabin. Flight attendants move quietly through the aisles, offering passengers drinks and handing out fancy pajama sets.

Jungkook’s jaw drops as he watches you casually slide into one of the luxurious seats, making yourself comfortable. He hurries forward, his voice incredulous. “Y/N, this is business class... Our seats aren’t here!”

You look up at him with a calm smile, gesturing to the seat beside yours. “They gave me an upgrade.” you say simply, patting the spot for him to sit. His eyes narrow in confusion as he sets down his bag. “Upgrade? Can we even afford this?” he asks, using his hands to gesture towards the private compartment.

You laugh lightly, already reclining your seat with the touch of a button. “Relax, Kook. My family has some business ties with the airline. It’s just a little perk.” (Nick Young coded girlfriend)

“A little perk?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief as he finally sits down. He presses a button on the armrest, watching in awe as the seat reclines into a flatbed. “Y/N, this isn’t a perk... this is a dream. Look at this place! It’s like a five-star hotel in the air.”

You grin, watching his childlike amazement as he fiddles with every feature. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to economy class now...that feels like a distant nightmare.”

A flight attendant approaches with a tray of pre-departure champagne, offering the glasses with a polite smile. Jungkook accepts one hesitantly, holding it up like it might break. “Champagne? On a plane? This is insane.” he continues.

You can't help but giggle at his cuteness as you casually take a sip from your glass as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As the plane prepares for takeoff, Jungkook leans back in his seat, still marveling at the luxurious surroundings. He sneaks another glance at you, the contentment on your face making his heart swell. This trip is already shaping up to be unforgettable, and it hasn’t even truly started yet.

//

Jungkook feels the weight of your pout pressed against his chest as you stand in his arms, his hands gently brushing through your hair in a comforting motion. He can’t help but smile softly, though he feels the tiniest tug at his heart seeing you so disappointed.

He knew this lunch with Yoongi was important, and he knew you understood... at least, logically. But seeing the way you looked at him, that little furrow between your brows, made him feel a little guilty. “It’s just lunch, baby.” he says, his voice soothing, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

“I promised him, and he never takes no for an answer.” He chuckles softly, but his smile fades when he feels the reluctance in your grip on him.

You knew he had plans with Yoongi the moment you touched down in Daegu. You had known this from the start, had heard about the lunch plan in passing, but that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake.

The thought of him going off without you, to catch up with an old friend while you drove home alone, kind of made you sad. You were fully aware of the importance of this lunch, but that didn’t stop the tiny selfish part of you from wishing he’d be with you, just for a little while longer.

“I know...” you murmur, your voice betraying the tiny bit of sulk in your tone, but you try to let it go. You weren’t going to hold him back. "Fine." you finally say, pulling back to meet his gaze.

And the way he looks at you affectionately makes you feel like you’ve won some small victory. “But...” you add with a little smile. “I expect you to be at my place at 7. You know my grandma’s having that traditional tea ceremony thing and I promised her I was bringing someone special home.”

His eyes light up at your words, the thought of joining you for something so important and so personal. “Of course.” he replies without hesitation, his voice earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

You smile softly, knowing he means it. And yet, despite his assurances, you can’t shake the lingering feeling of missing him. Just a little. Before you can dwell on it too much, you hear a voice break through the moment.

“Ms. Kim.”

You turn, blinking a little in surprise as your driver steps forward, his presence bringing a sudden rush of formality to the otherwise intimate moment. “The car is here.” he states matter-of-factly, and you know that this is your cue to part ways.

You sigh softly, reluctantly loosening your hold around Jungkook’s waist, but not without giving him one last lingering look. Your lips curl in a pout, but you try to hide it behind the gentle smile you offer him.

“Okay then…” you start, your voice trailing off as you look at him, uncertainty settling in your chest. “I’ll see you soon?” The question hangs in the air, like a promise and a plea all at once.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, that familiar ache in his chest growing stronger as he sees the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. But then his lips curl upward, soft but sincere. “Of course, baby. I’ll be there. I love you.” His words are steady, and his eyes hold something deeper than just affection... something unwavering.

You nod quickly, feeling a mix of relief and longing. “I love you too.” you whisper back before turning away, following your driver towards the airport's exit.

Jungkook watches you walk away, his heart heavy in his chest, the pang of guilt creeping up again. He promises himself to make it up to you later. Now, he just needed to get through lunch with Yoongi.

But as soon as the sound of your footsteps fades and you disappear from his sight, his phone buzzes in his pocket. The familiar name on the screen catches his attention, and he answers without a second thought. “Hey, Mom.”

Her voice crackles through the line, warm but concerned. “Hello Jungkook-ah, I just wanted to check in. You landed safely?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to his mom’s voice on the other end of the line, the familiar warmth making him smile despite the anxiousness he feels about what’s ahead. He’s about to step into a world that’s so different from New York, where he’s spent most of his adult life. But now, back in Korea, things feel unfamiliar in a way that both excites and intimidates him.

“Yes, Ma... I landed a while ago.” he answers, feeling a small wave of relief hearing her voice. “That’s good, honey... How’s Y/N?” she asks with that gentle concern she always has for the people he cares about.

“She’s good. She just left though, and I’m waiting for Yoongi to come pick me up.” he replies, smiling softly as he instantly thinks of you. “How does it feel to be back in Korea?” he hears his mom question, her tone soft but curious.

He smiles, leaning against the nearest pillar with his luggage beside him as he waits for Yoongi. “So far, so good, but I’m still at the airport, so I can’t say much.” he jokes. His mom lets out a quiet laugh, the sound comforting.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she switches to a more serious tone. “Remember what I told you, Kook... Stay put there. You know how it is in Korea... with the elders and the... the people. It’s very different from here, so please take care with what you say and how you say it.”

It’s a reminder he’s heard before, but hearing it again feels heavier now that he’s here, about to meet your family and step into a culture that’s rooted in tradition and respect, something that’s been passed down for generations.

Jungkook’s smile falters for a moment as he nods, even though she can’t see him. He knows exactly what she means. He’s always been more carefree, more western in his ways of expressing himself, and in Korea, especially when it comes to elders, there’s a deep respect for hierarchy and custom that’s different from what he’s generally used to.

“I know, Ma. I’ll keep everything in mind.” he assures her, his voice more serious now. “You’re not a kid anymore, Kook, but just... be mindful, okay? Don’t let them misunderstand your intentions. I just want you to be careful.” Her voice softens with motherly concern, and Jungkook feels his heart warm.

“I will. I promise.” he replies, knowing that this trip, meeting your family... it’s more important than ever to prove to them that he’s not just another guy in the city.... he’s not just your boyfriend. He wants to show them how serious he is about you and the future you guys could have together.

He glances around at the busy terminal, the buzz of passengers and the distant announcements. It all feels so different from New York. So... foreign. But he’ll make it through. He’s used to adapting. And this, he tells himself, is just the beginning.

“Alright, Kook... you take care, yeah?” she says. Jungkook hums. "I will. Bye, Ma." he replies back and soon, the call ends.

Just as Jungkook tucks his phone back into his pocket, he hears a deafening roar that cuts through the murmur of the airport. The unmistakable sound of an engine revving... loud, aggressive, and powerful, draws his attention immediately.

His head snaps to the right, eyes scanning the street. His gaze locks onto a sleek purple Lamborghini, its engine purring with a force that vibrates the ground beneath him as it races towards him.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an instinctive suspicion flickering across his face as the car approaches. He’s not sure why, but something feels… off, or rather, intriguing. The car comes to an abrupt halt right in front of him, the tires squealing as they grip the asphalt. Jungkook freezes, blinking in disbelief.

The tinted window slowly rolls down, and for a moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. When the driver’s face comes into view, Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. “Yoongi?!” he exclaims, his voice tinged with utter shock and disbelief.

Yoongi grins, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ain’t no way...” Jungkook mutters under his breath, still processing the surreal sight of Yoongi sitting behind the wheel of a car that looks like it belongs to someone straight out of a high-stakes action movie. Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused by Jungkook’s reaction.

“What’s good, my man? Meet my baby.” Yoongi says with a sly smirk, his fingers casually tracing the contours of the steering wheel like this car was just an everyday ride for him.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open in awe. He can’t remember the last time he was this speechless. The purple Lamborghini gleams under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the neon glow of the airport. Jungkook’s eyes follow every curve, every sharp angle, as if seeing it in person is somehow more unreal than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi, clearly unfazed by the wide-eyed look Jungkook is giving him, steps out of the car with an effortless swagger. He’s dressed in an oversized, silk button-up shirt that drapes over his frame in a relaxed way.

The half-sleeves of the shirt billow out just above his elbows, adding a laid-back yet refined touch to his look. Paired with the shirt are matching shorts that reach just below his knees, the material soft and flowy, almost weightless.

Around his neck, a thick silver chain glints in the sunlight, its boldness standing out against the simplicity of his outfit, giving him an air of casual but undeniable wealth.

Without a word, he grabs Jungkook’s luggage from the ground and begins loading it into the trunk of his car.

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and watches him, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Get in, dude." Yoongi laughs with a nudge to Jungkook’s shoulder, his tone light, almost playful, as he walks back around to the driver’s side.

Jungkook slides into the plush passenger seat, still feeling like he’s stepped into another world. The interior of the Lamborghini is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. As his eyes roam around, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s in a dream.

Every inch of the car screams excess, sophistication, and unspoken wealth. The steering wheel is trimmed in carbon fiber, the gearshift feels solid in Yoongi’s hand, and everything seems perfectly engineered, like it was crafted for the few who could afford such a ride.

Yoongi starts the engine with a smooth hum, and Jungkook jerks his head towards him, still shocked. "You never told me you had a Lamborghini." he says, his voice betraying his disbelief.

Yoongi just laughs, his eyes glancing briefly at Jungkook before focusing back on the road. "Well, that's because I didn’t have this back in university." he shrugs nonchalantly, a casual smirk playing on his lips. The car pulls smoothly out of the airport, its engine growling like a beast waking up.

Jungkook stares at him, still processing everything. "But wow, dude? You hit the lottery or something? This car is insane." he breathes out. Yoongi chuckles again but doesn’t answer, as if the question doesn’t deserve a response.

The city of Daegu blurs by outside the tinted windows, the sun reflecting off the glass as they drive deeper into the heart of the city. Jungkook can feel the rhythm of the drive, the perfect balance between speed and luxury, as the Lamborghini effortlessly weaves through traffic, its engine purring in a low, contented hum.

The sound of the tires on the road and the occasional rumble of the car’s exhaust fill the silence between them as they talk. Their conversation drifts to more casual topics... catching up on life after university, their mutual friends, and everything in between. Jungkook listens intently, but something about the ride and everything else, still has him on edge.

Then, suddenly, the city streets begin to change. The hustle and bustle of downtown Daegu fades away, replaced by quiet, tree-lined roads and grand, gated estates. Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion. The mansions are larger than anything he’s ever seen.

Multi-story buildings with sprawling lawns, perfectly manicured gardens, and tall gates that exude old money. The kind of money that felt untouchable, like a world he’d never thought he’d be a part of.

Yoongi slows the car as they approach a massive set of gates, gleaming with metal and ornate designs. They pause for a moment, and Jungkook watches as the gates swing open effortlessly, granting them access to enter.

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more as they drive in, the long, curved driveway leading them deeper into the estate. The mansion that comes into view is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s grand and set against the backdrop of lush trees, with a modern yet classic architectural style.

The house gleams under the afternoon sunlight, its windows large and open, letting the soft glow of interior lights spill out into the day. As they pass by, Jungkook can’t help but notice the impressive collection of cars parked near the house, each one more expensive than the last.

There’s a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, a gleaming Ferrari 488, a silver Porsche 911 Turbo, and a sleek Aston Martin DB11, all parked in perfect alignment, as if they belong to the same elite circle. The cars shine brightly in the afternoon sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the elegance of the estate.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding around him. He’s never seen anything like this in his life. "What is this… What is this place?" he breathes out, his voice almost reverent, like he’s stumbled into a world that doesn’t seem real.

Yoongi’s smirk is still there, a knowing glint in his eyes as he pulls the car to a stop, right in front of the grand entrance of the beautiful mansion. He looks over at Jungkook, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. "Welcome to my crib, Kook." he says.

Jungkook's mouth open, words just stuck in the middle of his throat. His mind is still processing everything, the scene outside seeming like a surreal dream. This is all too much to take in.

Yoongi was RICH rich and he didn't have a single clue about it. As they step out of the car, Jungkook notices a man approaching swiftly towards them and by the looks of his attire, it's clear that he's a guard.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi tosses his car keys at him, and the man catches them with practiced ease. "He'll grab your luggage in a bit." Yoongi says casually, already heading towards the mansion's entrance. Jungkook, still processing whatever the hell this is, follows him like a lost child, unable to do anything but take in the overwhelming sight that surrounds him.

The moment they step inside the house, Jungkook's eyes widen, but before he can even begin to appreciate the stunningly opulent interiors like marble floors or the high ceilings or the glistening chandeliers, a shrill voice cuts through the air. "Yoon, you're hereeee!"

Jungkook’s brow furrows as he watches a woman, probably in her 50s, stand right in front of them. She’s dressed in a chic, over-the-top outfit... a silk floral blouse with exaggerated puffed sleeves, tailored trousers, and a lavish pearl necklace that gleams with the faintest hint of arrogance.

Her perfectly styled hair is in a tight updo, and in her arms, she cradles a fluffy kitten, which she’s stroking affectionately, completely oblivious to Jungkook's stunned expression.

Yoongi barely reacts, his face giving away nothing as he responds, "Yes, mom." with a tone that suggests this is nothing out of the ordinary. Without hesitation, he gestures towards Jungkook, who’s still very much amused. “This is Jungkook, a friend from New York.” he introduces calmly.

She steps closer to Jungkook, her eyes widening as she takes in his appearance. "Such a handsome face." she says with a bright smile, fluttering her lashes dramatically. Jungkook feels his ears turn red, but tries to mask it with a polite smile.

"Come, come, why are you still standing by the door?" she continues in a sing-song voice, already turning towards the grand dining hall. "Lunch is just about to be served."

Without waiting for a response, she leads them through the sprawling corridor, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Jungkook follows, still processing the luxury surrounding him.

As they enter the enormous dining room, the sheer size of the table takes his breath away. It looks like something straight out of a royal palace, with intricately carved wood and sparkling silverware laid out meticulously. Seated around the table are five people, two men, a woman, and two little girls. The air feels heavy with formality and expectation.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook's distracted gaze, gestures towards each person with casual confidence. "That's my dad." he says, pointing to the middle-aged man sitting at the center of the table who gives Jungkook a bright smile, as he nods acknowledging his presence.

"That's my brother, Geumjae." Yoongi continues, nodding towards the younger man seated to the left. Geumjae has the same sharp features as Yoongi, and he cheerfully waves at Jungkook. "Yooo." he says.

Next, Yoongi points at a woman sitting beside him. "That's his wife, Chaeri." he adds, the warmth in his voice making it clear they have a close bond. "And those are his daughters, Minji and Yuna." he finishes, gesturing to the two little girls sitting next to each other as they giggle shyly to themselves.

Jungkook nods politely at everyone, his nerves creeping in as he takes in the situation. Yoongi's family seems very welcoming, but he's still extremely nervous. He’s not used to this kind of environment, and it shows, but he quickly remembers his manners. He straightens up and gives a right-angled bow, a gesture of respect that his mother taught him for situations like this.

"Hello, I’m Jungkook." he says, his voice steady but laced with a slight hint of uncertainty. He smiles warmly at them, hoping his attempt at a formal greeting isn’t too awkward.

Jungkook feels a shift in the atmosphere as Yoongi's father lets out a hearty laugh. "Yahh, no need to be so formal." he chuckles, waving a hand dismissively.

"Come, take a seat before the food gets cold." His voice is warm and inviting, making Jungkook relax a little. Geumjae, his brother, nods in agreement. Jungkook looks at Yoongi, unsure, but Yoongi simply gives him a small shrug and gestures for him to sit.

They both take their seats, followed by Yoongi’s mother, who settles herself gracefully at the table. Jungkook glances around, noticing the opulence of the setting... the gleaming china plates, the glistening silver cutlery, the rich aroma of the food filling the air. He feels a bit out of place but tries to steady himself, taking in the high-end cuisine laid out before him.

Once everyone is served, Jungkook’s mind races for a moment as he looks at the elaborate dishes in front of him. He’s unsure where to begin, not used to this kind of extravagant meal. It’s all so foreign to him, but before he can pick up his chopsticks, Yoongi’s father breaks the silence.

"So, what brings you here, Jungkook?" he asks, his deep voice cutting through the air with curiosity. Jungkook swallows his nerves before answering.

"Oh, I’m... I’m here with my girlfriend for her brother’s wedding." he replies politely, hoping his words don’t come out too awkwardly.

"Wedding, huh?" Yoongi chimes in from beside him, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook simply nods in acknowledgment, hoping the conversation will shift.

"So this is your girlfriend’s hometown?" Geumjae asks, his voice calm but probing.

"Yes." Jungkook confirms with a small smile, relieved to stick with the easy part of the conversation. "But damn, dude, when did you get a girlfriend? The last time I remembered, you were afraid to even approach girls in university." Yoongi teases, a smirk on his lips.

Jungkook freezes for a moment, feeling a flush of discomfort rise in his chest. The comment feels casual, but the atmosphere around him is so formal that it catches him off guard. He glances around the table, noticing that everyone is relaxed and waiting for him to answer, as if this were a normal part of their dinner conversation. He takes a breath and tries to steady himself.

"Well... I wasn’t really afraid to approach them." he says, carefully choosing his words. "I just had other things to focus on." He offers a half smile, hoping to deflect the attention.

Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused, but doesn’t push any further. "What did you say her name was again?" he asks, his tone light.

"Oh... it’s Y/n." Jungkook replies, a smile creeping onto his face as he thinks about you. Just saying your name makes him feel warm inside, and he can’t help but let a soft grin escape.

"Y/n?" Yoongi’s mother repeats, her brows furrowing slightly, as though the name is familiar but somehow surprising. Jungkook tilts his head, not fully understanding the change in her tone.

He nods, confirming with a small smile. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name."

The sudden shift in the room is palpable. Yoongi’s mother’s eyes widen, and her voice grows louder, almost demanding. "You mean... Kim Y/n?" she repeats, her tone now sharp, causing everyone at the table to freeze. The clinking of silverware stops as if time itself has paused.

Jungkook blinks in confusion. He can feel the weight of their collective gaze on him, a tension that wasn’t there before. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name." he says, his voice firmer this time, trying to keep his composure. He doesn’t understand why your name is causing such a stir, but he can sense something is off.

"Dude... the Y/n you’re dating is... Kim Y/n?" Yoongi’s voice is incredulous, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He leans back in his chair, almost scoffing in disbelief.

Jungkook’s confusion deepens. He looks at Yoongi, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... yeah? You know her or something?" he asks, still trying to piece together the odd shift in the conversation.

Geumjae chuckles, clearly intrigued. "Who doesn't?" he replies. Jungkook furrows his brows, still lost. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, his voice laced with perplexity.

Before anyone can respond, Yoongi’s mother’s face lights up with a sudden realization. "Wait, wait, wait, so the wedding you're here for... it's... it's Taehyung's, isn’t it? It’s Kim Taehyung’s wedding!" She beams, her expression a mix of surprise and excitement, as if the revelation is the most obvious thing in the world.

Jungkook’s mind races. He’s still trying to connect the dots, but the sheer shock on Yoongi’s mother’s face throws him off balance and he wonders how she knows that information. "How... How do you know that?" he asks, still trying to process everything.

Before anyone can answer, Yoongi shifts in his seat, leaning slightly towards Jungkook, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Dude... do you have any idea.... who your girlfriend is?" Yoongi asks, the question hanging in the air like a bombshell.

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, not understanding the gravity of the situation. His mind struggles to keep up, but he can't seem to make sense of the turn this conversation has taken. "What?" he asks, still confused. "Why... why are you asking me that?"

Yoongi leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if he’s just realized something monumental. "Dude... do you know who 'The Kims' are?? You're dating someone from 'The Kims'. That is literally insane." he states, his voice filled with disbelief.

He looks at Jungkook, half-amused, half-shocked, but when he still notices the utter confusion on his friend's face, his expression softens slightly. Yoongi leans in and places both hands on Jungkook's shoulders, trying to help him process the information.

"Dude, 'The Kims' are one of the most influential families in all of Daegu. Hell, in all of Korea." Yoongi’s voice is filled with a mixture of awe as he continues.

"They own so many companies, it’s insane. From massive real estate ventures, luxury hotels, tech firms, and even a few major pharmaceutical companies, they’re basically untouchable. Every major industry you can think of, 'The Kims' have their fingers in it." He leans back again, his hands still on Jungkook's shoulders, clearly enjoying his friend's stunned reaction.

"And Y/n? She’s a part of that family. I don’t even think you understand how big of a deal that is."

Jungkook’s mind is spinning. He sits there, his thoughts racing, but the words don't seem to connect. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, trying to make sense of everything that’s being said.

His head is still reeling from the idea that the woman he’s been seeing... someone he’s grown to care for so deeply... belongs to such a powerful family. He had never imagined that you, with your down-to-earth nature, would be connected to such wealth and influence.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook’s silence, smirks before continuing, clearly reveling in the shock he’s causing. "If you were shocked just looking at the estate I live in, wait until you see the kind of place Y/n lives in."

His voice lowers slightly, his tone growing more serious, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. "Her family’s mansion? It’s like something out of a movie. It’s not like any place you’ve ever seen before. We're talking private security, a sprawling garden, a real private estate. It's on a whole other level."

Jungkook feels his stomach tighten as he tries to digest what Yoongi’s saying. He can’t even fathom how he didn’t know this before, how he had no clue that something about your life was so different from anything he had known.

The thought of you being part of this world, a world so far removed from his own, leaves him just sitting there, not knowing what to do with this newfound information.

part 2 ->

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Future In Our Hands

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (fingering—p giving, morning sex)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: well… that’s it. my first baby all grown up. i actually cannot believe it’s over yall, genuinely. i love all of you so much, i love dani so much, i love dani and paige so much—like how’re we supposed to say goodbye…. anyways thank you all for your support on this fic, take me to church will always, always have a special place in my heart. ALSO! i’m planing to write an epilogue, so i want you guys to send in some ideas of what you might wanna see in that!! i love you all so much, onto the next 🫡

JUST LIKE DANI thought they’d be, things are different now—but also so much better. After leaving her father’s house, she stayed with the Bueckers for a few weeks. They were kind, welcoming, and unwaveringly supportive, but Dani knew it couldn’t last forever. Paige’s family has their own lives, and—no matter how much they told her she wasn’t—Dani didn’t want to intrude. So when her Aunt Julia offered her a place, Dani accepted, moving into her aunt’s modest apartment just outside the city.

It’s been over a month now, and things are good—really good. Julia and Dani have grown close, almost like they’re making up for lost time. Dani feels lighter in this space, unburdened by judgment or fear. And then there’s Grey, Julia’s son. The baby has taken to Dani in a way that’s mutual and immediate; his face lights up every time she walks into the room, and Dani finds herself softening in his presence in ways she never thought possible. For the first time in years, she feels like she belongs somewhere.

The alarm on Dani’s phone blares, slicing through the comfortable silence of her new bedroom. She groans, reaching blindly to shut it off, and Paige groans along with her. Dani’s hand finds the phone, and she presses the button with more force than necessary, silencing the obnoxious buzz. The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t last long.

Behind her, Paige stirs, nuzzling closer until her face is buried against Dani’s neck. Her arms tighten around Dani’s waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of Dani’s sweatshirt to rest warm and solid against her bare stomach.

Dani lets out a breath, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breathing against her skin. “We gotta get up,” she murmurs, though the words lack any real urgency.

Paige responds by shaking her head, her voice muffled. “Noooo. Just a few more minutes.”

Dani huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. “P…”

But before she can say more, Paige groans dramatically and shifts her weight, rolling fully on top of Dani. She’s warm, all long limbs and lazy strength, her hands sliding up Dani’s sides as she tucks her face against Dani’s neck again. Her lips brush against the sensitive skin there, leaving soft, barely-there kisses that make Dani’s heart stumble in her chest.

Dani sighs, her hands coming up to rest on Paige’s hips. “Paige, we’re graduating in a couple hours.”

Paige makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, finally lifting her head to look down at Dani. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, but she’s smiling in that lopsided way that always makes Dani’s stomach flip.

“What time is it?” Paige asks, her voice scratchy and low.

“9:30,” Dani says, trying to keep her tone firm.

Paige scoffs. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til 11:30. We got time.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige leans down, her lips brushing against Dani’s in a kiss that’s soft and lingering at first. Dani melts into it instinctively, her hands sliding up Paige’s back, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.

The kiss deepens, shedding its softness in favor of something needier, hungrier. Dani feels Paige’s weight pressing down on her, grounding her in the moment, the exhaustion they’d both been clinging to dissipating like mist under the heat building between them. Paige tilts her head to angle the kiss just right, her lips sliding against Dani’s with purpose. There’s nothing rushed about it, but there’s an urgency to the way Paige grips Dani’s waist, her fingers splaying against bare skin like she’s memorizing the shape of her.

And then Paige shifts her hips just so, grinding down in a way that steals the breath from Dani’s lungs. Dani gasps against Paige’s lips, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders, and she feels rather than hears the soft hum of satisfaction Paige makes in response.

It’s just enough to spark something deep inside her, enough for her body to react instinctively. Dani’s hips buck up to meet Paige’s, the friction making her head spin, and before she knows it, her arms are around Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige adjusts, settling fully between Dani’s legs, her weight a warm and steady pressure that has Dani’s pulse thrumming wildly.

The hand Paige had been using to grip Dani’s waist slides up, her palm skimming the curve of Dani’s side and brushing just under the swell of her chest. It’s light, barely there, but it sends a shiver coursing through Dani all the same. Paige feels it—of course she does—and her lips curl into a smirk against Dani’s mouth before she dips her head to trail kisses along Dani’s jaw, her breath hot against sensitive skin.

“P…” Dani breathes, her voice shaky.

Paige doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Her lips press against the spot just below Dani’s ear, lingering long enough to make Dani squirm beneath her. “Hmm?” Paige hums, her tone teasing, almost lazy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Dani.

“Paige,” Dani tries again, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in Paige’s messy blonde hair. She tugs lightly, just enough to make Paige lift her head and meet her gaze. Paige’s eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown wide, and the sight sends another jolt of heat through Dani.

“We’re—” Dani swallows hard, trying to focus, but it’s almost impossible with Paige looking at her like that, with Paige’s hand still skimming her side, her hips still pressed so perfectly against Dani’s. “We’re gonna be late,” she manages, though it comes out far weaker than she intended.

Paige grins, the kind of grin that’s all mischief and affection rolled into one. “We got time,” she says, her voice low and certain. And then she’s insistently reconnecting their mouths, lips sliding together perfectly, teeth clashing just slightly. Dani’s eyes flutter shut as she continues kissing the blonde, feeling Paige’s hands begin to trail downward. They slide along Dani’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her skin, almost teasing. It makes Dani squirm a little until Paige’s fingers brush along the waistband of the pair of Paige’s basketball shorts Dani wore to bed.

Without Paige even asking anything, Dani’s nodding against her, hips shifting. They’re on a time crunch, so if they’re gonna do this, they gotta do it fast. Paige grins against Dani’s lips—probably at her eagerness—before sliding her fingers under the shorts and Dani’s panties in one go.

Dani gasps just slightly as Paige’s fingers reach for her clit, the blonde humming against her lips as she begins to circle the bud. Paige’s mouth disconnects from Dani’s, her lips skimming over her jawline and along her neck. “Mmm,” she hums against Dani’s ear. “So wet, Dan.”

Dani feels her cheeks heat at the words, heat flushing through her face down to her core. She whimpers a little at Paige’s slow circling of her clit, bucking her hips enough to let her know she needs more. Paige understands immediately, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside Dani, the slickness of her making the motion almost effortless. The sound that follows is, indeed, sinful—the obscene wet noises filling the otherwise quiet room, making Dani’s stomach tighten with a renewed wave of arousal.

Paige groans a little, pulling back from Dani’s neck. She grabs at the brunette’s shorts with her free hand, pushing them down so she can see her fingers working, eyes locking onto her digits moving in and out of Dani’s cunt and the way Dani’s body arches up into her. Dani watches Paige watch, catching the blonde bite her lip, eyes almost glazing over as her fingers slide inside Dani.

It makes Dani whimper, her hips instinctively pushing back against Paige’s fingers. “Mmph… please…” she mumbles, not really sure what she’s begging for, but the need in her tone seems to spur Paige on.

Paige responds immediately, thrusting her fingers deeper, curling them just enough to hit that spongy spot inside Dani that makes her gasp loudly. Dani feels Paige’s free hand move back up her body, under her sweatshirt to squeeze at her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Paige’s lips find Dani’s neck again, too, biting down lightly before sucking a mark into her skin.

Dani cries out a little at the sensation, her body trembling as the pleasure begins to overwhelm her. “God, P,” she moans, voice ragged.

She feels Paige grin against her neck once more, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles back on her clit. “Like that?” Paige whispers, breath hot against Dani’s skin.

Dani just nods, her breath hitching as she struggles to respond. “Yeah,” she finally manages to gasp out, her hips moving in time with Paige’s fingers. “Just like that.”

Dani bites down onto her lip hard, probably enough to draw blood, keeping herself in check because she has absolutely no interest in her aunt hearing her moan Paige’s name. Paige’s fingers are just relentless as they thrust in and out, the wet sounds between them growing louder and more obscene with every second. Dani feels Paige moan against her neck and that, along with the curling of Paige’s fingers, has Dani’s brows furrowing together, eyes scrunching closed, her whole body tightening.

“’M close,” Dani whimpers breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as her nails dig into Paige’s back.

Dani feels Paige’s fingers press even harder at her words, scissoring inside her, angling them just right. “Come on, Dan,” Paige encourages. “Wanna feel it.”

That‘a all it seems to take. With a muffled moan, Dani’s body goes taut, her muscles contracting around Paige’s fingers as she cums hard, her hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over her. Paige holds her tightly, her fingers slowing just enough to guide Dani through her orgasm, her lips still pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, her body finally going limp as she collapses back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

Paige smirks down at her, slipping her fingers out. Paige presses a gentle kiss to Dani’s jaw, then her lips, then her nose, then the spot between her eyebrows before pulling back so she’s eye-to-eye with the girl. “Now it’s time to get up,” she says, cheesing.

Dani rolls her eyes, slapping at Paige’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”

THE FINAL APPLAUSE feels like it echoes forever, reverberating around the crowded football field. Dani sits there in the plastic chair, the edges of the graduation gown stiff against her arms, her cap threatening to slip off her head. She doesn’t move. Around her, classmates are already standing, hugging, and tossing their caps into the air, but Dani feels rooted in place.

It’s over.

Her childhood—whatever was left of it—has officially ended.

That’s the only thought looping in her head. The years she spent on cramped bleachers, in loud cafeterias, on basketball courts that smelled like old wood and sweat—all of it is behind her now. Her chest feels heavy with something she can’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Fear? She shakes it off and stands, taking a deep breath that doesn’t fill her lungs the way she wants it to.

When the crowd begins to disperse, she finally spots Paige a few rows over, standing tall and blonde and unmistakable in her blue gown. Thaliah is next to her, smirking as she bats Paige’s hands away from the crooked cap on her head. Dani weaves through the sea of gowns, her own steps feeling distant and mechanical. But when she reaches them, her grin comes naturally.

“Look at us,” Thaliah says, throwing her arms around both Dani and Paige, drawing them into a three-person hug. Her grin is wide. “All grown up!”

Dani chuckles, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Finally free,” she agrees, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Thaliah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, free to do what? Work? Be an adult? Ugh.”

Dani doesn’t answer because her eyes are drawn to Paige, who’s blinking quickly, her lashes wet. Dani’s smile softens as she takes in the way Paige’s lower lip wobbles just slightly before she sucks it between her teeth.

“Aww, babe,” Dani says, her voice teasing but fond. She steps closer, brushing her thumb under Paige’s eye to catch a tear before it can fall.

“I’m not crying,” Paige says immediately, sniffing and straightening her shoulders like she can will the emotion away.

“You’re totally crying,” Thaliah chimes in, her grin wicked. “Somebody get a camera!”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I ain’t crying!”

“You are,” Dani teases, her hand lingering against Paige’s cheek before letting it fall back to her side.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with a twitch of a smile.

The three of them laugh then, the kind of laughter that feels bigger than the moment. It’s a release, a shared acknowledgment of everything they’ve been through together and everything that’s ahead of them. Dani lets it wash over her, lets herself feel the warmth of it as they shuffle out into the packed hallway.

The noise is overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera flashes and the occasional squeal from someone who’s just spotted their family. Dani’s chest tightens briefly, but she shakes it off. This is supposed to be a happy day. She forces herself to focus on the here and now.

“Alright, I’m off,” Thaliah announces, clapping them both on the shoulder. “If I don’t get to my mom soon, she’s gonna start yelling my full name in front of everyone, and we can’t have that.” She gives the pair one last grin before disappearing through the crowd.

Paige stays close as they navigate through the throng of people, her hand brushing Dani’s back as they walk. Dani can feel the slight tremor in Paige’s energy, the kind that only comes when Paige is overwhelmed, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she nudges Paige gently with her elbow, and Paige gives her a grateful smile.

They find Paige’s family first. Her mom is the first person Dani notices, standing near the bleachers with a wide smile and arms open. Lauren, Ryan, and Drew are bouncing on their toes, waving furiously when they spot Paige. Bob is chatting animatedly with Paige’s grandparents, and her aunt is juggling a camera and a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.

“Paige!” Lauren squeals, launching herself at her older sister the second she’s within reach. Paige laughs, catching her and spinning her around before setting her down. Ryan and Drew both aren’t far behind, wrapping their arms around Paige’s waist and clinging like a little koalas.

Dani watches it all unfold, a small smile tugging at her lips. It’s a lot, seeing all of them there, so many people who love Paige and want to celebrate her. A small pang settles in her chest, but she pushes it aside quickly.

She doesn’t have to look far for her own family. Julia is standing just a few feet away, holding baby Grey on her hip, her smile soft and full of pride. Dani’s grandparents are beside her, their expressions warm and welcoming. It’s quieter, simpler, but no less meaningful.

Julia’s arms are open before Dani even realizes she’s moving, and she steps into the hug, letting herself sink into the familiarity of it. “I’m so proud of you, Dani,” Julia whispers into her ear, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hit harder than Dani expects, her throat tightening as she blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She pulls back after a moment, forcing a smile as she meets Julia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

Grey babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Dani with chubby hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she takes him into her arms. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, bouncing him slightly. He giggles, his tiny hands grabbing at the tassel on her cap.

Her grandparents step forward next, wrapping her in hugs that smell like lavender and old books, murmuring their congratulations with quiet pride. Dani’s smile feels a little steadier now, a little more natural.

It’s not perfect. It’s not what she used to imagine this day would look like. There’s an emptiness where her parents should be, a hollow ache she tries not to focus on. But looking at Julia’s warm smile, Grey’s wide eyes, and her grandparents’ unwavering support, she decides it’s enough.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Dani turns to find Bob, Paige’s dad, leaning in for a hug. His grin is kind and effortless, the kind that makes Dani feel seen, like she belongs. She melts into the embrace, letting him clap her on the back as she smiles against his shoulder.

“Look at you!” he exclaims as they pull back. “High school graduate. You’ve done good, Dan.”

Her grin widens. Bob’s probably the closest thing she has to a dad these days, and she’s grateful for how steady he’s always been, how he’s never made her feel out of place. “Thanks, Bob.”

Before she can say more, Amy swoops in, wrapping Dani in a tight hug that smells like fresh laundry and perfume. “Aw, Dani, all grown up!” Amy squeals, pulling back to hold Dani by the shoulders and give her a good once-over. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Dani laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t cry, Amy. Paige’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Amy laughs, her hands squeezing Dani’s shoulders briefly before she lets go. “No promises.”

Dani makes her way down the line, crouching slightly to hug Paige’s little siblings. Lauren and Ryan and Drew all beam at her, their arms wrapping around her tightly. Drew leans into her side, his small voice eager as he says, “You’re coming to the cookout after, right?”

“Of course,” Dani says, ruffling his hair before pulling Lauren in for a quick squeeze. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

When she stands, she feels a hand slide into hers, warm and familiar. Paige is there, her blue eyes soft as she looks at Dani, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay,” Amy says suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s directing a photoshoot. “I need pictures!”

Paige groans, loud and exaggerated, her head tilting back like this is the most torturous request in the world. “Mom, come on—”

“No complaints!” Amy cuts her off, already holding up her phone. “This is a big day! Paige, Dani, come on.”

Paige rolls her eyes but grins as she tugs Dani closer by the hand. Dani follows easily, letting Paige guide her until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. Paige’s arm wraps around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Dani’s hip, and Dani lets her own hand settle comfortably against Paige’s back. They tilt their heads together instinctively, their smiles wide and natural as the first flash goes off.

One photo turns into three, then four, and Dani quickly loses track of how many cameras are aimed at them. Both of Paige’s parents are taking pictures, as are their grandparents, Julia, and Paige’s aunt. It feels like every angle is covered, and Dani doesn’t even know where to look at this point.

“Oh, wait, wait!” Julia exclaims suddenly, waving her free hand while balancing Grey on her hip. “Take one showing the caps!”

Dani and Paige both blink at her, confused for a moment before they realize what she means. “Oh!” Paige says, reaching up to tug her cap off. “Yeah, yeah.”

Dani does the same, pulling her cap off and holding it in her hands. When she glances over at Paige, she can’t help but laugh. “Ooh, cap head,” she teases, nodding toward Paige’s hair, which is flattened awkwardly where the cap had been.

Paige narrows her eyes at her, a mock glare that doesn’t last long. “Fix it.”

“Please,” Dani corrects, smirking as she leans in to do just that—fix the mess. Her fingers comb through the strands of blonde until Paige’s hair looks normal again. Paige huffs but doesn’t pull away, her lips twitching upward in the smallest smile.

When Dani’s satisfied, she steps back, only to feel Paige’s hand brushing against her own hair. “Hang on,” Paige mutters, her fingers quick and sure as they smooth out Dani’s own cap-induced disaster.

Once they’ve both deemed each other photo-ready, they angle their caps toward the cameras, holding them up so the bedazzled designs are clearly visible. UConn logos sparkle under the sun, the rhinestones they painstakingly glued on last night catching every flash.

“Go Huskies!” Amy cheers from behind the phone, her voice bright with pride as the camera clicks again.

Dani feels her grin stretch impossibly wider. In that moment, she forgets about the ache in her chest, the absence of her parents, the uncertainty of the future. All she feels is this—Paige’s arm warm around her waist, their friends and family laughing and cheering, and the glimmer of the UConn logos they’ll carry with them into the next chapter of their lives.

THE NIGHT feels heavy in the best way—cool air brushing against Paige’s skin, her hoodie soft against her arms, and the low hum of cicadas filling the spaces between quiet laughter. It’s dark now, the kind of dark that stretches across the park like a blanket, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlamp by the parking lot and the stars above. The four of them—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen—are settled into their usual spots at the park they’ve claimed since what feels like forever. The basketball court has cracks they know like the backs of their hands, the picnic table has their initials carved into the wood, and everything about it feels like home.

Paige leans against the basketball hoop, dribbling lazily as Jalen sets up for a halfhearted shot. He misses—terribly—and Paige laughs, grabbing the rebound and tossing the ball back to him. “Bro,” she teases, “you might need to rethink that NBA dream.”

Jalen points at her, mock offended. “You laugh now, but when I’m in the league, you’re not getting courtside tickets.”

“Good,” Paige fires back with a grin. “I’ll be too busy winning nattys at UConn anyway.”

The words feel easy, automatic, but they carry a weight she’s only just starting to realize. UConn. Storrs. It’s been this abstract, glittering thing for so long, but now it’s real—a fresh start, a new chapter. Summer sessions start in just a couple weeks. Basketball in the basketball capital of the world. And Dani. Dani will be there too.

She glances toward the picnic table, where Dani’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Thaliah, both of them half-focused on Thaliah’s phone. Milkshakes sit abandoned on the table, sweating in the humid air, and Dani’s curled hair falls into her face as she leans closer to the screen. Paige watches her for a moment, her grin softening into something quieter.

“Aye,” Jalen says, nudging Paige with his elbow and smirking a little. “You good?”

“Hm?” Paige blinks, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.” She spins the basketball once, catching it easily. “Just thinking about how much better I am than you.”

Jalen groans. “Aight, thin ice, Bueckers.”

Paige laughs, tossing the ball his way before walking toward the table, her curiosity piqued by whatever has Dani and Thaliah so engrossed. She hops up onto the bench beside Dani, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What’s so fascinating?”

Thaliah glances up briefly, holding her phone out so Paige can see. “My roommate at UCLA,” she says, scrolling through an Instagram profile of a girl with tanned skin and lots of beach photos. “She’s already from Cali, so.”

“Hmm,” Paige hums, tilting her head as she studies the photos. “She seems chill.”

“I think so too,” Dani agrees.

Thaliah nods. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’ve been texting. She’s into film, which gives us somethin’ in common, and she’s already invited me to a festival this fall. I think we’re gonna get along.”

Paige nods at the words before watching Dani groan dramatically, leaning her head against Thaliah’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be in sunny LA while I’m stuck in Storrs with this creature.” She gestures lazily in Paige’s direction without looking up.

“Aye!” Paige exclaims, feigning offense. She ruffles Dani’s curls lightly, earning an indignant squawk. “Watch that mouth.”

Dani swats at Paige’s hand but grins, leaning back in her seat, humming, “Mhm.”

Paige smirks. “It’ll be fun, you know it.”

“Debatable,” Dani shoots back, but there’s a warmth in her tone that makes Paige’s chest feel strangely tight.

Jalen finally joins them, the basketball tucked under one arm. He stands behind them, leaning over to try and get a glimpse. “What’re we looking at?”

“My future roomie,” Thaliah says, holding up her phone again.

Jalen squints at the screen, then nods approvingly. “Damn. She fine.”

Dani bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her milkshake as Thaliah groans and mutters something about boys being predictable. Paige just shakes her head, leaning back on the bench and letting the easy rhythm of their banter wash over her. It’s moments like this, she thinks, that she’s going to miss most.

But then Dani’s hand brushes against hers, her fingers curling briefly around Paige’s, and she thinks maybe she doesn’t have to miss it. Not really. Not when Dani’s right here, and when tomorrow, and every day after, will start with both of them heading toward the same place. Together.

Jalen’s phone buzzes on the bench, the screen lighting up with a notification. Paige notices it before he does and glances over, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he picks it up and reads the message. “Ah, man,” he says, standing and shoving the phone into his pocket. “My mom’s tellin’ me to get home. Graduation tomorrow and all.”

Thaliah stretches, groaning a little as she stands. “Guess I’m out too, then. He’s my ride.”

Paige frowns, tilting her head at them. “Wow, ditching us already?”

Thaliah smirks as she grabs her jacket. “Hey, not all of us can be completely irresponsible. Some of us have families that enforce things like curfews and sleep schedules.”

“Lame,” Paige teases, but she stands to hug Jalen, patting him on the back. “Congrats ahead of time, though. Have fun tomorrow.”

Jalen grins, hugging her back.

Thaliah waves as they head toward the parking lot, leaving Paige and Dani alone on the weathered wooden bench. The night feels quieter now, though not uncomfortable—just different. The cicadas hum in the trees, and the faint smell of grass and pavement lingers in the air. Paige lets herself enjoy the moment for a second, her gaze drifting over to Dani.

Dani sits quietly, staring out at the court, her expression unreadable. It’s the kind of stillness Dani falls into sometimes, where Paige knows she’s in her head about something but won’t say what.

Paige stands, grabbing the basketball from beside her and turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels familiar and grounding. “Play with me?”

Dani turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Play with me,” Paige repeats, her tone lighter, teasing. She bounces the ball once against the ground for emphasis.

Dani snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Paige grins, holding the ball against her hip.

“Uh-uh,” Dani protests, shaking her head. “We both know how that’ll end.”

“And?” Paige arches a brow.

Dani doesn’t move, her expression skeptical. Paige rolls her eyes, stepping closer and grabbing Dani’s hand, tugging her to her feet. Dani resists for about half a second before giving in with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Dani mutters.

“Yep.” Paige leads her toward the court, the basketball bouncing lightly in her other hand.

Once they’re on the court, Paige dribbles a couple of times before passing the ball to Dani. “1v1,” she says, her voice challenging.

Dani catches the ball awkwardly, holding it for a moment as she stares at Paige. “This is stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. “We both know who’s gonna win.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige replies, dropping into a defensive stance. “C’mon. Play.”

With a small shake of her head, Dani starts to dribble—slowly, clumsily. The ball bounces unevenly against the pavement, and Paige bites back a laugh. She gives Dani a few seconds before darting in to steal the ball.

Dani yelps and pulls the ball to her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around it like it’s a lifeline.

“That is illegal!” Paige exclaims, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.

“Then quit tryna take it from me!” Dani fires back, her voice half-laughing, half-exasperated as she shifts away from Paige.

Paige grins, circling around Dani like a shark. “Aight, fine. If you wanna be like that, we can be like that.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige lunges, trying to pry the ball free. When that doesn’t work, her fingers find their way to Dani’s ribs, tickling mercilessly.

Dani shrieks, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably. “Paige! Stop!” she yells, twisting and turning to escape, but Paige keeps going, grinning against her ear.

“This… is… definitely… a… foul!” Dani manages between gasps, her laughter growing louder as her grip on the ball falters.

“Don’t care,” Paige replies, her voice smug as she tickles harder. Dani’s back presses into Paige’s chest as she struggles, her legs wobbling beneath her.

Paige spins the brunette around, her fingers relentless against Dani’s ribs, tickling so hard that Dani’s squealing, “Paige!” nearly collapsing under the weight of her laughter.

Finally, Paige relents, stepping back as the basketball slips from Dani’s grasp and rolls across the court. Dani leans against Paige, panting and giggling, her forehead pressing lightly into Paige’s chest.

“I hate you,” Dani mutters breathlessly, swatting weakly at Paige’s hoodie.

Paige just grins, her hands settling on Dani’s hips. “Nah, you don’t.”

Dani pulls back slightly, glaring up at her with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replies, her voice softer now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. Paige’s grin widens, her hand sliding upward to cup Dani’s jaw. Her thumb brushes lightly against Dani’s cheek as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon, Dan, you don’t hate me.”

Dani rolls her eyes, relenting. Paige thinks she hears her breath catch. “No, I don’t.”

And then Paige tilts her head, her lips brushing against Dani’s, soft at first, as if feeling the rhythm of the moment. But then, the hesitation fades. Paige presses forward, coaxing Dani’s lips to part, and with a quiet, deep inhale, her tongue slips into Dani’s mouth.

Paige feels Dani’s mouth opening slightly more, a sigh escaping her lips. She shifts closer, hands sliding down from Paige’s chest to her sides, pulling them tighter together, the warmth of her body mingling with Paige’s. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing slightly.

Paige’s hand on Dani’s hip trails downward, fingers slipping, finding purchase on the curve of her ass. She squeezes lightly, feeling the taut muscle beneath her fingertips, and that small movement has Dani grinning against her lips, the playful smirk against Paige’s mouth making Paige’s stomach flip.

Paige lets out a soft laugh through the kiss, a breathless sound, but she doesn’t pull away. She deepens the kiss instead, her fingers pressing a little harder, pulling Dani closer still. It’s like a slow burn, the way their bodies are melting together, hot and heavy but not frantic.

Paige takes her time. She lets her lips linger, firm but careful, savoring the way Dani responds. There’s a heat between them, an energy that buzzes under Paige’s skin, but she reins it in, keeps it simmering just beneath the surface. This moment isn’t about rushing forward—it’s about Dani, about the way she fits so perfectly in Paige’s hands, the way her lips feel impossibly soft and warm, the way she melts into the kiss.

Dani shifts slightly, her hands sliding up from Paige’s chest to loop around her neck. It pulls Paige down further, and she lets it happen, leaning into the touch, into Dani. The kiss slows for a beat, their lips brushing more gently now, like the initial spark has given way to something softer, something steadier.

Paige pulls back just an inch, her forehead resting against Dani’s. She opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of Dani—her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded and searching—nearly takes her breath away.

“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and a little unsteady.

Dani blinks up at her, her fingers still playing lightly with the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she looks at Paige—like she’s seeing her for the first time and yet has always known her—says everything.

Paige feels her phone buzz against her skin, the vibration pulling her reluctantly out of the moment, out of Dani’s warmth. She lets out a soft breath of frustration, but she’s still not ready to fully pull away. Her hand stays on Dani’s ass, fingers tracing the curve of her hip in a way that keeps their bodies pressed together.

She pulls the phone from her pocket with a sigh, glancing at the screen, but the feeling of Dani still so close, so tangible, is enough to make her hold on just a moment longer. It’s a message from her dad asking if she and Dani want to come back and watch a movie with Drew, Ryan, and Lauren.

She shifts the phone to face Dani, letting her read it for herself. The light from the screen illuminates their faces, casting soft shadows across Dani’s features. For a second, Paige just looks at her, at the way Dani’s brow furrows slightly in thought as she processes the message, and then the way her lips curve into that familiar smile that always does something to Paige’s chest.

“You wanna?” Paige asks quietly, her voice soft but steady, letting Dani know she’s willing to go along with whatever she decides.

Dani looks at the message and then up at Paige, smiling just a little—like the smallest of secrets are being shared. She nods, and that small gesture makes Paige’s heart skip just a little.

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s chest tighten with affection. “Let’s go.”

Paige smiles back, the warmth spreading in her chest, and presses one last kiss to the corner of Dani’s mouth. It’s soft, lingering for a second longer than it probably should, but Paige can’t help it. She can’t help but savor the taste of Dani, the way her lips feel like home. It’s like everything before this—before the arguing, before the space between them, before all the pain—has led to this.

This moment. This kiss. And everything that comes after it.

When she pulls back just a fraction, still feeling the heat of Dani’s skin under her hands, Paige wraps her arm around Dani’s waist and guides them back toward the picnic table. Her fingers graze the soft curve of Dani’s waist, a quiet gesture of possession, of love, of a future they haven’t yet fully realized but are starting to piece together.

They collect their milkshakes, Paige grabbing both cups, offering Dani her Oreo one, who takes it with a grateful, quiet smile, and they walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step. They don’t say much, the silence between them comfortable, an unspoken understanding that fills the space where words aren’t needed. There’s no pressure, no rush, just the steady rhythm of their footsteps as they head back.

Side by side, they walk back to Paige’s house, their bodies pressed close enough that the warmth between them is constant, never faltering. Neither of them speaks much, but the air between them feels thick with the weight of it all—the unspoken words, the shared memories, the connection that neither of them can deny anymore. They walk in sync, like they’ve always been meant to, and Paige finds that she doesn’t need words to fill the space.

The familiar sights of their neighborhood pass by, the houses and the trees, the sound of their feet on the pavement, the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. They pass Dani’s dad’s house, and neither of them looks at it. Paige’s mind briefly flickers to that house, to the past, to the pain that had lingered there for so long, but it’s all behind them now. That part of their lives is a closed door, and neither of them needs to open it again.

They reach the front door of Paige’s house, and Paige can’t help but glance at Dani as she opens it. The door opens with a soft creak, and for a brief moment, Paige holds the door open with one hand while she rests her forehead against Dani’s. It’s a simple thing, but there’s something about it, something about the way Dani’s body fits against hers, something about the softness of her skin under Paige’s touch that makes it all feel like it’s meant to be.

And in that moment, Paige knows, without a doubt, that everything before this was just the beginning. Because this—this is their forever.

Then, Lauren calls for them both from inside, telling their names. Dani grins up at Paige, murmuring, “C’mon,” pulling her inside.

And as they step inside the house, with their hands still intertwined, the door closes softly behind them, sealing shut their childhoods, their high school days, and all the ups and downs that surrounded them. The future’s wide open, and Paige and Dani are ready to take that step into it.

[chronicsyd]

I'm gonna be so serious, y'all are remembering POWDER and Ekko and not JINX and Ekko when screaming about how much you "wanted Timebomb endgame over Caitvi"

shoving JINX in a relationship with her current mental state is not a good writing choice whatsoever, because Ekko literally had to keep rewinding time because she kept trying to kill herself. If Anything, That relationship would be rushed and fanservice because they would have jumped the gun in 2 episodes vs the 2 seasons it took for Caitvi and showing their ups and downs throughout their whole relationship.

The alternate universe works because Powder doesn't become Jinx and the two don't separate, unlike this universe where the two have been at odds for 7 years and almost kill each other back in Ep 7 of S1.

"But Cait never said sorry!" she didn't really have to, because Vi never stopped being in love with the girl that she Knows Cait is at heart, the Cocktail Molotov scene in Act 2 makes that VERY apparent. Cait saying that she was waiting for Vi to recover to address Jinx is the start of it because Act 1 Cait wouldn't have even Considered doing that, because she was so gung-ho about putting a bullet into Jinx that she Demanded Vi move out of the way for her to do so. She holds herself accountable with the mistakes she's made ("We can't erase our mistakes. None of us." that wasn't just a line targeted at Jinx to prove a point, there's deeper meaning behind it), and moving the guards out of the cell proving that she trusts Vi and her judgment on Jinx is that apology, Caitlyn has always been an "acts of service" kinda person over being a "verbal" kinda person; it's all over the place in S1 but Especially here in S2. But even after she takes Vi's shirt off, you could tell by her eyes and body language that she was most likely going to stop herself again to apologize for hitting her because the wound was in the same spot she initially hit, which was part of the lead up for This wound to even happen, but Vi's the one that just pulls her back in instead.

I'm also gonna add on that Vi thinks she made the wrong choice in trusting Jinx and thinking Jinx's changed because Jinx locked her in the cell and ran away again. So why in the Hell would Vi go chasing after her Again to be met with the same result time and time again? Vi isn't responsible for Jinx's mental health and y'all saying that are just weird. And I think it's apparent that Stillwater probably wasn't even in the top 10 things in her head being with Caitlyn, she was just running wild on emotions that she hasn't allowed herself to feel like-- Ever. And even if it Was Vi probably would have said she wasn't comfortable being in a jail cell of all places.

What was I talking about? Oh right, Timebomb.

Like Yes, it's shitty that Ekko doesn't get a happy ending considering he's the most unproblematic in the entire show. But people tend to forget that at the end of the day, Arcane is a TRADGEDY. It's not She-ra, it's not The Owl House, it wasn't going to be wrapped up in a neat little bow where everyone gets to smile and walk into the sunset with their loved ones, especially considering the fact that this season's being used as build ups to other stories, it's relatively clear that this isn't the last we're going to see of a lot of these characters. When they come back into play? well... who's to say?

But also, let's address that a lot of the Caitvi hate is just straight up homophobia at this point because a lot of people can understand Mel's admission to manipulating Jayce as an apology but Cait's actions we're suddenly braindead and need shit completely spelled out. like good lord I'm so tired of this. Y'all would NEVER have survived Catradora let me tell ya...

(My next post is gonna be a long winded rant about Maddie so stay tuned for that...)

[sapphiresaphics]

I don’t know how people keep coming up with the worst takes on things, but here we are.

You wanna be logical about this? Okay fine.

Jinx locked her in the cell. She can’t get out. Even if she thinks she’s going to commit suicide, there’s nothing she can do about it. She’s locked in the cell. We don’t know how long it is before Caitlyn shows up. Could’ve been hours. There’s a war about to happen. No amount of hunting for Jinx is going to stop that. She doesn’t know where Jinx’s hideout is anyway. The chances of her FINDING her sister is slim to none now. Also, this is a prison. There are guards everywhere. Even if Jinx tries to leave, she’s likely going to get caught again and just thrown back into another cell. And even if she escapes, the possibilities are extremely low Vi will ever be able to find her and… need I remind you… a war is on the way. She’s got maybe a few hours at best before it gets here and kills everyone. She’s betrayed Caitlyn’s trust and lost her sister and she’s stuck in the cell. There’s nothing left for her.

So when Caitlyn comes in and tells her she expected to find her there and informs her that no, actually, she let her sister go and didn’t try to kill her or lock her back up and is letting go of the anger Jinx has had on her mind and that it’s okay that she tried to free her sister, Vi snaps. Because in that moment the ONLY person she has left is Caitlyn. And Caitlyn, the woman who’s been trying to kill her sister and broke up with her because Vi wouldn’t kill her sister, just informed her that she’s letting her sister go free. Which at the end of the day is all Vi really wanted.

And frankly I don’t think Vi really understands how devastated Jinx is. She comes in begging her sister to join up and fight and using her explosive potential to help out in the upcoming battle. She’s thinking of how this fight is going to get hundreds of people killed and she’s trying to build her sister up. From her point of view Jinx just needs a hug and to be told she’s special, because no matter how hard vi tries she’s always going to see Jinx as Powder. And while she has good intentions, this is NOT what Jinx needs to hear right now. Jinx is grieving and Vi is begging her to blow more shit up.

I am SO FUCKING DONE with people like you going “oh logically why wouldn’t she be trying to stop her sister from committing suicide? Why would she just fuck in a cell?! It’s such awkward timing! What bad writing!” Because you guys never stop and think about the character’s motivations.

YOU know jinx is suicidal. YOU know she is not doing well. But Vi doesn’t. Vi is blinded by Powder. She still doesn’t see Jinx or understand what Jinx has gone through. The idea that her sister is suicidal doesn’t even cross her mind. That fight in the tomb? Just her being crazy again. Jinx being theatrical again. Nothing new.

Fucking hell… that’s WHY Jinx locks her in the cell. Because even after everything they’ve gone through, she still sees her as powder. The “you’re never going to give up on me are you?” line is Jinx realizing that Vi will never truly see her as Jinx. That’s WHY she locks Vi in the cell. Because Jinx needs to leave this endless cycle and let Vi be able to move on. That’s why she tells her she doesn’t need to worry about her anymore or feel guilty and that she deserves to be happy with Caitlyn.

So yeah, they fuck in the cell because in that moment, Vi has lost everything. She doesn’t know if Jinx is alive or dead, she doesn’t know if she can find her before the war hits and potentially kills everyone and herself, and she’s gone behind Caitlyn’s back to release Jinx. She’s at her lowest point, with no time to do anything productive, and the girl of her dreams just informed her that it’s okay she betrayed her because she’s so god damn predictable and that’s something she loves about Vi, and that she’s letting her hatred of Jinx go. This is Caitlyn confirming to Vi that is was okay for her to love her sister that much. The one thing Vi has been repeatedly told by everyone around her she can’t do.

So this is VI’s emotions EXPLODING at the thought she still has one thing good left in her life. And she is going to take it NOW because this tension has been building and building for such a long time it NEEDS RELEASE. In that moment there’s no logic. No thought to the real world or what could be. It is pure emotional INSTINCT. Caitlyn has offered herself up on a silver platter and she is going to EAT.

The amount of effort you guys put into trying to misunderstand the characters, the scenes, and the intention behind the dialogue is ASTOUNDING. You should be awarded a medal for being so mind numbingly REDUCTIVE in your “criticisms.”

saw these comments on an edit on tt and they really made me stop and rethink for a second, especially the second comment ...

[covenofagatha]

Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her. 

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch. 

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town. 

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more. 

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed. 

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps. 

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?” 

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.” 

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!” 

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.” 

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?” 

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it. 

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily. 

“You never come,” you whine. 

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small. 

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap. 

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.” 

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm. 

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her. 

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month. 

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table. 

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd. 

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar. 

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?” 

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.” 

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman. 

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?” 

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.” 

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?” 

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter. 

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now. 

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday. 

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile. 

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them. 

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open. 

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming. 

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off. 

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.” 

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar. 

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway. 

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.” 

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely. 

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are. 

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you. 

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.” 

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.” 

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference. 

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs. 

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash. 

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess. 

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief. 

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?” 

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone. 

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze. 

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.” 

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?” 

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly. 

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car. 

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

[kiemiu]

headcanons of chris dating a lavish hyper feminine gf | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 943 (library) + (request)

boyfriend!chris who loves that you have standards. as someone who grew up with a certain lifestyle, you made it clear to chris before you started dating him that you don't settle and have pretty high standards. expecting him to take a step back because most men do when they realize they can't afford you, he surprisingly doesn't. he just smiles with low eyes and says "i can handle whatever you throw at me, mama."

boyfriend!chris who reaches for his wallet without hesitation every single time. before you can even set all of your items on the counter, he's pulling out his wallet. when you go out to eat together, he pulls his wallet out as soon as the waiter mentions the check. it doesn't really matter where you are and what you're buying, he's gonna be the one to pay for it. doesn't even entertain the idea of you paying for something by yourself and will actually roll his eyes at you when you start to reach in your purse.

boyfriend!chris who pays for your mani pedi every time you go to the nail salon. all you have to do is offhandedly mention your acrylics growing out and he'll give you his card to go and get your nails done. every now and then when he has the free time, he'll go get it done with you. he usually finishes his treatment before you, so when he does he likes to just sit next to you and gossip with you and your nail tech. if you mention that you're hungry and the nail tech still has a long way to go with your nails, he'll pick up something to eat for the both of you and even the nail tech if they want anything. without thinking twice he'll feed you so you don't disrupt the nail tech while they're working. he'll get really shy whenever the other people in the salon point it out and coo over how doting he is.

boyfriend!chris who also chooses your nail design. he's consistently been choosing your nail color and design ever since you've gotten together and he takes the job very seriously. he'll genuinely get offended if you let someone else choose your nail design or if you get a touchup without letting him know. besides that, he loves to get matching designs, even if it's something as simple as having each other's initials on your ring fingers.

boyfriend!chris who loves to watch you get ready in the morning. if you ever have somewhere to be and he doesn't, he likes to follow you around like a baby duck and watch you pamper yourself. he'll hold your hair up for you while you search for a hair tie, he'll blow dry your hair for you, he'll choose your perfume, he'll even pick out your outfit if you let him. if he's not doing that, he'll just watch you do your makeup in fascination and whisper compliments, usually something along the lines of. "beautiful before and after." never fails to ask you for a kiss after you put on lipgloss, even though you'd think he'd hate the sticky feeling, he actually loves it and won't wipe it off even long after you're gone.

boyfriend!chris who keeps a compact mirror on him just in case you need it. when you're together, you try not to be on your phones as much, especially when you're out spending one on one time together so to avoid you looking at your phone he carries a small compact mirror around for whenever you feel the need to check your makeup. you could just carry it in your purse, but he prefers to do it. he says it'll be safer in his hands, especially since it's made out of glass but the real reason is that he likes you asking him for help.

boyfriend!chris who carries all of your bags. it could be groceries, shopping bags, or luggage, it doesn't matter. he'll always do the heavy lifting as well as the easy lifting. all you have to do is be pretty for him, he enjoys the view. if he sees you carrying something he'll take it from you without hesitation, especially if it looks heavy. most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it, he just feels the need to grab whatever you're holding. what if you chip a nail? he can't have that happen, you'd be so upset, and what kind of boyfriend would he be to not keep you happy?

boyfriend!chris who is always pleasantly surprised when you buy him stuff in return. he genuinely enjoys spoiling you, and the way you always show appreciation for him and the things he does for you always makes him feel fulfilled as your boyfriend. so, whenever you give him something back that's not affectionate doting, he's always pleasantly surprised and really appreciative.

boyfriend!chris who loves to kiss your attitude away. you've accumulated a bit of an attitude due to everything being handed to you, so whenever something doesn't go your way, you have no qualms about showing how annoyed you are about it. the platform uggs you wanted went out of stock? well, chris is right next to you to kiss the pout away and promise that he'll get them for you as soon as they're back in stock. your nails didn't turn out the way you wanted them to? no worries, chris will take you to get them redone tomorrow. he's always there to smother his pouty baby in kisses.

boyfriend!chris who is completely wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @oliviagirlsworld @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore

[angelicblondie]

popstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe ~~~ pre-award show ride 18 + MINORS DNI

the scent of tom fords tobacco vanilla and victoria secret tease wafted in the back of the limo, filling your nostrils with the sweetest fusion. kind of symbolic, you thought, of you and rafe - the perfect pair.

your heel tapped on the floor of the car as you sat poised in your seat, rafe sitting to your right, arms rested on the tinted window seal as he gazed out onto the streets.

your eyes flickered to him every so often, almost like you couldn't help it, almost like there was simply a magnetic pull - always has been with the two of you.

tonight was the VMAs, and unlike the very beginning of your carreer, award shows were a lot less daunting. you were up for a couple categories, and even thus far into your career you couldn't shake the pre-show nerves.

rafe looked over, noticing the tapping of your heel which he had come to realize as a nervous habit by now. "hey," he called out, "you good?"

you look over, fluttering your lashes a bit. "why? lookin' to make me better?"

rafe, used to your flirting by now, rolled his eyes with a breathy laugh. "jesus, kid, next time i wont ask."

you bit your lip, moving your leg over to nudge his. "sorry," you held back a giggle, yet you words were sincere. "m'good, just nerves."

he hummed in understanding, looking down as your legs before looking back out the window, his hand wordlessly coming down to grip above your knee, his thumb smoothing over the skin.

you swallowed, taking a breath and attempting to relax into your seat. it was crazy how one little touch from him sent your heart aflame, beating against your chest as warmness spread throughout you. rafe just had that affect on you.

sure, you played it cool - being charismatic was an essential part of your job, you were a master at it. but rafe....he was different. you covered it up by quick remarks and flirty liners, but deep down you both knew that what you two shared - the connection you - was a lot more than that.

a lot more than that time in your dressing room back on tour.

since then, you two had gone back to normal...in your own way. except this time, normal consisted of sly touches and longing looks. heated makeouts once in a blue moon (if your lucky), and knowing stares.

it was exciting, exhilarating, even. you felt in control, even though you had never really felt more helpless. but really, it made sense - everything else in your life was hardly your decision. you didn't get to pick the tour dates, you didn't get to pick which cities, which stadiums. you don't get to pick what events you go to, or when the album deadline is, or who your paired up with on PR dates - thats the managments choice, not yours. a lot of the time, it feels likes your life isnt yours.

but when your with rafe...that all changes.

you could hear the faint sound of classical music that the driver mustve been playing, muffled by the closed divider. the silence between you and rafe was comfortable, his thumb continuing to rub your skin as you tried to pull your eyes away from the contact.

after a moment, rafe speaks up. "when we get there, walk straight to the carpet. take a couple photos, answer a couple questions from reporters, and meet us on the other side."

you sigh softly, rolling your eyes. "i know, i know. its the same every time, rafey," you say, faux annoyed.

He hums, squeezing your leg. "just lookin' out f'you," he grumbles, turning away.

you giggle under your breath, seeing his frustration. you reach over to his leg teasingly, squeezing his lower thigh. "aw, c'mon, m'sorry," you mumble, as he looks back, scoffing out a laugh. "whatever, kid. feeling less nervous?"

your heart beat faster against your chest at your now closer proximity. whilst you certainly feel less nervous, you didn't want him to know that. your bit your lip. "not really," your murmur, to which his lips tilt up a bit, sensing your bluff. "no?" he questions.

you nod in agreement, you eyes locked on his, transfixed by the blue. you bit your lip, sitting up straighter in your seat. "yeah...i dunno, i was kind of hoping for a distraction?"

rafe lets out a laugh, catching your drift, leaning back on his seat. "nah, kid, thats bad. m'not gonna mess you up when you got all pretty. the press would love that."

you pout. "i dont mind..." you trail of, keeping eye contacy as your hands trails up his thigh. "please?" you all but whisper.

rafe purses his lips, hand rubbing his jaw. after a moment, he flicks his head in a nod. "alright, c'mon."

with his signal your slowly lean over, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. when the kiss starts slow, rafe breaks apart, smirking. "gone all soft on me?" he whispers. you swallow as your eyes remain on his lips as his do yours. "maybe," you whisper back, reconnection your lips in a more heated kiss, climbing up on his lap.

rafe moves your long dress to pool over the two of you, his hands holding the silky thin material covering your back. your hands gripped his biceps through his suit, humming into his mouth as your lips continued to dance.

your panties brushed over his lap and each time you moved you took in a sharp inhale of breath, causing him to grin into the kiss. his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the plump covered skin, resulting in you arching your back into him, pressing you into his chest.

"so needy," he mumbled against you, hands still laid flat on your backside. with rosy cheeks, you murmur a flustered, "shut up," but dont deny his words.

with your lips still attached, rafe slipped his hands under the silk, his hands hot over your skin. i hum against him, reaching down to fiddle with his belt, breathing into him.

he hummed back, toying with the lacy sides of your panties. "sure you want to?" he questions breathlessly in a low voice.

"mhm, m'sure," you respond, eyes flickering up from his belt to meet his, cheeks red under his hot gaze. all of the sudden you felt shy, your movement faltering.

his lips quirked up warm smirk, he slid his hands off your skin and moved them down to his belt, finishing the job for you. "i got it," he murmurs, eyes locked on yous.

you bite your lip and looks down, watching as he slides his pants and boxers down to his ankles as you sit up a little. his hands move to your waist, moving you back up his body to hover over his lap. you look back up to him sliding you panties to the side and lining up your entrance with his dick.

you sink down, both of you sucking in breaths at the contact. rafe throws his head back, eyes shutting at the sensation and squeezing your waist, letting out a low groan. you clench around him at the sounds and bite back a whimper, hands pressing against his shoulders.

"oh, rafe," you sigh, body slumping in pleasure as he fills you slowly. "i know princess, i know," he murmurs, voice filled with the same lightness as yours.

"doing so good," he praises, leaning forwards to place a kiss on your shoulder. you hum, starting to lift yourself up, before slowly sliding back down.

rafe guides you, helping to ride him, slowly. every movement pleasurably stings, his length filling you up, causing you to squeeze around him.

euphoria fills you as does he. you feel the warmth of his hot breath against your skin and his hands over the silk covering your hips, the soft grunts and graon coming from his perfect lips. his throbbing head hits your spot, causing you to let out a breathy moan and grip his chiseled shoulders.

when he feels you clench around him, he grins, sliding his rough hands up your back. "close, yeah?" he whispers, and you quickly nod, a pout on your lips and your brows furrowed. "mhm," you answer, biting down on your lip as you look down, watching as you lift up, your dress moving aside to reveal the sight of your around him, causing you to take in a sharp inhale of air.

rafe follows your line of sight, and bites his lip, concentrated on the movement. he looks back up at you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, bringing you focus to him. "hey, look at me," he orders, "want you lookin at me when i make you cum."

you hum, folding your lips inwards as you continue to ride him, not looking away from his face.

"rafe," you whimper, movement getting sloppy. "i know, i've got you," he mumbles, his hands moving down to once again guide you up and down his cock.

"shit," you curse, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten. "m'close."

"let go, baby, c'mon. i've got you."

at his word, the coil burst, euphoria washing over you as your throw your head back, eyes rolling back.

rafe marveled at the sight, in awe as he watched you come down. his hands kept moving you up and down him, letting you ride out your high.

you collapse on top of him, panting into his neck as he let out a chuckle, holding you close to him. you two sit in silence, chests heaving up and down with every breath. "feelin less nervous?" rafe humorously whispers, causing you to let out a breathy laugh, lifting up to dismount him. his words lead you back to reality, remembering that in just a few short minutes, you would be strutting on a red carpet.

you hum. "much. how do i look?"

rafe tilts his head as he tugs his pants back up, considering you. "like you just got your shit rocked."

you scoff out a laugh. "seriouslly."

he laughs. "you look good. you always do."

your cheeks get rosy. your lips form in a pout though, once you realize that you were the only one who came.

he sees your guilty expressions and smiles slightly, waving it off. "dont worry, i'll be ok."

your lips lift in a coy smile. "im not worried," you say, your voice tilting seductively. "we may not have enough time right now but..." you trail off, sliding your panties back up your legs. "i have a good feeling im going to need to slip off to the bathroom somtime during the show, and of course i'll need my bodyguard to escort me," you say, playfully.

he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head. "your trouble."

you dont respond to his statement, simply shrugging before slumping back into your seat, pulling out your lipgloss and hand mirror, fixing the smudge. after checking over the rest of your appearance, you put everything back in your purse, smacking your lips and looking out the window.

you watch as the car rolls up, the sight of fans, paparazzi, and flashes filling your view.

you sigh, look to the side to see rafe getting ready to step out. he tilts his brows. "ready?"

you nod, biting your lip. "ready."

[bunnygirllover45]

Hii!! I’m kinda obsessing over the Idea of Johann before he kidnapped his darling, going out to buy clothes and him just enjoying it WAY more than Darling. Like bro’s INTO it, picking out dresses and making darling do a fashion show for him?? Just wanted to put this thought out there lol. Idk if he’d actually do that but I can dream,,,, Anyways that’s all— thank you!!!!

Anon you're into some shit rn and I totally agree with you. Johann would do that 100%. TW: Darling had a past relationship that wasn't too nice, mentions of body insecurity, hints of dollification but it's Johann who are we talking about this is obvious by now.

Your past relationship before Johann wasn't the best, you weren't used to him buying you stuff so carelessly or taking you every other day. At first, it was a little hard to get accustomed to the sudden change, but eventually, you started to like it. Except for the part where you and he had to go to the clothing store. Each time Johann stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a date to point at a cute outfit sitting in the window of a random store, a part of you internally screamed for him not to drag you inside.

Speaking about that— "You like these? These frills might be itchy on your skin though..." —yes, you were trapped inside another store again. Taking in a deep breath you stared at Johann, then at the dress he was holding. No matter how often you told him you either didn't like this style of clothing or that it wouldn't look good in it, he still made you buy and wear the stuff. Of course, he only made you wear it when both of you were alone, there's no way he'd let you look this adorable in front of someone else.

You wondered how many more clothes he could buy you, after all, even if Johann made sure to visit you almost every day, his job kept him from being with you all the time. Most of the time he kept some of the clothes in his house too, he had a 'special place for them', out of context that phrase could be worrying, but Johann was such a sweetheart behind that stoic exterior that you didn't really question it. As he grabbed another piece of clothing you shot your hands to grab his forearm, squeezing softly as you smiled up to him. "J-Johann, I don't think I'd look good on that. I have many dresses back at home too, you shouldn't buy mo—" But before you could even finish you felt Johann leaning down to whisper against your ear, his voice soft and secretive. "I think you'd look good in anything." the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "I've always wanted to take care of someone as precious as you, would you let me do that?" There was serious longing in his voice. From all the past experiences you had with him, you clearly noticed that ache to fulfill a role that Johann always had. Taking care of you during dates, making sure you didn't get sick, and even aftercare with him was a blissful experience. All the things he told you about feeling empty and without a purpose in life, it's like a part of him has been waiting all this time to have this, to have you. You stood stunned, questioning if you should feel even more embarrassed or prideful, he looked at you with an adoration written in his eyes that made you shiver, and you felt a little guilty at how much you enjoyed it. "Here, we can buy these and try them out at home, how does that sound?" You nodded, giving him a compliant smile as you reached to hug his arm. "Okay... thank you." One hand snaked its way around your waist, squeezing slightly as he kissed you on the top of the head, nuzzling against it. "You're welcome, baby."

[sun-flower-children]

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

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

You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

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

part 1 | part 2 >

[emptyheadedhousecow]

still fat

900 words · 5 min read · emptyheadedhousecow.tumblr.com · November 2024

The funnel is empty. The blanket is dotted with crumbs. The pizza boxes are on the floor — there's a grease stain on the bedsheet where it had been carelessly placed half an hour ago, but that's a job for tomorrow. The box of aftercare chocolates is open and the best ones are already gone. It was hot, but the libido is gone now, and appetites are more than sated. Your feeder is curled up beside you, half-asleep already, small beside you, eclipsed by your mass. The pain has been kissed and rubbed away, but you're still swollen and stuffed, and most importantly, you're still fat.

They woke up before you. The pizza boxes are gone, and the funnel too; through the walls you hear the dishwasher churning, something sizzling on a stovetop, and fresh coffee being ground. There's a hunger brewing inside you already, but the stretchmarks on your sides are itching again, and the moisturiser is just out of reach. They'd jump at the chance to help, but it's not sexy right now, you just want the discomfort gone. You shift and roll, and build momentum, and grab the bottle, and then come crashing back down on the mattress in a breathless heap, your fat splayed out in exactly the same way it was before. You breathe, and recover, and you have to remind yourself, like every other morning, that your body has grown into something made of carbs and lard, even though everything else is back to normal, you're still fat.

Your day would be easy for anyone else, but everything is an ordeal for you. It seems like every time you shower you discover a new fold that needs to be cleaned and powdered. You need to catch your breath while washing your hair. You could wear clothes, if you wanted, but it's so much easier not to try, and you're increasingly unsure just how long it's been since you wore anything at all. Your feeder brings you all the food you could want, four meals a day or five if you're lucky... and you're grateful, of course you are, but not every meal is sex. You eat because you're hungry — a deep hunger that's only satisfied when you're pushed to breaking point — and you eat to shush, if only for a little while, that tiny voice inside you that's always demanding more more more. You knew this would happen; that every time you push yourself, your appetite grows a little... and you've pushed yourself a lot. You don't always eat because you want to, you eat because you HAVE to, because that's what a body as fat as yours craves, and day after day, you're still fat.

And then the funnel's back in play, and another order is lined up on the pizza app. Can you down the pitcher of cream before the pizzas arrives, and then the pizzas too? It's always an offer, never coerced. It was such a struggle last time, you only barely made it, but that only means it'll be easier now. And the tiny voice inside you can't be silenced, and the deep hunger is so very demanding, and it does drive you wild to see them this excited. You agree. You know you won't be able to stop yourself from pushing yourself to your limit, again, and you know that if you manage it, next time there might be another pizza on top, and that's far beyond what any normal person could eat, and as exciting as that is, you can't help but worry a little. But the preparations are underway, and your feeder's in the kitchen already, and all you need to do is eat, which you're amazing at, so this is just the best option, right? After all, you've done this a hundred times, what's one more? Tonight won't change anything, not really — either way, you're still fat.

The next day is always the same as the day before. Your feeder is dressed in a tenth of the time it takes you to shuffle to the edge of the bed and you're exhausted already. A kiss and a smile and you're helped to your feet, but you're not steady, and your balance is always unfamiliar, and it wasn't so long ago that it wouldn't even have occurred to you that you might need help getting up, and yet here it is, a development as casual as a second portion of breakfast. It ought to worry you but you are so very hungry, and the little voice is louder than your own thoughts these days, even though the pressure from last night's feast remains. Food is brought directly to the bedroom, once a rare treat but now the norm simply because it's getting harder to walk to the kitchen, even assisted. Getting dressed isn't an option anymore, for sure there's no clothes that still fit you, and that means no going outside, even in the car. Not that you've been outside in a long time. Perhaps you begin to slowly realise, if you hadn't been in denial about it already, that your last opportunity to lose the weight has quietly disappeared, who knows how long ago, and you never even noticed. But that doesn't seem nearly as important as finishing the plate of food that's in front of you. Maybe you'll get a chance to think about that later, maybe not — it feels like a very permanent fact of your life that you're still fat, forever.

[buckevantommy]

Bucktommy Fixit where they reconnect next year and become friends - albeit ones who mostly converse via text and only really see each other on calls or running into each other at a bar etc. They don’t actually make plans to hang out, they just keep in touch. But keeping in touch turns into daily text conversations about anything and everything which turns into post-shift phonecalls at least once a week.

Meanwhile: Buck is casually dating, maybe more than one person, because he’s not looking to settle down right now he’s just looking to have some fun and meet some interesting people. But he starts dating one guy a little more seriously, to the point he stops dating others.

Also: Tommy’s been seeing a therapist. And doing art therapy. And trying his damndest not to turn into a sad lonely old man. It was a new year’s resolution kind of thing. He’d dated casually but soon realised it was better to just meet his base needs and focus on platonic relationships - like new friends and old friends, acquaintances and coworkers, and what little family he still talks to. 

Someone asks how Buck’s new boyfriend feels about Buck texting his ex-boyfriend so much (and Buck has mixed feelings about all of that: having an ex-boyfriend and a second boyfriend makes him giddy and conflicted all at once). He starts to wonder if he shouldn’t be texting Tommy so much now that he’s dating someone properly. But he doesn’t get the same want to text his boyfriend about his work day or random things in his life, and when they do text it’s brief and he doesn’t respond to Buck’s rambling trains of thought the same way Tommy does. He thinks it’s fine. Not everyone is a texter. And Tommy is his friend and people text their friends all the time while dating or being married.

But it’s different when it’s an ex. And Buck hasn’t told his current boyfriend that the friend he’s always texting with is an ex. Not that current boyfriend is aware of how much they’re texting or how often they talk on the phone. And current boyfriend knows Buck’s ex is called Tommy. And Buck always just says ‘a friend’ whenever current boyfriend asks who pinged him. Never ‘just’ a friend; Tommy will never be that for Buck, despite everything.

Things come to a head late one night after/during a rough shift or after a fight with Buck’s current boyfriend. Buck calls Tommy and vents because Tommy always lets him vent and always listens to what he has to say, and then he broaches what they haven’t discussed since reconnecting months ago: does Tommy ever think about where they’d be right now if they were still together?Buck has taken responsibility for his part in moving too fast, but he wants to know more about Tommy’s headspace now compared to when things ended between them. It’s curiousity in that ‘what if’ sense, but he also wants to know how Tommy is really doing, if he’s opening himself up to people, letting himself be happy, be loved.

There’d been a closure type of conversation not long after they reconnected, with Tommy apologizing and being sincerely happy for Buck and mentioning how he’s been working on himself a lot in the time since. And buck was happy for him but Tommy held back on details about what exactly he was doing and what that meant for him and his future relationships. He wanted Tommy to want to tell him, so he didn’t pry, but he liked the idea of being a friend Tommy could be open and honest with.

“Evan..”

Tommy knows he hates when he calls him ‘Buck’, but he never actually switched back to ‘Evan’, instead just kind of omitted saying his name altogether. Buck wonders what he’s listed as on Tommy’s phone. On Buck’s phone Tommy is ‘TK’, and he’s told more than one white lie to more than one nosey person that it was a firefighter friend from Texas - gay but happily married. He does keep in touch with T.K., but there’s periods between his letters on Buck’s contact list.

Tommy already said he’s sorry. He’s already told Buck it wasn’t his fault, that he would’ve ended things eventually even if they took their time with every step and that’s on him, it’s his issues and his life, not Buck’s.

“I can’t think about that.”

“I think about it all the time.”

Buck has a boyfriend and he’s happy, but he thinks about his ex-boyfriend slash current friend and what they could’ve looked like today if Buck had found a way to make Tommy believe he wanted all of him. He tells himself it’s to know himself better, to be better prepared and try harder next time. But he’s kidding himself if he says it’s not because he still has feelings for Tommy.

“You have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

And.. he is. He is happy with current boyfriend. But he was happy with Tommy. And he can’t help wondering if he was happier with Tommy than he is right now, or if Tommy was right and his excitement and wonder about being in a queer relationship got muddled up with how he felt about Tommy. He still doesn’t know. He wishes he knew. 

“I was happy with you.” Tommy sighs over the line but Buck doens’t let him cut things off. “I know you think it was puppy love, and that I didn’t know you well enough, but.” But. He knows Tommy better now. Tommy has opened up to him as a friend, sharing personal details about himself and his past - not everything Buck wants to know and he never could bring himself to ask, but he’s learned things about Tommy in these past few months that he wishes he’d known when they were dating. And he wants to know more. He wants to know it all. 

“But?”

“Sometimes, it works backwards.” Sometimes you get to know someone and fall for them, and then you learn dark things about their past or get a better look at their emotional baggage or they go through a rough time. And some people break up because it’s too much or not what they wanted. But some people simply care more, and become stronger together for it. Buck wanted the chance to know Tommy better, to be there with him through the bad times. He never got to find out how things would’ve gone but he thinks he knows his own heart well enough to know he wouldn’t have abandoned or rejected or hated or been fed up with Tommy because he has a past or he’s imperfect or life threw some crap at him.

Buck knows people are more than they seem. He wants to see them for everything they are, to be trusted with that, the same way he wants to be seen in return and wanted anyway.

“What does?”

“Love.”

Sometimes, you love someone more after you learn the bad stuff - or what they think is bad - not less.

Buck breathes in as Tommy remains quiet.

“I didn’t have to know all of you to love you, Tommy. And whatever you think about how I would’ve reacted to the things you didn’t share with me, you’re wrong. I know I would’ve loved you anyway. And not out of pity, or some misguided infatuation, but because knowing you better means getting to love more of you, it means loving you better.”

Tommy doesn’t respond, and when there’s a bleep from Buck’s phone he thinks Tommy hung up - except he didn’t: it’s a facetime request. They’ve done this a few times before but only for something on a call or because it was easier for Buck to show Tommy what he was talking about in realtime rather than try to send through photos and videos.

Tommy fills his screen looking soft around the edges, hair and clothes and face bed-rumpled. His face is drawn into something that threatens to break Buck’s heart again; it beats in aching memory and yearns in equal measure. You’re good, he wants to say, you don’t deserve what you put on yourself.

“Tommy..”

[fruitsboots]

I'm a nail technician and here's a big list of headcanons about the kinds of clients the TOS Enterprise crew would be!

Kirk:

-shows up on time for appointment but sometimes has to cancel super last minute.

-doesn't bite his nails but picks at them and his cuticles. not enough to bleed or anything but enough that most of his appointment is cuticle work.

- "Cut them short" my guy there's no free edge.

- holds still, uses arm rest appropriately, doesn't stiffen his hands. no polish, just buffed smooth. jokes every time that next time maybe he'll go with a hot pink.

-asks a lot of questions and chats at the beginning of the appointment but ends up getting a little bored by the end.

-always tips very well but doesn't rebook, he'll call you.

Spock:

-doesn't make appointments, just shows up sometimes on slow days and asks to use certain supplies.

-does his own nails and keeps them very nice and neat. nail beds to die for. Nails grow very fast.

-On occasion has been talked into a dark polish and will let someone else do that for him (he's not very good at the application).

-sits a little too stiffly like he's concentrating. speaks when spoken to. doesn't linger long, the smell gives him a headache.

-doesn't tip but you’re not sure if he knows he’s supposed to.

McCoy:

-calls and asks if there’s time for a walk in then shows up later than he tells you but usually has a good excuse.

-Hands are dry as hell from washing them a lot. Worst, driest cuticles. Always gets a split on the edge of his pointer finger.

-Sits too far away from the table, at an angle, hunched, wrists on the armrest and elbows locked. Has to be asked to scoot arms forward a million times.

-Is annoying to work on technically, but fun to chat with. Always turns into a complaint session but in the best way. Wants to know the drama in your life and gives opinions.

- Closes eyes and tries not to doze off during the hand massage. Wipes off all the lotion that he desperately needs.

-Tips alright and always says he’ll come back soon but you know it’ll be another 4 months.

Uhura:

-has a standing appointment every 3 weeks and is never late, sometimes she’ll bring you a drink and apologizes when she doesn’t.

-Did her own nails for a long time and keeps them well manicured between appointments.

-Will (properly!) remove her own gel polish before appointments to save you the trouble.

- Tends to go for lighter, pearlescent shades. Always asks what you have that’s new but then picks one of her go-tos.

- Loves to look at nail art but doesn’t usually get it.

-Super bubbly during appointments, very patient, sits perfectly. Always enthusiastic about the result and gives lots of praise.

-Tips well and takes business cards to give to people.

Chapel:

-Not really supposed to get her nails done but does anyways. Doesn’t have super regular appointments but usually books with Uhura when she does.

-Usually shows up with chipped polish from last time that desperately needed removed 3 weeks ago.

-Gets light/sheer colors.

-Sometimes will book for a gel manicure and then tell you she doesn’t actually want polish this time even tho she needs it. Nice nails beds but they are thin and peel a bit without anything on them.

-Apologizes for no reason multiple times. Thanks you as if it were an inconvenience to do her nails? 

-After a few appointments, she loosens up a bit. Tips decent.

Sulu:

-has gotten his nails done like five times just for fun.

-Keeps them short, not much cuticle work. Why are you here??

- Will get a couple “masculine” designs and isn’t picky about them. “You just do whatever you think will look best :) “

-genuinely fun to have as a client but needs some direction on how to sit etc. can talk about anything.

-Didn’t tip the first time bc he didn’t know and felt bad so he always does, but it’s not much.

Scotty:

-how can one man have so much grease under his nails?

-Has a standing appointment once a month for just a nail trim but should be more like every two weeks.

-Asks questions about nail equipment (UV lamp, e-file, etc).

-Talks a bit during the appointment and then stands around after chatting. Always tips like 2$ but sometimes brings baked goods, etc.

Chekov:

-wanders in with a bruised nail and is like “what can you do for this” nothing dude.

-Leaves and comes back later to buy a gift certificate to give to a girl.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Dustin shows up at his house the next morning.

"You have a concussion," Dustin says when Steve answers the door.

Steve squints at him. "Did you get your medical license when I wasn't looking?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "Haha, very funny. Are you going to let me in?"

Steve doesn't really have a reason not to.

All right, well, he's got several reasons not to, starting with the fact that Steve isn't actually feeling so great and ending with Dustin being like thirteen and somehow always around when the world is ending.

But Steve is lonely, and feeling kind of pathetic, and none of them seem like good enough reasons, so he opens the door and lets Dustin in.

"From my mom," Dustin says, setting down a Tupperware of brownies on the coffee table.

Steve immediately knows he's made the right decision, taking a massive bite of chocolate, fudgy heaven. It's only after he's devoured one and he turns to Dustin to ask him to tell his mom thanks that he sees that Dustin's plopped his heart onto the coffee table, too.

"Hearts out, Steve," Dustin says matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Steve bitches. "What do you even need to look at it for?"

"You're in the Party now! Party rules, you have to show your heart before you can get your walkie," Dustin says.

Steve pulls a face, and immediately regrets it as it makes his eye and nose burst with pain. "Who says I even want to be in your party?"

Dustin's face falls. "Don't you?" he asks, sounding hesitant and uncertain.

It makes Steve's resolve crumble immediately.

"How about we start with friends?" Steve offers.

The kid's face lights up at that, giving him a gap toothed smile, but then he nudges his heart closer to Steve and looks at him expectantly.

Steve sighs and takes his own heart out, wincing a little as the motion twinges his bruised ribs. He sets it on the table next to Dustin's.

"There you go," Steve mutters.

Now that the light's better, he can see a hole right in the middle of Dustin's heart. It's small, but it goes all the way through, and it makes Steve's own heart give a soft pulse in empathy.

Dustin catches it, looks up to follow Steve's gaze, and drops his eyes. "My dad," Dustin mutters.

"Hey," Steve says softly, reaching out without even thinking about it to turn his heart a little.

There's two overlapping holes in the same place on his own heart, and Steve rubs his thumb over them, biting the inside of his cheek at the way it still prompts a soft echo of longing. "My parents," he tells Dustin.

Dustin looks around, like he's only just now realizing that there's been no sign of them since he rang the doorbell. "Oh," he says, soft and full of understanding.

It's honestly the most understanding he's ever received about his parents choosing to be mostly absent from his life, which makes him feel kind of pathetic, but also makes his heart warm in a way he's not sure it ever has before.

Dustin reaches out, stopping just short of touching Steve's heart as he gestures to the jagged line cutting through it.

"Nancy?" Dustin asks.

Steve's jaw sets.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Dustin seems to take that as answer enough, though, because he just goes back to eagerly examining both of their hearts. Steve's is bigger than his - of course it is, because Dustin is thirteen, but they're both the same deep, vibrant red, and they both beat strong and steady.

It's barely any time before they're beating in unison.

Dustin looks back up at him, beaming that wide, goofy smile of his. "Cool," he proclaims.

—

Every time Dustin comes over after that - and it's a lot, honestly, Steve still doesn't know what to make of it - he plops his heart onto the coffee table and waits expectantly until Steve takes his out and puts it next to Dustin's.

They never touch each other's hearts, they never even talk about it, but at least twice a week Steve's able to breathe a little easier, able to actually relax.

—

He waits at the picnic table in the woods after school on his first day back.

Munson looks bored at first when he gets there, but then he does a double take, like Steve's injuries are worse now than they were at lunch.

Or maybe it's just that he's up close now, instead of on the other side of the cafeteria, or maybe it's just that Steve's tired and in pain and he doesn't give a shit about pretending like he isn't.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” Munson mutters, dropping his lunchbox on the table.

Steve shrugs. “I'd say you should see the other guy, but everyone did already.”

Munson is looking at him with suspicion, eyes narrowed as he takes him in. Steve wonders if he doesn't buy the story that's been floating around, if it's too easy to see that he and Hargrove both look pretty fucking bad for just blowing off steam and getting carried away.

Wonders if he'll call him on it.

Munson's expression smooths out, though, and he flips the lunchbox lid open. “How much do you want?”

Steve's eyes flick down to the chains on Munson's leather jacket, but no heart there today. Not that he could see anything if it was - Munson's been wearing his heart pinned to his jacket off and on since the last half of Steve's freshman year, but it's always wrapped up tight in chains or leather so that no one could get more than a glimpse of it.

Everyone said it was a flaunt of defiance against tradition and a way he could cheat people in his deals while maintaining the appearance of a fair exchange, but Steve always kind of figured it was just because he was tired of people demanding to see it whenever he sold to them while being reluctant to show theirs.

That, and it was like everything else Eddie Munson did - loud and in your face and purposefully drawing attention to what he wanted you to see, while guarding what he didn't close to his chest.

Steve's never bothered with attempting a mutual show of hearts the handful of times he's bought from Munson before - they aren't exactly new business partners, not even the first time he actually bought from Munson himself, and frankly Steve's never needed to see Munson's heart to know he's trustworthy enough that he's not going to give him bad shit, even if he does overcharge him.

But today's different.

He gently pops open his own chest, ignoring the faint twinge of his ribs, and takes his heart out, setting it on the table next to Munson's lunchbox.

Munson's eyes widen for a moment before his jaw sets, lips thinning out in a flat line as he looks down at Steve's heart and then back up to his face. “What the hell is this?”

“My heart,” Steve replies evenly.

Munson looks unimpressed. “I'm not showing you mine.”

“I didn't ask you to,” Steve says, unable to stop himself even though he knows he's being kind of a dick.

Munson looks at him for a moment. Then, “Whatever. How much do you want?”

Steve opens his mouth to say he isn't here to buy today, but - actually, no, he could probably use some weed to dull the pain and help him sleep. It's routine for a moment, both of them ignoring Steve's heart beating on the table next to them as they make the trade, until Steve's baggie is tucked inside his jacket and Munson's shoving cash into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty,” Munson says, doing a little bow.

“Munson, wait,” Steve says.

Munson straightens, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hargrove tried to blame this on you.” Steve gestures at his face. “Told me you sold him some bad shit.”

Munson goes very, very still. His eyes flick down to Steve's heart, so quick that Steve's not sure he would have noticed it if he wasn't watching Munson so closely.

“That so?” Munson asks. There isn't an edge in his voice - if anything, there's such a quiet neutrality to those two words that it almost feels more dangerous than if he'd tried to put a warning in them.

Eddie Munson's never scared Steve the way he does half the school - honestly, shitty as it is, Steve doesn't exactly think of him all that much - but there's no denying that Munson is no pushover. He can't tell if Munson is afraid, or angry, or just itching for a fight, but Steve didn't come here to freak him out.

He holds his hands up, palm out, and purposefully drags his gaze down to where his heart is beating calm and steady. “I don't believe him.”

Munson looks down at Steve's heart, lingering for a moment before darting back up. His expression is still unreadable. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he said he was going to spread it around, that you were lacing your stuff with something,” Steve says. “I'm pretty sure I convinced him it was a bad idea, but just in case.”

“You convinced him it was a bad idea,” Munson repeats flatly.

Steve shrugs. “I told him he should be nicer to you, that you always sell me the good shit.”

That gets a little snort out of Munson, startled and almost amused, and Steve grins at him.

“It won't be hard to tack that onto the rumor if he tries to spread it,” Steve says. “So you should be safe.”

Just like that, the amusement in Munson's expression is gone. “Yeah?” he asks, disdain clear in his voice. “And why does King Steve give a shit if I'm safe?”

It's an obvious challenge, and for just a moment - for just a moment, Steve wants to tell him.

To tell him how the King Steve shit first came about because Carol loved fairy tales when they were little and his parents were gone so much that Tommy called him king of the castle, that he has tons of people who call him their friend but the only people who come close to understanding him are his ex, her new boyfriend, and a gaggle of middle schoolers who're waiting for him to come pick them up.

That he's more tired than any seventeen year old should ever be.

“What kind of king would I be if I didn't protect my people?” he says instead of any of that, refusing to look at whatever his heart is doing.

It's high school, it's politics, it's bullshit, but it's still a game he has to play for a little longer.

Munson is watching his heart, now, and whatever he sees makes something complicated cross his face. For a moment, Steve picks up a hint of longing, but it's gone by the time he looks back up.

“Well then,” he says, wide grin back in place as he bows again. “Consider this court jester protected, Your Majesty.”

—

The phone rings at one am a few days later.

He isn't asleep - had been, earlier, but a nightmare had tipped him quickly into wakefulness, and he hadn't gone back - so he answers it almost immediately.

Nothing good comes from one am phone calls.

“How many teeth do you think those things have?” Max demands without so much as a hello.

“I don't know,” Steve bitches before he's thought better of it. “You want to come over and count the bite marks on my leg?”

There's silence for a moment.

“Yeah,” Max says, and Steve's gut twists.

“It's one in the morning, Mayfield,” he says. “What are you going to do, skate over? It's dark and cold as shit out there.”

“Didn't stop us at the junkyard,” she shoots back.

He's quiet for a moment. Then, “I'll pick you up.”

She snorts. “You're going to show up at my house at one am and pick me up? Yeah, that'll be a great look for you.”

“Then it looks like you're out of luck, and you'll have to pick out the teeth marks on my leg tomorrow.”

She doesn't say anything for a while. He doesn't rush her, just settles back with the phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

“Why'd you do it?” she asks eventually.

“I ask myself that about a lot of things,” he replies. “Which one?”

He half expects another snappy retort, but her voice just goes even quieter.

“Put yourself in front of me. Stand up to him.”

Oh.

“I don't need protecting,” she adds, and yeah, there's the attitude.

“I know you don't need it,” he says, even though that's a lie. She does need it, they all do. “I know you can look out for yourself.”

That's not a lie.

“But you shouldn't have to. You should have someone who'll look out for you.”

She scoffs. “And that's going to be you?”

He shrugs, even though she can't see it, and it hurts a little. “Why not?”

She's quiet again. “You don't even know me.”

He does, is the thing. He knows the way her eyes looked when she said Billy was going to kill her, he knows not being able to rely on the people you should count on most, even if it's not the same.

He knows how he felt the summer before high school, when his father finally grew too frustrated with waiting for Steve's heart to change, how he picked it up and nearly threw it across the room. He knows the sound of his mother yelling, how viciously they fought. How his father never touched him or his heart again, but Steve now knew what lurked behind his eyes when he smiled too big.

He knows how his mother has looked at him with disappointment more times than anything else, after that.

But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he says, “So let's change that. Skate park or arcade tomorrow?”

“What?” she asks, clearly thrown.

“After you're done staring at my leg wound and counting teeth like a creep,” he clarifies. “Am I taking you to the skate park or the arcade?”

“Hawkins doesn't have a skate park,” she says dismissively. “It has abandoned parking lots and dirt holes.”

He waits.

“Arcade,” she says. “And I want popcorn.”

—

His walkie flares to life at night, sometimes.

After the first time, he leaves it on a different channel than their usual one - makes sure the kids know which one it is, if they need to use it - and sometimes, they do.

Okay, more than sometimes. It's not like Steve's sleeping all that well, though, so he doesn't mind when it happens almost every night for a few weeks.

“Steve, you awake? Over,” Lucas says one night.

“Yeah, I'm up,” he mutters into the walkie. Then, after a moment's pause, “Over.”

There's silence, and that wakes him up more than the walkie itself had.

“Lucas?” he asks.

“What if you weren't there?” Lucas says.

“What?” Steve asks.

“At the junkyard. With Billy. What if you weren't there?”

“But I was,” Steve says, frowning.

“I know, but what if you weren't?”

Steve sits up, rubs at his eyes a little. “I'll always be there when you guys need me, okay?”

“You can't promise that!” If it was Dustin or Mike it might have been an angry bite, but Lucas just sounds frustrated. Maybe even a little scared.

“Sure I can,” Steve argues, even though he kind of knows Lucas is right. “I have the walkie, right? You guys call me, and bada bing bada boom, I'm there.”

Lucas is quiet for a moment. “Are you still trying to get Nancy back?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Dustin said you were bringing flowers to Nancy when he made you help him look for Dart.”

Right, of course he did. Do these kids keep any secrets from each other?

“This isn't about Nancy, okay? This is about you guys. I showed my heart to Dustin and I have my walkie and everything, doesn't that mean I'm in your party?”

“You actually want to be in the Party?” Lucas asks, sounding skeptical. “But you're Steve Harrington.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Steve asks.

“Aren't you way too cool to hang out with us?” Lucas retorts.

This is - quickly becoming a conversation that Steve doesn't really want to have over a walkie talkie at past midnight on a school night. He huffs out a frustrated breath of air, then pushes the talk button on the walkie again.

“This weekend. Arcade or shooting hoops?”

There's a pause. Then, “Really?”

Steve swallows down his urge to be a dick. “Yeah. Really.”

“Basketball. The park?” Lucas asks.

“Nah, we can use the hoop in my driveway. Come on by whenever.”

—

Lucas is good. Unpracticed, especially at any kind of teamwork, but good. Steve has to be careful, with his injuries, but they still get some good work in, and it's fun.

It's not until they're finished and raiding the kitchen for some snacks that he asks, “So what was that about, a few days ago?”

Lucas noisily pops open his can of New Coke, and takes such a long drink that Steve's pretty sure he's doing it to avoid answering. Steve just raises an eyebrow.

“Nancy used to hang out with us,” Lucas says, almost reluctantly. “She even played D&D with us a couple of times. Then she went to high school, and then she started dating you, and suddenly she's too cool to hang out with us. Then - then everything with Will, the first time, and she promised Mike they'd spend more time together, but she didn't. Just kept dating you.”

That's - a lot. He hadn't known that about Nancy, except that she wasn't as close with Mike as she wanted to be, that she didn't know how to talk to him about everything that happened. He thinks about protesting that hey, he's the one who got Nancy to talk to Mike about Will - and had to be a part of it, ugh - but again, he's trying not to be a dick.

“So you're, what, worried that I goaded Nancy into not hanging with you guys?”

Lucas makes a face at him. “No, Nancy doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. I believe you that you'll be here if we need you for Upside Down stuff again, but why would you hang out with us for the in between?”

That's a fair question. He wants to be flippant, wants to deflect with something like because Dustin keeps showing up at my house and won't leave me alone, but -

He remembers how terrified Lucas looked with Billy pinning him against the cabinet. He kind of wonders if anyone's talked to him about it, or if it got lumped in with all the other weird terrifying shit going on.

“Because it isn't always Upside Down stuff,” Steve says softly.

Lucas goes quiet. “El says Hopper told her you guys fixed it so Billy would leave us alone.”

“I think Max did that well enough, but yeah, Hop and I had a plan.”

“How?” Lucas asks.

Bullshit, is how, Steve wants to say, but he doesn't. “Billy's on the basketball team, and he wants to stay on the basketball team.”

Lucas frowns. “So?”

“So I've been on the team longer than him. Coach knows me better, the guys are used to looking to me. Well - some of them.” In all fairness, the basketball team's been kind of split - some of them gravitating to him, some to Billy, some trickling back and forth like kids with divorced parents.

“So… you're one of the cool kids, and you like us, so the more douchebag ones stay away from us?” Lucas asks.

Steve's nose scrunches a little as he considers that, but it's… not wrong. “Yeah, I guess so. Most of them are good guys, they don't like bullying anymore than I do. It doesn't stop the ones who are assholes from doing it where we can't see it, but it helps.”

Lucas looks like he's considering that for a long moment, until finally he nods.

Steve thinks that's the end of it, but later, as Lucas is heading out to leave, he asks, “So what happens if you're not there, and you can't see it?”

Steve resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose - mostly because he knows it'll hurt like hell.

“The Y is offering self defense classes,” he says, when he's gotten himself under control. “I was thinking about taking one. You in?”

Lucas is in.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 4

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy