#only then it's easy to go through your day

[clairewritesfanfics]

Can I request some hcs of a reader who can make the evil Mark’s literally melt like butter at the slightest touch or compliment. Like he’s normally very stoic and serious/scary and downright evil but as soon as the reader calls him “baby” he’s like defenseless puppy. Absolutely adores the reader but despite his softness, will still murder anyone who dares to look at them wrong.

Specifically thinking of Sinister, Viltrumite, Sheisty, and Emperor, but you can add whoever else you’d like!

Characters: Target, Shiesty, Sinister, Viltrumite

Emperor Mark (aka Target, Striped Mark)

I am still unsure how to portray this guy. He is one of the more difficult variants to write for, and I don’t know whether he’s immature and overcompensating or is a perpetually exhausted boss, but either way, he is a barking chihuahua towards anyone who isn’t you. Ferocious, loud and territorial, but harmless, as long as you’re around.

He hates it when others speak with you, especially “the help” or even your own friends. He glares at them without fail, but stays quiet because the last time he made a scene about someone disrespecting you by making unwarranted eye contact, you reprimanded him and refused to spend time with him until he promised never to get in the way of your social events.

Shiesty Mark

He used to be a total slob; not in the dirty doesn’t shower and brush teeth-way, but in the messy-leaves his clothes littered around the room-way. 

Whipped. All of the Marks are, but this one's “friends” go out of their way to accuse him of this because he is a different man from who he was before meeting you.

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but he’s the type who does not repeat his mistakes. He is prone to being a manchild, but he never weaponizes his incompetence. You wish he wouldn’t scatter his laundry all over your shared home? Ask him nicely and he will fold everything and keep them in one corner for easy access. You don’t like it when he leaves his used glass unwashed on the kitchen counter? Tell him and you will never see dishes pile on the sink again. 

He doesn’t care if his buddies make fun of him, but the moment they insult you is the moment they lose their right to live.

scenario:

“Am I dreaming?”

“No.”

“You’re shitting with me. This is some cruel prank, right?”

You laughed and tapped the package on the table, its plastic cover shimmering under the warm light of your living room. Today was Mark’s birthday. It was hard to forget because he’s been telling you that it was almost his special day a whole month earlier. 

You hung a blue and yellow “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banner over the flat screen TV and had his favorite songs blasting from his Godzilla-shaped speaker. His friends were coming over in a few minutes but you decided to give him his present early. 

It was the newest GameCube with holographic features and a vibrating controller. 

“This was just released in Japan two days ago, they say the program doesn’t even have English installed.” He held the box up like it was the most precious set of chinaware. 

“I knew a guy who knew a guy who helped get the global release models.”

He set down the box and lifted you in the air. “Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?”

You ran your fingers through his hair just as the doorbell rang. “That will be your guests.”

He carefully set you down and started walking towards the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I mean, I know we have a more private thing later tonight planned, but it would be nice to have you here.”

“You’re sweet, but we’ve talked about this. I don’t think your friends like me very much so I’ll only be here for a few minutes to welcome them and then I’ll catch up on some reading in the cafe downstairs while you guys play with your new toy.”

“There is no way they don’t like you.”

You threw your hands up in surrender and went to check the food. 

As you put the freshly baked lasagna on the kitchen island, the racket of Mark’s clique filled the whole condo unit.

“Imma set up the console, you guys can go ahead and eat if you want,” you overheard Mark tell them.

Familiar faces popped in, some smiling, some had their mouths in tight lines. 

“Cool place,” said one of them. It was Kurtis, a guy who had bleached hair and wore really loose pants.

You smiled at him. “Thank you.”

His grin was more sardonic as he added, “Guess Mark must’ve been really good for you to let him move in.”

The others snickered.

“You got any beer here, sweet thing?”

You maintained your polite smile. “It’s in the fridge. Feel free to take anything.”

One of the girls rolled her eyes and she went back to the living room.

You refused to show them any weakness and resumed cutting up the lasagna.

***

“Look at these graphics.” Kurtis whistled as he and Mark raced against each other. 

The living room boomed with music and the roar of digital car engines. The smell of booze and lasagna permeated the air.

“Right? Apparently, the stores in Japan all sold out the hour they released this thing.”

“So how did you get your hands on this thing?”

Mark beamed proudly as he crossed the finish line first, the controller almost vibrating out of his grip. “What do you think?”

“You stole this thing from Japan?”

“No, dumbass, they got it for me. Best part is that there shouldn’t even be an English setting but lo and behold. They gave it to me right before you guys came here. It was quite the surprise.”

“Ah.” Kurtis put down his controller and reached for his beer. 

Mark did the same and looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

Kurtis shrugged. “You changed.”

“What?”

Their friends who were in the room with them suddenly stiffened.

Kurtis shrugged again. “Dude, you just said ‘quite.’ And who the Hell uses ‘lo and behold’?”

“They use those words.”

“Exactly. Just a few months together and now, you act like–” He waved his bottle “–like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like the kind of guy we used to make fun of. Look at this place, bro.”

Mark wasn’t an interior designer, and he would’ve been fine living in a dingy apartment so long as he had his essentials, but since he started living with you he has learned to appreciate a good painting or a potted plant, how one piece can really bring an entire room together. The old him would have scoffed at the person he has become. 

But Mark didn’t like who he used to be before he met you. 

He was about to make a retort when he caught a whiff of cigarettes. He walked into the kitchen. Two of the girls were smoking and drinking orange juice straight out of the jug.

“Nah, you guys can’t smoke here, and for the love of God, we have glasses for a reason,” he reprimanded, confiscating their cigarettes in one swift motion. 

Kurtis was right behind him. “See what I mean, man? You’re a total pussy now. You never used to care about this kind of shit before.”

“Okay, okay.” Mark nodded. “I get what you’re saying, but I’m still me. I just… I dunno, I just like this place, and I like following the rules here.”

“You like–ugh, bro, you are whipped.”

He chuckled. “I guess I am.”

His friends blinked. No one expected that.

Kurtis recovered and smirked. “They really that good of a lay?”

“What?”

“I mean they got you acting like this after a few months of dating when the cops couldn’t even keep you in jail. Come on, man, are they that crazy in bed?”

Something ticked in Mark’s jaw. “Hey–”

Kurtis wrung his arm around his shoulders. “Maybe we’ll understand if you let us have a taste, hm?”

***

You were forcing yourself to remain interested as you read an entire book chapter dedicated to the whiteness of a whale. You were determined to finish Moby Dick today, or at least finish this boring part before your date. 

The gentle ringing of the coffee house door signaled the entrance of a new customer, but you didn’t look up, intent on overcoming this damn novel. 

“Babe?”

Goodbye, Ishmael. 

You looked up. “Mark?”

His hair was ruffled, like he just blowdried it, and he had changed clothes. 

You set down the book. “What’s wrong? Party already over?”

“Yeah, um, we kinda got into a fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh my God.”

“I may have made a mess of the living room, I’m sorry.”

“Oh–”

“I also accidentally broke the GameCube.”

You put a hand over your chest. “Must’ve been some fight.”

He hung his head. “I’m sorry, it must’ve cost you a lot to get that gift.”

“Oh, sweetie.” You rose from your seat and pulled him into an embrace. “It’s okay, it was your GameCube. I’m just sad that you didn’t get to use it for long.”

“I think I’m going to have to take a break from gaming. At least for a week.”

“Don’t you have that online competition next weekend?”

“My team and I decided to disband.”

You stepped back. 

He answered your silent inquiry without meeting your gaze, “Long story, I’ll explain someday.”

“Well, it’s still your birthday, what do you wanna do?”

He played with your hands. “I just want to spend time with you.”

“I know, let’s go watch a movie–”

“Um, I just cleaned the living room and kitchen, so I think it would be good to let the place air out.”

You laughed like you didn’t see the rust on the sleeves of his jacket. “We do have a cinema. C’mon, birthday boy.”

Sinister Mark

Oh, boy. 

This one lives for conflict, second only to one specific variant (I think you know who). Fortunately for him and unluckily for the rest of the world, you don’t care. Hell, a part of you even enjoys seeing him drenched in blood. 

He has no restraint and will pick on people for the pettiest reasons. Man breathed too close to you on the subway? He’s hunting him down. A woman pushed you and cut in line for the cashier? He’s taking her hair. 

Others have tried to ask you to stop him, but you don’t, because your Mark is always stressed because of work and he deserves the fun. 

When you do want him to stop, maybe because you’re tired or hungry, all you have to do is call his name and he will dump what he’s doing to come to your side.

scenario:

Your little bee was late. Normally, you wouldn't have cared. You can forgive waiting for a few minutes, but tonight was a Friday and your favorite murder mystery show was premiering a new episode.

Plus it was exceptionally hot and humid today, and your cheap-ass boss refused to lower the AC temperature than the standard.

So here you stood at the steps of your office building at five p.m., foot tapping impatiently as you waited for your ride home. Sweat soaked you in every possible place.

And like the universe's idea of a joke, a co-worker you hated suddenly joined you.

He was being the usual twit that he was. Hitting on you despite the ring on your left finger.

After ten minutes of getting nothing from you aside from stone silence, the creep snidely remarked, “You know what I think?”

He slowly stepped closer to you, close enough that you could smell his rancid breath as he said, “I think that you're not actually taken, I think your ring is a fake and your fiancé is fake, all so you can have an excuse to be a frigid and stuck-up–”

He never got to finish.

Your “fake” fiancé was here.

More of your colleagues were on their way home when they found your Mark beating the tar out of the resident creep.

A woman turned to you and barked, “Do something!”

You tilted your head. “But he deserves it.”

Your answer made her take a step back. Why did people seem so shocked when you revealed that you supported your future husband? Did they think you had compunctions when it came to punishing annoying creatures?

You watched Mark throw the man on the ground. You didn't see why the others were so concerned. They should be grateful. That prick has been a nuisance since the day he joined the office. Mark was making the world a little better; not that you cared about the state of the world.

You pulled on your collar. It was getting hotter though, so you approached them.

“Marky, let's go,” you whined, circling your arms from behind him. “My head hurts and I'm all sweaty.”

He stopped punching. The fact that the pervert was still breathing meant that your honeybee was holding back.

Mark turned his head towards you and you kissed him on the lips.

“Hey.” He smiled.

“Hey, you're late.”

“I know,” he sighed and rose to his feet, twisting around so he could hold you by the waist. “I'm sorry. I had to deal with some pests that wanted to invade the planet.”

“Again?”

He shrugged. “They never learn.”

“Mmm, you're getting blood all over my coat.”

“I'll get you a new one.” He kissed your forehead. “You said your head hurt?”

You nodded softly.

“I'll give you a full body massage in the bath.” Securing you in his arms, he began to hover.

“Just a bath and a massage this time?”

He grinned and flew so high you can see an ambulance rushing towards your office building. “No promises.” He nuzzled your cheek. “I've barely seen you this week.”

Viltrumite Mark

This one was trained to be the perfect murder machine from the moment he could walk. Quiet, precise and deadly as a sharpened blade, Mark has no issues with killing even children if that is his assignment. 

However, in your eyes, he’s a stray dog who has never known love. 

The first time you hugged him, he went still as a statue and you spent thirty minutes explaining how humans express affection through physical contact. After that, he has no shame when it comes to touching you. He likes to hold your hand, the fabric of your shirt, cradle your cheek, pat your head and lay his chin on the top of your skull. 

scenario:

“So it’s just pure sugar? And you humans actually pay for this?” Mark asked, turning the frog-shaped cotton candy. It was mostly pastel green and had two big black circles for eyes. “It’s hideous.”

“Don’t be like that,” you said, glancing at the plastic headband you bought from a vendor at the theme park entrance. Rather than animal ears, two green barrel springs bounced on top of his head, each one bearing a golden star. “He reminds me of you.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I am not green.”

“He has your eyes.”

“My eyes are not black.” So he claimed, but from where you stood, his brown eyes resembled two pools of obsidian liquid, absorbing light everywhere, taking in as much information as they can.

You picked off one of the frog’s eyes and Mark made an offended face. Smiling, you held the piece of sugar cloud to his mouth. “Open up, space boy.”

Those dark eyes flitted from you to the green fluff, then at you, then back to the fluff. Finally, he obeyed. The sugar melted instantly on his tongue. 

He pursed his lips.

“Well?”

“It is… not disagreeable.” He smiled and bit down on the other eye before pushing the cotton candy towards you. “You take a bite as well.”

“It’s okay, this one is all yours.”

He cocked his head, the stars slinking to the side. “But is it not customary for lovers to share food?”

Cliche as it was, your heart skipped a beat with how he looked at you as he said those words. Your stomach dropped a bit, too. 

You’ve never had the talk with him regarding the exact nature of your relationship, because you were having fun with the way things were, but now you were afraid. Mark was sweet. He was also clueless with how human relationships work. You were his only friend so far, so it was natural that he would feel attached to you. He was naive, so wouldn’t agreeing to be his count as taking advantage of him?

Gentle fingers on your cheek grounded you. “I can see that my words have troubled you. If you are full then I won’t force you to eat, I will, what is the phrase…” He paused, then grinned proudly as he continued, “I will hide away your share for you.” 

You laughed. Mark wasn’t always so touchy, but ever since you explained how it was normal for humans in a close relationship to express affection physically, he has been liberal with his touches. 

“You mean, you will put away my share,” you corrected, taking his hand and swinging it beside you.

He frowned and dipped his chin. The stars drooped like dog ears. “I thought I got it right for sure.”

You smiled. You have a lot of things you wanted to show him. “Come on, let’s go try and win a bear–!”

Your words were cut short when Mark’s arm disappeared from your side and extended firmly behind you. His hand gripped firmly over a young man’s wrist.

He twisted his arm and the boy yelped. 

“This one was reaching for your bag,” he explained calmly, black eyes boring into the teenager trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry, it was a prank, I swear! I didn’t plan to steal anything–augh!”

“Mark, stop!” You put your hands over his arm. “He’s just a kid.”

“Do you know this person?”

“No.”

“He was trying to touch you without your permission.” 

“I’m sure he was just being stupid–” you turned quickly to the teenager “–right?”

“Y-yeah! Yes! I just made a bet that I could get close enough to open your bag, s-swear to God! I wasn’t gonna steal or grope you! It was a prank!”

Mark faced you and blinked slowly. “You once said that pranks are dangerous and foolhardy and often break the law.”

“Well–”

“Where I hail from, miscreants have their bones broken.”

You heard the kid mutter an oh, God and you did the one thing you could think of at the moment: you grabbed Mark’s face and kissed him. 

That seemed to reset his brain because he let go of the kid and dropped the cotton candy to the ground. His arms stiffened beside him like two metal limbs, unsure of what to do next.

When you finally pulled back, he stared at you. “That was a kiss,” he muttered, his prior coldness had melted away entirely, leaving nothing but wide-eyed surprise.

You tried to pull back your hands but his arms came back to life and held them in place. “You said kisses are special, and we shouldn’t give them recklessly.”

You chuckled nervously. “I know, I’m sorry.” Consent was a bit tricky to teach. 

You averted your eyes and dared to ask, “Did you hate it?”

Tender fingers touched your chin and pushed you to look back at him.

“It was not disagreeable.”

this author has a few things to say:

There may be mistakes that I did not spot because I wrote half of this on my phone while lying on my back. The heat in my country is killing me.

I could not think of a good scenario for Target and I’ve kept anon waiting long enough so I just left it alone.

I know that a lot of people headcanon Shiesty to be a fuckboy, and honestly, he can be, but I remember watching him and thinking that bro gave strong "girls have cooties" vibes. Not saying he's a virgin (but he can be), but he feels more like a virgin than a playboy. He strikes me as someone who is more into playing video games than he is getting laid.

Viltrumite Mark is so cute, he is just perfect for corruption.

My variants keep raising the bar for my future spouse.

Disclaimer: The images above are not mine but are screenshots from the Invincible TV series.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

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[keeryhours]

don’t say you love me - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x Hopper!reader, Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

Summary:

You get yourself into a situation with two guys you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected and protected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, weed use, angst, pregnancy, love triangle

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N:

Thank you so much @feral4youu my love for the idea for this fic! Your mind never ceases to amaze me.

You loved your dad.

As far as parents go, he was the best you could ask for. Loving, kind, not too terribly strict despite being the police chief. And he really, truly did love you.

Your mother had always been distant. When she left the two of you with nothing but a note, it hadn’t even been that big of an adjustment. It had always been you and your dad, and as long as you had him, you knew things would be alright.

You’d always had the type of relationship where you felt you could tell him anything. He’d come home from a long day at work and sit in the recliner with his beer, happily listening to you tell him the latest gossip in your friend group. He would listen with full attention, every now and then a genuine reaction - raised eyebrows, “Tina did what? With Carol’s boyfriend?”

The only things he could be strict about were grades, and boys.

You weren’t allowed to date until you were 15. And even then, any guy who wanted to take you out had to go through such rigorous questioning, they felt it wasn’t worth the effort. You were popular - head cheerleader, friendly, friends with the right people, smart and head of your class, and beautiful, according to the Hawkins population. So it’s not like you had a shortage of guys willing to take you out.

But your dad was having none of that.

“You don’t understand,” your dad would say. “Men are dogs, sweetheart. You’re better off without ‘em.”

Things changed your senior year.

You properly met Eddie Munson, first of all. He was a Super Senior, on his second attempt. And it’s not like you didn’t know of him before - everyone in Hawkins knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Most of your friends had been buying weed from him for years.

Eddie always flirted with you. He’d act like a total gentleman any time you were around, making space for you to walk, holding doors open for you, pulling your chair out when you sat down during class. When you’d go with Carol and Tina to buy, he’d single you out specifically, call you beautiful and make eye contact with only you.

“Think the Freak has a crush on you,” Carol laughed as the three of you left with your stash of weed.

“You think?” you asked with hope in your voice and butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you’d consider it?” Tina said, her eyebrows raised.

“No, of course not,” you said. “I just…didn’t think he liked me like that.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Carol said. “It’s obvious. He’s got a major hard-on for you.”

You blushed. “I don’t think-“

“Oh, he totally does,” Tina added. “So gross.”

“And you know Jason Carver has been into you for years-“ Carol said, but you cut her off.

“You know my dad doesn’t let me date,” you reminded her, mostly just to get off the subject of Jason.

“Which is so dumb,” Carol said. “Does he want you to die alone?”

“Probably,” you mumbled.

The next time you saw Eddie, you were both alone. You had been sitting out on the picnic table in the woods behind the school, wanting time alone. The sound of Eddie’s footsteps had startled you.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, a friendly smile on his face as he held his hands up. “Didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

“Me either,” you said, putting your feet back on the ground to get up. “Sorry, I’ll just-“

“No, stay,” Eddie had said. “I could use the company.”

Eddie was easy to talk to. He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel comfortable. And when he ended up standing between your legs, his lips on yours and his hands gripping your bare thighs, well, you couldn’t say it was totally unexpected.

Eddie was your first, and you were his. But once you’d had sex, he was feral for it. You hooked up near constantly, any time he could pull you away without suspicion, he would.

You had been scared at first. You knew it would be a disaster if your dad found out. Not only were you not supposed to be doing anything with guys, but this was Eddie Munson. Your dad knew perfectly well what Eddie did for extra cash.

You had a few particularly close encounters. You always either rode the bus or got a ride from a friend home after school - your dad worked late and never had time to pick you up. So, you started spending your time with Eddie after practice.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie panted from behind you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, light bruises appearing beneath his fingers. He didn’t even notice, too lost in his own pleasure he was chasing inside of you. “Always so tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

“Please,” you gasped out. “I want you to.”

Eddie groaned, his hair tickling your back as his head dropped forward on his shoulders. His hips were rutting into you desperately, pumping his entire length into you. You could feel every ridge and vein of him - but you knew his shape by heart at this point.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his own. He thrusted hard into you a few more times, then, with a cry of your name, he came, filling you deeply.

When he pulled out, he could see his cum dripping out of you. He watched with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to dive back in, his cock already twitching back to life-

There was a banging on the side of the van.

“Munson!” your dad yelled. “I know you’re in there, and it better not be with my daughter.”

You both froze. “Fuck,” Eddie whispered, jumping into action and pulling his boxers and jeans back on. “Fuck!”

You pulled your dress back down, then searched all around you. “Eddie, where are my panties?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face as he pulled the thin lace material from the pocket of his jeans and handed them over. “Just thought I’d keep a souvenir.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you put them back on. There was another loud banging and then Eddie threw open the back doors just as you straightened out the skirt of your dress.

Hopper looked into the vehicle, looking very pissed off. He said your name. “What are you doing in here?”

You wished you had thought of an excuse before this moment. “We have a project together.”

“Oh yeah?” Hopper didn’t sound like he believed you at all. “Where is it?”

Eddie met your eyes, like, you started this one, it’s on you. “We were just brainstorming. We just got it assigned today.”

Your dad sniffed the air- no doubt searching for the smell of weed. You just hoped he couldn’t smell the sex. When he didn’t recognize anything that set off alarms, he looked at you again. “Well, come on. I’m driving you home.”

You bid Eddie an awkward goodbye, then followed your dad to his car. You avoided looking at him as you buckled your seatbelt - you did just get your back blown out by Eddie in the back of his van, after all.

“Don’t hang out with him,” your dad said as he drove you home. “I’m serious. Anyone but him. Munson is trouble.”

“Dad, he’s not a bad guy-“

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “I know what he does. And you’re too good to get involved in any of that. You have such a bright future, I don’t want to see it wasted on some loser.”

“Dad, Eddie is not a loser-“

“Sure,” he said. “But my point stands either way. Don’t waste time with him.”

You could still feel Eddie’s release between your thighs the whole way home.

Billy Hargrove came crashing into your life all on his own. He had come to Hawkins his senior year, taking over as the most popular guy in school. 

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Steve had said, slamming his locker shut to make the point. “Seriously. Stay far away from him.”

It seemed like that had always been a personal challenge for you.

You actually met Billy when he joined the basketball team. You spent a lot of time with the basketball guys, being head cheerleader. It was his first game with the team, and you had to admit, he impressed you. Billy was really good. Your eyes stayed glued to him the entire game, and he definitely noticed with the way he kept smirking in your direction every time he’d do something cool.

“I think Billy’s looking at you,” Chrissy leaned over and said with a huge grin on her face.

You found yourself smiling back. Sure you’d heard the rumors about Billy already, but it’s not like you needed him to fall in love with you. You were down to just have some fun.

Billy loved that about you. You caught his attention the first time he ever saw you, but once he realized you were down for no strings attached hookups? You became his favorite girl in town.

He approached you after that game as everyone was running to the showers. He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. He gave ladies man vibes the second you saw him, but hearing him talk, you could really see it. It didn’t take a lot of flirting before you were sneaking into the men’s locker room with him after everyone else had left, letting him undress you and then take you against the wall while the steam and heat surrounded you.

Billy couldn’t get enough of you once he’d had you. And once he found out you wanted to keep things secret because you were the police chief’s daughter? That made you even more irresistible.

“You’re hooking up with Billy?” Eddie said, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hargrove?”

“Um…yeah,” you’d said awkwardly, as Eddie was naked between your legs. He was kissing across your inner thighs, nearing where you needed him the most.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like him?” You sat up on your elbows, looking down at Eddie. “He’s not the worst guy ever like everyone says.”

“Only he is.” Eddie moved in and licked a stripe along your folds, making you gasp. “He’s a huge fucking asshole.”

“Well, I like him,” you defended as strongly as you could while Eddie was eating you out, groaning as he devoured you. He always knew how to get the last word of an argument.

“Why don’t you stop thinking about him and let me take care of you, baby?”

You were putting the last of your books away in your locker for the day when you felt a set of muscular arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you close into the owners’ firm body. Carol, Tina, and Chrissy gave you a mischievous look - it wasn’t hard to imagine who it was.

“Hey, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear. “What are y’doing?”

“Just getting ready to go home,” you said. “Carol’s driving me.”

Billy looked over at your friends as if noticing them for the first time. He gave them a wolfish grin before looking down at you. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna have a change of plans.”

“Oh yeah?” you laughed.

“Yeah,” he said again easily. “I think I’ll bring you home tonight.”

“Have fun, you two,” Carol said, then you watched as your friend group left you with nothing but a knowing look on each of their faces.

Billy was already kissing down your neck, his large hands sliding beneath the hem of your cheer skirt. “Need you so bad.”

You leaned back into his touch, nearly forgetting yourself and where you were. “Let’s go.”

You spotted Eddie on your way out, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. You gave him a nod and he watched as you walked off towards the Camaro with Billy’s hand on your ass. For once, he thought it would be pretty funny if the police chief just so happened to be here.

Billy opened the passenger door for you, his hand trailing up your thigh as you slid into the seat. He was being needier than usual. Once he was seated himself, he started the car, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped off.

You always loved it when Billy drove with one hand like this. His fingers pushed up your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. You were wet already, pushing down against him.

“Needy slut,” he hissed, although he was the one nearly begging for it. “Wait until I can get my hands on you.”

You expected him to take you to Lover’s Lake as usual, but instead he pulled up in front of his house. At least you assumed it was his house - a single story home with a screened in porch. No cars were outside. Billy had never taken you home before.

“Is this your place?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “But my dad and step mom went out of town for the weekend, so…we’re good.”

“What about your sister?”

“First of all, she’s not my sister,” he said. “And she’s staying with her friend. She won’t bother us.” He leaned over the seat towards you, placing a kiss on your lips. “We’ve got the place to ourselves all weekend. You could…even stay, if you wanted to.”

Billy was really asking you to spend the whole weekend with him? “Maybe.”

Billy smiled. He kissed you one more time, then the two of you climbed out of the Camaro. Billy unlocked the front door and you followed him inside. The inside of the house was much different than you expected. It hardly even looked like a family lived here. Billy’s weights were set up right off the living room with a tiny TV next to them. There was a closed bedroom behind it that you assumed was Max’s, then a hallway with more rooms to the right.

He dropped his denim jacket on the couch then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping it open and taking a long drink. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt underneath the jacket, his even tighter jeans hugging his huge thighs. You could never say he wasn’t easy on the eyes.

He finished the beer and tossed it in the trash can, then turned to you. “D’you want anything? A beer, a soda, water…”

“I’m good,” you said. Billy smiled softly at you and then he spun you around, leading you down the short hall with his hand on your lower back. He opened the last door, revealing a bedroom that was definitely Billy’s, yet neater than you had been expecting.

His plaid bed sheets were tucked neatly, the bed made. There were no dirty clothes strewn across the floor. His cassettes and record collection were organized and put away. There weren’t even clothes poking out from his drawers. He had posters on his wall, Metallica you recognized, as well as some you didn’t know and some posters of girls.

Billy stepped around you, closing the door. “‘s not much,” he mumbled.

“It’s nice,” you smiled. He returned it.

“Now,” he said, “I’d like to see you on my bed.”

“Yeah?” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around you again, kissing all over your face and neck, down to what was exposed of your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. His hands slid up your skirt again, grabbing your ass. He slapped it, making you gasp. 

“Billy!”

He groaned. “I can’t help myself, baby. Every time I get my hands on you, I can’t fucking help myself.”

He pushed your skirt down your legs so it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, kicking it away. Billy was already working on your cheer top, pulling it over your head.

His hands roamed your body, left in nothing but your bra and the tiniest pair of panties that left little to the imagination. Billy was losing his mind at the sight of them, his hands rubbing over your ass, up your sides and to your tits, nipping at your neck and chest.

“Gonna mark you up real good,” Billy grumbled against your skin. “Let Munson see what he missed out on.”

You playfully slapped at him- “Billy, don’t be an asshole.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “If I have to share, I can at least send you back with the proof of what I did to you.”

You gasped out a moan as he bit down particularly hard on your neck, sucking on the skin and running his tongue over the bite. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

Billy pushed you down onto his bed. You bounced slightly as you watched him watching you, eyes never leaving your body as he kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt and worked his belt open. You were practically drooling as he revealed more of his incredible body to you. You had never been too concerned with muscles or build before, but Billy’s body was something else entirely. He was hot.

He was already rock hard as he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down. He wrapped a large hand around his shaft, tip flushed red and glistening with precum. You could see his hand shuddering as he stroked himself, eyeing you like he could eat you alive.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He crawled over your body, pulling your panties down and tossing them anywhere. He placed his hands on your knees and slowly spread your legs, groaning as he finally saw your pussy, so wet and ready for him.

He made quick work of your bra, getting rid of that and immediately wrapping his lips around your nipple. You arched into him, bare pussy grinding against his cock, desperate for him to stop teasing and fuck you already.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut. And everyone thinks you’re this good girl.” He nuzzled against the side of your head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “What would your daddy think if he could see you like this? Desperate for my cock?”

“Billy,” you whined. “Please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

Billy chuckled, pulling back to drag his cock through your folds, teasing your hole every now and then. “I bet he thinks you’re off somewhere studying right now. Gonna get into a real good school, right? Following the rules, never lying…” His tip slipped inside and you gasped, fingers gripping onto his sheets. “Definitely not letting guys like me fuck you stupid.”

He sunk fully into you with a roll of his hips, his entire thick length splitting you open. He moaned as he began thrusting into you quickly, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. You held tightly onto his shoulders.

“Billy,” you moaned, fingers threading through his mullet of dirty blonde curls. You pulled on them slightly - he always loved when you did that. This time it earned a stutter from his hips, a weak “H-oh,” from him.

Billy never liked to admit weakness, but he was weak for you. You knew all the right things to do, the places to touch, the things to say. What was he supposed to do?

He buried himself in you with every thrust, each one powerful and strong, rocking the mattress. He would never admit it to you, but he never fucked the other girls the way he fucked you. He loved to take his time with you, to feel every inch of you, to savor it. He loved fucking you slow, watching the cute faces you’d make every time he hit your g spot with the head of his cock. He just loved looking at you - especially when your face was twisted in pleasure he was giving you.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking down at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, cheeks flushed, the slightest bit of sweat across your forehead, lips parted. You looked so beautiful like this, he thought.

He grabbed onto your thighs and pushed them up, spreading you wider and giving himself a better view. He was able to get deeper like this, pound into you faster, and he took advantage of that.

“You feel how deep I’m in you?” he grunted, hand resting on your lower belly.

“M-mmhmm,” you attempted to hum in agreement, but then he was pushing down, groaning as he could feel the pressure against his cock, and you were- oh god-

“Billy,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum-“

“Yeah, shit, yeah, cum for me,” he panted, fucking you faster, his own release imminent. He hiked your leg up over his shoulder and leaned over your body, kissing you hard as he nearly bent you in half.

Your orgasm hit you, but every thrust of his cock was still hitting that spot and making it feel like it was lasting forever. You tried to tell Billy it was too much, but the way he was laying on you made it impossible. A few actual tears slipped from your eyes.

Billy noticed immediately. “Holy shit,” he said, and then he dropped his head into your neck and cried out as he came, pumping his load into you, thrusting in as deep as possible to make sure you got every drop.

His trembling body remained on top of you for a bit longer, then he rolled off, pulling out and laying down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck. Billy Hargrove was not a cuddler after sex - usually it was okay thanks, bye. But with you…he never wanted to let you go.

You didn’t question it. You weren’t sure you wanted to go down that path.

Billy played with your hair as you laid there. He thought - about you, mostly. Should he actually ask you out? He’s been playing this cool guy who only does hookups role for so long, he’s almost forgotten how to initiate a relationship. Did he want one? With you, yes. Absolutely. So why didn’t he just ask? It drove him crazy that he knew you still slept with Munson. He had stopped sleeping with other girls. Sure, he hadn’t exactly told you that yet, because wouldn’t that make it too real? Would you even like that? Or would it scare you right back into Eddie’s arms? But if there’s one thing Billy knew, it’s how he felt about you.

You liked Billy. You really did. But could you even be together if you wanted to be? Your dad certainly knew of Billy, too. He’s just as high on the stay away list as Eddie.

But you let Billy cuddle you. You let him twirl your hair, trace your skin with his fingers, pepper your body in kisses and affection, whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

Maybe it was wrong of you. Maybe you just wanted to feel loved. Maybe you really could love him back. Or maybe you never would.

You spent that weekend with Billy, with a promise to your dad that you were at Chrissy’s. You felt horrible lying to him, but there’s no way he would have let you stay otherwise. The thought was laughable.

You had never lied to your dad before this year. It felt horrible, like grime stuck to your skin you could never wash away. And to lie so you could sleep with guys? Who even were you becoming?

You didn’t dwell on that thought for the weekend. You allowed yourself to be spoiled by Billy - you fucked, you watched movies, fucked some more, cooked together, slept in bed cuddled together, fucked again. When you finally left Sunday evening, Billy had a perfectly sated smile on his face, leaning against his bedroom door in nothing but a pair of boxers, smoking a cigarette as you packed your stuff.

You heard the door open as you were zipping up your bag, then- “Ew, gross.”

You smiled as Billy scrambled to throw some sweats on. “Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greeted you. She always liked you, the times you’d been in the car while Billy drove her home or to the arcade. At least you were nice and didn’t totally ignore her.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Billy asked gently as you headed for the front door with your cheer bag. His hand rested on your cheek, looking into your eyes like you held the secrets of the universe there. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

“That would kind of give away the lie,” you said, with a forced playfulness. You didn’t exactly want to walk all the way home either, but you weren’t going to pull up at home in Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.

“Let me at least take you part way,” he said. “It’s a long walk.”

Eventually, you agreed to that. Billy put a shirt on and escorted you out to the car. He drove you most of the way home, stopping half a mile from your cabin. “You sure you’re good from here?”

“Yes, Billy,” you said. You were already climbing out of the car with your bag slung over your shoulder. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he said. “See you.”

Billy watched you walk as far as he could see, then found a spot to turn around and go back to his own house. He knew he needed to be there before his dad and Susan got home.

When you saw your dad was already at home, you breathed a sigh of relief that you hadn’t let Billy drive you all the way. You knew it was unlikely, but it was still a possibility. You walked up the front steps and let yourself inside.

Hopper looked up as you walked in, a smile on his face. “Well if it isn’t my beautiful daughter I never see. How was Chrissy’s?”

He didn’t sound suspicious at all, which was a good thing, but only made you feel a million times worse. “Good. We had fun.”

“Good,” he said. He took another sip from his beer. A pause. “That Munson boy called for you again.”

You almost rolled your eyes. You had told Eddie time and time again that you would call him. “Oh yeah? Probably just about the project.”

Your dad hummed. “You know I don’t want you spendin’ time with him-“

“-anymore than I have to, yeah I know,” you said. You tried not to let visions of things you and Eddie had already done flash through your mind, but you were powerless to stop it.

“He’s bad news, honey,” he said. “We’ve had him in the station a lot. Him and that…new Hargrove boy.”

Your cheeks flushed. Of course your two hookups were the entirety of the list. “I won’t, dad. I hardly even know them.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “You’re a good girl. You’re not dumb. Don’t do something dumb.”

“Where were you all weekend?”

Eddie’s voice purred in your ear as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close into his lean body. You giggled, letting him hold you, touch you.

“Billy’s,” you said, like it was nothing.

Eddie froze. “You were at Hargrove’s all weekend?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning around in Eddie’s arms. “His parents were gone for the weekend, so he asked me to stay over.”

Eddie was looking at you with his brows furrowed. “That’s serious.”

“No it’s not,” you said dismissively, waving that idea off. “He just wanted to get laid all weekend.”

“I’m telling you,” Eddie said, looking at you seriously. “It is. If Hargrove asked you to play house with him all weekend, it’s because he feels something for you. More than just sex.”

“Eddie, do we have to do this right now?” You played with the curls at the bottom of his neck, the ones that always drove him crazy. Eddie groaned, the fight leaving his body.

“Jus’ don’t want you forgettin’ about me,” he mumbled.

Your heart sunk. “Eddie, that’s not gonna happen.”

Much like Billy, Eddie also had constant thoughts of why he didn’t just ask you out. You were everything he wanted. The only thing he wanted. He didn’t look at other girls at all. He knew the thing with your dad would be an obstacle, but it didn’t have to mean there couldn’t be anything, right?

And he thought you liked him, too. That was until Billy came into the picture. Before Billy, you and Eddie just hooked up with each other, no one else. It was just a few words away from being official - at least that’s how Eddie saw it. When he learned you had started sleeping with Billy, he had to pretend to be a lot less phased than he was.

Because he had been hurt.

“What if Billy asks you out, huh?” Eddie asked. “What would you do?”

You looked up into Eddie’s big brown eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. His lips parted, but no sound came. Before he could think about it too much, you connected your lips to his. Any thoughts that had been in his head swiftly left as he felt your tongue prodding against his bottom lip.

“Take me somewhere,” you whispered, and Eddie’s grip tightened on you like he was scared you’d drift away.

“Let’s go to my van,” he said.

You and Eddie practically ran out of the school hand in hand, giggling as you sprinted for his van. You got some strange looks from other students - even your friends didn’t understand your weird flip-flopping between Eddie and Billy - but you didn’t care. You never had. And you were well liked enough that no one was going to go tattling to your dad.

Eddie started up the van and drove off. He could and would have fucked you right there in the school parking lot where everyone could see the van rocking as he pounded into you, but he thought you deserved more than that.

So Lover’s Lake it was.

He pulled to a stop in front of the familiar lake, killing the engine. He nodded back towards the back, and you didn’t have to be told twice before you were climbing between the seats and to the large open space behind them. Eddie was right behind you, and then he was all over you.

He felt every inch of your body, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. You kissed frantically, hands and lips everywhere. Eddie groaned, his pants even tighter than how they began. He shuddered when you ran your hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“Please,” he gasped. “Need you.”

Eddie could be dominant, but for the most part he was much more submissive than Billy. He had no problem begging, or letting you take control. Billy was different. He liked pushing you down, taking what he felt belonged to him. Eddie was all sweet touches and pleading and looking up at you with his doe eyes while he begged to cum.

You began undoing his belt and jeans while Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your dress. He stroked you over your panties, feeling the material soaked from your arousal. Nothing got Eddie off like seeing how badly you wanted him.

Just as you shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock, Eddie pulled away from you, pushing you back and making you gasp as he dove in between your legs. He buried his face against your cunt, breathing in your scent, nose pressed against the wet material of your thin panties. You gasped again when his tongue came out and licked you over the fabric.

“Need to taste you,” he begged. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet. Can’t resist this pussy.”

You whined. “Please.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear anything else. He slipped his ringed fingers beneath the waist of your panties and pulled them down, wasting not a single second before he was burying his face in your bare pussy. His long tongue licked along your folds, then he really dove in, two fingers slipping inside of you until you could feel the metal of his rings against your skin.

He thrusted his fingers as he worked that talented tongue over your clit, making your head absolutely spin as you writhed on the messy floor of his van. But how many times had he fucked you back here already? Eddie had fucked you lots of places, to be fair.

“Eddie, I’m- oh!” 

You cried as he sucked hard, your thighs trembling around his head, fingers tangling in his curls. You pulled on his hair, making him moan against your pussy. He was thrusting against the blanket beneath you, his dripping cock rubbing against the material providing some kind of relief.

He just needed you to cum for him, at least once. He didn’t think he could survive without it, didn’t want to cum inside you without the taste of your own release still on his tongue.

You were going to give him exactly what he wanted. You could feel it building deep in your belly, your chest heaving faster with the speed of your breaths. He sped up the pace of his fingers, his tongue working over you exactly the way he remembered you loved.

“Eddie!”

Eddie groaned as you tightened around his fingers, cumming all over his hand and mouth. He fucked you faster through your release, until you were covering your face and telling him to stop. When you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back and placed a final kiss against your clit.

“Always taste so good,” he said with a wicked grin, like he’d gladly do it all over again. If he knew how Billy had made you cum so hard you cried, he would take it as a personal challenge.

He kissed you, pushing your dress up your body. You could fully taste yourself on his tongue, and it excited you. The first time Eddie had kissed you after going down on you, you weren’t sure you liked it - but it grew on you. He slipped your dress off over your head and threw it to the side.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” he asked quietly as he nuzzled between your tits, kissing over every bit of exposed skin he could get to.

“That’s not true,” you said, like the natural reaction to being called beautiful was to shut it down as soon as possible.

“But it is,” he said. He looked down, then back up. “Do you see what you do t’me?”

“That’s not that hard to do,” you teased, and Eddie smiled.

“To this level, yeah, pretty hard to do.” He kissed you. “I only get this hard for you.”

“How romantic,” you giggled. Your laugh turned into a gasp when he bit down on your neck, covering a hickey Billy had left over the weekend.

“I can be romantic, if that’s what you want,” he said. “I just thought you liked getting fucked like a whore.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I like both.”

Eddie smirked down at you. “I could be slow and gentle sometimes too, y’know.”

“I like when you fuck me,” you pouted.

Eddie chuckled. “I like fucking you too. I just, I don’t know…sometimes I wanna take it slow. Really look at you. Really feel you.”

Your heart was beating faster. “Yeah?”

Eddie was kissing across your chest now. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Can I do that?”

You thought about it. It seemed like it was awfully close to catching feelings, which you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do, for either of them. But the way Eddie made your heart beat, the way you wanted him to make love to you, wanted him to love you-

“Okay,” you said. “Just this once.”

Eddie smiled. He unhooked your bra and let you pull his t-shirt over his head. He kissed all over your body, taking his sweet time working his hips back between your legs.

“Don’t wanna use a condom,” he mumbled. “I wanna feel you. All of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “I’m on birth control, you know that.”

Eddie knew that very well. He was paranoid about the consequences, though - usually he used a condom every time anyway, just to be safe. But sometimes…

“No fucking condom,” he said. He kissed you hard again as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing just barely inside. He sunk into you with a slow roll of his hips, your body turning to pure electricity as you felt every single inch of him inside of you.

He was slowly grinding his hips into you, carefully thrusting at a pace slower than he’d ever used. It took everything in him not to pound you into the floor, but he was loving the feeling of savoring your body. He could really feel every inch of your velvety walls, the way you clenched around him, holding his cock tightly within your warmth.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, whispering right in your ear as he made love to you. “Feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight for me, like your body was made for me. Only me.”

Eddie always got a little possessive, especially if he knew you had recently been with Billy. He would never say it, but it was obvious that it drove him crazy. He needed to claim you for his own.

Eddie’s lithe body rolled as he pressed his cock into you over and over, holding your body close to his. You could feel his heart beating against your own chest, and you wondered if he could feel yours, too. Eddie kissed your neck as he fucked you, covering every mark Billy had made.

He reached in between your bodies and rubbed against your clit. You whimpered, something had already been building just from the feeling of the way he was fucking you, taking you apart.

“Eddie,” you whined, “I’m…I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned. “Yeah, baby, I want you to. Got to taste your cum on my tongue, now I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock.”

You whimpered again as Eddie began to lose himself, his hips speeding up back to a normal pace for him. His hips were snapping against yours, his moans becoming shaky and weak. You were throbbing around him as your orgasm built and built.

When it snapped, your mouth dropped open in a wide O, your nails digging into Eddie’s back and scratching down his skin, leaving bright red marks. You cried out his name again and again like a prayer, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him combined with the look on your face pushed Eddie over the edge.

He came hard inside of you, grunting your name until it turned into more of a whine, a plead. He shook as he held onto you - Eddie always came so hard, so much. You could feel him filling you, feel the way he came so much it was dripping out from around him.

When he pulled out, he inhaled sharply, eyes glued to the mess he left behind. His favorite part, the part he didn’t get to enjoy when he used a condom. This was worth the risk.

“Fuck, look at you,” he remarked. “That’s so fuckin’ filthy.” His eyes remained glued to you, taking in the view, until a lightbulb went off in his head. “Shit, wait! Don’t move.”

You watched him curiously as he reached under his seat. He came back out holding a polaroid camera - and your eyes widened.

“I got it for us,” he said sheepishly. “Can I…?”

“You want to take a picture?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll be looking at this one every night.”

You weren’t sure how comfortable you were with this exactly, but he seemed so excited, you didn’t want to tell him no. “Okay. Just don’t get my face in it.”

“You got it.” Eddie moved back between your legs and lifted the camera to his face. He lined up the shot and took the photo. When it came out of the bottom of the camera, he held it up, waiting for it to develop. You knew it had when a wolfish grin spread across his features - “Oh, that’s a good one.” He looked up at you. “Do you wanna see?”

“I’m good,” you said, scrunching your nose up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see yourself in that way - he could keep that to himself. He certainly seemed to love it, though, the way he kept staring at the image.

“Gonna cherish this,” he said with a smile. He stuffed the photo in the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed a towel from the floor and cleaned you up with it, then handed you your clothes. You both redressed in a comfortable silence - you’d been here many times before.

“What do you want to do now?” Eddie asked. He pulled a cigarette from his pack. “I don’t really want you to go.”

You shrugged. “What do you think?”

Eddie lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, taking a long drag. “We could smoke,” he offered. “We could make out. We could go back to my place and listen to music, smoke, and make out.”

You laughed. “Alright. Your place it is.”

It took you too long to realize something was wrong.

Being on birth control, you didn’t always get your period - so that didn’t set off any alarm bells for you at first. It was when you started getting sick after breakfast, when your clothes felt like sandpaper against your boobs, when you had to pee 50 million times a night. That’s when you got scared.

“What’s wrong with you?” a wide-eyed Tina asked at school when you showed up dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hood pulled over your disheveled hair and dark circles beneath your eyes. “You look like shit. Like actually.”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Carol asked. She put the back of her hand against your forehead.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The girls froze.

“…What?” Carol asked, sure she hadn’t heard what she’d just heard. Her, Tina, and Chrissy leaned in. “Say that again.”

“I don’t know for sure, but-“

“No, say what you just said again,” Tina said. “You know, the thing you said just a minute ago.”

You looked up, willing the tears brewing in your eyes not to fall. “I’m pregnant. I think.”

The girls just blinked at you.

“Did you take a test?” Chrissy finally asked.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t…I’ve been scared.”

“Well, don’t just go around telling people you’re pregnant when you don’t even know,” Tina said.

“Oh my god,” Carol said, shoving her books back into her locker. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Carol led the way out of school. No one stopped the four of you as you walked out with confidence, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. No one ever questioned the four of you.

Carol drove you all to the pharmacy. You had a whole entourage with you as you went inside, picking up one of the results in 30 minutes! tests. Minutes later you were shut in your downstairs bathroom, grateful your dad had such a set work schedule, and taking the test while the girls bickered outside.

“If she’s pregnant, I’m the godmother-“

“No, she would pick me, we’ve been friends longer-“

“Yeah, but she likes me best, so-“

The chatter stopped when you walked out. Your friends looked at you with concern. “30 minutes,” you said, as if that wasn’t a potential death sentence.

They tried their best to keep you entertained and your mind off things as you waited the 30 minutes, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by like hours.

When the 30 minutes were up, each of your friends squeezed your hand, offering their silent support as you went inside to see the results. You looked down, and, sure enough- blue. Positive.

You choked out a sob. The girls rushed to your side, looking down at the results and then pulling you into a group hug.

“Oh, honey,” Carol said, stroking your hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re not in this alone,” Chrissy said. “We promise. You have us.”

“Do you…” Tina began awkwardly, like she knew she shouldn’t ask what she was about to but couldn’t help herself. “Do you know who the dad is?”

It occurred to everyone at that exact moment. No. You didn’t.

Something broke inside and the tears began flowing freely. You covered your face as choked sobs escaped your lungs - you were scared.

The girls did their best to calm you, to assure you everything would be okay, but you didn’t believe them. This was a fucking disaster. A baby, and no idea who the father was. There were two very possible options.

And what the fuck happened to your birth control? Useless, apparently.

The girls stayed with you all day. No one cared about skipping school, even though it was the first time you’d really done it. By the time the school day was over, you had come up with somewhat of a plan.

“Can you take me to Billy’s?” you pleaded with Carol.

She raised her brows. “You want to tell him? Now?”

“Yes,” you said. “I just…he’s…you know how Billy is.” You twisted one of your rings around your finger. “He…gets upset. So I just want to get it over with. I don’t want him to find out through a rumor or something.”

“We’re not gonna tell,” Carol said. Her eyes darted over to where Tina stood across the room. “Well, I’m not gonna tell. But yeah, I’ll drive you.”

You insisted Carol drop off Tina and Chrissy before taking you to Billy’s. The nerves were in place, and you admitted you were putting it off. Once the girls were gone and Carol’s car idled in front of the Hargrove residence, you just stared at the front door. Billy’s car was here - he was home. You didn’t see any other cars.

“You sure you want to do this today?” Carol asked, her face full of concern. “You don’t have to. You can wait.”

“There’s no point,” you shrugged. “He has to find out. I might as well…get it over with.”

Carol watched as you got out of the car and walked the sidewalk to the porch. You’d only been here the one time before, but you knew you were at the right place. You raised your fist - and let it hover over the door. You stood there - god, what would you even say? Would Billy be pissed? Would he blow up? Would he do something?

Your hand came down against the door.

as always, comments & reblogs are so appreciated!!

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[jordiemeow]

summary: new rochelle is watched over by father patrick: charismatic, trusted, adored by the town's youth. but when you, a troubled young woman, begin confessing desires you can barely name, he finds himself drawn to more than just your need for salvation.

warnings: 18+, masturbation, religious themes/blasphemy, morally dubious priest, specific age gap not specified but implied (patrick early 30s at most), power imbalance mentioned + alludes to patrick seeing himself as god, patrick jerking off while reader is unaware so tagging dubcon, reader confessing sins/praying gets this freak horny

notes: inspired by rewatching fleabag. hot priest. mmm. patrick hot priest. mmm x2. patrick hot fucked up priest. mmm x3. haven't been to church in like 4 years forgive me for anything inaccurate x

—

Patrick Zweig—or Father Patrick, as you know him—has long since noticed the way the young people of New Rochelle come to him. They do not only seek someone to represent their faith but something more elusive. Perhaps it is because he is younger than most priests. Not old and distant, but in his early thirties at most, with an easy smile and a voice that carries warmth and humour. Young enough to understand the pulse of the town's restless youth but old enough to carry the weight of the Lord's unyielding authority.

The people of the town gravitate towards him for the rare sense of understanding he offers. His sermons aren't just words; they feel like conversations, one between a sinner who has repented inviting them to do the same. It’s raw. Real. Sometimes he thinks they have come to trust him a little too much.

That must be what draws you to him. Conversations in town, staying after service to light candles just to catch a glimpse of him tidying away prayer books or emerging from the sacristy absent of his vestments. The real man behind those robes of faith. 

He’s come to enjoy your company. The shy smiles you offer when he lights a candle next to yours, or the way your pupils dilate when your lips part oh-so-willingly to accept communion from his giving hands. Yes, perhaps it’s not the company itself he likes, but rather the way you look at him as if you’re waiting for his absolution. Not God's. His.

And it comes eventually when you bump into him while walking home after a rough day. Bloodshot eyes, nose running and hands trembling when you choke out a "Father, I must confess. May I come by the Church tomorrow?"

He agrees. What kind of priest would he be to turn away a parishioner in need? He knows that's not why, of course. He enjoys the thrill of command in his sacred space. The silent dominance in your submission. It is a heady feeling to hold power not just as a priest, but as a man standing between your past and your hope for redemption.

"Tell me," he says. "What would you like me to do for you tonight?"

Your hands wring together nervously. The sight makes something stir within him. "I want to feel clean. I want to believe I'm not beyond saving."

"Then you must accept your truth and seek the path towards light. Not by denial, but by courage." He nods towards the booth. Your eyes dart over nervously, but you mimic his nod in wordless assent.

Neither of you speak as you settle in on opposite sides, curtain shut until the sacred and forbidden mingle only in the flickering candlelight beneath the red fabric. He can barely make out the blurry shape of your face through the lattice, and for a moment all he hears is his breathing mixing with your own.

It starts tame. Things like I pretended to be sick to get out of going to work or I've been slacking on my nightly prayers because I've been too lazy before bed. He wants to press, because clearly you did not beg to come to confession just for this. There must be something darker weighing on your soul.

But he forces himself to be patient, interjecting only when necessary to assure you that you are holding yourself accountable and therefore will be cleansed in the eyes of God. Until you utter the words:

"And... and sometimes I touch myself. To relieve the ache within me. I know it is wrong, and I want to stop. To repent."

Blood instantly rushes south at those words. His fingers dig in to his palms so hard it almost feels like his nails would rend his flesh. Such admissions are commonplace in the House of the Lord, and yet hearing you speak them does something to Patrick. His mind wanders to places it shouldn't. He conjures images of you writhing in the silence of your room while your hand seeks that sinful high. 

His nails dig into his skin and he has to inhale through his nose to keep his voice from cracking when he asks, "How often does this ache come upon you?"

It is so quiet in the booth that he can hear your shaky exhale. "Almost every night, Father."

His chest rises and falls heavier as he listens to your confession, his fingers trembling under the fabric of his green cassock. He shouldn't ask. This is your place to confess, but the question slips out anyways:

"And you said you... touch yourself?"

You hesitate. You trust him enough to give him everything. The shame, the fear, the secret part of your soul you dare not speak aloud to anyone else. Attraction. Desire. Truth you're terrified to claim. It reaches into places that Patrick has long since buried beneath years of study and prayer.

He's never had the need to wait so desperately for the next sentence to fall from someone's lips. He feels as though he's hanging on to every word, hand gripping his thigh as he waits for you to continue.

"Yes," you breathe, as if you're picturing it now, too.

"Just to relieve the ache, as you say," he clarifies. This is not something new for him. But you. He’s always been so fond of you and the way you looked up at him with those sweet eyes of yours… 

This is wrong. This is holy ground. He is supposed to guide you, not...

Not what? Want you? Use you? Revel in the control of your secrets?

He remembers his vows, the promise he made to serve God, to resist temptation, to be a vessel of mercy and purity. But in the quiet of the chapel, the lines blur. He holds the power here—the power to condemn or to forgive—and that knowledge intoxicates him like a dark prayer one would utter to a deity that was not his own God.

Patrick wonders, then, can he separate the man from the priest? Can he keep his desire buried beneath the robes and rituals? Or is he already lost in the same darkness you're confessing to, tangled in the very sins he is sworn to save you from?

"May I ask where this ache comes from? If only to understand what you are confessing to."

His heart beats faster. It's not just a spiritual power right now. It's deeply personal, because here you are, a young woman trembling with fear and shame, laying your soul bare behind the veil of confession. And to hold the key to your salvation, or your condemnation, is an all-consuming thing. One that leads his hand to slip down, down, down into the tight confines of his cassocks. Fumbling with buttons to push further until he reaches into his boxers and—

"Well, Father, I... I find myself drawn to… men. Ones that I should not be." Oh. Yes, there it is. A gasp that is not completely in disbelief came from the other side of the confessional as his fingers curl around himself. The quiet of the booth is broken only by your voice and the faint rustle of clothing from across the lattice as he listens intently.

Married men, his brain supplies. Or perhaps someone as unobtainable as him. "Attracted in a way I should not be. I don’t want to feel this way. It’s like a weight inside me, like a stain on my soul. I pray for it to go away, but the feelings grow stronger. I’m scared I’m lost."

"You are not lost," he rasps. "Those thoughts you have... they do not define you. You are a child of God." His breathing is heavy, punctuated by a low, almost choked off groan that he prays you do not acknowledge. "The church teaches us about sin, yes, but also about love and forgiveness. What matters is your heart’s honesty."

He hears you breathe out a shaky sigh. "But I feel so dirty. Like I’m breaking God’s law."

Dirty. Breaking. God. His hand tightens around his cock, stroking up-down, up-down, up-down as your words struggle to find clarity in his head. Dirty dirty dirty. Your voice is so soft, so tinged by despair. He cannot decide whether he wants to save you or ruin you further.

"Sometimes, what we fear most is what we must face." His lip catches between his teeth so hard he can taste the tangible rust of blood on his tongue. "And in confession, you find not judgement, but understanding."

"Do you understand me, Father?"

Yes. Oh, you have no idea how much he understands you. Does God hear the conflict in my heart as clearly as your confession? He wonders. I am a priest. I am meant to forgive. But who forgives me when my own sins are tangled in the shadows?

His other hand grips the wooden screen, nails digging fruitlessly into the timber-stained beech. You may not go to Hell for this, but he certainly will. A servant of God indulging in the sin of lust in his very House of Worship. Patrick's hand picks up faster at just the thought.

"You are not alone, my child." He forces the words out. It comes out strangled, a little too sharp, a crack in the steady command you're used to. His head falls forward until his forehead brushes the screen. Patrick holds onto his weakening composure with gritted teeth.

"The Devil whispers in all our ears, but it is up to us to reject his sinful promises."

"And have you? Rejected his sinful promises?"

In that moment, he wonders if this is a test. One he is failing and too far gone to fix. Patrick lets out a hoarse laugh and doesn’t even try to hide the desperation that seeps into it.

"You have no idea." His breath hitches. His mouth is dry. His eyes burn with something that feels like pain. His cock throbs with something that feels like divine pleasure. "The things I would do to—"

He chokes on his own words. No. You are the one confessing, not him. The room feels like it is spinning and his body thrums with a sinful ache he has not felt in years. The Father he is sworn to serve would not have him succumb to this selfish desire, and yet here he is. He closes his eyes, willing himself to focus on the heavy, burning wood beneath his hand, but all he can picture beneath the screen is you. On your knees, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something about this burning hunger.

"This is a house of prayer, my child." His voice is hoarse. Raw. "I urge you to do the same."

His hand is a blur in his trousers and it's harder and harder to keep his voice steady. "You have not yet given me your penance for these sins."

"So I must pray?"

"Yes. On your knees."

He hears you sink down on floor, forehead pressing into the opposite side of the screen as his. He can only imagine what he would be doing—tasting—if not for the wooden barrier. He feels dizzy. Light-headed.

The weight of the penance he imposes feels like a chain, one you're willing to accept. Because in that submission, you find a flicker of hope. Your hands clasp together in your lap.

"Repeat after me. Our Father—" His breath catches on the word father. He hears you say the words on the other side of the lattice.

"—Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name."

Patrick's hand picks up. Squeezing at the base of his thick length, dragging it up to smear himself in the essence of his own dark desire. He wonders if you can hear the slick slide of his hand around his cock with as much clarity as he does.

"Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread—"

Something that sounds like a moan pushes out from behind the screen. You pause.

"Father? Are you alright?"

"Yes." His answer is too fast, too breathy, but he commands nonetheless: "Keep going."

You continue without him. His eyes are screwed shut as he pumps himself, listening to your sweet voice sing to him like an angel. Temptation personified praying to the Lord who will condemn him for the gratification he is bringing himself right now.

And then, eventually:

"Amen."

That does it for him. Sudden and abrupt, the warmth of his sin spills into his hand, coating his fingers and the inside of his boxers. A pleasure so hot that it feels like it comes from the Seven Hells themselves, vision whiting out as a low groan forces its way out of his throat, raw and guttural.

The silence afterwards is stifling. He takes in ragged breaths that sound more like sobs. It leaves you kneeling in your guilt, heart pounding, unsure what to do next. What was that noise? Was Father Patrick crying? Or was it something else? You swallow thickly.

He slowly slides back onto the bench, running an unsteady hand through his dark hair. "Rise, child." He hears the scuffling of you pushing yourself up to your feet. "God has freed you from your sins. Go in peace."

Silence on the other side of the lattice, before you speak tentatively: "Thank you, Father." You do not thank God. You thank him directly. It should not make him feel as satisfied as it does.

Patrick does not move when he hears the curtain draw, or when your footsteps disappear down the nave. It is only after he hears the distant sound of you blessing yourself in the narthex and the door creaks shut behind you that he rises.

He steps out, inspecting the glistening of his hand in the dying sunlight that peeks through the clerestory. He is stained by guilt, and yet he makes no effort to scrub the evidence from his skin.

Because if he wants to feel clean, truly clean, he must be willing to feel dirty first.

—

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[charlvr]

- the universe's cosmic joke

Pairing. Megan Skiendiel x Reader | Daniela Avanzini x Reader

w.c. 8.0 k

The fans think Megan and Y/N are in love. But Y/N’s heart actually belongs to Daniela. And Daniela? Well… she’s straight.

Falling in love with Daniela was easy. Inevitable. Like tripping on your own feet or realizing the ground beneath you had quietly shifted. You barely noticed it happening until it had already swallowed you whole.

It all began at Dream Academy, a place whose name sounded like a promise whispered on a stage: floodlights, fan chants, and viral stages. In reality, it ran on nerves, endless drills, and the quiet desperation of teenagers trying to become stars before the world forgot them. Every day felt like you were caught in the same nightmare. Long days packed with choreography, vocal training, evaluations, and interviews that never quite let you forget you were being watched. You were always performing, even when the music stopped.

It wasn’t glamorous. It was grueling. You learned how to push through injuries that never fully healed, how to force a smile on two hours of sleep, how to bow and thank every instructor even when you felt like you might shatter. Some days you wondered if it was worth it. Other days you were sure it had to be. Because when the lights would hit the stage, when the footage of your hard work would be replayed back for the world to see, you wanted to be there to catch them. 

The other girls were intimidatingly good. They moved like they were born to dance. Like the music itself had chosen them as its favorite children. But even the best of them couldn’t be compared to Daniela Avanzini. 

Daniela danced like she wasn’t a part of your world. Every movement she made was effortless, every smile perfected, like she’d just rolled out of bed one day and decided, “Yes, today I’ll defy gravity for fun.” 

She was the kind of dancer who didn’t just take up space; she made you forget the floor had limits. You watched her in those first weeks, a spark of awe in your chest that wouldn’t leave. It was everything she did. Every breath she breathed. Even when she was just sitting cross-legged on the floor, adjusting her shoelaces, you could see it in the tilt of her head, the easy grace in her fingers: she couldn’t just dance, she was the dance. 

You, though? You were good. Not great, not world-class, but good. Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror mid-rehearsal, hair plastered to your forehead, eyes wide with determination, face twisted in that half-smile that said you were trying not to let on how much your calves burned, and you’d think, “Hey, not bad.” But then Daniela would glide past you like a summer breeze, and you’d remember, “oh yeah”. She was untouchable.

So when Daniela offered to stay behind and help after a particularly brutal rehearsal, you had half thought she was joking. Or that you were finally hallucinating from the dehydration. 

The rest of the class had long stumbled out like zombies, leaving behind a studio that smelled like sweat and cracked dreams. You were still trying to figure out how to make your foot stop cramping when she had spoken up.

“Want me to walk you through that combo again?” she said, like it was no big deal. Like helping you wasn’t going to cost her precious rest or time.

You blinked. “Me? Really?”

She grinned. “Yeah, you. Unless you’re worried I’m secretly plotting your elimination?”

You laughed, a breathless huff that came out more like a snort, not your finest moment, but Dani just laughed in turn. A big, warm laughter that somehow made your exhaustion feel lighter. 

You stayed, if only to see how things would play out. 

She showed you how to let the music fill you up, how to soften your lines without losing your strength. She corrected your posture with the lightest of touches, gentle yet grounded. And even though she didn’t have to, even though she could have easily just gone back to her dorm and crashed like everyone else, she didn’t. She stayed. 

After that, every late-night practice turned into a ritual: late-night practices when the world outside the studio was dark and still, just you and Daniela and the mirror reflecting your progress in fits and starts. And every time you wanted to quit, she’d find some way to make you laugh: a silly face, a ridiculous story about her first recital costume, a badly timed joke that made you smile simply because she had gone through the trouble of telling it. 

It wasn’t love at first sight. It was better. It was friendship first, late-night giggles in the hallway when you should have been sleeping, shared bites of half-melted protein bars, hugs that always smelled like coconut shampoo and clean sweat. It was something small and steady that grew in the spaces between rehearsals, in the silences when you were too tired to talk.

You hadn’t expected to find a lifeline at Dream Academy, but Daniela was yours. On elimination days, when your name was on the line and your stomach felt like it might implode, you always found her eyes across the room. She’d give you that look. Steady, bright. Like she believed in you more than you believed in yourself.

When homesickness crept in like a fog, it was Daniela who pulled you out of it. She’d find you curled up on the stairs, phone clutched like a lifeline, and plop down beside you. “Want to talk about it?” she’d ask, and sometimes you’d say no. She’d just sit with you anyway, humming little snippets of pop songs that had no right to be that catchy.

And when your name was called in the finale, when the world blurred into lights and noise and you thought your heart might beat right out of your chest, it was Daniela you ran to. Because she was the one who made you believe you could get there at all. And Dani? She hugged you so tightly that night you thought your ribs might crack. It was the best pain you’d ever felt.

—

Of course, your feelings only grew as time went on. 

Because there were seven of you in Katseye, someone had to draw the short straw and end up in the three-person room. You, Dani, and Manon ended up sharing. Honestly? You were kind of relieved. If it had just been the two of you, you probably would have combusted by now. Daniela in pajamas? Daniela brushing her teeth with a little dance sway? You were not built for that level of proximity. You had a dignity quota to maintain, and sharing a bedroom with just her would have drained it completely.

Still, you were content. Totally, wholly, tragically content just crushing on Daniela from afar. You had a ten-year plan: get more confident, improve your freestyle, learn how to flirt without buffering like a dial-up connection. Then maybe, just maybe, you’d be brave enough to tell her. But for now? You were happy just to watch her in stolen moments, hands brushing in crowded hallways, laughter echoing in the spaces you shared.

Then the Weverse Live happened.

It started out harmless, a silly distraction in a hotel room that smelled like stale air and overpriced soap. The group had gotten a break between events, everyone scattered across several rooms. Manon and Lara had taken up residence at the foot of Manon’s bed, turning it into their own private talk show. They answered fan questions with effortless charm, laughing so loudly Yoonchae had to send them several threatening texts to be quieter. Daniela drifted in and out, appearing on camera whenever the mood struck her.

You watched the live from your phone, the next room over, a smoothie balanced in your lap, pretending you weren’t just watching for Daniela. No, this was about supporting all your friends. Obviously.

Manon squinted at her phone dramatically, eyes lighting up at a particular one, “Okay, here’s a good one,” she said, a smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth, “Any rumors you girls want to debunk?”

Before Lara could even pretend to be scandalized, Daniela popped her head into the camera frame. Her hair was still damp from the shower, the natural curls somehow still alive despite management’s ruthless attempts to flatten it into submission. Spirals framed her face, soft and a little wild, and you had to remind yourself to blink. Daniela was grinning like she’d just found out breakfast was served until noon. “Yeah,” she said, throwing her hands up with fake exasperation. “That I’m gay. Enough with the gay allegations!”

Manon and Lara lost it, clapping and squealing like she’d just announced world peace. Their laughter was so loud you could hear it through the wall separating your two rooms, and the string of curses that left Yoonchae’s mouth had you clutching your pearls, “Congratulations!” Manon and Lara hooted, the fans similarly losing their minds in the chat.

“Wow. You're so brave.” 

You, on the other hand, had dropped your smoothie. The plastic cup wobbling and falling with a sad little splat on the floor, smoothie splattering across your bare toes. Because that? That might have been the one variable you hadn’t prepared for. 

You’d accounted for all the usual things:  the slow burn of unrequited feelings, the fear of rejection, the endless “what ifs” that kept you up at night. But the “not even in the same ballpark” revelation? Yeah, that one slipped through the cracks.

You tried to act normal. Held it together for a few days, which you figured deserved some kind of medal. Chalked it up to pride. Dignity. Delusion.

It worked, until it didn’t.

Eventually, you cracked and wound up outside Lara’s door, full meltdown mode, hoodie pulled over your head like that would somehow soften the blow.

The girl opened the door with her usual calm: face mask in place, hair wrapped in a towel, her expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Don’t even start,” she said, before you could even open your mouth.

You didn’t bother with a greeting, just trudging in and flopping onto her bed like it was your own, “This group is full of gay people,” you groaned, burying your face into her pillows, “How did I manage to fall for the only straight one?

Lara snorted, peeling off her mask. The door softly shut behind her with a muted click, “Pretty sure it’s just you and me, babe.”

You peek through your fingers, cheeks on fire, “Really? Just us?”

“Tragically,” she said, wiping away the last of the mask. Then, a pause, “Well… actually—”

The door swung open and Megan suddenly stepped in, a lint roller in one hand. Upon seeing you, she paused in the doorway, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene: you flopped across Lara’s bed and Lara unbothered as always.

Megan’s eyes flicked over you for a fraction of a second before she looked away. Her mouth pulled into a polite smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

“Uh… am I interrupting something?” she asked, her voice careful. Neutral. Like she was weighing her words in her head before they even reached her mouth.

Lara shot you a look that said, Don’t say anything weird, before she turned back to her roommate, innocent grin and all. “Nope. Just girl talk.”

You pushed yourself up too quickly, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Yearning? That wasn’t a crime, “Hi, Megan,” you said, your voice cracking with the effort to sound casual.

“Hey.” She shifted her weight, eyes darting to the lint roller in her hand like she’d forgotten why she was there at all. She barely glanced at you again, like it was easier not to see you at all.

“I’m just grabbing the lint roller,” she said, her tone clipped.

You almost pointed out she already had one but bit it back. Lara, of course, saved the day. She reached behind her and tossed Megan another lint roller without a word.

Megan caught it, fingers toying with the handle like she needed something, anything, to do with her hands. For a moment, she just stood there. Two lint rollers, one awkward silence, and the kind of pause that felt heavier than it had any right to.

 It looked like she was about to say something more. You swore she was. But then she looked away, her mouth pulling into that polite little smile you’d seen too many times. The kind that always felt like a door gently shutting in your face.

“Thanks,” she said, a little too flat to pass as casual. “Well… I’ll see you both in the morning, I guess.” She lingered in the doorway half a second longer, like the air itself had a grip on her sleeve. And then she turned, disappearing into the hall with a soft click of the door.

You blinked. The weirdness of it all clinging to your skin like static. It almost felt like she’d rather crash on the floor outside than share a room with you.

Lara let out a small laugh, the sound muffled by a hand. “Wow. You scared Megan away,” she said, voice light, teasing. “Didn’t even know that was possible.”

You groaned and flopped deeper into her comforter like you could disappear into the stitching. “I swear, she hates me,” you muttered. “Every time she’s near me, she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lara said, rolling her eyes. “Megan doesn’t hate you.”

She nudged you with her foot. You grumbled a half-hearted “Hey!” and before you could fully protest, she yanked a pillow from behind you and smacked you with it.

“Now can you get your dramatic ass back to your own room? Some of us have practice tomorrow, and I’d like to survive it.”

You groaned louder, attempting to hide beneath the blankets. “Your friend is in emotional ruin and you kick her out. Say you hate me!”

Lara just laughed harder and shoved you off her comforter. “You’re being ridiculous,” she said, ignoring the pleading look you gave her. “But I love you, anyway. Now seriously—out, before Megan comes back.”

You dragged yourself upright with the full theatrics of teenage heartbreak and shuffled toward the door, still muttering quiet curses of “betrayal” and “injustice” under your breath. 

When you slipped back into your own room, Daniela was still awake, curled up on her bed with her phone resting on her knees. She looked up as you entered, concern flickering in her eyes. Manon was nowhere to be found. Just you, Daniela, and the echo of your pitiful dignity.

“Hey,” Daniela said softly, setting her phone aside. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly, the smile you offered feeling all wrong, tight and shaky, like it had been assembled in a rush. “Yeah. I’m great,” you thought, miserably. Just in love with you. Ha ha. No big deal.

She sat up a little straighter, watching you with those wide, painfully sincere eyes that always made lying feel like a crime. “Are you sure? You look kind of…” She trailed off, clearly trying to find a word softer than wrecked. “Tired.”

You let out a laugh that pitched too high and landed nowhere good. “I’m fine,” you said, waving a hand like that would dismiss the gnawing ache in your chest. “Just a long day. A stupid one.” Then, quieter: “Thanks, though.”

But she didn’t look away.

“If there’s anything I can do, seriously. I don’t mind.”

You tried to hold her gaze but couldn’t. The kindness in her voice made it worse, like it was peeling away all the armor you’d so carefully duct-taped together. “No, I’m okay. Really.” I mean, unless you want to start liking girls, but no pressure.

She gave you a soft smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eye, but still, she nodded. “Alright. Well, I’m here. If you need me.”

You mumbled a quiet “thanks,” and crawled into bed, curling under your blanket like it might make everything less loud, less sharp.

Because yeah, things were going great. Just you, your hopeless crush, and the universe’s favorite ongoing joke.

And it was almost as if the universe took your thoughts as a personal challenge.

—

The day of the magazine interview arrived with about all the fanfare you’d expect: bright lights, meticulous outfits, and the kind of backstage chaos that made you wish you could evaporate into the nearest wardrobe rack. It wasn’t your first group interview, far from it, but today felt like the universe had gotten bored and decided you would be its favorite chew toy.

Because somehow, for reasons that remained unclear and deeply unfair, you were seated right next to Megan. Meanwhile, Daniela—the love of your life, in case the universe forgot—was at the other end of the couch, practically sharing a cushion with Lara. You tried not to take it personally, but the cosmic targeting felt a little obvious.

Of course Lara noticed immediately. She locked eyes with you across the room, her grin already criminal,  as if to say, “Haha, loser. Jealous?” You glared back with all the energy of a jilted CW side character, mouthing, “There’s no loyalty anymore.” She just winked.

You sank lower into the couch. Daniela was laughing at something Lara had said, her head thrown back in that easy, airy way she had. You tried to mask the bitterness creeping up your throat.

Next to you, Megan sat like she’d been carved out of stone. Perfect posture. Perfect composure. And the kind of silence that felt too loud. You kept sneaking glances at her, wondering if she was still thinking about how you’d basically melted down in her room the night before. She didn’t look your way once.

Desperate to fill the silence, you cleared your throat. “So… uh, how’s your morning been?” you asked, voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the others.

She startled slightly, like she hadn’t expected you to speak. “Oh. Fine,” she said, stiff and overly polite. She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, eyes flicking to the camera crew setting up across the room. “Yours?”

You shrugged. “Same. Just… you know. Trying to look awake.”

A small smile ghosted across her lips but vanished before it could settle. “Yeah. Same,” she said again

And that was it. Silence returned with a vengeance, awkward enough it practically had its own zip code. You couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable because she hated you or because you’d made a complete fool of yourself the night before. Probably both. 

Mercifully, the producer called for quiet as the interview began, and you were pardoned from your suffering. The interview was simple enough, questions about training, group dynamics, upcoming releases: stuff you were used to by now. You smiled when you were supposed to. You answered like you’d practiced. Always mindful of the camera.  

But then the interviewer tilted their head, eyes flicking between you and Megan with a smile too curious for comfort, and you suddenly felt the creeping suspicion that everything was about to go downhill from here, “Megan and Y/N. You two are seated together today, a pairing we don’t usually see. Have you gotten closer recently? The fans are really curious.”

It was the kind of question meant to be harmless. We’ve always been close. Everyone is like family. Easy. Done. Perfectly on brand. But for you, it detonated on impact.

“Uh—no, not really,” you blurted, too fast, too honest. You winced. Great start. Management was going to be real happy about this one. 

Megan straightened beside you, already in PR mode. “No—well, yes, actually,” she rushed to clarify. “I mean, we’re all close. Everyone in Katseye is like family. We’ve been spending time together after practices… and stuff.”

“Oh—right, yes,” you stammered, hoping desperately you could salvage your answer, “We are friends. I didn’t mean ‘not’ as in ‘not.’ We hang out. I go to Megan’s room all the time!”

You paused. Just a moment. Your brain caught up.

“Or—actually, not all the time. Just… sometimes. A normal amount. Like anyone would. Definitely nothing weird—no sharing beds or anything!” Haha. Why did you say that?

You were fumbling this. Bad. You knew it. And judging by the way Megan’s head whipped toward you, mouth falling open in pure horror, so did she.

“We don’t share a bed!” she blurted, alarmed. “That’s not—we just talk! After practice. About choreography. And… group things. Completely normal, totally platonic group things.”

From the other end of the couch, Lara let out a noise that might’ve been a snort or a cough or both. Daniela’s smile twitched, eyes flicking toward you.

You and Megan tried to talk at the same time. Jumbled sentences. Overlapping excuses. Too many words and not enough sense.

“Just—like—” “It’s not—”

The interviewer laughed and moved on, but the damage was done. You could already feel it: that clip was going to haunt you forever.

And sure enough, when the video went live, the internet did what the internet always does. It latched on and refused to let go. The clip of you and Megan babbling about not sharing a bed? Instantly viral. Set to every soft-focus romantic audio known to humankind. #MegY/N trending within the hour.

And the captions? Absolutely ruthless.

“They’re so bad at hiding it. I’m obsessed.” “Why did she even bring up sharing a bed unprompted? Suspicious!” “This is either a romance or the world’s most awkward friendship. Either way, I’m here for it.”

You turned off your phone. Buried yourself under your blanket. Tried not to scream into your pillows.

Everything was fine. Totally fine. Just a crush you hadn’t gotten over and a ship name you didn’t ask for. 

Perfect.

—

As expected, management was all over it the next day. It was almost laughably predictable: pulled aside after rehearsal, muscles sore and clothes still damp with sweat, you and Megan were ushered into the small “quick chat” room like kids being sent to the principal’s office.

You exchanged a glance, hers tight-lipped and yours halfway between apology and panic, before following one of your managers inside.

He was already beaming, practically vibrating with excitement. “So, that little moment in the interview,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Fans are obsessed. You two are trending everywhere. It’s perfect for the group.”

You shifted uncomfortably, sweat cooling on your back. “Right,” you said, trying to sound casual. “We noticed.”

Megan gave a single, clipped nod, eyes fixed on the loose thread she was now aggressively unraveling on her sleeve. It was a miracle that the sweatshirt didn’t fall apart on the spot. 

“Here’s the idea,” the manager continued, voice too chipper for your taste. “Obviously, nothing you’re uncomfortable with. But you two? You’ve got this natural dynamic. We want to lean into that.”

You blinked. Natural. Right. “Lean into it how?”

“Nothing scripted,” he said. “Just... hang out. Get coffee. Wander around. Be friends in public. If fans spot you, great. If not, no big deal. Just... be yourselves, but maybe with a little extra awareness of the cameras. That cool?”

Your stomach gave a nervous twist, not liking where this was going, “So...  you want us to play into the ship.”

“Exactly!” he said, hands clapping together like he’d just solved climate change, and not like he was suggesting borderline queerbaiting, “No pressure. Just visibility.”

You nodded, more in acknowledgement than anything. You did not want to do this. You really, really did not want to — “Yeah. Okay.” You heard yourself say, anyway.  

Your manager gave you a satisfied grin. He turned to Megan. “And you?”

She hesitated, a beat longer than you had, before nodding. “Sure,” she finally said, voice level but far away. “That’s… fine.”

“Perfect!” You were pretty certain the man had never looked happier, watching as he all but skipped out of the room. “Can’t wait to see how it plays! And remember, you’re just selling the idea!” He was gone before you could get another word in. 

You and Megan lingered behind for a second, neither of you quite believing what just happened. You turned towards the girl, hoping to catch her expression, but she simply gave you her signature tight, unreadable smile and a shrug, one that felt entirely too ingenuine. 

“We… can figure something out later.” She muttered, low and rushed, before turning away and leaving.

You wanted to ask if she was really okay with this PR stunt, but the question caught somewhere behind your tongue and never made it out. The only thing you could do was sigh. 

—

Later that night, you found yourself in Lara’s room again, flopped on her bed while she sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone. Almost like you being here hadn’t been the cause of your current predicament—well, that and your own big mouth.

“Wow,” Lara said, smirking without looking up. “If I’d known fans would go this crazy for a sapphic relationship, I would have started flirting with you ages ago.”

You shot her a flat look, not understanding how she could joke in a time like this, “This is serious, Lara.  How could they ship me with Megan? We barely talk!”

“Well, the two of you certainly had a lot to say during that interview.” Lara responded, snickering as she came across yet another fan edit of MegY/N. 

“I think my manifestation went wrong. It’s the wrong dancer, universe. It’s supposed to be me and Daniela, please. Me and Daniela.”

Lara cackled, tossing a pillow at your face. “Well, you didn’t exactly help with that ‘not sharing a bed’ comment.”

You groaned, muffling your face against the pillow with renewed conviction. “I swear, Megan probably thinks I’m an idiot. And worst of all, I might never have a chance with Daniela now.”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “Mmm, yes. I’m sure that’s why. Not, say... because Daniela’s straight.”

You shot her a dirty look. “I don’t know why I even come to you for help.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Because I’m the only one who’ll listen to your gay panic and still think you’re not a total loser? Because I’m wise beyond comparison? Who else would you even go to about your gay problems? Daniela—oh wait.” 

You threw the pillow back at her. She caught it easily, one-handed, grinning.

“Oh come on, it could be worse.”

Your muffled ‘not really’ was met with a dip in the bed as Lara climbed in with you. “I mean, think of it this way. Maybe you and Megan actually get along. Maybe Daniela might even get a little jealous.”

The idea made your ears perk and you sat up a little. “You think?”

Lara immediately burst out laughing. “No! She’s straight.”

You collapsed back onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. “I’M TRYING TO FORGET THAT.”

Yeah. You were in deep.

—

You had half hoped the whole MegY/N situation would blow over before management decided to chase you down for more content. But it was funny how long a 20-second clip of you and Megan babbling about not sharing a bed could keep the gay eyekons fed. And it wasn’t long before management sent both of you a “reminder” to hang out (code for give us something to work with). Not explicit, but heavily implied.

And with your luck, the “hang out” immediately started on the wrong foot. You’d mixed up the meeting time and ended up arriving at the café a full half hour late. For ten minutes, you’d paced outside, pretending you weren’t checking your phone every two seconds. Meanwhile, Megan had been there early, sitting inside, convinced you’d stood her up. When you finally rushed in, flushed and apologetic, she gave you a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Now you were perched on a rickety stool in a coffee shop, staring at Megan across the wobbly table. You wondered if it was possible for a coffee shop to be too curated. Everything looked like it had been picked out of a Pinterest board: tiny succulents in mason jars, handwritten chalkboard menus, and baristas who looked like they had deep thoughts about oat milk.

Megan looked like she was part of a magazine spread herself. Perfectly straight posture, hair tucked behind her ear, expression calm and polite. Too polite. You couldn’t tell if she was genuinely uncomfortable or just very good at pretending she wasn’t.

“So,” you said, grasping for anything to keep the conversation alive. “This place is… cute, right?”

She glanced around, her eyes flicking over the hanging Edison bulbs and carefully distressed furniture. “Sure,” she said, her voice so neutral it could have been a compliment or a eulogy.

You tried again. “I read somewhere they roast their own beans. Or something. I don’t really get coffee stuff, but it’s supposed to be fancy.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, just slightly. “You don’t get coffee stuff?” she repeated.

“I’m more of a ‘whatever’s cheapest’ kind of person,” you admitted, heat rising in your cheeks. That did not sound cool. “But I thought it would be a good place for… you know. The whole PR thing.”

She was quiet for a beat, fingers idly fidgeting with the cardboard sleeve on her cup. “Do you come here a lot, or did you just find it on some blog?”

You let out a relieved laugh. “Definitely a blog. My entire knowledge of ‘cool places’ is secondhand from other people’s Instagram stories.”

A small, genuine laugh escaped her then. It was soft, but it cracked the careful politeness she’d been wearing like armor. “At least you’re honest,” she said.

“Yeah, well, honesty’s the only thing I’m good at,” you responded, half joking but mostly sincere.

She looked at you for a long moment, her gaze steady and a little too intense. Then she took a breath. “You’re good at a lot of things,” she said quietly, so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

Your heart did a weird little flip, but before you could figure out what to say, she straightened up and the moment was gone. Silence stretched between you, awkward and heavy.

You cleared your throat. “So… I read somewhere that silence between people who don’t know each other is more awkward than between people who do. Does that mean we’re not friends, or…?”

Her lips curved, like she was trying not to laugh. “Are you really trying to turn this into a social experiment?”

You threw your hands up. “I’m desperate here! I don’t want management to think we’re hostages in a coffee shop. They might make us redo this whole thing.”

That got a real laugh out of her, one that brightened her eyes and made you feel like maybe you weren’t completely failing. “Alright,” she said. “Maybe we should change the setting.”

“Change of scenery?” you asked, hopeful.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here before I end up memorizing the entire chalkboard menu,” she said, finally pushing her cup away.

You jumped up like you’d been waiting for permission. “Arcade? There’s one a few blocks away. More neon, less… quiet.”

She gave you a small nod. “Let’s go.”

The arcade was everything the coffee shop wasn’t—loud, chaotic, unapologetically alive. The air buzzed with the scent of popcorn and electricity, neon lights blinking like they were trying to communicate in Morse code, and some ancient pop song pounded through blown-out speakers. It was the kind of overstimulation that felt, oddly, like peace. Here, silence wasn’t expected, and small talk didn’t matter.

Megan’s shoulders eased, just a little, as she watched you flit from machine to machine like a kid on too much sugar. There was something quietly fond about the way she trailed after you. Like she was letting herself get pulled into your orbit.

“Look at this one,” you said, stopping in front of a claw machine. Inside, a small lion plush was pressed tragically against the glass, its stitched eyes wide with betrayal. It was the kind of thing you knew Daniela would love. You pointed dramatically. “I have to win this.”

Megan raised an eyebrow, amused. Clearly not as captivated by the lion as you were, “Seriously? That thing? You’re really going to spend all your money on that?”

“Absolutely,” you said, already digging through your pockets for change like a woman possessed.

Megan just hummed, clearly filing that little fact away somewhere deep in her mental archives. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

You did not, in fact, have anything.

Your first attempt was a disaster. The claw swerved dramatically to the left, missed the plush by a full plushie-length, and slammed into the bottom of the machine with a metallic thud.

“Wow,” Megan deadpanned. “Inspiring.”

“I was testing the calibration!” you insisted. “That was a warm-up round.”

It didn’t get better. Try after try, the claw juked away from the lion like it was in a rom-com and the timing just wasn’t right.

After the fifth failed attempt, you groaned in despair and handed Megan the last few coins. “I’m cursed. You do it.”

She looked skeptical. “You really want me to waste your money too?”

“Maybe you’re secretly a claw machine prodigy,” you said, already stepping back with a flourish. “Let’s see what you’ve got, champ.”

She rolled her eyes, but took the coins. Her fingers brushed yours for just a second—barely enough to register, but still enough to make your stomach do a dumb little flip.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m blaming you when this goes horribly wrong.”

“I’ll take full financial responsibility,” you said solemnly.

As she lined up the claw, your phone buzzed. One glance at the screen made your stomach clench.

Dani: Where are you? We’re supposed to be going over the new routine.

You winced. Crap.

You: Sorry! I forgot. PR assignment. I’ll catch you up later.

You slipped the phone back into your pocket, guilt gnawing at your chest. You didn’t know how you had even let the rehearsal slip your mind: not when it was you and Daniela’s thing. But the morning had been so hectic with trying to meet up with Megan that you’d gotten lost in the chaos. 

Daniela would understand. Right?

You shook the thought off and looked back to Megan—who was now engaged in what could only be described as psychological warfare with the claw machine.

Her jaw was set, her brows knit together in intense concentration. She muttered to herself like she was casting a spell and jabbed the joystick like she was ready to pick a fight. You watched as her claw missed the lion, and she smacked the side of the machine hard enough to make it groan.

“This piece of trash,” she growled, shoving in another coin. “Come on, you useless tin can.”

You blinked. Had she just growled?

“Whoever built this thing deserves to be haunted by every plush it’s ever eaten,” she muttered. “I will curse your bloodline. I will end your legacy. I will make you pay.”

You watched, equal parts horrified and fascinated. You’d never seen Megan like this: so alive, so real. So far away from the awkward, always impersonal Megan she was around you. It was… kind of adorable.

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “This machine is rigged, and I will burn it down with my mind.”

You laughed, really laughed, and for a second, Megan almost looked embarrassed. Almost. But the fire in her eyes didn’t dim.

“You’re really… passionate about this aren’t you,” you said, hands raised. “It’s kind of cute.”

The word slipped out before you could stop it, and the moment it did, you wanted to crawl into the claw machine and live there forever. It wasn’t like Megan could you drag you out of there, anyways. 

Megan flushed. Her cheeks actually turned pink. You half expected her to ignore your comment, or maybe roll her eyes in response. But to your surprise, she didn’t look away.

“You’re weird,” she finally said, quietly.

You smiled, not apologetic, just honest, “Well. Takes one to know one, I guess,”

And for the first time that day, she cracked a real smile—really smiled. Not the polite, press-trained half-curve, but something warm and real and almost shy.

You pulled out your phone and snapped a photo before you could overthink it: the two of you standing in front of the cursed claw machine, Megan still a little pink-faced, you grinning like a maniac, and the lion still tragically out of reach.

You sent it to the team group chat with the caption: $70 and no lion, but at least we didn’t kill each other.

Megan looked at the photo, then at you. “Think that’s enough to keep management happy?”

You grinned. “Absolutely not.”

“Do you think we look like idiots in that photo?”

“Yes, we absolutely do.”

And for the second time that day, Megan smiled back, no polite pretense, no carefully practiced grin. Just a real smile. And you thought, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

—

You returned to your room that evening, feeling a strange mix of relief and giddiness humming under your skin. Your cheeks still ached from laughing too hard, your stomach from too much terrible pizza and even worse soda. The day had started with you wanting to melt into the floor, but somehow, against all odds, you and Megan had clawed (literally) your way into something almost… fun.

You were still turning that thought over in your head when you stepped inside to find Daniela sitting cross-legged on her bed, her laptop perched on her knees.She looked up immediately, eyes sharp with mischief.

“Well, well,” she said, her grin downright devilish. “There’s the cheater.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Cheat on you? Never.”

Daniela rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t budge. “You sure about that? Because according to the internet, you and Megan are in a very committed relationship.”

She spun the laptop around.

You crossed the room, curiosity getting the better of you, and leaned in to see. Sure enough, there they were: blurry photos of you and Megan at the café, the arcade, even a few of you walking in the park afterwards, all carefully captioned with things like “MegY/N in the wild?” and “soft couple vibes???”

There were even a few that made you laugh.

“Y/N touching grass?” “Rare shut in spotted.”

Those not so much. 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God. How do they even find us?” You and Megan hadn’t seen a single fan the whole day, and you’d been trying. Turns out, you didn’t have to. 

Daniela chuckled, low and amused. “You’re famous, remember? Our fans have eyes.” She glanced back at the screen. “You two looked like you were having fun, though.”

“Yeah,” you paused. “It actually… wasn’t too bad. Megan wasn’t how I expected.”

“Oh?” Daniela’s voice was light, but you thought you heard something else, something just below the surface. She tilted her head, studying you like she was trying to see past your words. “That’s good.”

But there was something in the way she said it that made you pause. Just a slight shift in her tone. A note you couldn’t name. You looked up at her. Her expression was still open, still warm, but suddenly you couldn’t quite read her. If there was anything else there, it was buried under that easy smile.

You leaned in a little, still peering at the laptop, and didn’t realize how close you’d gotten until your arms were braced on either side of her legs. Close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin and for a second the world felt very small and very warm, just the two of you pressed close together, breathing in the same pocket of air.

And then Daniela spoke, breaking the spell with a soft smile. “So the date went well?”

You let out a short, breathy laugh, the tension slipping away like water. “Gods, no. It started as a complete disaster,” you said, shaking your head. “Like, I was late, and Megan was there all early and composed and just… totally not impressed. I thought she was going to kill me.”

Daniela laughed, a bright, familiar sound that always made the air feel lighter. “I can’t even picture Megan wanting to murder anyone. She seems so… calm.”

“You’d think,” you said, grinning now. “But then we got to the arcade and something snapped. She went full gremlin mode over this claw machine. Like—threat-level. I thought she was going to break the glass.”

Daniela tilted her head, eyes dancing. “A gremlin?”

“She cursed at it. Threatened the inventor’s bloodline. I was honestly afraid for my life.”

Daniela shook her head, still smiling. “Sounds like you had an eventful day.”

“Yeah.” You glanced at her, softer this time. “It was… a day.”

For a moment, the room settled into a gentle quiet. Not awkward, not tense. Just still. You watched her, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way she was always so unapologetically her. It was easy, being around Daniela. Even when everything else was loud and confusing, she wasn’t.

But you knew better than to say anything. You weren’t here to blur the lines. You weren’t going to be that person. Not now. Not when she was still looking at you with that familiar, easy affection and no idea how badly you wanted it to mean something more, “What about you? Any major developments while I was out playing claw machine therapist?”

She rolled her eyes and shut her laptop with a click. “Just practice. Nothing exciting.”

“Sorry for missing our rehearsal.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was light, but not dismissive. “You can make it up to me some other time.”

You gave her a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed, and for a moment, you let yourself have this—just the sound of it, just the feeling of her next to you, just the impossible, ridiculous hope curling somewhere low in your chest.

Even if it didn’t mean anything to Daniela.

—

The weeks after that day blurred together. Management had seen the fan frenzy from that first outing and decided to run with it. Every live stream seating chart seemed to get suspiciously shuffled until you and Megan were always next to each other. In group pictures, you found yourselves shoulder to shoulder, and you had a sneaking suspicion that every “team-building exercise” was really just an excuse to get more MegY/N moments on camera.

But you didn’t mind. Not really. Because somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a PR stunt and started feeling… easy.

At first, it was just the little things. Like how Megan would lean in a little closer than she had to when you showed her something on your phone, her head tilting in that curious way that made your breath catch for no good reason. Or how she’d laugh at your dumb jokes, not the polite, clipped laugh she gave strangers, but the real kind that made her shoulders shake and her eyes squint shut.

You discovered that Megan was so much more than the polite, reserved girl you’d thought. She was spontaneous in the weirdest, best ways. She’d drag you out of the dorm on a rainy night just because she had a sudden craving for convenience store ramen, and you’d end up in a cramped little shop at midnight, eating noodles straight out of the cup and trying not to wake the sleeping neighborhood with your laughter. She’d burst out laughing at the worst times, her giggles turning into tears like you’d unlocked some secret level of her. She’d turn group practice breaks into impromptu karaoke contests, belting out songs in a voice that was way better than yours but somehow didn’t make you feel small. 

And in those moments, it struck you how different it felt from Daniela.

Daniela was all warmth and quiet reassurance. The kind of person whose laughter was like a promise: bright, steady, soft around the edges. With Daniela, you felt grounded, safe. Like no matter how badly you stumbled, she’d be there to catch you with a smile and a gentle hand.

Megan was different. She was loud in all the ways that counted, and she pulled you along with her. She was unafraid to be ridiculous, to be too much. She made you feel alive, like you were burning bright and fast and somehow it was okay to let the world see you that way.

And you loved it. You loved how she didn’t look at you like you were weird when you started rambling about the conspiracy theories you’d read online. You loved how she didn’t care if you babbled about random facts or threw out terrible puns, instead choosing to match you word for word, joke for joke, always a willing accomplice in your nonsense.

It got to the point where you couldn’t even remember why you’d been scared of her. Megan wasn’t intimidating or distant; she was a puppy in human form, all bright eyes and wagging tail. She was so full of life it made your chest ache in the best way.

But it wasn’t always like that. Megan had her quiet moments too. There were days when the light in her eyes dimmed, when she’d retreat into herself like she was drawing her energy inward to keep from burning out completely. She never said anything was wrong, but you could feel it in the way her shoulders curled inward, in the way she’d let her phone sit silent and forgotten beside her.

At first, you didn’t know what to do with those moments. With Daniela, quiet moments were natural, comforting. But with Megan, it felt like a puzzle. You’d crack another joke, try to fill the quiet like you always did, but it didn’t always land. So you learned to stop pushing. You’d sit with her, shoulders pressed together, your own chatter quieting to a gentle hum. Sometimes you’d hand her your phone and let her swipe through memes in silence. Sometimes you’d just sit there, your foot nudging hers every so often to remind her you were still there.

One night after a group live, you both ended up on the practice room floor, backs pressed against the mirrored wall. Megan had her head tipped back, eyes closed, and for a long while neither of you said a word.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice careful.

She cracked one eye open and smiled faintly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

You didn’t push. You just offered her a quiet smile and let the moment sit between you. 

It became a rhythm. Loud and soft. Bright laughter and quiet spaces. You’d match her giggles with your own when she was on, and you’d match her stillness with your own when she was off.

And it was in those moments that you realized how much you’d started to care. 

It had been after an impromptu photoshoot at the park (complete with management’s not-so-subtle “just look natural” stage directions), you found yourselves sprawled out on a patch of grass, the late afternoon sun turning Megan’s hair into gold. She was quiet again, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the grass.

You reached over and plucked a blade of grass from her hair. “You’ve got a whole ecosystem in there,” you teased, “I think I saw a ladybug crawl in.”

She cracked a smile, small but real. “I’m going to pretend you’re kidding, for my own sake.” she said, her voice warm but tired.

You just grinned and let your hand rest there for a second, fingers brushing her hair before you pulled back. “Don’t worry, I redirected all the insects away.”

It was silly. And dumb. And ridiculous. And it didn’t matter.

Megan laughed, eyes squinting and teeth showing, her whisker dimples appearing. And your own smile was inevitable.

You knew it in that moment and every other after: you were so, incredibly screwed.

The universe was laughing at you now.

_

two direction for this story to go, pick your poison

listen to. n/a. wrote this with a can of Celsius and a dream

[starryjake]

take care of you | b.e

in which ej can’t sleep and turns to you for help.

pairing: euijoo x fem!reader

includes: consensual somnophilia, dry humping, fingering, handjob, intercourse, unprotected sex, cumming inside, (lmk if i missed anything).

-

ej felt awful. he was exhausted, he was sweaty, and worst of all, he was hard.

he looked over to his right to find you sound asleep, your back facing him. how you were sleeping in the dead middle of summer heat was beyond him, but you made it look so easy.

he tossed and turned, trying to get in a comfortable position, but nothing was comfortable. not with how uncomfortable he felt in his skin at that moment.

he tried pressing himself against you, thinking maybe he’d be able to sleep better with you in his embrace, but it only made him harder. the way your ass nestled perfectly against his erection.

eventually, ej tore himself away from you and stripped out of his t-shirt. he immediately felt better, cooler.

he lied flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. he was tired, but still he couldn’t fall asleep.

his erection was straining against his shorts, clear and as obvious as day. he glanced over to you again, ensuring you were still asleep, then slowly brought a hand down to his cock, over the shorts.

he squeezed his length slightly, sighing at the relief. it wasn’t much, but it was something. he looked over at you again, staring at your body as he dragged his hand up his length and back down.

his eyes scanned your pretty sleeping body. all you had on was a little pair of white shorts and a matching white tank top. ej thought you looked like an actual angel.

“baby,” he called out softly. “are you awake?”

no response. you were out like a light.

he sighed, then released his grasp on his covered erection. he wasn’t going to jerk off with you sleeping right next to him. he couldn’t.

so, he attempted to fall asleep again. he turned on his side and closed his eyes. nothing. he pressed himself against you again, sliding his arm over your stomach and holding you tight.

it felt like cuddling with a furnace. you were both hot. your tank top stuck to ej’s bare chest from sweat.

ej inhaled the scent of you shampoo, running his large hand up and down your stomach. he couldn’t help the way his cock dug right into your ass and how good even the slightest bit of pressure felt.

testing, he pushed his hips forward and bit his lip to restrain the moan threatening to leave his mouth. it felt good. you felt good.

you both had talked about it before, doing things in your sleep. both of you were intrigued by the idea, and both of you gave each other permission. so, ej thought, why not.

he tightened his grip around your waist, still being cautious not to wake you up, though. he pushed his hips forward again, burying his face into the back of your neck and sighing against your warm skin.

he started peppering soft kisses around your neck, kisses that gradually became harder the more he thrusted against you. he eventually started sliding his hand down from your stomach and into your shorts.

“mmm,” he hummed softly, spreading your legs slightly so he could get a better angle to dry-hump you. “you’re so good, baby.”

you shifted a little, but still weren’t awake yet.

ej found your clit and began rubbing you in little circles, getting you nice and wet. he huffed against your neck, feeling his pre-cum leaking through the fabric of his shorts. he was so turned on.

eventually, he pushed your shorts to the side and slid his fingers down to the bottom of your pussy and then back to the top, gathering your wetness that had formed, even with you being fast asleep.

he slid his middle finger into your tight hole, burying it there inside you. then, he used his thumb to keep rubbing your clit, and by then, it was getting hard to stay asleep.

ej continued to dry hump you, eventually not noticing how hard he was going. he just needed to feel good and at that point, if you woke up, so be it.

you suddenly squeezed your thighs around his hand and planted a firm hand on his wrist, stopping him from fingering you.

“fuck,” he exhaled, immediately pausing all movements.

“ej?” you called out, confused and dazed.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he said, slowly pulling his hand away from your drenched cunt.

“what’s going on?” you asked, your voice so soft and sleepy that ej twitched in his pants.

“nothing, sweetheart,” he replied, petting your hair. you looked up at him with big, tired eyes, blinking in confusion. “i just couldn’t sleep.”

“why not?” you wondered, turning your body so you were facing him instead.

“i don’t know,” he lied. “it’s just hot in here, so maybe that.”

with your tired gaze, still half asleep, you scanned ej from his red face down to his bare torso, and down to his shorts. that was where you were met with his cock straining clearly against the fabric with a dark patch on it.

he gulped nervously, watching you stare at his boner.

you reached your hand out and placed it on his clothed cock. ej melted into your touch, sighing out at the contact.

“you don’t have to,” he assured you. “you’re sleepy, baby. you should go back to bed.”

you gently stroked his length up and down, looking up at him through your eyelashes. god, he was so fucking horny. you made it impossible for him not to be.

“it’s so hard,” you whispered.

you took the initiative to slide your hand into his shorts and jerked him off without any interference. he moaned softly in your ear as your thumb swiped over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and using it as lubrication.

ej stared at your hand down his pants, watching how slowly you jerked him off from how tired you were. he knew you wanted to sleep, however, he also knew you were into it, because you were rutting yourself against his leg, equally desperate to be touched.

a few minutes of jerking him off and your movements got slower and slower, until eventually they come to a complete halt.

ej looked over at you to see why you stopped, only to find your eyes were closed again. you’d fallen back asleep, your hand still down his shorts.

he sighed, unsure what to do. to wake you up again would feel like a crime. you were obviously exhausted, and ej had been too, but by then, he was completely awake. and he wanted to cum.

“y/n?” he called out softly.

you hummed a little in response. you were on the cusp of falling back into deep slumber, yet still just barely conscious at the same time.

“just…” you started, “put it in me, euijoo.”

“what?” ej responded. “are you gonna wake up?”

you mumbled incoherently.

“just fuck me,” he eventually made out from your babbles.

his cock twitched in your limp grasp. he wanted to fuck you so bad, quite literally more than anything.

“yeah?” he said. “gonna let me fuck you, baby?”

your eyes fluttered open just barely. you looked so pretty, your pink cheeks smushed against the pillow, your hair messy and your lips inviting.

ej pushed you gently onto your back and leaned down to plant his lips against yours. he spread your legs and placed himself between them, holding your knees up around his waist.

you were barely kissing back, too tired to keep up with the pace he was going, but he didn’t care. you were still kissing him.

he ground his cock into your pussy, both of you still clothed. he kissed you so messily, so desperately and intensely. you just couldn’t keep up.

“fuck,” he grunted, pulling back for a moment to look at you. “you’re so pretty, baby. such a perfect girl just for me.”

you blinked up at him, lips glistening with a mixture of both of your saliva.

“fuck me, euijoo,” you begged quietly.

ej was quick to pull his shorts down, his aching cock springing out, dripping pre-cum. he slid your shorts to the side and slid your tank top up far enough for your tits to come out, leaving you just how he wanted you.

“are you gonna stay awake?” he asked, jerking his cock off to the sight of your body.

“i don’t know,” you responded lazily. “‘m so sleepy, but i want you to fuck me so bad.”

ej smiled softly down at you.

“just let me take care of you,” he said, finally lining himself up with your hole.

he slowly pushed his dick inside, giving you an inch at a time. you gasped, keeping your eyes on his as he filled you up.

“i’ve got you, honey,” he assured, caressing your warm cheek. “i’m right here.”

you felt so safe. so safe, so warm, and so good with him as he bottomed out inside of you. you were full of his cock.

you let your eyes close again, turning your head to the side. ej pulled out halfway before pushing back in deeply, feeling every inch of your warm, wet pussy.

he looked down at where your parts intertwined. he watched his cock pull almost all the way out of you before pushing back in.

he made sure to fuck you slow. you were falling back asleep, he could tell. he could feel it as your legs grew heavier around his waist and your body became slack. he had to be gentle with you.

“my good girl,” he whispered to himself, staring at your chest, then up to your face. “so sweet.”

he fucked you like that for a few minutes, feeling himself get closer and closer. he then dropped your legs down from around his waist and pulled out. at that, you woke up again.

your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at him, practically pouting.

“why’d you stop?” you whined.

a bead of sweat was rolling down the side of his face, down his neck, and down his torso.

“i was getting close,” he told you.

“me too,” you said, taking him by surprise. “put it back in, please.”

he was quick to stuff his cock back inside you, feeling your tight walls suffocate his length. you spread your legs yourself, giving him enough room to thrust slightly faster than he had before now that you were awake.

with heavy eyelids, you watched him fuck you. he looked so good above you, sweaty and his jaw slightly dropped from how good he was feeling. you felt warmth all over your body and your stomach tightening.

“fuck,” you whispered tiredly. “i’m gonna cum.”

ej found your hand and intertwined your fingers together. he looked you deeply in your eyes as your orgasm hit you.

you gasped, throwing your head back as your tired, spent body came. your toes curled and your vision went blurry for a moment, from just how hard it had hit you.

“oh my god,” you cried out. “cum inside me, euijoo, please.”

ej groaned in response at the sheer thought of stuffing you full with his big load. he squeezed your hand and thrusted once, twice more, then let go.

“oh fuck,” he cried out. “oh, yeah. mmm, shit, i’m cumming.”

you could feel his warmth filling you up, rope after rope of cum flooding your insides. his eyes were squeezed shut, his hips lazily rutting into you to get the most out of his orgasm.

after about a minute or two, ej finally had caught his breath and pulled out of you. he collapsed by your side, chest still heaving for air slightly.

you were quick to cuddle up by his side, sighing happily as he planted a kiss to the top of your head.

“that was so good,” he said.

you hummed in agreement.

you both went silent then, ready for sleep to envelope you.

only then did you both hear a bird chirping, and as you looked out the window, you could spot the sun beginning to rise.

[levigarden999]

his dear maid ꩜ master!toji x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ theme : working as a maid wasn’t easy, especially when your workplace was the damn apartment owned by the richest man of the whole area. toji fushiguro. ‧₊˚ ⋅ warnings : smut , +18 , perv!toji , size kink , age gap , authority kink , fem!orgasm , oralsex!fem receiving , rough sex , overstimulation , degrading words (no master kink it’s just the caption lol)

ever since you started your work at the lavish fushiguros' apartment, toji had been obsessed with you.

the first day when toji showed you around and taught you the basics of your job, he was happy he was wearing large pants that luckily didn't show the fucking hard cock he was packing.

your skirt that was just a little too short, the somehow innocent yet slutty t shirt that showed a hint of cleavage every time you bent over nearly made him want to pounce you.

toji shamelessly palmed his cock through his pants while you were being clueless and crouched down in the bathtub, proving him that you knew how to clean the sewer. however, he didn't give a fuck about the sewer. he only wondered how you'd look all soapy and soaked up in the tub, being fucked dumb by him.

toji wanted you to work during the evenings in the weekdays, because during those hours his wife was at work and his son was back in the dorm of his school. he would often look at you while you worked, the throbbing of his cock nearly feeling painful in his pants every time he watched how small you were. so tiny that you had to grab a bench to clean the top shelves of the living room. he knew you’d look so good with your pretty pussy sucking his cock in with ease despite the stretch.

but nothing could had prepared him to how fucking good you looked bent over on the same damn marble counter that you had just wiped an hour ago, the fresh scent filling your nostrils. your hands desperately tried to find something to grip on, while toji’s face was buried deep in your pussy under the hem of your skirt, your thong urgently pulled aside.

you whimpered desperately at the sensation, the lewd sloppy sounds of toji’s long tongue and wet lips devouring your soaked folds and throbbing clit filling your ears.

toji pulled back with an exhale, a slap landing on your soft ass cheek.

”fuck-” he groaned as he stood up and began to undo his belt, wanting to free the rockhard cock which was uncomfortably packed in his pants. the pants weren’t even that tight, his cock was just so fucking huge.

”-ever since i saw you on the first day, been wantin’ to fuck this tiny pussy so fuckin’ bad” he murmured while he wiped his now freed cock teasingly inbetween your sticky folds, precum leaking from his flushed tip. your back arched, your hole embarrassingly craving that stretch he was about to give.

”you had this skirt on your first day, didn’t you?” he asked with a mocking chuckle, pulling the skirt up to fully expose your ass to him. you whined a pathetic ’yes’ as an answer.

”goddamn it, you were askin’ for it, weren’t you? needy fuckin’ slut”

you felt him lining himself against you, his large hands and fingers digging into the plush of  your hips as he thrust in. you made a noise you didn’t even know you were capable of making – it was loud, whiny and lewd.

toji didn’t go easy on you. as soon as he slipped in, he pulled back and slammed right back in, the stretch making you feel like you were spread in half. you gripped the edge of the counter, as if you were holding on for your dear life.

toji fucked you hard and deep, the tip of his cock not kissing but slamming against your cervix. the pain was quickly turned into pleasure, even if the fat cock pumping inside of your wet walls was stretching you with each thrust.

”so tight” he grunted as he grabbed your hair with a forceful grip that forced you to tilt your head back. your needy moans were turned into choked ones, the loud slamming of his hips against your squishy ass was filling the whole kitchen.

”i’m- i’m-” you whimpered, but toji already knew from the way your needy walls sucked him in and clenched around his throbbing shaft. you were about to cum on his cock.

”yeah? you wanna cum, huh?” he taunted with a low chuckle, his other hand wrapping over your mouth to muffle your moans. two thick and long fingers were pushed into the wetness of your mouth and you immediately sucked – like a fucking professional whore. you whimpered and nodded desperately.

”cum, dumb slut. wanna see you coatin’ my cock” he murmured and gripped your hair tighter, the sting on your scalp and his words mixed together finally making pure pleasure wash over your body. you were seeing stars as muffled moans left your mouth, your pussy squeezing around his fat cock which he was still pumping inside of you to the verge of overstimulation.

as you came, white juices coating his shaft and hips, he grabbed your hips again with both hands and began to fuck even harder, if it was even possible. your upper body fell back on the counter, now almost limp from the overstimulation, tears falling down your eyes. you were almost a drooling mess at that point, a fucktoy who had been fucked dumb. but you loved it.

[elleaitch22]

Love on Fire

Chapter 3: Until You Tell Me to Leave

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: This is the last prewritten chapter! Please live react or drop comments about what you liked or want, it literally means so much to me!!! I hope you love it as much as I do! xx Elle

Warnings: Fertility treatment discussion, mentions of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6k words

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

Paige had just finished a 48 hour shift; Angel, from B day, had gotten food poisoning, and Paie offered to take her spot. It was a relatively chill shift – only three car accidents, two of which didn’t need crazy extractions.

Even though it was only 7:30, and she was wiped, she took a shower and went over to Azzi’s.

After her long trek of fifteen feet, she was greeted by the smell of freshly baked pastries.

“Honey, I’m home!” She called. She walked to the kitchen and grinned at the sight.

There were plain vanilla cupcakes on the counter, some sort of brownie-chocolate bars cooling on a wire rack, and two different kinds of cinnamon rolls.

“Jesus, Azzi. Are you feeding a homeless shelter?” Paige chuckled.

The brunette’s head shot up. “Fuck. I’m supposed to bring baked goods to the homeless shelter tomorrow.”

“Okay, hold on,” Paige walked up behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders. “You need to breath, Az. You nervous?”

She sighed deeply, “I don’t know. I guess.” She paused, staring at her feet. “I still haven’t told my mom and dad.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready.”

Azzi’s back found Paige’s chest like muscle memory. The scent of shampoo, the rhythm of her breathing—anchoring her. “I just – I feel like I need to tell someone. Like someone who isn’t all the way in it with me like you are.”

At Paige’s nod continued. “Someone who will just be happy for me, not lecture me about everything that could go wrong.” She swallowed, “I don’t even have anyone to talk to about being pregnant. None of our friends even–”

Cool hands on tanned cheeks.

“Azzi, you’re panicking for real now.” Paige’s brows scrunched, like she was worried. “Breathe.”

A deep inhale.

“If you’re still bothered about everything after your appointment, I’m supposed to be going to my dad’s tonight. You can tell them; Katie’s had a kid before. You can talk to her.” The blonde’s tone was gentle, calming to Azzi.

“You don’t think they’re gonna judge me?” Her chin quivered.

Paige bit back a laugh, “These are the same people who didn’t even give me a reaction when I came out.”

“Paige,” Azzi started, spinning to face her, “The closet was made of the clearest glass.” She giggled.

“Yeah, but you know how church people feel about gay people. Do you not remember how much I was panicking? This’ll be the same.” A firm kiss landed on her forehead. “They’re going to be almost as happy as me, I promise.”

Azzi nodded, breathing deeply again. “Okay. I think I’m just freaking out because I’m so worried about this not working.”

“It’s going to work. Maybe not the first or second time, but straight people don’t always get it on the first try. Everything’s going to be fine.” Paige paused. “Go shower and get ready. I’ll get my comfiest sweats, then we can go to your appointment.”

Azzi blinked, turning towards the hall. Paige had no idea what she did to her when she said things like that. No idea how easy it would be to fall.

As Azzi went to the bathroom, Paige went back to her place and grabbed her most worn-in sweatpants and hoodie.

She was proud of herself. She went through that whole conversation lifting Azzi up, trying to comfort her. She didn’t even think about not being able to be the future baby’s other mom.

She could do this. She could keep smiling and comforting Azzi.

She could do it.

And she would.

Because she loved Azzi more than anything in the world.

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

Paige successfully distracted Azzi from her internal panic the entire way to the clinic.

She sang SZA and Drake loudly and very off key, and it dissolved Azzi into giggles for thirty minutes.

But when she checked in, she wanted to vomit. Because what if she was just wasting all her money? What if it didn’t work? What if she was going to be a bad mom?

“Azzi Fuud?” A nurse called, forcing Azzi to end her self-deprecating monologue.

A hand nudged her up, “Come on, Princess.”

After she got back there, everything was a blur. She assumed they took her vitals and took her to a room, but next thing she knew, she was wearing a medical gown.

“Okay, Ms. Fudd,” Dr. Caldwell started as soon as the door was opened. “This should only take about five minutes. I’ll insert the catheter, insert the sperm sample, and you will wait for ten to fifteen minutes before you go. You should have already picked up your progesterone prescription. You’ll take those twice daily for two weeks, then take a pregnancy test between day twelve and day fourteen.”

She gestured for Azzi to lay on the table. The sterile ceiling tile above her had a crack shaped like a heart. She stared at it and tried not to cry.

“You may feel some light cramping.”

A pale hand grasped a tanned one, bringing her out of her trance.

“You got this. Just squeeze my hand if it hurts.” Paige mumbled.

Azzi couldn’t focus on the procedure because of the blonde. The entire time, Paige was in her ear, telling her how strong she was, how amazing she was doing, how perfect her baby would be.

“Okay, that’s it. I’ve set a timer for fifteen minutes, and they you may get dressed and go.” Dr. Caldwell said on the way to the door.

Azzi nodded quietly.

“So, that didn’t seem too bad.” Paige broke the silence. “You didn’t even squeeze my hand once.”

The brunette smiled, “Yeah, I didn’t really feel much. I just have some cramping now.”

Paige’s fingers brushed slow circles across her skin. Azzi knew it didn’t help the cramps. But it helped something else entirely, something deeper and far more dangerous.

“So Test Day is going to be on an A Day, but I can come over before work so you’re not alone.” She continued after Azzi nodded, “And I can help you with your homeless baking today before we go to my dad’s.”

“Oh, God no. It’s supposed to be low stress, and you burn everything, P.” Azzi giggled.

Blue eyes rolled dramatically, “I don’t know why you act like you were any better than me before you went to culinary school.”

“It doesn’t matter! I’ve never burned cup noodles in the microwave!” She laughed, a real one this time. “I wouldn’t mind you keeping me company though.”

A lazy grin spread across Paige’s face. “Perfect. I’ll turn on Grey’s. We don’t have to talk unless you want to either. You’ve been quiet today.”

Azzi frowned, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. It’s a heavy day. I’m just letting you know we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We can just be together.”

This was the reason Azzi stood no chance at not falling deeper in love with Paige through this whole process. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about how perfect she was.

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

Paige and Azzi walked into her dad’s house with their hands full. Azzi had made hamburger and hot dogs buns for the meats and a new apple pie cupcake recipe she was testing for the dessert.

“My pookie’s here!” She heard as she walked in the house.

Drew pulled her into a bear hug as soon as she set the cupcake carrier down. She was always his favorite sister.

“What are you still doing here, Drew Drew?” She started, “Why aren’t you at training camp?”

Drew pulled away and looked down at her with a brow raised. “Azzi, what are you talking about? I got drafted to the Wizards; I’m staying here. And besides, training camp doesn’t start til September.”

Paige nudged him in the back. “Don’t pay attention to her bro, she only pays attention when she’s watching you.”

“Is that my Paigey?” A sing-songy voice called down the hallway.

Katie Bueckers was one of Azzi’s favorite people. She had been since she met her almost twenty years ago. She was like a warm hug, and Azzi never got tired of her.

“Hey Katie.” Paige smiled, walking over to hug her stepmom.

“And ZZ! Paige didn’t tell me you were coming over!” She pulled the brunette into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, girl!”

Azzi laughed, “I missed you too, Katie. Where’s Bob?”

“Oh, he’s finishing the burgers and chicken. And there’s corn on the grill too, I think.” She gestured to the backyard. “And what did you make, Azzi?”

“Hey!” Paige complained. “I brought some of it in! Why don’t you think I made anything?”

Three pairs of brown eyes darted to the blonde. “Paige, I look up to you for a lot of things, but I will never look up to you for cooking. You can’t cook, sis.”

“I made sourdough hotdog and burger buns. And cupcakes for dessert.” Azzi laughed at the pouty blonde slumped on the couch. She turned to Drew, “How’s Kamari? I haven’t seen her in weeks!”

His eyes widened, “Shit, I gotta go pick her up! She’s doing good though, Azzi. One of her nursing classes is kicking her ass.” He said, scrambling for his keys. “I told her she didn’t have to finish, now that I got drafted, and she threw a book at me.”

“Good.” Paige said, smiling.

Katie looked at him annoyed, “I told you to never say that to her. You deserved it.”

“I was tryna take some stress off her plate!” He exclaimed. “Whatever man, I’ll be back in ten.”

As the front door shut, the back door opened. “Paige!” A gasp. “And Azzi! I’ve missed you girls.” Bob said, carrying in the corn.

He walked over to peck Katie on the lips, and she took the tray. “Go say hi to your baby.”

Bob scooped Paige in a tight hug, “Missed ya, kiddo.”

“Me too, Dad.” Paige hugged back just as tightly.

He rounded the couch to embrace Azzi next, “How’s everything been? It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been by, and you haven’t been at the bakery as much.” Bob said, brows furrowed with concern.

Perfect segway, Azzi thought. “I’m doing alright. I haven’t been at the bakery as much because I’ve been at the doctor more.”

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Katie asked, stepping forward.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. I just–” She paused. “I wanted to tell you guys something, I just don’t know how you’ll react.”

The crease in between Bob’s brows deepened. “Whatever it is, you have our support, Azzi.”

Tears welled in her big brown eyes. “I – Um, I’m going to have a baby.”

Katie gasped loudly.

“I mean, I don’t know when, but I was inseminated today, and I don’t know. I’m nervous, but I’m hoping soon, I’ll have a baby?” Azzi’s voice lifted at the end.

She was tackled into a hug.

“Aye, aye, aye! Be gentle!” Paige stood quickly. “I told you they’d be happy.” She smiled at Azzi. “She hasn’t told Tim and Katie yet, so don’t go blab it when you’re at the gym.”

Katie leaned back, beaming. “Oh, Azzi. I’m so happy for you girl! Can we tell Drew?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Azzi said, with a matching grin.

Bob’s eyes were filled with tears. “So what does that make us to the baby?”

Azzi’s heart almost exploded. She was so worried about what Bob and Katie would think, even though they had always been nothing but supporting and loving to her.

“Well, I think it would be cool for the baby to have two sets of grandparents, whenever he or she comes.”

Another round of cheers rang out through the living room. It was so loud that nobody heard the front door open again.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Drew questioned.

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

A while later, after food was devoured, Katie and Paige stood side by side at the sink. Katie handed Paige another plate to dry when she finally broke the silence.

“How are you feeling about all this?”

“What do you mean?” Paige evaded the question.

Katie huffed. “You’re not an idiot, Paige. You’ve loved her since you were a kid. Don’t act like this isn’t affecting you.”

“Sometimes I think she already has everything she needs… and I’m just the extra. The afterthought.” The blonde mumbled.

 “Paige, you’ve never been an afterthought in Azzi’s world. You’re the whole goddamn outline.” Her stepmother replied gently.

It was quiet again, just the sound of a sponge and dishcloth sliding across plates.

“I’m happy for her, I really am.” She paused. “But I’m jealous too.”

Katie looked at her quietly. “Jealous of who, Paige?”

The blonde shrugged, “Nobody I guess. I just thought I would be the one doing it with her.”

“But you are,” Katie chuckled.

Paige shook her head, “Yeah, I mean I took her to her appointments and gave her the shot. And I volunteered to do it all with her, like a fucking idiot. The 2 am snack runs, rubbing her feet, all of it. But as her best friend, not as her wife, or even her girlfriend.”

Katie wiped her hands on a cloth and pulled the tall girl into a tight hug. “You can’t help but do all of that for her. You love her.” She paused. “I know it’s going to be frustrating and confusing for your feelings, but I’m always here. Whenever you need, you can always call me.”

“Thanks, Katie.” Paige mumbled into her shoulder.

She pulled away, “Who knows. Maybe this will be what shows you she loves you just as much as you love her.”

Paige rolled her eyes, turning to wipe off the countertops. “I told you she doesn’t love me like that.”

“And I’ve been telling you she’s in love with you since she came out.” Katie sassed.

“Whatever man.” Paige said, cheeks pink.

The two walked out to the living room to the rest of the chaos.

“So, I’ll be Uncle Drew, right? I mean, y’all are practically married anyway.” Drew smirked.

Kamari smacked the back of his head before anyone could respond. “Shut up, Thomas.”

“Thank you, Mari.” Azzi giggled. “If this whole baby thing works out, you can be Auntie Mari if you want.”

Paige came behind her, hands on her shoulders. “I already told you it’s going to work out, Azzi. Maybe not the first time, but eventually.”

Azzi couldn’t let herself fall into all the optimism Paige was putting out. It was honestly possible that IUI wouldn’t even work, and she’d have to do IVF instead.

“Well,” she breathed, “When Baby Fudd comes, you can be Uncle Drew. Bob, Katie, be thinking of names. Grandma and grandpa are boring.”

Paige’s hands stilled on Azzi’s shoulders.

Baby Fudd.

This baby would be a Fudd.

Her breath hitched a bit.

This really wouldn’t be their baby, just Azzi’s.

Baby Fudd.

Paige’s throat tightened.

No part of her name in it. No part of her in it at all.

Baby Fudd.

Paige was a little quieter the rest of the night.

Still throwing in jokes, but not the life of the party.

She was too deep in her head, dreaming about a little Baby Bueckers with big brown eyes and light brown hair.

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

It was 4:30 am.

Azzi should have been asleep.

But it was day fourteen.

The day she was supposed to take the test.

She was supposed to wait for Paige. She didn’t promise that she would, but it was kind of understood.

But Paige didn’t get off her shift for another two and a half hours, and Azzi wasn’t sure if she could wait that long.

But if she took the test early, she’d be able to feel her feelings before Paige got here. She could cry in solitude if it was negative, and she could have a sweet treat set up if it was positive.

She rolled out of her bed and padded to her bathroom. Her hands clenched the sink as she stared at her reflection.

She pulled out three boxes.

Clearblue Early Detection. First Response. Early Result. Clearblue Digital.

Three of the best pregnancy tests she could find.

A couple minutes later, all three tests sat on top of their wrappers.

Her leg bounced as she sat on the toilet seat.

She paced the length of the bathroom.

She opened and closed TikTok twice.

Pulled up Paige’s contact.

Swiped out of it and pulled up her messages to Katie.

Then, the timer went off.

One line.

One line.

Not Pregnant.

This was why she needed to test without Paige here.

Her vision was cloudy with tears.

Azzi knew it probably wouldn’t happen the first time, but it didn’t hurt any less.

She slid down the wall and brought her knees close to her chest.

There was nothing to mourn really, just the possibility. The what if. The hope of a little boy with glasses doing a science experiment in the kitchen. Or a little girl with asthma winning math competitions. Azzi pushing her high on the swing so she felt like a superhero.

She wanted it. She wanted it so badly.

And that was why it hurt.

That was why it felt like she was mourning a life.

Because she was. She was mourning a life for herself and her unborn baby.

God, she needed to snap out of it.

It wasn’t like she was ever actually pregnant. She just tried, and it didn’t work.

It was only the first time; she didn’t really need to be like this. Some people try for ten years and still haven’t had any luck, and Azzi was crying after one month.

She cried herself into a nap on the cool tiles of her bathroom floor.

Azzi was so deep in sleep that she didn’t hear her front door open. Or her name being called. Or the heavy footsteps coming to her room.

Paige saw the tests before she saw Azzi. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment.

“Az,” Paige said, rubbing her shoulders.

Brown eyes blinked quickly. “Hey Princess,” She started, kneeling in front of her. “We knew this was a possibility. This doesn’t mean anything.”

Azzi looked up, surprised to see her best friend. “What? What are you doing here?”

“It’s 7:30, Az. I told you I was coming for the test.” She moved closer, foreheads touching.

“I just, I hoped that it would work this time, even though it was only the first time.” Azzi muttered.

Paige nodded, “I know. Me too, but it doesn’t mean anything. We’re just gonna keep going and try again.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. Who knows how long it’ll take.” She said sadly.

The blonde lifted her head. “I’ll be here until you tell me to leave, Azzi Fudd. You’re gonna be a mom, I promise.”

“I love you, Paige.”

“I love you too. You’re my favorite person, Azzi Jazlyn.”

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

Paige didn’t show it, not in front of Azzi, but she was sad.

She wanted this to work for Azzi. Maybe not with the same desperate ache Azzi carried, but close. Close enough that it twisted in her chest every time she remembered the tests. One line. One line. Not pregnant.

Azzi’s curls tickled her thigh, the brunette resting in her lap while Grey’s Anatomy played on low volume.

“Pick me. Choose me. Love me,” Meredith Grey begged from the screen.

Paige blinked, hard.

God, if that wasn’t poetic.

She just wanted Azzi to love her. The way she loved Azzi. The way Meredith loved Derek. Messy. Loud. All-consuming.

But she swallowed the burn in her throat and reached for something softer instead.

She pictured Azzi round with a baby, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, radiant and powerful. Relaxed on a big couch, a toddler curled into her side, sleepy and safe. Paige always imagined Azzi with a lot of kids. Three, maybe four. Five if she was lucky.

They’d have Azzi’s eyes — wide, warm, bottomless. One with Paige’s light hair, maybe. Another with Azzi’s perfect curls. A full house. A full life.

It didn’t really matter. Two or ten. Paige just wanted Azzi to have everything she’d ever dreamed of. And she would make sure she got it, even if it broke her heart to do it from the sidelines.

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

Azzi wasn’t faring much better.

She hadn’t said anything since the test. Hadn’t needed to. Her body still leaned into Paige’s, legs tangled under the blanket, thumb grazing the seam of Paige’s hoodie absentmindedly.

She was picturing a different house.

Big and quiet and loud all at once. A wide, flat yard. A basketball hoop in the driveway. A pool for cannonballs. Kids — boys, girls, wild curls and bunny teeth — chasing each other while Paige grilled or fell asleep in a lawn chair with a popsicle stick in one hand and a baby in the other.

She imagined Paige walking in from a shift, sweaty and grinning, pulling her into a kiss while she pulled cookies from the oven. A kid groaning, “Ew, gross,” in the background.

She imagined Paige holding her in the middle of it all, chaos whirling around them, and the feeling of being perfectly still. Perfectly home.

It was loud. And messy. And chaotic. And it was everything Azzi wanted.

She closed her eyes, tuning out Meredith and Derek’s drama, and let the image root itself inside her like a prayer.

They’d get there. She’d try again. And again. As many times as it took. As long as Paige wanted that future with her.

[wcnderlnds]

sober ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: seunghyun's way to deal with your breakup is to drink his feelings away so you have to come and save him from himself ・❥・word count: 1.7k ・❥・warnings: alcohol consumption, angst. ・❥・ authors note: this is track six for the MADE event which you can find here. i mostly focused on seunghyun's verse. i also haven't proofread because headache but <3

The breakup had happened barely three weeks ago. Everyone said with time it would get better but when would that happen? Everyday Seunghyun woke up with a weight in his chest, feeling like something was missing. It felt like there was a hole in his head, like he would never be whole again. He’d heard all the stories about how much heartbreak sucked, the pain that came with it but he had never believed it until the day you had left. Waking up to the empty space beside him in bed every morning brought a fresh wave of pain. It felt like he was drowning with no way to reach the surface.

Seunghyun had known you practically his whole life. It had started out as an innocent friendship but as the years passed by and you grew older, it blossomed into something more. Love was messy and complicated but with you it had always felt easy. Seunghyun thought you were the most beautiful person inside and out. Nobody had ever captured his heart like you had. Every smile in his direction, every laugh that was just for him, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world – it made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Then the breakup happened.

His whole life had been falling apart and no matter how much you tried to be there for him, he had done the one thing he shouldn’t have and pushed you away. He hadn’t wanted to drag you down with him but in turn he had ended up losing you completely. The day you had broke up with him had been the worst day of his life. He had lost the one good thing in his life and blamed himself entirely.

Seunghyun knew it wasn’t the best way to deal with it but drinking numbed the pain. It was better than being sober because at least then he wasn’t haunted by his thoughts. Most of the time he opted to drink at home, having a few glasses of wine – TSpot, of course – just enough so he didn’t have to think about you. Not that really helped. You were always on his mind, it just made him feel lighter. Today, however, he had called Jiyong and asked if he wanted to go to their favourite bar. Never one to miss an opportunity to spend time with his best friend, Jiyong had immediately agreed.

So, that’s where they were. Sat at the bar, four shots in. Well, Seunghyun was. Jiyong had given up after two opting to move to beer instead. Seunghyun had ordered himself another couple of shots, downing them one after the other, his words slurred with every word he spoke. Jiyong sighed, patting his friend on the back as he talked about you. There was only one person who could help now. Jiyong excused himself for a moment to make the one phone call he had tried to avoid making.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It hadn’t been any easier on you. Leaving Seunghyun had been the single, hardest decision you’d ever made but there came a point where you had to put yourself first. No matter how hard you had tried, Seunghyun had kept shutting you out whether he realised it or not. The walls he’d built around himself were too strong, he was too scared of letting people in but you’d always assumed you’d be an exception to that. You were wrong. It got to a point where you couldn’t do it anymore even as much as you wanted to. Feeling like you couldn’t help the person you loved the most was one of the hardest, most painful things to go through. You felt useless because there wasn’t anything you could do. Nobody wanted to feel useless. It didn’t help that at that point, there wasn’t even much of a relationship. There were no date nights, no intimacy – Seunghyun had closed in on himself, not wanting to do anything with anyone. So, you had made the painful decision to end things. He had to fix himself first before your relationship could be fixed.

Your way of coping with losing your person was to cry yourself to sleep every night. Not that you got much sleep, it was hard to really sleep without Seunghyun by your side. He had been your comfort, your home for so long and now you didn’t have that, it felt like nothing had any meaning. But, you had to keep going on, no matter how hard it was. Even when Seunghyun had text you, called you, left you voicemails. That made it harder because you wanted to reach out, to tell him everything would be okay but you couldn’t. It was only when you got that call from Jiyong did you finally cave.

Seunghyun needed you.

As you stepped into the bar, the stench of alcohol and smoke hitting your senses, you scanned around the room to find Seunghyun hunched over at the bar, downing yet another shot. You sighed, feeling your heart skip a beat in your chest. Seeing him like this, so broken, so defeated; it broke your heart even more if that was possible. Your feet carried you towards him, silently sitting in the stool next to him. He turned his head slowly to face you, a stupid smile on his face, eyes glazed over.

“Jiyong, you’ve changed,” he giggled, laughing at his own joke. It took him a moment to really focus on you and when he did, his eyes widened, body stiffening. Were you really there or was he imagining you? It wouldn’t be the first time. He tried to act cool, his head resting on the hand that was propped up by his elbow on the bar.

“Seunghyun,” you spoke gently. Your hand reached out, hovering over his free one but you pulled back. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking,” he replied back shortly. 

“I can see that,” your eyes scanned across the shot glasses scattered in front of him. 

“Hmm,” he hummed. As he reached out to grab the one shot he had left, you moved quicker, grabbing it before he could and pulling it away from him. He pouted at you, his lower lip jutting out like a child. “Hey, I was going to drink that. Don’t be mean.”

“I think you’ve had enough, baby.” It had slipped out before you could stop yourself. Seunghyun instantly straightened, turning away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t call me that when you don’t even love me anymore.”

You frowned, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Seunghyun, I still love you. I love you so much.”

“Then why did you leave me?” He asked quietly. The way he sounded so sad and defeated made the first tear fall from your eyes. When he turned again to face you and saw it, he reached out with the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.

“You wouldn’t let me in. You pushed me away and I didn’t know what to do anymore. It was never a question about loving you. I’m always going to love you but I can’t show you that if you don’t let me,” you closed your eyes at the feeling of his touch. It had only been three weeks but you had missed it so damn much.

“I know.”

The silence lingered between you, the air thick with tension and all the unspoken words that neither of you could bring yourself to say. It was hard not to throw your arms around him at that moment. The way his eyes looked at you so soft, gentle like you were the most precious thing in the world. Your felt your heart rate quicken as he cupped your cheek, resisting the urge to lean into his touch but you couldn’t. You pressed your cheek against his palm, selfishly revelling in the way his skin felt against yours.

“Why are you drinking?” You asked gently.

“So I don’t have to think about you,” he pulled his hand away from you, looking down at the floor. “If I’m drinking then I don’t have to realise how badly I messed up, that I lost the one good thing I had.”

“Seunghyun,” you sighed. This time you did reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know it hurts. It hurts me too but what hurts the most is seeing you like this. Things are hard, I know but this isn’t you. You’re strong, you’re determined and… you can get through this. I’m not just talking about the breakup, I’m talking about everything else.”

“Yeah, not so sure about that,” he mumbled under his breath but you caught it.

You stood up, tugging at his hand to pull him up to his feet, too. Jiyong, who had been sitting away from you both to give you a moment, rushed over to help you. Each other you threw one of Seunghyun’s arms over your shoulders to help him stand because there was no way he could walk on his own two feet. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Seunghyun didn’t even protest, instead he nuzzled his head into your neck, closing his eyes. You had never been more thankful for Jiyong in that moment as he helped pull Seunghyun into the cab. He had asked you if you wanted him to come with you but you shook your head, telling him you’d be fine and you’d call him in the morning to let him know how things were. 

“You’re still so beautiful,” Seunghyun mumbled drunkenly as you helped him back into his apartment. Without Jiyong, it took you twice as long but you managed to drag him into his bedroom, placing him down on his bed. He laid back, allowing you to pull off his shoes. He was mumbling to himself but you didn’t quite catch it. When you were finished making him more comfortable, you were about to leave but he reached out, grabbing your wrist. “Stay with me?”

The pleading look in his eyes was too hard to refuse so you nodded your head, climbing onto the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around you, sighing contently as he nuzzled into your hair. “I love you. Don’t leave me.”

“Let's talk in the morning when you’re sober, okay?”

Seunghyun drifted off to sleep quickly and, unsurprisingly, so did you. It was the first sleep you’d got in three weeks and it was all because you had your person. Maybe, just maybe you really would be able to fix this.

event tag list

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gds-daisy @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @burningheartdetective @soragojo

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib @moontabi @loonybunn

[vivwritesfics]

Sports Romance

Lando's girl loves reading. She loves those sports romance books. But she wants an F1 book she can relate to as a WAG. So, she writes one herself.

Warnings: 18+ smut, p in v

a/n: I HAVE NOT READ THIS BOOK BY HANNAH LILY BUT I BET IT'S AWESOME! IT LOOKS SIIIIIICK AND THAT'S WHY I'M USING IT HERE

Every sports romance book she'd read since the beginning of her relationship with Lando Norris had been fine, but inaccurate. They'd been a bit of fun, something to read on her travels.

But they were so fucking inaccurate.

She was the girlfriend of a driver. Nobody understood that better than her (well, except the other WAGS. She loved the other WAGS).

Every time she posted a book on her Instagram, it had a glowing review. It had to have a glowing review, especially when she had such a big audience.

She read the comments, too. People who were enjoying the books she recommended always brought her joy. She had pictures of herself, reading with Lando. Pictures friends had taken of her with her head in his lap, reading while he gamed.

They always did good on her Instagram. On his Instagram, too. But Lando always posted the pictures that came after hers, the one where he stopped gaming, pushed her book out of her way and kissed her.

But the sports romance books. Too many times she had stopped Lando to read out a part of the book and ask, "Does this sound right?"

And Lando, because he was obsessed with his girlfriend, asked her to read it out again. Just to hear her voice. He wasn't a man that enjoyed reading, but he would have listened to audiobooks if she voiced them.

"Nearly," he would answer, his arms around her, chin on her shoulder as he tried to read.

The WAG groupchat got to read parts of it as well, got to give their opinions on what she was reading.

It wasn't bad, the books. It was just inaccurate.

"I'm gonna try and write one."

"Huh?" Lando looked up from his phone.

"One of those sports romance books. I'm gonna try and write one for F1."

He watched as she stood up and walked over to her little desk in the corner of the room. Where she had had written her dissertation and finished her degree. Now, it just held empty notebooks.

She grabbed one, grabbed a pen.

And she wrote.

Just writing. No planning, no creating characters, just writing.

It was pretty easy to write a love story when it was basically your life. Some parts of it was exaggerated, the enemies to lovers style meeting especially. But the Formula One parts, the they were accurate, checked over by Lando (as long as she read them out to him).

For months, she worked on a first draft. It wasn't easy, with days, sometimes weeks of her getting nothing done. But she worked hard, didn't let the writers block get her down.

Lando was her biggest supporter. Reading what she sent him, sending back his feedback (which was always just a million heart emojis).

When her first draft was done, Lando insisted on celebrating. Dinner and drinks which normally ended with her on her cheeks, his hands on her hips as he fucked her, pushing his cock through her folds. His grip was usually tight enough to bruise, a mark she would wear with pride.

She read the first draft out to him, for his reaction of the entire story and to catch any silly mistakes. Any time Lando asked 'huh?', she made a note, worked around it.

And then, she sent it to her friend. Someone she trusted, someone she knew would tell her if it was shit, would tell her what she loved and hated. Someone who would circle her mistakes, tell her what she needed to fix before sending it to the publisher.

The second draft took a year. A year of trying to edit before giving up. A year of spending a week doing an entire chapter, a month doing the next. A year of getting loads done in a short space of time, only to do nothing for the next few weeks. Those weeks of nothing were so demotivating, but Lando was her rock, kept her going.

After the second draft, she contacted a publisher. And then another publisher. And then another publisher.

Eventually, one took interest in her story.

It wasn't perfect, but the publisher took a chance on her. She made the necessary changes and sent it back.

She kept the rest of the process under wraps. Nobody was allowed to see the cover, not until the book was announced. Nobody was allowed to know anything, not until the book was announced. Not even Lando.

No matter how much he begged and pleaded with those puppy dog eyes, she wouldn't let him know. Just like everybody else, he had to wait.

Five minutes before her post announcing her book on Instagram, she revealed the cover to him.

"That's me."

It was him. Dark hair, green eyes (she had to pick between green and blue while keeping the main male character looking like her boyfriend. It wasn't easy), and orange race overalls, it was obviously him.

"That's me," he said again and strode towards her. "That's really me."

"That's you, baby," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he picked her up. "Had to make my F1 romance about you, didn't I?" She said, like it was obvious.

He took another look at the cover. "But the girl doesn't look like you," he said, as if it was a personal insult towards him.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Didn't want to make it too obvious that I was in love with you," she said, but her laugh gave her joke away. "Didn't want to write some self insert shit," she mumbled and wrapped her arms around him again.

Lando kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that left her breathless and dizzying. The kind of kiss that had him sitting down and her climbing into his lap. The kind of kiss that had him chanting I love you, while she bounced on his cock.

When the book came out, the reception was phenomenal. Her own social media audience bought her books, as well as Lando's fans. Girls that wanted to know what it was like to date him, girls that spent their evenings on tumblr, that now had a view of a life they so desperately wanted.

They left her favourite reviews, most of them finishing the book within the day they bought it.

Maybe this was her calling, being an author. Writing books that had her boyfriend as the main character. No, she couldn't think of anything better.

[immortalmrwavell]

The Hike

(Original story posted May 23rd 2023) Minor edits and corrections

After about an hour or so of hiking, Adam had reached the foot of Mount Servus Masculus. He stared up at the mountain with a confident grin. “I’ve still got no idea what the locals were so scared of. This is gonna be easy..” He spouted cockily.

Over the years Adam had climbed numerous mountains both tall and dangerous, snowy and windy. He’d traveled all over the world climbing all kinds of different mountains and documenting his experiences. One day soon he even planned on getting to the peak of Everest! Compared to that and most other mountains he’d done recently, this ‘Mount Servus Masculus’ seemed like child’s play. Looking at it from where he was, he figured he’d be up and down it in no time. Yet none of the locals would dare go near the mountain let alone climb it. Apparently there was some strange superstition around it. Adam didn’t give it the time of day though. It was just your same old ‘Oooooh anyone that tried to climb it has never been seen again’ mumbo jumbo. He’d heard it all before. It didn’t scare him then and it wouldn’t scare him now.

The confident hiker took a swig of water from his bottle just before adjusting his pack and marching onwards. He followed along a path that seemed to lead through the trees that covered the lower half of the mountain. It was heavily overgrown with wildlife covering most of the path. Due to this it wasn’t long before Adam pulled out his machete and started hacking through all the thick brush blocking his way ahead. All the while he could hear birds and insects chirping around him in a song-like manner. It was kind of beautiful actually.

Adam pressed on until the path finally started to open up a little more, allowing his trusty machete to have a break. This also gave him a better chance to admire the scenery of the mountain’s forest. Once again he couldn’t think for life of him why everyone was so afraid of it. Everything was so lush and vibrant. The grass was so very green and the plants growing around the trees seemed to glitter with an array of so different colours. And the way the wind gently whistled through the air… it was so enchanting. It almost made him wish he lived here. But he had to continue on.

Before long he found himself reaching the edge of lower forest and entering a rockier part of the mountain. He could tell there were more trees further up but he’d need to climb a little before getting there. That said, even as he escaped the beauty of the forest below, that wind continued to swirl around him in a strange manner. Whistling even clearer now in a way that could only be described as a melody of nature. He was so encapsulated by the sound that he’d failed to notice how his previously baggy clothes had begun to feel much tighter around the seams…

The path forward had become much clearer now with a winding trail that gradually led Adam further up the mountain. As he wandered along the trail, it felt as though an invisible hand was tugging him along. Encouraging him to keep walking. Encouraging him to reach the top of the mountain because doing so would make him feel oh so good. Encouraging him to take off his backpack and leave it on the side of the trail. He dropped it without a second thought, not even acknowledging the wide array of other backpacks lying around the area discarded. The song only wove itself deeper as it encouraged Adam to slip off his waterproof coat next, reasoning that it was far too warm for that…

At some point he found himself looking down to see he’d taken off not only his coat but also the jacket underneath, leaving him in just a tight black t-shirt. The fabric of which stretched tight across a plump pair of pecs that hadn’t existed before. Not to mention how Adam’s sleeves had begun to ride up his growing biceps as the shirt groaned under the size of his expanding back and shoulders. He should’ve been freezing cold without the rest of his layers on and yet the wind swirling around him was just so warm and relaxing. It was like the higher he climbed, the hotter the air became. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him that this wasn’t normal but the whispers of wind only told him to keep walking. To keep climbing. To keep growing. And he listened.

With every step he took, Adam’s muscles pulsed. Bulking and ballooning with new mass. His whole body grew thicker and stronger until the wind whispered at him again. Telling him to rip off that useless shirt. He wouldn’t need it where he was going.

“Ggguuraaaahhh!” Adam let out a deep roar as he gripped the centre of his shirt and tore it wide open before tossing the remains on the ground. He let out a small grunt before continuing his ascent up the mountain.

He didn’t know when it’d happened but at some point he’d also taken off his boots and socks. Leaving him walking along the mountain trail barefoot. Now all that was left was a threateningly tight pair of trousers and underwear. But soon enough, as he reached what looked to be an old bridge that stretched over a creek, Adam found himself compelled once again to strip. The song of the mountain winds commanded it. He complied without hesitation, tugging off his trousers and leaving them on the side of the path. He crossed to the other side of the bridge in nothing but a tight pair of blue underwear that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Eventually Adam found himself face to face with a wall of boulders. It didn’t seem as though the trail continued any other way around it which could only mean that his one option was to rock climb. And climb he did. Making sure to get a good grip with both his hands and feet on each sturdy piece of rock before pushing himself higher. Getting closer and closer to the top.

Once again part of his rational mind screamed at him, saying that doing this without any of his gear whatsoever was not only weird but extremely dangerous! But deep down he somehow knew that the warm comforting winds swirling around him at all times would keep him safe. And so he shook off any silly doubts before continuing to climb. Feeling the air around him grow stronger the higher he went.

Soon enough Adam found himself having somehow scaled the entire wall of rock. As he did, he turned and looked towards the Sun in the distance as it shone bright upon the land below. He couldn’t help but smile. “Be free.” the wind whispered to him softly. Then without a second thought he reached down and yanked his underwear off. Holding them in his hand for a moment before tossing them off the ledge and watching as they blew away. Just like what would soon happen to the last of his free will.

For just a moment Adam felt the strange wind disperse and was immediately hit with a wave of clarity. “W-what the fuck am I doing and- My body!? What happened to me!?” Adam screamed in confusion as his cock flopped between his legs. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around what was happening. Not only as to why the hell he naked but also to how the fuck he’d gotten so buff! His arms were so thick and powerful with muscle that bulged with every movement. His back and shoulders had broadened significantly and his chest had grown into a pair of prominent muscle tits with an incredibly sensitive pair of nipples to match. It was insane! Even his ass had expanded into a huge bubble butt now! And as crazy as it all was, he couldn’t help but stop and admire his new and improved form.

His admiration of his newly sculpted body was soon cut short however as the wind rushed back in an instant, sending Adam straight back into trance. This time it felt as though an invisible pair of lips had wrapped themselves around his cock and were sucking on it gently as they guided him slowly towards an opening in the second forest higher up the mountain. Almost like he was being tugged along by his dick while being sucked off. Of course the enchanted Adam didn’t question this one bit as he allowed his cock to lead the way. All the while failing to notice how, despite being fully hard, his manhood still seemed to be growing longer and thicker.

Unlike when he’d made his way through the forest lower, a clear pathway made itself visible through the trees. Leaves and branches actively moving out of Adam’s way without him having to lift a finger. It was as if they were alive. Now allowing him easy passage to continue ascending until he reached where the wind was taking him. The peak.

He walked for about an hour, having his new monster dick edged constantly the whole way. Only after all that did Adam finally reach an opening in the forest. He’d reached the top of the mountain it seemed and what he saw was something nobody would’ve believed had they not seen it with their own eyes.

There was an entire community of hunky naked men!

Some of them were simply lying around, displaying their bodies, others were actively flexing and admiring themselves while a few were straight up fucking each other raw and filling one another’s holes with their cum. Ordinarily this would’ve been enough to have Adam running for the hills but the wind reassured him that this was all normal. That he belonged here now. He silently complied before walking into the testosterone filled camp, his hard sensitive cock bobbing up and down with every step.

“Ah there you are. Adam is it?” Called a somewhat familiar voice. Adam turned his head to see a man sitting on what looked to be some kind of throne. He was a naked hunk just like all the other men and was currently being worshipped by two other hulking meatheads. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here. It’s been about a year since we’ve had any fresh meat.” He continued. That’s when it hit Adam. This man. It was him. The whole time. The voice whispering in his ear. The wind telling him what to do and think. It was all him! “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll feel right at home around here soon enough.”

Every ounce of what was left of Adam’s free will was screaming out in distress. Telling him to get away as fast as possible. Yet his body wouldn’t move. Only continuing to stand before this king of hunks with the biggest hard on of his life. Unfortunately for Adam however, this man wasn’t a king but rather a powerful wizard and as such was able to hear all the inner thoughts his new recruit was having.

“Oh? You’re still resisting?” The man said as if it were comical. “Boys. Drain him dry.” He commanded and just like that the two men that’d been worshipping him turned to face Adam with lustful grins on their faces before immediately getting to work. Kissing, licking and groping every inch of Adam’s body while they teased him with their own. He tried to resist as much as he could but when one of them started waving their fat muscle ass in front of him, he just couldn't stop himself from slamming his cock inside!

“That’s it boy! Drain those balls and your free will along with em!” The wizard shouted and with all the edging Adam had already received, that encouragement was all he needed. Moments later Adam let out an almost animalistic roar as he blew the fattest load of his life while simultaneously submitting to this hunky wizard. Any will of his own was now completely erased and replaced with nothing but thoughts of muscular men, dicks and ass. He was now cursed to be a dumb horny himbo on top of this mountain for the rest of his life. Breeding and being bred to no end. That was his purpose now.

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Not Your Weight To Carry | Liam Mairi

Masterlist | FW Masterlist | Liam Week 2025 Masterlist

Summary: Liam has always been calm, cool, and collected no matter what, but when you become the target instead of him, no one ever stood a chance.

Note: Liam Week Day 1 - honor / Day 2 - Protective - @empyreanevents 

Pairing: Liam Mairi x reader

Warnings: harassment, misogyny(by unnamed character), bullying, violence, drugging, loss of consciousness, Liam on a rampage

Word Count: 1.6k

Read on Wattpad | Read on A03

You’d asked him the same question more times than you could count.

“Why do you let them talk to you like that?”

Every time someone muttered traitor under their breath, or spat the word rebel like it was poison. Every time they shoved past him in the mess hall or made a quiet, cruel joke during drills—like he wasn’t good enough to be here, like he hadn’t earned every damn scar on his hands.

And every time, Liam just shrugged with that infuriating calm. “Because I know who I am,” he’d say. “And I know what you think of me. Doesn’t matter what the rest of them believe.”

You hated how much sense that made. Hated more how often it worked.

When you tried to speak up—when your blood boiled hotter than his ever did—he’d always step between you and the fire. Pull you close. Tuck you just under his chin.

“Easy, Sunshine,” he’d murmur, voice soft against the shell of your ear. “Letting them get to you means they win.”

It made you feel safe. Steady. Like nothing they said could touch you as long as he was there.

But then—it all flips.

“He only picked you because you're easy to control, huh, sweetheart?” one of the cadets in your squad mutters as he brushes past you in the sparring gym.

You freeze. You were just taping your wrists, half-focused on your stance—until that voice, and those words, slither under your skin.

You straighten, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

He’s already pacing a slow circle, like this is just another round. “I’m just saying,” he adds with a shrug, “you’re the weakest in our squad—but I’m sure you’ve got other useful skills. Right?”

Your heart pounds. Your face burns. But not from shame. From rage. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

He turns back, grinning like this is funny. Like you’re the joke. “Relax. Just making an observation. He’s got a type, doesn’t he? Soft. Obedient. Easy to—”

You don’t see Liam until he’s beside you. “Finish that sentence,” his voice cuts through the gym like lightning—sharp, electrified, and cold. So cold it silences the space instantly.

The cadet stiffens. His smirk fades.

Liam’s jaw is locked, arms tense like he’s holding himself back from launching across the floor. But his voice? His voice is steel.

“Go on,” Liam repeats, stepping forward. “Finish it. I dare you.”

No one breathes.

The cadet falters. “Just joking,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean—”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Liam says, low but deadly. “Ever.”

Then he turns to you. He doesn’t touch you right away—just looks. Like he’s checking to see if you’re okay, if you want him near.

You nod, but your hands are still shaking. “I got this,” you say quietly.

Liam nods back. “I know you do.” His voice softens. “But I’m done letting them think you’re fair game.”

Because now? You’re the one they’re aiming at. And Liam—calm, honorable, untouchable Liam—isn’t brushing any of it off.

The air inside the sparring arena is taut with anticipation—too quiet, too still. All eyes are on you and Ren, who is triple your size and known for breaking noses, shattering egos, and walking away without a scratch.

But you know you can handle him and you do for the first three minutes.

Your strikes land clean. Your footwork outpaces him. He scowls as you dodge another brutal kick and drive your elbow into his side. The crowd is murmuring now—surprised, maybe even impressed.

Then, one step lands too heavy. The next stumbles. Your limbs go hot, then numb. Your fingers twitch strangely as your blade dips mid-swing. It’s like your body’s disconnected—fog rolling over your nerves.

Then Ren’s fist slams into your ribs.

You gasp—but it’s slow. Like your lungs are filling with something thicker than air. Another hit. Your vision tilts. You're too sluggish to block the blow, and the blade cuts across your upper arm—deep.

You stagger back, blinking. The crowd blurs at the edges.

What’s happening?

You try to raise your blade again, but it slips from your fingers and hits the mat with a sharp clang. The world wobbles. Your knees hit next.

Ren hesitates—just for a second—like he’s realizing something’s off. But Emettario hasn’t called it, so he moves in again.

And this time, you can’t even flinch. The final hit crashes into your jaw. Your head snaps to the side and everything goes black.

Across the arena, Liam finishes his challenge with a clean takedown. He’s already turning to find you, expecting that crooked smile you always wear after a good fight.

But you’re not smiling. You’re not moving.

He sees your body first—twisted awkwardly on the mat. Then he sees Ren, standing over you. No remorse.

He sees red.

Liam’s already moving before his mind catches up. Shoving past those circled around your mat, ignoring the shouts of his name.

He hits Ren like a storm.

Fist to gut. Elbow to jaw. Ren doesn’t even get a guard up before he’s on the ground, groaning in pain as Liam drives a knee into his side.

“What did you do to her?!” Liam roars, voice shredded. “What the fuck did you do?!”

It takes Xaden, Bodhi, and Garrick to drag him off. Emettario is shouting over the noise, someone shoves Ren out of the ring as he stumbles to his feet.

Liam doesn’t care. He breaks free from his brother’s hold on him and drops to your side, hand hovering just above your face—afraid to touch, afraid he’s too late.

“Sunshine,” he breathes. “Hey—look at me. Please.”

Your face is pale. Too pale. Blood trickles from your nose. A shaking healer slides beside him, already working—but Liam doesn’t move.

He just stares. At your limp fingers. Your bruised jaw. The way your head lolled so easily to the side when they checked your pulse.

And it hits him. This wasn’t just a fight. Something was wrong.

His bloodied fists curl on the mat.

And for the first time since arriving at Basgiath—Liam Mairi is ready to burn the whole quadrant down.

You hadn't stirred in hours.

The healers said the bleeding stopped. That you were stable. But your skin is still too pale, your breathing too thin. They don’t know what was used on you—only that it was something slipped before the match. Maybe in your water or lunch.

Something subtle. Deliberate. Meant to break you without anyone noticing until it was too late.

Liam hadn't left the infirmary since they carried you in. Not until now.

Because someone did this to you and he’s going to find out who.

He stalks through Basgiath like a man possessed.

He tracks every cadet who made a comment towards you. Corners them. Demands names. He checks bottles, gear, and bags. 

He doesn’t care about rules anymore. Not after seeing the way your body laid on that floor.

Not after he heard the way the healers whispered about permanent damage—intentional, invasive, and premeditated.

He had just pinned one of the cadets in your squad when a sharp voice stopped him.

“Liam.” 

He turns—sharp, still seething–to see Xaden standing a few paces away, arms folded, jaw tight.

“You need to stop.”

“I’m not stopping until I find out who did this to her,” Liam snaps, turning back to the cadet in his arms.

“I get it,” Xaden says, pulling Liam away, letting the cadet get away. “I do. But dragging cadets out by their collars isn’t going to help her. And it sure as hell isn’t going to help you.”

Liam’s breathing hard. “She could’ve died.” Liam’s voice cracks, shoulders sagging as he finally just feels everything.

“I know.”

“She didn’t even get the chance to fight. Someone made sure of it before she stepped on that mat.”

“I know,” Xaden says again, softer this time. He takes a step closer. “But if she were awake right now—if she saw you like this—you know what she’d say.”

For a moment, all that rage just... folds in on itself. Exhaustion takes its place. The kind born of heartbreak, not battle.

“Is she...is she awake?”

Xaden nods, a faint smile breaking through. “She’s asking for you.”

Liam doesn’t run. He walks. But inside? He’s sprinting. 

And as he slips into the infirmary, breath caught in his throat, he sees you—awake. Bruised and dazed, but awake. His whole body relaxes.

You blink up at him, lips parting in a tired smile.

And he crosses the room in three long strides, falls to his knees at your bedside, and takes your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, like a prayer.

Your voice is hoarse, barely audible. “You look like hell.”

He huffs a broken laugh, pressing your hand to his lips. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You close your eyes briefly. “I was so scared, Liam. I didn’t understand what was happening. My body... it felt like it wasn’t mine anymore.”

He tightens his grip on your hand. “I thought—” His voice breaks, then steadies again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your lashes flutter open. “You didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” he says fiercely. “And I’m never gonna let anyone take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”

You nudge his shoulder weakly. “Letting them get to you means letting them win... remember?”

He chokes on a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“Yeah,” he says. “I remember.”

But in his head, he promises himself:

They’re still going to pay. Later, but still pay.

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo @fictionalrelapse

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Summary: The Void is not just a power or an alternate form. It’s Bob's darkest self, an entity that feeds on fear, destruction, and chaos. But the Void desires something different with you. Not to destroy...he wants to claim.

A/N: Ik this isn't really how void works, but it is fanfiction lol, I hope you enjoy my work regardless. I am enjoying writing for Void and Bob so if you have ideas for either please let me know :) As always if you like my work, please let me know! Reblogging, commenting, and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work, and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Requests are open <3

At first, it’s just a whisper.

When Bob’s overwhelmed, exhausted, burning at both ends he sees the shadows curl in the corners of the room. Not moving. Just...watching. Waiting.

Waiting for you. 

Bob noticed that it has been showing itself more when you’re around. “Don’t get close to me,” he tells you one night. His voice is flat, too calm. “You don’t know what I am.” You smile softly, too sweet, too trusting. “I know who you are.” His jaw clenched, he wants to believe you. If he was honest with himself though… he doesn’t even know who he is right now. Because The Void knows you. And it’s waiting for you. What it wants with you Bob doesn’t know, but it can’t be something wholesome, can’t be something pure and those are the only things you deserved. 

It starts with little moments…albeit they were very strange moments. You wake up with your apartment window open though you swore it was locked. You feel eyes on you when no one’s there. A shadow flickers across the hallway mirror, but when you turn, it’s just you. And when Bob shows up the next day exhausted, stubble unshaven, trembling you don’t ask why he doesn’t remember talking to you last night. Because you already know.

It wasn’t Bob. It was him.

“You smell like sunlight, like the spring” the thing wearing Bob’s face says one night, voice too smooth, too full of hunger. He’s not quite touching you. Not yet. “You don’t understand what that does to something like me.” You back up instinctively. But something stops you. Not fear. Not exactly. It was more of a curiosity. "We don't get soft. Never been worthy of such softness." He leans closer, voice silk, deep, and ruined. “Bob wants to keep you safe,” The Void murmurs. “But I think I want to keep you...That we want to keep you.” He smiles a twisted smile that was completely different from the one you fell in love with. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine. Not without a war."

Bob hasn't been sleeping much anymore. He knows the signs too well, knows how it starts. The way the shadows cling to him a little longer than they should. How his reflection lingers in the mirror a moment too long after he’s already walked away. How the voice in his head isn't quite his own. The Void is circling again. And it’s trying to circle not only him but you. 

<><><><><>

The two of you always had a date night planned for two nights a week. Tonight was the stay at home date night, you had planned a dinner the two of you could try and make and he picked a movie that you hadn’t seen but was one of his favorites. Bob was excited for tonight, he hadn’t seen you a lot lately with work and just life but as he was getting things prepared he heard a familiar whisper. She’ll be mine… A shiver ran down his spine as if the words traveled through his body.  

“Don’t come by tonight,” Bob says over the phone. His voice is low, raw like he’s been screaming into the wind. “I’m not… I’m not doing...the best. We’ll just reschedule date night.” You seemed to perk up over the phone hearing that he was struggling. “I mean that's exactly why I should come by.”

“No.” It’s firm. But underneath that is panic. Fear. “Please. Just. Just not tonight.” You hear him breathe in sharply. Then, softer, cracking around the edges: “He’s too close. He likes you. He…he wants you.” 

You don’t understand at first. Not really. You’ve never been afraid of Bob. Even when the news whispers about "what he could become." Even when people look at him like he’s a bomb that was in the middle of ticking. But when you stopped by the tower the next day and got to his room, you could see that one of his walls has a hole punched in it as did the mirror, windows cracked inward from the inside and the lights shattered, you finally realized…He wasn’t protecting himself from you. He was protecting you from him.

“I would never hurt you, I god I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you” Bob says, pacing, running a shaking hand through his hair. “But he-he doesn’t care. He sees something soft and good and pure, and he wants it. He ruins it. He can’t—” Bob cut himself off with dragging his hands down his face. “I can’t have him ruining you.”

You step toward him, quiet but steady. “I’m not afraid of you.” He stops and looks at you. Something flickers behind his eyes—gold and endless, but underneath it,was something darker. Something grasping. “You should be,” he breathes. “Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold him back.”

That night, while you sleep on his bed, Bob sits just out of sight. Eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Hands clenching hard enough to crack bone. The Void purrs beneath his skin like a beast under glass. Let me see her, it whispers. She’s warm. She’s kind. She doesn’t flinch. She wants us. We could keep her. Bob presses his forehead to the wall, jaw clenched. “You don’t get to touch her.” The entity just laughs, his laugh, twisted and low echoes through Bob’s bones.

You already let me. She’s part of us now.

Tagging

@itsjustisa

[gothamsfavorite]

You’d been waiting to tell Jason this for the longest, to let him know the way he makes you feel when he gives you that piercing stare. Or when he texts you all times of the day to make sure you’re okay, or to send you pictures of things because they remind him of you. 

He made you feel safe, safer than safe. He made you feel like the most important girl in the world. 

He values you not for your body, or your face but for your mind. He admires your soul - he doesn’t vocalize it but it's in his eyes. 

The way he stares at you as if the whole world resides on your very shoulders. 

Jason doesn’t express his feelings, he shows them, he’s always been bad with words. 

You on the other hand could tell him, you’d sing him love songs, or write him poems. 

Today you’d tell him you loved him - you have been together for a year. 

You of course don't know when to say it, because saying I love you after you watch him pour a bowl of cereal isn’t ideal. 

Jason’s sneaking in your window per usual after patrol, he made it a habit to do so. You’ve told him over and over he can use the door but are sure he enjoys the adrenaline rush of the “will I wont I fall off this window sill?”

“Hey princess,” He hugs you, and you wince - the stench of gotham lingered on his clothes, a reminder of no matter how big and bad he was out there in gotham - or how grimey, dirty or smelly it got, he would always find a way back to you and give you that look. You love him for that, you love him. Shouldn’t it be easy to tell him that? 

“Go shower.” 

“As you wish, gorgeous.”  

After he comes out of the shower, his hair is still soaking wet. He sits next to you, putting his arm around you. His way of making you feel at home, home. “What’s the mood for tonight, hun? Movie or straight to bed?” 

“Straight to bed, work kicked my butt today.” He runs his hand up and down your arm, and kisses your forehead. “Goodnight princess.” 

“Goodnight, I love you.” You tell him, and he freezes. He doesn’t say it back or anything, the room is pure silence and you swear you can hear the echo of those three seemingly little words. You turn your back to him, and stay that way for the rest of the night. 

You wake up late, but Jason is sleeping even later - you brush your teeth, wash your face, and attempt some form of skincare routine. After this you head to the kitchen, and there’s a vase of flowers - with a note in front of it. 

“(Y/N), 

I don't want you to ever think I don't love you because I didn’t say it back last night. Ever since I was young, its been hard for me to learn how to love and how to trust - but you make it easy. I love you so much it hurts, and I would do anything for you - I’d give you the stars if you wanted and if that isn’t enough the moon. I love you because you’re smart, the smartest person I’ve ever met. Your mind amazes me, I love you because you’re sweet and you’re great with kids. You’re the only person I’ve seen tolerate all my brothers with a straight face, you’ve cooked with Alfred, and even managed to get my father to approve of you. You’re able to talk to Damian easier than I do and he won’t admit it but he thinks you’re great. I love you because you’re kind, because you’re sweet, and because you make me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before. I was scared, that once you said that - it meant I had something to loose. 

Love,

Jason 

You turn around and Jason is behind you, the tips of his ears are pink like they get when he’s nervous. He pulls you into his arms and leans his chin onto your head. “I love you forever, princess.”

John 14:6 -Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

Thank you for reading!

[literallypyro]

Three (mostly) random headcanons for all the mercs!

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint

Scout:

-He can cook, but only WITHOUT a recipe. Look, I know he's illiterate, so just imagine someone's reading it to him, mkay? Idk what it is, but when he has to follow a recipe, it ends in disaster. Let him wing it, and you'll think you're at a 5 star restaurant.

-Tells his mom all about you. She basically knows everything about you, and it's not because she asked.

-Total malewife. What you say GOES (unless you tell him to stop buying Bonk. That's a losing battle, toots. When has a little radiation ever hurt anyone?)

Soldier:

-While this man is virtually never quiet, he's noticeably the least loud around you. Unless you feed into his loudness. If that's the case, may God have mercy on the rest of the team's souls.

-He isn't book smart, and with a lot of people, emotional intelligence isn't really his strong suit either. But around you? It's like this mf has a sixth sense. It's almost concerning. You CANNOT hide your emotions from this guy.

-Please for the love of all that is American, take this man to a chiropractor. I know he's used to rocket jumping, but that's precisely the issue. He doesn't even realize how fucked up his joints are.

Pyro:

-Actually the sweetest ever. Just cuz they're crazy doesn't mean they aren't the silliest hopeless romantic ever. Can't kiss you through the mask, but will damn sure try. They have left a print on your cheek from pressing their mask into it before, and they will do it again.

-If someone disrespects you, they will be catching Pyro's hands. The flamethrower will be saved for when the idiot who insulted you can't use any of their limbs.

-CLINGS to you when it's bed time. You'll have to wait until they fall asleep if you want out of their grasp (but why would you?)

Demoman:

-Never short on stories. If you're bored, just say so, and he already has five stories in mind that he hasn't told you yet. Sometimes he laughs a little too hard and it takes a minute to get back to the story.

-PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE compliment this man. We see how quickly he can swing between insecure and confident. Additionally, he would absolutely adore any eye patches you make him. If you make him multiple, he's switching them out every day. Make ones for specific occasions, and bro is at your mercy.

-If you can out drink him, or even just keep up, he's lowkey worried about you. He knows he has a problem. He's actually pretty realistic about it. He WILL be asking if there's something you want to talk about at some point.

Heavy:

-He knows you don't need to be protected at all times, but he has a hard time letting you defend yourself. Just look at the way he grew up. A big chunk of this man's personality is just "bodyguard to loved ones". You will have to bring his attention to it if you want him to back off, and as soon as you do, he listens. It's mostly out of habit, if I'm being honest.

-Lord help anyone who makes you uncomfortable. He gets such a threatening look on his face as he asks the person questions that don't SOUND like threats, but they damn sure feel like threats.

-Oh, you thought he wouldn't go out of his way to write translated versions of his Russian books so you can read them when he's not around? Well you're WRONG. If you ask if he has translated versions of his books, he won't tell you he was the one who translated them, but you recognize his handwriting.

Engineer:

-This guy will grill out every single day if you ask him to. Burgers? Got it. Hot dogs? Easy peasy. Smoked ribs? Don't gotta ask him twice! Mans will make sure every craving you have is satisfied, or may lightning strike him where he stands.

-He has already memorized your schedule. You were about to take a shower but- it's already on? No one's in there??? And it's at the perfect temperature???? Not to mention how your laundry was mysteriously folded when you were too tired to do it all at once... Safe to say, even though it was unintentional, he has committed every single one of your habits to memory like a tattoo.

-This man is a thinking, breathing jukebox. Can play literally any song from any genre off the top of his head. He can also easily convert songs to different genres.

Medic:

-He actually has amazing handwriting when it comes to signatures. The only reason he writes like a stereotypical doctor is because he wants to be able to switch up last second if he needs to.

-You are one of the very few people he trusts to watch his birds, and it's because he knows you know how he is. Did you forget about the whole baboon uterus thing? Surely not.

-Actually surprisingly careful with you. He'd be mentally punching himself if the rib thing with Heavy happened to you. Even owns your soul so the devil can't try to use you against him.

Sniper:

-Your are literally the only reason he would sleep in the base at night, but he REALLY prefers you sleep in the camper with him. He's kinda clingy, but not to Pyro's extent. Seeing how he is with everyone else, he obviously understands personal space.

-Secretly has the voice of an angel. He has intense stage fright about it, though, so NOBODY is about to find out.

-If you're scared or over-cautious of animals, he's definitely gonna fix that. He'll ease you into it, but given the time, you will have pet and fed every animal he can get his hands on.

Spy:

-We've all seen how much of a romantic this guy is. You are getting absolutely SPOILED ROTTEN when he is around. Hold his arm anytime you want. You want flowers? Tell him which ones, what color, and from where, darling. Can't dance? Well, he's pretending not to notice. He gazes at you lovingly, and you can't even tell he's in immense pain from you stepping on his feet.

-Has every high end cologne and has a different one for every occasion. This guy has SO MANY. He even has different ones for different restaurants. You could consider it a hyperfixation if you wanted to.

-You are his queen/king/monarch and WILL NOT let you forget it. Tells you every single day, sometimes multiple times a day how important you are to him and how much he cherishes you. Who cares if the team is around? They're just mad he got to you first, ma beauté.

[heissenn]

ASTRAL EXPRESS' RESIDENT SLUT

imagine being the resident slut of the astral express. just himeko, march and stelle making you take care of their insatiable sexual needs. they're free to take you anywhere and anytime they'd like. you're at their beck and call and you're more than happy to serve.

stelle is always ecstatic and eager, takes advantage of this situation. she’s not afraid to tell you how horny she is and would love for you to take care of the aching sweetness between her legs. lil raccoon is also bold enough to give you frisky touches in public.

“stelle— what are you—ah!” you whisper between breaths as you hear the sound of your zipper becoming undone, the culprit smirking beside you. her eyes glower with undisguised lust. “i can’t wait anymore. i’ve been wanting to do this all day.” you think you hallucinated a small pool of saliva gathering in the side of her pinkish lips. like an eager dog. she bends down to level her head to yours and gave the shell of your ear a small lick. “you’re the one who said anywhere anytime.” she whispers, her voice pulsing and settling in your core. “someone might catch—nngh—us.” you breath as you feel her palm you through the fabric of your underwear. stelle grabs your hand and guides it to press against your mouth. “try your best to stay quiet then.” stelle answers while her fingers tug the hem of your panties upwards, effectively rubbing the cloth through your wet folds. “or you could scream my name until the whole train knows how im making you feel good.” the taller woman finally couldn’t wait anymore and pushed your panties to the side to make way for her long fingers. “whichever is fine by me, baby.”

march 7th actually took the most time to have the courage and actually sleep with you after this new proposition has been settled. and even more time to get used to it and trust you. but oh is it so worth the wait cuz once she warms up to the whole thing, she’s going to you try out every kink under the sun. unlike stelle, who wants to hump you every second of every day, she only comes to you when all of her buttons are pushed and needs desperate release. but as time passes by she gets addicted to the rush and before she knows she’s as horny for you as stelle.

march stands in front of your door after a series of awry missions. she feels her emotions bubbling up and threatening to combust. she had tried to take care of it by herself numerous times already but nothing ever seems to satisfy her. before she could press her knuckles to the cold hard metal, the door swings open to reveal you. the sight of you in short shorts and a tank top brings her closer to the edge more than all the times she had touch herself combined. “i was wondering when you’re gonna come around,” you smile at her as you step aside to let her in. “uhh, how are we supposed to go about this,” march stammers as her face takes a bright red color. her hesitation and nervousness a stark difference from her usual self. you smile as you close the distance between your bodies. “well, how do you want this to be.” march feels your breath fan her face. and before her mind could come up with excuses she brings her lips to yours. after a beat, she confesses in a hurried hush, "i just want to feel good." please, she begs.

himeko likes to keep up her pride and reputation not just as the navigator but as a respected lady as well. so whenever she initiates something it is always subtle. she'd spout something like her room is much more warmer than yours, you should sleep there. or that she wants you to try a new blend she came up with. as much as she wants you, she wants you to be the one on all fours clawing and begging her to fuck you. and of course, you’d never notice how ready she was to devour you until you’re actually beneath her.

himeko is very confident in how well she knows you. for example, like you can never refuse her which made it easy to invite you share a bath together. she also knows that you cannot stop staring at her naked body. she can barely hide her smirk at your apparent embarrassment. she weaves her body through the water to scoot closer to you and the waves carry the heat from you body to her. “is there something you want to say, darling?” himeko places ghosts her hands over your thigh, your small shivers creating ripples in the water. “stop teasing me, himeko” you mutter through rough breaths, the room felt foggy and hot, all too much heat. “not even a 'please'? i see the other two has been spoiling you a lot.” before you could come to your defense, himeko adds, “no worries, im happy to make you remember how to properly use your words again.”

ALSO! himeko teaching the other two how to please a woman with you as the test subject. she'd spread you in a table and point at your most sensitive spots just to prove a point. she wouldn't let them touch, no, at least not after she's had her fun with you. secretly, himeko likes to show off her experience, she likes the power trip more than she'd like to admit.

march and stelle would use you for ‘practice’. and they’re actually fast learners, its hard not to notice when they’re making you cum faster than last.

himeko would praise them for their good work and let them bathe in their improvement before diving in on you and demonstrating how to please properly. she makes sure you scream much louder and faster.

eventually, it turns into a competition between the three on who can make you cum faster, harder or make you moan louder. they’d pass you around and would make you go for rounds after rounds until you’re milked dry.

himeko spreads your legs wider from behind as your pussy is showcased in front of two curious faces. her long experienced finger glides along the root of your thigh, close yet far to your core. suddenly she pinched your bud in one swift move, you let out a scream of pleasure. “and this is where the magic happens.” “most females require stimulation on the clit to climax and our little pet is no exception,” she lectures calmly as she leans further in to you, her huge soft breasts poking your back. “isn’t that right, darling?” she whispers. stelle's hand flies up in the air like a student in class. “she likes it when i tug on it with my lips!” she exclaims excitedly. despite your whimpers, himeko continues, “before any penetration, make sure that she is properly wet.” the navigator slaps your pussy and a juicy squelching sound echoed through the room. march and stelle salivates at the sight in front of them. “i guess there’s no need to worry about that,” stelle giggles and licks her lips. “when’s gonna be my turn? you keep hogging her to yourself, himeko,” march complains as her hands reach down to rub herself through her shorts. “patience, our lecture has just started.”

[melyxssa]

Love Me Harder

An amazing collaboration with @metallicames !! ❥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Description: 1991, You and James are friends with benefits, but you knew each other since you were in high school and since then you’ve been inseparable… but lately, during James’ last tour something changed, making you doubt about your special friendship, or so you thought until that night…

Warnings: smut, angst, unprotected sex, fingering

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Cause if you want to keep me

You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta got to love me harder

And if you really need me

You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta got to love me harder

Gotta love me harder”

-“Love me harder”, by Ariana Grande & The Weeknd

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Being James Hetfield's friend with benefits has never been easy, it's actually like being on a roller coaster: you never know what might happen, what mood he'll be in, or when you'll see him next.

I haven’t heard from him in days… he was having some gigs with his band around the country, he promised to call me so he could tell me how his tour was going but the last call was two weeks ago by now. We’ve been friends since we were in high school and talking to each other about our lives always been a habit, but now that his career became bigger he changed: the alcohol his destroying him but he doesn’t seem to care, but I do…

I was having my work break during my night shift, while he was probably getting ready for another show, I couldn’t help and decided to call his hotel. A lady answers my call before sending it to James’ room; I heard him answering the phone “Yeah?” I could identify his drunk and probably high voice through the speaker “James, it’s me Y/N…” he sighed heavily hearing my voice “…you didn’t call, I wanted to know if you are doing okay” my voice was low, I felt like he didn’t want to hear me.

James sighed heavily into the phone again, his words slurred slightly as he spoke."Fuck, Y/N... I've been busy, alright? Shit's been crazy with the tour and all..."

He took a long swig of his beer, the sound of liquid glugging echoed through the receiver. James grimaced slightly at the bitter taste, but continued to drink nevertheless. “I figured, but I was worried about you, that’s all…” I tried to be more sensitive as possible trying to bring him back to reality noticing that he wasn’t sober.

"Look, I ain't got time for this fuckin' heart-to-heart bullshit right now, ya know? I got a fuckin' show to play in like, an hour..." he never been this cold with me, the previous years was always euphoric to tell me about his tour, but this time is different. “James I just-“

James's voice dropped to a low, irritated murmur. "I'm fine, 'kay? Just fuckin' alright here. Stop worryin' about me like I'm some fuckin' damsel in distress or somethin'..."

He letted out another exasperated sigh, running a hand through his long, dirty blonde hair. "I'll call ya when I get back, 'kay? Now quit bein' such a fuckin' girl about this shit..."

Without waiting for a response, James slammed the phone down, cutting me off mid-sentence. I was speechless, hurt, that wasn’t the James that I used to know… I waited for a call that night and the days after and it never came.

Today, a few weeks later after our last talk I had the worst day at work, after replacing my colleague’s shift that lasted four hours more then my usual, I came back home exhausted, with the only thought of sleeping and finally relaxing with the thunders and rain sounds through the windows hoping to finally stop overthinking about him; After a few hours the storm wakes me from a restless sleep. Thunder shaking the windows, and the rain lashing against the glass like a fist. I turn over in bed, trying to reclaim the warmth of dreams, when the intercom ring sharp and insistent, cutting through the night like a blade.

I glance at the clock: 3:20 a.m.

Disoriented, I stumble toward the intercom. “Who is it?”

“It’s me...” The voice is low, hoarse, heavy with something unspoken. “James.”

It takes me a moment to believe it. “James? What… what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. Can I come up?”

I don’t hesitate. I press the button and unlock the door. I wait in the doorway, pulling the thin fabric of my sleep shirt tighter around me. When I see him climb the stairs, my breath stops.

He is soaked to the bone, rainwater dripping from his hair, his clothes clinging to his body. His eyes are unfocused, his steps unsteady, i can tell he'd been drinking. But there is something else too: a desperation clinging to him like the storm itself.

“Are you insane?” I whisper, pulling him inside. “You’ll catch your death out there.”

He doesn’t answer. He just stay there, eyes locked on mine with an intensity that make me forget the cold. I peele his wet jacket off him, and the heat of his body surprises me, he feels feverish, trembling. Then he steps closer, and before I could speak, his hands are on my face, and his mouth crashes into mine.

It ain’t a kiss. It’s a plea.

And I answer it.

We kiss like we are trying to drown in each other. There is no space, no air, only heat and hunger. We stumble through the hallway, shedding wet clothes as we keep walking, lips never parting for long. My back hits the bedroom door, and we fall onto the bed, still tangled in half-removed shirts, his hands roaming, urgent and rough, like he needed to feel every inch of me to believe I am real. James's breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps as he hovers over me, his blue eyes dark and intense in the low light. He can feel the heat radiating off my skin, the soft curves of my body beneath his trembling hands. The alcohol coursing through his veins only amplified his desperate need to lose himself in me, to forget the chaos and darkness that haunted his every waking moment.

He captures my lips again in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. One hand tangles in my hair, gripping it tightly as he angles my head to deepen the kiss, while the other hand slides down the smooth column of my throat, feeling my pulse jump beneath his touch.

James's hips ground against mine, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against my core. He needs me, needs to be inside of me, needs to feel something real. The world outside this room fades away, the storm still raging but now nothing more than a distant hum, a muffled soundtrack to our desperate coupling.

He breaks the kiss with a harsh gasp, his forehead falling to rest against mine as he struggles to catch his breath. His voice is a low, ragged whisper when he spoke, his words hot against my lips. “I need you. I need to feel you. Now..."

James's hands roamed my body with a desperate, almost frantic hunger, calloused fingers skimming over the soft curves of my breasts, my stomach, my hips. He pushes my shirt up and off, tossing it carelessly to the side, before leaning down to take one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh until I cry out in pleasure-pain.

His other hand slides between my thighs, roughly pushing my panties aside to delve into the slick heat of my core. He groans against my breast when he feels how wet I am, two fingers plunging deep inside of me, pumping in and out of my tight channel.

I can feel every inch of him, hard and heavy against my thigh as he looms over me, his hips rocking forward, seeking friction. With a low curse, he takes off his own shirt, revealing the lean, muscular expanse of his chest, the light dusting of hair glistening with rainwater and sweat.

James kicks off his jeans, leaving him bare and exposed, his thick hard cock ready to be used. He settles between my thighs, the head of his erection nudging against my entrance, and with one hard thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt inside of me.

I gasp at the sudden intrusion, my back arching off the bed as I adjust to the feeling of him stretching me wide, filling me so completely. He set a fast, almost punishing pace, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust of his hips.

One hand grips my hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding me in place as he takes his pleasure from my body. The other hand slides beneath my ass, tilting my hips up to meet each driving thrust. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with our harsh pants and moans.

The storm outside rage, but it only echoes the storm between us the frantic rhythm of skin on skin, the harsh gasps, the sound of the bed creaking beneath the weight of something more than lust.

He is above me, inside me, and I clung to him as if letting go would shatter something irreparable. There is no space for thought only the relentless surge of his hips, the grip of his hands on my thighs, the heat building between us like fire under wet wood.

And then, in the middle of it all in the middle of the madness I hear it. A breath, a tremor.

“I love you.”

I freeze.

My body doesn’t stop, but something inside me does, like the world is slipping sideways. My fingers grip his shoulders. My voice is barely audible, a thread of disbelief.

“What?” I whisper, not daring to believe what I just heard. “James… what did you say?”

He slows down, just enough to meet my eyes. His own are dark, wet not only for alcohol anymore, but something deeper. He holds my gaze and say it again, slower this time, with a clarity that cut through me.

“I love you.”

The words hung there, raw and exposed, heavier than anything else in the room. My chest hurts. Everything in me screams to me to hold on and to run at the same time.

But I don’t move. I reach up, tangle my fingers in his damp hair, and kiss him like it is the first time and maybe the last.

As James's hips stilled, buried deep inside of me, I can feel his cock pulsing and throbbing, hot seed spurting in thick ropes to paint my insides. The sensation of his release triggers my own, and I come with a sharp cry, my inner walls clenching and fluttering around him, milking every last drop of his essence.

My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, I gasp beneath him, back bowed, fingers clawing at his shoulders as I ride out the intense pleasure, wave after wave of bliss consuming me.

James groans low in his throat, hips grinding against mine as he prolongs both our peaks. He can feel me coming undone around him, my silken walls gripping his sensitive flesh like a vise. It is almost too much, the intensity of it, the raw, primal connection.

Even as the aftershocks begin to subside, James doesn’t pull away. He collapses against me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his face buries in the crook of my neck. Our chests heavy together, sweat-slicked skin sliding against sweat-slicked skin, as we struggle to catch our breath.

The air between us is thick with the musky scent of sex and the weight of unspoken emotions.

This night ain’t just a mistake or a relapse. It ain’t just sex. We cling to each other like the storm outside might swallow us whole. And even though fear grips my chest the fear that tomorrow he’d disappear again, that morning light would erase all of this I let myself believe, just for that night.

In this moment, I am his. Entirely. And for the first time, it feels like he is mine too.

The harsh light of morning pierces through the curtains, falling across the tangled sheets and naked limbs of our spent bodies. I wake up first, blinking away the remnants of sleep, taking in the sight of James's face on the pillow beside me. His features are relaxed in slumber, the usual tension gone, leaving him looking almost boyish. Almost vulnerable.

I glance down at our bodies, still entwined, the sheet kicked down to our waists. The room is a mess, clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, the air thick with the scent of sex and the faint aroma of alcohol still clinging to James's skin.

I softly stand up from the bed trying to not wake him up, collecting a top and pair of shorts heading towards the kitchen.

As I reach for a mug from the cabinet, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see James, still naked except for a pair of boxers. His hair is disheveled, falling in loose waves around his face.

He pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His eyes, still heavy from sleep.

I can see him swallow hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, as he meets my gaze. The air between us feels charged, the silence heavy with the weight of last night's passion and the unspoken words left lingering on our tongues.

James remains quiet, his expression guarded, as he studies me. It is clear that he is still processing, still trying to reconcile the events of the night with the harsh light of day. “Morning…” I say breaking the awkward silence between us “…you want something for breakfast?” I ask him again trying to keep it cool but inside me I am screaming thinking about what he told me last night, I know he wasn’t completely sober but he wasn’t drunk of course, maybe those three words were actually true… “Just gimme a beer” he says, I stop what I was doing before looking at him with a disappointed expression before seeing him laughing “I’m playing with ya’… a coffee would be perfect” I sigh at his joke before preparing everything for both of us.

“Here you go” I say giving him the mug. The silence is deep, again, my thoughts are killing me from the inside while I keep thinking about everything that we had hours before, I can’t take this anymore “James…” I start keeping my eyes focused on my coffee “Mh?” He simply replies making things more difficult for me “About last night… uhm… Were you serious?” I spit out nervously “About what?” He asks leaning down on the chair “About what you told to me…” he doesn’t say anything, he probably knows but he doesn’t want to touch the topic “Listen Y/N, whatever I said that wasn’t the right moment, I was probably too much turned on my the moment and-“ I know him, I know him too well “So you remember…” he freezes “why you playing this shit with me James?” That’s enough he can’t treat me like one of his tour girls I’m not like them and he knows it “I’m not playing with you, I’m just-“ he tries to justify himself “You are what? What’s your goal of being this distant with me? We’ve been best friends for years and now you are acting like a total dick: you disappear, then you come here, you fuck me saying that you love me, then you deny everything! What do you want from me?!” I snap, standing up from the chair, hands in my hair, I go back to my bedroom trying to stay calm starting to feel my eyes filling with tears, I was ready to tell him that his feelings are the same that were hunting me since he left for the tour, but now I’m regretting everything.

I lay down on the bed for a few minutes before feeling the mattress moving behind me, a hand gripping my waist. James’ mustache rubbing my skin while he places a soft kiss on it “I’m sorry for being such a dick sometimes” he says softly “You are always a dick James” I say making him escape a little laugh “I meant everything that I said yesterday night…” he finally admits; my heart starts to beat faster at his words “…Never been a moment where I didn’t think about you when I was with the band. But I was too scared about this feeling that I lost myself with the alcohol…” he sounds so miserable, vulnerable but he finally opens to me “I love you too James…”I turn around to look at him, his blue eyes studying me, I could see his happiness in them thanks to my words “ya’ do?” He asks “yes… but promise me you will let me help you to deal with your emotions and these alcohol problems” he smiles softly at my words, placing a kiss on my lips “I want you to help me Y/N, you are the only one that can do that”.

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-mel & ally