#nobody prepared me for college being like this

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER SIX ━━ A Little Too Much

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.2K

❀ ━ warnings: like maybe an allusion to sex???

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: paige bro lock in

PAIGE SINKS deeper into the couch, the familiarity of the apartment wrapping around her like a hug. It’s nice being back, the familiar scent of vanilla (Jo’s candles) filling the space. The TV is tuned to some random college football game—an SEC game that Paige really couldn’t care less about.

Aubrey’s sitting at the other end of the couch, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, her arm resting on the back cushion. A bag of chips is balanced precariously on her knee as she scrolls through her phone, glancing up at the screen every now and then to half heartedly comment on a play.

“Nah, ain’t no way Tennessee gets this one,” Aubrey says, tossing a chip into her mouth. “Georgia, no debate.”

Paige snorts, squinting at the game for a moment. “Ion know, the Vols are up.”

“They won’t be,” Aubrey insists, waving the bag of chips for emphasis.

Paige hadn’t realized how much she missed all of this until now. She’s spent the last month in LA, focusing on her rehab at a state-of-the-art facility her team insisted on. The work has been grueling—hours of physical therapy every day, pushing her body to its limits, trying to rebuild what she’s lost.

But being away from her teammates has been harder.

It’s the first week of October now and she hadn’t seen any of them since early September, right before she flew out. Sure, there were texts and FaceTimes—especially with Jo, who’s practically made it her mission to keep Paige from feeling too disconnected. But it isn’t the same as this: sitting on the couch, arguing over nothing, being in one of her best friend’s presence.

“You said Jo was working out with Yanna and Caroline, right?” Paige asks, glancing over at Aubrey. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t anxiously waiting for Jo to get her ass home.

“Yeah, they been at it all day. Jo’s on this whole new grind—something about gettin’ faster footwork or whatever. I dunno, think she just wants to be really prepared for the season, cause—” Aubrey nods to Paige’s knee and Paige nods—Jo is certainly gonna have a huge role for the team this season.

After a moment, though, Aubrey sends her a look, asking, “Why, though? You impatient?”

Paige just rolls her eyes, saying, “It’s just been a minute.”

Aubrey hums, though she doesn’t sound entirely too convinced.

Paige doesn’t much care. She cares more about the fact that she has to sit through nearly the entirety of this football game before she hears the door click open, her head snapping up instinctively. She can hear Jo before she sees her—her sneakers squeaking against the floor, her laugh that’s as bright and familiar as sunlight as she mutters something to—presumably—Ayanna or Caroline, who must still be in the hallway. For a second, everything else washes away—the announcers on the TV, Aubrey scrolling lazily on her phone. Paige’s focus narrows completely, landing squarely on the figure stepping into the apartment.

When Jo finally comes into view, it’s like Paige can breathe again. Except, maybe not, because Jo looks exactly the same and yet somehow better then Paige remembers. Her ponytail is a little messy, strands clinging to her forehead, and her tank top is soaked through with sweat, outlining the lean strength of her frame. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes are sparkling with that post-workout adrenaline.

Paige feels her stomach plummet, a sudden, unwelcome realization inching into her mind. She thinks Jo looks beautiful like this.

“Oh my God, you’re here!” Jo’s voice breaks through Paige’s thoughts, light and high-pitched with excitement. Her smile is wide, open, and utterly disarming, like she’s been waiting for this moment for weeks. She drops her gym bag onto the floor without a second thought and breaks into a jog toward Paige, her arms already outstretched.

Paige stands automatically, her body moving before her brain catches up. And then Jo is there, colliding into her with so much force that Paige actually stumbles back half a step. Jo’s arms wrap around her shoulders, strong and unhesitating, and before Paige even knows what’s happening, she’s being pulling into the kind of hug that makes her feel like melting.

Jo smells like strawberry shampoo and a hint of sweat, a mix that should probably be unappealing but isn’t. Paige’s face ends up pressed against the side of Jo’s neck, and, for a moment, she lets herself completely sink into the embrace. Jo is warm and solid and so full of life, and Paige feels herself relax in a way she didn’t even realize she needed.

But there’s something else, too: a tangle of emotions she can’t—or maybe just doesn’t want—to name. Paige’s hands settle on Jo’s waist, and she pulls her closer, tighter, without even thinking. Her heartbeat picks up, thudding erratically in her chest. She tells herself it’s just the adrenaline of being nearly barreled into.

But then Jo’s laugh bubbles out, muffled against Paige’s shoulder, and Paige feels a little breathless.

“I missed you so much!” Jo squeals, her arms tightening around Paige like she’s never letting go.

Paige smiles, closing her eyes for just a second as her nose nudges Jo’s ponytail. “I missed you too,” she murmurs, and there’s a softness in her voice that surprises even her.

The warmth of Jo’s hug, the way her fingers curl slightly against Paige’s back, makes something twist low in Paige’s stomach. It’s almost too much, but at the same time, not enough. Paige doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to think about why this feels different than hugging Aubrey or Azzi earlier.

From behind them, Paige hears Aubrey mutter, “Yeah, maybe a little too much.”

Paige’s eyes snap open, heat rushing to her face. She freezes, her arms going stiff for just a second, but Jo doesn’t seem to notice. Paige’s heart pounds as she wills herself to stay calm, to keep her expression neutral as she pulls back, not too abruptly but enough to put some space between them.

Jo beams, her hands lingering on Paige’s shoulders as she grins up at her. Paige feels like she might die under the weight of it.

“Shit,” Jo says suddenly with realization, stepping back and gesturing to herself. “I’m disgusting right now. I should’ve warned you before jumping on you like that.”

“You’re fine,” Paige says quickly, and then, because she feels like she should say something normal, she adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen you sweaty before.”

Jo laughs, the sound bubbling up effortlessly. “Still. Let me shower, and then we’re hanging out. No excuses. I missed you!”

Paige can’t help but smile back, even as her thoughts churn. Jo is grinning at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, and Paige feels something warm and unsteady settle in her chest. She watches as Jo grabs her bag and heads toward the bathroom.

Once she’s out of view, Paige sits back down on the couch with a huff. She hates that her heart is still beating too fast.

Next to her, Aubrey hasn’t moved, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch as she watches Paige with a look that makes the blonde shift a little. The football game continues on, the last few minutes of the fourth quarter blaring, but Aubrey doesn’t seem the least bit interested in it anymore.

Paige finally breaks the silence, blurting out as she turns to Aubrey, “What did you mean by that?”

Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “By what?”

Paige frowns. “That comment you made. About me missin’ her too much.”

Aubrey doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans forward, grabbing the remote and lowering the volume on the TV. When she settles back into her seat, she gives Paige a look—a knowing look that immediately puts Paige on edge.

“She has a boyfriend, bro,” Aubrey says simply, as if that explains everything.

“I know that,” Paige snaps, the words leaving her mouth too quickly. She feels a flush creeping up her neck and shifts in her position, trying to look casual, unbothered. “Obviously I know that.”

Aubrey’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her voice sharper now. She crosses her arms over her chest, defensive without meaning to be. “’Course I do. What’s your point?”

Aubrey tilts her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s holding back a smirk. “My point is,” she says slowly, “you look at her like she’s the sun or sum. And don’t act like you don’t, ’cause I just saw it.”

Paige scoffs, but it’s weak, almost half-hearted. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous,” she says, though her tone wavers. “She’s, like, my best friend. I’m just—” She falters, trying to find the right words “I’m just happy to see her. It’s been a month, bro. I’d be like that with anyone.”

���Really?” Aubrey asks, raising her eyebrows. “Uh, you didn’t act like that when I picked you up from the airport. Or when Az came by earlier.”

“That’s different,” Paige says defensively. “You and Azzi—she’s—” She stumbles over the words, annoyed that she can’t articulate why it is different without making it sound worse.

Aubrey doesn’t look convinced. In fact, she looks entirely unimpressed. “Uh-huh,” she says, drawing the syllables out. “P, I warned you about this when you two first moved in together.”

Paige remembers. She remembers when they were moving her bed during the summer and Aubrey had told her seriously, “You cannot fuck Jo Jacobson.”

At the time, Paige had laughed it off. The idea seemed absurd then. Sure, Jo was beautiful, but she was also a freshman and just getting her feet wet here, and Paige would never do that. She would never do that. She still would never do that. But then, Paige hadn’t ever thought of her in that way.

Now—

“I don’t like her like that,” Paige says, her voice firmer than she feels. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Aubrey says again, in the same tone as before. “Look, I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose. But, bro, if you do have feelings for her—and I’m not saying you do—don’t let ’em mess with your head. Or the team.”

Paige bristles at that. “I don’t have feelings for her,” she insists. “And even if I did—which I don’t—it wouldn’t affect the team. I’m not that stupid.”

Aubrey shrugs, unfazed. “I’m just saying. Jo’s solid with Asher. Like, really solid. You don’t wanna go down that road.”

Paige feels her chest tighten, and she doesn’t know if it’s because she hates how Aubrey is talking to her or because some small, traitorous part of her knows Aubrey might be right.

“I’m not goin’ down any road,” Paige says, forcing her voice to stay even. “You’re reading too much into this. I’m just happy to see my best friend again. That’s it.”

Aubrey doesn’t press further, but her silence is heavy, loaded with unspoken skepticism. Paige tries to focus on the last few minutes of the football game, but the TV screen practically blurs in her vision as her thoughts spiral.

She tells herself Aubrey’s wrong. That her excitement to see Jo is completely normal. That the way her heart has leapt when Jo walked in the door was nothing more than relief after a long time apart.

But deep down, she can’t shake the way her stomach had flipped when Jo smiled at her. Or the way her chest felt too tight when Jo hugged her, like her ribs were trying to contain something that didn’t want to be contained.

Paige doesn’t know what to call it. She doesn’t want to know.

JO’S EYES remain glued to the screen, but she doesn’t even notice what’s happening in the episode anymore. She missed this—missed the nights spent lying next to Paige, the “sleepovers” which are really just code for one of them being too lazy to walk back into their own rooms and crawl into their own beds.

Jo’s massaging Paige’s knee, the rhythm comforting and almost mechanical now. It’s just what they do; she’s done it a thousand times over since her surgery, though it’s been a month since she’s done it now. She knows how much it helps Paige, and it’s not like it’s anything weird—just a friend doing something nice for another friend, a friend that’s gone through this same thing before and knows what can help.

She’s not thinking about the way Paige’s leg feels under her palm, how soft the skin is, how warm. She’s not. She’s not thinking about how close they are, how the smooth skin of Paige’s thigh rests under her cheek, or how the way Paige moves so naturally beside her makes her chest feel tight in a way that doesn’t make sense.

Paige lets out a soft sigh, and Jo doesn’t quite know why it sends a little flutter through her. She shakes it off quickly, adjusting her position to be more comfortable, still massaging her knee.

They’re almost at the end of first season of The Vampire Diaries now, and Jo’s surprised that Paige has stuck with it. She thought, with all the complaining, that Paige would have tapped out after a few episodes, but here they are, still going strong. Jo knows her well enough that she can tell that Paige has actually started to get into it. Maybe not as much as Jo, but enough to make comments and roll her eyes at the sometimes ridiculous drama.

“You can’t actually be Team Damon, P,” Jo says, shaking her head against Paige’s thigh, letting her fingers glide over the tender muscle beneath Paige’s knee. “Like, come on, girl. Stefan is clearly the better choice.”

Paige shifts slightly, and Jo glances up to see the blonde smirking down at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed and Jo can understand why—it’s hot in here. Maybe they should turn the heat down. “Ion know, JoJo. Damon’s a lot more interesting.”

Jo huffs, “Yeah, well, interesting isn’t always the best option. You need someone who’s steady, who’s good for you.”

“Who’s ‘boring,’ you mean?” Paige’s voice is light, a teasing edge to it.

Jo shakes her head again, laughing a little. As she does so, her lips lightly graze the top of Paige’s thigh. She doesn’t think anything of it. But then she feels Paige’s leg tense up. Jo stills her hand on her knee, thinking she might’ve done something wrong. But then, maybe a second later, Paige is relaxed again, and she doesn’t say anything, so Jo cautiously resumes the massage.

“Yeah, boring’s fine. It’s good. It’s better than all the shit Damon brings,” Jo says.

She can feel the subtle shift in Paige’s posture—she’s looking at Jo, eyes soft, gaze steady—and Jo quickly glances back at the TV, avoiding it. She doesn’t know why. Because it’s because if she lets herself look at Paige for too long, she’ll start thinking about things she’s not supposed to.

“Whatever,” Paige says after a pause. “I still think Damon’s cooler.”

Jo just snorts as she finishes working on the blonde’s knee, feeling the tension slowly melt away as her fingers work the muscles. A final press of her thumb into the joint elicits a soft sigh from Paige, and Jo grins slightly, the satisfaction of helping her best friend making it worth it.

Her fingers ache slightly from the pressure, but it’s nothing really. She looks at Paige briefly before flopping down beside her, her legs splaying out on the bed as she turns onto her stomach. The weight of the day and the long workout is starting to press in on her, and the soft, quiet room feels soothing. “My turn,” she says with a little grin, throwing a look over at Paige as she gestures to her back. It’s a deal they became accustomed to before Paige went off to LA—Jo massages Paige’s knee, and Paige takes care of the horrendous knots in Jo’s back. Simple.

Paige stares at her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, before moving over to straddle Jo’s hips and starting to knead into her back. Jo tries to relax, exhaling deeply as Paige’s hands work their way over her tense muscles. It’s familiar and comfortable, and God, is Jo glad Paige is back in Storrs.

Paige’s fingers press into a particularly stubborn knot, right between Jo’s shoulder blades, and Jo winces, just a little. It’s the one knot that never seems to go away, no matter how much she tries to stretch or work it out. It’s been there for years, a stubborn thing.

“Still there?” Paige’s voice is soft, but Jo can hear the hint of concern.

The younger girl nods into the pillows. “Mmm, yeah, it never goes away.”

Paige hums in acknowledgement, and Jo hears her shift slightly. For a moment, she wonders if Paige is just going to stay where she is and work the knot from the outside, but then, to her surprise, she feels Paige’s hands move to the bottom of her t-shirt, sliding under the fabric carefully.

“Lemme get in there,” Paige murmurs lowly.

The words and the cool air against her skin sends a shiver down Jo’s spine, but she doesn’t pull away. Paige’s touch is so familiar, so comforting, that even the shift in how they’ve positioned doesn’t feel strange—at least, it shouldn’t. She can feel Paige’s fingers move under the fabric, creeping up her spine near her shoulder blade, right where she can press deeper into the knot. The pressure is sudden but not unwelcome. It’s exactly what Jo needs.

“Mmm, that’s better,” Paige says softly, her voice closer now, almost against Jo’s back, as she works the knot precisely. Her fingertips press firmly into the spot, working the muscle, easing the tendon.

The warmth from Paige’s fingers against her skin sends a wave of heat through Jo’s body, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The knot is finally loosening, and for a brief moment, she’s too focused on the sensation to even process anything else. Paige’s hands move with ease, like she’s done this a thousand times. And she has. Or, well, at least a few.

“You good?” Paige asks, voice soft but steady, like she’s concerned, and Jo feels a strange pull in her chest.

Jo hums in response, though it comes out softer than she intended. “Yeah, that feels perfect.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them, and all Jo can focus on is the steady rhythm of Paige’s hands as they move over her back, the weight of her stomach settling into Jo’s muscles. The room is even warmer now—they really should turn down the heat. Even if it’s Connecticut, it’s only October. That, or maybe it’s just the proximity, the closeness of Paige’s body to here. Jo doesn’t know what it is, but her heart’s not beating the way it usually does.

Paige’s hands slide back up, pressing into the tender spots along Jo’s shoulder blades, and Jo bites her lip, trying to ignore how good it feels.

And then, without thinking, Jo shifts slightly, a small motion that presses her chest just a little closer to the bed. With the movement, her body aligns a bit more with Paige’s, and suddenly the space between them feels too small, too close. She can feel Paige’s breath against her back, steady and warm, and Jo’s pulse quickens despite herself.

“God,” Jo mutters. “You’re good at this.”

Paige’s fingers stop their movements for a moment, as if processing the words. “It’s nothing,” she says, but there’s something different in her voice. Maybe it’s just how close they are, or maybe it’s the weight of the silence hanging between them, but Jo’s pretty sure she hears a shift in the way Paige speaks. A slight tension in her voice that Jo can’t explain.

Eventually, Paige finishes working the knot, her hands pulling away slowly. Jo almost feels a pang of disappointment, but she can’t place why. She’s just relaxing, just letting herself unwind. It’s nothing.

Paige lies back down next to her, the space between them still feeling a little smaller than it should be. Jo turns her head to meet Paige’s gaze, their faces just inches apart.

“Better?” Paige asks, her voice soft and almost too quiet. Her fingers trail lightly down Jo’s spine, slipping out from under her shirt with a gentle touch that sends a small shiver through Jo.

Jo smiles a little, nodding. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

Paige nods, her lips lifting at the corners a little before Jo turns her gaze back to the TV. She tucks her hands under her cheek as she lays on her side, eyes lazily watching the screen. Damon and Elena are fighting over something—per usual.

She doesn’t even notice at first when Paige shifts, her leg brushing against Jo’s under the covers. And then she slides a little closer, her shoulder brushing against Jo’s arm. Her face is even closer now, and Jo’s aware of that. She can feel her breath against her skin. It catches her a little off guard, but it’s not weird. It’s just how they always seem to end up—close.

“I missed you, Joey.” Paige’s voice, so soft, echoes through the room.

Jo glances up, meeting her gaze. It makes her smile. “I missed you too.”

And she did—she got so used to being so close to her that it was terrible when she was gone for so long. So bad it felt like Jo was going through withdrawal or something. And it only makes it worse that she’s flying back out in a couple days and Jo is going to have the apartment to herself again.

Paige’s face is still close, her eyes searching Jo’s for something. They’re so blue, even in the dim lighting of the room, and they feel like an ocean Jo could easily drown in.

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she presses herself closer still, their chests touching now, Jo’s nose brushing against Paige’s neck. Their legs tangle more under the sheets, and Jo feels Paige wrap her arm around her waist gently, letting it rest there. Jo doesn’t mind.

It’s just them. It’s just how they are.

PAIGE WAKES slowly, the soft morning light streaming through the slats of the blinds casting stripes across the bed. Her body feels heavy, warm, and there’s a comforting weight against her arm. Blinking her eyes open, she shifts her head on the pillow and glances down. Jo is still asleep beside her, her face soft in the pale light, her features slack with peace.

Jo looks… pretty, Paige thinks, her thoughts still hazy with sleep. Her hair is tousled, sticking up slightly at the crown from no doubt a restless turn in the night, but it only makes her look softer, less put together in a way that feels intimate. Paige is half aware of the fact that her own arm is tucked under Jo’s, her hand resting near Jo’s waist. Their legs are tangled together, too, her calf brushing Jo’s under the covers.

Paige doesn’t move immediately. She doesn’t want to. It’s warm like this, comfortable, and even though the logical part of her brain tells her to pull away, to avoid making it weird, she stays where she is.

Her gaze lingers on Jo’s face, on the slight curve of her lips, the freckles dusted across her nose that are barely visible. There’s something unguarded about Jo in the morning, something vulnerable and even sweeter than she is when she’s awake.

Last night drifts back to Paige’s mind. The massages, the feel of Jo’s hands on her knee, the feel of Jo’s back under her hands. The way Jo told her she missed her, too. Paige had meant it when she told her—she’d missed Jo more then she thought she would during her time in LA. But it’s not just that. There had been something else in the air last night.

Maybe it’s just the shift of being apart for a month, she tells herself. That’s all. It’s just the way things feel different when you come back to someone after being away. Things will settle back into place eventually. They always do.

Jo stirs slightly in her sleep, her brow twitching, and Paige instinctively stills, not wanting to wake her. The younger girl murmurs something unintelligible and shifts closer, her head tilting toward Paige’s shoulder, and Paige’s breath catches for half a second.

The buzz of a phone breaks the quiet, cutting through the gentle hum of the morning. Paige blinks, her thoughts scattering, and she glances toward the nightstand. The phone buzzes again. She assumes its hers—she gets texts at odd hours from basically everyone. Without thinking, she reaches out, fumbling for the phone blindly without lifting her head.

Her fingers close around the cool device, and she squints at the screen as she opens it, not wearing her glasses yet. By the lockscreen, she immediately can tell that this is not her phone, though—it’s Jo’s. She’s about to close it and put it back when the name at the top of the screen makes her freeze. Ash.

Her stomach twists. She knows that name and she knows it well. Asher. Jo’s boyfriend.

Maybe she doesn’t mean to look, maybe she does. Either way, the messages are right there, impossible to ignore.

Ash 💓

Hi baby I know it’s early

Just wanted to say I miss you

and love you

And I can’t wait to see the media day flicks you better send me them all

Paige stares at the screen for a long moment, her chest tightening in a way she doesn’t—but also might—understand. She knows she should stop looking, that this is a complete violation of Jo’s privacy, but her eyes tracy the words again. Baby. I miss you. I love you. They feel like a slap.

She exhales sharply, locking the phone and setting it back on the nightstand. Her case flicks back to Jo, still fast asleep. Her face is serene and peaceful and Paige feels an overwhelming rush of emotions. It’s not jealousy. It’s not. She’s not jealous. She has no right to be jealous of two high school sweethearts that literally grew up next door together that are probably soulmates and are someday going to get married and have babies.

She’s not jealous of that.

But, nonetheless, the knot in her stomach doesn’t go away.

She unentangles herself carefully, shifting her leg and arm away from Jo’s, mindful not to wake her. Jo murmurs something again, soft and sleepy, and Paige pauses for a second before slipping off the bed entirely. She needs space. Air.

She pads to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. Her hands grip the edge of the sink, and she stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is a mess, her face slightly puffy from sleep.

She shakes her head, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on her face. It doesn’t help much.

Paige forces herself to focus, to push away the strange feelings clawing at her. Jo is her roommate, her freshie, and, yeah, basically her best friend now. And that’s all this is. That’s all it will ever be. She needs to stop overthinking. She needs to get ready for the day.

But even as she brushes her teeth and begins to brush through her hair, her thoughts keep circling back to those texts. To Asher. To Jo. And to the way Jo’s body had felt so warm and close and right against hers just minutes ago.

PAIGE STANDS in front of the mirror in the locker room, adjusting her uniform and smoothing her jersey. The bold, navy #5 stitched on the front catches her eye, and for a moment, she lingers. It feels almost strange, wearing the jersey she won’t be able to play in this season.

Not that she hasn’t come to terms with it. Paige is good at keeping herself together now, even if the pang of frustration hasn’t entirely disappeared—and won’t, she knows, until she gets to play again. But she’s learned to deal with it, to channel her energy elsewhere. If she can’t be on the court, she can still be here—still lead, still help her team in every way she can.

Her hair is perfectly straightened, sleek and sharp, the way she likes it. Her makeup looks good, too—just enough to emphasize her sharp cheekbones and blue eyes, but nothing overdone. The uniform ties it all together, making her look just like the player she’s supposed to be, the one she still is even if she’s stuck on the sidelines.

She takes a couple mirror pics—her annual media day mirror pics. They come out well, and she posts them to Instagram with the caption “5’ll be back soon,” because it will. She will.

By the time the day is in full effect, Paige knows the drill: photos, videos, soundbites for promos. She takes a few solo shots first, her expression switching between serious and smiles for the camera. Then it’s duo photos—first with Azzi, then with Nika and Aaliyah, her classmates. They laugh and joke between snaps, Nika managing to pinch Paige and Aaliyah during one, probably getting a perfect reaction picture.

Whilst Jo is getting her photos done, Paige is off to the side, hyping her up. When she makes Jo laugh—loud and sudden, the kind that makes her throw her head back—Paige is the one who catches the photographer’s eye. He gestures for her to join Jo, saying how he likes their energy together. Paige does as he asks, coming into view of the camera.

They stand side by side, first posed with their arms crossed, meant to look tough and intimidating. Then, the photographer tells Jo to lean her arm casually on Paige’s shoulder. Jo does, and it feels so normal, so them, that Paige doesn’t even notice how close they are until the photos pop up on the photographer’s screen.

“Yo,” Paige says, leaning in closer to the preview image. “We look good.”

Jo grins, nudging the blonde with her elbow. “Yeah, we do.”

And they do. There’s something about the way they look together—Jo’s darker features contrasting with Paige’s lighter ones, their postures balanced between playful and powerful—that feels striking.

When the photographer tells them they’re done, Jo taps Paige on the back lightly, her touch lingering for a half-second too long. Paige pretends not to notice.

They continue on through a mix of photos, promo videos, and shorter interviews. Paige’s role as “Coach P,” as everyone’s begun calling her, doesn’t go unnoticed.

Nika, of course, has to chime in. “That girl ain’t my coach,” she mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, shaking her head while she stirs a few laughs from their teammates and some of the media coordinators.

Paige rolls her eyes but before she can respond, Jo cuts in, throwing her arms around Paige’s shoulders from behind and resting her chin right by Paige’s neck. “You’re right, Nik,” Jo says, her voice teasing as her arms tighten slightly around Paige. “She’s not your coach. She’s mine.”

Nika hisses at her in mock annoyance, making Jo laugh loudly as she lets go of Paige—though not before making sure to squeeze Paige’s shoulders fondly.

Paige hardly notices the way Nika flicks at Jo’s arm afterwards, or the way Jo sticks her tongue out at her. Instead, her brain replays the words—she’s mine.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

It’s not like that, though. And, goddamn, she has to get herself together.

Luckily, she has an interview waiting for her, so she doesn’t have long to continue dwelling on it. Except, actually, she thinks she might be unlucky, because when she spots Celeste Sinclair waiting for her with that soft little smirk and a glint in her eyes, Paige almost groans aloud.

She supposes she did this to herself, though. It’s not like she didn’t know Celeste was one of their media girls when she started fucking her—it’s literally how they met.

As Paige approaches, Celeste’s eyes sweep over her, lingering just a fraction too long on the way her uniform fits. Paige notices it immediately, and begins to steel herself.

“Paige,” the redhead greets, her tone syrupy and professional, but there’s a flicker of something else underneath. Something Paige is very familiar with.

“Celeste,” Paige replies evenly, keeping her expression neutral. She folds her hands in front of her, trying not to let her irritation show. She doesn’t have time for this—doesn’t have the patience or willpower to handle another girl turned obsessed—but media day is about appearances, so she plasters on a polite smile and takes the mini mic Celeste offers her.

The questions start predictably enough. Celeste asks about her recovery, her plans for the future, how she’s adjusting. Paige answers each question with the kind of practiced ease she’s managed to master over the years. She talks about her rehab process, about staying focused, about how the comeback will be stronger than the setback. The words feel automatic now, almost rehearsed.

Still, it stings a little. Every time she’s reminded that she won’t touch the court this season, that she’ll have to watch from the bench while her teammates fight for another championship, there’s a flicker of frustration she can’t quite extinguish.

But she doesn’t let it show. Obviously.

Celeste presses on, asking something about how Paige is adapting to her new role as a leader from the bench, and Paige forces herself to smile through it. She talks about embracing the role of “Coach P,” about how it’s just as important to support the team off the court as it is on it. She doesn’t let her voice waver, doesn’t let any of the bitterness slip through.

When the interview finally wraps, Paige exhales quietly, ready to walk away—but Celeste steps closer, cutting her off.

“So,” Celeste says, her voice dropping just enough to make it clear this part isn’t for the cameras. “You’ve been busy out west, yeah? I—you haven’t been back at all lately.”

Paige sighs a little. “Yeah, well. Rehab and stuff. You know how it is.”

Celeste tilts her head. “I do. Still, I thought you might text or call or something. I left you a few messages, but you never answered.”

Paige resists the urge to roll her eyes. Celeste’s persistence is both flattering and annoying. Yeah, the sex had been good—but was it genuinely good enough for Celeste to continuously run after Paige when she’s made it more than obvious that she doesn’t really want her? Paige doesn’t think so.

But, then again, Paige is better with her tongue and fingers than Celeste is.

“Been busy,” Paige says again, brushing her off.

The red-haired girl doesn’t seem deterred, though. She leans in just slightly, murmuring, “Well, if you’re not too busy tonight or even later this week… ?”

Paige starts to shake her head, ready to shut it down. She has enough girls in her bed back in LA that she doesn’t need to make up for it here while she’s only back for a few days.

But then—her mind flashes to this morning. To Jo. To the messages from Asher. The pit that settles in her stomach when she saw the I love you and I miss you and the baby. Something about it still lingers, sharp and annoying, and Paige can’t quite shake it.

Before she really thinks about what she’s doing, she hears herself saying, “Actually, I am free tonight.”

Celeste’s face lights up, her smile widening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, her tone casual, like she isn’t committing to something she’s already dreading a little. “I fly back to LA in a couple days, so tonight works.”

Celeste doesn’t bother hiding her excitement. “Perfect. Come over later?”

Paige nods and Celeste looks almost giddy as she finally walks away.

As Paige rejoins her teammates, sitting next to Jo, the brunette smirks at her a little, judging her arm and asking, “Again?”

Paige feels heat rushing up her neck and into her cheeks. “Stop, it’s nothing,” she says quickly.

Jo doesn’t press or tease her much like anyone else would, just letting out a little laugh under her breath before getting up for one of her own interviews.

Paige can’t help but watch her during it. And think.

Jo, asleep in her bed this morning, soft and peaceful and pretty. Jo, laughing loudly during their photoshoot. Jo, whose phone had lit up with messages from a boyfriend that Paige can’t stand to think about.

Her jaw tightens slightly, and she shoves the thoughts aside. She’s going to Celeste’s tonight. At least she’ll be doing something.

[luca-is-a-pengu]

[annievrse]

origami flowers

sebastian x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

you hear a familiar voice call your name as you trudge down the hallway of weston college, your shoes clicking against the concrete floor. you're not sure where you're going; being the faux nurse of the school while ciel and sebastian figure out why children are going missing gives you more free time than you're used to. but with no need to go to the infirmary, you've been exploring the campus.

pausing mid-step and spinning, your eyes widen when you see ciel running towards you.

"young master?" your voice goes up an octave in surprise. "what happened?" you ask, your voice sharp with concern.

the younger boy pants with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. "we have an... issue..."

you glance behind you to check nobody is coming and lean down—it's a good thing everybody is in class. "where's sebastian?"

ciel gives you a worried look and stands straight, his hand wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "that's precisely the problem... i don't know."

furrowing your brows, you sigh and stride past your master. ciel's calls of your name fall on deaf ears as you make a beeline for your infirmary. "i apologise, young master. follow me."

ciel shakes his head in disbelief at the random demand but follows you nonetheless, his steps quickening to catch up to you.

"shouldn't you be in class?" you tease, turning the corner.

ciel rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance. "i was, but i broke the quill i was using, and i was sent to my dorm to retrieve another."

"i see," you smirk, trying to hold back your giggle. "and did this broken quill have anything to do with the fact that you haven't seen sebastian since last night?"

"perhaps..." he eyes you suspiciously. and then his face slackens and he glares at you. "you know where he is."

you wave your hand flippantly. "i have an idea."

fishing the key to your temporary office out of your blazer pocket, you slide it into the keyhole and twist.

and low and behold, ciel's butler sits hunched over your desk.

ciel lets out a strangled sound and steps into the clinic. "what the devil are you doing in here?"

"my lord," sebastian raises his head in surprise, something foreign to both you and your young master.

sighing, you approach him, watching his hands fold paper delicately.

ciel just shakes his head at the pile of origami flowers overflowing onto the floor next to sebastian. "playing with paper, are we?"

you notice what ciel does a moment later, your cheeks warming at the sheer amount of work he had done. "seb..."

sebastian stands, paper flowers falling from his lap onto the floor as his hand comes to rest on his chest. "i apologise, my lord, i did not realise the time."

he doesn't meet your gaze as you pick up a pink flower and twirl it between your fingers.

ciel narrows his eyes but says nothing at the sight.

"i was unaware i was occupied for this long, my lord. i will get to making the pastries for afternoon tea shortly."

ciel shakes his head, turning toward the door. "no need. they are no longer required. i will handle the situation myself."

sebastian nods despite knowing ciel cannot see. "indeed."

"just be in your office tonight so we can prepare for soma's arrival."

lowering his head, sebastian bows. "yes, my lord."

and when the door to your clinic closes, sebastian's hand returns to his side. "i saw one of the students making them," he gestures to the flowers. "do you like them?"

you smile and nod. "they're incredible, sebastian."

leaning over your desk, he gathers his creations, and before your eyes, they transform into a bouquet. your eyes widen at the sight, and you look up at him. sebastian's cheeks are dusted pink, though you deduce it to the lighting because he doesn't show such emotion.

"these are for you," sebastian mutters, handing you the bunch.

your breath gets caught in your throat before you whisper, "thank you."

a smirk pulls at the corner of sebastian's lips, and he nods once. "you're welcome, dearest."

you turn away from his piercing gaze, grasping the flowers in your arms. "next time you stay in my bed, don't become so distracted from your duties that ciel has to come to me to find you."

this time, sebastian's lips morph into a smug smile. "of course. it won't happen again."

and when you put the origami flowers into an empty vase, you know he's running through all the scenarios where he could do exactly that once more.

[fairuzfan]

"Israel also secretly hires Jewish Americans as spies to work out of its Washington embassy and its consulates around the United States to covertly surveil and monitor fellow Americans, including students. Thoroughly vetted to ensure loyalty to Israel, many of those hired have spent years heavily involved in pro-Israeli activities from the time they were in college and before. Among them was Julia Reifkind, who led a pro-Israel group at the University of California at Davis before moving on to become an activist with AIPAC. After she graduated in 2016, she was hired by Israel and assigned to its embassy in Washington.

Reifkind had good preparation for her assignment. Thinking that Kleinfeld was a fellow pro-Israel activist, over dinner at Washington’s Mari Vanna restaurant she revealed that while at AIPAC she spent much of her time deceiving college students about her covert connection to the organization. “Obviously, I’m an AIPAC-trained campus activist,” she said. “When you’re lobbying on behalf of AIPAC, you don’t say AIPAC, you say, ‘I’m a pro-Israel student from UC Davis.’ And when you’re meeting with students on campus I would never say, ‘I am the AIPAC campus rep.’ I’d say, ‘My name is Julia and I’m a pro-Israel student.’”

At the embassy, Reifkind focused on developing intelligence on fellow Americans, including students on college campuses. “So nobody really knows what we’re doing,” she said. “But mainly it’s been a lot of research like monitoring BDS.”

In a different conversation, Reifkind explained: “It’s mainly gathering intel, reporting back to Israel. That’s a lot of what I do. To report back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Strategic Affairs, and make sure they have the right information.” Among the ways she spies on pro-Palestinian activists and Palestinian human rights supporters is with phony Facebook accounts. “I have my fake Facebook that I follow all the SJP [Students for Justice in Palestine] accounts. I have some fake names. My name is Jay Bernard or something.”

Once Reifkind collected the intelligence on her targets, she passed it on to her boss at the embassy. Then it was sent to the Ministry of Strategic Affairs and other offices over a secure encrypted system called Cables. It’s “really secure,” she said. “I don’t have access to [it] because I’m an American.… I’ve seen it, it looks really bizarre…. And then they’ll send something back and he’ll translate it and tell me what I need to do.”

Since the brutal Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians on October 7 and the Israeli invasion of Gaza, the ICC and its US-based spy networks are no doubt working overtime. But there is little likelihood of interference by the FBI—well trained to look the other way when it comes to Israel. It was a situation that even frustrated a former head of the FBI’s counterintelligence division. When I asked him why no one would talk to me about Israel’s massive espionage in the United States, he simply shook his head.

“You don’t think Israel’s a sensitive topic?” he asked, requesting that his name not be used. “So, Israel has been looked at and is being looked at and that’s all I can tell you,” he said. “But nobody’s doing anything.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“You can imagine,” is all he would say, implying high-level political involvement. I then said that I was planning to write about the topic. “I hope you do. I hope you do,” he said. Sighing, he added, “I’ve been there done that. I know it. I’ve brought cases to the Department of Justice on Israel.” Cases that were never opened."

— Israel’s War on American Student Activists by James Bamford on The Nation

[martian-astro10]

Solar return observations- Part 2

The year in which you have aquarius AC, you will focus more on yourself, if you've been hanging out with "friends" who don't make you feel happy, this is the year when you'll get the courage to leave them.

I have noticed that a lot of people in their last year of college have capricorn in 11th. This basically means that you prefer hanging out with people whose professional goals align with yours and who you think can help in advancing your career. (you may also feel very lonely)

Everyone knows that a stellium in 1st house indicates an increased self worth but I have seen that a 2nd house stellium also has the same effect. (we were going through some financial difficulties last year, and this year my mom has a 2nd house stellium and basically all our issues got resolved and she went to this meditation and yoga centre, she has been taking really good care of herself and she looks so happy 🥺, she's literally glowing)

I have Mars in 12th this year.... And God, it is so difficult to control your anger but with this you HAVE to suppress your anger. Even if you express your emotions, nobody's gonna listen to you. (it's like when you know that someone is a bad person but everybody else loves them so you have to pretend that you like them too)

If you are someone who keeps their feelings to themselves, the year when you have your moon in pisces can be a great year for you. You're gonna be a waterfall this year, and I don't think that it's a bad thing, sometimes, you just need to let it all out. (emotions occupy space in your body, so just cry and yell)

Last year, I had pluto in 2nd house and it was the year when I started earning money ALL ON MY OWN (and also the year when I realised that break up is not the most painful thing, it's the drdrdrdrdr sound that the atm makes when you take out money, THAT SHIT HURTS)

If you have neptune conjunct Venus in 7th in libra - that guy is not good, he's love bombing you, RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN

On the other hand, The year when you have moon in capricorn in 7th, is the year when you'll realise that it's much more important to be with a guy who takes care of you when you're sick and does household chores and is clean and hygienic instead of being with a guy who wants to fuck you 24/7 (btw, it's possible to be with a guy who's both, it's just very rare)

When I was preparing for this post, I noticed that a lot of people had their first kiss when their asteroid kiss was conjuncting Mars/Venus. I guess it makes sense, but I'm not really sure. (take it as you like) kiss asteroid number = 8267

The year that my sister started her master's she had a virgo AC with a 9th house chiron and.... This girl was so exhausted that she did not even have the time to talk to me, we literally talked on her birthday, the next year 🙂. That's how busy she was. My advice to you is to eat as healthy as you can, the probability of you getting sick is high so take care of yourself. (especially if you have pluto in 6th house)

(all pictures are taken from Pinterest)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[dfortrafalgar]

It's A Match

Law x Fem Reader

Maybe some things are just meant to be.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. did you know if you open your google docs at 1am and find over 10 finished or almost finished fics from the start of requests on this blog that you might feel immense amounts of guilt never seen before in mankind? me neither

ugh. i miss law. and this blog... sorry to keep ya'll waiting so long </3

This is the second part to my request fic An Out!

Warnings: None! Just lighthearted fluff and good vibes <3

Law snorted at his phone before shoving it back into the pocket of his baggy sweatshirt, trying to turn his focus back to his anatomy textbook in preparation for an upcoming exam.  It was quite hard to fully turn his mind off, however.

A rumor had started circulating around the small college campus by a certain girl, peeved at how ‘Her date ended in a complete disaster!  She walked in on him making out with another woman!  He led her on!  He’s such a scumbag!’  Given this girl’s reputation as a fairly popular figure, the accusations were quickly pointed at Law.  Not like his friends helped to bail him out in the slightest.  Though, she failed to mention many important details, such as the fact that they were in a public bookstore, the fact that she spent the better part of three hours insulting everything about Law’s personality and interests, and had made him pay for her overpriced lunch with his already feeble college income.  Not like her expansive social circle would care about Law’s point of view, anyway.

Oh well.  It certainly could’ve been worse.

And besides, the girl Law did end up dating as a result of his disaster outing ended up being the best thing to ever happen to him, and it had only been about a month.

She was quick on her feet, dedicated and committed to her friends, hobbies, and work.  She was as intelligent as she was witty, sensitive and empathetic, the kind of girl who would help elderly folk cross a busy street… and then bash a dent into the side of a pompous asshole’s overpriced SUV for not stopping while she helped the elders.  And it was true that she attended the same college as Law.  She was even in one of his general education lectures, but the class attendance was so large that she had never stuck out to him.

Until now, of course.

Now, he turned heads by making a beeline toward her at the start of every lecture, the girl moving her bag to the side to free up the seat she had been clearly saving for him.  He dutifully took notes on PowerPoint slides that had no relevance to his future as a cardiopulmonary surgeon while she whittled away the monotonous hours playing Minesweeper on her laptop.  But she was the one who would lend him the required reading for the class, Law being too frugal to pay for his textbooks himself and instead choosing to coin them off of others, or straight up pirate them.

They seemed like a match made in heaven.

“And I’m Dr. Heart Stealer’s girlfriend,” she boasted to nobody but Law while taking a bite out of her deli sandwich in the cafeteria.  “If I ever see that girl on campus again, I hope you dip me super far down and make out with me sloppy style.”

Law nearly choked on the potato chip in his mouth.  “Never say that ever again.”

“What, you don’t want to make out with me?” she asked, feigning offense, clearly knowing that he was more concerned about the other part of her sentence.

“No, I want to make out with you.  But if you ever say ‘sloppy style’ to my face ever again I’m getting a restraining order.”  The look in his eyes told her that he was serious, but the smirk on his lips proved otherwise.

“And Dr. Heart Stealer claims another victim,” she sighed woefully.

Law flicked a chip crumb from his hand toward her, laughing under his breath as it bounced off of her forehead.  A surprised giggle left her throat as she pretended to scoff at him.  She swallowed a witty comment with a hefty bite of her sandwich.

“I’m too hungry to keep bickering with you,” she muttered with her mouth full.

“There’ll be plenty more time for that,” Law countered, smiling into the back of his tattooed hand.  A chime sounded on his phone, causing him to pull the device from his pocket.

“Time to go?” she asked, wrapping up her unfinished sandwich in the aluminum foil it had come in.

“Unfortunately,” Law groaned.  “I have another exam this afternoon.”

“You’re going to become the world’s greatest surgeon with the amount of tests they make you take as an undergrad,” she added, packing up her things and watching with bright eyes as Law did as well.  “If I ever have a severe heart condition, I’d want you to give me a transplant.”

‘There’d probably be conflict of interest about a surgeon operating on his wife,’ he thought, before quickly scrambling his thoughts.  His cheeks flushed with a deep red hue.

“Hey, what about that was so crazy?!” she demanded with a laugh.  “Why are you blushing?”

She slipped her hand into his, noting his quiet mumble in response, as they proceeded out of the dining hall and into the chill air of early autumn.  She shivered and pulled the collar of her coat tighter around her neck with her free hand.  “I don’t know how you can stay so warm dressed in so little,” she sighed.

“When you’re raised in the North Blue, you get used to the cold,” he stated back.

“Us South Blue folk don’t have it so easy, but you’d probably melt instantly in our summers,” she replied with a laugh.

“I don’t know how to swim, either, so that would definitely suck.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she demanded, whirling around to face Law and cutting off his walking path.  “You don’t know how to swim?!”

“Nope,” he responded, accentuating the P sound with his lips.  “My dad likes to joke that I’m cursed or something.  When I get in the water, I just sink.”

“I’ll teach you how to swim,” she boasted reassuringly.  “I only ever float.”

Law glanced down at her chest for a brief second, then back up to her eyes.  She smirked at him.

“Saw that.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Instead of continuing the endless cycle of denial, Law simply laughed, snatching her hand back into his and dragging her to her own dorm building so they could depart and he could take his last exam of the day.

“Want me to get anything while you’re hunched over some paper?” she asked.

“Some popcorn would be nice,” he answered.

“And a movie?  We can watch that new crappy B-rank film that just came out LineTube.”

Law answered her last question by placing a warm, slightly chapped kiss against her lips.  “A movie sounds fantastic, baby.”

With a wide smile and sparkling eyes, she nodded and darted back into her building, adrenaline coursing through her veins as a result of his sudden, fiery kiss.  Law chuckled as he watched her round the corner into the building, shouldering his backpack and proceeding toward his lecture hall.

He never thought he could ever have this much fun in a relationship, especially not a romantic one.  He shouldn’t have doubted this girl in the first place though, not with the way she gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a breathtaking kiss and public display of completely fake rom-com style betrayal in order to bail him out of a shitty date.  She had been nothing but a light in his otherwise boring life in the month that had passed.  No longer did Law wake up just to go to class, study, eat, and study some more.  Now his daylight hours were spent hanging out with this gorgeous, hilarious and impactful girl who liked to spurt out facts about insects just as much as he liked to indulge in graphic descriptions of open heart surgery.  And studying, obviously.

His best friends loved making fun of him for it, but he could see it in their eyes just how much they loved her too.  Having her around encouraged Law to go out more often, visit his friends’ apartments, go out to bars and restaurants, or take spontaneous drives around town at night.  He was like an entirely new person.  Still broody and short-tempered, but far more understanding and even somewhat outgoing, more than he had ever been before.

She was like a dream come true.

[streetlight11]

Love You For Eternity

Summary: Having a best friend is one of the best things in life. For you, it was him. He was your best friend, your partner in crime, your shoulder to cry on, your happiness, your soulmate, your eternity, your absolute everything...

Theme: childhood friends au, best friends to lovers

Genre: very fluffy

Warnings: mentions of being cheated on

WC: 3.4k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I was listening to Chan's recent SKZ RECORD 'Eternity' and the lyrics is so sweet that I got the inspiration to write this. I hope you enjoy this fic and let me know if there's any mistakes or things need to be improved! Enjoy ✨

There’s a popular phrase which most people could relate to and it goes like so; ‘People often come and go in your life, but the right ones will always stay’.

Throughout your whole life, you’ve had many friends. But at the end of the day, not many stayed. You can literally count with your fingers the amount of friends you had left who were the really close ones. And of all the close friends you had left, one of them meant the world to you. Nobody could ever replace him and nobody could ever make you feel the way he does.

You met him back in kindergarten when you were both at the age of 5. You were in the second form class, he was in the first form class. Everyday, you would only see him during play time because that is where both your classes would be brought to the playroom a few doors down from your classroom for an hour. Usually, you never liked to mingle or make new friends outside of your class simply because you’re a timid little girl. However, on that one unfortunate day is when you first interacted with him.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, where your teachers were preparing to bring you to the playroom. You were partnered with your best friend Mikayla for the short walk. When you made it to the playroom, the students from the other class were already there which means your class made it there just a tad later than them. Once you were all given the permission to go inside and play around for an hour, you began to head towards the slide with Mikayla. At one point, you were playing catch with her when you accidentally slipped and fell.

Hitting your chin onto the foam mat with a strong impact which left you crying. Not long after, a teacher came and carefully brought you to the side as she then hugged you to calm you down. She was sitting on the ground with you in her lap, burying your face in her shoulder while you cried. She rubbed your back soothingly as she said comforting words to you. Just then, you felt someone gently pat your head so you lifted your head up. That���s when you locked eyes with a boy with sparkly eyes. He looked concerned but then he smiled at you.

You held eye contact with him for a while as he gently patted your back to comfort you. Your teacher then asked if you had any injuries, she checked your mouth to see if you accidentally chipped a tooth or bit your lip or what not but it seemed like none of that happened. So she told you to sit here and rest if you wanted to, in which you agreed.

She got up to monitor the other kids while you sat there wiping your tears away. The boy from earlier sat down next to you as he flashes you an adorable smile.

“Is it still painful?” He asked.

“A little.” You quietly said and he nodded.

“My name is Chris. What is your name?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“Let’s be friends.” He said so you smiled. And that was the start of your friendship with him.

As the years go by, you went to the same schools which you also ended up being classmates through the entire years of school. Chris had many friends growing up but some of them come and go. On the other hand, you are never going anywhere and he won’t let you. The sad thing was, on the day of your high school graduation, he told you that he was leaving the country to go study in an overseas college which you dreaded so much.

You and Chris were like two peas in a pod.

Wherever one goes, the other will follow.

So to hear that he would be thousands of miles away, made you feel sad and uneasy. He told you that he will keep in touch with you every single day as if he never left but deep down, you knew it felt different.

Nevertheless, you weren’t going to stop him from going just because you want him close to you all the time. Which is why when he was supposed to leave, you sent him off at the airport together with your family and his. You promised him that you will look after his parents, Hannah, Lucas and Berry while he’s gone which he very much appreciates. After he had entered the departure hall and had gone further in, you sighed as his mother came over to give you a warm hug. She comforts you telling you that it was okay. You thanked her genuinely, only for Hannah to speak up.

“Since my older brother’s gone now, does that mean you’re my new older sister to replace him?” She asks cheekily, making you laugh.

“I’d love to.” You said as they all laughed.

Years soon went by and you were happy in college. Although you do still keep in contact with Chris every week, it wasn’t a secret that you miss him harder with every day that passes by.

Despite him being miles and miles away, you still keep him updated about almost everything that’s going on in your life. From school to friends to activities and even to dating and hookups. He would also tell you things that are happening in his life whenever you would facetime or even through texts. It’s interesting to hear how similar yet also different your lives were in both countries.

It’s been 4 years since you last saw him in person and today was the day you would be graduating from college. Your parents came down for your graduation ceremony as guests with the tickets you got for them so that they could enter the hall. The whole ceremony went perfectly as you collected your certificate on stage without embarrassing yourself. After the whole ceremony was over, it was time to leave the hall either for the buffet, for photo taking with your family and friends or to head home.

You met up with your family as they brought you to a corner where it wasn’t too crowded. Some of your friends came down to give you flowers and celebrate your graduation together which was really sweet. You were just taking pictures with your best friend as your younger brother was your photographer when someone tapped your shoulder. You turned around thinking it was a random student or a stranger but you were wrong. As soon as you turn around, your smile drops and you freeze from an immense amount of shock.

Standing in front of you now was Chris.

Who was wearing a white button down shirt, denim jeans and a pair of sneakers. He grins at you whilst holding a bouquet of your favourite blue roses with baby's breath flowers around it.

“Hey.” He chuckles adorably and you seem to have lost your words.

“Is it really you?” You asked in denial, making him laugh.

“Do you wanna check if I’m real?” He laughs again. This time, you bent down to put everything down on the ground before throwing yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while you buried your face in his neck. Chris laughs at your reaction but still wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You started tearing up and he felt it.

“Oi! Stop crying! You’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup!” Chris teasingly raises his voice at you as he pulls away. Everyone around you laughed at how funny and cute you were. Chris then took the tissue that your mother held for him to take as he wipes your tears away.

After a few more minutes, you finally took pictures with him for memories of your graduation. Once everything was settled, you thanked your friends for coming and they congratulated you once again before leaving. Meanwhile, Chris stayed upon getting an invite from your parents to go grab some dinner with your family which he agreed to. As you all began to walk out of the place, you walked with Chris behind your family. You turned to get a good look at him and he laughed.

“What? You still can’t believe I’m here?” He asks.

“Uh? Duh! You told me you couldn’t come to my graduation because of your own graduation!” You scolded him as you gently punched his arm.

“Well obviously I had to lie? I didn’t wanna ruin my surprise!” He said casually, earning a scoff from you.

“Kudos to you for pulling it off then.” You smiled at him as he ruffled your hair playfully. Dinner was nice and he told your family about his plans now that he’s graduated college. He said that he’ll be moving back here in a month's time and so you got happy.

And that was exactly what he did.

As each year went by, your friendship with Chris kept growing stronger and stronger now that he’s physically back here with you. Every guy you went on a date with, could never reach your expectations simply because of how high your best friend has set the bar for you. From a certain perspective, it might seem ridiculous and overrated. But on some perspective, it was set on a level where you realised that that is how you deserve to be treated. With the past dates and failed relationships you’ve had over the last decade, it made you realise how low and shitty those guys have ever made you feel.

It even got to a point where you were giving up on finding someone who could barely treat you right. Until that one night where you came to Chris’ apartment door crying after your boyfriend of 2 years broke up with you when you found him cheating on you.

He didn’t expect to see you there but he knew you needed him at that moment. So instead of letting you cry and calm down on your own, he brought you to his room and led you to his bed. He laid with you in bed, his blanket covering both your bodies as you cried onto his chest and he comfortingly caressed your head. You took at least 10 minutes to finally stop crying and calm down but he was so patient with you. Ever since then, you stopped going on dates to avoid getting your heart broken again. And all this time, Chris was right there next to you.

It’s been months since your break up and you’ve healed from it, not to mention moved on.

It was a Friday evening and Chris asked if you wanted to hang out at his place. You agreed easily to it considering he was your best friend.

When you arrived at his apartment, he greeted you at the door with just a cosy pair of sweatpants. You’ve seen him shirtless a couple times so it’s pretty normal for you by now. The only problem is, you find it harder and harder to keep your emotions hidden every single time mainly because of how much he’s changed over the years.

Mind you, this was the same Christopher who comforted you when you fell on your chin in preschool. So when he caught you glancing down at his abs briefly, he smirked teasingly whilst saying, “Do you like what you see?”

“Ew! Shut up!” You laughed, shoving his shoulders lightly and he chuckled.

“Oh what? You’re shy now?” He asked teasingly which made you scowl at him.

“Christopher Bahng, I swear-”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll stop.” He says with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes at him but the smile growing on your face, quickly betrayed you.

You hung out with him that night, quickly losing track of time even though you weren’t really doing anything significant other than watching movies, chatting, gossiping and snacking. It was already a quarter past midnight but you weren’t planning to head home anytime soon. He was sitting next to you, scrolling through the movies on netflix when an idea struck you.

“Hey, are you tired?” You asked.

“Nope. Why?” Chris asks without turning to you.

“Wanna go for a little walk?” You asked as he finally turned to you with an amused smile on his face.

“You wanna go outside? Where do you wanna go though?” He asks.

“I don’t know.”

The room fell silent as you both thought of a place to go. Just then, he suggests something.

“How about we’ll drive around and see where that leads us. Then we’ll stop somewhere nice where we can chill?”

“Sounds good. What time shall we go?”

“Do you wanna go now or a little later?” He looks at you softly, melting you in your seat.

“Later. When there’s lesser people outside.” You said and he laughed. Nevertheless, he agrees and waits with you.

An hour had passed and you were both preparing to leave. Chris had changed into a white shirt, a black oversized bomber jacket, denim jeans and a pair of sneakers. He also recently dyed his hair to a strawberry brunette colour. He lent you one of his oversized jackets which was too big on you but you loved it. Especially since it’s his but of course you couldn’t tell him that. You zipped it up to just below your chest while one side hangs loosely off your shoulder. Once you were both ready, you left his apartment as he chats with you about random topics.

The drive was basically aimless with no particular destination. After about half an hour of driving, you reached a part of the town which was empty and quiet.

All the street shops were closed and there were no cars on the road aside from the few that were parked along the side. There weren't any drunk or sober humans lingering around the street either, which was great. So he parked at one of the lots before you both left the vehicle.

“We have the whole street to ourselves.” You giggled while he smiled at you.

“What should we do?"

“Let’s capture these moments. I wanna be able to look back on it on days when I feel down or empty…” You said as you took your phone out and clicked the camera app.

This was normal to him because you do this every time you hang out with him or go on spontaneous trips like this. You loved to capture random moments like this so you could look back on them for the memories you shared with him.

You turned on the front camera video and clicked the record button before setting it up against one of the shop’s window ledges to work as a phone stand. Once it was standing securely, you turned to see him standing a few feet behind you with his hand tucked in his hoodie pockets. Chris was just staring at you quietly with a fond smile on his face. Since he didn’t seem like he was gonna move anytime soon, you giggled as you leaped forward. He opened his arms just in time to catch you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while he hugged your waist. He laughed at you, saying you’re funny in which you thanked him. Just then, he suggested a challenge.

You will both go to the end of the street where the traffic light is and you will both have to run towards the phone. You easily agreed to it and he was excited. When you made it to the end of the street and you could sort of see yourself on your phone screen, you turned to him to ask a few more questions.

“Loser has to do what?” You asked.

“The loser has to eat a whole bowl of spicy noodles.”

“Damn, you make me wanna lose although I hate spicy food.” Just then, he tapped your shoulder and quickly took off running.

“Race you there!” He sprints down the pathway, leaving you behind.

“Hey! You cheated!” You screamed in between laughs but soon sprinted down.

You tried to catch up to him as best as you could. Once you managed to run past him, Chris laughed. You were just a few metres away from the finish line when he grabbed your jacket to pull you back. This caused you to stumble back, only to crash into his chest while he back hugs you.

Both your laughters echoed around the empty street, feeling him wrap his arms securely around you.

“Christopher! Let go!” You giggled but he refused to let go of you.

"No. That way no one loses.” You laughed in his arms feeling him bury his face in your neck, smiling against your skin. He then guided you towards his car before he leaned against the door.

You took this chance to turn around and face him. When you did, Chris still had his hands on your waist while you gently slid your hands up his chest to rest your wrists on top of his shoulders. Neither of you talked but the atmosphere seemed warm and cosy between the two of you.

You then caught his eyes glancing down at your lips. This made the butterflies in your stomach erupt. Chris then looks back up into your eyes and his lips curled into a soft smile.

“I’m never letting go.”

“We can’t stay out here all night, Chris.” You giggled, only for him to shake his head. You get confused, tilting your head to the side slightly and he chuckles.

So he explained to you, “I’ve known you ever since the day when we were kids. Nothing in the world could beat our little special bond. Every moment with you is a precious memory and I’m lucky that you’re my best friend… So, I’m never letting you go…” Chris says with so much fondness in his voice that it makes you melt against his arms.

You smiled at him, feeling like your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“Chris…” His name slips past your tongue in a whisper which he heard loud and clear. Your hands were now resting on his stomach while he reached up to hold your face with both his hands gently. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, never breaking eye contact with you.

Without any words exchanged, he carefully leans his head forward slowly to see if you would pull away. When he was just an inch away and he realises that you weren’t pulling away, Chris finally closes the gap fully.

He gently kisses on you the lips, feeling his soft lips touch yours.

You wrap your hands around his waist as you feel his lips curl into a smile against yours.

After a few seconds, you pulled back for a breath but kept his face close to yours. His lips hovered over yours as he kissed you again. You giggled into the kiss, earning a smile from him when he pulled away.

“What?” He asks but you gently pat your hands against his chest while he drops his hands to your waist.

“Nothing. You’re just so adorable…” You said, making him blush.

“I love you, Y/N… I love you for eternity.” Chris says, making you hug him.

You felt him wrap his arms around your waist securely, making you feel safe.

“I love you for eternity too, Chris.” You whispered against his shoulder. You then felt him kiss your neck before you pulled away to look at his face. He was smiling softly at you as you took this chance to kiss him again. A couple of seconds later, he whispers over your lips, “Let’s get your phone and head back home.” You nodded and did as he said.

Once you took your phone back, you both went in the car and he drove you back to his place.

The drive back home was filled with a peaceful silence as you tangled your fingers together with his hand in your lap. When you made it back to his apartment, you both took warm showers separately before changing into his comfortable clothes for sleeping. You climbed into bed next to him, only for Chris to pull you in. You laid your head on his chest while one of your legs rested in between his. He hugs you close, making sure you are safe in his arms. Right before you fall asleep, Chris reaches up to tilt your chin up using his fingers and soon kisses your lips softly.

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight… I love you…” You whispered tiredly as he smiled down at you before kissing you again.

“I love you more.” His gentle voice says and soon, you both fell asleep.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I please get riddles mom and azuls mom interacting. Some thing about riddles mom being this really strict and judge mental person interacting with someone who got with their divorce lawyer is just so enticing.

Consider this interaction running parallel with this one, in which Riddle consults Azul's stepfather for advice while Azul and his mom check out the cafeteria's food.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

There was something to be said about the allure of a strong woman.

Azul felt that sentiment true when he stood next to his mother. Wherever she strutted, the people would part for her, letting the savvy woman in a slick black gown peel and a golden spiral seashell necklace through. Her silvery hair was pinned up neatly and speared with a crown-shaped comb.

She meant business. Ate it, breathed it, radiated it--and every room she stepped into bended to her command.

“I think you’ll be pleased with Night Raven College’s selection, mother,” Azul commented, passing her a clean plate. He swept his other hand over the waiting buffet. “Menu items are on a rotation, but there is always a good variety to choose from. The specials change every day—I have it on good word that today’s recommendation is the mince meat pie. They’re prepared by several highly skilled ghost chefs, some of which were personally scouted by the headmaster from three-star restaurants!”

Mrs. Ashengrotto nodded approvingly. “This will make for excellent market research. I would like to sample as much as we feasibly can. A shame to be without my tentacles though.” She tested a hand, fingers curling into her palm. “It would making fetching the food so much more efficient.”

“There are two of us,” Azul said quickly. He glanced around, making sure that no one had overheard the talk of tentacles. “We can split up to cover more ground.”

“I will stay here. I’d like to receive the mince meat pie fresh—it would be the most accurate way to judge the integrity of its pastry shell.”

“Then I’ll begin with the dessert bar in the back and work my way back to reunite with you."

“It’s a plan.”

With that, Azul took off, vanishing in a swarm of students.

Mrs. Ashengrotto headed for the counter serving the daily special. The line moved quickly—but right in front of her, raised voices flares up. She cocked a brow and craned her head.

A woman in a crimson blazer and skirt, mouth painted blood red, hair gathered into a tight bun, was arguing with a ghost chef. She jabbed a gloved finger at the mince meat pie held out to her.

“You must carve this up into a smaller portion size—exactly 300 grams,” she demanded. “Surely you don’t expect a growing boy to finish an entire pie on his own. The sodium level would exceed the recommended daily intake.”

“As I’ve already told you, ma’am, it’s impossible for me to give you exactly 300 grams,” the ghost chef retorted, sounding slightly frazzled. “Can’t you take the whole pie and divvy it up at your table?”

“The kitchen scales are here,” she insisted, “so it is most prudent for the carving to occur here.”

“Please, ma’am! You’re holding up the line!!”

Mrs. Ashengrotto cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

“Hmm?” The lady in red spun around, locking eyes with her.

“E-Eeep!!” The ghost chef shrunk back.

Here stood two powerful, poised women—like ice and fire—and he, trapped between them.

“If you would be so kind as to present me with a mince meat pie, a knife, and your scale, I believe I can rectify this situation,” Mrs. Ashengrotto suggested.

“But you’re a customer…” the ghost chef said faintly.

“A customer with plenty of experience in both the food and the business side of restauranteuring. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

The ghost chef gulped and shot off. He returned moments later with the things Mrs. Ashengrotto had asked for, sliding them toward her from across the counter.

The lady in red sent an unimpressed look her way. “… And who are you to be making such bold claims?”

“Oh, just another mother like yourself,” Mrs. Ashengrotto calmly replied, "so I understand the desire to see our children eating well."

She had placed her empty plate on the scale after zeroing it, clocking the weight as 60 grams. Then Mrs. Ashengrotto brought the knife down swiftly, so fast that her arm was a blur. The pie was cleaved cleanly. She placed half on her own plate. The whole cafeteria seemed to fall into a hush as she slid the remaining mince meat pie onto the scale.

[360.00 g]

“Here you are, then.” Mrs. Ashengrotto passed the pie to the lady in red. “Subtracting the weight of the plate itself, this meets your specifications.”

The other woman's eyes narrowed, but she accepted the offering without protest. "At least someone around here is competent," she sniffed. "Thank you."

Mrs. Ashengrotto provided her most professional smile. "Please enjoy your meal--and send your son my regards."

The lady in red nodded stiffly. The ghost chef held his breath until the she was out of sight--then he deflated like a balloon with its air let loose.

"Y-You're an afterlife saver, lady!" the ghost chef sobbed. "I was at my wit's end dealing with that hellish woman!"

“Don't mention it, dear," Mrs. Ashengrotto reassured him. "I’m used to dealing with difficult clientele at my own eatery. We're kindred spirits."

"Do you like pies?" The ghost chef eyed the cut of mince meat on her plate. "Hold on, I'll bring you one of every kind we have as thanks for that save! Apple, banana cream, coconut cream, chocolate pudding..."

"Well, if you're offering--but I couldn't possibly have the arms to carry that much pie back to my table."

"Not a problem, ma'am! I'll get some of my staff to do it for you." The ghost chef clapped his hands, summoning several other ghosts to his side. "Boys, let's serve this lady some pie!"

"Yessir! Pie, coming right up, sir!"

"Ahahah, that's much appreciated." Mrs. Ashengrotto tucked a hand under her chin and chuckled. Won't Azul be surprised when he comes back! There will be plenty of sweets for us to share.

[homunculus-argument]

I think it's always supremely funny when something has a character who's distinctly more Genre than everyone else in the setting - like everyone else is living in the kind of "everyone shits themselves when they die" kind of miserably drab Game of Thrones kind of low fantasy setting but there's just this one fucking guy on an epic high fantasy quest because he saw a bird do something weird and This Was An Omen That He Must Embark On This Journey, while everyone else is like "dude why do you talk like that."

Even better if it isn't even the same genre as everyone else. Just living in their own world that's clearly internally consistent but incomprehensible to anyone else. Funnier yet, when once it has been firmly established that this dude just lives like this, it's dramatically revealed that there's two of them, literally just one other person who's exactly like this, too.

Like the story is just some normal family slice of life comedy, except one of the dads is just Like That. And then some completely bat shit insane weirdo shows up out of nowhere trying to fight this guy, and the dad just responds in the exact same style of dramatic right back, with no hesitation. Nobody but his wife has any idea what the hell is going on, and she wishes it was not going on. Their kids ask their dad what the hell that was about, who is this guy.

And he just goes "Forgive me for keeping this from you. I can see now that my attempts to keep the shadows of my past a secret from you, in order to protect you, have been foolish. I should have prepared you for this day. The consequences of the failures of my youth. You see, I was not always the man that you know now as your father."

(His wife chimes in from the other room, saying "don't listen to him, kids. He's literally always been like that.")

And this other weird guy barges in like "Brace yourself, villain! I have come for my vengeance! For years I have sought you, tracked you like a beast as you have fled like an animal, but now I have cornered you here. You, traitor who were once my brother, who robbed me of the life that should have been rightfully mine!"

And without skipping a beat the dad turns to him like "You fool! Still you are blinded by your own insolent pride! It was not I who schemed or sought your downfall, but it was your own arrogance that brought you down!" And their battle continues while this guy's family calmly watches from the side.

And the mom explains that yeah, they used to know each other in college. Both of them were already like that when they met, and they were best buds at the time, almost all the way through. No, they didn't start fighting over her. Nobody else but them even knows what this beef is about. And all the while this background story is being explained, they're watching two middle-aged dudes engaged in combat with shitty mall katanas in a grocery store parking lot.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 12

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

A/N: hehe i think y'all might enjoy this one. it's a longer one

“Have a good one, see you!” Isla calls out, smiling at the family that leaves The Wreck as she cleans up one of the tables, stacking used cups on the tray she holds in one hand. 

The business day is winding down as the sun begins its slow descent, and Isla is glad her parents decided not to hold the usual business hours this weekend while they’re out of town. Unsurprisingly, it was a long and bustling day, which is always the case during peak tourist season. But Isla doesn’t mind the busy hours, keeping her occupied as she waits tables and cleans up once the customers are gone.

Throughout the day, she does her best not to check the time too often, the hours spent being excited for her plans later that night. Isla booked her and Rafe tickets for a comedy show on the island over after getting dinner; it’s not anything special, like how he made her dinner, but it’s a fun thing to do that she thinks they’d both enjoy. She has been looking forward to it all day and from Rafe’s texts, so has he. His anticipation, funnily enough, makes her stomach flutter even more with excitement.

Not that she can share it with anyone, so she just goes about her day as normally as she can.

Fifty-six minutes before she can clock out, Holly, the assistant manager, comes bursting out of the backroom leading into the kitchen. Isla looks up from the table she’s clearing, the bin of dirty dishes resting against her hip, and her heart drops when she sees the alarmed expression on Holly’s face. “Hey, what’s going on?” Isla asks, putting the bin on the table and meeting Holly by the counter. “Everything okay?”

Holly lets out a shaky breath, fingers running through her hair. “My, uh, grandpa had a heart attack—” Isla’s eyes widen, breath hitching in her throat as she takes a hold of Holly’s trembling hand. “He’s in the hospital. I know it’s last minute, but—”

“Go, go,” Isla cuts her off, squeezing Holly’s hand. “I’ll close out here. Go be with your family.”

Holly nods, eyes glassy. “Thank you, Isla.”

“Of course,” Isla says, watching as Holly moves in a daze, clocking out and gathering her things before she leaves The Wreck.

Isla exhales slowly, worry for her friend tightening her chest. She knows how close Holly is with her grandfather, so she hopes that he will be fine. Shaking her head, Isla turns back to the table to grab the bin, her thoughts slowly drifting to the sudden change of plans. As she hands the bin off to Oliver to take back to the kitchen, Isla faces the reality that she won’t be able to make her date tonight with Rafe. With Holly gone, Isla is the only employee on shift who can close out the restaurant, and with when the restaurant closes and the time it will take for her to close out the register, they will definitely not make it to the show in time.

Shit.

Going behind the counter, Isla sighs and pulls her phone out from the back pocket of her denim shorts, lips twisting to the side in dismay as she texts Rafe.

don’t hate me. Holly had a family emergency so i have to close. might have to rain check :(

She pockets her phone after sending the text, sighing as she doesn’t bother to check the time, since she won’t be getting out of here as soon as she thought. Glancing towards the glass wall that looks out to the outdoor seating area, Isla notes that the sun is setting, painting the sky in a pretty combination of pink, orange, and purple. A plane flies overhead in the distance, its lights blinking as it passes by while Isla wipes a table. 

When she’s ringing up the bill for one of the tables, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out to see that Rafe has texted her.

Rafe:

Are you closing by yourself?

She’s quick to text him back.

Isla: yeah

Rafe: 

When does the last of the staff leave?

Arching an eyebrow while reading his text, Isla’s pulse skitters as she replies.

Isla: 

9, why?

Rafe: 

I’ll be there.

Her eyes widen when she reads those three words, blinking at the message a couple of times, as though the words will change, before she forces herself to text him again. She asks what he means, what he’s planning, but all Rafe does is send her a smiley face emoji and doesn’t answer otherwise, which has her grunting in both frustration and amusement.

The rest of the time goes by without another word from Rafe, which only makes her suspicions grow as more and more of the other staff clock out for the day. When nine o’clock hits, Isla is the only one at the restaurant, the shadows of the chairs slanting against the floor and walls as she begins the process of balancing out the registers. Except, when 9:05 hits, there’s a knock on the front door of the restaurant, which has been locked, and Isla pauses, staring at the door in weary surprise.

Before she can even call out, she hears a familiar voice on the other side. “Isla, it’s me.”

A surprised exhale escapes her, the corners of her mouth turning up as she hurries from around the counter and to the door, unlocking it quickly before pulling the door open and grinning at the sight of Rafe. Her pulse quickens as he smiles back at her, blue eyes dancing with mirth as he takes in her surprised expression.

“I was looking forward to seeing you all day,” he says as he takes a step toward her, and Isla tilts her chin up to keep her gaze locked with his as he nears her. The breath hitches in Isla’s throat when his hands rest on her waist, her skin exposed thanks to the crop top she wears, the heat of his touch spreading throughout her body as he pulls her flush against him. “I’m too greedy for a raincheck.”

Isla laughs, a hand gently fisting the front of his shirt to pull him towards her. “That makes two of us,” she muses before standing on her toes, and Rafe is quick to oblige by ducking his head to press his lips to hers. The moment he kisses her, Isla moans softly against him, pulling him more towards her and into the restaurant. 

She can’t help but smile into the kiss at the fact that he came to see her, his lips soft as always and the taste of him making heat shoot through her, dampening her underwear the second his tongue slides along hers. Isla’s knees weaken, melting into him as they step further into the restaurant.

“Sorry I had to cancel,” she mumbles against him, her finger trailing along the sharp edge of his jaw.

“It’s okay,” he replies, pulling a giggle out of Isla as Rafe rains kisses down her neck, his hands sliding so his arms can wind around her waist as her skin electrifies everywhere his lips touch. “You’re just doing a friend a favor. You’ve got a good heart, Isla Carrera.” She can feel him smiling against her skin, a breath escaping her as his teeth teasingly graze that sensitive spot where her jaw meets her neck. “It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

She smiles dazedly at the ceiling, eyes fluttering in response to his kisses and words. Rafe has the dangerous, wonderful ability to overwhelm her with his touch, the delicious smell of him, his taste. “Really?” she asks, her voice breathless. “What else is there?”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low in his throat. “Maybe we should shut the door before I tell you, hm?”

“Oh, right,” Isla breathes out. Rafe laughs again, pulling away from her, and though she misses the closeness, she moves to shut and lock the door. But Isla giggles when Rafe’s arm remains winded around her waist, her hands gripping his arm as her back presses to his front. “You gonna let me go?” she asks as she steps to the door, Rafe coming along with her because of how he holds onto her.

“You can still close it,” Rafe muses unapologetically, his arm still protectively wrapped around her.

Isla laughs, but she doesn’t protest, not when she can feel the hard lines of his body against her as she reaches out and shuts the door. “Never thought you’d be the clingy type,” she teases as she locks the door, turning her head ever so slightly to look up at him behind her.

“Neither did I,” Rafe mumbles, loosening his grip enough for Isla to turn around and face him. He’s got that charming smile, the one that makes her heart skip too many beats. “Guess you bring it out in me.”

She shakes her head with a laugh again. “I need to close out the register,” she tells him.

He hums, nodding, and looks around the restaurant. As Isla walks back to go around the counter, he asks, “You need to get any other work done?” When she looks at him, he flashes her a smile, hands in the pockets of his pants. “I can help.”

“Really?” Isla asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement as she types on the register screen. With a playful tilt of her head, she asks, “Have you ever even touched a broom?”

Rafe throws her an affronted look before wiggling his fingers at her. “Where’s the broom?”

Laughing, Isla points to the closet door by the entrance to the kitchen, eyes tracking Rafe as he walks over to it in a confident stride and pulls the door open as she begins counting the money in the register. Her smile remains, a combination of surprised and amused, as Rafe grips the broom in one hand and the pole connecting to the dustpan and heads to the back corner of the restaurant to begin to sweep.

The fluttering in her chest returns as, while she counts, she watches him sweeping the floor, moving the chairs and getting under the tables. Much to her surprise—or maybe she just didn’t give him enough credit—he doesn’t fumble with the broom and pan, and isn't moving around stiffly or awkwardly. But either way, the sight of Rafe Cameron doing her work for her and sweeping her family’s restaurant forms a ball in her throat because much like everything else he does, Rafe does this with confidence, too.

He moves effortlessly around the floor, sweeping and gathering any dust or forgotten straw wrappers into the pan, and Isla loses her count more than once, too distracted by him. Much like everything else she has done with Rafe lately, this also feels surreal, as though if she looks away, he will disappear and that’s. . . Not at all what she wants.

It’s not until Rafe is dumping the dustbin’s contents in the trash that he arches a brow at her. Tone deeply teasing, he asks, “Does it normally take you this long to count the register?”

Heat pools in Isla’s cheeks, too aware of his playful grin because, well, he’s got a point. She usually does it in a few minutes, no problem. But Rafe’s presence is a severe distraction and judging by the gleam in his eyes and the smirk curving at his sinful mouth, he is well aware of the effect he has on her. Especially with how he stands with his hands gripping the top of the broom, standing tall with a straightened back and squared shoulders.

“No,” Isla huffs, locking the box with all of the cash that needs to be placed in the safe, which is in her parents’ office in the back. Picking up the heavy metal box, she mutters in embarrassment, “I’ll be back.”

It doesn’t take long for her to get her work done in the back. When she comes back out, she sees Rafe standing in front of the window that looks out to the outdoor patio of the restaurant, since Isla brought the blinds down on the other window panes save for one, which Rafe stands in front of. 

Her pulse is a steady beat as she approaches him, admiring the moonlight bathing his sharp, handsome features, and smiling shyly when he looks over at her. Despite the mirth dancing in his softening eyes, Isla rolls her bottom lip into her mouth and turns her gaze out the window, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment wash over her when she notes the sky has darkened, the stars appearing in the cloudless sky.

She bites the corner of her lips, inhaling sharply as she buries her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. And then Rafe bumps his hip to hers, noting the way he’s looking at her curiously when she looks up at him. “What’s that face for?” he murmurs, blue eyes looking over her face.

Isla’s expression turns to one of apology and regret, sighing. “I was looking forward to our date tonight,” she mumbles, distinctly hearing crickets chirping outside in the otherwise quiet of the night. Cringing slightly, she adds, “This is not what I had in mind.”

“Hey,” Rafe chuckles, turning to face her and her breath hitches when he grasps her chin between fingers to turn her face towards him. His thumb gently presses to her chin as he dips his own chin, maintaining eye contact as he tells her, “It’s okay. This is good—”

“Come on,” she cuts him off with a scoff, shaking her head and effectively making his hand drop away—which she misses already. “You cooked me dinner and I had you come here and help clean and close out my family’s restaurant. This isn’t romantic at all,” she deadpans, shoulders sinking in dismay.

The corner of his mouth curves up, hinting at a dimple. He hums in thought, head tilting back as he gazes up at the ceiling for a moment. “How about we make it romantic, then?” he asks as he looks back down at her. “This time. . .” His finger hooks around the loop of her shorts and Isla lets out a quiet gasp of a lap when he gives her a sharp tug towards him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. “You cook for me.”

Isla blinks, eyebrows rising. “Here?”

“Why not?” Rafe asks. “We’re at a restaurant. There’s food here, right? I’m sure something can be whipped up.”

He’s not wrong—except she can’t really think straight because, while his finger remains hooked around the belt loop, his thumb grazes along her skin just above the band of her shorts. The featherlight touch shoots sparks of electricity from where he touches throughout the rest of her body. Goosebumps prickle her skin as he brushes his thumb back and forth, her throat drying as she tries to get her thoughts straight.

Rafe dips his head towards her and Isla’s breath stutters when he brushes his nose along hers. “Right?” he repeats in a murmur.

Get it together, Isla. “Right,” she says, clearing her throat a little too loudly, because Rafe smirks and she blushes furiously. “Um—” She glances towards the kitchen, running through the things she knows how to make and searching for something that’s quick and easy. Looking back at Rafe, she asks, “How do you feel about chicken tacos?”

Rafe grins. “Sounds delicious,” he says, jutting his chin towards the kitchen. “I’ll help.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, but grins when he gives her a nudge towards the kitchen. The first thing Isla does is gather all of the ingredients and then they split up the work; she slices the chicken breasts, while Rafe grabs a small bowl to mix together all of the different spices and seasonings. 

They work side by side as Rafe asks, “You think we could get away with spending a day in Chapel Hill again?”

Isla smiles, glancing up at him. “I think so,” she answers. “You gotta take me to Sutton’s, remember?” 

He glances at her with that boyish grin as he adds some paprika. “I haven’t forgotten,” he murmurs, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was relieved that she remembered their conversation about Sutton’s, too. 

Another sneaky date to look forward to.

*****

“This is fucking delicious,” Rafe mumbles after swallowing a bite, using a napkin to wipe at his mouth as his wide-eyed gaze meets Isla’s. 

She grins behind her napkin, swallowing her own mouthful of taco. “No need to sound so surprised,” she says teasingly. “I do work at a restaurant, y’know.”

He lets out a short laugh, going in for another bite. “Yes, ma’am.”

Isla chuckles, taking a sip from the can of Pepsi as she looks out at the water overlooking the outdoor patio of the restaurant. It glitters under the moonlight, a sort of replica from their first date at the Cameron house, but this time on Isla’s turf. The candle in the glass holder flickers between them on the table, her hair out of its bun and falling down her shoulders in waves, the breeze dancing through the strands.

Her phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message from Kie. 

From: Kie🐬

soooo they’re playing a double feature, so i won’t be home until like 1 or 2, depending if Cleo and i get something to eat after

Isla’s eyebrows flick up, feeling Rafe’s gaze on her as she texts her sister back.

Isla:

all good, have fun!!!

“Kie’s not gonna be home until late,” Isla tells Rafe casually, tongue poking her cheek as she leans back in the chair, gaze lifting from her phone to meet Rafe’s.

His own gaze drops to her phone. “Oh yeah?” he asks as his eyes slowly meet hers once more.

The look in his eyes makes her stomach flutter, even if she put it there purposefully. But she can’t help it; she’s been imagining doing more than just kissing. The guy is a hell of a kisser, no doubt, and every time he touches her, Isla is sure her skin is going to alight with fire. In just those moments they have shared so far, Isla’s body reacts to Rafe in a way it has never done with anyone else, and she’s desperate to see how far that feeling, that sensation, goes.

Judging by the look in his eyes, she knows he is, too, and it only further intensifies the butterflies in her stomach. “Mhm,” she hums in reply, the corner of her mouth ticking up as she tilts her head to the side. “How about a change of scenery?”

Rafe’s eyes flicker over her face, like he’s searching her for any hesitancy, but Isla has never been more sure of anything. This thing with Rafe—this relationship—came quickly despite Isla’s initial hesitancy to even acknowledge her feelings. But now that she knows exactly how she feels for Rafe, knowing he feels the same, and acknowledging the way her body reacts whenever he just looks at her, Isla doesn’t want to pump the brakes to take things further.

He smiles, then. Charming and boyish as he tilts his head to the side. “I’m following your lead.”

Those four words are how, about twenty minutes later, Isla is pulling into the driveway of her house, eyebrows furrowing at her rearview mirror when she doesn’t see Rafe pull up on his bike behind her. “Where the hell is he?” she mumbles to herself as she kills the engine and hops out, shutting the door behind her and hiking her bag on her shoulder as she walks to the back of her car.

The automatic porch lights are on, as well as some of the sconces along the fence, so it’s not totally dark as she approaches the street, looking for Rafe. She spots him a second later, walking up the sidewalk towards her, and she lets out a confused chuckle as she asks, “What’re you doing? Where’d you park?”

“A couple blocks down,” he answers, gesturing with his head over his shoulder. “Just in case Kiara showed up early and saw my bike in your driveway,” he adds as he nears where Isla waits for him. Rafe comes to a stop in front of her, towering over her, as that slow smile curves his mouth. “That would’ve been fun to explain.”

Isla lets out a gentle laugh, her hand reaching for Rafe’s and her cheeks warm when he instantly intertwines their fingers together. “Come on,” she says, tugging him forward and leading him back to her house, welcoming the flurry of butterflies tickling her stomach.

The house is quiet, of course, when they enter, the only sound coming from her keys jingling together as she flicks on the floor lamp while Rafe locks the door behind them. When she turns to look at him, her stomach flips when she catches his blue eyes curiously wandering around the house as he slowly makes his way over to the long table along the wall that displays several picture frames. 

As she wanders over to him, Rafe muses, “You’ve always been shorter than Kie, huh?”

Isla huffs out a laugh as she stands next to him, looking at the pictures. Most of them are of Isla and Kie throughout many ages; because they’re Irish twins, their mom often dressed them up in matching outfits when they were younger, only difference being in color. They also looked quite alike as kids, though Kie always towered over her, and at this point, the differences in their features is prominent. 

“Yeah, Kie got Dad’s height and I got Mom’s,” Isla says, smiling. Her favorite picture of her and Kie is of the two of them mid-jump on the trampoline they used to have in the backyard, now long gone. They were eight and nine years old, wide grins on their faces, hair flying around them and hands up in the air.

She watches Rafe pick up a frame of Isla’s first grade yearbook picture, grinning widely to show off her dimples as well as the top two missing front teeth. Her gaze lifts to see Rafe smiling at the photo, soft and fond, making her cheeks warm as he murmurs, “Adorable.”

Isla rolls her smiling lips into her mouth, chin dipping in mild embarrassment. “If I knew you’d come here to look at all my baby pictures, I would’ve thought this through some more.”

Rafe chuckles under his breath, putting the frame down. “And why, exactly, did you bring me here?” he slowly drawls as he turns to face Isla.

She catches the knowing smirk that dances on the edge of his mouth, the kind that makes those butterflies in her stomach go into overdrive and heat curl low in her abdomen. The delicious kind of tension sparks between them, the breath hitching in Isla’s throat when Rafe’s hand settles on her hip for a brief second before his arm slowly slides around her bare waist as he steps towards her, effectively closing the gap between them as he looks down at her expectantly.

Her hand slides up his chest, the heat of his hand pressing to the small of her back, skin against skin because of her crop top, as she murmurs, “If you don’t know then I guess I haven’t been as obvious about it as I thought.”

His cologne wraps around her, her skin warming with their proximity as she watches the way his darkening blue eyes dip to her lips, which part under his intense stare. Rafe’s head dips, nose brushing along hers that sends electricity shooting throughout her body in an immediate, primal response.

Isla feels Rafe’s hand slide down from her back until he is cupping her ass through her denim shorts, heart stuttering when he squeezes. Desire mounts, throat drying with need as only inches of space remains between her lips and Rafe’s, every breath they take bringing them teasingly closer and frustratingly apart.

“Maybe try one more time,” Rafe says quietly, every word making his lips brush against hers, those electric sparks slowly growing into lightning strikes.

Isla leans into him, her pulse pounding in her ears and breathing already beginning to grow shallow as she is suddenly fueled by a surge of confidence and says, “My room’s upstairs.” Her bottom lip lightly drags along his. “Let’s go.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, as though he’s trying to keep his own feelings, his wants, at bay. Isla watches him through lust-laden hooded eyes, wanting to know what it’d be like to see him lose control in this way. Kissing her and touching her in the way that he has so far is one thing, but Isla wants more. And if this guy is as good in bed as he is in kissing, then Isla would be in for a good, thrilling time.

His throat bobs once before he says lowly, “Lead the way.”

Her gaze meets his, immediately seeing the want and intention in his eyes, and as Isla’s pulse beats wildly, she takes Rafe’s hand in hers and takes a few steps back, pulling him along. Despite wanting to practically sprint upstairs, Isla teasingly moves slowly, gaze on him as she moves backwards, waiting to see how long it will take for Rafe’s resolve to snap.

They’re only halfway up the stairs when it does.

A low growl escapes him, and a startled—yet delighted—gasp escapes Isla when Rafe uses his grip on her hand to tug her closer. For a split second, Isla worries she’s going to trip down the stairs, but she should know better with Rafe. He immediately picks her up, muffling her squeal of surprise with a searing kiss as her legs instinctively wrap around Rafe’s hips, his hands gripping the back of her thighs as he carries her up the rest of the way. Isla’s own hands cup his cheeks, head tilting as she greedily deepens the kiss, moaning as her tongue slides along and tastes his.

“Which door?” Rafe grunts into the kiss and, through her lust filled haze, Isla realizes they’ve reached the top.

“Right hallway. Second door on the left,” Isla pants against him, reveling in the hard frame of his body against hers as her heart threatens to burst out of her chest when he walks.

He blindly makes his way, following Isla’s directions, and if Isla wasn’t too busy being totally lost in the kiss, she’d be impressed that he hasn’t tripped over or bumped into anything, having never been here before. In the dark, no less. But Rafe gets them to her bedroom, their kiss slowing as Rafe carefully lowers her and turns them until Isla’s back is pressed to the closed bedroom door, her body trapped between that and Rafe’s body.

She feels his hands slide to her bare waist, his touch igniting a fire just like his kisses, until the kiss slows until they’re pulling back ever so slightly to catch their breaths. Isla’s heart thunders wildly, hands on Rafe’s shoulders as her eyes flutter open to look at him with heavy lidded eyes. Her bedroom is dark, the only light coming through the windows between parted curtains, moonlight and the lamps in the backyard glowing into the room. It highlights Rafe’s silhouette, standing before her like some angel, and it does nothing to calm her racing pulse as Rafe cups her cheek, his thumb stroking her bottom lip.

Isla sees the subtle hesitance in his blue eyes that seem to be searching hers. She understands why when he gruffly asks, “You sure you want this?”

They’ve already crossed a line, Isla knows. But there’s also this acknowledgement that if they go through with this, then there really is no going back. And while that idea should have filled Isla with some kind of hesitation of her own, maybe double check if, in the long run, this was a good idea. But Isla doesn’t want to think. All she wants is the man in front of her, a truth she can no longer deny herself. She won’t let Rafe deny it, either. Come hell or highwater.

No matter what they may have to deal with in the future with her friends, they will do it together. Isla is sure of it.

To prove as much to Rafe, she doesn’t answer him verbally. Instead, Isla locks gazes with him and presses a hand to his chest and applies some pressure, forcing him to take a step back. She sees the disappointment—and understanding—flicker in his eyes, and she knows he thinks that she has changed her mind. Isla gently bites down on her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling too much, gripping the hem of her crop top before effortlessly pulling it over her head.

Her hair falls messily around her shoulders, but she doesn’t miss the way Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up, or the way his darkened gaze drinks in the sight of her in her lacy baby pink bra. Her layered necklaces remain displayed around her neck, body tingling when Rafe’s gaze dips to explore the newly exposed skin as, with a crazed pulse, Isla’s fingers find the button and zip of her shorts and she undoes those, too. A few seconds later, she stands in nothing but her bra and matching underwear, jewelry gleaming in the dark and blood rushing at the way Rafe looks at her.

She is rarely this bold, but something about Rafe spurs her, gives her a much needed push. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes as he takes her in that fuels her confidence, staring at her as though he is hopeless to look away. Just his stare alone has her wanting to clench her thighs together, wetness pooling in her underwear. It’s slightly cold in her room as the summer breeze flows into her room through the open windows, the curtains dancing in response, but Isla is hot in Rafe’s proximity, with the anticipation and hope for what’s to come next.

Isla takes in a silent breath when Rafe steps towards her, slow and deliberate, his own eyes darkened with lust as he meets her gaze. She lifts her chin and asks, “Do you need more convincing?”

Rafe is never one to back down from a challenge of any kind, Isla knows. Which is why she has to bite back a grin when Rafe closes the distance between them upon hearing her words, his hand gripping the back of her head and crushing his lips to hers. All bets are off after that.

Isla’s hands immediately fist the front of his shirt, easily parting her lips under his to greet his tongue with hers once more, reveling in the groan rumbles low in his throat as his warm hands grip her hips and he turns her, moving her backward toward her bed. When the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, Rafe pushes her down and Isla happily pulls him down with her, still kissing him and loving the feel of his body, fully clothed, on top of her.

Her fingers thread through his hair as his lean, muscular body slots between her legs perfectly, Rafe’s fingers teasing the band of her underwear as he kisses the air out of her lungs. Isla gasps when he trails kisses down her jaw, her head tilting back into the mattress as he sucks on that spot in her neck, her grip on his hair tightening and moaning when he uses his teeth to gently bite, tongue to soothe. His hand slides from her hip to between her legs, and a whimper escapes Isla when he brushes his knuckles along the flimsy, damp cloth covering her pussy, her hips jerking with need.

“Rafe, please—” she says breathily, eyelashes fluttering at the ceiling when she is sure what she is feeling is Rafe’s finger hooking around the middle of her underwear that covers her. Then there’s the deliciously tight, stinging sensation of the fabric suddenly growing taut, thinning until it’s pressing sharply between her pussy lips, and her mouth drops open in a silent moan when she feels the wicked sensation of Rafe’s tongue licking up the center through the stringed cloth.

Oh, God. Her fingers remain in his hair, holding him right where she needs him. Stars already begin to dot behind Isla’s closed lids, heart pounding in her chest and head as Rafe’s tongue teasingly flickers, one hand pushing her thighs further apart. “How about it, Isla?” Rafe asks, his gruff voice making goosebumps break across her skin. She barely manages to open her eyes enough to look at him, to see him watching her with those eyes from between her legs, the sliver of moonlight bathing him just so to make his eyes glow silver. “Gonna let me have a proper taste?”

He is somehow her angel and all of her wicked fantasies come to life as she all but begs, “Please.”

She never thought she’d beg Rafe Cameron for anything, but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about it.

Not when the corner of his mouth curls up into a smirk before he gives a tug to her underwear, pulling it down and moving her legs to the side to tug the flimsy material off, before Rafe wraps each arm around her thigh and pulls Isla towards him. She hears the faint sound of his knees finding the carpeted floor, raising herself up on her elbows to catch the moment Rafe licks a strip up her center and Isla damn near trembles at the electric sensation.

With his arms binding around her thighs and hands gripping her hips, Rafe keeps her close, having her on the edge of the bed, and the air is sucked out of Isla’s lungs as Rafe’s mouth works against her. Distantly, she can’t believe this is happening, but presently, she is already sensitive, feeling every minute movement of his tongue. When Rafe’s tongue flicks against her clit, Isla’s back arches off the bed with a sound that’s a half cry, half gasp. It makes colors dot her closed eyelids, Rafe’s grip on her hips unforgiving as he keeps her in place, his mouth continuing its delicious assault as he licks at her like a man starved.

Isla’s own fingers remain in his hair, keeping him close, her heart thundering so harshly it deafens her to anything else. “I fucking knew it,” Rafe growls against her, pulling away enough to brush a kiss against her inner thigh.

“Knew what?” Isla asks, panting, as she all but stops herself from demanding he keep doing what he was doing.

But Rafe doesn’t leave her hanging too much, his tongue teasing along her inner lips that has Isla moaning. “Knew you’d taste this good—better than I imagined,” he replies and then he sucks on her clit, and Isla can’t think of anything else but him and that sinful mouth.

“Oh, God, Rafe,” she moans, hips moving against him. She finds enough will power through her lusty haze to look down at him, stomach clenching at the sight of him eating her out—and so clearly enjoying it. Her head falls back against, gasping. “Please.”

She’s not entirely sure what she’s pleading for, but apparently Rafe does. “Greedy little thing,” he murmurs before Isla feels his finger sink into her opening, thrusting in and out in time with his tongue fucking her.

She can’t make sense of anything after that.

The combination of his finger and tongue electrify her from the inside out, her bedroom filled with the sounds of Isla’s moans, Rafe’s appreciative groans, and the crude sounds of his tongue lapping at her, bringing her closer and closer to that glorious edge. Then he does something with his tongue, curls his finger just the right way, and Isla is a goner.

Her climax hits like a tidal wave, white flashing across her closed lids and a sharp cry falling from her as her orgasm wracks through her body. Rafe doesn’t relent, licking her through it, taking everything she’s giving him. When her limbs become limp and eyelids heavy, trying to catch her breath, Rafe finally pulls away with one last kiss to her sensitive slit.

Isla’s eyes flutter open, breathing heavily as she watches Rafe stand at the end of the bed and begin to strip out of his clothes. Her already hyper pulse begins to race once more, not a moment of relief, with every inch of his skin that’s exposed as he rids of his shirt, and then his pants and boxer briefs in one go. Rafe’s darkened eyes look down at her still laying in bed, the desire clear in his face that it makes her skin flush even more as he runs his fingers through her hair.

Her gaze dips and the air hitches in her throat at the sight of his cock; hard and flushed at the tip, bigger than she expected. But it’s a mouth watering sight, and she’s not sure if she wants him in her mouth or her pussy first.

His lips gleam ever so slightly from his previous ministrations as Rafe slowly climbs back onto the bed, crawling over until he hovers above her. When their eyes meet, Rafe’s expression softens, looking at her in a way that makes Isla melt. She pushes up to kiss him, smiling when he instantly returns it, lips moving against hers as Isla reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and tosses it aside. 

Rafe’s hand slides up her side until he’s cupping her left breast, the feel of his large hand making her arch into his touch as the kiss deepens and he kneads her breast. “How is every part of you so perfect?” Rafe breathes into the kiss, his thumb flicking across her hardened nipple. “You drive me fucking crazy, Isla.”

“Good,” she murmurs, one hand in his hair. “Do something about it.”

“So bossy.” She can feel his smirk in his kiss before he pulls back slightly. “You got a condom?”

Isla arches an eyebrow up at him. “You don’t have one?”

Rafe snorts out a laugh. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t carry them around.”

Isla grins, cheeks pink. “Maybe you should.” She taps his shoulder. “Here.”

He pulls back to give her room to turn towards her bedside table, on her stomach and giggling when she feels Rafe’s hand lightly smack her ass as she pulls open the bottom drawer, digs blindly around for a second, and pulls out a condom. As Rafe puts it on after she hands it to him, Isla bites her bottom lip, the anticipation palpable as she pushes herself up to brush her lips against his.

“Can I ride you?” she asks, smirking slightly when she sees Rafe’s gaze tighten with desire.

She feels his hand slide to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he exhales sharply. “If I ever say no to that question, then I’d have officially lost my mind.”

Isla laughs breathily and Rafe, with an arm around her, turns them so he’s the one on his back, head at the pillows, and Isla bites back a grin as she straddles him and, with a thrumming heart, her hand wraps around his cock. Rafe’s hands settle on her thighs as Isla moves until she’s hovering right over his cock, and when she locks her gaze with his, his lips parted in anticipation as he gives her a single nod, she slowly sinks down.

Her own lips part and a sharp breath escapes her as she sinks lower and lower, unable to keep herself from moaning as Rafe’s cock stretches her until she is fully seated. And oh, God, it’s a feeling she has never experienced before, a beautiful sensation of completion that robs her of her breath. Rafe’s abs clench in response, making her involuntarily clench around him with a soft whimper.

Rafe’s fingers dig into her thighs, his head tipping back and exposing the strong column of his neck as he lets out a quiet groan through gritted teeth. Isla tries to catch her breath—hopelessly—as her eyes squeeze shut for a moment to gather her wits, to adjust to the size of him filling her up so Goddamn deliciously.

“Fuck, baby,” Rafe hisses, and that’s enough to get Isla to move as she lifts herself up, weight on her knees on the mattress and hands on his torso, the air expelling out of her lungs as she pulls up enough until just the head of his cock is brushing against her sensitive pussy. His grip on her hips tighten, but Rafe lets her have control, her eyes meeting his glazed ones as she sinks back down again, lungs tightening as she continues her movements to set a pace.

Already, Isla knows that Rafe has ruined her for anyone else. Up and down, up and down, she moves along his length, his touch burning and her skin on fire as he watches her, his blue eyes glued on the way his cock buries inside of her when she sits down before rising back up. “God, fuck,” Rafe grunts, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around Isla’s waist, their fronts pressing together.

The sudden press of his skin against hers has Isla’s lips parting and head tilting back, feeling one of Rafe’s hands threading through her hair and gripping tightly to keep her head tilted back. She somehow maintains her rhythm with the new press of his skin, his fingers in her hair and, all of a sudden, she feels his lips on her throat, kissing and licking as she bounces on his cock, the warmth between them easily increasing into an inferno. Distantly, she can barely make out the sound of her bed creaking beneath them under the sounds of her pants and Rafe’s groans.

“Come here, come here,” Rafe murmurs and a gasp of a giggle escapes Isla when he turns them until she’s on her back once more, his fingers brushing away her dark hair that had fallen over her face before leaning back, knees on the mattress and hooking her legs around his hips.

He looks like a god in the silver moonlight, a thin sheen of sweat glistening his chiseled muscles, dirty blonde hair messy from her fingers running through it. Isla’s already fiery skin heats up even more, if possible, under his intense gaze and she finds herself reaching forward, nails teasingly scraping down his muscled torso as she rasps, “Please.”

Any semblance of control Rafe still had snaps and, with a low growl that makes her clench around him, he sets an unforgiving, delicious pace. Isla is hopeless in keeping herself quiet, a combination of moans and Rafe’s name falling past her as he pounds into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling her room as she fists the comforter beneath her, while her other hand slides down to circle her clit. 

Her head spins, pulse crazed, as Rafe grips her hips, tight enough to leave bruises that she could admire in the morning light. Isla’s head tilts back, eyes rolling back and shutting as she gets lost in the stars that explode behind her eyes every time Rafe hits her in the perfect spot, and she needs something to give her some semblance of reality before she loses herself completely—though, not that she would complain. Still, Isla reaches for a pillow, bringing it next to her and turning her head into it, muffling her cries and moans into it.

But it’s short lived, because the pillow is snatched from her and she gasps in both surprise and at the way Rafe’s pace suddenly slows out of nowhere, rolling his hips to slowly slide into her. The next breath shudders out of her as Rafe moves over her, his nose brushing against hers and Isla wants to kiss him again as he murmurs, “I want to fucking hear you. No one’s home, baby. Let it out.”

He pulls all the way out, Isla clenching on nothing but air as a whimper leaves her at the emptiness, and through heavy lids she sees Rafe’s mouth curve into a breathless smirk. The tension in his jaw, his neck, tells her he’s holding himself back from burying into her once more as he gently moves her hand away so his own fingers can tease and circle her sensitive clit.

Isla arches into him, lips parted as Rafe’s teeth gently latch onto her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth just as he oh-so slowly slides back into her. The air is locked in her throat as Rafe growls, “Let me hear you.”

And then he pinches her clit and she can’t stay quiet even if she tries, her back arching off the bed with a sharp cry as her hand flies to the back of Rafe’s head, fingers tangling in his hair as he returns to his brutal, greedy pace. His name is a chant on her lips and Rafe hits that spot once again and it’s over for Isla right then and there.

Her second climax hits her blindingly, body shaking as it crashes over her like a tidal wave, Rafe’s thrusts unrelenting as she rides through it until she feels him tense up a moment later before he is also coming undone on top of her. They cling to each other like a lifeline, their breathing ragged yet still in time as Rafe collapses on top of her, Isla’s fingers in his hair as his body presses to her and she welcomes the weight of him.

Their bodies are slick with sweat, Isla staring dazedly and absently at the ceiling as she feels Rafe’s lips against her neck as he, too, catches his breath. Every hard, solid inch of him presses into her soft flesh, the feeling one Isla doesn’t think she will ever get used to—or get tired of. She’s sure Rafe can feel her thundering heart, just how she can feel his as they bask in the afterglow, catching their breaths.

Staring at the ceiling fan, Isla’s sluggish thoughts slowly catch up to her, but the one that is louder than the rest is I just slept with Rafe.

And it was mind-fucking-blowing.

Nothing else matters, nothing else is important in this moment as Isla tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, feeling herself smile and cheeks flush with a newfound heat. Her fingers continue to absently run through his hair, letting out a soft sigh through her silly smile, just as Rafe asks, “You doin’ okay?”

Her heart swells at his softly spoken question, breath hitching yet her smile remaining when she feels the tips of his fingers brushing up and down her side in a featherlight touch. “I’m great,” Isla answers truthfully, and maybe Rafe hears the smile in her voice because he lifts her head, resting his weight on his arm by her side as he gazes down at her with a searching look. As though he wants to double check, himself, that she means it.

The way Rafe watches her makes Isla feel exposed—more so than what they just did, which is amusing, as heat pools in her cheeks once more. There’s a pretty flush to Rafe’s cheeks, too, which makes her stomach flutter, as blue eyes drink in the sight of her. “Yeah?” he asks, his fingers retreating from his side to brush away strands of her hair from her cheek.

She looks into those eyes, like two pools rippling with a combination of emotions that tighten Isla’s throat. Later, there will be time for her to replay the night, to calculate and pick apart every single thing she has felt. But for now, Isla raises a hand so her fingers can gently play with his side bangs, the smile that tugs on her lips soft and genuine as she answers simply, “Yeah.”

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy, On Fire ༓ jjk (m) l ch. I

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,027

Warnings: jk is very cute and determined, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc is not mean here but she teases jk, feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: um ok I swear this was supposed to be a pwp crack fic about jk wanting to get laid with a hat on. This turned into a very angsty but fluffy series and I'm sorry 😬 lmk what you think and tysm for reading! 💞 I know title is sucky

ch. lI >> | series masterlist

Over the entirety of his nineteen years, Jungkook was pushed to prepare for one thing—college entrance exams.

It was a huge deal and getting into one of the leading universities in South Korea was a must for him. You see, the Jeons were nobody to laugh at with the bulk of them being high-ranking medical doctors, engineers, and lawyers. Continuing this legacy, therefore, was far from a choice, Jungkook had to follow suit.

When the results of the exams came back Jungkook passed with flying colors. It wasn't a surprise though since he spent all his time studying his ass off until the dawn. Jungkook indeed got accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in Seoul and his parents, teachers, and friends were quick to give their congratulations. He felt good too...no, he felt damn good.

Now he was here he was, standing in the middle of campus with his bag slung over one shoulder and a few orientation papers in his hand. It was still the first week of classes and he desperately needed to get to the science building. (He had chosen to follow his father's footsteps and go into biochem).

"Excuse me," he asks with nervous eyes and a wobbling lip. "Do you happen to know where the science building is? I'm late for class but I can't seem to find it."

The student he walks up to for directions looks about his age. He isn't sure if she's in her first year like him but she looks competent with the way she's standing, feet spread apart and a hand on her hip. The skirt she's sporting is incredibly short but the top is full length. She's smacking on hot pink gum as well, popping bubbles every now and then.

"Keep walking straight until you see the statue of President Kim, then take a right. The science building will be right there." You hardly spare him a glance but you make the mental note that he's cute with his fluffy black hair and big lost eyes. You consider asking his name but you shrug the feeling. He was cute yes, but he was too cute which isn't your type.

Jungkook gives a small thank you and walks off. Your directions are vague, but hopefully finding the statue will help him. After a few steps, he looks over his shoulder to see you laughing with your friend.

You have a gorgeous smile.

Probably the last time he'll see you though, he thinks. Jungkook isn't sure how he'd be with a woman given the fact he's never been with one. Surely he'd do better than half the dumbasses out there but guys like him don't stand a chance with a woman like you.

You look like you go for the experienced type and that wasn't him. He goes back to what he was doing, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hey man, what's your name?" A young guy with bleached blonde hair slides into the seat next to him. Apparently, he wasn't the only one late. "I'm Jackson." The man goes in for a fist bump but stops when it's very obvious it won't be reciprocated.

"I'm Jungkook," he says, more concentrated on what his professor is saying than anything else. Jackson continues talking, however, despite his focused state.

"So, I'm assuming this is your first year?" Jungkook nods. "Me too. Where you from?"

"Busan."

"Cool cool, I'm from Hong Kong." Hearing this makes Jungkook shift his eyes over immediately. The last thing he expected was to meet someone from China. Was this Jackson dude just pulling his leg or was he being serious? Nevertheless, it intrigues him.

"I'm an exchange student." Jackson clarifies. "Always wanted to see what South Korea was like and I know Seoul's got a pretty thriving economy so..." He shrugs. "Figured I'd give it a go and my parents support it. As long as I stay on my doctor's track of course."

Well damn. A doctor was not what Jungkook assumed a guy like Jackson would be going for. This was a prestigious school but it's still a gen ed class they're in right now. Anyone from most majors could be taking it. If he had to guess, Jackson would be a businessman.

"Well enough about me though," Jackson quips. "What do you study?"

"Biochem. My dad works as a physician and my mom's a chemical engineer. I'm going for pharmacology."

"Shit bro," Jackson cusses freely. Jungkook doesn't mean to jump in response but he does. Being all formal talk at home, it's unventured territory. "You guys must be a family of geniuses. Wait...what's your last name?"

"Jeon?"

Jackson nearly falls back in his chair when he hears the name fall from Jungkook's lips. He covers his mouth with both hands to keep himself under wraps. "Are you serious? You're from the Jeon family? Fuck, man, I've been hearing about your family since I was a kid that's how influential your family has been in the medical industry."

Jungkook finds himself intertwining his hands. His family is well-established in what they do but it never occurred to him that they were that well-known. Sure his dad's been featured in a couple of magazines for his work and his mom's been given several awards for her research. But he didn't think they'd gone that publicly beyond their own town.

"Oh shit I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable talking about this? Promise you I'm not a creep or anything!" The urgency in Jackson's tone stirs up the classroom, peers looking over at the two of them in annoyance.

"Do you mind shutting up?" A chestnut-haired boy is the first to speak up. He looks thoroughly pissed, to say the least with his cat-like eyes narrowing at the both of them. "Some of us actually want to graduate here."

"Chill out man. We're sorry." Jackson gives Jungkook a small tight-lipped smile. "We'll talk later."

"We will?"

Jackson gives him a slap on the back. "Yeah it's a given. You and I," he gestures between the two of them. "We should stick together. Being that we're both new around here and we both studying med. Also, was going to wait to tell you but I wanna go to this awesome party that goes on that kicks off the year. You'd think I'd be confident to go by myself but if you're free, I could use a buddy."

A party. Some blonde-haired boy who could very likely become the center of attention wants him, Jeon Jungkook, to go to a party? Jungkook spends most of his time playing video games, studying chem tables, and watching p—well he shouldn't say that part out loud.

"If you don't want to then I get it." Jackson scratches his head. "I don't wanna pressure you or anything. We did just meet and I just thought you looked cool so...."

"Okay." Jungkook accepts before giving it much thought. Besides studying, he was told college was a time to also let loose and have fun. Freedom and all that. That's what his friends back home told him at least. They also mentioned getting laid but...who would give him that fat chance?

If anything, maybe he'll get a friend by going to this little party. Jungkook shoots a small smile in return.

"Okay listen," Jackson says, opening the door to his black Lexus. "I heard this party gets crazy so just be smart and don't get into too much punch."

Jungkook hops in the passenger seat. "But I love punch." He straps his seatbelt in, totally unaware of the punch Jackson"s referring to.

"It's spiked Kook. And I'm guessing your alcohol tolerance is pretty low?" Jackson twists the key and pulls out of the campus parking lot. He doesn't mean to be insulting or anything but his new buddy doesn't look like the party-hardy kinda guy.

In fact, Jungkook decided to....well, wear a hat to this gig. It's not a baseball cap, beanie, or even a greasy cowboy hat.

It's a sunhat. Black at least.

"By the way Jungkook. I don't wanna sound like a dick or anything but can you explain the thing on your head? Because the rest of you looks great, black dress shirt and jeans."

"Oh um." Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs. He's embarrassed to tell Jackson the truth but he's his buddy now, right? Maybe this can be a bonding thing for them. "I thought it was cute? I mean I wanna...ah." Jungkook lets out a nervous chuckle.

"What is it, man? I promise I won't judge."

"I wanna," he starts again. "Uhm you see I heard that if you wear something out of the ordinary that people will like you more or something. Like they'll be interested..."

"Mhm, cute and out of the ordinary things huh? What kind of people are you trying to impress Jungkook?" Jackson gives a knowing smirk. Who knew his buddy schemes these kinds of stuff.

Jungkook speeds through the answer. "Grs."

"Say it properly and slower."

"Wanna get a girl....woman! I mean...a woman." Jungkook sheepishly grins at Jackson. Please don't laugh at me, he begs silently.

"You dog!" Jackson pushes Jungkook's shoulder. "My little buddy is a man, well well well. So are you looking for a girlfriend or something else?"

"Wife!" Jungkook bugs out his eyes, no hesitation at all. Jackson struggles not to give even the slightest snort. Didn't Jungkook know what kind of party this is?

"That's very sweet but this isn't the place you're going to find a wife, Jungkook. That's more like if we were going to a speed dating thing....this, this is a frat party, little bro."

Jackson pulls up to the front of the giant, lit-up house. They could hear electronic music blasting outside and all over the lawn were shirtless guys and scantily-dressed women. Some were off making out while others were drinking in groups.

Jungkook tenses at the sight. He used to fancy black tie parties where everyone is dressed to the hill and drinking is moderate. Jackson is right, he is not finding a wife here. Dammit. But he really doesn't want to give up his hat.

"Yo Jackson," a guy with pitch-black hair greets the man with a fist bump. So that's how it's done, Jungkook observes. "Glad you could make it!"

"Jae-beom, what's good man?! I wouldn't miss this party for the world. I brought a friend." He ushers Jungkook to come forward. "This is Jungkook. He's in my class."

"Nice to meet you Jungkook!" Jae-beom moves in for a fist bump which ends up making contact with Jungkook's fist. It's not as sharp as with Jackson but it's a fist bump. "I used to work with Jackson over the summer. Always stealing my tips this man!"

"Hey, I did not do that!" Jackson gives a hearty laugh and shoves Jae-beom hard enough for him to lose his balance a little. "You kept leaving for a smoke. I had to wait your tables half the time!"

"I wasn't going for a smoke Jack—woah hey baby. What's your name?" The man shifts his focus to the girl walking past them. She has bright red lipstick, a black crop top, and jean shorts.

"Fuck off." She snaps before looking at Jungkook. "Cute hat by the way."

Everyone looks at Jungkook at that moment who's motionless. They hope to god he says something back but he only stares. The girl smirks at him and quirks her head to the side. "What's your name? I gotta friend who'd be all over you in a heartbeat, though she'd never admit it."

Jackson throws a mouth over his hand, eyes wide in amusement. This girl did not just propose Jungkook, his buddy who's looking for a wife, to get off with her friend.

"Um...yeah no. No, it's okay but thanks." Jungkook can barely sound the words. This girl in front of him was really, really hot but intimidating. "Yes thank you but I'm looking for a..."

"Don't-" Jackson lunges forward.

"Wife." Jungkook smiles at the girl a little too angelically. "I'm Jungkook though. What's your name?"

The girl bites her lip. "Well, it's too bad then Jungkook. Because you're so fucking cute and I know you'd like each other. Why don't you meet her? Even if it's just to say hi?"

Jungkook looks at Jackson who only shrugs. "Up to you man."

Jungkook makes his way through the heavy crowd. He bumps into a few people on the way but thankfully he's able to still see the girl, apparently who goes by Crystal.

Jungkook isn't convinced it's her real name but if that's what she wants to be called who is he to dispute?

Once they get to the other side of the room, Jungkook spots a woman with a tight black dress on. It falls mid-thigh and has laced-up sides. When they near the woman Jungkook feels himself sweating bullets.

"__!" Crystal taps on your shoulder. "I brought you, someone, to meet. This is Jungkook!"

You turn around, drink in hand. You look fucking stunning. Jungkook can't believe it's you. He's seeing you again and he wishes he didn't wear this damn hat now! He goes to yank it off but Crystal stops him.

"Hey, the hat's cute. Keep it on!"

"I-but," he looks at you. "But it's making me hot." You're making me hot.

You give a shrug. "Do what you want Jungkook. It's your head at stake." You take a sip of your drink. You really did not expect to see the shy guy from this morning be at a frat party. "Good to see you again."

"Oh, you know each other?"

"We had a slight run in this morning. Baby had to get to the science building." You take a scan at what he's wearing. Black shirt that cuts at the elbows, denim jeans, and sneakers. Not bad compared to the sweater he was wearing this morning.

"I'm—I'm not a baby." Jungkook can't stop himself from feeling offended. Whether you meant it to be condescending or not, he doesn't want to be seen as a baby! Especially not to you. "I'm a man, okay? I go to the gym and stuff."

"Okay I'm sorry," you say. "I just call everyone baby. I didn't mean anything."

That doesn't seem to relax Jungkook. "I can lift a fuck ton of weights too." He stops once he hears himself cuss out loud. Usually, he does that in his head....goddamn it.

"Mmm," you step towards him, careful not to touch him. Usually by now you'd already be in the bathroom getting railed by some punk but not tonight. Jungkook has your attention. "Can you now? I'm not sure if I believe you. You're kind of a twig, not to be rude or anything."

Jungkook's face turns to a darker shade, eyes piercing into yours. "I can show you I'm not lying."

"Go ahead, do what you will." You fake a yawn until you find yourself suddenly in his arms. They're a lot stronger and more muscular than you thought. "Jungkook! Put me down!"

Everyone at the party starts staring over, giggling at each other. Jungkook gives a satisfied grin. "I have you in my arms, what are you gonna do now? Not believe me again?"

"I-" You're certain your face glowing with embarrassment. "Um no, I believe you Jungkook. Please, set me down."

"Not til you say it --." He challenges-brat. "Say I'm not a baby."

"Jungkook I told you I call everyone baby. It wasn't-okay you're not a baby. Obviously, you lift a lot now please put me down."

Finally, he does what you ask, a proud face on. His hat is a little crooked so you reach out and fix it. It's a reflexive response, you don't even know what you're doing let alone Jungkook.

"Oh, sorry your hat was just-"

"Please go out with me. On a date I mean?" He's so terribly timid but he can't help himself now. He had you in his arms and you're just so beautiful and charming. He needs to know more about you. It's a must.

"Well, I-" Everyone waits for your answer, very nosy clearly. You look at Jungkook with his big eyes and pouty lips. You don't wanna say no but relationships aren't your thing. And it seems that is defiantly all he's in for.

Jungkook's shoulders sulk. He isn't expecting a yes but he was hoping that maybe you'd give him a tiny chance.

"Come on __," Crystal whispers. "Look at him. Don't you think he's cute? Like really cute?"

You look at your best friend with weary eyes. He's so cute but, there's that but. That relationship but. He's going to be the type to want to do all the couple things and snuggle and everything. Jungkook needs someone who is willing to do all the stuff and you? You're not good at any of it.

"I'm sorry Jungkook," you start. "I don't know if-"

"One date __. If it's a no I won't bother you again. I just....I just think you're really gorgeous and I wanna get to know you. That's all." He takes the hat off his head, letting his fluffy hair run free. You kinda wanna touch it if it didn't makes things weird.

His words, however, make your heart thump the tiniest amount. The only time you've ever been called gorgeous is when guys try to get in your bed. It's all you've known other than maybe from a relative. Gorgeous is used pretty regularly, you know that, but this time it's used in an entirely different context.

"I'll tell you what," he says, pulling out his phone. "I'll give you my number and if you change your mind text me or call. I won't bug you and you can delete it right after this if you want, I promise."

You end up taking his number and Jungkook leaves to go back to his buddies. "You should go out with him __," Crystal says.

"I don't know." You watch him stride away. "I'll think about it."

A/N: what am i doing? Idk im running away now bye! lmk what you think and tysm for reading! Comment/ask to be on taglist 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[phoenix-writer2]

lipstick love

mastelist

synopsis: Percy loves red on you, especially on your lips.

College!Au

pairing: Percy Jackson x fem!reader daughter of Dionysus

warnings: fluff, kissing, lipstick, Percy being Percy, make out (but no smut), love, no prof reading, writing on phone because my laptop died two days ago, if I forgot anything say it

Note: I love lipstick and Percy Jackson. So I thought I this could be good. Enjoy it♥️

Word Count: 1004

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Everyone knew that Percy Jackson's favourite colour was blue. If you asked one of his college mates or a complete stranger from his school, everyone knew the answer. But what nobody knew was that Percy also liked another colour. One that he had only discovered for himself a few years ago. And this time it had nothing to do with the sea, Sally's freshly baked biscuits or the colour blue in general.

Quite the opposite. The colour red was very different from blue. While blue was like the peaceful ocean, red was like a blazing fire. And the reason for this fire was none other than you. You who made Percy's world glow. You who gave him a reason to strive. Not to save the world, not to please the gods, no, just to be with you, to make you proud. And if he was really honest with himself, he would bring Olympus to his knees for you.

There were two sides of Percy. The one where he chased after you like a lost puppy and tried everything to get your attention by constantly saying your name and turning his sea green eyes into puppy eyes, the side where he brought you sweets and treats for no reason, and the one where he was sarcastic and cheeky. The side where he showed off your relationship, kissed you and pretended there wasn't a whole class watching. Whichever side of him it was, Percy didn't care what the people around him thought.

Red was a colour for him, which reminds him of you. He always says "I love this colour" whenever you wear it. But what he loved the most, was the red on your lips. He loved to smear the red and leave his marks behind. Loved to see your reaction after he was done painting his lips and your neck in red. He just adored the sign.

"Hey Darling, can you give me hairbrush?"

Percy was shaken out of his throughs. Your voice was like musik in his ears. Angels melody in the air. He was standing at the kitchen counter, when you came in, preparing a bowl of cereal.

You were dressed in a high waist baggy jeans and a black crop top. Your hair was messy and Percy knew you just had awaken from your nap. He looked to his right and saw the wooden hair brush laying there.

"Sure love"

He grabber it and tossed it to you. The objective almost hitting you on the head when you were still to sleepy to realize that it was flying toward you. But lucky enough did you catch it before you got a red hit mark on your forehead.

"So" asked Percy as he watched you how you tamed your hair. "Where are you going at this time?"

You pulled out a mini mirror from your pocket and an all too familiar red lipstick. You always wear it, so it had become your trademark. No y/n without red lips. Which, if Percy was completely honest, delighted him.

"Just to Annabeth", you mumble as you apply the red color to your lips. Percy watched enchanted as the color stuck to your lips. As if on automatic, he pushed himself away from the counter where he had been standing eating cereal and made his way to you.

You saw in your mirror only you and nothing else, so you didn't notice at first when Percy did get in front of you. While you were completely concentrated not to mess up your lips, Percy did get in front of you. He was a bit taller than you, around 3 inches. You didn't mind that because you liked to look in his see green eyes when looking up. Still concentrated on your lips, Percy took the little flip mirror and closed it. Now your attention was on him and only him and this made him happy.

You lowered your lipstick and put it back in your pocket to look at him. Your boyfriend had this shit eating grin on his lips as he looked at you with adoring eyes. You sighed.

"Darling", you began, but his lips were already on yours. The taste of see and salt stayed on your lips and a contented sigh escaped you as your arms wrapped around his neck and played with Percy's messy hair. Percy, as cheeky as he was, had made it his goal to spread your lipstick. Not just on your lips, but on his and your neck too. So when he moved his slightly chapped lips against yours, he transferred the red color to his lips.

His hands rested on your hips as he pulled you up and settled you on the counter of the kitchen. Your sweet sense overwhelmed him as he detached his lips from yours. You little disapproving noise escapes you and Percy smirked. He lowered his lips again, but this time on your neck. You sucked a breath as he began to spread the lipstick.

"Damn you Perseus Jackson, what would Dad say?"

Percy smirked against your skin. "Mr. D? He would turn me into a dolphin for touching you and kill me for making out with his only daughter."

That was no lie. Dionysus was short lived as he found out you and Perseus Jackson or, what he liked to call him Perry Johnson, were dating. Percy literally had to run from the god, while you calmed your father down.

While Percy picked your skin with kisses, you looked at the clock on the wall of your college department.

"Percy", you whispered. "I have to go"

With a little pout he take if from you, but the sign was it worth. All over your skin were lipstick marks from him. "Let's see what wise girl has to say to that", he smirked and pointed at the marks. You rummaging through your bag to find your mirror to see how bad it was. A goan escaped you when you saw the work Percy was very proud of.

"You're impossible", you scolded. Percy grinned again. "But you love me." you sigh again before smiling. "Yea I love you."

And with that your lips were on his again. Maybe Annabeth had to wait a little bit, bevor you showed up. But she already knew that because she knew Percy Jackson. So she waited without a care in the world and a book in her hands until Percy was satisfied with his lipstick smearing, which he called lipstick love.

Don't copy my work!

[scromchz]

v for vendetta | elw (m.)

— your boss has seemingly had it out for you since day one.

contents. mean boss!ellie williams/intern!reader | smut, fluff | 3.1k

warnings. kinda loser!ellie, jelly ellie, cursing, mdni - smut, fingering, mild spit kink.

note. a reupload from prev blog with same name, with some edits. its a wee bit cringe to me so be prepared. but people seemed to like it so enjoy and happy pride month <3

© scromchz 2023 — all rights reserved.

Getting your foot into the corporate world was never going to be easy. You knew this before you even applied for the summer internship at the DarkHorse Tech conglomerate, well aware that you'd have to claw your way up from rock bottom without so much as chipping a manicured nail. But you were optimistic; freshly graduated from college, and ready to take the challenge head-on.

That was before you met Ellie Williams.

Boss to the company, and your personal tormenter. She made hell seem like a cozy vacation spot.

What you did to get under her skin was a mystery. Hell, you didn't even report to her directly. There were at least three meat shields between you and her within the hierarchy. But somewhere, somehow, you blipped onto her radar, and you have stayed there like a bad stain ever since.

She made your work life an agonizing affair, and nothing you ever did seem to please her. If anything it had the opposite effect. Paperwork you'd spent hours agonizing over was always a 'complete mess', and she'd keep you after hours in her office to belittle you without ever correcting any so-called mistakes.

She shoulder-checked you in the hallway and picked apart your appearance when nobody was around. It didn't matter if you were wearing a grandma sweater and a floor-length, shapeless skirt. She threatened to write you up for a dress code violation like you showed up in your birthday suit for casual Fridays.

You were sent on wild goose chases disguised as coffee runs to places that didn't even exist, then berated for arriving late and empty-handed. Or god forbid, with Starbucks. You were supposed to be doing data entry, for fucks sake. And if you were to so much as smile at one of your coworkers she would pop out of nowhere to tell you off for slacking, like a damn high-school hall monitor.

Anytime you tried to voice your grievances to your manager, they'd give you a sympathetic smile. What she says goes, they'd awkwardly relay, she's the boss. 

There was nothing you could do. She wielded all the power and flaunted it outright. During the mandatory bullying and harassment presentation she even singled you out, asking by name if you had any questions or if there was anything you 'didn't understand'. Message received. 

Today was no different.

She'd sent a pristine pile of cardstock flying out of your hands and onto the floor, tsking at you for being clumsy when she'd purposefully swiped at them. You had to get on your knees and meticulously pick up each one, all the while she loomed over you, a smug smile on her annoyingly perfect face.

Of course, you had to sacrifice your break to grab Ellie her own lunch from across town. While your coworkers got to enjoy their downtime in the breakroom you'd seen the inside of twice. You were exhausted, dropping her food off at her desk while she pretended you weren't there, but you couldn't even be bothered to care. That's not to say you didn't feel her eyes burning into your backside when you left.

What you didn't see was the furrow in her brows, concern lacing her heated gaze when she saw you were empty-handed. She knew for a fact she told you to get something for yourself when she handed over her card. Strike number one of the day. Not taking care of yourself was unacceptable. 

She kept a close eye on you through her one-way office window, which was easy considering she had your desk moved directly into her line of sight. You were hunched over your desk, periodically wiping at your tired eyes to keep focused.

Then your shit-stick fellow interns had the gall to shirk their duties onto you. Like rolling around in daddy's money made them incapable of using a fax machine. And you, sweet, sweet you, had the nerve to weakly smile and say no problem. Ellie's eyes narrowed, aggressively chewing on her straw like an angry gremlin. Oh, there's a fucking problem all right. Strike number two.

As the clock neared five-thirty, you were nearly home free. If only office fuckboy extraordinaire hadn't waltzed over to you. What happened next made Ellie see red.

He made you blush. Oh, hell no.

Faster than you could kindly reject Brad's offer to take you out, the door to Ellie's office swung open. The force smacked it harshly into the adjoining wall.

She dismissed everyone for the day, and in the same breath barked out your name. "In my office," her tone left no room for disagreements. "Now."

Brad sucked in his teeth, offering a 'good luck' before high tailing it out of there along with the rest of the office. You could already hear whispers of your name, musings of what you did this time to warrant such an explosive reaction. Nobody envied you.

With shaky limbs, you stood, cowering under the weight of her glare. She held open the door, forcing you to brush against her suit-clad chest. The click of the lock sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded. But clicked her tongue when you slid into your usual seat in front of her desk. "No, not there."

You looked around in confusion, thinking you'd misheard her over your thunderous heartbeat. She looked expectant. Not to mention pissed.

But a cursory scan of the room confirms your thoughts. There were no chairs besides Ellie's, and the one you occupied.

You were used to her outlandish demands, but this was a whole new level. She was being difficult just to be difficult. Did she expect you to sit criss-cross apple sauce at her feet?

You pause, reigning in your irritation. "I don't understand. Ms. Williams, is—“

Angling your neck in her direction, your speech falters. She's much closer than you anticipated. Leaning down, her face was mere inches from your own. Your cheeks heat, and you're momentarily struck by her looks from up close.

It pains you to admit it, after everything she's put you through. The very person who makes you dread waking up in the morning can make your tummy flutter at the same beat. She was good-looking, objectively speaking. With the whole freckle-faced, green-eyed thing going on. 

Plus she smelled good. Ugh.

Ellie's jaw clenches. "No. I don't think you do."

Before you can respond, probably with an unprofessional what the fuck, she's yanking you up out of your seat. You sputter, skin burning from the contact of her hand wrapped around your elbow. She uses it to maneuver you like a rag doll.

She purposefully steps forward as you stumble off-balanced and careen into her. Just when you think things couldn't get any stranger, Ellie abandons her hold on your arm, hooking around your waist instead, pressing your entire front into hers.

Her arms cage into you on either side of the desk, and it digs into your backside. "Your behavior today has been unacceptable. I should write you up—" 

Something in you snaps.

"Then do it!" You cut in. You'd heard this exact spiel a hundred times over. And despite her numerous threats, your record remained spotless. "I am so sick of this. What'd I even do to make you hate me so much?!"

Momentarily, you seem to stun her. Weakly she mutters, "I don't hate you."

"Yeah right," you scoff, throwing propriety out the window.

Both of you were crossing lines, and you had to accept that you'd likely be out of a job come morning. She was the boss, after all. Blinking away an onslaught of tears, you focus over her shoulder at the beige walls.

She doesn't let you avoid her gaze for long. To your dismay, both her hands grip your face, forcing you to meet her frantic eyes.

"I- fuck, I don't. Seriously. I just," her voice actually cracked. Panic gripped her clear as day, a stark contrast to her typical nonchalant persona. It kept you from stomping on her foot and high tailing it out of there, if only just to see this through and get some long-awaited answers. "I never meant to— oh, fuck it."

Her chapped lips crashed into yours and time stopped. She was actually kissing you.  

Frozen and wide-eyed, you see firsthand the way she melts. Her eyes flutter shut, pressing into you as close as possible so that you're forced backward — a few pens clattering off the desk

Never in your wildest dreams did you foresee this outcome. But for some inexplicable reason, you kiss her back.

Despite your shock, or the questions on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes shut, and your lips finally move against hers. A deep moan is pulled from the depths of her chest and into the slick heat of your mouth.

Grabbing at the lapels on Ellie's suit, you're pleased by how she bends to your whims, arching into you. Her hands wander, a timid quality you would've never attributed to her. She gives your lips chase when you pull away with a wet pwap.

"Why does this feel so, fuck-" you dazedly pant into her spit-slicked mouth. "So good."

"I can make you feel even better," she rushes out, thumbs massaging mindless circles into your hips. She looks drunk, glassy-eyed and flushed pink. "If you let me. Please."

Please. What a trip. You had half a mind to search the room for hidden prank-show cameras.

This new power you seem to hold over her thrums in your veins. It overshadows any lingering doubts, muting the little voice in your head that says this is a bad idea. Instead, you give into the giddy feeling, letting it rush to your head like fizzy soda bubbles. 

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, you nod. "Then touch me."

Her eyes light up like a kid on christmas, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. It's crooked—but hell, is it cute.

Ellie hitches your legs around her hips and pulls your weight into her arms, all the while lavishing your neck with deep sucks. Mindlessly she says things like sweet girl, and even a succession of garbled thank you's. It throws you for a loop; but you can’t deny the way it makes you ache.

Kicking the rolling chair out of the way, she takes you both down to the carpeted floor, laying you gently beneath her. After getting the green light, her hesitation melts away.

Slipping under your shirt, she hungrily palms your tits beneath your bra. The tips of her fingers are calloused, but that fact only seems to heighten your pleasure when they pinch your nipple. With the hand other cradling your skull, she licks into your mouth.

Distracted by her sweet taste, you're caught off guard when Ellie jams a knee between your thighs, forcing out a squeaky, embarrassing moan.

"Fuck," she detaches with a pop, sounding awestruck. Resting her forehead against yours, she peers down. If only she could burn the image of you grinding against her, she would; driven further mad by the feeling of your hot cunt, searing even through the layers separating you.

Suddenly she sits up, shedding her suit jacket and rolling her sleeves to the elbow. She's the picture of sin. Somehow you never realized she was so toned— and, is that a tattoo?

You follow her lead, wriggling out of your blouse and tossing it aside. She helps you with the rest of your clothes, eagerly dragging down your skirt and leaving you in just a pair of cotton panties and a bra. You shy under her unwavering stare, not used to feeling so seen.

"You're unreal," she breathes, resting her hand on your tummy. Her stare lingers on your clothed pussy, the wetness seeping through making it mold to your puffy lips. A proud smirk appears on her face. "You're soaking, fuck. Do ya' always get this wet?"

You squirm, grabbing hold of her wrist. Not to stop her, just with the intention to anchor yourself. "Ms. Will-"

"Ellie," she corrects. She splays her long fingers and slides downwards, stopping to fully cup your heat. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whine, feverish with need. Ellie glides your underwear down your legs, knocking your knees together and pushing them toward your chest for easier access. Once off, she stuffs them into her pocket with zero shame.

Hunkering down, she grips your inner thighs, thumbs maddeningly close to where you're throbbing for her. Splaying them wide for her viewing pleasure, she sucks in a breath and the first sight of your glistening cunt.

"Knew your pussy would be cute," her husky voice drawls. She spreads your sticky folds with her index and middle finger, a string of slick keeping them connected. Exposing your flushed clit and twitching hole, she puckers her lips and with a puh, spits directly inside. Fucking hell— your hips buck, brain short-circuiting.

She doesn't let you get far. Ellie just chuckles, pinning your lower belly with her forearm. Now that she had you like this, there was no running away. Not when you'd only gotten a taste of the pleasure she intended to bestow.

She massages your opening with her thumb, just dipping the tip inside to ease you into it, feeling like sweet torture. Your core gets all cramped up from clenching around nothing, winding yourself up up up. Finally, she slips two of those long fingers inside, knuckle deep.

Scrambling for purchase, your grip finds her wrist like a bracelet. It seems to be your go-to, and you carve out a permanent place there with your nails. So slowly it aches, she bottoms out before tentatively thrusting.

"Oh m'god," you babble, eyes rolling. "oh m'god, you're inside me. I can feel you inside—!"

Ellie shudders, both at your words and the feel of your hot, wet cunt wrapped around her. Taking a deep breath is a mistake; she just gets a lungful of your heady scent. Combined with the feeling of you soaking her hand, her eyes full on roll to the back of her head

"Jesus." Her palm slips up your stomach, taking in every tense of muscle as an orgasm winds up in your core.

Tucking her fingers up in search of your special little spot, Ellie prods a bit before bingo — you clench up tight. You can't think, let alone speak. You can't recall a time you'd ever come so fast, but every curl of her fingers has you climbing up higher and higher to that peak.

Needing to be closer, Ellie plants her free forearm next to your head, upping the pace with her other hand. It grants her a front-row seat to every micro-expression you make, and she tailors her movements to what has you reacting best.

"Look at me," she murmurs, nose grazing your cheek. It takes a moment to comply, her voice sounding far away like you're underwater. "Good girl."

"El," you gasp, legs beginning to shake. Your eyes locked, begging for something.

"I know," she hushes, pecking your lips. She watches with bated breath the way your face crumples when her palm fits against your aching clit. It's just what you need, and your thighs keep her trapped there, grinding back and forth.

In a matter of seconds that feel like a lifetime, you reach your breaking point, cumming around her fingers. Every spasm pushes out a wave of stringy-slick, dribbling down her curled wrist and onto the floor. You don't envy the poor soul who will have to clean it up.

Ellie gently eases you back down to earth, shushing you softly. You can't recall when she slipped out, but from the corner of your eye, you see her stuff them into her mouth.

"Shit," you mutter. As the haze of lust starts to clear up, regret takes its place. You just let your boss, who gets their rocks off making you miserable, finger you on the floor of her office. God dammit--

"Hey," she says gently. It's the opposite reaction you're expecting. Instead of kicking you out, she sits you up, slipping her big jacket around you. When you're decent, she grabs and cradles your hand in two of hers. "I meant what I said. I don't hate you. The opposite, actually."

"Wha-" at first you tilt your head in confusion. Then you really take her in. The shifty eyes, the way she’s pulling at her fingers, those red capped ears of hers. Everything clicks. Oh. "Oh."

It never escaped you how she never paid anyone else the same level of attention. That even at its worst, she never truly hurt you. Just menaced you enough to become a fixture in your life.

"Yeah," she trails off.

"If you're serious, I need you to promise me something."

Ellie's gaze snaps to yours, completely moon-eyed. Reinvigorated, she laces your fingers together, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Anything."

"One, no more bullshit."

She winces but readily agrees. "Of course."

"And two," you continue before she can jump the gun. "You take me out on a real date."

This gets you a real kiss. "I'll fly you to fucking Paris, whatever you want. Money is no obstacle."

You laugh against her lips. Jesus, this girl. "How about dinner and a movie to start."

"Fuck yeah. Sounds perfect."

For a few minutes, you bask in the moment, exchanging kisses before beginning to redress. Balancing with a hand on the desk to get your shoes on, you pause, suddenly remembering something.

“Can we circle back to the seat thing?” You ask, referencing her ridiculous demand from earlier. “Where were you even going with that?”

It takes a few seconds for your question to register, her mind and body still fuzzy. Then she flushes red, from her neck to the tips of her ears. Was she blushing? Now you were beyond intrigued.

“The desk,” she stutters. Your big scary boss actually stutters. “I was gonna, you know,” she clears her throat as if to dislodge the words. 

Your grin is cheshire. “No, I don’t.”

“Like in the movies n’ stuff,” it’s as if it pains her to admit this. You eat it up. “I was gonna clear off the desk and make you sit there. It was supposed to be... sexy.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. “By 'clear' do you mean toss onto the floor?" You ask, eyeing the very breakable cutter on her desk. The image makes you laugh even harder, bellyaching. "You know that would’ve scared the shit out of me, right?”

Her pout deepens. Ellie buries her face into your neck, muffling her voice. “Shut up.”

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next PSA: *look HERE to see their private instagrams!*

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 9. 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓜𝓞𝓥𝓘𝓔 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 2.1k cw: smoking

The microwave beeps, yelling at you to retrieve your bag of freshly popped popcorn from it. You choose a drink from the fridge and rush to retrieve your movie snack, then pour it into a bowl for easy access. There is already another popcorn heating up in the microwave as Shoko prepares one for herself.

In the living room, your friends claimed their spots among the couch, floor, and futon already. You carry your bowl and beverage into the lounge area to find a place to sit for the movie. Most of the spots are at this point taken: there are a few empty spaces on the floor, a spot beside Utahime you assume is reserved for Shoko as the pair is sharing snacks, and an available spot beside Satoru on the two-person sofa, but not anything else. The large sofa is occupied by Mei Mei, Nanami, and Yu, all comfortably sitting on their phones, waiting for everyone to be ready. Suguru sits on the floor in front of Yu, claiming he prefers it over the couch because it "grounds" him.

You hear your name being spoken across the room and you perk up to look for the source. "Sit here," a low voice you've grown familiar with requests. You watch as Satoru pats the spot beside him on the loveseat with a polite smile on his face. Silently, you return the smile and nod, agreeing to sit next to him.

After walking over to your newly assigned spot, you place your popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch and grab a coaster for your drink. Before sitting down, you remember you wanted your fluffy blanket from your room, so with a quick be right back!, you rush to get it.

"Thought you were running away from me for a sec," Satoru laughs once you return with your blanket.

"That's actually exactly what I was doing," you flick his shoulder with your pointer finger and thumb. He laughs and steals a hand full of your popcorn as retribution. "Get your own!" you huff.

"Nah, 'm good with these," Satoru leans into the back of the couch, stretching his arms to span the back of the sofa. You feel the warmth of his body heat behind your head and unconsciously lean into it. His hand finds its way to your far shoulder and pinches it.

"Hey!" you swat at the hand attacking you. "You're so annoying."

He mockingly sticks his tongue out at you, but before you can respond, Utahime stands in front of the TV to carry out her hostess duties.

"Does anyone need anything before we begin?" she smiles and you giggle at how seriously she takes her role. When nobody says anything, Hime claps her hands together and continues with enthusiasm, "Alright! Lets watch the movie!"

The Truman Show begins to play, and as much as you love the movie, it's difficult to pay attention when Satoru's hand lingers above your shoulder, his touch whispering against your neck in a tempting promise that makes it a struggle to pay attention to Jim Carrey's acting. You're unsure as to why his touch is so distracting or how his hand brushing against your shoulder sends sparks down your arm, but the tickle of his fingers brushing ever-so-gently across your soft skin is the only thing you can focus on.

You adjust your position, stretching your legs perpendicular over Satoru's when you lay across the couch. He watches you move before stealing even more popcorn from the bowl you set on your lap. Then, he sets his hands down. And even though a fluffy blanket covers them from direct contact with the skin of your thighs, you curse yourself for just as distracted as before. Instead of watching the movie, you watch his hands, committing them to memory for future daydreams.

But whatever, it's fine. Everything is fine.

You repeat that in your mind for over an hour.

Honestly, you're kind of disappointed about the movie choice. The Truman Show is great and all and really brings out the existentialism in you, but a horror movie would be great right now. Maybe if The Conjuring was on, you could jump into Satoru's arms and-

What?

Okay, calm down. Everything is fine.

You hear your name. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Satoru laughs. "You've been staring at the screen for like five minutes. I can assure you the credits are not that interesting."

"Oh! Sorry. Just re-evaluating every moment in my life, you know. Because what if this is all a TV show?" you ramble. The true reason for your utter dissociation from reality cannot be revealed to him. "Y'know, you could just be some hired actor, or whatever. What if my entire existence was fabricated-"

"How do I know that you're not a paid actor in a world set up for me?" interrupts the white-haired boy.

"No one in their right mind would sign up for that," Suguru prods.

"Yeah, that's, like, a death wish," agrees Utahime.

"Hey!" Satoru grabs the throw pillow beside you and aims it at Suguru, throwing it as if it were a missile.

"They're not wrong," Kento adds.

"No one asked you, Nanami," Satoru squints his eyes at the blond boy.

"Shit, he got last-named," Mei gasps.

"I need a smoke," Shoko groans, hand slamming against her forehead in exasperation.

"I brought shit if you wanna," Suguru says as he reties his hair into a neat bun, Satoru's missile having messed it up.

"Yes," Shoko claps, and her face screams excitement at the thought of a joint.

"'Kay. Anyone else wanna join?"

"I will," you say, standing from your spot. "Just gonna grab a jacket first."

"When would I ever say no to that?" Gojo grins.

---

It's chilly standing outside in the night's breeze. The wind hugs your body through your fuzzy pajama pants, hoodie, and jacket. Street lamps light your path as the four of you head away from campus toward a local park less than ten minutes from your dorm. You hold Shoko's hand as the two of you walk together toward the outdoor basketball courts, sitting on the asphalt beside each other.

Suguru digs through his pocket and grabs a pre-rolled joint and a lighter. He swiftly lights it and takes a puff, takes another and passes it to Satoru who repeats the process. A cycle of puff, puff, pass begins, the air reeking of the marijuana. As you breathe in the smoke, you feel it course through your system, rushing to your brain bringing along a light haze. Your head feels lighter, your body relaxes, and you become giggly after only a few hits.

The four of you (Yu, Kento, Mei, and Utahime didn't want to go out in the cold) sit on the old, blacktop basketball court in a circle. The full moon illuminates the night, the cloudy sky taking it away every now and then.

Under the moonlight, you learn more about the boys as they open up about their lives. Suguru, Satoru, Yu, and Kento went to a fancy private school together in Tokyo. When Suguru first met Satoru freshman year, he despised him, but Satoru eventually took a sledgehammer to the walls Suguru built and Suguru let him in, semi-willingly. They met Yu and Kento, and, somewhere along the way, the four of them formed an unbreakable bond.

After twenty-or-so minutes of conversation and a text from an irritated Utahime, you decide it is time to walk back. Suguru and Shoko lead the way as you walk beside Satoru, lagging a bit behind the other two.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Satoru's white hair glows in the reflection of the moonlight.

"Umm, yeah, I'm grabbing coffee with Yu and our other friend from Sociology. Why? You wanna do something?" You glance at him as you walk, his face looking ahead with a thoughtful expression.

"Yeah, but 'sokay," he turns to look at you with a bright smile. "I hope you have fun!"

"Thanks! If you really wanna hang out, we can, though. I'm free later in the day!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay perfect, because there's an arcade not far from here I wanna go to."

"That sounds like so much fun!"

"Right? I think so too!" Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders. "We're just two peas in a pod, then, aren't we? I'm thinking... hm... maybe go there at 6:30?"

"Yeah, that should work-"

"Perfect!" Satoru squeezes your shoulder, pulling you more into his side as he walks. "Can't wait, angel."

Your palms feel sweaty and you are overly aware of the closeness between you and Satoru, so when Shoko yells for you to catch up, you speed your pace to reach her. Suguru says something to Satoru about Kento's hair that morning which gets Blue Eyes talking about how Suguru just has to get an eyebrow piercing, which somehow leads to how the mochi the dining hall serves isn't sweet enough, then to their lack of sweet breakfast options, and then you finally reached the entrance to the dorms and enter suite 12B.

Immediately after you return, Yu declares it's time for Uno, and everyone complies. After a few rounds, though, the cards are forgotten as conversation has taken over.

Mei Mei looks at you beside her, hesitating before she inquires, "How are things with Toji?"

"Frat guy Toji?" asks Satoru, and she nods in response.

"What do you mean?" you tilt your head at her.

"Like... what is the relationship status?" Mei winks at you with a teasing grin.

"Um, well, honestly, he's been giving brotherly vibes recently."

"What?" Suguru laughs. "Your man?"

"I mean, he's not my man, really. We went on a date and had sex once last week - before he was texting me all this overprotective 'Anyone ever hurts you, lemme know' shit," you shrug. "Was kind of a turnoff."

"Really? I think overprotective guys are so hot," Utahime puts the back of her hand on her forehead as if she's fawning over the thought.

"Well, it would be maybe... but something about the way he said it just gave me a weird feeling. Like he's so hot, but I never felt that so-called spark in the first place, and I knew he would be a fling from the beginning. So I'm not too bummed."

"Sounds like you're handling this pretty well," Kento says to you, and Satoru nods beside him.

"There's really nothing to handle. I'll still have him in my life as friends. He's actually a pretty cool guy!" You smile widely at your friends.

Wanting to shift topics, you ask Suguru about a dragon tattoo you saw the other day on his arm, and he dives into the entire background story of it getting it and what it means to him: "As grave as it is, often the most dire dragons we conquer are the ones that reside within us. The dragon reminds me that I am above fear, and even in my darkest days, I am strong enough to get through whatever "dragon" or obstacle I encounter. If that makes sense."

"That's beautiful, Suguru," you say, eyes welling with tears at how passionate he is.

"Very philosophical!" Mei Mei adds.

"Thank you," Suguru says with some hesitation.

"How long have you all known each other?" Kento asks you, Shoko, Utahime, and Mei Mei.

"Hm... well Shoko and I met in middle school," You smile at the memory. "She yelled at some boys who were bothering me and we've been attached by the hip ever since!"

"And you two?" Suguru questions.

"Sophomore year chemistry. We were in a lab group together," Utahime turns to you with a mischievous look. "Wait, remember when Ino caught your hair on fire?"

"Holy shit, I forgot," you bring a hand to cover your mouth to muffle your laugh. "The ends were singed foreverrr."

"Ino?" Satoru looks at you, his eyes saying something you cannot discern.

"Her lousy ex," Shoko waves off. "Old news. Not important."

"What did he do? Cheat?" Yu pokes. When you and the girls stare blankly at him, he quietly continues, "Oh, okay. He cheated, I guess."

"And his best friend practically tormented me the entire time we were together," you elaborate. The room lulls to a quiet that isn't exactly uncomfortable, but there is definitely some tension in the air.

"Should we turn on another movie? I feel in the mood to watch something," Kento breaks the silence, and after everyone agrees, a comedy movie is chosen and everyone settles into the same spots they were in before.

Not too far into the movie, your head leans on Satoru, so he turns to check on you. But you're asleep - you dozed off, cheek smushed against his shoulder. You look so cute.

The smile on his face lingers even long after he falls asleep.

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

TAGLIST (currently open!):

@kentozwife @inthedarkshadows000 @yoimiya-m @makeshiftproject @frogfishie

@therealanxiety @kaged-kitty @pellucid-constellations @fuckisthatahotghost

@harryzcherry @briezy04764 @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

the end was kinda rushed ngl but hope you like this regardless iluuuuu

also no ino hate i love that cutie

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 13

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

I Need A Hero by @theroyalsavage

The "Nico is a superhero, Will is a med student" AU nobody asked for or wanted.

OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU OBSESSED WITH THIS AU. I AM LOSING MY MIND AND HAVE READ IT SO MANY DOZENS OF TIMES. genuinely one of my top faces like its so fucking GOOD!!! the romcom romance of it all!! makes me lose it!!! the angst of loving someone who is constantly putting himself on the front lines!! the fear of not knowing if he's coming home!! being his healer, holding his life in your hands because he doesn't trust it with anyone else!!!! what if i rioted!!! what if i chewed clean through my ceiling!!!!! what if i swallowed my phone!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what if i clawed my way out of the pit of despair!!!! i am!! gonna!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!

2. As If His Hands Were Enough (to Hold an Avalanche Off) by @theroyalsavage

Nico di Angelo has been through enough to know life doesn't always work out the way you plan. But fate is a funny thing, and, in Nico's junior year of college, it hands him salvation in the form of freckled cheeks and a smile like the sun.

OH dude this author is actually everything to me. prepare for an onslaught of their stuff bc i am OBSESSED, but this one especially....oh it's special man. this had me LOSING MY MIND. seph’s acceptance made its way into my devotion scrapbook. never be ashamed of loving anybody….what a fucking thesis. i also ADORED how a) story didn’t end with them getting together, went thru them learning each other too and b) nico didn’t get fixed by dating will. he got fixed by loving himself, something he learned to do by loving will. crying.

3. Of Gods and Men by @theroyalsavage

There is something profoundly strange about the forest behind Will Solace’s new house. The trees, it seems, breathe magic. The truth is this: there are things that the forest hides that humans cannot understand. Nico di Angelo is one of them.

I LOVE PARTICULAR AUS!!!!!! AND I LOVE YOU ROYAL SAVAGE!!!!! dude god nico and mortal will is always gonna knock me flat bc its so canon, you know? will is going to be a consort of a god one day. and to read it in fic has me HOWLING but this one in particular....OH the ending is gonna knock yall flat fr!!! if you like percy refusing immortality for annabeth youre gonna LOVE this!!

4. Kitchen Nightmares by @theroyalsavage

Nico is the owner and head chef of an upscale restaurant in Hell's Kitchen, New York City. There's nothing easy about running a business, especially when you have to juggle an overprotective father, a college-age sister, and a staff about as under control as a stampede. The last thing Nico needs is a rival in the form of the ugliest food truck on the face of the planet. And yet, that's exactly what he gets. Of food fights, fledgling friendships, and Nico di Angelo's stupid little soft spot for Will Solace.

i know ive literally said it like five times now but NO ONE does an au like theroyalsavage idc. dude romeo & juliet but food truck and fancy restaurant?? hello!!!! omg!! i literally sat my ass down and devoured this i could not stop myself. and then i hit the end and started it right back up again. the love without having the space to establish anything….inherent homoeroticism of rivalry…..my heart!!

5. don't wanna be lonely, just wanna be yours by @theroyalsavage

Will Solace, café manager extraordinaire, just wants to coast through their monthly open mic night in peace. He definitely is not banking on meeting a handsome stranger with the voice of the gods and the death glare of a high-ranking member of the KGB. And yet, that's exactly what he gets.

telling someone you’re not even dating you’re in love with them after like five months is insane behaviour will solace i get you 😭😭 he is so real in every scenario all the time like he is genuinely perfect for nico who is equally as insane and deserves someone who is fully obsessed with him. god.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[boobabietch]

Chapter I: "From College Phenom to WNBA Superstar: The Victoria O’Hara Story" | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: Kinda narcissistic, kinda obsessed Victoria (excuse my girl she just wants to do good)

A/N: first chapter baby let’s fucking goooo, I’m so so excited about this series and I cannot wait for you guys to read it. As always English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes (I wrote this super high so there’s probably some) please let me know so I can change them asap, comments are highly appreciated, please let me know what you think! My ask box is always open too. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

There’s a funny thing about being a woman in sports, and it’s that being good is not enough.

When I was first drafted to the W, my back was in agonizing pain, breaking under the weight of everyone’s expectations. Having an excellent college career made the country ache with the need to see me play with the big dogs, some rooting for my success, but most of them patiently waiting for my imminent downfall. I struggled; climbing up that fucking hill was hard. But everything became easier once my mind was blinded with rage, and that anger had a name: Diana motherfucking Taurasi.

Growing up she was everything I aspired to be. She made it all look so easy, so effortless, and I wanted that. And the thing is, I’m not an aggressive person, not even a bad one. I bake for my teammates every Friday, I have friends all over the league, little girls want my shoes after the games and their grown fathers want my ass, teenage girls even write about me on Tumblr, for fuck's sake! I am perfectly fine!

Until that fucking game.

May 19, 2017

My rookie season. We faced Phoenix for the first time. The air was thick with anticipation, and I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that nobody on that arena came to see me.

There she was.

Diana was there, larger than life, owning the court like she owned the entire damn league. And the truth was, she did.

I knew this moment was coming, but nothing could’ve prepared me for actually standing across from her. She locked eyes with me during warm-ups, her face impassive, like I wasn’t even worth her time. I looked around and every person was the same, nobody really came to see me, not even my team. That’s when I realized that being good at the game it’s not enough, you have to play another type of game if you want people to see you, and I was determined to make them beg for more of me.

That was all it took. I felt something rise inside of me, a mix of insecurity and pure terror, and from that moment, the only thing I wanted more than winning was beating her. Proving her wrong.

And that’s where all the shit unraveled.

It wasn’t just the basketball. It was personal. Every shot I took, every time I drove the lane, I wasn’t just thinking about the score, I was thinking about her. The way she moved. How her voice echoed through the arena when she barked orders to her team. I hated how much I was drawn to it, to her.

My teammates tried to talk me down, “Vico, chill you’re obsessing,” Sydney said. But they didn’t get it. Diana Taurasi was my benchmark, my North Star. My fire, I wanted what she had and in order to get it she was the one to beat. Every game after that I took it as duel, a fight for dominance. I was determined to make her see me, to make her acknowledge that I wasn’t just some rookie passing through, because if she knew that, then everybody would know that I was Victoria fucking O’Hara, and I was coming for the crown, her crown.

And I was doing a hell of a job:

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But it never seemed to be enough, until…

July 7, 2017

It was after another grueling game. We lost by three points, but I played the game of my life. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, slumped on the bench, trying to catch my breath. And someone towered over me.

Someone I was very aware of.

“Not bad, O’Hara. Keep it up, and you might actually be a challenge someday.”

My stomach twisted.

I stared at her for a weirdly amount of time, unsure how to respond. Hell, was she mocking me? Or was this some twisted form of respect?

Before I could think too much, I snapped back:

“Someday? I’m already a problem for you.”

Fuck, that sounded way harsher than I intended.

I saw her look at her shoes, clicking her tongue before staring at me again, a smirk plastered in her face begging to be slapped it out “Of course you are”

And that’s it. She left.

July 30, 2017:

We were playing again, and the tension was unbearable. Everyone could feel it. Diana was all over the place, controlling the game like she always did, like she owned it. But this time? I wasn’t letting her have it. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still ran the show. I needed this moment. I needed to prove myself. To her. To everyone.

Then, in the third quarter, it happened.

I saw her coming. Her eyes were locked on me like a damn predator, and I wasn’t backing down. I made a drive, quick and sharp, cutting to the basket with everything I had. I was going to score, but she had other plans. She slammed into me, body on body, knocking me off my path like I was nothing. I hit the floor hard, my elbows burning from the impact. The whistle blew, and I stayed down for a second, rage boiling under my skin.

"Get up," she muttered, standing over me like she owned the place. "You’re gonna need more than that to take me down, rook."

The audacity. I pushed myself up, heart pounding in my chest, glaring straight at her. I was chest to chest with the legend, staring into her eyes, and for the first time, I wasn’t intimidated. I was pissed. “You think you’re untouchable? Just fucking wait.”

She smirked, like she’d heard it all before. Like she didn’t even have to try. "I don’t think, O’Hara. I know," she spat back, her voice dripping with arrogance.

That was it. That was the moment I snapped. "Oh, you’re just a fucking bitch, aren’t you?" The words flew out before I could stop them, and I shoved her, hard.

The arena erupted in chaos.

Before I knew it, she was lunging at me, ready to push me back. But our teammates were faster, grabbing us before we could even make contact. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, my fists clenched, ready to throw. But the second I tried to break free, I was held back by a wall of arms pulling me away from her.

It took four players to hold me back. Four.

Diana wasn’t any better off. Her teammates were holding her down too, but I could see it in her eyes. She wanted this fight as much as I did. There was fire there, the same fire I felt burning inside me. She wasn’t just here to win; she was here to prove a point. But so was I.

We both struggled against the hands holding us back, trying to break free, trying to get at each other. My muscles ached with the effort of pushing forward, but no matter how hard I fought, it wasn’t happening. I could almost feel the impact of my fist hitting her. The unfinished fight burned inside me, an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

I didn’t give a shit about the cameras or the refs. I didn’t care about the technical they were about to call. All I cared about was making her feel this rage, this fire that she had sparked inside me. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t untouchable. That I wasn’t just another rookie.

Finally, the refs managed to pull us apart, forcing us to opposite sides of the court. My chest heaved with adrenaline, but I wasn’t done. I looked back at her, catching her eyes one more time. That damn smirk still on her face. But I knew she saw me now. I knew she felt it too.

The fight wasn’t over.

That was the moment I realized. Diana Taurasi wasn’t just another player to beat. She was the one. The one I had to take down. And maybe, just maybe, she’d finally met someone who could.

Fucking Diana.

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