#kids react to the hell challenge

[inseobts]

Truth or Dare Chaos

one piece surprise character x fem!reader

everyone decide to play a truth or dare game to end the celebration in a good mood, but if someone uses the chance to actually confess to you?

words count: 2.2k

tags: post-wano celebration, humor, fluff, unexpected confession

masterlist || ko-fi

The Wano celebration is in full swing, a festival of victory and relief. Lanterns glow in the night sky, laughter echoes through the streets, and sake flows like a river. After years of struggle, the alliance between the Straw Hats, Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates, and even the samurai, finally freed them.

But while the streets are alive with music and dancing, a much rowdier event unfolds inside one of the large banquet halls.

“Truth or dare!” Luffy declares, slamming a cup onto the floor with a grin.

You blink “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” Usopp chimes in, waving his hands “Come on, y/n, we just saved the world! Time for some real challenges!”

Zoro scoffs from his seat, already drinking “This is dumb.”

“Oh?” Nami smirks “Too scared, swordsman?”

Zoro’s eye twitches “Tch. Fine, whatever.”

Kid folds his arms, eyeing the growing group with suspicion “This is a waste of time”

“Sounds like someone’s scared” Law mutters, sipping his drink.

Kid glares “Shut the hell up, Trafalgar!”

Soon, the game is in full swing, pirates of all kinds gathered in a messy circle, some sitting on the floor, others lounging on cushions. The sake-fueled dares begin lightheartedly—Franky dances in his underwear, Usopp has to mimic Kaido’s laugh (horribly), and Robin sweetly forces Brook to write a love poem about his own skull.

Then, the dares escalate.

“Zoro, I dare you to wear lipstick” Nami announces with a wicked grin.

Everyone turns to the swordsman. His scowl deepens “No.”

“You have to” Luffy says through a mouthful of meat.

“Like hell I do—”

Before Zoro can react, Sanji appears at his side, a bright red lipstick in hand “Hold still, Marimo~”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

The room bursts into chaos as Zoro dodges, but in the end, Nami’s iron grip on his wallet forces him to comply. The result? A grumpy, lipstick-wearing swordsman with crossed arms and a murderous aura.

“Beautiful” you tease, and he glares daggers at you.

More dares roll in—Kid has to admit that Luffy is stronger than him (his soul nearly leaves his body), Law has to wear one of Chopper’s hats, and Yamato is dared to chug a whole bottle of sake.

Then it’s your turn.

“Alright, y/n,” Usopp announces dramatically “Truth or dare?”

You glance around. Everyone is waiting “…Dare.”

A slow, mischievous grin spreads on Nami’s face “I dare you to let someone kiss you. On the lips.”

The room erupts.

“Oi, Nami, that’s dirty!” Sanji wails, clutching his chest.

“Ahhh, spicy!” Brook cackles “Can I volunteer? Oh wait, I have no lips—”

“Wait, wait, wait” you laugh from embarassment, waving your hands. “From anyone?”

“Yep,” Nami smirks “Whoever volunteers first.”

For a second, there’s silence. A thick tension. You glance around, half-expecting Sanji to throw himself at you dramatically, but surprisingly… he doesn’t.

Then—

“I’ll do it.”

Your breath catches.

All eyes turn to the source.

It’s Law.

The normally composed, ever-serious Heart Pirates captain sits with one arm resting lazily on his knee, eyes locked on yours. There’s no joke in his voice, no teasing smirk. Just a steady, unreadable expression.

The room collectively loses its mind.

“WHAT?!”

“L-LAW?!?”

“HOLY SHIT—”

Even Kid nearly chokes on his drink.

Law, unfazed by the chaos, only tilts his head “Well?”

Your heart hammers. Of all people, you hadn’t expected him to step forward.

You swallow “You’re serious?”

He shrugs “A dare’s a dare.”

The whole room leans in. You feel heat rising to your face, but hell, backing down now would be worse. You steel yourself and lean in.

The second your lips touch, the room explodes.

Cheers, screams, laughter—someone (probably Luffy) howls like a wolf. The kiss itself is brief, but the warmth lingers as you pull away, your heart pounding.

You look at Law. He smirks ever so slightly.

“Not bad” he murmurs.

“Shut up” you mutter, flustered.

“You bastard” Kid mutters, shoving Law’s shoulder with enough force to make a lesser man topple “That was bold.”

Law just smirks, sipping his sake like he didn’t just send your heart into orbit “It was a dare.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure it was” Usopp snickers, elbowing you “But damn, y/n, you look like you’re about to explode.”

You are. Heat still lingers on your lips, and your brain refuses to function properly. You risk a glance at Law—he’s still sitting so casually, but there’s something in his eyes, something smug.

This bastard knew what he was doing.

Before you can retaliate, Luffy claps his hands “Next turn!”

The game resumes, but the energy is wild. Everyone is still high off the chaos.

“Sanji!” Luffy grins “Truth or dare?”

Sanji takes a deep breath, regaining some composure after witnessing you get kissed by Law of all people “Truth.”

Nami smirks “Have you ever had a REAL crush on anyone in this room?”

Sanji sputters “T-THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

“It absolutely is” Zoro snickers.

The cook dramatically throws himself back “Of course, my heart belongs to all the ladies in this room! But if you must know—” His gaze flickers to you for a split second before he recovers “I will take my secret to the grave!”

“BOOO!” Chopper shouts.

Brook chuckles “Very suspicious, Sanji.”

“Shut up” he grumbles, lighting a cigarette.

More rounds go by. Kid is dared to eat something spicy as hell (he nearly breathes fire), Yamato has to arm wrestle Franky (Yamato wins), and Luffy is dared to wear one of Zoro’s haramaki belts as a headband.

Then, the dares start getting worse.

“Zoro” Usopp grins evilly “I dare you to sit in Sanji’s lap for the next three turns.”

Silence.

Zoro’s face darkens instantly “I’d rather die.”

Sanji, on the other hand, shrieks “YOU THINK I WANT THAT MARIMO’S HEAVY ASS ON ME?!”

Luffy laughs so hard he falls backward “It’s a dare, Zoro! No backing out!”

Zoro glares at Usopp like he’s contemplating murder, but the sniper just grins “C’mon, ‘King of Hell,’ prove you’re not a coward.”

“Tch” Zoro grits his teeth and stomps over to Sanji, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare enjoy this” Zoro mutters before dropping into Sanji’s lap with a thud.

“GAH!” Sanji nearly topples backward “I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU BREAK MY LEGS—”

The whole room is screaming with laughter.

Even Law, usually so composed, hides a smirk behind his sake cup.

The game spirals further into madness. Luffy is dared to drink an entire bottle of sake in one go (bad idea), Bepo has to carry Kid bridal-style for a full minute (worse idea), and someone forces Jinbei to do an impression of Buggy the Clown (best idea).

Then—

“Alright, y/n” Nami turns to you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Truth or dare?”

You exhale. After what happened last time, you should pick truth. But your pride won’t let you.

“Dare” you say.

Nami grins “I dare you to sit in Law’s lap for the next three turns.”

The entire room erupts again.

You choke “WHAT?!”

Law raises an eyebrow, but there’s something dangerous in his smirk. “That’s fair” he says simply.

Fair, my ass.

“You could refuse, y/n” Robin offers sweetly “but then you’d have to do a punishment dare instead.”

You gulp. You’ve seen the punishment dares tonight. (Brook had to strip. You are NOT about to risk that.)

With a deep breath, you shuffle toward Law “I hate this game” you mutter.

Law leans back, waiting. The absolute smugness on his face makes you want to throw him out the window.

Cursing every deity, you sit on his lap.

Law’s arms rest casually around your waist, like it’s nothing. “Comfortable?” he murmurs, just for you to hear.

You refuse to give him a reaction “Shut up.”

The game barely continues because everyone is losing their damn minds over this. Sanji looks like he’s about to burst into flames, Usopp keeps making dramatic gagging noises, and Kid just straight-up leaves the room.

“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!”

But Law? Law is unfazed. In fact, he seems to be enjoying your suffering.

You sit there, face burning, waiting for the turns to pass.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Alright, I’M DONE!” You jump up, escaping Law’s grasp. He chuckles, stretching like he hadn’t just driven you insane for the last few minutes.

You glare at Nami “You’re evil...”

“I know” She winks.

The game finally begins to wind down as people start passing out from too much sake. Luffy snores on the floor, Zoro is sprawled in a corner (still wearing lipstick), and Usopp keeps muttering, “Too much romance… my heart can’t take it…”

You sigh in exhaustion “Finally.”

Then—

“y/n”

Your breath stills.

You turn. Law stands there, hands in his pockets, golden eyes locked on you. The teasing smirk from before is gone.

He takes a step closer “Can we talk?”

Your stomach flips “…About what?”

Law tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning your face “You know what.”

Oh...

Oh!

Your heartbeat quickens. The room suddenly feels too small.

The game is over, but something else is about to begin.

Your heart pounds as you swallow “Uh… sure.”

Law doesn’t hesitate, he jerks his head toward the door, and you follow him out into the cool Wano night. The festival outside is still alive, but compared to the madness inside, the quiet hum of distant music feels strangely… intimate.

You cross your arms, trying to act casual “So… what did you wanna talk about?”

Law stops near a wooden railing, leaning against it with his arms crossed. He watches you for a moment, his eyes flickering in the lantern light. Then, he sighs.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Your brow furrows “Get what?”

Another pause. Then—

“That kiss wasn’t just a dare... to me.”

Your breath catches.

You blink, your brain scrambling “Wait… what?”

Law exhales through his nose, looking almost annoyed. Like he can’t believe he has to spell it out “Seriously?” He gives you a pointed look “You really think I’d kiss you just for fun?”

You’re stunned into silence.

Because yes, that’s exactly what you’d thought. Law was always the logical one, the one who didn’t waste time on nonsense. You’d assumed he did it just to shut everyone up.

But now, as he stares at you with that unreadable expression, your mind rewinds—

The way he volunteered so quickly. The way his smirk was so sure. The way he didn’t flinch when you sat in his lap, like it was something he’d already imagined.

“…Oh.”

Law scoffs “Oh.” He shakes his head “Unbelievable.”

You open your mouth, then close it. What do you say to that? Your heart is racing, your stomach flipping, and now the man you just kissed is standing here, practically admitting—

“You’re really bad at picking up signals” Law mutters, rubbing his temple.

You gape at him “Well, sorry for not assuming one of the most wanted men in the world has a thing for me!”

Law chuckles, low and amused “You think I care about that?”

You stare at him “…Do you?”

His expression softens, just slightly “Not when it comes to you.”

Oh... Oh!

Your heart does a whole circus act. You suddenly feel too warm, despite the night air.

“You…” You take a breath “So you—”

“I like you, y/n.”

Your world tilts.

The words are so direct, so Law, that you can’t even doubt them. He’s looking at you with that sharp, unwavering gaze, like he’s already dissected every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters.

You can’t breathe.

“…Since when?” you whisper.

Law shrugs, looking away for the first time “A while” then, quieter, “Long enough.”

You swear your heart might explode.

A gust of wind brushes past, rustling your hair. You barely register it. Because Law just confessed to you, and you’re standing here like an idiot, trying to reboot your entire existence.

But then, slowly (so slowly) a smile creeps onto your face.

“Guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

Law huffs a quiet laugh “You said it, not me.”

You roll your eyes, stepping closer “You could’ve just told me, you know.”

His lips twitch “Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. This stupid, stubborn, brilliant man.

Without thinking too much, you reach out and grab the front of his coat, tugging him down slightly. His eyes widen, just for a second, before you lean up and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Law goes completely still.

When you pull back, you raise an eyebrow “That one wasn’t a dare.”

Something in Law’s gaze flickers. Then, very quietly—

“Good.”

And before you can react, he tilts your chin up and kisses you for real.

It’s not like the kiss from before. That one was brief teasing, this one is deliberate. It’s firm and slow, like he’s making up for every second he’s held back. His hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You barely have time to process anything before he pulls away, lips just barely brushing yours as he murmurs...

“That one wasn’t a dare either.”

You laugh breathlessly “No kidding.”

Law smirks “Took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling “Shut up.”

And maybe, just maybe, this victory celebration turned out way better than you expected.

[senseandaccountability]

HR department romance plots

I just… beyond the surface level of enjoying a new game with new relationship dynamics to explore, I really can’t feel much about the DAV companions or their romances.

They all just seem so disconnected from the story, from Rook (who in turn is entirely disconnected from all kinds of feelings because Rook is just Employee Of the Year), from the world, from themselves. I feel like Cole here, looking at them and saying in my gentle, fleeting voice: even the dwarves don’t really remember dwarves. It really feels like the interpersonal relationships are written by the HR person who sits with you as union rep to tell you that you should use a positive language, that "we are all simply employees here, it doesn't matter what title you have", give a little pep talk about teamwork and how to get the job done. That's what we're here for. Everyone's equal. We all want the same thing here, your boss is your friend. Have you tried talking to this person, see their side of things, mmmm? It's just... yeah, they're cute, all of them. But why do they like each other? Why do they want to be with Rook? Who are they even in relation to the world of Thedas, what do they believe in, what have they overcome, what do they hate, what sort of prejudices do they carry around? I have no idea.

And since I’m also replaying DAI again, I wanted to compare these romances to my canon romances in DAI.  With Blackwall, you immediately get a sense of attraction and a sort of flirting on his part that suggests this is something he falls into quite easily - “you know a lot about girls” to quote Cole - BUT it’s also something he really, really thinks he shouldn’t be doing now. Why? He is tied to the Warden plot, if you bring him along you get a sense of a man hiding shit but you don’t really understand what, and he still comes to see you (flying/climbing up your balcony wall idk) because he can’t step away. You get to tell him he’s a good man even though you know shit about that at this point, like with Anders in DA2 you can give your PC over to this passion/love despite knowing that there’s something off, something potentially harmful or dangerous. There is conflict, there are things that jar, that can even make you uncomfortable. 

Blackwall as a character is open and compassionate. He approves of mercy, shows mercy, he isn't judgmental of others. In sharp and delicious contrast Blackwall’s crime is vile. He isn’t bound by any sort of oath, he can back down, there is no greater good whatsoever in his actions. It’s inexcusable. And yet. YET. You can CONTINUE THE ROMANCE. He killed a wagon full of kids, THEN RAN AWAY AND LET HIS MEN TAKE THE BLAME and hates himself so much that he tries to become someone else by erasing his previous self from the face of the earth. You can still kiss him and tell him you want him to live and redeem himself. It’s fucking incredible to think about this in the light of Veilguard actually. Your LI, the child murdering coward. 

With Iron Bull you have the doubts all spread out on the table. He’s a spy, how could you ever trust him? He also doesn’t respond to your flirting, why the hell not when you hear through ambient dialogue that he’s fucking half the chantry, isn’t he supposed to be a fuckboy? But he’s fun, he’s a mystery, he’s got fascinating banter with everyone, he’s brought his found family along, he’s a Qunari who at least somewhat believes in the Qun - he’s got AMAZING conversations with Solas that characterizes Bull as deeply intelligent (and Solas as much more caring than he’d let on) and knowledgeable about surprising things like architecture. Cole, as always, gives us more insight into Bull’s mind along the way and even before the offer to ride the Bull, the idea of him has been through some adjustments. You change his idea about a lot of things and in return, Bull challenges your idea of him, your idea of the Qun, your idea of the world and possibly, depending on how you react to his romance, your idea of intimate relationships. The game’s writing allowed me to imagine a rather frumpy circle mage in her mid 30s reluctantly forming a friendship with this strange fellow, only to find herself very much attracted to him, only to find herself being cared for in a way she would never have let anyone do before simply because Bull told her that was the only way he’d be with her. This is how we’ll do it, are you in? Your LI, the service top Qunari spy who is terrified he’ll run mad without his belief system to dictate his actions. 

And Solas. I mean mythical love stories culminating in mythical endings aside, what I really fell for in this relationship was the refreshing dynamic not of enemies to lovers but of two souls just sort of connecting instantly during strange events, taking a few hard looks at each other and going oh shit it’s you, you get me HOW is it possible you get me when nobody else does? There’s so much external drama surrounding them, which is why I personally LOVE and ADORE how calm their internal connection actually is. They know, so early in the game, that this is it. You’re my home, you understand the bones of me, you ask questions no one else thinks of asking, you care about the world in a way I haven’t seen anyone else do. He is LITERALLY the only one who understands your Lavellan when they make her the herald, when she protests and they keep pushing and pulling and sing their song after Haven, and Solas is there to be sarcastic about it. If nothing else, I'd fall in love with that. And there’s this sense of impossibility from the very beginning, a sense of it being almost unreal because the first kiss is in the Fade, the second is in a frenzy where Solas goes from 0 to I LOVE YOU, MY HEART and then leaves and you know, you know how this is coded and YET - he seemed so wise and kind and sad, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth. And even with this connection of souls, things chafe - he’s an absolute bastard about certain things, he mocks your heritage and you don’t know yet that it’s because a huge guilt blanket rests on top of him since thousands of years back, you can just argue back and receive his disapproval. He says it’s selfish of him to start anything with you yet he does - WHY DO YOU DO THAT, SAD EGG? Your LI, the ancient god of rebellion, treachery and lies, depending on the story. 

Even beyond my favourites, there are conflicts. Sera is A LOT (affectionate) if you're an elf, with Cullen you get a substance abuse story-line tied to his general dismay about his past as a really fucked up templar, Dorian has personal trauma and cultural prejudice he struggles with for the entire game, Vivienne is so complex half the fandom hates her and has very awkward and uncomfortable banters with almost everyone (save for Bull because he treats her like he would a tamassran), Cassandra is constantly challenged in her personal beliefs, very clearly reflected in her conversations with Solas and Cole has a whole personal plotline about deeply existentialist matters. What does it mean to be alive? Who is a person and who gets to decide that? He could have been a person, Varric says. Isn't he already? Does this unit have a soul? Not to mention that Cole functions chiefly as a speaker of truths, bringing a lot of complexity to the others. 

DAI is not perfect by any means but I feel like I know these bastards. I feel like my PC or even I could actively dislike some of them, because they are written to create dynamic conflicts inside and outside of their own arcs. I can write fic about them, I can imagine what they're doing during the events of DAV because I know them.

Because they are written like actual people in a world where some people have power over others and some people have been raised with a certain belief system and some people just have shitty takes on society, may they learn. 

[syrecjh]

─ ✧˖°.🪐 Protector Since Day One

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🎀་༘࿐

From the moment you two met, he was your shield. Even before the word “friends” could form in your minds, little Katsuki Bakugo had already decided you were his.

It’s funny how, from the very beginning, Katsuki Bakugo was always the one to stand up for you. The first time you remember him stepping in was during preschool, on a day that seemed like any other. You were just sitting there, minding your business, in the sandbox, building your little sandcastles. Maybe you were too shy to speak up for yourself, or maybe you just didn't want to make a scene, but there was that one kid—bigger than the rest, with a grin that said he knew no better than to pick on someone who seemed too soft.

He threw sand at you. You froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. But then you heard it.

“Don’t mess with her, or I’ll mess with you!”

It was a voice full of pure, undiluted rage—and it came from a small, fiery boy in the distance. You turned and saw little Bakugo storming toward the bigger kid, his fists clenched, his face already twisted into a scowl that seemed to warn the world to stay the hell out of his way.

And just like that, your world changed.

The bigger kid immediately backed off, the challenge too fierce to face. Bakugo was practically a walking storm. And in that moment, it wasn’t just about protecting you; it was about claiming you as someone his to look out for. From that day forward, everyone knew one thing: don’t mess with her, because he won’t let you.

You could see it in the way he looked at anyone who dared to get too close to you, or even look at you the wrong way. There was a quiet fury that bubbled under his surface, and somehow, without needing to say a word, he could make them understand: You mess with her, you mess with me.

You’d tease him for his rough edges, the way he hated people touching his stuff, his need to always keep everything just so. And while he’d roll his eyes at you, shove you away with a muttered, "Tch, annoying," you never once felt any less than special in his eyes. You were allowed to annoy him. You were allowed to invade his space. You were the one person who could poke fun at him, touch his things, and get away with it.

But the second someone else even thought about crossing a line, Bakugo was right there. Whether it was some kid at school teasing you, or someone in high school making cruel remarks, he didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t need to. Bakugo would march straight up to them, eyes blazing, and make it clear that they were the ones who had messed up.

You remember the countless times you’d watch him, mouth set in a grim line, as he walked toward someone who’d dared to make you feel small. You’d think to yourself, “Oh no, here we go again,” but deep down, you also knew it would be over just as quickly as it had started. You didn’t have to worry. Because Bakugo never left anything unfinished.

“Say it again. I dare you.”

His voice was rough but calm, and the person, whoever it was, always seemed to crumble under the weight of it. They didn’t have the courage to face him, and they certainly didn’t have the guts to make you feel bad again. Every time Bakugo would turn back to you after, his expression wouldn’t soften, not exactly—but you could see it in his eyes. There was a flicker of pride. He had protected you.

But it wasn’t just the big moments. It was the small ones too. The quiet ones. The ones no one saw. He would always be by your side in the lunchroom, sitting next to you with his usual scowl, but his presence was like a fortress. His arm would rest casually on the back of your chair, and though he wasn’t one for showing emotions in front of others, you could tell by the way he stared down anyone who even thought about looking at you for too long.

And even if he was acting like he didn’t care about the details, Bakugo always noticed. If you were too quiet, too lost in thought, he'd slide a snack over to you. If you didn’t finish your lunch, he'd make sure you did, even if it meant grumbling about it. His way of taking care of you, without saying a word. It was always in the little gestures that you’d realize how much he truly cared. You never had to ask for it, because he was already doing it. Always keeping an eye on you. Always keeping you safe.

The moments when someone would try to make you feel less than, try to take away your confidence—it was like Bakugo had an invisible radar for it. No matter how much you told him you didn’t need his protection, no matter how much you tried to handle things on your own, Bakugo never stopped. He’d swoop in, already knowing you needed him.

You remember the prom, a night that started off lighthearted, but one where someone decided to get touchy to you. You didn’t even get the chance to react and called the guy off when you heard him utter this words:

“Touch her again, and I swear to God…”

He was already there, his usual scowl now a dark storm that seemed to move the crowd aside. The offender’s apology was instant, almost panicked, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort. He wasn’t just protecting you from others—he was protecting you from feeling hurt in the first place. The words didn’t even matter anymore. What mattered was that Bakugo had your back, no matter the situation.

And even after all those years, the bond remained the same. You still felt it. Even in the way he held your hand as you walked home, as if he were letting everyone else know that you were his and he was going to make sure no one ever messed with you. And though he never said the words out loud, you knew. The promise was always there. He would always protect you.

“Don’t mess with her,” he’d say to anyone. His voice would be calm, but there was that unmistakable fierceness in it. It was the same promise he’d made years ago, and it still held, unshaken by time.

From the sandbox to high school, to whatever came next—Bakugo’s protection never faltered. And every time you’d catch him watching out for you, you’d smile to yourself, knowing that this fiery, stubborn boy had been your protector since day one—and he always would be.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🎀་༘࿐

[woollypoison]

Lia miniseries: The last time

Itzy Lia x m reader a/n: go stream gwbg Word count: 16.5k words

The music is loud, but not loud enough. This place smells like sweat and cheap alcohol, the exact same mixture you can find at any college party. People shout over each other, cups crinkle under people’s dancing feet, and everyone is touching everyone.

You should be enjoying yourself, but even the loudest distractions can’t prevent your eyes from being locked on to Lia.

She stands near the edge of the room, far away from the life of the party, arms crossed, tears swelling in the corners of her eyes but refusing to spill over. Her boyfriend—the eternal class act that he is—leans in close, probably spouting some bullshit. His expression is all smooth confidence, but hers is hurt. You don’t need to hear what he’s saying. You already know. You saw him, lips on another girl, bodies flush against each other like Lia never existed in the first place. And now, he’s feeding her some excuse, no doubt in his mind that she will just swallow it like she always does.

But something’s different this time. She’s not buying it, and she’s not giving in. And then, just like that, he sighs, throws up his hands, and walks away. No fight, no desperation. He just walks away from her like she was never worth the effort.

You don’t even hesitate. No time to. She’s your best friend after all. You move.

Lia barely reacts as you step in beside her, but when you nudge her arm, she exhales, already privy to your antics. “Not now.”

“If it’s up to you, it’s not ever,” you correct. You don’t wait for permission. You snag a bottle of whiskey from the counter next to her and pop the cap. “Drink with me!”

She hesitates. She’s reluctant. “I don’t feel like drinking.”

“And I don’t feel like letting you mope tonight.” You take a swig straight from the bottle and hand it to her. It burns, but it’s bright and distracting. “Come on. When was the last time you lived a little?”

She eyes you, then the bottle, then you again. Something shifts in her expression—anger, defiance, something that reminds her of memories long buried. She snatches the bottle from your grasp and takes a drink. It burns, and she coughs, but she doesn’t hand it back.

You grin. “That’s the spirit!”

She scoffs through the coughs, but the corner of her lips twitch. “Shut up.”

You’re already scanning the party, looking for something to pull her out of her own head. There’s a group playing beer pong, hyping each other up like they’re at the Olympics. Perfect.

You drag Lia along with you, as you approach the would-be champions. Without warning, you grab a ball off the table and line up a shot. The guy who was about to throw blinks at you. “Dude, what the hell?”

You ignore him and flick your wrist towards victory. The ball arcs, bounces once, and lands straight into a cup. The crowd reacts with a mix of cheers and protests, but you don’t care. You turn to Lia, smirking with satisfaction, and hand her the next ball. “Your turn.”

She stares at you. Her body is shrinking, and it looks like she might retreat into her shell. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re up.”

Lia glances at the crowd watching, the challenge hanging in the air. She looks at you, your smile going from one ear to the other encouraging her to partake. She takes a deep breath, takes the ball, straightens her shoulders, and throws. The ball drops into a cup flawlessly.

The room erupts. The guy whose game you interrupted throws his arms up in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lia doesn’t gloat. She just picks up the cup, downs the beer inside, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand like she’s been doing this her whole life. Then, she looks at you.

You whistle. “Damn.”

She smirks. “What can I say?”

You step in close, voice level adjusted to be just for her. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

She exhales, something loosening in her. “Yeah. It kind of is.”

But you’re not stopping here.

You scan the room for the next move. You spot it, your next target—an old speaker, unattended and inviting on a counter, playing the same overplayed pop song. With Lia in tow, you stride over and connect your phone. The music cuts off, and a few people groan, but you just open your library and hit play.

A completely different song blasts through the room. Something more obscure, something wilder.

People react immediately, some booing, others cheering. Lia’s eyes react instinctively. “Wait, this song—”

“You like this song,” you fall in, leaving no doubt about the reason for your choice.

She laughs, the sound light, unburdened but restrained. “I do.”

“So dance.”

She hesitates, but you grab her hand, spinning her once. She stumbles into you, laughing despite herself. The party moves on around you, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you, caught in your own little world.

You can see it on her face. For the first time tonight, Lia isn’t thinking about him.

But the moment shatters. Your efforts were beginning to bear fruit, but they were spoiled too soon.

From across the room, he approaches. Her boyfriend’s voice, loud and annoyed, pierces the carefully crafted atmosphere. “Lia, what the hell are you doing?”

You don’t even have to turn to see him pushing his way through the crowd, eyes locked on her, clenched fists like he was preparing for a fight. The fun, the freedom, it all fades from existence, from her face—hesitation, guilt trying to creep back in.

Not this time. You’ve seen it happen countless times before now.

You lean in close, voice out her boyfriend's reach. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looks at you, uncertain of it all.

Then, her boyfriend calls her name again, sharper this time, as if she’s making another mistake. But she knows better.

Lia grabs your wrist in her first act of defiance. “Let’s go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You let her lead you outside the house, but once outside, the roles reverse. You don’t let her pause, let her stop here. Instead, you take her even further away from the party to the first and best thing your mind can think of.

The arcade is alive with flashing neon lights, the chaotic symphony of electronic jingles and mixed reactions filling the air. You shove a few bills into the token machine, spilling a handful into your palm before tossing a few to Lia. She catches them like it’s a practiced act, but her expression is skeptical.

“You seriously dragged me to an arcade?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at your great escape.

“You seriously gonna tell me you’re too cool for this?” You grin, nudging her towards the air hockey tables. “Come on, we’re settling this once and for all. Air hockey. I used to smoke you all the time. Loser gets a punishment.”

Lia chortles, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind her eyes. “You’re on.”

You pick your table, and from the second the puck drops, it’s war. Lia is fast, but her shots are wild. She misses easy blocks, fumbling the paddle once, but she’s so caught up in the fun she doesn’t notice how you start easing up, letting her slip goals past you. When she scores the final point, she throws her arms up, victorious.

“Destroying you has never felt better,” she teases, gloating as if she just settled a lifelong rivalry.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Alright, alright. Fair’s fair. What’s my punishment?”

She taps a finger against her chin before smirking. “Close your eyes.”

You sigh but comply. You’re not a sore loser, not after choosing to be one. A few moments later, she presses a cold can into your hands. You pop it open and take a sip—immediately regretting it. “What the hell is this?!”

Lia bursts into laughter. “Carbonated milk. Consider it payback.”

You sputter the concoction, wiping your mouth of its filth. “That’s foul.”

Her grin is as proud as it was mischievous. “Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. You’ve missed this. Missed spending time with her. “Alright, let’s move on. I’m winning you something.”

You drag her to the claw machine, and she crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Please, these things are rigged.”

“Not when you’ve got my skills.” You crack your knuckles, putting on an exaggerated show of focus as you deftly maneuver the claw. Lia observes your performance, still skeptical, until the claw actually snags onto a small stuffed bear and holds on long enough to drop it into the chute.

You scoop it out and hand it to her, the bravado of a man who won a teddy bear ten times the size you just had. “Told you.”

She takes it, eyes softer than before. “I… didn’t think you’d actually get it.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She holds the bear against her chest for a moment before stuffing it into her bag. “Alright, I’ll admit. That was kind of sweet.”

“Kind of?”

She rolls her eyes in the same mock annoyance she must have learned from you. Or was it you who learned it from her? Either way, she doesn’t argue any further.

Eventually, you both step out of the arcade looking for your next distraction, the night air cool against your skin. Lia stretches her arms over her head, exhaling. “Alright, what’s next?”

You glance around, spotting a near-empty grocery store parking lot, an idea sparking in your mind. A childish smile spreads across your face. “I think I see our next challenge.”

Lia follows the direction of your gaze to an abandoned shopping cart and lets out an incredulous laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, come on. You trust me, right?” Your rebuttal is tempting, tempting enough to get her to hum as she considers it.

She shakes her head but, to your delight, climbs into the cart. “Alright. Just don’t kill me.”

You take a running start, the wheels rattling as you push her through the empty lot. Lia shrieks high pitched and filled with life, clutching the sides as you pick up speed, laughter bubbling past her lips. It’s reckless and stupid, but it feels good—feels free.

When you finally slow down, she’s breathless, her face suddenly inches from yours. She doesn’t move away. You don’t want to either.

The cool air becomes heavy, something new unraveling in the little distance between your eyes.

Before you can say something you didn’t stop to think about, Lia clears her throat and looks away. “We should—keep going. What’s next?”

You nod, shaking off the moment just as easily as it came. “Let’s go find something else to conquer.”

You end up outside a rundown photo booth near an old convenience store, its flickering sign barely hanging on. The joy on your face says everything Lia needs to know. She eyes it, then you. “Seriously?”

“Come on. Gotta commemorate the night somehow!”

She huffs, exhaling air through her nose in a quick burst but follows you inside. The cramped space forces you close, her shoulder pressing into yours as she scoots barely into frame. The first flash goes off as she makes a face, sticking her tongue out.You paint a big smile on your face for the picture, throwing an arm around her to pull her into the frame for the next one.

Then, right before the third flash, you can feel Lia’s body tense up against yours. She’s planning something. She looks at you, really looks at you, before smirking mischievously. You can’t help but wonder what prank she has planned to pull on you, but you’ll let it happen nonetheless. Cheering her up was worth it all.

And then, instead of some grand, over-the-top stunt, she does something quieter. She leans in, sliding deeper under your arm, her head resting against your shoulder. Her fingers interlock with yours, and she doesn’t let go.

The camera flashes.

You glance down at her, your chest squeezing tighter then when you were pushing her around in a cart. She doesn’t say anything, just stays there, close, warm. The playful air shifts—becomes something calm.

She doesn’t move away, doesn’t laugh it off. Just holds your hand a little tighter, waiting. You rub your thumb over hers. It’s soothing. You’re just friends. You had never even considered Lia as something else. But what if…?

The next flash of the camera captures the sudden stillness, the quiet storm brewing between and inside of you.

You let out a breath, finally looking away. “Come on,” you murmur, squeezing her hand once before standing. “I know where we can go next.”

As you step out into the night, Lia doesn’t let go of your hand right away. She lingers, thumb brushing against your skin before finally, hesitantly, letting it slip away. Neither of you comment further on it.

After a few moments of walking in silence, you glance at her. “You remember the old jungle gym?”

She blinks, then lets out a soft laugh. “From middle school? The one we used to sit at, talking about nothing for hours?”

“Exactly, that’s the one! Haven’t been there in years.”

Lia tilts her head, considering. Then she smiles, a green light signal to go ahead. “Let’s go.”

You climb to the top of the jungle gym together, the city humming in the distance, but here, beneath the stars, everything feels still.

Lia stretches out, staring up at the sky absentmindedly. “It’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this.”

“What? We used to climb this thing all the time.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, not that! Just… let go like this.”

You watch her, the way her hair falls against the worn metal, the way the moonlight catches in her eyes. “We used to do that too all the time,” you remind her. “Back when we had nothing better to do than waste time here.”

She smiles faintly. “Yeah. Before everything got… complicated.”

You don’t say anything, only offering a smile that reaches half of your lips. You just watch her as she rolls onto her side, propping herself on an elbow facing you. “Why are you doing this?” she asks suddenly, eyes searching yours as if they’ll provide the answer.

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“This.” She gestures vaguely around her and towards you. “Dragging me around, making me forget about him.”

Your throat tightens. You think about saying something inflammatory about her boyfriend, but don’t even want to let a thought of him taint this place. “Because I hate seeing you like that.”

She studies you, her gaze flickering over your face. She looks down. Her smile is small but real. Like she’s happy she’s here now, but already mourning the fact that it won’t last. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s easy when you’re with me.”

When you’re starving, and you have a bite, you only end up craving more. That same hunger is consuming Lia right now. She’s feasting on this moment, indulging in every reckless, fleeting moment like she's been starving for it. Watching her like this, so alive, enjoying each minute she has—you can’t help but feel the hunger too.

It quickly gets overtaken by quiet, only interrupted with the creaking hush of the metal under your combined weight and the cricket-thick dark all around. Then Lia speaks, softer still: “Do you think I made a mistake?”

You turn on your side so you’re facing her, knees drawn up, hands dangling in between them. “Yeah, I mean, you should have dumped that guy ages ago.”

She makes a face and you know you deserve it. “No, not that. Just—leaving like that. Walking out.” Her voice is directed away from you. She sounds ashamed to even be asking the question.

“Honestly?” You lean back against the cold rail, letting your head tip to watch the sky. It’s easier to be honest that way. “Nah. If anything, you should’ve gone harder. Made a scene. Gone full dramatic. Hell, even kiss someone else in front of him. Get even.”

“Yeah, because you know me as the type to kiss random dude at parties.” She’s grinning, a little, but she clearly thinks you’re ridiculous.

“Not random,” you say, and waggle your eyebrows. “I could’ve volunteered.”

She laughs, easy and bright, the sound running up your spine like a dare. “Oh, right,” she says, “Because that wouldn’t have made things weird between us?”

“Sure. It could have.” You nudge her with your shoulder. “Or you could have totally fallen for how good I am with my tongue.”

She hums, draws little circles on the chipped paint with her finger. “Yeah, well, maybe I should have. But I’m warning you, you’re the one that would end up smitten with me, not the other way around.”

You chuckle in response, but you don’t think you can say much more without fully tipping your hand, and this night isn’t about you.

You let the silence settle again. Can’t keep yourself from looking at her in it, and the way she looks at you makes you think you should stop joking around and actually fall for her. Just give in.

She just sighs when you don’t. You’re not sure if it’s because you don’t or some other reason that has yet to reveal itself. “I’m hungry.” The likely answer is that she’s just hungry, then.

You slide down the bar so you’re parallel to her, feet dangling above the mulch. “Let’s get pancakes. I know a great diner, within a diner’s capacity to be great.”

She sighs again, this time with more drama. “I’m also exhausted. Like, terminally. What if I can’t make it to the diner? Will you leave me here to be eaten by raccoons?”

You give her a look, one eyebrow up. “Do you want me to carry you or something?”

Lia scrunches her nose. “That’s so childish.”

“You’re right,” you say solemnly. “Better to perish on the mulch.”

She smacks your arm, but she’s smiling. “You won’t make it a block.”

You position yourself in front of her, crouching, arms out. “Now I need to prove myself.”

She hesitates just long enough for you to think she’s going to refuse, but then she’s climbing onto your back, arms slung around your neck. She is lighter than you expect, which is nothing to start with, all angles and heat and the faint citrus of her shampoo. “Don’t drop me,” she says, but there’s laughter in her ear, right by yours.

“Only if you don’t give me a reason to,” you say, and start down the sidewalk, Lia’s breath hot against your cheek.

The first step makes her arms grip your neck so tight you nearly choke. You consider dropping her then, but you have a reputation to uphold. Eventually, you manage to start up a rhythm that allows air into your lungs despite Lia’s best attempts. Her thighs clamp around your hips, and you can’t help but think that the last time you carried Lia like this, she didn’t have tits pressing into your back. It’s distracting. Every few feet, Lia shifts to keep from sliding, and every time she does, her body presses tighter into yours.

“You’re struggling,” she teases, but it’s breathless.

“Having less issues with the carrying than I’m having with your bratty comments,” you shoot back, and she pinches your ribs hard enough to make you yelp.

It’s only a seven-minute walk, but you are both panting when you spill into the fluorescent refuge of the twenty-four-hour diner, giggling like absolute idiots. A bored waitress barely looks at the two of you as you enter and drop Lia onto a vinyl booth seat before climbing the seat across from her.

You try to stifle your body’s reaction to the feeling of her hips and chest now that it's in vision of her, as you focus on the menu. Lia’ is already tracing the patterns on the scarred tabletop, her mind drifting towards what to say.

“So,” you say, when the pancakes arrive. “Why did you stay with him this long?”

She stares at her pancakes, then the syrup bottle, then you. Her mouth twitches. “He made me feel wanted, I guess. Like, he paid attention to me. Like I was—” She shakes her head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” You’re gentler now, picking up her wrist and tracing the raised vein with your thumb. “But you’re still allowed to be pissed. Or sad. Or both.”

She shrugs, but she’s not pulling away. “He was hot. That was probably part of it. And he was so, I don’t know, confident? Like, he’d just do shit and not care what anyone thought. I always cared too much.”

You cock your head. “You ever think maybe you liked him because you wanted to be like that? Like, less afraid.”

She chews her lip. “I guess so. But his reason for not being afraid was because he didn’t care about anything. There’s a difference.”

You nod. “Yeah, you actually give a shit. Which is why you might be the only decent person left on the planet.”

She laughs, but then her eyes go soft and wet. “That’s so sappy. You’re sappy.”

You stick out your tongue and make a face, syrupy affection and all. "I am what you need me to be."

She chuckles, shakes her head with her eyes closed, and goes back to her pancakes. You do too.

For a second or two, and then you’re back to making sure she doesn’t get in her own head. You have a mission, after all. 

“C’mon,” you say, “you gotta give me something better than ‘he made me feel wanted.’ There had to be stuff you hated about him.”

She doesn’t answer right away. You watch her work through it, chewing each word. “Sometimes I felt like… a prop. Like, I fit into his world, but he didn’t really care what I was thinking. Or what I wanted.” She looks up, eyes somber and level. “You ever get that?”

You nod. “Yeah, with my parents. Or group projects. Or… you know, every time I’ve ever hooked up.” You regret it as soon as it’s out of your mouth. Lia’s eyes spark with curiosity. “Wait, you’ve hooked up? You don’t just—” she gestures at your outfit, at your face, “—go to your classes, eat lunch with your less attractive friends and then go home and read books?”

You snort. “Nah. I’m a total slut, actually. I just don’t tell you because you’d judge me.”

She leans in, elbows on the battered Formica. “I would be so proud of you if I weren’t jealous, actually.”

You swallow, hard. That’s a lot to process. “Good to know. But that’s not the point. The point is, you deserve more than being some guy’s prop.”

Her plate gets pushed aside, her chin now resting on her hand like a flower. “Can I ask you something embarrassing and you promise to not laugh?”

“Sure.”

“Does it make me pathetic that the thing I’m most mad about is that he never once went down on me?” She says it low, but not embarrassed. Just quietly furious.

You almost spit coffee over the table. “Wait, never?”

She shakes her head, hair falling in her face. “Not even once. But I gave him blowjobs all the time.” Her eyes flick to yours, and she’s smiling, but her teeth are bared. “I’m good at it, too.” She tacks it on so nonchalantly you’re not even sure what to think.

Shock is evident on your face, and you can’t help but think about it. It’s not even your fault. “How do you… know?”

She shrugs, taking a sip from her coffee before giving her answer. “No gag reflex. Plus, I did all my research.” 

You nearly choke on your coffee. "Okay, before I get a stiffy in a worn down diner with all your bragging, why did he never go down on you?"

She shrugs, and speaks matter of factly like it’s normal. “Said he didn’t want to. That it was gross.”

You don’t even have to ask if she’s fucking kidding you, it’s written all over your face. “Wow. Not even once? Was he, like, afraid he’d have trouble finding the clit?”

The edges of her mouth corner upwards, tilting, and she’s thinking if she should or shouldn’t say. “Maybe? Who knows. All I know is I’ve given more head than a guillotine and never once—”

You hold up both hands, surrendering to the image. “Okay, okay, point made. But, for the record, that’s insane. You should sue for emotional damages.”

She giggles, then sobers. “I know. But it’s not even about the sex, really. It’s the principle. Like, why is it only okay when it’s for him? Because you should have heard how whiney he gets if I tried telling him no.”

You click your tongue. “It isn’t okay? Fuck that noise, you deserve so much better. Like, at the very least, a guy who knows what a clit is, where to find it and how to spell it with his tongue.”

She laughs hard at that, but her eyes glint. “You volunteering again, manslut?”

You make your face very solemn, steeple your fingers like a cartoon therapist. “Lia, as your friend, it is my sworn duty to ensure that you, specifically, are not denied any life experience. I’d take one for the team.”

She stares at you, a little wide-eyed. Is she considering it? The tension is steeped in it, and you’re trying to balance on top of it. She grins, slow and dangerous. “You would not survive me reciprocating the favor. And I always reciprocate.”

You lean in, close enough to feel her breath on your chin. “Please. I’ve never cum from a blowjob before, I doubt even you and your boundless talent could change that.”

She eyes you, pupils blown wide, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. “That sounds like a challenge.”

You rest your elbows on the table, interlacing your fingers and staring her down. “It’s not, Lia. It’s literally impossible.”

She leans in until you’re nearly nose to nose. “You think you could still say that after experiencing someone without a gag reflex?”

The heat that shudders up your neck is involuntary. You force a grin, deflecting with bravado. “Maybe. I’m just saying, it’s not for lack of opportunity.”

She cocks her head, lashes low, voice a purr: “So you’re saying you’ve had chances, but no one could get you off?” Her hand is on the battered edge of the table, three inches from yours. There’s a beat where she just watches you, then she slides her pinkie across, hooks it in yours. “That’s really fucking sad,” she says, and you get the sense she means it. “But not as sad as me, never even getting head.“

“Tragic, really.” Your mouth is dry but you keep your tone light. “Honestly, I think we’re both lost causes at this point.”

She leans back, stretches with her arms above her head, arching her back forwards, and it’s on pure instinct you suddenly notice her breasts pressing against the thin cotton of her shirt. Something shifted.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, it’s all too hot in the booth. “You know, I really don’t like people doubting the skills I’m confident in.”

Your foot, under the table, finds her shin. You graze it, just lightly, and feel the need to press her buttons some more. She doesn’t move away. “Fine,” you say, “you want to prove your skills or something?”

She laughs way too confident, her hands already in motion, eye contact established and unbroken as her fingers pull her hair back into a messy ponytail, exposing her neckline. “Sure! You want to do this here?” she asks, incredulous but not like it bothers her. It’s painfully obvious this should be a bluff. It should be.

You, bravest of cowards, glance around the diner. The waitress is behind the counter, scrolling her phone. There’s a guy in a hoodie two booths down, asleep with a plate of fries at his chin. The world is asleep or indifferent. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

You nearly choke. “You wouldn’t.”

She arches a brow. “You don’t think I will?” You stare her down. “Not a chance.”

She slides out of the booth and stands, stretching like a cat in the sick diner light. Her gaze flicks to the denizens of the diner, and then back to you. “Bathroom. Five minutes. If you dare.”

You laugh, convinced there’s no way she doesn’t chicken out. “You’re bluffing.”

She shrugs like she’s already won, the fire in her eyes burning with something brave. “You really want to take that risk? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

You watch her saunter to the bathroom, legs crossing with each step, her hips swaying in a way she knows has you following her with your eyes. She doesn’t look back, but you can’t stop watching her go.

The first two minutes are spent waiting for her to return. The third minute is considering your possibilities. The fourth and fifth minute are spent realising you’re actually keeping track of the time. You slide out of the booth, your hands shaking inside the pockets you hide them in. This is a terrible fucking idea.

The optics aren’t great. Stepping in reveals two truths. One is that it is exactly as disgusting as you’d expect. Cracked tiles, a hand dryer that’s more sickly than anyone daring to touch it, and one overhead bulb casting a yellow light over it all.

The other is that Lia isn’t using the bathroom for its intended purposes, but was also checking her phone, waiting for you. She’s in front of the mirror. She meets your eyes in the reflection and she almost looks stressed that you did.

“You came,” she says, and instantly makes a face, regretting her choice of words.

You lean against the door, arms folded. “Yep. So, here we are.”

She spins to face you, hands bracing behind her on the sink. “Here we are,” she echoes, and the words hang between you, heavy with implication of what you’re both doing there

There’s a second—or a couple, or who knows how many—where you both wait for the other to chicken out, to call bullshit, to undo this and retreat to safety. Neither of you does though.

You clear your throat awkwardly, like this is your first time being in a tiny bathroom with your best friend you might have started developing feelings for when she’s about to prove to you she can make you cum from a blowjob. “You know, we don’t—”

She cuts you off, eyebrows raised at what she thought you would say. “Do you want me to?” She doesn’t look away from you though. She even forgets to blink, and that’s her tell. That’s how you know she’s shitting her pants, that’s she in way over her head, and that she’s hoping you’ll pull the plug so she doesn’t have to.

You think to oblige, a forced smile that is all too easy to read shows up on your face. “Don’t feel like you have to, you have nothing to prove to me. What do I know.”

She shrugs, digging the hole she’s stuck in a little deeper. “I want to.” She pushes herself up higher, sitting on the edge of the sink with more confidence than this kind of bathroom should allow, legs slightly apart, feet dangling off the edge. “Do you not want me to?”

Her cheeks are pink, even under the sickly yellow light. She’s not only messing with you—she’s also messing with herself. Testing if she can, testing if you would, the way she always does when she’s about to rationalize a mistake or say something she knows she shouldn’t. It’s a staple of hers at this point.

“I mean,” you say, “I don’t think I’d hate it? I’d probably like it. But I don’t think I’d cum from it.” Your voice is a little too honest, too floaty, and she catches it.

You get lost in looking at her for just a moment. Her knees slightly apart, the way her knuckles go white with how hard her hands grip the edge of the sink, the way her lips part every time she takes a breath.

You snap out of it and speak again. “Wait, Lia… are we really about to do this?”

She blinks, startled. For the first time since the challenge, the mask cracks and the real Lia steps out. Her face softens, small and vulnerable. “I—” She looks down, hands twisting together. “I don’t know. Are we?”

You exhale, relief and regret pouring out in equal measure. “I mean,” you say, “if somebody told me a week ago my best friend was going to try and deepthroat me in a public restroom, I would’ve called them a liar.”

She laughs, but the sound is threadbare. “Yeah. It’s kind of insane.”

You lean back against the cold cinderblock, arms crossed. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know?” The words feel stupidly sincere in the archipelago of dried vomit and mystery stains, but you say them anyway. “I mean it. If this is just… I don’t know, some kind of rebound performance review—”

She shakes her head, forceful. “It’s not. I just…” She trails off, and for a second she’s the same girl who used to triple-dog-dare you to eat glue, who overthought everything and then did it anyway. “I guess I wanted to see if I could be as spontaneous as you, for once.” She chews her lip, then lets out a nervous giggle. “But also, this bathroom is so gross I’m pretty sure I just caught tetanus from sitting on this sink.”

You hold up your hands, surrendering. “Yeah. Not like this. This is so—” You gesture around, taking in the cracked tiles and the ancient tampon machine stuck with a chewed wad of gum. “I mean, if we’re gonna do something dumb, shouldn’t we at least pretend it’s romantic?”

Her shoulders drop. She huffs a breath, then laughs. “Thank god. I thought you were gonna make me actually do it in here.” She rubs her palms over her jeans, eyes squinting in relief. “I was like, I will, but before we even kiss?”

You lean in. “For what it’s worth, if anyone was going to be the first to, uh, make me actually finish from that, I’d be honored if it were you.” You flick your gaze to her mouth, then back. “But not in a stinky diner bathroom, okay?”

She grins, genuinely this time, the tension breaking. “Deal. I’ll save the unwrapping of my talents for a more… prestigious venue.”

“Noted,” you say. You’re close enough now to see every fleck of gold in her irises, every ragged end of her ponytail. Something clicks into place in the air as you realise the implication of what you and what she just said. Technically, it could count as a confession. “But, uh. While we’re here—”

She doesn’t wait for you to finish. She grabs the front of your shirt and tugs you in, kisses you hard enough you nearly bruise your teeth on hers. It’s not romantic, not gentle; it’s hungry, desperate, tasting of syrup and coffee and the hours of wanting you both pretended didn’t exist. Her hands go straight to your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, and your hands find her waist, yanking her off the sink until her legs wrap around you.

You barely have enough sense to lock the door behind you before her mouth is on yours again, hot and insistent, her breath loud in your ear. 

You both pull back in sync, breath staggered and eyes wild, twitching to find each other. It takes a moment to understand what you just did. She’s breathing hard, laughing against your throat, her arms still cinched around your neck like she’s afraid if she lets go she’ll wake up in her old life.

“You did say you’d volunteer,” she muses, slightly raw. She tries to sound like she’s joking, but it catches in the back of her throat.

You nuzzle her ear and whisper, “And I don’t regret saying it.”

She snorts, the sound dangerously close to a giggle. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you’re such a good kisser for someone who only ever dated selfish morons,” you say, still holding her, still feeling her pulse through your joined bodies.

You both collapse into laughter again, and then, like nothing happened, she’s smoothing her hair back into place and you’re straightening your shirt, already conspiring over the next thing to do. You slip out of the bathroom, Lia a half step behind you, and return to your booth. As you pass the counter, you catch the waitress’s knowing smirk, but you don’t care.

You slide into the booth. Lia joins you on your side this time, thigh pressed to yours, close enough that it’s basically an admission of intent. She grabs a strip of bacon from your plate and chews it like she’s mad at it, her leg drumming against yours under the table. You can’t stop touching: knees bumping, hands fiddling with the same syrup bottle, pinkies hooking and unhooking. If anyone saw you, they’d assume you were already together, some weirdly codependent pair of lovebirds, and you suddenly get why people always accused you of being “basically dating, but not admitting it.”

You’re texting under the table, a quick message to your friend with the backyard pool and the parents who are never home: “still cool to use your pool? need to impress a girl, promise no one will drown.” He replies fast: “go wild, just don’t get anything weird in the water or be too loud. neighbors know nobody is home so they might call cops.”

By the time you’ve finished that thread, Lia has finished your pancakes. She wipes her mouth and leans back, looking at you bright-eyed. “You got any plans for what’s next?”

You smirk, already one step ahead. “You ever broken into a pool before?”

She raises a brow. “Isn’t that illegal?”

You shrug. “Only if you get caught. Besides, I think it’s a rite of passage or something.”

She hesitates, chewing her lip, and you wonder if you’ve overplayed it. But then she squares her perfectly ninety degree shoulders, grabs your hand, and says, “Fuck it. Let’s do something stupid.”

You grin, adrenaline blooming. “That’s the spirit.”

The walk is long, and you’re both too keyed up to say much. Lia swings your hand, humming a song under her breath, and you realize you’ve never felt more alive than right now, running through the dark with her, doing something so aggressively pointless. The house is a monster in the darkness, all big windows and a backyard made for rich kids’ parties. The side gate is exactly where you said, the latch loose. 

You sneak in, and Lia—in a surge of confidence—leads to the pool.

“This is so illegal,” she whispers, giggling as she steps out of her shoes.

You glance around, the no lights on in any of the houses. “Keep it down and nobody will call the cops. And even if they do, we look way too good to be criminals.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s already at the edge, and then she stops, frowning. “Wait,” she says. “We don’t have swimsuits.”

You look at her like you can’t believe it took her this long to realize. She takes you in, judging her a little, and then shrugs, defiant. “Fuck it. I didn’t walk all this way just to chicken out now.”

You agree, and this time, you take the lead. You start with your shirt, because, well, it’s easy. It only takes a second for it to be gone and be just the first of many fabrics strewn across the floor. The cold night air hits your skin, and you hope the pool’s heated.

Lia, meanwhile, is watching you. Her mouth is pressed into a firm line, arms folded over her chest like she’s caught between moving forwards and regressing.

“Don’t look at me as I undress, you perv,” she warns. “I mean it. You get even remotely creepy and I will drown you. And then tell everyone you had a microdick.”

The threat is so perfectly Lia you have to fight down a grin. You stand with your back to her, taking off your jeans with exaggerated, cartoon modesty. “You’re the one who made this weird.”

She snorts. “Need I remind you that my truth is having a sexual history of one person?”

You hear the soft scuffle of fabric. And now you’re the one making it weird. Your mind does a dangerous trick, imagining the sound in freeze frame: her pale skin catching moonlight, the careful way she’d cross her arms to peel off her shirt, the way she’d maybe even blush, even if you weren’t looking. You keep your eyes laser-focused on the pool, but your entire brain is on fire with the idea of Lia, naked except for the confidence she’s wearing like a new suit.

You hear her step up behind you, breathless. You don’t look. “Okay,” she says. “Count to three?”

You both count off, but on “two” she shoves you, and you hit the water in a flailing, gasping mess. She follows not long after, so close to your landing zone that you feel her feet brush you as you go under.

The water is cold, but not as cold as the outside air. As you surface, (sputtering, thanks to Lia) you hear her treading water not far from you. She’s laughing so much she can be found through echolocation. You dog-paddle closer, the splash of the water still too alive to make anything out under the waves and she holds up a hand, palm out.

She slicks her hair back, shivering, but her eyes gleam, catching you getting closer with your eyes clearly open. “Hey, no. That’s not enough. You have to swim with your eyes closed. Like, the entire time.”

You shake your head. “That’s insane.”

“Trespassing into some random person's yard is insane,” she says, grinning now. “Eyes closed, or you’re getting your dick twisted off.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, then roll your them (behind closed lids), floating backwards on your back, arms splayed. “If I drown, it’s your fault.”

She huffs. “I’m an amazing lifeguard. I know how to perform mouth-to-mouth.”

You drift a little, keeping your limbs extended to try and not drift into any pool edges. You think you can feel her watching you, and you know you can hear her moving away. She’s got something planned.

“You’re not looking, right?” she calls.

“Only if you’re not either,” you shoot back, the words a little louder than they needed to be. You, good boy that you are, keep your eyes shut, but something tells you she’s smirking. You can taste it in the air.

“Eh, I don’t think I agreed to that rule,” she answers, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, the way her voice is seeped in mischief. “Besides, you’re the one floating proudly with your dick above water like you’re trying to show off. I’m keeping everything nice and clean underwater.”

You blush, swearing at the way your body betrays you, heat blooming under your skin even though you’re half freezing. “You’re bluffing again, I know you wouldn’t look—”

“Wouldn’t look? Couldn’t help but look,” she nonchalantly intercepts, “I didn’t know you were packing. Isn’t it supposed to be tinier in cold water?” A beat passes where you’re lost for words. It’s still too generic, it’s a classic Lia bluff. “I half regret not taking care of that in the diner bathroom.”

You choke so hard on your own spit you almost dip under again. “You’re fucking with me.”

Her voice is lower now. “You wish I was. Also, you’re clean shaven. Didn’t expect that. Thought you were all hot and heavy for the vintage look.”

You open your eyes, protests be damned, and there she is, half-sprawled on the steps at the pool’s shallow end, arms propped behind her, legs out like she’s posing for a calendar. The moon catches on the water beading her skin, and for a second you’re sure you’re hallucinating her: you’ve never seen Lia look so open, so unguarded, so absolutely fucking beautiful.

She tilts her head. “I didn’t give you permission to look, pervert.” She stretches, toes pointed, and looks at you like you look at her. “But since you have, what do you think?”

You don’t have the words. You never have the words. You just swim closer, one hand out for balance, until you’re in front of her on the steps, knees bumping. “I think,” you say, “it’s taking everything I have to keep me from jumping on you.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s shivering, and you can’t tell if it’s the night chill or something else. “You’re such a dork.”

You risk it all. “Yeah, but I’m a hung dork.”

That gets her. She bites her lip, eyes gone dark and wild. “You’re such a slut.”

You haul yourself up onto the steps, water sluicing down your back, and she laughs as you nearly slip. “Careful there,” she says, softer now. “It’d be a shame if you broke your neck before I broke your little head problem.”

You pause, kneeling between her legs, and she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. You reach for her, she bites her lip, and it’s all culminating in skin touching and bodies trembling.

You look up. “You trust me?”

She laughs, but it’s honest and her gaze can’t keep up with yours. “Don’t fail me.”

Your hands slide up from her lower legs to her calves, cradling her hips, and the water makes it even easier to lift her. You stand, walking with the steps in the shallow end, carrying her above the water and she squeals right before you put her down on the edge of the pool. Perched on the concrete lip with her feet still in the water, and your head taking its place in between her thighs.

She’s clean shaven. She looks so fucking delicious and easy to devour you almost want to thank her boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend—for letting you be the first to get to taste this.

You rest your cheek against her thigh, and she goes very still.

You’re not expecting it to be so easy, how her legs melt open in invitation, how the scent and heat of her rolls over you like a sunrise. She’s blushing, hard, hands fidgeting on the concrete behind her, like she can’t believe you’re about to make her lose her mind.

You kiss the inside of her knee first, and her reaction is electric. She whimpers, softly, and it’s a promise of the sound she’ll make when you give her what she wants. You move up to her thigh, tasting chlorine and humid skin beneath it. Her eyes are wild, nervous with joy, unsure if she should stare at your eyes or your mouth.

She shudders with every touch, but her legs don’t close. Every inch you take, she parts them wider, pleading for you to continue, greedier to get her world rocked.

You glance up. “Stop me if you want.”

She shakes her head, breathless. “If you stop, I might cry.”

You slide higher up on her thighs, nudging her gently with your nose and lips, and her hands find their place in your hair where you wanted them all along. You let your tongue follow her horizon, and for a second, she goes so quiet you think you might have short circuited her. Maybe it’s internal water damage. But then she makes a soft, desperate sound, the kind of noise you can get addicted to.

So you do it again, and she does too. Then again, slower, letting your tongue linger at the place where her thighs meet her center, teasing the crevice where her legs meet her crotch with the tip of your tongue before finally letting yourself taste her for real.

She bucks up so hard you almost lose your grip. “Oh my fucking god,” Lia says, using her words for the first time since you started. “This is—shit, okay, fuck, okay, don’t—” she babbles, gasping, then giggling and going back to gasping again, like she can’t decide if this is so hot she should melt or so insane she can only laugh.

You break contact, looking up to her just to ask, “You good?” but she’s not having it, pushing your face back down like she’s needy for it, muttering, “Shut up, don’t please, you’re perfect, I’m just—”

You lap at her, soft at first, then harder, then you flatten your tongue and drag it in slow, deliberate circles around her clit, just to see what color she turns when she’s about to lose it. Her nails scratch at your hair, then her thighs, then the concrete. She’s so fucking unbelievable, shaded in the moonlight and the light coming from the pool. Her head is thrown back, her mouth wide open, Her tits peaking forwards, eyes squeezed shut towards the stars and her whole being is pink and wet and trembling.

You hum, sending a pulse up through her, and she shudders hard. “Are you—holy fuck, are you humming?” she asks, voice going all high and incredulous.

You pull back just enough to say, “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the full experience,” then dive back in, tongue working faster, pushing her closer and closer to the brink.

She’s full on babbling now, none of her usual slick responses, her guard fully down. “fucking fuck fuck, that’s—yes, this feels so fucking, fuck, fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare—” She’s stringing words, not making sentences, mewling and desperate.

You only hold on to the edge of the pool with one hand now, pushing two fingers inside her, and she makes a sound so high pitched you worry there’s more she’s yet to experience. Worry she might break.

“Do I feel that good?” you ask, the sound muffled against her skin.

She just nods, gasping, “The fucking best,” and you take it as motivation to draw this whole thing out.

You edge her, just a little, slowing down until she’s whining, then ramp up again, alternating fast and slow until she’s cursing at you, tears leaking out from the corners of her eyes. “You’re such an asshole,” she sobs, “just let me—”

You glance up, a wicked smirk on your lips. “You want to cum?”

“Please,” she whispers, voice gone small and desperate for air. “I’m not trying to become you, I need to—please—”

You look up. “What’s the magic word?”

She opens her eyes, glaring down at you through a curtain of messy hair. “I will actually murder you,” she says, but she’s grinning, and that’s all the permission you need.

You let her have it, then. Fingers, tongue, everything, all at once, relentless and hungry and absolutely shameless in how much you want to taste her finish. She’s not quiet, not even a little. The sound she makes when she finally comes is a full-body event, a yell that echoes off the water and the fence and probably into the neighbor’s bedroom. A small prayer goes out to not having them interrupt you.

She falls backwards, upper body limp as her legs shake so hard you keep them steady just to keep her from sliding into the pool. She lies there for what feels like longer than an orgasm could last, shivering and laughing and gasping, and you think about telling her she needs to be quiet. You could never.

When the air returns to her lungs in full, she pushes herself up by the elbows. Fully upright, and she cups your cheeks in her hands, pulling you up, but it’s more so you pushing yourself up. She kisses you, and you’re mixing her tastes in your mouth.

You keep yourself pushed like that until her pulse slows. Then she buries her face in your neck and whispers, “You have to do that again. Like, right now.”

You’re about to oblige when the neighbors backyard security light clicks on with a loud mechanical whine, flooding the deck with off-beat white-hot illumination. For a split second, you freeze, Lia’s body still limp on the concrete, both of you utterly exposed for every constellation above to take in.

She starts to laugh again, then clamps both hands over her mouth, eyes huge. “Oh my god, oh my god, we’re going to die—”

You grab the nearest towel, wrap it around her, and half-carry, half-drag her behind the pool shed. She’s not helping at all, still giggling uncontrollably, but you manage to get her sheltered, both of you pressed close, hearts pounding in sync.

For a minute, you don’t say anything. Just breathe together, trying to calm down. Then she whispers, “Best night of my life. Even if we get arrested.”

You kiss her on the forehead, no words, just hoping she gets the message to keep quiet. She doesn’t. “But like, let’s try not to?” she says, and you look at her like you’re trying, but she’s making it hard. “You know, cus I technically owe you a blowjob now.”

You’re stunned. It feels only minutes since you didn’t consider Lia a sexual being and now you’re whole beings on fire because of her. “You’re absolutely insane and insatiable,” you say, and her shoulders just rise and fall.

“What can I say? You liberated me. It’s your fault, with that damn mouth of yours.”

You peer out from behind the shed. The light is still on, but nobody’s come outside, so you motion for her to follow you back to the pool deck. You towel off, putting your boxers on backwards in your haste, and she does the same, wrapping her hair up in a makeshift bun.

You wait for the light to disappear, and when it does, she glances at the fence, then at you. “Should we go somewhere we won’t get a permanent record for if we get caught?”

You consider the options, then grin, because you already know where to go.

“Love hotel?” you suggest, the words a joke but also not.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Only if you pay for the good room.”

You salute. “What, you think I don’t want the best room available for when I celebrate my first time finishing with a blowjob?”

You escape, and walk through the sleeping streets. Your hands are entangled, no longer shy about what they want. Your clothes are messy. Who cares, they’ll be on the floor again in no time.

When you finally reach the love hotel, buried under all its glorious neon signs, you can’t help but get a little nervous. It’s easier to do things for Lia, but sitting back and having her take care of you feels dangerous.

She doesn’t seem to think so. She jumps on the bed and flops back, arms and legs spread like she’s trying to take up as much space on the bed as possible and failing at it.

You find enough space to crawl up next to her, and she turns her head to look at you, full of giddy joy. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“I think I’ve wanted this for a while now,” she grins, shy and proud swirling into one. “I just didn’t know if I could get here.”

You nudge her with your shoulder, smiling back. “Really? You’ve wanted to fuck your best friend in a love hotel for a really long time?”

She socks your upper arm, hard enough to sting, and you yelp. “Asshole. You know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the spot, “but I like hearing you say it anyway.”

She makes a face, then rolls onto her side, hair fanning over the hotel’s surprisingly clean sheets. “Fine,” she says, voice gone soft and hoarse. “I want you.” She looks at your mouth, then your eyes, then back to your mouth. “And not just tonight. I want… all of it. The weird, the stupid, the you.” Her cheeks pink up, but she doesn’t blink. “I want to be yours. And I want to do all the stuff with you that I was too scared to even ask for before.”

You just pull her in and kiss her, soft at first, then harder, until she’s clutching at you like she’ll float away if she doesn’t anchor herself in your skin. When you break apart, she’s smiling, all half-moons with her eyes, the way she used to when you’d stay up too late and make each other laugh until you were delirious.

You nudge her, voice low: “So, what now?”

She grins, a new wickedness there. “Now?” She rolls onto her side, mouth at your ear. “Now, I want you to lie back and let me suck your dick until you cum like you’ve supposedly never done before, and then, when you’re still all shaky and ruined, I want you to use that tongue of yours to fuck my clit up until I’m a groveling mess. Once your cock is ready for another round, and only after you’ve begged for it, I’ll let you fuck me. Dealer’s choice of how.”

You blink.

You can’t help it. The way Lia is talking—direct, filthy, like she’s trying to say every single thing that would make your pulse snap—is so far removed from the Lia you know it’s almost like you’re talking to a different person. Or maybe, just maybe, this is the real Lia, the one who’s been stifled for years by her self-obsession with being the “good one.” The “steady, reliable one.” Blinking turns into staring, and she picks up on it instantly. She turns inwards.

“Too much?” she asks, voice suddenly small, a hiccup of uncertainty behind the wildness in her eyes. Maybe the real Lia is somewhere in between all that, and there’s no point in trying to categorize it. Maybe, you just need to experience it.

You shake your head so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “No, I just… wow. I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you to talk like that.”

Her palm splays on your chest, like you just gave her permission to sink in, and in a way, you did. “You also still believe I don’t have it in me to make you cum with my mouth.” She glances up, searching your face for a response, a snarky remark, a stupid joke, but you miss the timing entirely. Too busy recalibrating your entire image of her.

You flop back onto the pillows, getting comfortable, stretching out in full anticipation. “Right. Do I need to beg for that too, or…?‘

She bites her lip with a smirk, shifting so she’s straddling your knees, and begins fully undressing herself. Even without the moonlight, she’s ethereal. “Don’t cum already,” she taunts, but if anyone could make you just from sight, it’s her. Then, she reaches for the edge where skin meets waistband of your underwear with both her hands.

She’s not slow about it at all. She yanks them down in one rough motion, laughing as it flies across the room. You help, taking off your shirt as well, both of you equally nude now. But only one of you is under attack. “God, it’s even bigger up close,” she crows, eyeing your dick up and down, and she’s such a loser about it that you want to bottle it forever.

She gets on her stomach, chin propped on your thigh, and looks up at you, resting her cheek on your hip. “You’re sure you want me to?”

You grab a pillow and stuff it behind your head, a throne for the king you’ve become. “If you don’t, I might actually die.”

“Noted,” she says, and then she wraps her hand around the base of your cock, squeezing lightly, and gives you a look that could set the room on fire. “Ready?”

You nod, speechless.

She starts at the bottom, tongue touching your balls, licking a stripe up the underside, eyes peering past your cock to yours, slow and deliberately showy, flicking her tongue as you realise how badly you underestimated her. She takes your head in her mouth. She won’t let you look away. Her hands are on your thighs, nails biting skin. She starts slow, then slides a little farther, lips tight and glossy around you.

She’s not kidding about the lack of gag reflex; she takes inch after inch until her nose is pressed against your stomach, then pulls back, hollowing her cheeks with a practiced, obscene pop. She repeats it, faster, then slower, then faster again, alternating pace like she’s reading a manual on your pleasure, waiting for you to flinch, to break, to do anything but bite your own knuckle and pray you don’t embarrass yourself.

It’s good—almost too good, actually. She’s not shy about it; there’s no over-the-top porn performance, just pure, unfiltered focus on the task at hand. You glance down, and you can see the pride in her eyes, the spark that says she’s not doing this for you, not really—she’s doing it for herself, to prove something about who she is on the other side of all that old inertia.

But after a minute, you notice she keeps pausing, glancing up, waiting for you to… what? Give her directions? Yell encouragement? It’s not what you expected at all.

She pulls off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Am I doing it wrong? You can… you can grab my head, if you want,” she says, a little breathless. “You’re allowed. I can handle it.”

You blink again, like she just suggested you recite the national anthem. “Why would I do that?”

She hesitates, uncertain. “Isn’t that what guys like? My ex always did that—like, he’d hold me down, or guide me. I figured you might want—”

You shake your head, reaching down to stroke her hair, gently, more to comfort than control. “Lia, you were going to make cum, weren’t you? I have no intention of using you to get myself to cum.”

She blinks, digesting this for a second, then lets out a tiny, nervous laugh. “Okay. That’s… weirdly nice. Not used to it.”

You smile, then, letting her see how much you mean it. “You’re in control. Seriously.”

She looks down, cheeks flushed, and then squares her shoulders. “Alright. But if you don’t cum, I’ll never forgive you.”

You have to laugh at that one, and try to make sure she does too.. “Balls are in your hands, sweetie.”

She does, and then goes straight back at it. There’s a silent confidence to it. Experimental rhythms, new techniques—twisting her tongue around, letting only her tongue linger until you’re about to lose your mind. She even tries humming, just to see what happens, and when you gasp, she grins around your cock, the vibration sending a pulse up your spine.

She doubles down, working your cock like she’s got something to prove to her universe (right now that would be you alone), and by the time she starts talking, you’re already lightheaded. 

“You’re so fucking hard,” she whispers, pulling off just enough to stroke you with her hand, tongue circling the tip like she’s painting it with precision. “God, I love how you taste. I want you to cum for me. Right in my mouth.” She breaks up the words with slow, deep sucks, gripping your thighs to pin you down when you start to squirm. “Bet you didn’t think you were going to blow your load in my throat tonight, did you?”

She moans, soft at first, then louder, so performative but fucking hot, not even a slightest hint of a gag. You moan too, can’t keep it in when she’s wrangling it out of you. Lia catches the sound, doubles down, then pops off with a wet, obscene slurp, catching her breath before diving back in.

You’re going to die. You’re going to die in a love hotel, and when they find your corpse, it will be smiling.

She alternates between deep, slow bobs that have you seeing stars and quick, greedy flicks of her tongue that make your whole body arch up off the bed. She’s methodical about it, as if there is some secret, sacred geometry to the way she works her hand and mouth in tandem. You watch her, rapt, as she salivates over you, hair falling out of its ponytail and sticking to her cheeks, her eyes darting up to check your expression every few seconds. It’s obvious she’s cataloging your every reaction and making little mental notes. Every time you twitch or gasp or say her name, she smirks just a little and doubles down.

You want to hold out, to prove you have some measure of control, but she’s relentless. You bite your forearm to keep from moaning loud enough for the whole building to hear, but she just laughs around your cock, wicked. You can feel the vibration all the way down your legs.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “I—if you keep doing that—”

She pulls off, making a mess of your lap, then kisses the tip lightly, eyes huge and wet and so fucking hungry. “What? You’re gonna cum?” she whispers. “That’s the whole point.”

Her throat makes you feel like you’re drowning in sweet honey.

She already knows you won. You’re not as unbreakable as you proclaimed. She’s just taking victory laps now. Losing track of the amount of times she brings you to the brink of painting her white and then backing off, her tongue ghosting and taunting you as she lets you calm down before she starts again.

Every tease lowers the time she has to pull back. She finally holds you there, right on the brink, and then—as the throbbing begins to signal the end—she pulls off, eyes never having left yours. Her lips are slick with spit, parted, and her tongue flicks delicately over the tip, collecting the drop of precum that’s already there.

“Do it,” she whispers, and then she takes you all the way in, nose pressed to your skin, hands gripping your thighs so you can’t move. You’re helpless to stop it; you groan, involuntary, loud enough to scare the birds off the roof.

You cum—hard, so hard it’s embarrassing, and the first spurt catches her off-guard, but she laughs and swallows, eyes crinkling into half-moons again, this time with victory. She powers through the second, the third, but by the fourth one she’s not ready, and it spills out over the corner of her mouth, streaming down your cock, pooling on your stomach. She keeps you in her mouth until you soften, then finally pulls off, licking her lips with a devilish little smile.

She pulls off, coughing a little, then wipes her chin with her palm, grinning like a champion. “Holy shit,” she says, “I did not know you could cum that much. Is that, like, normal for you?” Another string of cum ropes onto her wrist as she laughs, and with obscene showmanship, she licks it off, slow and deliberate. “You realize if you actually shot that up me, I’d probably be pregnant with triplets?”

You stare at her, still slightly dazed. “No, that was—fucking insane. You’re a goddess.” You’re still trying to recover, but she’s trying to prevent you from it. She’s busy leaning down, and her tongue tips out, licking your abs clean, not missing a single drop. And if that wasn’t enough, she takes your softened cock back into her mouth, sucking soft pressure on it, like she’s determined to get every hidden drop. When you beg, and you do, she sits up, opens her mouth wide, and vocalizes to show you how empty it is.

You stare, awed. “That was the best blowjob of my life. By, like, a factor of ten. I might have to marry you now.”

Surprisingly, that’s the point she finally breaks eye contact, pink-cheeked, and it's clear how little she expected that, even if she plays it off.

You reach for her, but she stops you with a palm to the chest as she ducks, suddenly bashful. “Wait—hold on.”

You frown. “Why? What’s wrong?”

She covers her mouth and looks at you like you’re an idiot for not getting it. “I’ll probably taste like, you know… you.”

Now it’s your turn to look back at her like she’s an idiot for not getting any of it. “And?”

She looks at you, then away, then back again, sheepish but not ashamed. “I mean, guys think that that’s gross, right?”

You blink. “Gross?”

She stares at her hands, twists the comforter between her fingers. “You know. Kissing after—” Her voice drops. “After giving a blowjob. My ex always said it was a turn-off. He wouldn’t let me kiss him, after.”

You sit up, propped on your elbows, and the look you give her is so incredulous it’s almost cartoonish. “That is, with all due respect which is none, the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe right now, I don’t give a shit if you taste a little like me.”

Her face turns bright red at the admission, and laughs, but a little shaky. Cute, but shaky. “That’s new. My ex used to make me go brush my teeth. Or at least rinse. Otherwise he’d, like, dodge me. Like kissing me after was…” She trails off, eyes shining. “You actually mean it?”

You grin, and pull her in, and she lets you. The kiss is messy, a little salty, a lot desperate, and as you taste yourself on her tongue you can’t help but think she tastes good no matter what. She opens to you, greedy, and you let her climb into your lap, hands in her hair, your own still trembling from the aftershock of her mouth.

She’s not even subtle about what she wants to happen next. In her defense, she did spell it out for you. She’s grinding down on your thigh like she’s asking you to feel how wet she is. Her lips are on yours, desperate, insistent, tongue chasing every last taste of you. She’s moaning into your mouth, open and honest in a way that makes you want to ruin her, or maybe just worship her, or figure out a way to do both. You realize she’s been holding back for hours, maybe years, and now it’s all coming out in the fevered way her hands are clawing at your back.

You break the kiss, just to breathe, and she chases your mouth, gasping, “Please don’t make me beg. Please?” and then devolves into a fit of giggles because even at the edge of a nervous breakdown, Lia is still Lia. Still the girl who’d dare you to eat glue, then do it herself just to one-up you. Only now, she’s out of glue and onto something infinitely more addictive: you.

You slide your hands down her back, over the curve of her ass, and she arches against you, body curving like she’s trying to become a permanent part of you. She’s still laughing, but it’s all breath and need, the sound a little unhinged. “What’s so funny?” you ask, voice low, half teasing.

She pants, “I just can’t believe we’re—” but then you’re kissing her again, and she forgets her sentence halfway through, hips jerking forward in search of more.

She’s so wet, you can feel it through your thigh, hot and slick and spreading, and every time you flex your quad it makes her gasp. “Oh my god,” she says, “I’m such a slut,” but she’s smiling when she says it, proud and wild and alive.

“Jesus,” you murmur, mouth at her ear. “How long have you been this wet?”

She rolls her hips into you, grinding shamelessly. “Since the diner,” she admits, breathless. “You kept talking about making me cum and I—fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You don’t want to tease this out any more than she does. You flip her, rolling her onto her back so fast the sheets threaten to tangle her up, and she shrieks in delight, hair fanning out behind her on the pillow like a halo. There’s a second where she just looks at you, all reverence and disbelief, and then she grabs your shoulders and pulls you down to her chest, wrapping her legs around your hips, locking you in.

She’s so open, so ready, it makes your head spin. You kiss down her neck, tasting the salt and heat, then down between her breasts, which she arches up for you like an offering. You take your time here, letting your tongue circle one nipple, then the other, and she’s whimpering, writhing, her hands never still as they alternate between your hair and your shoulders and her own mouth, like she can’t decide what she wants more: to pull you closer, or to muffle her own noises.

You work your way lower, kissing down her stomach, nuzzling your nose in the soft flesh just above her hipbone. She’s trembling now, and when you slide down between her legs, she whimpers, puppy-like, knees falling apart on either side of your head. This time, you don’t tease. You dive straight into the main course, finding her previously established weak spot, and making sure she gets all the rounds she needs.

It’s almost impossible how sensitive she still is, every lick causing her thighs to shudder against the sides of your head. But you want her ruined—so fuckign addicted to getting head that nothing else matters to her anymore—so you don’t let up, alternating between the blunt, relentless pressure of your mouth and soft, delicate circles with the very tip of your tongue. This time, too, you add a finger into the mix. She’s boneless the second you curve it.

You’re stealing her tricks like she stole yours. Eyes trying to find hers, but hers are rolled back, her mouth hanging slack. You want them on you, so you click your tongue and insert another finger, curl it inside her. Her eyes shoot open and lock onto yours like you just stole the last piece of pizza and she just can’t believe you got away with it.

She tries saying your name a couple of times, but all that amounts to are wet, choked gasps. She doesn’t let that stop her though. She’s losing control like you’ve never seen before, and she’s dragging you into that rhythm.

She tightens, and it happens faster than at the pool. She cums, hard, her whole body locking again, shaking so hard you’ve got to pin her down, and her back arches off the bed. But only for a moment. You never stopped, not as she squirms from overstimulation, not when she begs you not to.

As her back finishes it’s bow and she goes flaccid, you give her a minute, just to catch her breath. Just to start again. Don’t even let her ask you to, there’s no room for jinxes or invading neighbors now.

At first, she giggles, thinking you’re just returning the favor she performed on your limp cock. But when your tongue circles her still-throbbing clit,her whole body buckles for you. Hyper-sensitive and desperate, but you know what her hands in your hair are telling you.

You keep going. You don’t know how to stop. The taste of her is a current that runs straight to your skull and shorts out the last vestiges of your self-control, the raw, aching want to see her undone all you can think about.

And she continues to impress, sweat glimmering at her hairline, two perfect tears tracking down her cheek. She tries to say something coherent, but it never arrives. Might have been your name. You think a curse could also be an option. Doesn’t matter. Her tongue flattens against her teeth and the sound transforms as the next wave hits her.

You revel in her clenching and spasming, hips smashing into you and arching away, her own body unsure of where to go or what it needs in the most beautiful dance you’ve ever seen.

You don’t let up. Three is not enough. You ease your fingers out of her, making a direct connection between the nerves feeling her every twitch and your brain stem as her body seems to rewire itself with yours. She’s so sensitive now, every touch igniting some kind of fuse.

And you’re greedy to see her burn.

You kiss her clit, just once, and she yelps, a raw, startled noise. “Wait—” she gasps, but you don’t. Can’t. Not yet, anyway. “I’m gonna, I—” she gasps, but then you suck her clit between your lips and play with it with your tongue and she’s too deep, spiraling into another orgasm she didn’t know she could handle.

 This time, she sobs your name. And it doesn’t sound like desperation, not exactly. More like surrender. Like relief.

And that’s your cue. You ease up, mouth and chin slick with her juices, and take it in. There’s not a hard muscle at work there, arms and legs trembling on instinct, spread out wide, chest rising and falling again in frantic, uneven tempo. Her eyes are glassy, staring upwards with hooded lids that could close every second. She’s gone, ascended somewhere, and for a second you think you’ve overplayed it. But she returns with a laugh—just a single one, mind you, scraping breath in deep after it, filled with disbelief, delight and the undertones of a new addiction.

“I eh, I can’t—” she breathes out, voice strained from all the muffling, and she grabs a pillow, hugging it close to her chest, just to have something to bury her face in. “Holy shit,” she curses in full now. “My legs won’t stop fucking shakin, you prick.”

You move up, slide in next to Lia, careful not to cause any more explosions. Her face still glows with the aftershock as she’s clutching the pillow like it’s some kind of stuffed animal you won for her at a carnival. You make a mental note to add that to a bucket list.

You reach over to the nightstand, pour a glass of water from the pitcher provided, and push the glass gently against Lia’s lips. “Drink,” you say, and she does with a big smile, tipping her head back and gulping like her life depended on it. She splutters the last mouthful, wipes her mouth on the pillow, and collapses again.

You stroke her head, slow, patient. “You’re a fucking rockstar, you know that? Not just for being so free tonight, but… man, the way you cum? You’re a miracle.”

She groans into the pillow, mortified. “Shut up. You’re being such a loser right now.”

“Ouch,” you say, cheeky, “And here I was thinking we had something special.”

You lie there, sticky and messy and sweaty, just appreciating the way you fit into each other. A minute drifts by, two. Then she cracks open an eye and grins. "Kind of unfair of you, by the way."

You blink. "What is?"

She reaches over, wraps her hand around your cock who is valiantly refusing to give up the dream, and gives it a languid, teasing pump. "That you’re literally hard as a rock again. I mean, you just ruined me. My legs still don’t work. And you’re just… ready to go."

You can’t deny it’s what you want, but she looks like she might evaporate if you try anything on her. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

She stops that thought before it’s fully formed, squeezing your hilt enough to silence you. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? I’m not doing anything because I have to, it’s because I want to. And that’s thanks to you. You don’t really think I’m going to let you walk out of this place without actually fucking me?”

You open your mouth, but she slides her thumb over your slit, slow, and your brain disconnects from your body for a second. "Lia, you need to recover—"

She cuts you off with a glare. “If you don’t fuck me right now, one of us will die. But—” She holds up a finger, doing her best to get her breathing under control. “Condom. I know you’re a cum fountain, and I am not going to be that cliché.”

She leans over to the nightstand, rummages through the basket of “romantic amenities” and yanks out a foil packet. She tosses it at your chest. “Pick your position,” she says, rolling onto her back and spreading her arms in a gesture of reckless generosity. “Dealer’s choice, remember? But if you do missionary, I swear to god—”

You catch the foil packet with a smirk, weighing it in your palm. The options tumble through your head, a dirty montage: you could go classic, split her open missionary just to see the look on her face and violate her threat; you could get her on her stomach, ass up, push her down and rut her until she’s drooling into the motel comforter; you could even force her into lotus, making her do some of the work and test out her jellied legs some more. All tempting, all hot, but you hesitate. Something about the way she’s looking at you—equal parts challenge and naked trust—makes you want to ask.

“What do you want? I can’t decide,” you say, tearing the foil but waiting.

Lia props herself up on her elbows, squinting like the question is a trick. “What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I mean, if you could pick anything. Any position. What’s your fantasy, Lia?”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it instantly with a glare, very aware that you’re the type to use this against her. She’s not wrong. She considers her options, bites the inside of her cheek, and acts against her better judgement. “Well,” she starts, “You fucked my legs out of commission, so I can’t be riding you.” She pauses briefly. “But, honestly? That thing you did earlier. Piggyback ride. I don’t know why, but it was… really fucking hot. How easy it was for you to hold me. I’m still thinking about it. Like, you, holding me up while you do what you want to me.”

You blink, surprised, but so fucking down. “You’re telling me you want to get fucked without your feet touching the ground?”

She shrugs. If you’re going to use it against her, she might as well mix some defiance into her guilt. “Maybe.”

You slip away from her, standing upright, towering over her with that cock she thinks is so unfair. She doesn’t back down. Her breathing is fast, and she’s waiting to see if you’ll indulge or if you’ll run from the challenge.

Obviously, the only right answer is to hook your hands under her knees, dragging her to the edge of the bed. You move fast, but there’s no roughness. You scoop her up, hands cradling her ass and thighs, hoisting her into your lap like she belongs there. Her arms find your shoulders in an instant, hooking around your neck, legs bracketing around your waist. For a second, you gloat, just holding her, proud of how easy she makes it. Chest to chest, you stare into her eyes, and she blinks, caught off guard by how tender you’re approaching this.

You push her up against the wall, one hand under her ass, the other working together with her hand to tear the condom wrapper. She helps putting it on, fingers trembling as she rolls it down your length.

Her legs clamp tight around your hips, grinding down until she’s got herself just so with the head of your cock pressed in between you. You pull back, line up, then sink in very slowly. You want to savor the way she stretches and molds around you. She’s so fucking tight.

“Holy fuck,” she groans out, eyes pleading, “You’re fucking huge, I don’t know if I— I can’t—”

You keep pushing, not rough but insistent, sliding in and she nearly claws a chunk out of your shoulder for it. “You can,” you whisper back, “you feel so fucking good, Lia, and you’re taking all of me.”

Her hips shift to let you in easier, back arching against the wall, and you take the hint, finally entering fully. She’s panting in your ear for it, but she settles into you.

She twitches every time you throb, the slow and grinding rhythm overtaking her. You’re not rough with her. Maybe next time. Tonight, you want to take her in a way that makes her fall in love with you forever.

“Okay—Okay, it feels good,” she pants, and you believe her, because she’s looking at you like you have light in your eyes. You can’t stop looking at her. “I’m fucking yours,” she somehow manages to push out between her moans. “Don’t fucking stop, it feels so fucking good.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” is all she can mumble now, and it’s more fucks than you’ve heard from her before this night combined. You grip her ass, holding her steady, and fuck up into her until she shakes, her head dropping onto your shoulder as she cums again, harder than before.

This time, she doesn’t stop. She keeps moving, rocking against you even as you piston in and out, her body greedy for more. She’s a mess—hair wild, mascara running, sweat beading on every inch of her—but she’s never looked better. You kiss her, deep and dirty, and she moans into your mouth.

Even as your hips jackhammer into her, she’s clawing at your back, nails biting in time with your thrusts, leaving raised red gouges like she wants to sign her name in your skin. She’s a machine of noise—every time you bottom out, she yelps, a cracked mewl that might be pain or pleasure or both. You can’t tell the difference anymore.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “fuck, fuck, fuck, you—” Her head thuds against the wall, her hands locked like a vice behind your neck. “I can’t believe you fit,” she cries, “I can’t believe—holy shit, you’re going to break me.”

 Her head lolls, hair fanning over her eyes, but she doesn’t let go. Every time you drive in, she squeezes with her legs, trying to take you even deeper, her cunt milking you so greedily you almost lose it right there. You hold on, wanting to keep this going as long as possible.

“Fuck, Lia—” you grunt, and the way she’s still looking at you, with her lips saying more than her words ever could, make you want to fuck her until she’s sobbing your name and can’t remember hers.

She bites your shoulder, hard, and then whimpers, “I want this every day. I want you to fuck me so stupid I can’t even think. Please, please, stay with me—” She’s babbling, words slurring into each other, punctuated by the wet slap of your bodies colliding. There’s nothing left of the old, careful Lia; she’s a mess, running on pure animal need, and you love her for it.

You slow down, just to tease, and she claws at your back. “Don’t—don’t stop, I need you, please—” Her voice is high and shaking, every syllable a desperate plea. You push her harder into the wall, cock grinding up against her cervix, and she comes again, a high shriek that starts in her chest and ends in your mouth as you kiss her through it. She’s sobbing, laughing, cursing you out, and you’re right there with her, barely holding on.

“Inside—inside, please,” she gasps, “please, I want to feel it pulse, want to made I made you—fuck, fuck, fuck, cum in me—” She’s so far gone she doesn’t even care about her own orgasm anymore. Just begging for yours, spasming around you, aftershock after aftershock.

“God, you’re a mess,” you groan, but you love it, love every ruined, wanton inch of her.

“Yours,” she pants, “I’m your mess, I’m fucking yours, so fill me, please, please—”

Your control snaps. You pin her to the wall, driving in with a force that rattles the whole room, and she shrieks, both hands grabbing your face to keep from floating away. You feel it start low, a static charge building in your spine, then sparking outward, white-hot and blinding.

She kisses you this time, and you’re coming, hard, groaning into her mouth as you burst everything you have and fill the condom inside her.

You somehow stay standing, keeping Lia’s body squished between yours and the wall, a sweaty mess. She bites your bottom limp, then slumps back, limp and boneless. “Oh my god,” she sighs, “I can’t decide if I like the feeling of your cock or your tongue more.”

You stagger back to the bed, collapsing with her still wrapped around you. She clings to you. Even as you lie, she doesn’t let go. You just enjoy the breathing, the returning to life, the existing.

Eventually, she breaks the spell. “So,” she says, “are we dating now, or what?”

You look down at her, and she’s biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

You kiss her, soft and slow. “Yeah,” you say. “We’re dating.” You twist around, finally removing the condom and tossing it in the trash, and collapse back next to her, where she’s waiting for you.

She turns onto her side, snuggling in. “I still have to tell him we broke up,” she says. “He’s probably going to be so pissed.”

“Think he’ll try to win you back?” you ask, rubbing lazy circles into her shoulder.

She groans. “He always does. He’ll probably try to make me feel like I’m the one overreacting, saying he loves me so much, tell me to stop being dramatic and to not throw away what we had.” She pauses, rolls her eyes and continues. “He’s probably blowing up my phone already, like, ‘Where are are, let’s talk about this, it’s not a big deal.’”

You reach for her phone, unlocked and abandoned on the nightstand, and sure enough: seven notifications, all his name, as if he could will her back through volume alone. She silences her phone just as easily, and tosses it on the nightstand.

Almost as if spurred on by an extra need for vengeance, she smiles. “Hey,” she asks, “you got anything left in you?”

You blink, then glance down at your thoroughly spent cock, and laugh, embarrassed. “As much as I want to, I think I’m drained.”

She grins, baring her teeth, and leans down to kiss your chest, then your stomach, then lower, tongue trailing lazy circles. “You sure? Because I could probably get one more out of you if I tried.”

You squirm, half-ticklish, half-hopeful, but after a few minutes of her best efforts, all you manage is a halfhearted salute and a dizzy giggle. “Sorry,” you say, “system rebooting. Please come back when my balls aren’t thoroughly drained.”

You lie there, entwined, for as long as you can get away with. The hotel clock ticks over every excruciating minute, reminding you that you’re on the clock, that this freedom is paid for by the hour and will end as soon as your wallets or bodies run dry. You don’t care. You let the minutes drain from you, marking time by the lengthening pattern of Lia’s fingers tracing the line of your ribs.

Eventually, you both get up, shower off, and put yourselves back together. You’re still trembling a little, a pleasant aftershock, as you walk into the dead of night. The world looks different, like the universe has been rerouted through your joined hands.

She’s got her hair in a messy bun, your hoodie over her shirt, and she’s still not wearing a bra. You follow her down the block, back toward campus, the old world waiting where you left it. You’re halfway there, Lia chattering about nothing, when you hear a voice behind you—loud, sharp, the vocal equivalent of a car alarm.

“Lia! What the fuck?”

You turn. There he is: the ex who doesn’t know it yet, still looking the same as he did when he kissed that girl at that party, like he missed a couple of seasons of Lia.

Lia flinches at the raised volume, some vestiges of his control. You squeeze her hand, once, a silent reminder that you’re here as well. She stands, just a little behind your shoulder, but her chin is up, her spine straight.

He’s got it all loaded: the hurt, the entitlement, the performative anger. “Wow, Lia,” he spits, loud and rattling the air. “This what you do now? Run off with some fucking loser? Real mature. Real classy.”

You brace for impact, for the flinch and the apology and the slow-motion collapse, but Lia just shrugs, all slow confidence. “You don’t get to be mad,” she says, voice steady as a rifle shot. “Not after you did what you did.”

He tries again, louder. “You’re making a fucking scene. You want this guy to see what a goddamn psycho you are?”

And you’re about to step in, to body-block or at least escalate with some well-timed sarcasm, but Lia beats you to it. Her voice is steel and glitter: “Eat shit, asshole.”

She turns to you, and just as he draws a breath to retort, Lia kisses you with a force that feels like it could break your teeth. It’s not gentle, not even a little; her hands are in your hair, her mouth insistent, hungry, and you can feel her ex’s ego shriveling up and dying at the sight.

He stands there, a monument to every mediocre boyfriend in history, jaw working, hands twitching. You almost feel bad for him, but then Lia pulls back, breathless, and you see the look in her eyes and you know the only person in this story worth rooting for is her.

Lia wraps herself around your arm, tucking in like it’s her natural place, and for once you see the boyfriend—ex, you realize now, it’s official—deflate. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then shakes his head, half-laughing and half about to lose it. “You’re a fucking joke, Lia,” he says, voice cracking, “I hope you’re happy together.”

She doesn’t even look at him. She just leans into you, hand spread wide over your stomach, and says, “I am, actually.” She glances back, a parting shot gleaming in her eye, and adds, “He knows how to make me cum. You could learn a thing or two.”

His face goes blotchy-red, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and for a second you think he might take a swing at you. But then he just shakes his head, mutters the word “sluts,” and shoves his way past, storming off down the block.

You and Lia stand there, your laughter coming out in hiccups, barely able to breathe.

“Holy shit, did you see his face?” She clutches your shirt. “I thought he was going to try and hit you.”

You both laugh at how ridiculous it was, how she revels in her victory. She scrunches up her nose, looks at you with all the love she can give, and there’s no grief.

When you finally reach her dorm building, she hesitates at the door. She turns to you and asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then? Promise?”

You nod. “I’ll be here.”

She grins, then pokes your chest, hard. “And not just because I’m the only one that knows how to suck your dick?”

You salute, dead serious. “It helps, but the fact that you’re my favorite person was established before I found your hidden talents.”

Her lips form a tight line, she staggers a bit as she ducks inside and waves over her shoulder, and then the door closes. It takes a minute for you to start walking away.

You eventually make it back to your place, and the clock reads past 4 a.m. as you let yourself into your room, flop face-first onto the bed, and become dead asleep in seconds.

You wake up to a dozen of texts from Lia, all time stamped between 8 a.m. and the current 9 a.m., each more unhinged than the last:

“my thighs are bruised and whose fault is that? yours. youre officially an abuser…”

“jk they’re good bruises”

“remember when i said i wanted u i was serious don’t be a dick about it”

“fuck i can’t stop thinking about your mouth”

“are you awake. please be awake. i want to see you right now. but i also want to sleep for 1000 years. what do i do”

“hey my legs are working again”

“nvm im on the floor SEND HELP”

“my roommates are gone till 5 btw just saying”

“so have you got any juice back in those balls of yours?”

“i havent washed my face yet and i desperately need you here to give me a reason to”

Then there’s a picture. Lia’s on her dorm floor, hair everywhere, face grinning up at the camera, eyes soft with sleep but lit with mischief. Her shirt is one of those oversized, thin things that’s only oversized if you’ve never actually tried to contain anything with it—her nipples show through, and the neckline is so wide it’s sliding off one shoulder, hinting at the curve of her collarbone and the warm, pliant skin below. You can’t tell if she’s wearing anything under it, but that’s probably the point.

“im trying so hard to look good for you so youll finally get the hint and come over to fuck me (multiple holes ready for use btw)“

“just imagine how much better id look if you were here with your cock in my mouth… like??“

You text back: “just woke up. im there in 10. youll look even hotter after i rip those clothes off of you.”

The little typing bubble appears, and three seconds later: “run. i needed you inside me like an hour ago already.”

[lovelykil]

NNN—

ᯓ killua (older ver.)

short oneshot

cw; freaky ahh reader i guess LMOA

note; kil fs has self control but not TODAYYYY

"are you kidding me? That sounds so stupid." Killua slides off his headset and glances over at Leorio. The tall man leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, smirking at Killua.

"you don't think you can do it, Killua?" Leorio leans off the frame. The silverette scoffs and looks back at his PC. "Of course I can, I have way more self-control than you."

"wanna test that? 20 bucks on you losing no nut November." Leorio extends his hand, challenging his friend. Killua looks at Leorio's hand then at him, he thinks this challenge is stupid as fuck but also easy. Especially if it's against the pervert Leorio. With a careless shrug, he shakes Leorio's hand.

"this is gonna be an easy 20 bucks." Killua says as he smirks, slipping back on his headset. Leorio glances over at you scrolling on your phone, sitting upon Killua's bed. You two make eye contact for a brief moment and grin at each other.

"yeah, we'll see.." Leorio responds as he nods at you while you nod back at him. Leorio then turns around to close the door behind him with a mischievous grin, the challenge barely began and he already won.

once you hear the door click you toss your phone to the side and lift yourself off the bed, you innocently approach your cute boyfriend from behind and wrap your arms around his neck. You slowly feel around his structured chest while you inch toward his neck and leave soft kisses. An electrifying sensation surges through his body as you work your magic on the sensitive spot on his neck you know too well. He quickly reacts by removing his headset, you watch him spin around to look at you.

"what the hell are you doing?" He confronts you while he rubs his neck with a deep blush. You simply giggle and cup his face to place your lips on his. The kiss was long and slow but electric, carrying a spark that ignited every nerve. When you finally part, breathless, the look of unspoken desire is evident in his deep blue mesmerizing eyes. You smile at this and lean in closer, closer to his surprised flushed face, and whisper into his ear.

Killua grips the armrest of his chair, attempting to control himself to your confession.

"I need your help, Killua."

. . .

later that night, Kurapika, Leorio, and Gon sit around the table and begin eating the dinner Kurapika prepared. As they ate they realized only two people were missing... Kurapika had already called on them twice already. What could they possibly be doing?

"where are those two?" Kurapika asks out loud, looking around the table. Gon looks at the empty seats as well while Leorio shrugs, unbothered by the missing teens. He soon grins momentarily when finally the two of you join them at the table.

Kurapika watches you both in suspicion. Killua looks irritated and flushed, his hair was in a mess, and his skin was glistening for some reason same thing could be said for you. You wore one of Killua's shirts and his sweats making your way to your seat. You smile at Leorio and nod then look at Killua passing by Leorio.

"nice of you two to join us." Leorio teases as he glances at Killua passing him by. Killua digs into his pocket and throws a 20 dollar bill onto the table grumpily,

"shut the hell up."

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.

warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines

genre: still very much a romcom

part 1

note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.

“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.

“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.

“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”

“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.

“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”

You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.

“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.

“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”

“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.

“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).

“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.

“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”

“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”

“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”

“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.

“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”

Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”

“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”

“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"

“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”

“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.

He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.

“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”

“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.

“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”

“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."

Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”

“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”

“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”

"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.

"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."

You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.

“Have fun with your boyfriend?”

“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.

“Lord Eros,” You bowed.

“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.

“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”

You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”

“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.

“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”

“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.

“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”

A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.

Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”

Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”

“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.

“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.

“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”

You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.

When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”

“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”

“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺

taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Saw your post about someone dying during the war ha ha hahaha ,,,,, tail .

post in question

no cause like what if

It had been a month since the war ended. A month since Infinite was defeated, since Eggman’s forces were destroyed, and since the process to rebuild the world began.

There were celebrations around the globe. Every citizen of Mobius cheered, voices crying out in pure joy as the empire that nearly gained full control of their planet crumbled out of the sky, pieces of the Death Egg crashing down into the ocean.

In between the parties, however, there were also those in mourning. Many had lost loved ones during the war. Whether they were murdered by the cruel hands of Eggman’s robot army or dying of illnesses and wounds they didn’t have enough supplies to treat, the list of casualties was long. Too long.

And Tails shouldn’t have been on that list.

Tails had been killed on the final day of the war. It was as if the empire had to give them one final punch in the gut. One last victory before it fell apart. And what better victory for Eggman was there? He’d finally gotten rid of the stubborn little fox kit who outsmarted him at nearly every turn.

The fox kit who was only nine years old.

It was hard for Amy and Knuckles— and all of their friends, really— to celebrate without him. They tried to find little ways to include Tails so he would at least be there in spirit. They toasted to him, told stories, and made a small grave for him outside of the Resistance building with plans of making a proper memorial when they got back on their feet.

But even with all that, it was such a noticeable absence that clawed at their hearts. His squeaky little giggle was missing from the choir of other laughs. Computer and machine related tasks were much more challenging without the genius fox kit there to guide them. His seemingly endless optimism and empathic nature weren’t there when things got stressful.

For someone so small, he had such a massive presence in all of their lives. And now that was just gone.

The only one who didn’t seem all that bothered by it was Sonic.

When they broke the news to him, he barely even reacted. He just stared at them with a blank expression, mind seemingly far away. All he said was, “Yeah, okay” and then he left. There was no anger, no sadness. There was only indifference.

It took Amy and Knuckles all of their willpower to not explode, to not scream at him for how he just seemed to shrug off his baby brother’s death so easily. They thought that since he’d just gotten rescued after six months of captivity and being subjected to who knows what, maybe his brain just couldn’t handle it at that moment. Maybe it was too much, maybe he just needed some space to process it.

But that didn't seem to be the case either as they found him only a few hours later just being himself. Joking around and helping where he could like nothing had happened. Like the most important person in his world wasn’t gone forever.

And frankly, it pissed the two of them off.

Where was the protective big brother? The guy who’d move mountains for that kid and flipped out whenever he got hurt. Where was Tails’s best friend? Why didn’t he care? Was Infinite to blame? Had he and Eggman somehow managed to wipe all of the love Sonic had for that little fox kit? They were cruel, but was that even possible?

They thought it wasn’t for the longest time, but maybe they were wrong.

It took a month after the war ended for them to confront him about it. It weighed on them too much to the point it was almost unbearable to be in the same room as the hedgehog.

It started, as most of Sonic’s confrontations over the years did, with a punch to the face.

“What the hell!?” The hedgehog cried out when Knuckles struck him, paw going to his cheek as he held the spot that would definitely bruise, “What’s your problem?!”

“I should be asking you that.” Knuckles responded, shaking out his fist. “I didn’t think you of all people would act as dishonorable as this.”

Sonic blinked at them, “Wha- dishonorable?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, hedgehog!” The echidna shouted, “Did the fox’s life mean so little to you that his death is simply pushed aside as though it were nothing?!”

All Sonic did was stare wordlessly.

“Knuckles, please.” Amy said, stepping in front of him so she could say her piece, “But, he’s right. I just- I don’t understand. Why are you…how can you be so carefree about this? He was your little brother, Sonic! Your best friend! You used to lose your mind whenever Eggman hurt him, but now he’s gone and it just doesn’t matter?”

Her fists clenched, “You gave a halfhearted toast, you didn’t share any stories about him, and you don’t even visit his grave! And I should know, I'm there…all the time.”

Amy’s eyes blurred with tears and she choked on the lump in her throat, “I’m still asking for his advice, still talking to him and complaining about inconsequential things. I sit with him for hours because I miss him. I miss him so much. But you…you just somehow act like nothings wrong. Why, Sonic? Why would you do that to him?”

Knuckles put a firm hand on her shoulder and she sent an appreciative smile. The echidna nodded before looking up at the hedgehog in front of them as Amy scrubbed her eyes, “Tails was part of our tribe. He was family to all of us, but especially to you. And yet you run around and act as though his passing is meaningless.” His frown deepened, “The Sonic I know would’ve made sure the doctor met the same fate as soon as he heard the news.”

Sonic continued to stare blankly at them, which only made Knuckles angrier.

“Do you have anything to say? Or are you just gonna stand there and stare?” No response. The echidna scoffed, “Fine. Come on, Amy. This was a waste of time.”

He gently steered her away from Sonic, Amy looking back at him before facing forward and wiping her tears away with several sniffles.

A snort made them stop in their tracks.

Knuckles’s muzzle curled into a snarl as he spun around and Amy just looked over her shoulder in disbelief.

Sonic was laughing, head thrown back and tears pricking his eyes. The fire in Knuckle’s eyes grew as he went to stomp over to him, but Amy stopped him and shook her head. His laughter didn’t sound joyful or mean spirited. It sounded empty.

Eventually, Sonic’s hands went to his hips and he just shook his head, “Wow, haven’t heard that one before! You almost got me there!”

Amy’s brow furrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“I will admit, you’re getting pretty good at this. But I guess practice does make perfect, amiright?” The hedgehog continued.

“Practice makes…” Knuckles mumbled before growling, “Answer Amy’s question! What are you talking about, hedgehog?”

“Oh please, like you don’t know.”

“We don’t, Sonic! Do you think we’re joking? Why on Mobius would we joke about something like this?”

He looked at the two of them with a half lidded stare, clearly annoyed at something. “What? You need me to spell it out? You’re not just gonna take me back?”

“Take you back where?” Amy asked.

Knuckles growled. “Would you just spit it out already!” he yelled, patience growing thin.

“I know this isn’t real.”

The silence that followed was heavy as Amy's shoulders sagged when she realized what he meant and Knuckles grimaced.

Oh.

They just stared at the hedgehog as he continued rambling on about the conclusion he’d drawn and was so sure about, “I will say, this has been going on for some time. I mean, a month! That may be a record breaker. Gotta hand it to ya, Infinite, you really went all out this time!”

“Oh, Sonic…” Amy clutched the hem of her dress, sadness in her voice, “Infinite…Infinites gone.”

Sonic just scoffed, “Yeah, sure. Like I haven’t heard that one before. Y’know, creativity really isn’t your strong suit, man. You can’t just put me in the same scenarios over and over again and expect me to not catch on sooner or later.”

He continued, “Look, the jigs up. Can you just stop it already?” His voice tapered off into something more somber.

Knuckles turned his gaze away while Amy took a step towards Sonic, stopping when he took a step back. His sharp blue quills were raised and he had an uneasy look in his eyes. It was as if he expected her to hurt him.

It made her heart hurt, “Sonic, I…this is real. The war is over. Infinite is gone.”

Sonic tsked, “Sure.”

“It is!”

“No it’s not!” Sonic snapped, “Because that would mean…” He trailed off, panic flashing in his eyes before he blinked hard and anger replaced it, “Would get this over with already. Make her attack me or something! Just do it! I wanna go back to my cell already.”

“Your cell?” Amy breathed out, “What did they do to you?”

“Like you don’t know.” Sonic growled, “Just cut the crap and get this over with!”

She couldn’t help it. Amy barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as tightly as she could. He fought against her, trying to pry her off and get away from her. Just like he always did. But this time there was more fight in him. She could feel his panicked breaths, the desperation to get away in his movements, but she held on.

She held on until something clicked.

“You’re warm.” Sonic mumbled, barely audible. His squirming came to a stop.

“I am.” Amy replied, just as quietly, “We all are. We’re real, I promise. The war is over. We won. You’re safe.”

Knuckles huffed out a sigh and walked over to the two hedgehogs, hesitating for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around both of them. Doing what he could to be there for his friends, his tribe.

He could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of someone so much smaller than him wrap his arms around them as well.

It’s okay, you did your best

”I know you don’t believe us, and you probably won’t for a long time especially since…” Amy didn’t have the heart to say it out loud. She felt his breathing pick up again, his heart beating frantically. Tears pricked her eyes.

Suddenly, Sonic pushed away from them, a panicked expression on his face. “N-no. No, this isn’t real! You’re fucking with me! Your stupid ruby got an upgrade or something! I don’t fucking know what you did but this isn’t real! Tails isn’t—!”

He choked as reality seemed to crash down around him. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he failed to get a full breath of air, “Tails isn’t…”

“I’m so sorry, Sonic.” Amy simply said. It was all she could say.

What could only be described as pure despair washed over his features. Sonic took several wobbly steps backwards before turning to run away. Far away. As far as he could go. He needed to get out of this cramped hallway, away from these things. They weren’t real, they weren’t his friends. They were nothing but cruel illusions made to torment him. Made to make him suffer. That’s all this was.

He tripped over his own feet, face planting on the hard ground. An almost animalistic sound tore out of his throat as he heard the memory of a squeaky little giggle making fun of his big bro’s clumsiness. Sonic scrambled to get up, but he couldn’t. He slipped over and over again until he just gave up and curled up right there on the floor.

Amy and Knuckles sat besides him, doing their best to be there for the hero as this tidal wave crashed into him and kept him under. The pressure pushed down on him, pulling him further and further under the waves.

It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

It couldn’t be.

[thethronezone]

Love the Primarchs as fathers. How do you think they’d react when or if their kid starts having crushes, maybe wanting to date?

Watch this man age ten thousand years the moment his kid admits they have someone the like. Mortarion looks haunted. Genuinely asks himself where he went wrong raising his child. It takes a long time for him to accept that his kid is getting older and wants, ugh, those kinds of relationships. Just give him some time and he will gradually warm up to the idea. He just has to accept the fact his kid is becoming their own person.

Fulgrim is both the biggest hype man and the biggest critic. Because when his kid tells him then have a crush on someone he'll be so excited for them and he will want to hear all the details. Where did you meet? What's their name? What do you like about them? And then he will tear that poor crush to shreds with his words alone. "Dear, open your EYES. They are a 6.5 at BEST. Is that a mullet? Ugh, that's so last century. And they are HOW tall? Honey, you deserve better than that."

Don't tell Angron, he's just going to challenge them to a fight. If someone wants to court his child, then they have to first prove their mettle in bloody combat! Might kill them. By accident of course. Is actually not that opposed to his kid dating someone, he just wants that person to be strong enough to fight by their side. Very critical of every crush. Will kill someone for breaking his kid's heart(s). The type of father to sit in the corner, polishing his gun, while staring down his kid's crush.

At first, Magnus is nothing but supportive. He thinks it's wonderful that his kid is growing as a person and discovering new avenues of life. Slowly starts to hate the crush though. Just does not think that they are good enough for his kid. Magnus is a very proud man and that pride extends to his kid, who only deserves the best. "What do you even see in them? They can't even summon lightning!" Tries to set his kid up with prominent scholars instead. "What about this one? They are a master of theoretical quantum physics."

Perturabo straight up goes "no" when his kid tells him they have caught feelings for someone and they want to court this person. He's not saying this to be cruel but he genuinely does not think that it is in his kid's best interest to enter a relationship. They are busy with their studies, with training, they won't have time for courting. Forbids his kid from pursuing any sort of further relationship with this person and if he finds out that they have disobeyed him, he won't hesitate to separate the two.

Alpharius and Omegon knew about the crush before his kid told them about it. Still acts surprised when they tell them and asks who's caught their kid's eye, even though at this point they know EVERYTHING about this person. I am talking living family, blood type, height, weight, biggest fears, life aspirations, the last time they wet the bed. If they approve of the person, they will be supportive. If they don't, then they will pretend to be supportive but actually sabotage the relationship at every turn. Oh no, the crush missed their date? What a shame. (They were sedated by an Alpha Legion member and placed in a cupboard.)

When Lorgar learns that his kid is experiencing romantic love for the first time, he's happy for them. He just urges them to be careful, that love does not always turn out the way you want it to. Otherwise 100% supportive. Will patiently listen to his kid when they talk about their crush and gives them his honest advice, which is actually pretty solid. Secretly a bit sad that his kid is growing up so quickly but he won't say this out loud since he knows it's just a natural part of life.

Horus is like "Hell yeah, grandkids!" and his kid has to stop him and remind him that they haven't even entered the relationship yet. They don't even know if the other person likes them in that way! To which Horus goes "Of course they like you, you're my kid!" Honestly thinks his kid could get any person in the Imperium if they wanted to. Is however very critical of who they date but won't say anything about it if his kid seems genuinely happy with them.

HAHAHA. No. Konrad will not allow it. He will not hear it! Who is it? He'll kill them! Tell him! Konrad probably has the worst reaction out of all the Primarchs. Does he want his kid to be happy? Yes, more than anything. But Konrad genuinely believes people are naturally evil and selfish and is 100% sure that his child is going to end up betrayed in some terrible way. Just wants to protect his kid.

Admittedly, Sanguinius is not very optimistic about it at first. Not that he isn't supportive of his kid's feelings! Love is wonderful! But he can't help but worry that the other person will try and use them, seeing them as a way to rise in life. So while he supports his kid, he will secretly keep an eye out. Outside, he's all smiles and innocent questions ("Oh, where are they from? What are they like?") but at the same time he's highly critical of this other person. He wants to protect his kid from getting their heart broken.

For Corvus, this revelation that his kid has a crush on someone strikes him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Like, he completely forgot that his kid may one day develop an inclination towards romantic feelings and relationships. Quickly accepts it though. Kinda. He keeps a close eye on this other person they are interested in, not getting directly involved but making sure they are a stand up person and has honest intentions. Doesn't tell his kid that he's essentially spying on their crush but he knows that they know.

Ferrus is like "Ok? What do you want me to do about it?" Look, he's not going to stop his kid from forming romantic relationships or admonish them for having those kinds of feelings in the first place. It's their life, he can't control every aspect of it nor does he want to. As long as they don't let these feeling and relationships get in the way of what's actually important, they can do whatever they like.

Zero change in facial expression from my guy Rogal Dorn. Nods his head. "So it's like that." LIKE WHAT, DORN? EXPLAIN YOUR LINE OF THOUGHT, PLEASE. They will never know what Rogal thinks about their crush until one day, after he's met them for the first time, he goes "I do not like that person. They covered in my presence." And then he straight up tells his kid that they need to get a better taste in partners!

Watch Vulkan break down in tears. His little baby is so grown up! Already has their first crush! It feels like just yesterday that he would sing them lullabies and tuck them in at night! Just very emotional about it. He's happy for his kid, gives them his blessing to date whoever they want, he just can't help but feel like his kid is growing up too fast. Will however give their crush the scariest, most passive aggressive shovel talk you can imagine. Vulkan does not mess around when it comes to his kid's feelings after all.

At first, Lion appears fully uninterested when his kid tells him then have a crush on someone. If they prod him for a response he will give them a "I see" at best and just a dismissive grunt at worst. So, that means he doesn't give a shit, right? NAH. That crush of theirs are gonna be visited in the middle of the night by the Primarch of the 1st Legion himself, standing at the end of their bed, threatening to behead them and their whole family if they break his child's heart(s). Will then act like normal when, the next day, his kid brings up how nice their crush suddenly is to them.

Leman immediately wants to meet the person, even if it's just a person his kid has a crush on. Don't worry, he's not gonna do anything! Just wanna make sure that they are a good guy! Lies, he totally wanna intimidate them. Not because of any malicious reason, he wants to test their mettle. Will act all nice and cheery in front of his kid but the moment they look elsewhere, he will subtly threaten the crush, flashing his teeth and showing off his strength. If they don't faint and actually stand their ground, then he will accept them with open arms! If they cover in fear? Well, the wolves could use a new chew toy... Joking! He's joking. (Is he though?)

Honestly, Jaghatai is so chill about it. Teases his kid about it a little but is genuinely supportive of them exploring this avenue of life. Get out there, try things out, meet people, figure stuff out! As long as the other person is an honest and upstanding individual, he don't care who they are. Serf, soldier, scholar, artist, they are all good! Gives good courting and dating advice.

Roboute gives his kid 'the Talk'. It's the most awkward and stilted conversation he's ever had. At the end of it, he lays a hand on their shoulder and pats it like they are a horse or a well trained dog. "Good talk." Is supportive of his kid pursuing relationships, just very awkward and Roboute-y about it. Gives them books about romance and dating so they can 'study'. Also tries to give them advice, though it's not always very good. "Bring them flowers. Baselines likes flowers." "Dad, they are allergic." "... Plastic flowers?"

[angstywaifu]

Hi, how have you been??

I was wondering if your requests are still open? If so, it crosses my mind: what if Garrick had a cousin secretly dating Bodhi, and how would he and Xaden react if they found out about their relationship after Bo goes feral because Garrick's cousin is hurt?

It's just an idea, if your requests aren't open or makes you uncomfortable in any way I apologize and please forget I asked in the first place.

Love your work, btw. Bye 👋 💕

Worst Kept Secret - Bodhi Durran x Reader

A/N: Just like Bodhi not telling Xaden and Garrick, better late than never right? I'm so sorry this took so long to get to. I hope you like it!

Masterlist | Support Me

“We should probably tell them soon.” I tell Bodhi as we make our way to class.

Bodhi’s eyes widen before he shakes his head. “Hell no. Garrick would have my head if he found out about us.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re acting like he’s my brother.”

”He may as well be with how protective he is over you. Have you seen the way he glares at any guy that looks your way for a second too long?”

I sigh. “You’re over reacting, it will be fine. He’s going to have to find out eventually.”

”Yeah, when he’s stationed far away from here when he can’t hunt me down and murder me.” He says before coming to a stop outside his classroom.

It had been six months since Bodhi and I had started seeing each other. Both of us agreeing to keep it a secret at first in case it didn’t go well or we decided to go back to being friends. But six months in it was clear that this was going well, and it was getting harder and harder to cover up sneaking off together. Especially now Bodhi and I were helping with supply runs, meaning our time together was becoming more and more limited.

“No we are telling him before he graduates and gets stationed elsewhere.” I tell him sternly.

Bodhi’s shoulders sag in defeat, before slowly nodding his head. “Fine, but when my body turns up one morning in the middle of the rotunda just know it was because of you.”

I quickly check the hallway to make sure we’re alone before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll remember your noble sacrifice. See you at challenges.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me as I turn and walk away to my own class.

Bodhi.

I rush into the training room, the familiar sounds of fighting echoing around the room as everyone watches on. My squads flight training had gone over time due to an inccident, so I’d missed the first half of challenges. I push my way through the crowd to the ususal spot I stand in with Y/N, Garrick, Xaden and Imogen. But as I break through the crowd the only one there is Imogen. I scan the mats in the centre of the room, expecting to see them fighting on one of the mats. But none of them are there. Strange.

”Where are the others?” I ask Imogen as I manouver into the gap next to her.

”Healers Quadrant.” She says timidly, as if almost scared to tell me. Which was not normal for her at all.

”Imogen, what’s wrong?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I look down at her with narrowed eyes.

She looks up at me and recoils slightly at my stare. “Jeez, it’s scary how much you look like Xaden when you do that.”

”Imogen.” I say more sternly.

“It’s Y/N. She…”

”Imogen I swear to the gods you better tell me what happened.” I demand.

”She got badly hurt in challenges. That new Barlowe kid got paired up with her.”

I feel all the colour drain from my face at her words. Barlow had no care or regard for anyone but himself. He was ruthless, and was already known for killing quite a number of cadets already. As well as sending a long list of cadets to the Healers Quadrant in very bad condition.

I turn and shove my way through the crowd, Imogen calling out to me in an effort to stop me. She was pretty much the only one that knew about Y/N and I. She had covered for us numerous times after stumbling across us one night in an abandoned tower. Clearly it was not as abandoned as we had thought.

As soon as I push through the doors, I sprint over to the bridge connecting us to the rest of the college. But no matter how hard I push myself it feel as if time is slowing down, as if I’m running through mud.

I can’t help but think of the worse. I had seen first hand many times how Jack’s opponents had ended up post challenging him. Most of them unconscious, a lot of them gushing blood from some sort of wound, or…. Dead. No she isn’t dead. Imogen would have said so. But she had called out to me….

The thought has me pushing my legs harder, barrelling towards to door opening that finally looked like it was getting closer and closer. Rounding the corner, I nearly take out a healer who squeals with alarm as I dodge past her.

I push open the doors to the infirmary, Garrick and Xaden’s heads whipping towards me as I rush towards them. “Where is she?” I demand loudly as I stop in front of them, frantically looking around at the beds.

”She’s back there with Nolon.” Xaden tells me, nodding towards the closed door at the back of them room.

I side step him, starting to rush towards the doors before a hand grabs my flight jacket and hauls me backwards. I reel around, shoving Garrick in the chest hard, causing him to stumble back as he releases my jacket.

”What the hell has gotten into you?” He nearly yells at me, the room going silent as the healers look at us with alarm.

I freeze, realising I’m reacting in a way I probably shouldn’t be for someone they think I’m just friends with. Yes she was Garrick’s cousin, but I had only know her coming up to two years now. Garrick should be reacting like I am, which I’m sure on the inside he was.

“Sorry. Imogen just made it sound bad.” I say as I lower my gaze, awkwardly scratching the back of my head in an effort to pass this off.

”What did she say?” Xaden asks.

”That she was up against Barlowe.” I say quietly. Imogen hadn’t actually said it was bad, I had just assumed it was. If I was smart I would have rushed in and asked what happened. Not come barging in here like I was out for blood.

”And?” Garrick asks, his tone almost teasing as if he can see right through me.

“And that was it…” I mumble out, but with the breathy laugh I hear from the two of the I know they’ve heard me clear as day.

“Yes it could be better, but all Barlow managed to do was break her arm.” Xaden tells me, my head snapping up in relief at his words. A broken arm was nothing, happened all the time around here. And easy fix. And explained why she was in the back with Nolan.

”If anything, Barlowe should be the one you’re worried about.” Garrick says with a laugh.

I turn and follow his gaze to where Barlowe lays in one of the beds I’d missed in my scan of the room, clutching a very blood stained cloth to his side as the healers work to mend the wound. On his bedside table lays on of her daggers covered in his blood. I can’t help but smile knowing that she’d gotten him back, and done worse damage to him than he had done to her.

“Definitely not worried about him. He deserves it.” I say as I turn my attention back to them, both of them nodding in agreement.

I think I’ve gotten away with hiding why I reacted the way I did, until Garrick looks me in the eyes and just smirks at me. “So instead of trying to pass off your reaction due to Imogen being vague, you going to man up and tell me you’re dating my cousin?”

I feel like my heart stops as my eyes go wide. Xaden doesn’t even try to hide his laughter at my reaction to Garrick’s words.

”How the hell did you know?” I blurt out with out thinking, mentally slapping myself.

Garrick rolls his eyes. “You really trusted Imogen to keep your secret from us?”

I groan as I hide my head in my hands. “Definitely wasn’t your smartest move cousin.” Xaden says as he pats me on the back.

“Excuse me while I go find a certain pink haired cadet to murder.” I grumble out as I storm out of the infirmary back to the Rider’s Quadrant, Garrick and Xaden’s booming laughs echoing behind me

[laseracronym]

Bakugou/Loner!Reader

(Thinking about Bakugou having a crush on a loner from the Gen Ed course.)

You definitely think he's trying to pick a fight when he first approaches.

What could one of the top students in the Hero Course want with a Gen Ed loser like you? Not even the kids in your own class really hang around you, and that's by design.

He's not clear with his intentions and is awkward in his own aggressive way. You take it for genuine animosity and respond in kind. You're feisty when you want to be.

You start having little snarling matches with him when you bump into each other in the hallways, which is becoming more and more frequent as of late. This guy really has it out for you.

Your classmates wonder if you have a death wish, challenging a guy who can blow you up and is currently receiving combat training. Bakugou's classmates wonder what that poor Gen Ed kid did to piss him off so much, though some (especially Kirishima and Midoriya) suspect something else is going on.

You're starting to become known around the school because of these exchanges. You don't like it, you liked it when no one looked at you and you had your peace. You start to ignore him, hoping he'll get the hint and leave you alone if you stop reacting to him.

He doesn't like that at all.

At first he's confused, completely thrown off by the change in energy from you. But if you think he's just going to let you ignore him... Him? Oh hell no.

"Hey," he barks, when you try to pass him without a word yet again. He catches your wrist in a calloused hand, grip firm yet not as rough as you thought he would be. The contact sends a rush through your nervous system, and you're so caught off guard that you don't even think to shake him off. He tugs you a little closer, his voice gruff yet soft, red-eyed gaze intense yet earnest, "don't ignore me. Look at me."

"What do you want from me!?" you finally burst out, after all this time, all these encounters, you still have no idea what the hell he wants from you.

"You, you stupid asshole!" he barks back, exasperated and face aflame with irritation, embarrassment, and longing. He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring like an angry bull, before he huffs out what is supposed to be a calming breath. His next words are no less frustrated, but at least they don't echo off the walls. "I want you, I want to be with you and shit, why can't you take the hint!?"

You flounder, your jaw working but no words come out for a second, before you're spluttering, "don't call me stupid! How was I supposed to know that's what you wanted!?"

The argument devolves from there, but he's still got a hold of you and you have yet to turn him down, there's a change in the tension, the fire, now. It seems like you two might finally be on the same page.

(Currently taking requests for drabbles and headcanons!)

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

What if neglected mk reader was part of the tournament before they left their world, like Scorpion's 'training' was throwing them headfirst into battle against some of the more 'side' characters like Reptile or Frost? (Ik they are important to the actual mk storyline, but they arent in this story.)

I keep imagining that someone from reader's original world coming back for revenge for beating them as a kid and declaring mortal kombat, and since its been declared- the same rules apply, neither party is able to back down even if they wanted to. So here these two are, going at it to the death- how is the batfamily gonna react?

I definitely think that scorpion would make little mortal kombat reader fight stronger opponents. Like reptile or frost. But like keep in mind that mortal kombat reader was like 6-7 years old when she left.

So like imagine losing to a six or seven year old? That would be shameful and would probably take away your honor.

Especially in the mortal kombat universe. Where everyone fights to be the best. Like you probably shamed there name and their families name.

It was like they lost to a baby. Which they kinda did. Like it was so bad that no one even thought they were good enough to fight against.

So of course there waiting for revenge. But like I'd like to imagine that it's not that simple for just anyone to travel another universe.

But like when reader returns to mortal kombat world? Oh they have a whole lot of enemies waiting to gain back their honor.

And the best part? Reader doesn't even remember fighting them. Like..

" Y/N Hasashi you took everything from me. I challenge you to a duel to the death."

And readers just standing there confused because like who the hell are these people and why do they want to fight me?

"Bro I don't even know you"

And their just like tf? She ruined my life and she don't even remember me.

But readers just standing there all nonchalant as of she didn't just get challenged to a fight to the death.

"Bro last time I was here I didn't even know my ABC."

But like can you imagine batfam finally finds you after finding away to travel to the mortal kombat universe. And they see reader just nonchalantly talking to a huge reptile who's literally talking about how their gonna tear reader apart.

And readers just using all her brainrot that she got from gotham to annoy the huge terrifying reptile.

"Wait so your saying I ripped off your arm?"

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Cap. I was like three feet tall last time I was here."

And their just staring at reader like 😒😒😒

"........."

And bruce who's the most shocked of all because like what do you mean you teared off his arm and you don't even remember!

Because bruce was like when I first met you you loved my little pony! And now your telling them that the same little girl six year old who was obsessed with hello kitty and my little pony was fighting thirty year old monsters! And winning!

And readers just standing their like "So.....we gonna fight or nah.... cause not to sound like a big back but I'm lowkey hungry."

___________________________________________

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz

[eunoia-writes]

The babysitter • bodyguard!Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Victor Dimitri has had enough of his daughter and her wild streak. When she crosses a boundary even she knows she shouldn’t have, he hires her a personal bodyguard or in her words, A babysitter. When he comes into her life she’s defiant won’t listen to a word he says but Rafe is used to a challenge

Warnings: Mention of violence, Dark themes, murder, Kidnapping, drug trafficking and Abuse, Neglectful parents, sexual themes, eventual Smut- MDI

Three

Previous

—

Y/N had been ignoring Rafe for days now.

She barely left her room, only emerging for meals, and even then, she acted as though he didn’t exist. He was used to her silent treatment by now, but this time, it annoyed him more than he’d like to admit.

Still, he let her have her space. She’d come around eventually.

And apparently, tonight was the night she was going to try and smooth things over.

One evening, she appeared in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed, chin tilted up in that defiant way that drove him crazy.

“I’m going out for dinner with Sasha and the girls,” she announced.

Rafe barely glanced up from his phone, masking the way his body instantly tensed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed, nodding slightly. “Good.”

She hesitated, clearly expecting an argument. When she didn’t get one, she just shrugged, grabbed her bag, and turned toward the door.Rafe pushed himself off the couch, grabbing his keys.

She turned to him with a groan. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He held the door open for her, waiting. “Let’s go.”

She huffed but stomped past him, heading toward the car.

The drive was quiet at first, but then, Rafe let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he tapped the steering wheel.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” he said, smirking. “I’m just really glad you decided not to go out with Isaac.”

Y/N tensed. “Oh… yeah.”

“I mean, you’d have to be insane to still want to see that guy But I knew you’d make the smart choice.”

She swallowed. “Yeah, of course.”

Rafe glanced over at her, his smirk widening. “See? Maybe you can learn to listen to me.”She rolled her eyes, staring out the window.

A few minutes later, they pulled up outside the restaurant. And that’s when Rafe’s mood immediately soured.

Because standing there, waiting by the entrance, was Isaac.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.

Y/N immediately reached for the door handle, but Rafe locked the doors before she could get out.

Her head snapped toward him. “Rafe—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was low, deadly.

She swallowed, gripping the strap of her purse. “I—”

“You lied to me,” he growled.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh my god, Rafe, it’s just dinner. It’s not that deep.”

He turned in his seat, his glare burning into her. “You lied to my face. Unbelievable.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a prick about this,” she shot back. “It’s not like I’m marrying the guy.”

“You’re not going in there.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

And before she could react, he was reaching across the console, grabbing ger phone out of her hand.

Isaac stood there, looking thoroughly confused. Rafe shot him a glare so deadly that the guy took an instinctive step back. Rafe tossed her phone into the backseat before she could do anything.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped.

“Shut up,” he muttered, reversing out of the parking lot.

“I hate you.”

“Cool.”

She seethed in silence the entire drive home.

When they got back, she stomped into the living room, throwing herself onto the couch with her arms crossed.

Rafe leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “You done pouting yet?”

Nothing.

He exhaled sharply. “I had my friend Jake look into Isaac.”She didn’t react, but he knew he had her attention. “He’s got a long history of being a piece of shit,” he continued. “Fraud, assault charges, a couple of restraining orders. You really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

She scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Rafe pulled out his phone, scrolled through the messages Jake had sent him, and tossed it onto the table in front of her.

“Read it.”

She hesitated before picking up the phone. As her eyes scanned the texts, her face slowly fell.

She swallowed. “I—”

Rafe waited.

She set the phone down, avoiding his gaze. “I’m… sorry.”

His lips twitched slightly. “It’s my job, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything more.”

A silence settled between them, but this time, it wasn’t tense. It was… comfortable.

She stood up from the couch shortly after heading towards the back door

“Where are you going?” Rafe asked watching her from the couch

“I just need air.” She mumbled as he got up and followed her out as she made her way down to the pond at the end of the garden. She sat down picking at the grass below her as Rafe hovered behind her unsure if she should sit down

“You can sit you know.” She said not looking back at him but feeling his presence. And he did just that. Rafe took a seat next to her not too close but close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating off him.

The pair sat in silence for a while neither one of them ready to start the conversation. He knew she was upset at what he’d shown her about Isaac but he didn’t know how to approach the topic without upsetting her more.

Y/N let out a sigh, shivering slightly as the cool night air nipped at her skin. The estate grounds were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the garden lights. She pulled her arms around herself, regretting not grabbing a jacket before coming outside.

Rafe noticed.

Without a word, he shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She blinked in surprise but pulled it tighter around herself, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. “Thank you.”

He nodded, settling onto the bench beside her.

“You don’t have to sit with me out here,” she murmured. “I’m not gonna run off.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “You sure about that?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, the usual tension that existed between them momentarily absent.

“Tell me about you,” she said after a beat.

Rafe raised a brow. “There’s not much to tell.”

“If we’re going to be stuck together every day for the foreseeable future, don’t you think we should get to know each other?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. You go first.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite color?” He asked and she rolled her eyes with a soft smile playing on her lips

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

“Answer the question.”

He sighed, but there was amusement in her voice when she responded, “Fine… red.”

he nodded, processing her answer. “Your turn.”

“Green,” He said “What’s your favorite flower?”

“Why? You gonna buy me some to win me over?” she teased.

“Y/N.”

She smirked before sighing. “Lilies.”

Rafe hummed. “Good choice.”

She leaned back laying down on the grass, looking up at the sky. “What did you want to be when you were growing up?”

“An astronaut.”

She turned to look at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded. “What about you?”

“A princess.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle. “Well, you’re halfway there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

A gentle breeze blew through the garden, ruffling her hair slightly. Rafe watched as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear.

“What were you doing before you were hired by my dad?” she asked.

“I worked for a friend of his,” he admitted. “Just security stuff. His friend recommended me when your dad mentioned needing someone… said he should hire someone closer to your age. That you’d cope better.”

She frowned. “Aren’t you like, twenty-six? How is that close to my age?”

“Watch it, princess, you’re twenty-two.”

She huffed but didn’t argue.

“My turn,” he said. “Why have you been lashing out?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She exhaled through her nose, staring down at her hands.

“It’s the only way to get him to notice me,” she admitted.

Rafe frowned. “He notices you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she whispered. “To him, I’m just another obligation. Another issue he has to fix. Not his daughter.”

Rafe was silent for a moment. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

His chest tightened at the rawness in her voice, the way her usual sharp edges seemed dulled by exhaustion.

“Tell me about your family,” she said suddenly, shifting the subject.

He hesitated but eventually answered, “My mom wasn’t in the picture growing up, but I had my dad. He was a hardass with a mean streak… and I felt like I had to protect my sisters from him.”

She lifted her gaze. “Sisters?”

“Sarah and Louisa.”

“Do you miss them?”

His jaw tensed. “Yeah… but I got into some bad shit. It was better for me to leave than drag them into that.”

She studied him carefully. “What bad shit?”

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face.

“I got into drugs. Real bad. Was basically an addict,” he admitted. “Started hurting people. I wasn’t a good guy.”Her heart clenched slightly at the admission.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Rafe glanced at her. “Why are you sorry?”

“Must have been difficult.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if surprised by her empathy. “It was.”

She gave a small nod. “I’m glad you told me.”

He scoffed lightly. “Don’t go using it against me.”

She smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Silence settled between them again, but this time, it wasn’t awkward. It was… understanding.

Rafe checked his watch. “We should head back inside. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

For once, she didn’t argue. Didn’t protest. She just nodded, letting him guide her back toward the house, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back.

As they stepped inside, she hesitated before turning to him.

“Do you want to watch TV with me?”

His brows raised slightly, surprised by the offer. But then he nodded.

“Sure.”

At some point, she drifted off, curled up on the couch. Rafe sighed, running a hand down his face. He should wake her up. Instead, he just looked at her.

She was beautiful.

Her long lashes rested against her cheeks, lips slightly parted, and her breathing was slow and steady. After a moment, he carefully scooped her up into his arms and carried her upstairs.

She stirred slightly when he set her down on the bed but didn’t wake up.

He hesitated before brushing a stray curl from her face.

Then he left, heading to his own room to get some work done. Not even ten minutes later, there was a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he called. Her father stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back.

“How’s it going?” he asked. Rafe exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s stubborn as hell.”

A chuckle. “That she is.”

“But I think I made progress tonight.”

Her dad nodded, pleased. “Good. Very good.”

Then he smirked slightly. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, isn’t it?”

Rafe stilled. “Yeah?”

“Which means it’s your day off.” Rafe clenched his jaw but nodded. Her dad patted him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your day off, son.”

—

Y/N woke up the next morning, stretching.

Something felt off.

She got up, grabbed her robe, and made her way downstairs. “Dad?” she called. He looked up from the dining table. “Morning.”

“Where’s Rafe?” she asked looking around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed him

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s Sunday.”

She frowned. “And?”

Her dad sighed, setting down his coffee. “It’s his day off, Y/N.”

“Oh.” She tried to ignore the weird pit in her stomach. So, she did what she always did when she had an ounce of freedom.

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, examining the final touches of her outfit. A sleek black dress hugged her curves perfectly, the hem stopping just above mid-thigh. Her hair cascaded in soft waves, and her makeup was flawless—just enough to make her look effortlessly stunning.

Her phone was propped up on the vanity, speaker on as her best friend, Sasha, giggled through the line.

“Okay, tell me again why you’re so determined to ditch Rafe tonight?” Sasha asked, amusement laced in her tone.

“Because, Sash, I refuse to have him trailing behind me like some overbearing babysitter,” Y/N huffed, swiping on one last coat of lip gloss. “Tonight is supposed to be fun. You know, one of our feral nights out—no rules, no drama, just chaos and shots.”

“Oh, I love when you get like this,” Sasha laughed. “So how exactly are you ditching Mr. Tall, Broody, and Controlling?”

Y/N smirked as she slipped on her heels. “My dad gave him Sundays off, remember?”

Sasha gasped. “No way. You have a Rafe-free night?”

“Exactly,” Y/N grinned. “I can finally breathe.”

“Girl, you better take full advantage of this. I want you sloppy, I want you dancing on tables, I want—”

“You want me to end up in a ditch?” Y/N snorted.

“I want you to have a night to remember.”

Y/N laughed, grabbing her bag. “Pick me up in ten.”

“Done.”

She hung up the phone, took one last glance at herself in the mirror, and smirked. Tonight was her night.

Just as she was about to step out the door she got a message. From Rafe.

Rafe: don’t do anything stupid tonight

She laughed slightly before typing back

Y/n: would I ever

—

The club was alive.

The bass of the music thrummed through her chest, neon lights flashed in hypnotic patterns, and the air was thick with alcohol, perfume, and sweat. Bodies moved together on the dance floor, drinks were poured relentlessly, and laughter mixed with the hum of conversation.

Y/N was in her element.

She and Sasha had wasted no time throwing back shots the second they arrived, the burn of tequila warming her throat as she slammed the glass back onto the bar with a grin.

Sasha whooped, wrapping an arm around her. “That’s my girl! We are getting messy tonight.”

Y/N giggled, already feeling the early buzz seep into her system. She scanned the club, taking in the familiar chaos, when one of their friends leaned in closer, a smirk playing on her lips.

“So… where’s Rafe?” Lucy asked

Y/N rolled her eyes, immediately ordering another drink. “Not here.”

Her friend snickered. “You sound way too excited about that.”

“Because I am,” Y/N declared, accepting the new shot and knocking it back without hesitation. “I swear, he’s always breathing down my neck, acting like I’m some fragile little thing that needs protecting. But guess what? I’m not.”

Sasha nodded in agreement. “Yeah, babe can handle herself.”

Her friend raised a brow. “Mm-hmm. And yet, you’re still talking about him.”

Y/N scoffed, grabbing Sasha’s drink and downing it just to prove a point.

“See? Not talking about him,” she said, voice already tinged with drunken confidence.

“Uh-huh.”

Y/N ignored the smirk her friend was giving her, choosing instead to drag Sasha toward the dance floor.

They lost themselves in the music, the beat pulsing through their veins as they swayed and laughed, hands in the air, heads thrown back in unfiltered joy.

More shots.

More drinks.

More bad decisions.

At some point, Y/N had taken off her heels, dancing barefoot on the velvet carpet. She had no idea how long they had been there, only that the room spun in the most delightful way, her limbs loose, her laughter uncontrollable.

“Another round?” Sasha shouted over the music. But y/n had already disappeared

Y/n found herself the bathroom, phone in hand. Before she could stop herself, she called him. He picked up after one ring.

“Where the fuck are you?” He asked hearing the buzz of music in the background of the call

She sniffled. “I hate you.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re ruining my life,” she sobbed.

“Where are you?” He ignored the comment

“At the bar.” She mumbled

“ON YOUR OWN?” Rafe yelled she could hear the jingle of his keys on the other end of the phone

“N-No, one of the other bodyguards is here, but I don’t—I can’t see him.”

She heard him curse under his breath.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I don’t care.” He snapped

She hiccupped. “You’re always so mean to me.”

He sighed. “Listen, pretty, I know you’re upset. I’m ten minutes out, okay? Just stay where you are.”

Her heart stuttered at the nickname.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.” He whispered

“Don’t hang up…please.” She mumbled leaving the bathroom and heading to the bar. Y/N swayed slightly as she leaned against the bar, phone pressed to her ear. The club pulsed around her—music vibrating through the floor, neon lights flashing, drunken laughter echoing from all directions. But none of that mattered. The only thing keeping her grounded was the deep, steady voice on the other end of the line.

“You still with me, pretty?”

His voice was sharp, controlled, but underneath it, there was an edge—something dangerous.

She let out a small sigh. “Mhm.”

A pause. Then, quieter, “You okay?”

She ran a hand through her tangled hair, blinking against the haze of alcohol. “I think I drank too much.”

Rafe swore under his breath. “Stay where you are. I’m almost there.”

She smirked to herself. “You’re always telling me what to do.”

“Because you never fucking listen,” he snapped.

That made her giggle. “Touché.”

He sighed. “Almost there, pretty.”

She bit her lip. That word again. She liked it.

Then—his voice dropped even lower. “Y/N. Get your ass outside. Now.”

She groaned dramatically, but against her better judgment, she obeyed.

The night air was crisp as Y/N stepped outside, the chill instantly biting at her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly as the neon glow from the club cast shifting colors across the pavement.

She had expected the same sleek black car waiting for her, the same serious Rafe Cameron stepping out in his tailored suit, looking every bit the professional bodyguard her father had hired.

But that wasn’t what she got.

Instead, he was leaning against his car in nothing but a pair of grey joggers and a black hoodie, the sleeves slightly pushed up to reveal his forearms. His hair was tousled, not gelled back like usual, and there was no gun holstered at his side, no suit jacket stiffening his posture.

He looked… different.

He looked good.

No, not just good—cute. Not that she’d ever admit it.

Y/N swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to be pissed at him. But then his sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, scanning her up and down.

And he was furious.

His jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffening as he pushed off the car. “Get in.”

She hesitated. “Rafe, I—”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/N.”

His voice was low, barely restrained, and for the first time tonight, she realized just how angry he was.

Before she could move, the doors of the club burst open behind her, and her assigned bodyguard—the bodyguard—came running out, face pale, eyes wide with panic.

“Oh, fuck—oh, fuck—where did she—” He skidded to a stop when he saw her standing there. “Jesus Christ, I thought I lost you—”

Rafe moved so fast she barely saw it happen.

One second, he was standing beside his car. The next, he had the guy by the collar, slamming him into the brick wall behind them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe growled, voice dark, menacing.

The bodyguard barely had time to process what was happening. “I—I just turned around for a second—”

“A second?” Rafe’s grip tightened. “You lost her in a fucking club?!”

“I—she said she was going to the bathroom, I thought—”

“And you believed her?” Rafe shoved him harder against the wall. “What kind of fucking moron are you?”

“I—I won’t let it happen again—”

“You’re damn right you won’t. Because if you ever take your eyes off her again, I will personally make sure you neverwork security again. Do you fucking understand me?”

The bodyguard stammered something incoherent, his face ghostly white.

Y/N’s heart pounded. She had never seen Rafe like this. Never.

She knew he had a temper, had seen him get irritated, seen him be cold and distant. But this? This was something else. This was rage. This was pure, unfiltered fury.

And it was all for her.

She should’ve been scared. Maybe a little concerned. Instead, her chest tightened in a way she didn’t quite understand.

“Rafe,” she said softly.

His grip didn’t loosen

“Rafe,” she tried again, stepping closer.

His shoulders were still rigid, but he finally turned his head, his piercing gaze meeting hers.

“Take me home,” she murmured.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to ignore her, like he was still too pissed to let it go. But then he exhaled sharply, his grip on the guy’s collar relaxing before he shoved him away with a disgusted scoff.

The bodyguard stumbled, catching himself against the wall. Rafe didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he walked straight to the car and opened the passenger door, jerking his chin toward her.

“Get in.”

She obeyed without another word.

The silence in the car was thick, suffocating. Y/N sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, her head resting against the window. The neon lights of the city flashed past them, but she barely noticed.

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white as he stared straight ahead, his jaw still clenched. She stole a glance at him.

Even now, still simmering with anger, he looked—good. The way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders, the way his joggers hung low on his hips. It was a stark contrast to the tailored suits he usually wore, and she hated how much she liked it.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they pulled up to the house.

Rafe killed the engine and immediately stepped out, stalking around to open her door.

She blinked up at him. “You don’t have to—”

“Get inside.” His voice was softer now, but still firm. She swallowed, nodding as she climbed out.

He followed her up the stairs, and when they reached her bedroom door, he exhaled. “You need to get ready for bed.”

She groaned. “Don’t wanna.”

“Y/N.” She rolled her eyes, but as she stepped toward the bathroom, her foot caught on the rug, and she stumbled.

Rafe caught her instantly.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Alright, that’s it. You’re done making decisions tonight.”

She blinked up at him, dazed. “You’re being… nice.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t get used to it, princess.”

She flopped down on the edge of her bed, kicking off her heels. Rafe disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a makeup wipe.

Then—to her absolute shock—he crouched in front of her, tilting her chin up as he gently wiped the smudged mascara and foundation from her face.

His touch was gentle.

Y/N swallowed. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Clearly, I do.”

She pouted slightly. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass.”

Still, he let her lean on him as he helped her change into an oversized T-shirt, then passed her a bottle of water and two aspirin.

“Drink.”

She took small sips, watching him carefully.

After a moment, he exhaled. “I know this is hard for you. Having me follow your every move, breathing down your neck. I know you hate it.”

She bit her lip, not saying anything.

“I don’t mean to be overbearing,” he continued. “I just… I need to look out for you.”

She turned to him. “I know it’s not your fault.”

He studied her carefully. “I’m sorry for saying I hate you,” she muttered.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. “Apology accepted.”

She exhaled, leaning back against the pillows.

For the first time in a long time, it felt easy. A comfortable silence settled between them. Rafe watched as her breathing slowed, her eyes fluttering shut. He should’ve gotten up, should’ve gone to his own room. But instead, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She was already asleep.

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

"Still hate me?"

"S-shit!" I murmured, stumbling backward and landing on the cold, hard floor. The room was spinning, my vision blurred by a sea of faces that all seemed to be laughing at me. I was so drunk it was hard to even make out the words that were being thrown around, the music pounding in my ears like a never-ending headache.

"Looks like someone had a little too much fun," a voice said, cold and mocking.

I looked up to see Billie standing over me, her signature black hair falling around her.

i roll my eyes "Bite me."

"With pleasure," she smirked, extending a hand to help me up.

I took it begrudgingly, and she yanked me up onto my feet.

"Thanks I guess." I muttered, brushing off my clothes.

"You're welcome," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

We hated each other. It had been a long-standing rivalry that had started when we were just kids. But tonight was different. The alcohol had lowered my inhibitions, and the way she was looking at me, with a glint in her eye that I had never seen before, was sending my heart racing in a way that was anything but friendly.

"well, i'll see you around," I stumbled away from her.

"Not if I see you first," she called after me.

I managed to make my way to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. "What the hell is going on?" I whispered to my reflection. as I reapply my mascara and lip gloss, all I can think about is Billie, the way she walks, talks, and her eyes.

When I came out, Billie was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "you doin' alright?" she asked.

"Fine," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Just had to take a breather, Why do you care?"

"Who told you I care?" she said, pushing off the wall and coming closer. "I just don't want to see you make a fool of yourself."

"I can handle myself," I snapped.

"Oh, I think we both know that's not true," she said, her voice low and challenging. "But maybe I can help you with that."

Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a nearby room, closing the door behind us.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelped.

"Just what you need," she said, her eyes darkening.

And before I knew it, her lips were pressed against mine, hard and demanding. I gasped in surprise, but she took the opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, like fireworks going off in my head.

I weakly claw against her chest, but she ignored it. "Billie," I murmured, not sounding nearly as confident as I wanted to.

"Want me to stop?" she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot and sweet.

"No," I found myself admitting, my hands moving to her waist.

"Good," she said, and then she kissed me again, this time with more force.

Her hands were everywhere, roaming over my body as if she owned it. She pushed me against the wall, her body pressing into mine as she kissed down my neck. I could feel my knees giving out, but she held me up, her grip on my hips firm and possessive.

"You like that?" she murmured, her teeth grazing my earlobe.

"Yes," I breathed, arching my neck to give her better access.

"You're so responsive," she said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Her hands slid up my shirt, and she began to unbutton my pants. "Billie-"

"I said I'd help you," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I always keep my promises."

Her hands found my skin, and she began to tease me, her fingertips lightly tracing patterns along my stomach and hips. I couldn't help the little moan that escaped my lips.

"See?" she said, her breath hot against my neck. "You need this."

I nodded, unable to form words. She was right. I needed it. I needed her.

Her hands found my breasts, and she began to massage them through my shirt. I gasped as she pinched my nipples, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body.

"Take it off," she ordered, and I complied, letting my shirt fall to the floor. She took a moment to appreciate the view, her eyes lingering on my bare skin before she bent down to kiss me again.

Her mouth moved from my neck to my breasts, her teeth scraping against my sensitive flesh as she sucked and licked. I was lost in sensation, my mind a haze of pleasure.

"Billie," I whimpered, my hands fisting in her hair.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice low and seductive.

"You," I said simply.

"Good girl," she murmured, her hand sliding down to unzip my pants. She pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me naked before her.

"Now, get on the bed," she said, pointing to the rumpled mess in the corner of the room.

I obeyed, my legs shaking as I climbed onto the mattress. She followed, straddling my hips and looking down at me with a wicked smile.

"Such a slut, aren't you, hm?" she said, her voice filled with a mocking affection. "Begging for it like this."

"I'm not a slut," I protested weakly.

"Oh no?" she said, her thumb circling my clit. "Then tell me what you want."

"I-I want you to-to fuck me," I stuttered, my face burning with embarrassment.

"That's more like it," she said, and she leaned down to kiss me again. Her hand continued to work my clit, her fingers sliding in and out of me with an expert touch.

I moaned into her mouth, my body responding to her every move. She was in complete control, and I loved it.

"You're so wet," she coos, "Just for me, hm?"

"Yes," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Billie smirked, moving down to kiss my stomach and then lower. She hovered over my pussy, her breath making me squirm.

"Please Billie" I begged. "need you s'bad."

Without another word, she buried her face between my legs, her tongue sliding through my folds and finding my clit. She licked and sucked with a passion that surprised me.

"Fuck," I gasped, my back arching.

suddenly she stops.

"Need you to be quiet ma, can't have anyone one knowing you're gettin' fucked so good by your enemy,can you?"

I nodded, biting my lip to stifle my moans. She grinned and went back to work, her tongue moving with an intensity that had me seeing stars.

I felt my orgasm building, my muscles tightening as she brought me closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie," I moan a bit to loud causing her to stop

"What did I say?" she looked up at me, her eyes dark and demanding. She glides up and wraps her hand around my chin, forcing me to look at her. "Hm, didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

I nodded again, my eyes wide.

"Words."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good," she said, reaching down and lightly biting my neck and then sucking on the spot to sooth the pain. She starts to kiss me again, and I felt myself getting wetter.

Her fingers slid into me again, moving in a rhythm that made me see spots. I bit my lip harder, trying to keep the noise in.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice filled with satisfaction. "Take it all for me."

And then she was moving again, her tongue flicking against my clit as she curled her fingers inside of me. It was too much. I couldn't hold back anymore.

My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, my body convulsing as she continued to lick and suck. I moaned quietly, my eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure consumed me.

"Good girl" she said, moving back up to kiss me, her mouth tasting of me.

I looked up at her, my vision still hazy.

"You're not done yet," she said, her voice still firm.

She climbed off the bed and reached into the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a strap-on.

"What are you-?" I started to protest, but she silenced me with a look.

"I'm going to fuck you," she said, her voice cold and commanding.

"turn around, ass up." she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I did as I was told, my heart racing as she secured the strap-on around her hips.

"Ready?" she asked, her hand resting on my lower back.

I nodded, my voice lost.

"I can't hear you," she says, tugging on my hair to make a makeshift ponytail with her fist.

"Yes," I murmured.

"Good."

And then she was pushing into me, the strap-on filling me up in a way that was both painful and exhilarating.

"Fuck," I gasped.

"That's it," she said, her hand coming down on my ass in a firm slap. "Take it."

Her strokes grew harder, faster, and I found myself pushing back into her, craving more. She slapped me again, and I moaned, my body on fire.

"You like it, don't you my little slut?" she asked, her voice taunting.

"Y-yes," I stuttered, my cheeks flushing.

Her free and snakes it way to my throat ,"You're mine, aren't you?" she whispers, her grip tightening.

"Y-yes," I croak out.

Her hand releases my throat, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Good," she says, her voice softer now.

Tears of pleasure stream down my face as she picks up the speed of her thrusts. It's almost too much, but I want more. I need more.

"Billie," I whine, "I'm going to-"

"Don't you fucking dare, not yet." She says, slapping me again.

I moan, my body shaking with the effort to hold back.

"Look at me," she orders.

I turn my head, and she's there, her eyes locked on mine. They're not cold anymore, but filled with something else, something that makes my heart race even faster.

"Come for me," she whispers, and that's all it takes.

My second orgasm hits me like a truck, my body spasming around her as I scream out her name. She groans, her own pleasure clear in her voice.

"Still hate me?"

____

posted on October 6th 2024 || not proofread.

[woollypoison]

The last time: part 1

Itzy Lia x m reader A/N: Like all my itzy part 1s I'm trying out, this has no smut yet. Just fluff. Smut will come in the next chapters. Word count: 2,568 words

The music is loud, but not loud enough. This place smells like sweat and cheap alcohol, the exact same mixture you can find at any college party. People shout over each other, cups crinkle under people’s dancing feet, and everyone is touching everyone.

You should be enjoying yourself, but even the loudest distractions can’t prevent your eyes from being locked on to Lia.

She stands near the edge of the room, far away from the life of the party, arms crossed, tears swelling in the corners of her eyes but refusing to spill over. Her boyfriend—the eternal class act that he is—leans in close, probably spouting some bullshit. His expression is all smooth confidence, but hers is hurt. You don’t need to hear what he’s saying. You already know. You saw him, lips on another girl, bodies flush against each other like Lia never existed in the first place. And now, he’s feeding her some excuse, no doubt in his mind that she will just swallow it like she always does.

But something’s different this time. She’s not buying it, and she’s not giving in. And then, just like that, he sighs, throws up his hands, and walks away. No fight, no desperation. He just walks away from her like she was never worth the effort.

You don’t even hesitate. No time to. She’s your best friend after all. You move.

Lia barely reacts as you step in beside her, but when you nudge her arm, she exhales, already privy to your antics. “Not now.”

“If it’s up to you, it’s not ever,” you correct. You don’t wait for permission. You snag a bottle of whiskey from the counter next to her and pop the cap. “Drink with me!”

She hesitates. She’s reluctant. “I don’t feel like drinking.”

“And I don’t feel like letting you mope tonight.” You take a swig straight from the bottle and hand it to her. It burns, but it’s bright and distracting. “Come on. When was the last time you lived a little?”

She eyes you, then the bottle, then you again. Something shifts in her expression—anger, defiance, something that reminds her of memories long buried. She snatches the bottle from your grasp and takes a drink. It burns, and she coughs, but she doesn’t hand it back.

You grin. “That’s the spirit!”

She scoffs through the coughs, but the corner of her lips twitch. “Shut up.”

You’re already scanning the party, looking for something to pull her out of her own head. There’s a group playing beer pong, hyping each other up like they’re at the Olympics. Perfect.

You drag Lia along with you, as you approach the would-be champions. Without warning, you grab a ball off the table and line up a shot. The guy who was about to throw blinks at you. “Dude, what the hell?”

You ignore him and flick your wrist towards victory. The ball arcs, bounces once, and lands straight into a cup. The crowd reacts with a mix of cheers and protests, but you don’t care. You turn to Lia, smirking with satisfaction, and hand her the next ball. “Your turn.”

She stares at you. Her body is shrinking, and it looks like she might retreat into her shell. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re up.”

Lia glances at the crowd watching, the challenge hanging in the air. She looks at you, your smile going from one ear to the other encouraging her to partake. She takes a deep breath, takes the ball, straightens her shoulders, and throws. The ball drops into a cup flawlessly.

The room erupts. The guy whose game you interrupted throws his arms up in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lia doesn’t gloat. She just picks up the cup, downs the beer inside, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand like she’s been doing this her whole life. Then, she looks at you.

You whistle. “Damn.”

She smirks. “What can I say?”

You step in close, voice level adjusted to be just for her. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

She exhales, something loosening in her. “Yeah. It kind of is.”

But you’re not stopping here.

You scan the room for the next move. You spot it, your next target—an old speaker, unattended and inviting on a counter, playing the same overplayed pop song. With Lia in tow, you stride over and connect your phone. The music cuts off, and a few people groan, but you just open your library and hit play.

A completely different song blasts through the room. Something more obscure, something wilder.

People react immediately, some booing, others cheering. Lia’s eyes react instinctively. “Wait, this song—”

“You like this song,” you fall in, leaving no doubt about the reason for your choice.

She laughs, the sound light, unburdened but restrained. “I do.”

“So dance.”

She hesitates, but you grab her hand, spinning her once. She stumbles into you, laughing despite herself. The party moves on around you, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you, caught in your own little world.

You can see it on her face. For the first time tonight, Lia isn’t thinking about him.

But the moment shatters. Your efforts were beginning to bear fruit, but they were spoiled too soon.

From across the room, he approaches. Her boyfriend’s voice, loud and annoyed, pierces the carefully crafted atmosphere. “Lia, what the hell are you doing?”

You don’t even have to turn to see him pushing his way through the crowd, eyes locked on her, clenched fists like he was preparing for a fight. The fun, the freedom, it all fades from existence, from her face—hesitation, guilt trying to creep back in.

Not this time. You’ve seen it happen countless times before now.

You lean in close, voice out her boyfriend's reach. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looks at you, uncertain of it all.

Then, her boyfriend calls her name again, sharper this time, as if she’s making another mistake. But she knows better.

Lia grabs your wrist in her first act of defiance. “Let’s go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You let her lead you outside the house, but once outside, the roles reverse. You don’t let her pause, let her stop here. Instead, you take her even further away from the party to the first and best thing your mind can think of.

The arcade is alive with flashing neon lights, the chaotic symphony of electronic jingles and mixed reactions filling the air. You shove a few bills into the token machine, spilling a handful into your palm before tossing a few to Lia. She catches them like it’s a practiced act, but her expression is skeptical.

“You seriously dragged me to an arcade?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at your great escape.

“You seriously gonna tell me you’re too cool for this?” You grin, nudging her towards the air hockey tables. “Come on, we’re settling this once and for all. Air hockey. I used to smoke you all the time. Loser gets a punishment.”

Lia chortles, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind her eyes. “You’re on.”

You pick your table, and from the second the puck drops, it’s war. Lia is fast, but her shots are wild. She misses easy blocks, fumbling the paddle once, but she’s so caught up in the fun she doesn’t notice how you start easing up, letting her slip goals past you. When she scores the final point, she throws her arms up, victorious.

“Destroying you has never felt better,” she teases, gloating as if she just settled a lifelong rivalry.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Alright, alright. Fair’s fair. What’s my punishment?”

She taps a finger against her chin before smirking. “Close your eyes.”

You sigh but comply. You’re not a sore loser, not after choosing to be one. A few moments later, she presses a cold can into your hands. You pop it open and take a sip—immediately regretting it. “What the hell is this?!”

Lia bursts into laughter. “Carbonated milk. Consider it payback.”

You sputter the concoction, wiping your mouth of its filth. “That’s foul.”

Her grin is as proud as it was mischievous. “Exactly.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. You’ve missed this. Missed spending time with her. “Alright, let’s move on. I’m winning you something.”

You drag her to the claw machine, and she crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Please, these things are rigged.”

“Not when you’ve got my skills.” You crack your knuckles, putting on an exaggerated show of focus as you deftly maneuver the claw. Lia observes your performance, still skeptical, until the claw actually snags onto a small stuffed bear and holds on long enough to drop it into the chute.

You scoop it out and hand it to her, the bravado of a man who won a teddy bear ten times the size you just had. “Told you.”

She takes it, eyes softer than before. “I… didn’t think you’d actually get it.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She holds the bear against her chest for a moment before stuffing it into her bag. “Alright, I’ll admit. That was kind of sweet.”

“Kind of?”

She rolls her eyes in the same mock annoyance she must have learned from you. Or was it you who learned it from her? Either way, she doesn’t argue any further.

Eventually, you both step out of the arcade looking for your next distraction, the night air cool against your skin. Lia stretches her arms over her head, exhaling. “Alright, what’s next?”

You glance around, spotting a near-empty grocery store parking lot, an idea sparking in your mind. A childish smile spreads across your face. “I think I see our next challenge.”

Lia follows the direction of your gaze to an abandoned shopping cart and lets out an incredulous laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, come on. You trust me, right?” Your rebuttal is tempting, tempting enough to get her to hum as she considers it.

She shakes her head but, to your delight, climbs into the cart. “Alright. Just don’t kill me.”

You take a running start, the wheels rattling as you push her through the empty lot. Lia shrieks high pitched and filled with life, clutching the sides as you pick up speed, laughter bubbling past her lips. It’s reckless and stupid, but it feels good—feels free.

When you finally slow down, she’s breathless, her face suddenly inches from yours. She doesn’t move away. You don’t want to either.

The cool air becomes heavy, something new unraveling in the little distance between your eyes.

Before you can say something you didn’t stop to think about, Lia clears her throat and looks away. “We should—keep going. What’s next?”

You nod, shaking off the moment just as easily as it came. “Let’s go find something else to conquer.”

You end up outside a rundown photo booth near an old convenience store, its flickering sign barely hanging on. The joy on your face says everything Lia needs to know. She eyes it, then you. “Seriously?”

“Come on. Gotta commemorate the night somehow!”

She huffs, exhaling air through her nose in a quick burst but follows you inside. The cramped space forces you close, her shoulder pressing into yours as she scoots barely into frame. The first flash goes off as she makes a face, sticking her tongue out.You paint a big smile on your face for the picture, throwing an arm around her to pull her into the frame for the next one.

Then, right before the third flash, you can feel Lia’s body tense up against yours. She’s planning something. She looks at you, really looks at you, before smirking mischievously. You can’t help but wonder what prank she has planned to pull on you, but you’ll let it happen nonetheless. Cheering her up was worth it all.

And then, instead of some grand, over-the-top stunt, she does something quieter. She leans in, sliding deeper under your arm, her head resting against your shoulder. Her fingers interlock with yours, and she doesn’t let go.

The camera flashes.

You glance down at her, your chest squeezing tighter then when you were pushing her around in a cart. She doesn’t say anything, just stays there, close, warm. The playful air shifts—becomes something calm.

She doesn’t move away, doesn’t laugh it off. Just holds your hand a little tighter, waiting. You rub your thumb over hers. It’s soothing. You’re just friends. You had never even considered Lia as something else. But what if…?

The next flash of the camera captures the sudden stillness, the quiet storm brewing between and inside of you.

You let out a breath, finally looking away. “Come on,” you murmur, squeezing her hand once before standing. “I know where we can go next.”

As you step out into the night, Lia doesn’t let go of your hand right away. She lingers, thumb brushing against your skin before finally, hesitantly, letting it slip away. Neither of you comment further on it.

After a few moments of walking in silence, you glance at her. “You remember the old jungle gym?”

She blinks, then lets out a soft laugh. “From middle school? The one we used to sit at, talking about nothing for hours?”

“Exactly, that’s the one! Haven’t been there in years.”

Lia tilts her head, considering. Then she smiles, a green light signal to go ahead. “Let’s go.”

You climb to the top of the jungle gym together, the city humming in the distance, but here, beneath the stars, everything feels still.

Lia stretches out, staring up at the sky absentmindedly. “It’s weird. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this.”

“What? We used to climb this thing all the time.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, not that! Just… let go like this.”

You watch her, the way her hair falls against the worn metal, the way the moonlight catches in her eyes. “We used to do that too all the time,” you remind her. “Back when we had nothing better to do than waste time here.”

She smiles faintly. “Yeah. Before everything got… complicated.”

You don’t say anything, only offering a smile that reaches half of your lips. You just watch her as she rolls onto her side, propping herself on an elbow facing you. “Why are you doing this?” she asks suddenly, eyes searching yours as if they’ll provide the answer.

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“This.” She gestures vaguely around her and towards you. “Dragging me around, making me forget about him.”

Your throat tightens. You think about saying something inflammatory about her boyfriend, but don’t even want to let a thought of him taint this place. “Because I hate seeing you like that.”

She studies you, her gaze flickering over your face. She looks down. Her smile is small but real. Like she’s happy she’s here now, but already mourning the fact that it won’t last. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s easy when you’re with me.”

When you’re starving, and you have a bite, you only end up craving more. That same hunger is consuming Lia right now. She’s feasting on this moment, indulging in every reckless, fleeting moment like she's been starving for it. Watching her like this, so alive, enjoying each minute she has—you can’t help but feel the hunger too.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 2 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

Sam’s words die in the back of her throat when she sees me and for a moment we just stare at each other.

It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and even though I would still recognize her anywhere, she’s changed a lot.

She’s no longer a troubled teenager who relies on drugs and petty crime to feel good. No, she’s all grown up now, like me, and despite her tired and worry filled eyes she looks healthy. She looks good in her green jacket and with her hair up in a claw clip.

A wave of bitterness washes over me and I have half a mind to turn back around and walk out of the room again.

She came back for Tara, but she didn’t come back for me when I needed her the most.

I know it’s unfair to compare the two situations, I wasn’t attacked by a psycho, but I did almost die along with my parents.

“Y/N.” Her voice is soft, unlike the last time I heard it when she screamed at me to stop calling her.

I swallow harshly and try to keep any emotions off my face. “Hello, Sam.”

The twins share a confused look, and Wes and Amber watch Tara to see how she’s reacting to this unexpected reunion.

“You’re hurt.” She gets up from my chair next to the bed and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Tara said you were stabbed saving her.” I nod and when she takes another step forward, I instinctively take a step back. She freezes and something like hurt flits across her face.

It makes my insides clench up because I never thought I’d ever be the reason for that look on her face, but then again, she’s hurt me so much in the past, I think stepping back because I don’t want to be hugged or touched by her seems like a normal reaction.

She goes to say something, her brown eyes soft and pleading, but then the door opens and in steps a guy I don’t recognize.

“Sam do you want anything from the— Oh, hello,” he smiles when he sees me, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Richie, Sam’s boyfriend.”

My heart drops. Boyfriend. Right.

I force myself not to look at Sam and shake his hand when he offers it to me. “Y/N. I’m. . .” Sam’s best friend? No, not anymore. “I’m Tara’s friend.”

His smile brightens and he says, “Ah yes, you’re the one who saved her, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quietly, shifting my arm in the sling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he continues. “What you did is very impressive. Not many people would have tackled a psychotic killer with a knife.”

My gaze darts to Sam for a split second. She’s sat back down next to Tara again, but her eyes haven’t left me. There’s now a guilty look on her face and when she realizes I’m looking at her, she quickly averts her eyes and buries her hands in her lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I snap. I acted because I knew if I didn’t, Tara would get killed. I didn’t do it to come off as braver or heroic, and something about being praised for it rubs me the wrong way.

Richie’s eyes widen and he quickly tries to back-pedal. “No, of course not. I understand. I’m just saying—“

I clench my jaw and lift a hand to stop him “Save it. I don’t care.”

Technically, he’s done nothing wrong, but I already don’t like him and it’s not because he’s Sam’s boyfriend. No, that’s not the reason. Not at all.

“Y/N!”

Oh hell no.

“What, Sam?” I ask, pinning her down with a challenging glare.

She flinches and frowns. I’ve never, never, talked to her like this before.

“I—“

She’s once again interrupted just like when Richie entered the room. This time, however, it’s by Amber who speaks up with a sheepish smile on her face. “Guys, Tara is really tired. Maybe we should give her some space.”

I stop glaring at Sam and look at Tara. She does look pretty tired. Her eyes are glassy and it looks like every breath she takes is exhausting.

The twins and Wes agree, leaving with Amber after Amber gives Tara a hug. Sam gets up as well, but Tara asks her to stay and since I promised I wouldn’t leave until Ghostface is caught, I stay as well.

Richie looks back and forth between Sam and me, now no longer oblivious to the tension, before taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

Of course he’s staying, too. For fuck’s sake. . .

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I ignore Sam who’s once again looking at me, and focus on Tara.

“Do you still have my inhaler?” she asks and I shake my head.

“No, I’m sorry. I dropped it in your driveway, but I can go and get it if you want,” I offer.

No matter what terms Sam and I are on, I know she won’t let anything happen to Tara if I’m not here, and if Tara wants me to go and get it, I’ll go.

Leaving will also give them a chance to catch up properly and while I’m out, I can go home and take a quick shower.

There’s still some dried blood in my hair that I want to get rid of and I’m itching to get out of the shirt the hospital gave me after they cut mine off me.

“Please. . .”

I smile reassuringly and squeeze Tara’s uninjured leg over the comforter. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” My face hardens and I look at Sam, shooting her a pointed look.

You better keep her safe. . .

She nods and straightens up a little. I turn and leave before she can try and start another conversation. On my way out, I spare one last glance at Richie who smiles tentatively and waves.

Moron.

Eleven years ago

I jump on my bed, face first, and groan into the pillow. Today’s been a long day.

I didn’t have school because we’re on winter break, but hockey practice is still being held and today’s practice was particularly long and grueling.

My dad even laughed at how tired I looked after picking me up, and my mom made sure I had an extra large serving of dinner.

Now, I just want to sleep. I’ve eaten and showered, and I’m too tired to watch a movie on my laptop like I normally would. So, I wiggle around in an attempt to get under the comforter without getting up.

A moment later though, I stop at the familiar sound of someone tapping on my window. There’s only one person who climbs the tree outside my window to sneak into my room.

“It’s open,” I mumble with a smile on my face. I don’t bother getting up, or even turning around because I know she’ll join me on the bed in a few seconds anyway.

The window slides open and there’s some shuffling before her feet land on my floor. She shuts the window again, and my smile widens because any moment now she’ll jump on the bed.

I wait, and wait, but nothing happens.

“Sam?”

No answer.

My smile dims and when I hear a sniffle, I frown. I finally turn around and the sight that greets me makes me curse myself for not turning around earlier.

Standing in the middle of my room in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants is Sam. She’s shivering and has goosebumps all over her body, but that’s not what concerns me the most. No, what concerns me the most are the tears that are streaming down her face.

“Sam?” Alarmed, I shuffle off the bed and cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

Her brown eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip quivers. Once again though, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey. . .” I return the hug and bring one hand up to the back of her head when she pushes her face against the side of my neck. “What’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it.

What going on? Did she have a fight with Tara, or her mom?

We continue hugging without saying anything, just basking in each other’s company until Sam starts shivering.

“Sammy,” I try to break our hug, but she whines and claws at my back to keep me close. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voices makes my heart hurt.

“But I do,” I argue softly, reaching behind me to unclasp her arms from around me. “Here, take this.” I take off my hoodie and slip it over her head. “There, much better.” I make sure it fits properly, un-bunching the bottom and fidgeting with the too-long sleeves before pulling her over to the bed.

She wordlessly slips under the covers and drags me down with her, cuddling up to me as soon as I’m within reach.

She stopped crying a while ago, but she’s obviously still feeling vulnerable, so I pull her closer and run my hand up and down her back.

This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in this position, but it feels different than any other times before. Something has changed and I have yet to find out what it is.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I open my eyes, it’s seven in the morning. I stretch and turn to maybe get some more sleep, but then I realize the bed next to me is empty.

“Sam?” I ask, but Sam is gone. The window is open and the spot next to me is still warm, so it can’t have been long since she left.

Present

I step out of the elevator and greet Deputy Vinson and a nurse who are chatting at the nurses’ station.

They nod and smile in greeting before getting back to their conversation, and I make my way to Tara’s room.

I feel much better now, having showered and changed into a new set of clothes. I took a cab from the hospital to Tara’s, grabbed her inhaler, and then drove my car back to my own apartment.

I also called Liam and Paige, updating them on the situation and telling them about Sam’s unexpected appearance.

They know how I felt about her in high school since the three of us have been friends since middle school. They offered to come to the hospital and act as a kind of buffer between Sam and me, but I obviously declined.

I’m more than capable of dealing with Sam’s presence, even if dealing with it is simply ignoring her or interacting with her as little as possible. She broke my heart a long time ago and even though I’d be lying if I said I was over it, I know it’s best to just stay away from her.

Someone rounding the corner and crashing into me at full speed rips me out of my thoughts. I stumble slightly and grasp at the wall to stop us from going down together.

“Hey! Watch where—“ Crap. So much for staying away.

My mouth snaps shut when I realize who ran into me, and then my eyes widen when I see the panicked look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

Sam clings to me and tries to push me back, away from where she just came from, and for a moment all the hurt, anger, and despair she’s caused is forgotten.

“Somebody tried to kill me in the break room!” she cries and without thinking, I wrap my arm that is not in the sling around her and pull her closer.

“What?!”

Our shouting alerts Deputy Vinson, who comes running over with his gun in hand.

“In the break room you say?” he asks, and Sam nods frantically. Without another word, he dashes off, gun raised and shoulders tense.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, breathless even though Sam’s the one who literally just fought off the killer. Her panicked eyes dart around the place, still sensing danger in every shadow, so I tighten my grip on her and repeat myself. “Sam, are you hurt?”

She finally looks at me and shakes her head, panting. “N-No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I look her over but she seems to be telling the truth because I can’t spot anything amiss except maybe her disheveled hair which is no longer in its claw clip. She’s also taken her jacket off and is now only wearing a white t shirt.

She nods again which causes a few strands of hair to fall in her face. I instinctively reach up and tuck a piece behind her ear only to freeze a heartbeat later when my knuckles brush against her cheek.

What am I doing?

Sam is frozen as well and her brown eyes are darting all over my face, a storm of emotions raging in their depths.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly, stepping back. It makes her hands drop off my chest and I hate how I miss the warmth of her palms through my sweater.

“Y/N. . .”

“Sam!” Richie comes rushing around the corner and when he spots us he’s quick to pull Sam into a hug. “Oh my God, are you okay? Deputy Vinson just told me what happened.”

“I— Yeah, I’m okay.” Sam eyes linger on me and for a moment an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers across her face. Then, however, she turns her attention to Richie and I look away when she lets him kiss her softly.

“Good. I was so worried,” he mumbles and if the kiss wasn’t too much for me already, his sickeningly sweet tone definitely is. I clench my jaw and brush past them, absolutely hating the hurt that settles on my chest and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Focus, Y/N. Tara needs you.

________________________________________________

This one’s a little bit shorter than the last, but I had to get some of the backstory stuff out of the way before the story picks up properly.

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list:

[peasofgreeniguess]

Hi, hi, hi

So, I don't remember sending you an ask, and if I did, then ignore this one and focus on the other one!

So I ask for undertale bros, underfell bros, and horrotale bros.

In this scenario, they are In a relationship with reader (Separate but if it makes it eairr to make it poly then do so) and in this, they have been trying for a baby for almost 2 years. Suddenly, Reader gets pregnant and decided to surprise their loved one.

It can be simple like an actal bun in the oven intel they get it or something more challenging like a Scavenger hunt.

How will the boys react and how will they act during the pregnancy?

Please, again I say this. If you already have a request from me, don't worrie about this one and focus on the other one. (Unless this is one better then understandable)

Hope yiu have a safe day/noon/night/or where ever you are!

Alrighty! I love this ask—personally, I love when the reader and the boys have a little family. <33 there are not enough fanfics (that i can find) about it :(( 

AFAB reader and pregnancy headcannons below! But reader is still gender ambiguous so the trans boys and the he/hims can enjoy (like me, hehe, love you seahorses out there) 

UT Sans. 

You two weren't actively trying to conceive; hell, you two weren't even sure you could. 

You and Sans had talked about wanting kids but never got further than that; that was until you started feeling weird. 

Constantly tired and gaining weight, then you started constantly throwing up. Finally, you went to the doctor and got the results. 

So here you are, sitting on the couch anxiously waiting for your mate sans to come home. 

In your lap you hold a small wrapped box; inside you had a “world's best farter” shirt; only the farter was crossed out and spelled "father.”. 

Finally the door unlocks, and sans walks in holding some Grilby’s bags. 

“Hey babe, im home... you ok? You look upset,” sans says, his brows furrowing.

You shake your head, “im not upset, but i have something to tell  you... you should really sit down.” 

Sans does as hes told; sitting next to you on the couch, you place the box in his hands and urge him to open it.

He pulls out the shirt and reads it, confused. 

“Im not a father though...” he asks, and you blankly stare at him. You forgot how dense your mate can be. 

It takes a few moments before it clicks, his eyelights expanding as he looks at you in realization. 

“Oh my god!” 

“Yeah…” 

His permagrin widens as he pulls you into a hug, tears brimming in his eyes. 

You two hold each other for a few minutes, crying of joy. Sans immediately wants to tell everyone, but you urge him to wait until tomorrow; tonight you just want to be with him. 

Either way, you both are extremely excited for your new little family. 

-UT papyrus

“Dd- do you t-think you c-could be p-pregnatt?” alphys asks, rubbing your back as you hurl into the toilet for the fourth day in a row. You gasp for air as you wipe tears from your eyes. 

“No… Monsters can't get humans pregnant... can they?” alphys shrugs. 

And that's how you found out you were pregnant. Sitting on the floor of undyne and alphys bathroom as papyrus and undyne spar in the backyard. 

Alpys was able to grab you a test from the store, and it came back positive. You stare at the two little lines for what feels like  years... What would Papyrus say? You never talked about this stuff with him... and it never crossed your mind that you could get pregnant like that with a monster... 

The back door opens, breaking you from your mini-spiral. 

“What do you want to do?” Alphys asks quietly. 

“I have to tell him... When we get home though,” Alpys nods, telling you to call her if you need anything. 

You step out of the bathroom, trying to hide your anxiety and greet your boyfriend. 

“Hi papy! How was training?” 

"HELLO, MY LOVE! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT, MY BEST SPAR YET!!” he boasts, undyne slaps him on the back playfully. "Yeah, CAUSE I LET YOU WIN, NERD!” 

Undyne laughs as Papyrus rolls his eyes, gathering his things. “YES WELL, WE WILL SEE ABOUT THAT NEXT WEEK!” 

The two of you bid your goodbyes and take the short trek home, Papyrus telling you all about his training with Undyne. After a few minutes, you both arrive at your shared apartment, locking the door behind you. You call Papyrus’s name. 

He turns to you, noting your shaky voice with worry. 

“Are You Alright?” he asks, lowering his voice. 

"Um, I have to tell you something important,” you say, gesturing for him to take a seat. 

He quietly sits down, more worried by the second. 

With a heavy sigh, you sit down next to him, opening your mouth to start, but nothing comes to mind. 

“Y/N… Did I Do Something To Upset You? I Apolig-” 

“Im pregnant,” you blurt out, interrupting Papyrus. 

Papyrus stares at you agape. That was not what he was expecting from you. 

You fidget with your fingers as you wait for his response, opening your mouth to apoligize or something, but Papyrus beats you to it. 

“Really?” 

“...yeah”

Tears appear in papyrus’s eye sockets as he stares at you with an unreadable expression; fear grips your soul as you worry that hes upset with you… you knew you never talked about it but you hoped he would be excited. 

"Wowie,” Papyrus says, finally breaking out into a smile and pulling you into a hug. 

“I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!” he cries! You laugh under him, breaking out into your own tears. 

“Yeah!” You are so happy Papyrus is happy; you didnt want toget your hopes up, but you were hoping he would be. 

The rest of the night papyrus is pulling up houses in good school districts and baby clothes because, of course, “MY BABY NEEDS TO HAVE THE COOLEST WARDROBE! OF COUSE!” 

UF sans

Red wanted kids, always had. He never imagined he would get the chance too, but still he liked to imagine having a family. 

So when he met you and as your relationship grew, he would be lying if he hadn't daydreamed about it.

Though he never told you, he felt silly for wanting such soft things. 

So when you brought up the idea to him one night, he was ecstatic! Immdedeatly texting alpys to see how they could make it work; fortunatey, it was possible. 

But after months and months with no results, his excitement died down into pessimism, convinced that the universe was punishing him for his past actions. 

But one day you came home all jittery and excited; whenever he asked what was up, you just giggled and brushed him off, telling him to wait. Wait for what? 

"Doll, what are you plannin’?” sans asks, once again you giggle and shoo him away. “You will see! Now go away, stinky man; I'll show you when I am ready!” you say, closing the door to your room. 

About a week ago, you took a test, preparing yourself for another negative. Until there wasn't one, you sobbed for at least an hour in the bathroom as you saw those two pink lines on the test. 

You knew you had to do something special; you called Grilby and asked him to close the bar early, leaving it empty for just the two of you.

You had planned to take him to his favorite place, get his favorite food, and tell him the best news of his life...

But sans is being a ass and making your life harder.

“Come onnn- sans” "No.” 

“Sans!” you forget how lazy your mate is, opting to sit in his lounge chair and tell him there than go to your plans. Fine then. If that's what he wants. 

"Fine, I'll tell you right here, right now.” 

“Great!” 

“Im pregnant” 

Sans drops the mustard bottle in his hand and sits up, not expecting that. You look at him unamused with your arms crossed. 

“Really??” 

“Yeah. I planned a whole thing to tell you. Payed grilby an arm and a leg to rent out the bar.”

Sans opens and closes his mouth a few times in shock, bringing a hand to his skull. 

“Shit doll, im sorry—were going to have a baby?” 

You nod your head, the softness in his voice causing all your annoyance to fall away. Sans chokes out a sob as you come over and hug him; he rabs onto your shirt tightly as if at any moment you would disappear. 

“Were going to have a baby!” 

UF papyrus

You two actually found out in a really silly way; Alphys wanted to check on your soul after you two soulbonded to see the reactions on a human soul since no human has ever bonded with a monster since before the barrier broke. Once a year she will do a checkup on your soul and the bond to study the changes. 

You and Alphys sit alone in her office, a large x-ray-looking machine sitting in front of your chest. Alpys types on her keyboard as she starts up the machine. 

“A-alright and- o- oh!” You look at Alphys concerned; thats not the reaction you were wanting. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“W- well” she starts, turning the monitor towards you. 

There in the middle of the screen was your soul, a faint red surrounding it—Papyrus’s magic. 

“If you l-look you can see the bond is v-very healthy." You nod, Thats good…

“But if you look right here,” she says, pointing towards a small speck on your soul. She pinches her claw zooming in on the monitor. As it expands, you see the small blob is not a blob but an upside down heart. 

A second soul. 

“T-that is w-what i was surprised a-about…” 

A little soul, you are pregnant... Your throat tightens as you feel the urge to cry. exhaustion and joy flood you. After all this time, finally! 

“Is that?” alphys nods, confirming. 

Alphys finishes her checkup much to your dismay; all you wanted to do was run to Papyrus as quick as you could and tell him the good news. 

You get home and eagerly call his name, searching the house for him.

Shit hes at work; he wont be home for another four hours...

You huff in frustration... but then you   idea. 

Quickly, you get your supplies. 

A few hours later, Papyrus arrives home, tossing his jacket on the couch with a growl. Today has been awful. You sniff the air, noticing the smell of fresh bread? He wanders into the kitchen where he finds you, and with a smile, he silently walks up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist. 

“HELLO MY DEAR,” he says, burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck. You squeak in surprise. 

“Hi handsome,” you greet back, turning around in his grasp to face him. 

“I have a surprise for you.” 

Papyrus quirks his brow at you, a surprise? 

Hesitantly he lets go of you, watching you walk to the oven and dramatically fling it open, exposing some homemade milk buns. 

“Tadaa!!” 

Awkwardly he nods at you; you bake often... Why is this special? 

You realise he didn't get it, and you roll your eyes, not wanting to spell it out for him. 

“WHAT IS IT?”

“Its a bun in the oven that i made.” 

Papyrus nods confused. “YES???” "Papyrus, im trying to be cute.” 

“YOU ARE CUTE!”

You stomp your foot. That's not what you meant.

"Baby, im pregnant.” 

Papyrus pauses, then it clicks.

Bun in the oven. 

“OH MY GOD,” Papyrus pulls you to him and swings you around. 

“I DONT KNOW IF I SHOULD BE ANNOYED OR OVERJOYED, BUT IM CHOOSING THE LADDER! WERE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!” You laugh in his arms as he eventually sets you down, nuzzling your hair. 

“I Cant Wait To Tell Sans” 

HT sans. 

Sans had a shitton of magic; since he was so deprived of magic in the underground when they got out, their magic came back tenfold, causing him to have constant excess. And there was one way that's the easiest (and most fun) way to get rid of excess  magic... and that's why you are here now. 

Eight weeks pregnant in the hospital, you came in for a stomach bug originally, but then the doctor came in and told  you... It looks like all that excess magic has some side effects...

You carry the little paper with the positive test home, finding sans waiting for you at the table. He smiles; if the big dork had a tail, you would swear it would be wagging.

He doesn't verbally greet you, instead hulking over and burying his face in your hair with a loud purr. You smile and pat the side of his skill. 

“Missed you to big guy.” 

You try and act normal; you werent sure how sans would  react... You never really talked about it with him. Sans immediately clocked your mood though, cocking his head in a silent question. 

“Im fine,” you say, moving to the fridge to start dinner. 

"Liar,” he says, a deep, anxious growl rumbling in his chest. 

“Are you sick?” he asks. You forgot that going to the hospital and then not telling your mate what the doctors said is not the best idea. 

You close the fridge and lean against it, crossing your arms. 

You really didnt want to tell sans yet...

“Im not sick,” you say slowly, trying to figure out how to tell him.

“Whats… wrong?” sans asks. 

Sans talks slower due to his injury, but he is still smart as a whip,  clocking any small mood shifts with great speed and accuracy. You can't hide anything from him. 

“Umm… How do you feel about kids?” you ask, testing the waters. 

Sans perks up, thinking for a moment. 

“I like kids,” he says.

“But do you want kids?” 

Sans quickly nods his head eagerly, “Yes.” 

You relax slightly at that, nodding your head.

“How would you feel if we were to have a kid? Like… now?” 

“... that would be nice?” He asks a slight question at the end of his sentence: What were you getting at? 

"Well, that may be the case. Because im pregnant.” 

Sans eyelight grows, walking to you slowly as if you would bolt. Gently, he places his hands on your hips and looks down at you. 

“Your fucking with me… really?” He says happily, and you shake your head no, handing him the paper you got from the doctors. 

“I swear im not.” 

Sans shortcuts you to your shared room, placing you on the bed and grabbing his phone to call papyrus, you have to almost wrestle the phone out of his hands, urging him to wait a little bit before he tells anyone. But he can't help it; he's just so excited! 

And no HT papyrus, as i headcannon, they are asexual :3

thanks for reading! if you want to see more content check out my fanfic "doe eyed" on ao3 and my discord server! 18+ (we do check)