#she's had to be the cool and confident grown-up for so long

[hazzashouse]

The Unattainable Princess (Prince!Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: I had this one in my drafts for a while and I’m not sure I still like it but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Enjoy!

Summary: Prince Harry is captivated by Princess Y/N, but when she coolly declines his invitation to dance, he interrupts her dance with another prince to claim her attention.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and polished shoes, a world of grandeur Harry had long since grown accustomed to. He moved through it with the same ease and confidence, a Prince who had spent years perfecting the art of royal events. But tonight—tonight was different.

Princess Y/N.

The rumors of her beauty and indifference were not exaggerated. She stood across the room, surrounded by eager courtiers and noblemen, yet it was clear she was untouched by it all. She held herself with such grace, an air of self-assuredness that was impossible to ignore. Her icy calm had only intrigued Harry more. He liked a challenge.

He watched her, as always, a faint smirk curling on his lips. No one had ever resisted his charms for long. Why would she be any different?

After making his rounds through the guests, Harry decided it was time to approach her. The orchestra played a soft waltz, and the crowd swirled around them like a dream. He made his way over with ease, his confident stride unwavering. When he reached her, he bowed low, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, flashing a smile that usually sent hearts fluttering. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

For a moment, she studied him with those cool, unreadable eyes. Harry leaned in slightly, basking in the way she seemed to take her time. But when she spoke, her tone was nothing like the adoration he’d expected.

“I’m afraid I must decline, Prince Harry,” she said, her voice polite but firm. “I’m already engaged for this dance.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he masked it with a chuckle. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “How fortunate for your partner.” He lingered for a moment, waiting for her to soften, to relent. But Y/N remained poised, unbothered, her gaze now drifting away from him, returning to the conversation she’d been having before.

Harry stood there for a heartbeat longer, his mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and irritation. He had never been turned down like this—not once in his life. He was used to women falling at his feet, charmed by a smile, a word, the magic of his presence. But Y/N? She wasn’t like anyone else.

As if to punctuate the distance between them, Y/N turned to a tall, dark-haired Prince who had been waiting nearby. With a polite nod, she placed her hand in his, and the two of them began to glide across the dance floor together.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. It was like a slap to the face. The audacity—she was dancing with him, with him. A man he knew was nothing more than a glorified title, a prince with no real power or purpose. But she had chosen him. And not Harry.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he crossed the ballroom, his steps deliberate, almost predatory. He approached the couple mid-dance, catching the eye of the Prince and offering a nod. But it was Y/N who held his attention. She didn’t even glance his way when he arrived—she was lost in the music, in the sway of the dance.

Harry’s voice was low but deliberate as he interrupted. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an edge. “I do believe this is my dance.”

The Prince gave him a tight smile, but Harry barely acknowledged him, his eyes fixed on Y/N. She blinked in surprise, looking up at him for the first time since he’d approached. Her expression was unreadable, but Harry could see the faintest flicker of annoyance in her gaze.

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “I’m afraid I’ve already accepted this dance.”

Harry leaned in slightly, his words deliberately casual as he gave her an amused smile. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now, would we?” he said, his eyes twinkling with that familiar arrogance.

Y/N’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t speak at first. The orchestra swelled around them, and the Prince she had been dancing with stepped back, a hint of confusion crossing his features as Harry took his place beside Y/N.

“I’m not here to make a scene, Princess,” Harry said, his hand coming to rest at her waist, pulling her gently into the dance. “Just to dance with the woman who’s managed to make me feel… thoroughly intrigued.”

Y/N said nothing for a moment, her fingers stiff against his. But Harry could feel the tension in her. She was resisting, resisting him in a way no one ever had before, and it drove him mad.

“You must think very highly of yourself, don’t you?” she said at last, her voice dripping with cool detachment. “I’ve danced with countless men, Prince, but none of them have ever interrupted another’s dance as you have.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with a hint of challenge. “And yet, here we are,” he replied smoothly, his thumb brushing over her hand as they moved across the floor. “You haven’t pushed me away yet.”

She glanced up at him then, and Harry was struck by the hardness in her gaze, the way she seemed entirely unaffected by his presence. She was different—so different—and it was both maddening and magnetic.

“Don’t mistake my courtesy for interest,” Y/N said, her voice steady but cutting. “You’ve made your point, Prince Harry. But I don’t need to be won. I’m not a prize for you to claim.”

For the first time, Harry faltered. There was no charm to be used here, no clever line that could break through her reserve. She wasn’t falling for him, and it unnerved him. She didn’t care for his title, his charm, his reputation. She wasn’t impressed.

And somehow, that made him want her even more.

[sage-reads-things]

She's still blushing like crazyyyyyy I love it <333

But genuinely, this must be such a sweet gesture from Mutsumi's point of view. The whole date, she was having fun with Taiyo by doing couple-y stuff at the amusement park, but she was also spending most of it taking charge: she showed up to save him, worked around his bumbled attempts to be romantic, and generally guided him through the whole thing. She probably had the same goal as Taiyo (have fun on a date), but unlike Taiyo, she went in assuming that it wasn't a DATE date. So the rose catches her completely by surprise because she wasn't expecting him to do anything overtly romantic. When was the last time she was able to be caught by surprise, and by something so endearingly mundane at that?

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Unbidden

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.

Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.

She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.

The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.

Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it. 

It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.

She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.

The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.

She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.

Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.

“What is it?” He snaps.

Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.

“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.

Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.

“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”

The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.

“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”

Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress. 

The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.

Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”

“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.

She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.

“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.

It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.

“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”

Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”

She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.

“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”

Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”

A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: ���no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.

She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.

“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”

She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.

“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.

He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”

The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery. 

Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.

“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.

She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.

“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”

His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.

“Does he touch you like this?”

“N–no…” she whimpers in response.

“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”

Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.

As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.

Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”

She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.

Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.

It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.

Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.

She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”

He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be. 

The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.

“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.

He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.

Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.

“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.

“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.

Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.

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[spicymambaae]

The story is a continuation of Karina Moans II

----

Giselle stepped into their dorm, the cool air greeting her as she stepped out of her gym shoes. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching pleasantly from the day's workout. With a contented sigh, she made her way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the remnants of her exertion.

She stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly soothing her tired muscles after an intense workout at the gym. As the warm droplets cascaded down her body, her mind, still buzzing from the endorphin rush, inevitably wandered back to Karina and Winter. She couldn’t get the image out of her head—the video she had accidentally seen on Karina's tablet earlier that week.

Her thoughts drifted to the explicit video, the sounds of Karina's moans and gasps echoing in her mind. She recalled the sight of Winter, strap-on harness snugly fitted around her hips, dominating Karina with confident thrusts. Giselle's breath quickened as she pictured Karina's breasts jiggling with each thrust, her erect nipples begging for attention. The contrast of Winter's strong, purposeful motions and Karina's yielding, pleasure-filled responses sent a jolt through Giselle's body.

As she lathered her hair, her hands moved sensually over her own breasts, her fingers gently pinching her erect nipples. Her mind replayed the scene of Winter's tongue swirling and sucking on Karina’s breasts. Giselle's own breath quickened as she fantasized about being the recipient of such passionate oral devotion.

Her hands slowly traveled downward, her fingers gently brushing against her flat stomach and dangerously close to her core. She remembered the way Winter's fingers had danced up and down Karina's slit, making her shudder with anticipation. Giselle's thighs clenched involuntarily as she contemplated touching herself, her fingers itching to explore her own sensitive folds.

But suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, dousing the flames of desire that had threatened to consume her. "What am I doing?" she thought, her heart pounding. "They're my group members and my friends. This is so wrong. I shouldn't be fantasizing about them like this." She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to extinguish the fire that had ignited within her. “They’re my friends… they’re my friends… AND THEY ARE FUCKING EACH OTHER!?”

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Giselle turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel. She stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying her hair, her mind in turmoil. The image of Karina and Winter, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined, refused to leave her mind. She tried to make sense of it all, her thoughts a jumble of arousal, confusion, and a hint of anger.

“They're my friends and freakin adults”, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. “If they want to fuck each other's brains out, it's their business. I shouldn't let it affect me like this.” She attempted to rationalize their actions, thinking of them as two grown women with healthy sexual appetites. “Horny asses”, she thought with a mix of amusement and frustration “can't even keep their panties on.”

But the fact that they were members of one of the biggest a K-pop groups together added a layer of complexity to the situation. Giselle knew the industry was filled with strict rules and expectations, and the thought of her group members breaking those rules aroused and angered her simultaneously.

“When did this even start?” she wondered. “How long have they been sneaking around behind everyone's backs?” She wanted answers, but a part of her also feared the potential consequences of digging too deep.

As she dressed, her movements were mechanical, her mind still reeling. Giselle's eyes drifted shut as she imagined Winter's tongue teasing Karina's clit, the sounds of their moans and gasps filling the room. She bit her lip, her breath quickening. "Damn it," she muttered, opening her eyes and shaking her head. "Snap out of it, Giselle. This is getting out of hand." She tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on the upcoming rehearsals and promotions. But the image of Karina's tablet, hidden beneath the pillow, kept flashing in her mind, a constant reminder of the secret she now shared with her group members.

Giselle took a deep breath, she knew that ignoring the situation wasn't an option. The curiosity was eating away at her, and she needed to understand the dynamics between Karina and Winter. Maybe they're just exploring their sexuality, she thought. Maybe it's a one-time thing.

The rationalization brought her a moment of calm, but deep down, she knew that the truth might be more complicated. Giselle felt trapped between her loyalty to her friends and her desire to uncover their secrets. The thought of them together, their moans echoing in her mind, only added fuel to her conflicting emotions.

With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair, accepting the inevitable. “I can’t believe this; I must be losing my mind.” She began to question her own sanity. “I need to see it again.”

Giselle stood at the threshold of her room. The clashing emotions battled inside her, but her desire to uncover the truth was winning.

She took a step back, leaning against the door frame, her mind racing. “I need to know more”, she thought. “I need to see it with my own eyes again.” The thought of witnessing her friends fucking both excited and scared her, but the pull was too strong to resist.

With a determined stride, Giselle entered her room and made her way to her bed. She knelt down and reached beneath the pillow, her heart pounding. Her fingers closed around the smooth surface of Karina's tablet, and she drew it out.

Holding the device in her hands, Giselle hesitated for a moment. “Am I really going to do this?” she asked herself. “What if they find out?” But the temptation was too great, and she swiped her finger across the screen, unlocking it with the password she had seen Karina enter.

She navigated to the hidden folder, her breath quickening as she recalled the explicit content within. Her thumb hovered over the play button, her heart racing as if she were about to uncover a forbidden treasure.

Giselle closed her eyes for a brief moment, steeling herself for what she was about to witness. Then, with a click, she pressed play.

The scene began with Karina setting the camera on a cabinet, the lens capturing the hotel room and the bed in the center. Karina plunged onto the bed, her legs dangling off the side, her back facing the camera.

As the camera focused on Karina, Giselle's breath caught in her throat. There, walking into the frame, was Winter, clad only in her panties, her perky breasts on full display as she towel-dried her hair. Giselle's eyes widened further, taking in the sight of Winter's toned body and the mischievous grin on her face.

"I can't believe we convinced Giselle to share a room with NingNing," Winter said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. As she slowly walked between Karina's legs, the camera captured the playful seduction unfolding. Karina let out a low laugh and agreed, "Especially knowing there's no bathtub in their room."

At this, Giselle scoffed. "You fucking bitches," she muttered under her breath. "I didn't get the bathtub because you two wanted to fuck?!?!"

Giselle's eyes narrowed, her curiosity battling within her. She watched, transfixed, as Karina made a move to slowly get up, her hands reaching for Winter’s waist. But Winter had other plans. She pushed Karina back down onto the bed and slowly climbed over her body, her movements deliberate and teasing.

"Ya, ya, ya" Karina gasped, her voice breathy as Winter settled comfortably on top of her.

Winter's grin widened as she looked down at Karina, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on," she purred, her voice a low, sultry murmur. "You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?"

Karina's hands instinctively rested on Winter's hips, her fingers brushing against her thighs. "And what exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, her voice a mix of playful curiosity and genuine affection.

Winter's fingers traced light, teasing patterns along Karina's breasts, slightly squeezing. "You already forgot what you told me on the plane?" she teased, her eyes locked with Karina's.

Karina's breath caught in her throat, "Why don't you remind me?" she challenged.

Giselle's heart raced as she watched the flirtatious exchange, feeling like a voyeur to a private moment between her friends. She found herself leaning forward, her eyes glued to the screen, eager to hear Winter's response.

And Winter delivered. With a playful grin, she climbed up Karina's body until her clothed pussy was positioned directly over Karina's face. Giselle gasped at the bold move, her eyes widening as Winter slowly lowered herself, sitting on her friend’s face.

Karina didn't hesitate. Giselle heard her moans as her tongue teased the fabric of Winter's panties. Winter pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Do you remember now?" she asked, her voice thick with arousal.

Karina nodded eagerly, her hands reaching up to grasp Winter's waist. Without breaking eye contact, Winter hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them aside, fully exposing herself to Karina's waiting mouth.

Giselle bit her lip, holding her breath as Karina flicked out her tongue to taste Winter. But Winter quickly pulled back, denying her the pleasure. With a firm grip on Karina's chin, she asked again, "I didn’t hear you. Do you remember what you told me?"

Karina's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I remember," she said, "I remember telling you that I want you to cum all over my face and scream my name."

Giselle's breath caught in her throat as she listened to Karina's confession. She couldn’t believe the words coming from her friend’s mouth. She could feel the raw, unfiltered desire radiating from the video, and it sent a jolt of arousal through her own body.

Winter moaned as she lowered herself, feeling Karina's tongue flick against her clit. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hips rocking involuntarily. Without warning, Karina sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it expertly.

Winter cried out, her hands tangling in Karina's hair as she pulled her closer. "Make me cum all over your pretty face," she panted, her body arching towards Karina's eager mouth. “Come on, taste me, baby.”

Karina moaned in response, the vibrations sending shivers through Minjeong's body. "You taste so fucking good," she mumbled between licks and sucks. "I could eat this sweet pussy forever."

The contrast between their public personas and their private lives was staggering, and Giselle found herself intrigued, aroused, and more curious than ever.

Giselle watched in disbelief, her eyes widening as the angle of the video suddenly changed. The scene now unfolded from Winter's point of view, as she held a camera in one hand while riding Karina's face. She couldn’t believe her eyes—the filthiness of her friends knew no bounds.

She felt a throb between her legs as she witnessed Karina's eyes staring directly into the camera, her tongue parting Winter's folds, lapping eagerly at her clit.

"You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my pussy," Winter cooed, "Look at me while you eat me out." Giselle heard the lust in Winter's voice, the command laced with need.

Winter held Karina's head gently, guiding her movements. She started rocking her hips, gliding her wetness over Karina's mouth, the camera capturing the lewd sight of Karina's tongue flicking and teasing her clit.

"Look at me," Winter insisted, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "Watch me as you make me cum." Karina obediently locked her gaze with Winter’s as she continued to pleasure her.

Giselle could hear the lewd, wet sounds of Karina sucking on Winter's pussy, the slurping noises filling her ears. The sight of Karina's tongue probing, delving, and the glistening wetness of Winter's folds was almost too much for Giselle to bear.

Winter moaned, her body convulsing in sheer pleasure. "Yes, baby, don’t stop," she breathed, her hips moving faster, grinding against Karina's mouth with abandon. "Suck my clit," she pleaded.

The camera, still held in Winter's hand, captured the moment in exquisite detail. Giselle watched as Karina swirled her tongue around Winter's engorged clit.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Karina parted her lips and sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, gently tugging and releasing it with a soft pop. Giselle could swear she could feel the suction.

Karina's tongue then ventured lower, nibbling on Winter's puffy pussy lips, her clit twitching and throbbing for attention.

Again, Karina wrapped her lips around Winter's clit, sucking gently while her tongue swirled relentlessly. Giselle could hear the wet sounds of Karina's tongue swirling and lapping at Winter's clit, the camera shaking slightly as Winter struggled to maintain her grip. Karina slowly pulled away, releasing it with another wet pop that made Winter gasp and arch her back.

Winter slightly pulled away, the overwhelming sensation causing her to catch her breath.

The angle of the video switched back to the original view, showing Karina stretching her neck, her tongue darting out to taste Winter once more. "I want more," Karina whined, her hands gripping Winter's thighs. Winter's eyes darkened with lust, her gaze fixed on Karina's eager face. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Karina nodded eagerly, her heart racing. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes fixed on Winter's glistening pussy. "Please."

Winter slowly lowered herself, her eyes never leaving Karina's. "I'm going to smother you with my pussy, baby," she purred, her voice dripping with promise.

Karina's breath quickened as she felt Winter's weight settle on her face, her nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent of Winter's arousal. She moaned, the vibrations sending shivers through Winter's body.

"One," Winter started counting, her voice strained as she held her position, savoring the sensation of control. "You like being my pussy slut, don't you?" Winter continued, her hips rocking gently. "Being at the mercy of my pussy?"

Karina nodded, her mouth muffled by Winter's soft, swollen pussy. She moaned again, her tongue flicking against Winter's sensitive clit.

"Two," Winter whispered, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "You want more, don't you, baby? You want me to fuck your mouth?" Karina whimpered in response, her body arching slightly, inviting Winter to take control.

Her tongue darted out, lapping at Winter's juices, tasting the sweet nectar that flowed freely. Winter pressed down harder, her pussy covering Karina's mouth and nose, depriving her of oxygen.

"Three," Winter breathed, her hips rocking faster, gliding her wet pussy over Karina’s mouth.

"Four," Winter continued, her breath quickening as the pleasure intensified. "I own your mouth, baby. It's mine to do with as I please." She kept riding Karina's face, her hips moving faster and faster.

Karina moaned in response, her tongue never slowing as she lapped at Winter's pussy.

"Five," Winter counted, her voice strained as the pleasure built. "Fuck, your mouth feels so damn good.”

Winter's body trembled as she relished the sensations, her hips moving faster, fucking Karina's mouth with abandon. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hands tangling in Karina's hair. "Keep licking, keep sucking. Make me yours."

Karina whimpered, her tongue never slowing, her hands caressing Winter's ass, urging her on. She tongue-fucked Winter's pussy, feeling the tight walls clench around her tongue. Winter's body started convulsing, her pussy trapped in the vice of Karina's mouth.

With a soft moan, Winter slowly lifted herself, allowing Karina a brief moment to catch her breath and savor the taste of Winter's essence on her tongue. "Good job, baby," Winter cooed, stroking Karina's hair. “You always eat my pussy so good.”

Karina's eyes fluttered open, her face flushed and her lips swollen from the passionate pussy-eating she had bestowed upon Winter.

"Please, don't stop," she begged, her voice hoarse and filled with need. "I need to taste you again, feel you, devour you…make you cum."

Winter smirked, her power over Karina intoxicating. She lowered herself again, her pussy covering Karina's mouth.

"One..." she started counting again, her voice shaking as she felt her own arousal building to a crescendo. "Make me cum, Karina. Put your fucking tongue inside my pussy and drink my juices."

Giselle was so engrossed in the scene, her breath coming in short gasps, that the sudden notification pop-up startled her. She cussed under her breath, frustrated that she never got to see the moment of Winter cumming. Just as she never got to see Karina cumming the last time. Then, she cussed again, realizing how absurd she sounded, getting annoyed about not fulfilling her voyeuristic desires.

"Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to assimilate what she had just watched…AGAIN…ON HER OWN WILL. But the notifications kept popping up on the screen, distracting her from her thoughts. It was Winter, sending messages to Karina.

The notifications kept coming, and Giselle's fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to do. But before she could decide, her phone suddenly started to ring. It was Winter. Giselle's heart stopped, her fingers frozen above the screen, contemplating whether to pick up. “These two are gonna give me have a heart attack.”

Little did she know that Karina and Winter were behind the door all this time, listening to her involuntary moans, smirks on their faces as they knew exactly what Giselle had just watched. They had staged this whole scenario, leaving the tablet for Giselle to find, knowing her curiosity would get the better of her.

---

Winter Moans I Karina Moans I Karina Moans II

[yazzwrites6962]

Trouble ♡ Silco (Arcane)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Young!Silco x Fem!Vander'sSister!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This was not my idea! I got this idea from @truezaunite. Hopefully this turned out how you'd hoped :) Also, I am finally done with finals! So hopefully I can get back on track with practicing my writing. Although, I may be changing my major. That's some extra stress. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Vander's younger sister finally returns after eight years away from home. She was once a pesky little girl, following Vander and Silco everywhere they went. Now, she's grown into a bold, confident young woman. Silco finds himself drawn to her in a way he never thought would happen before.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, intoxication, suggestive content, romantic tension, family tension, harsh expressions

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The dim lights of the Last Drop flickered casting shadows over the bar where Silco sipped at his bitter drink. Vander stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, before a sudden grin tugged at his lips. He looked up at Silco, placing the glass down on the counter.

"She'll be here any minute now." He said, in awe, as if the realization of what was about to happen finally set in. He sighed happily, throwing his rag over his shoulder as his large frame leaned against the bar.

"Your sister?" Silco muttered, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Vander had casually mentioned your upcoming return a couple weeks ago. "The one who used to follow us around everywhere like a lost pup?"

"She's not so much of a pup anymore, Silco." Vander chuckled. "It's been, what, eight years now? She's grown into her own and doing well from what I hear in her letters."

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Vander jolted with anticipation, but Silco turned lazily. He expected to see the same, wide-eyed little girl he once knew. Instead, walked in a woman who moved with confidence, her gaze sharp as a knife. Your boots stomped against the wooden floors as you approached the men, a warm smile on your face.

"Vander!" You exclaimed, hurrying behind the bar and jumping into your brother's arms. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you as if he feared you would slip away from him again.

"Welcome back, Y/N." He sighed, glad to finally have his precious little sister home. He pulled back, holding you by the shoulders and taking in the sight before him. "By Janna, you've gotten big! You look... well... you look like trouble!"

Silco watched from his stool as your banter with Vander continued. His usually sharp tongue was momentarily silenced. You were nothing like he had remembered. Your scrawny limbs and irritatingly squeaky voice were nowhere to be found. You were poised, witty, and beautiful.

"Still as broody as ever?" You giggle, snapping Silco from his thoughts as you waved your hand in front of his face. He gulped, attempting to hide his nervousness.

"I see you're still just as obnoxiously loud as I recall." He smirked, picking up his glass and taking a sip. His heart was pounding, and he had only hoped that his cool drink would calm his nerves. "I'm curious, what kept you away so long?"

"Traveling. Learning. Surviving. You know, the usual." You said, plainly, crossing your arms with a playful defiance. You wouldn't give him a proper answer. "Vander never let me feel too far from home, though. His letters kept me sane."

"Someone had to keep you in line." Vander chortled. "Even from across the world." You rolled your eyes, settling in the seat right beside Silco's.

"Now I'm back, so you can rest easy, Vander." You reached out, taking Silco's drink from in front of him and taking a sip. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach as your lips brushed the rim of his glass.

You continued to catch up with Vander, but Silco's eyes never left you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, which left him feeling uncharacteristically unsettled.

As the night wore on, the bar filled with the usual chatter of patrons. Vander grew busier and busier keeping his establishment running. You found yourself sitting alone with Silco as Vander ran back and forth, keeping the customers happy.

"I should probably get going." You said, sliding Silco's glass back over to him. "I've got a lot to unpack. Tell Vander I'll be back tomorrow, yeah?" You didn't want to interrupt your brother's work. Besides, if you tried to say goodbye, Vander would only try to keep you there all night.

"Of course." Silco smirked, his finger running along the glass. "I'm sure I can speak for both Vander and I when I say it's good to have you back home."

"it's good to be back." You chuckled, placing a finger b=beneath Silco's chin and lifting him to meet your eyes. You could see the pink dusting his cheeks as you did so. "Don't miss me too much, now. See you in the morning."

You turned away, waving to Vander as you walked out of the bar. Silco huffed, frustrated with the realization that you were definitely trouble, as Vander had previously remarked.

"Now, what're you smirking for?" Vander grumbled with suspicion, returning to the bar and setting down a tray of dishes to clean. The Last Drop had emptied slightly after you left.

"She's certainly not what I anticipated." He tried to keep his tone casual, but the waiver in his voice was undeniable. Vander raised an eyebrow.

"I swear Silco, you'd better not be planning on roping her into another one of your schemes." Vander shook his head disapprovingly at his friend.

"Relax. I'm not planning anything." He leaned back in his seat, remembering just how protective Vander always was over you. "Just reacquainting. After all, she's family."

"Yeah, well just don't go getting any slick ideas." Vander warned, not fully trusting that Silco wasn't plotting something. "She's got enough to deal with out there. She doesn't need you adding more to her plate."

"Of course not." Silco waved his hand dismissively, but his thoughts betrayed him. The memory of your teasing touch lingered, leaving him more flustered than he would like to admit. "Though... Tell me Vander... Why do I get the feeling she could hold her own against anyone or anything, even you?" Vander paused, contemplating Silco's word for a moment before a smile of pride lit his face.

"Because she can."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You had been back in your hometown for the past few months. Most of your time was spent helping in your brother's bar. The Last Drop was unusually lively tonight. People shouted over the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Silco was in no mood for the ruckus. He sat in the corner with a half-empty bottle of his favorite drink.

"Drinking all by yourself? How sad." Your voice suddenly poked through the chatter. He turned to spot you right beside him, taking the seat to his left without asking permission.

"Maybe I prefer to be in the company of my thoughts tonight." He slurred, a scowl on his face as he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He sure would need it, if you were going to stick around.

"Jeez. Here I thought you were happy to see me." You raised an eyebrow, taking the bottle from his hands and pouring a glass for yourself. He shivered as your fingers brushed against his in the exchange.

"You have such a way of making things complicated." He grumbled; the alcohol having loosened his tongue. His mind was foggy, and the room spun around him.

"Complicated? Me?" You questioned, a giggle erupting from your throat. "What did I do this time?" You saw Silco hesitate, swirling the liquid in his glass. The room felt warmer than before, and his usually guarded mind betrayed him.

"You... You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't be feeling." He replied, leaning forward against the table in attempt to still his dizziness.

"What are you talking about?" Your laughter faltered, replaced by a cautious curiosity. He looked up at you, softly, his usually sharp eyes clouded by something you couldn't name.

"You." He growled. "It's always you. It's always been you. You walk in suddenly after eight years, and nothing else matters. It's distracting. It's frustrating. Infuriating."

"Are you drunk?" You question immediately, choosing not to put too much thought into his words. He's just talking nonsense. At least, that's what your initial reaction was.

"Perhaps." He leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes. "That doesn't make it any less true." Silco was not usually the type to allow himself to be too intoxicated. You bite your lip, your cheeks burning.

On the one hand, you wanted to explore more into his words. You wanted to understand his feelings. What he meant. However, you knew you shouldn't be prying into the private matters of a drunk man. Especially not Silco. You cared for him.

"You really know how to throw a girl off her game, don't you?" You joked, taking the bottle from the table and placing it far enough that Silco wouldn't be able to reach.

"Just forget about it." He grumbled, opening his palm and sitting up, expecting you to return the bottle to him. He noticed you taking it away. He hoped you would just leave him to continue his drinking in peace.

"No." You spoke sternly. "No more drinking tonight for you, and no. I won't forget about it," Silco groaned, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes once more. "But maybe I don't want to."

His eyes shot open, flickering to meet yours. Before you could continue, Vander called your name, needing assistance with the flow of customers rushing through the door. You stood, quickly smoothing your clothes.

"We'll talk more about this later." You winked, hurrying to help your brother. Silco watched you go, his heart pounding harder than it ever had. For better or for worse, the truth was out, and there was no way of taking it back.

But maybe he didn't want to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The storage room behind the Last Drop became a sanctuary for you and Silco. The dim lighting and cluttered shelves provided just enough privacy for your secret meetings, and tonight was no different.

Silco pressed you against the wall, lips feverish against yours. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other gripped at your waist.

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmured against your lips, his hands exploring your body. He peppered kisses along your jawline, traveling down your neck. You hummed, hands gripping at his hair and clothing, pulling him closer into you.

"What the hell is this?!" Vander's voice boomed, his large frame filling the doorway. Neither you nor Silco had heard the door open. You sighed, calmly adjusting your clothing. Silco looked as though his soul had left his body.

"It's exactly what it looks like." You said boldly, surprising both men with your fearlessness. "I know this is a shocker. You don't have to like it, but you will respect it."

Silco nervously looked between you and Vander, half expecting to be punted across the room at any moment. Vander's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed Silco's hand, intertwining your fingers to try and sooth his anxiety. Finally, Vander let out a sigh.

"If you hurt her-" His expression softened as he realized he was glad you'd chosen Silco, not some stranger he didn't trust. You interrupted before Vander could finish his sentence.

"He won't." You smiled, feeling Silco's grip loosing as his heart calmed. Vander eyed Silco, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had just caught his best friend sucking face with his little sister.

"I won't." Silco nodded. "You have my word." Vander sighed once again, turning out of the doorway and muttering something about how he was too old to deal with this. You were alone with Silco again, and a smile played at your lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?" Silco let out a breath, wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. You giggled, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mhmm, but I'm your trouble now."

[superbreadsoul]

THE DYING EMBERS OF A FLICKERING FLAME.

Drew Starkey x Reader.

DISCLAIMER: This oneshot is in no way a reflection of these people in real-life. This is only for fun and dramaticized for entertainment. No one in this story is disliked by me, I like them all a normal amount.

Warning: cheating, bipolar emotions, inaccurate depiction of Drew's personality, cuss words, implied sexual acts.

WORD COUNT: 21468 words.

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

The hum of the gathering buzzed softly in the background, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and distant conversations. Odessa leaned against the doorframe, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. Her lips pressed into a thin line when her gaze landed on the girl waving at Madelyn from the bar.

Or rather, the woman.

“Is that…?” Odessa’s voice trailed off, her bushy eyebrows drawing together as her chest tightened. It couldn’t be. Her gaze swept over the figure in disbelief, studying the sleek haircut, the sharp-edged confidence in her posture. That couldn’t be Y/N.

Y/N, with her wide, pleading eyes, her constant hovering around Drew, the girl Odessa had always written off as a pitiful rival. Y/N, who once had the nerve to think she could compete for Drew. Odessa’s stomach churned as the wound of insecurity reopened, her possessive side flaring like a long-dormant flame suddenly fed fresh air.

The girl was gone. In her place was a woman.

Cool where Odessa was warm. Composed where Odessa was vibrant. Polished where Odessa was raw.

Odessa tore her gaze away, muttering something under her breath, but the unease stuck with her, threading itself into every movement she made.

In the kitchen, Drew stood at the charcuterie board, selecting a slice of brie with absent focus. He glanced up at the soft sound of someone approaching. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with surprise.

Her gaze flicked to him, calm and unreadable. She nodded, offering a polite smile. “Drew.”

Drew faltered. The change in her was sharp, cutting. This wasn’t the girl he remembered—always trailing after him, laughing too hard at his jokes, hoping for scraps of his attention. This woman was different, a cool presence that unsettled him in its unfamiliarity.

“You’re… different,” he said, tilting his head as he studied her. “Huh?”

Y/N frowned slightly, straightening her posture as her hands clasped the whiskey in her hand. “Sorry?”

“You just seem different,” Drew clarified, raising an eyebrow. His gaze swept over her again, almost searching. “A good different. You’ve grown up. Yeah, that’s it. You–Wow.”

Her smile tightened. “Thank you?”

The sharpness of her tone caught him off guard, and he furrowed his brow. Where were the puppy dog eyes? The shy, desperate eagerness? Instead, she looked at him like a stranger would—polite, distant.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, stepping closer. He gestured to the spread in front of them. “So, what have you been up to lately?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’ve had some shoots done recently. Worked with Tom Holland for his campaign, ‘Bero.’ He’s a great guy. And I’ve been flying around a lot. ‘One Piece’ is shooting again, and I wanted to support Taz—you remember Taz Skylar, right?”

Drew blinked. “Wait, you were in the One Piece adaptation?” His surprise was genuine, but it quickly twisted into something else.

“No, no,” Y/N corrected with a laugh, her tone warm. “I just went to support Taz. He’s amazing—such a sweetheart.”

Her fond smile lingered, and Drew felt something stir in him. Irritation, maybe. He couldn’t place it exactly, but the way the conversation shifted entirely to her world, her accomplishments, her effortless confidence—it grated on him. He suddenly felt like an extra in a story where he used to be the lead.

“So, you’ve been busy,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “Working and all. Been seeing anyone?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but before a word could escape, Brooke Starkey’s arms wrapped around her in an exuberant hug.

“Y/N!” Brooke’s bright voice cut through the room, drawing eyes as she squeezed Y/N tight.

Y/N laughed, her expression softening as she returned the hug. “Brooke! It’s been ages. How are you?”

“I’m great!” Brooke beamed, pulling back to flash her braces. “Our sister’s kids are growing up so fast. Seriously, they’ll be taller than me soon!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “They grow like weeds, don’t they?”

Brooke’s grin turned sly. “What about you? What’s new? Any guys?”

Y/N's laugh was light, breezy. “Funny, your brother was just asking me the same thing.”

She glanced at both of them with a subtle arch of her brow, her smile polite but distant. Drew swallowed hard, sensing the shift in her—one he wasn’t sure he could keep up with.

The energy in the room shifted, tension crackling subtly beneath the surface as Brooke’s teasing voice broke through the hum of chatter.

“He was?” she asked with a smirk, glancing between her brother and Y/N. “You’re always so nosy.”

Drew rolled his eyes, glaring half-heartedly at his sister. “Just curious, is all,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. “Always need to know what’s going on.”

Y/N's tilted her head, her tone sharp yet calm. “Not always.”

Brooke looks between them awkwardly, before excusing herself. “I’m just gonna—yeah.”

Drew chuckled, the sound low as he met her steady gaze. “Okay, not always,” he admitted. Then, leaning slightly closer, he added, “Just when it’s important to me.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but her narrowed eyes betrayed her disbelief. “Why would it be important to you?”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Drew hesitated. Why was it important? The truth lingered on the edge of his mind, taunting him, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“Because we’re friends?” he said, his tone light but his jaw tight. The answer felt hollow, and he knew it. Friends. That’s what he was supposed to believe. So why did it bother him to imagine someone else making her smile the way she used to smile at him?

Y/N let out a laugh, sharp and incredulous. “Friends?” she echoed, shaking her head. “We’re not friends.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, and Drew’s smile faltered. His brow furrowed as he stared at her, his voice growing colder. “Then what are we?”

Y/N hesitated, her expression flickering as she thought back to the sting of rejection, to the way he’d brushed her off a year ago like she hadn’t mattered. But she wouldn’t let that show now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Nothing,” she said simply, her voice steady.

“Nothing,” Drew repeated, the word dripping with bitterness. His jaw tightened as he stared at her, the muscles in his arms flexing as he crossed them over his chest. “So I’m nothing to you?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “You’re twisting my words.”

Drew’s frustration bubbled over, his tone pointed as he pressed on. “How exactly would you want me to interpret that? It either means we’re friends, or we’re nothing. Those are my only options, and you just said we’re nothing.”

Y/N's eyes flashed, but her composure didn’t waver. “I said we are nothing,” she clarified, her voice cutting but cool. “We have nothing. So stop getting so worked up over it and go back to your girlfriend.”

She gestured casually toward Odessa, her tone dismissive as she picked up her glass and drained it in one fluid motion. Then, without another glance at Drew, she turned away, her indifference slicing through the air like a blade.

Drew stood there, rooted in place, watching her as his emotions churned—confusion, irritation, something he refused to name. Whatever it was, it left a bitter taste in his mouth as he realised Y/N had turned away from him without so much as a second thought.

The tension between them coiled tighter, the invisible thread of unresolved emotions threatening to snap as Drew’s dry laugh filled the space between them.

“I’m getting worked up? That’s funny,” he said, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. His eyes scanned her face, her cool, collected expression only stoking the flames of his frustration. This wasn’t the Y/N he was used to—the shy, eager-to-please girl who once hung on his every word. Her transformation was unsettling, throwing him completely off balance. “Since when did you grow a backbone?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she regarded him in silence.

That smile—calm, knowing, infuriating—ignited something in Drew. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure, but the flicker of annoyance was impossible to hide.

“What’s that look for?” he demanded, his voice edged with irritation as his narrowed eyes bore into hers.

Her amusement only deepened. She leaned back slightly, her gaze locked on his, unbothered. “I really get under your skin, don’t I?” she said, her tone light and teasing, though there was a sharpness beneath it.

She raised her glass and took a slow sip of her whiskey, her movements deliberate, her gaze never wavering.

“You have no idea how much,” Drew replied, his laugh low and humourless. The words felt like a confession he hadn’t meant to make. He stepped closer, his height casting a shadow over her, the air between them electric with tension. His voice dropped, almost a growl. “When the hell did you grow a backbone and lose all that clingy neediness?”

The question hung in the air, laced with equal parts irritation and disbelief.

Y/N's smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She leaned forward slightly, her tone laced with mock encouragement. “There you go. Keep it up, buddy.” She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow as she gestured subtly with her hand. “Go on.”

Her sarcasm hit like a match to gasoline, fueling the fire in his chest. Drew’s hands balled into fists at his sides as he stared down at her, unsure if he wanted to yell at her or—something else entirely.

She just kept smiling, completely unfazed, and Drew couldn’t help but think that this new Y/N—the one who could meet him head-on without flinching—was both maddening and utterly captivating.

The tension between them was unbearable, crackling like a live wire ready to snap. Drew’s nostrils flared as his jaw clenched tightly. His glare burned into her, a storm of frustration and confusion swirling in his blue eyes. She was playing him, and he knew it. Worse, it was working.

“You wanna know what I think?” he asked, his voice dangerously low, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement as a wide smile spread across her face. “What?”

“I think this new ‘maturity’ of yours is a load of bullshit,” Drew spat, his tone laced with venom. “All of it—the new look, the new attitude, the new you—it’s just a game. You’re still the same girl who was obsessed with me not even a year ago.”

Y/N bit her lip to hold back a laugh, nodding sarcastically as she hummed, “Hmm, hmm, yeah.”

Her mocking agreement only fueled Drew’s fire. His temper flared as he stepped closer, his broad frame towering over hers. The noise of the party around them faded into a distant hum as his voice dropped to a sharp whisper meant only for her.

“So why don’t you drop the act, huh?” he hissed, his tone biting. “Stop pretending to be some tough, cool chick who’s too good for everyone. Because I know the real you.”

Y/N's eyebrow arched, her lips curving into a sly smile as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Her voice was light and teasing. “Is that so?”

Drew’s jaw tightened further, his blue eyes narrowing with anger. “Yeah, it is so,” he bit out. “Because you’re still the same girl who was whining and begging for my attention every chance you got. You were obsessed with me.”

Y/N's smirk didn’t waver. Instead, she glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully, her tone now playful, almost whimsical. “Obsessed. You know, that’s a great idea for a new song,” she mused, already toying with imaginary lyrics in her mind.

The blatant dismissal, the way she made light of his words, drove Drew over the edge. His hands clenched into fists again as he stepped even closer, closing the already slim distance between them.

Grabbing her chin firmly, he forced her to face him, his large hand tilting her head down so their eyes locked. His voice was a growl, low and heated. “Are you even listening to me?”

Y/N's expression didn’t falter. If anything, her smirk deepened, her tone dripping with condescension as she pouted mockingly. “Oh boy! Big feelings!” she taunted, her voice soft and sugary.

That was the final straw. Drew snapped. With a sudden, sharp motion, his hand shot to her hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging it harshly, his fingers curling tightly in the strands.

“You think this is a joke?” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “This is bullshit.”

Y/N grunted, her playful demeanour cracking under the sharp pull of his grip. Anger flared in her own eyes now, replacing the cool confidence she’d maintained.

“Get off of me,” she growled, her voice low and dangerous as she shoved at his chest.

But Drew didn’t let go immediately. His grip lingered for a moment longer, his anger simmering before he finally released her, the tension between them pulsing like a heartbeat.

The silence that followed was deafening, their heavy breaths the only sound as they stared at each other, both furious, both unwilling to look away. Whatever this was—this thing between them—it wasn’t over. But neither of them knew how it would end.

The tension between them reached a fever pitch as Drew’s grip on Y/N's hair tightened, forcing her to meet his blazing gaze. His nostrils flared, his jaw locked with fury, and yet, beneath it all, there was something else—something darker, more conflicted.

“Or what?” he hissed, his tone low and sharp like a blade, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Y/N didn’t flinch. Instead, her voice was steady, almost mocking, as she leaned closer, her breath fanning his face. “Or you’re gonna lose your girlfriend,” she said softly, her tone laced with quiet defiance.

That landed. Drew’s glare faltered for a split second as he glanced sideways, his eyes darting to Odessa. She stood a few feet away, watching the two of them with a steely gaze, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. The weight of her stare should’ve been enough to snap him out of it, to remind him where his loyalties lay.

But when he turned back to Y/N, the lack of fear in her eyes—the way she looked at him like she had all the power in the world—sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through him. His grip on her hair tightened.

“Don’t push me,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with restrained fury.

Y/N's lips curled into a small, daring smile, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Then let go,” she whispered back, her tone taunting, daring him to make his next move.

The words ignited something primal in Drew, a mix of rage and something else entirely—something he didn’t want to name. His blood boiled, and for a moment, the idea of pulling her closer, of silencing her with a kiss that would burn as much as their anger, flitted through his mind.

The thought caught him off guard. What the hell? He thought, blinking as the realisation unsettled him. “I said, don’t push me,” he repeated, his voice hoarse, trembling with more than just fury now.

Y/N's chest rose and fell with her quickened breath, her defiant facade cracking ever so slightly as she glared at him. But even now, with the sting of his grip making her scalp ache, she refused to back down.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but the moment hung heavy between them, a storm of unresolved emotions crackling in the air. Around them, the curious glances of partygoers grew bolder, whispers starting to ripple through the room.

Odessa shifted in her spot, her arms crossing over her chest as her narrowed gaze darkened. The storm wasn’t just between Drew and Y/N anymore—it was closing in on all of them.

 Y/N's taunts sliced through Drew like a blade, each word sharper than the last, cutting straight to his pride. She leaned in closer, her voice low and mocking, dripping with venomous amusement.

“You like it. Look at you,” she whispered, her smirk growing as her eyes flicked over his face, savouring the anger simmering in his expression. “I make you feel like a man.”

Her tone turned almost sing-song as she pressed on. “Brute strength and all. Guess Odessa doesn’t let you take the reins, huh? Is she the one always on top? Or—or are you the one who’s on your stomach?”

A soft, mocking laugh escaped her lips, private and husky, meant only for him. The fire in Drew’s eyes burned hotter, his jaw tightening as his grip on her hair became almost punishing.

He’d never hated someone so much, so deeply, in his entire life. Not just for her words, but for how easily she wormed her way under his skin, how her taunts had him seeing red.

“Shut up,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and feral. His free hand turned her around towards the door of the ballroom with a touch that felt both instinctive and entirely wrong. He yanked her closer out into the hallway of the hotel lobby, a few feet away from the party, the music from inside echoing through the halls. He roughly pinned her to the wall, towering over her in an attempt to make her feel small, his strength rough and unrelenting.

But Y/N was relentless. Her smirk didn’t waver, her voice dipping lower, the mocking edge cutting deeper. “Oh shit! So I’m right?” she drawled, her tone all cruel amusement. “You always were a little bitch—of course you’re taking it from behind—”

Drew’s nostrils flared as the words hit him, an image flashing in his mind that he wanted nothing to do with. His anger surged to the surface, his breath coming fast and uneven as the space between them seemed to collapse under the weight of their shared fury.

“Say one more thing,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his grip tightening until the tension between them felt ready to explode. “I dare you.”

But Y/N only smiled, her silence speaking volumes, her eyes daring him to make his next move.

Drew’s chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing, every word she spat at him fueling the fire in his veins. He knew exactly what Y/N's was doing—the low, husky tone, the way she held his gaze with those fiery, unyielding eyes. It was a game she had mastered long ago, one she used to play when she wanted to crawl under his skin, break him down, and leave him craving her.

And damn it, it was working.

His hand shot out, gripping her jaw firmly, forcing her to look up at him. His fingers dug into her skin as his glare bore down on her like daggers. “God, I still hate you,” he hissed, his voice barely above a murmur, though the heat behind it was unmistakable.

“Good,” Y/N snapped back, her whiskey-rough voice dripping with venom. “Cause I fucking hate you too.”

Her words hit like a slap, but they didn’t cool his anger—instead, they stoked it. He had almost forgotten how intense she could get when they fought, how raw and unfiltered their arguments became. It reminded him of the past, of how their fiery clashes used to end in bruising kisses and desperate hands. The passion between them was always a double-edged sword, cutting deep but sparking something he couldn’t ignore.

And now, here she was, standing toe-to-toe with him, her eyes blazing, her voice rasping with that whiskey-coated edge, and it was like a damn switch flipped in his head.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Drew growled, his voice rough and low, his grip on her jaw tightening as he leaned closer. His breath fanned her face, the space between them crackling with tension.

“Fucking hate you,” Y/N bit out, her tone raw and scathing, but there was something else there too. Her breath hitched as he leaned even closer, his body crowding hers.

The words were venom, but the heat between them was intoxicating, suffocating. They were locked in a battle neither could walk away from, their anger feeding into something dangerous, something electric. For a moment, it felt like the whole world had fallen away, leaving only them in their storm.

Drew's grip on her hair and hip was rough, possessive, but for a moment, he stopped pulling–his hand just held her there, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. They were too close, much too close, his face hovering inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"Say it one more time," he demanded, his voice hoarse and tight with restraint.

 Y/N's eyes narrowed, and she gritted the words out, her voice cold and biting. "I. Hate. You." Each syllable cut through the air between them, a challenge, a dare.

Drew's body burned with tension, his mind clouded with thoughts he couldn't push away. The wild look in his eyes intensified, and for a split second, he imagined doing what he should never do–taking her then and there. His hand tightened on her hip, pulling her closer, making her feel the raw heat of his desire. He didn't speak for a moment, just stood there, close enough to taste her, as his pulse thudded through his ears. 

"I hate you, too," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, brushing against her lips with every word. The heat between them was palpable, suffocating.

Suddenly, Y/N recoiled, her head hitting the wall of the empty hallway with a soft thud. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she gave him a scathing look. "What-what the fuck is wrong with you? Is this turning you on?!" she demanded, incredulous, her breath shaky.

Drew's eyes flicked to the empty hallway, his senses sharpening. She was right-they were alone, out of sight from the party, hidden in the shadows of the house. His pulse quickened as he looked down at her, pinned between the wall and his body. His grip on her hip tightened again, dragging her even closer. She could feel the evidence of his desire, pressing against her as he trapped her, no escape.

"No... no, you're just an infuriating little tease," he bit out through clenched teeth, trying to stay in control, but every word she spoke, every inch of her body pressed against his, made it harder.

Y/N's lips curled into a mocking smile, and she crossed her arms, staring up at him with a fire in her eyes.

"Tell that to the boner in your pants, Drew."

Her words were a slap to his pride, and he couldn't even deny it. He was harder than he had been in ages, his body betraying him with every second that passed, every breath he took in her presence. He was so close to losing control, to slamming her into the wall and kissing her until they both couldn't breathe.

"I didn't realise I was so transparent..." Drew muttered, a dry laugh escaping his lips. His tone was rough, strained, and distracted, and it took everything in him not to just close the gap between them and end the maddening tension.

In the dimly lit hallway, shadows danced against the walls, cast by the flickering fluorescent lights. The air was thick with tension, twisted by the words exchanged like daggers in the night. Y/N stood with an air of triumph, her lips curling into a mocking smile, eyes glinting with a challenge. 

“You’re so pathetic." she said, her voice dripping with disdain. The room seemed to pulse with her energy, vibrant and alive. Each word was a sharp blade, cutting deeper into him. “Do you like that I hate you? Does it turn you on? Maybe that’s what I should’ve done a year ago, huh? Treated you like the pathetic little bitch boy you really are.” 

The mockery twisted in the air, echoing like the haunting notes of a forgotten song. Y/N tilted her head, pouting as if addressing a child caught in a moment of irreparable shame. “That what you want, bitch boy? Odessa not treating you shitty enough?” 

Every syllable dripped with contempt. She was the predator, and he—Drew, in this moment—found himself the prey, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. He had always reveled in his dominance, in being the one to command the room, but now she toyed with him like a cat playing with a wounded mouse. 

She watched him, delighting in the flush creeping up his neck, the way he struggled to maintain his composure, a veneer of arrogance clinging to him like a well-worn mask. Even as he feigned indifference, the truth was clear—his body betrayed him with a raging hardness, an embarrassing truth he couldn’t reconcile. 

Drew, usually so untouchable, felt like a spectre trapped in his own thoughts. This interaction was all wrong; he was the one who held all the cards. She was supposed to be begging for his attention, not striding away with such confidence, and every fibre of his being recoiled at the sudden shift in their dynamic. 

“Yeah—yeah that’s what I thought,” Y/N said, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as she assessed his silence, the power dynamics visibly shifting. She turned her back to him, her confidence almost palpable as she began to saunter elegantly away, each step an affront to his pride.

“That’s it? Just walk away?” he called after her, voice rough, almost desperate. He watched her, torn between admiration and resentment at her breathtaking poise. The very foundation of their relationship felt like it was crumbling. “You can’t talk smack like that and then just walk away… come on, Y/N, that’s not fair—” 

For a moment, she paused, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. The challenge hung heavy in the air, and the lingering silence wrapped around them like a shroud. 

“—Watch me.”

Without a backward glance, she raised her middle finger high, her posture exuding defiance, before disappearing down the hallway, leaving him with nothing but confusion and bitterness. The echo of her heels faded, but the imprint of her words remained, seeping into the very marrow of his pride as he stood there, feeling as though the world had turned upside down.

                 —After her performance of “it’s ok, I’m ok”—

The dimly lit bar thrummed with the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses, but for Drew, the world outside faded into an obscure blur. His gaze remained fixed on the small stage at the front, where she poured out her heart and soul, lyrics dripping with emotion that felt all too personal. Each note struck like a hammer against his chest, resonating with the enormity of the unspoken between them. He could feel the weight of her anger like a heavy cloak draped over their shared history, one laced with moments both exquisite and excruciating.

She stood there, radiant and furious, her voice slicing through the air. How could she hold such fury and beauty simultaneously? Drew’s heart raced, a mix of admiration and regret pounding in syncopation with the beat of the music—a primal reminder of what had been lost, yet fluttering with the thrill of what might still be.

When the final note faded into applause, Drew found himself drowning in the swirl of bodies, each one like a wave that could sweep him away and drown him in the chaos. He was desperate for her, craving clarity amid the confusion swirling in his mind. After what felt like an eternity, he succumbed to the weight of mixed emotions and found himself at the bar, seeking solace at the bottom of a glass that appeared deceptively comforting.

He sank deeper into his thoughts, how the night had spiralled from exhilaration to frustration, anger to longing. The alcohol numbed the edges, turning his world fuzzy and warm, yet his heart whispered that this moment was anything but resolved. As he hunched over his half-empty glass, he barely recognized how much he had needed this—this space, the drink, and yet, most of all, her presence.

“How’d you like my song?” Her voice chimed behind him, familiar and sharp, an electric current that coursed through his veins. 

Drew’s eyes closed for a fleeting moment before reality crashed into him. He turned slowly, the room spinning with the liquor, and found her standing there—an enchanting silhouette framed by the faint glow of bar lights. The formal black dress clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve he had tried so hard to forget. He swallowed hard, a mix of admiration and guilt knotting in his throat.

“Which one?” he replied dryly, raising his glass as if it were a shield against the vulnerability mixing in his chest.

“Both,” she answered, her smile cutting through the layers of tension like a knife through fog.

Drew felt a rush of heat surge through him, not just from the alcohol but from the intensity of her look, the challenge lingering in the air between them. They were two people caught in the eye of a storm, everything else around them fading, leaving only the truth of what lay unspoken. Drew could feel the weight of her gaze, the layers of accusation and yearning in her eyes. This night was far from over, and the melody of their tumultuous connection was playing on loop—a reminder that sometimes, the most painful songs were the ones that resonated the deepest.

The dim light of the bar flickered like a hesitant heartbeat, casting shadows that danced around them as if unwilling spectators to the emotional tempest brewing at their table. Drew leaned back against the cool surface, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, which felt more substantial than the reality unfolding before him. He scoffed, taking an appraising measure of her—his eyes flitted down her form, pausing on the curves that the fitted dress clung to like a second skin. 

She was enchanting, even when she didn't mean to be, and in that moment, he was painfully aware that he should not be feeling this drawn to her. But the alcohol coursing through his veins blurred the edges of reason and made the alluring figure before him even harder to dismiss. 

“The first one was catchy,” he replied, the words spilling out dryly, laced with an irritation he couldn’t quite suppress.

“Yeah, it is. It’s also very true. I’m not into you anymore, Drew. Let’s just get that straight,” she retorted, nonchalance drenching her tone like thick syrup. A casual shrug accompanied her dismissal, further igniting the confusion simmering within him. 

There was a peculiar sense of calm in her voice that unsettled him, like the eerie silence before a storm. The sharp pang of rejection mingled with anger, swirling through him like an unpredictable tide. How could she sound so composed about losing something she had once clung to with fervour? 

“How could you just suddenly not be into me?” he shot back, intensity sharpening his features as he turned fully to face her. His eyes narrowed in desperate search of the truth hidden behind her façade.

“Suddenly? It’s been a year,” she countered, her incredulity palpable, as if he had just voiced the most absurd notion.

“Yeah, but… you wanted me so badly, for so long,” he murmured, the frustration weaving through his voice like a thread pulled taut. He held her gaze, their eyes locking, battling emotions bubbling to the surface. Anger simmered within him at her apparent indifference—how could she let him go so easily? Frustration gnawed at his insides, a bitter aftertaste lingering from far too many nights spent tangled in longing.

“What does it matter? You never liked me back in the first place,” she laughed, the sound edged with disbelief and tinged with hurt, and it cut through him like a blade, sharp and unwelcome.

In that instant, the chaotic undercurrents of their shared history surged forth, thrumming with unspoken words and buried feelings. He felt the walls he had carefully constructed around his heart begin to tremble, as the vulnerabilities and insecurities he had refused to acknowledge clawed their way to the surface. How was it that they could share so many moments yet stand so utterly apart? The tension between them had shifted, now a weapon forged of resentment and longing, and he couldn’t tell if it was meant to hurt or to heal.

The air in the dimly lit room crackled with tension, a palpable undercurrent as she leaned back against the bar, a playful smile dancing on her lips. He stood rigid, a storm brewing inside him, every laugh that escaped her only serving to stoke the flames of his frustration. Her laugh—light and airy—felt like a slap to his face, igniting a fury he didn’t fully understand. His fingers curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms as he gritted his teeth.

"You were obsessed with me," he said, the words escaping his lips like venom. "You chased after me for the longest time, even when all I did was insult you and tell you no."

Her response was laced with sarcasm, infuriatingly calm. "Yeah. I’m aware." She rolled her eyes, the amusement in her tone cutting deeper than any insult could. The way she carried herself, so detached and yet vibrant, made the air thicken with an unspoken challenge. "And? Did you expect me to stay ‘obsessed’ with you forever?"

He felt his blood boil, each casual laugh of hers striking a nerve. It was as if she were mocking him, dismissing everything they had once shared, reduced to mere jokes. "I expected you to care," his voice dropped to a low murmur, laden with the weight of unfulfilled emotions as he locked his gaze onto hers, searching for any hint of regret, any sign of the girl he once knew so well.

The moment hung between them, electric and charged, until her smile softened, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability breaking through her facade. She tilted her head, regarding him with a mixture of pity and something else he couldn’t decipher. "I did care. And I paid the price."

In that instant, his heart stuttered. The walls he had built around his emotions began to crumble under the raw honesty in her gaze. She had cared, and yet somewhere along the way, the passion he had craved had turned cold, and now it was as if they were two strangers in a missed connection, trapped in the ruins of a past neither could escape.

Drew leaned against the polished wood of the bar, his heart racing as he watched her. The light that had once danced in her eyes—so bright and full of affection—had flickered out, leaving only an unreadable expression. She had once been head over heels for him, but now she seemed to regard him like a stranger. 

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his emotions settle in his throat. “If you cared,” he said, his voice quiet yet laced with desperation, “then how could you just stop caring? Just like that?” 

She turned slightly, her eyes drifting back to him with an unsettling calmness. “I realised my worth,” she replied, an edge in her voice. “Met someone who could handle the way I loved.”

Her casual tone felt like a slap to his face, and he could feel his blood begin to boil beneath his skin. With every word she spoke, the anger rolled through him like an incoming tide, threatening to drown his better judgement. “So I wasn’t… good enough?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, ice forming around his words. “I couldn’t handle you?”

“Yes. You treated me like shit, and we were only just friends,” she shot back, the bruise of her words hitting him hard. “You used to laugh with Odessa about the fact that I genuinely loved you. So no, Drew. You definitely don’t have the maturity to love the way I do.”

He could hardly breathe as the truth of her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unforgiving. The burden of their history crashed down on him—a million moments, a myriad of shared laughter, shattered in an instant. She downed her glass, the sound resonating like a closing chapter, and turned to walk away. 

The sight of her retreating silhouette ripped through him. Drew froze for a moment, the realisation settling cold in his chest. She was walking away as if their connection had meant nothing, and that thought cut deeper than he wished to acknowledge. Her casual dismissal ignited a fury inside him; the anger morphed into desperation, and he felt something inside him snap. 

As she moved effortlessly towards the hallway, her head held high, it felt like the final straw. The need for confrontation surged forth, drowning out his reservations. With a swift movement, he slammed his glass onto the bar, the noise cutting through the murmur of the crowd like a scream.

“Wait!” he called out, pushing himself to his feet and following her, determination pooling in his gut. 

Each stride felt like a battle against the storm of emotions swirling in his chest. He navigated through the dim corridor behind her, heart pounding as his thoughts raced. The shadows around them seemed to warp and bend, echoing the spiralling connection they once had. 

The hallway stretched before them like a chasm, a barrier between desire and heartbreak. She sauntered forward, each step purposeful, her mind focused on escape—the lift at the end of the corridor promising a momentary sanctuary from the eruption of emotions that swirled inside her. But behind her footsteps, the sound of his hurried movement pierced through the tension, igniting a flame of defiance within her.

Drew was relentless, his heart pounding in sync with the fury that ignited his every nerve ending. He chased after her with an urgency that seemed almost desperate. Reaching out, he grasped her arm roughly, pulling her back so that she faced him, their eyes locking in a collision of unrefined emotion. 

“You didn’t even deny that you loved me,” he accused, his harsh tone slicing through the air between them. The fiery intensity of his gaze burned into her, but beneath it lay a tumult of guilt and regret that he couldn’t hide.

She stared back, unflinching. “I don’t have to deny it. I did love you, Drew. I’m not ashamed of that,” she snapped, her voice rising in defiance. “The only thing I’m ashamed of is all those damn years I spent being your friend, putting up with your ungrateful ass while you treated me like I was gum beneath your shoe when Odessa was around.”

With a fierce yank, she pulled her arm from his grasp, stepping back, the distance between them not just physical but emotional, an abyss that felt insurmountable. 

In that moment, realisations flooded over him like a wave. He couldn’t deny what she was saying. The truth struck him hard—he had treated her poorly, clinging to denial and ignorance while pushing away the very love and adoration she had offered without condition. The weight of his actions bore down on him, a heavy cloak of regret that he felt unworthy to wear.

But his anger was a tangled mess, fueled by more than just her accusation. He was furious, not only at her for seemingly moving on but at himself for being the one who had driven her away. Matted feelings of jealousy and inadequacy mingled within him, and he seethed in frustration. How could she have let go so easily? How could she walk away when he suddenly longed for her presence?

As silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the soft ticking of time, she shook her head in disbelief, capturing his attention. He stood there, dumbstruck, the expression on his face a painful mix of confusion and vulnerability that sent waves of exasperation coursing through her.

Ugh, she thought, incredulity taking over. The sight of him standing there, lost and torn, made her roll her eyes in irritation. She turned away, dismissing the pull of his despair. 

With a storm of unresolved tension swirling around them, Drew’s grip tightened as he spun her back to face him, the weight of his anger palpable in the air. The wall was cool against her back, a stark contrast to the fire igniting in her chest.

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the narrow hallway. 

In response, she felt the fury that had simmered for too long rise to the surface, bursting forth in a desperate rage. 

“I should have turned my back on you ages ago!” 

The words shot out of her mouth, a battle cry against the years of pain and frustration buried deep in her heart. In a moment fueled by raw emotion, she shoved him away with all the strength she could muster.

The force of her push stunned him, a harsh scoff escaping his lips as he stumbled back, disbelief momentarily erasing the anger etched on his face. But the shock quickly transformed into something far more potent—a surge of rage that pulsed through his veins like wildfire. 

“You don’t get to just shove me like that!” he shouted, his jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides. Drew stepped toward her again, closing the gap, invading her space. “You should’ve run from me a long time ago.”

“Well I did it now, haven’t I?!” The incredulity in her voice matched the intensity in her eyes. “And I’m SO glad you’re not in my life anymore—“

Her laughter, sharp and scornful, cut through the tension like a knife. She placed a hand on her heart, mocking the very relief she felt.

“I mean seriously—I’m so glad I am not faced with having to deal with your bitch boy attitude anymore—“ She snapped at him, the words infused with the bitterness of their shared history.

His breaths quickened, tension coiling tightly in his chest. This was not how their exchanges used to go; usually, she wouldn’t strike so hard or hit so true. She was saying the kind of things that would’ve rolled off his back once, but now they burrowed beneath his skin, igniting the innate frustration refocusing his fury.

“Yeah, you’re so relieved,” he shot back, his voice low and edged with venom, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that could ignite a fire. “Because you’ve found someone else now, right? Someone who can handle all your BULLSHIT!”

“Yeah, ya know what? I did!” she retorted, each word an arrow aimed straight at his heart. “And he is so much better than you as a person! Because you suck! You suck, Drew! You’re only nice to people you CHOOSE to be nice to!”

They stood there, their voices overlapping in a symphony of anguish and wrath. Each accusation only fueled the other’s fire, a volcanic eruption of raw feelings that had been trapped beneath the surface for too long. 

“Look at you,” he spat, his hands shaking slightly as the fury coursed through him, battling against the flicker of vulnerability that threatened to break free. “You think you’ve found better, but I know this is all you’ve got. You think you can just toss me aside like yesterday’s trash?”

She shook her head, disbelief mingling with irritation. “You were the one who treated me like that! You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t even matter. And now you’re angry because I finally left?” 

There was a silence, charged with the weight of everything unspoken, their breaths mingling in the tense air as they stared each other down. 

Drew’s heart raced, his insides a whirlwind of regret and unresolved longing. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, the bitterness in his tone fading ever so slightly. “I pushed you because I didn’t know how—how to deal with how I felt. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn't mean to what? Hurt me?” She interjected fiercely, crossing her arms defiantly. “You didn’t think I deserved more?”

The truth in her accusation hung heavy between them, and Drew clenched his jaw, the realisation hitting him like a punch to the gut. 

“Maybe I didn’t,” he admitted, voice dropping to a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of truth, “but I’m not okay with how this ended. With you hating me.” 

The subtle change in his demeanour caught her off guard, causing her to falter for a brief moment before the armour of anger enveloped her once again. "Hate you? No, Drew, I can’t hate someone who never gave me the chance to matter.” 

And with that, the fight seemed to deflate, leaving a hollow echo of what had been. Their breaths mingled in the air, emotions boiling just beneath the surface, each of them facing the remnants of their once unbreakable bond. 

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a cold glow over the small, confined space where tension had accumulated like a storm cloud. With each breath taken, the air thickened, pregnant with unspoken words and grudges long held.

“You think he’s so kind?” Drew spat, his voice dripped with scorn as he advanced, changing the subject and closing the distance between them until their bodies nearly touched. “So sweet and gentle? He probably lets you walk all over him!”

“Walk all over him?” she shot back, incredulity fueling her retort. “Is that your critique? Because if anyone knows about being pushed around, it’s you!" The memories swirled—a past of her always acquiescing and succumbing to his whims, even when they were merely friends. “You let Odessa walk all over you, and now, you think you’ve earned the right to judge me?”

A flicker of hurt crossed his features at the mere mention of Odessa. His jaw clenched tightly as her words stung like barbs. The fact they were even being compared grated on him, invoking a deep, seething anger that coursed through his veins.

“Don’t pretend to understand my relationship with her,” he shot back, his fists clenching at his sides, his presence a looming shadow. 

“You don’t know anything about me!” she replied, each word like a bullet aimed at his heart. “Stay in your lane, Starkey.”

He leaned closer, the heat of their animosity palpable. “You brought up my relationship first,” he hissed. “Is it jealousy that has you acting like this?”

“Jealous? Of what?” she spat incredulously, the disbelief evident in her tone. “Your irresponsibility? Your immaturity? Your utter disregard for anyone but yourself?”

“Jealous,” he reiterated, the word hanging heavily in the air between them. “Jealous because I never cared about you like you cared about me. You wasted years of your life chasing after a guy who never saw you for who you are.”

His words pierced through her defences, causing some invisible emotional shield to crumble. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, a smile of painful acknowledgment flickering on her lips as she stepped back, her heart heavy with muted anguish.

He met her gaze and instantly recognized the devastation he’d unleashed. A realisation crashed down upon him: hurting her felt worse than he could bear. It was as if he had lost something he hadn’t even realised he valued until it began to slip from his grasp.

‘I knew this was a mistake.’ She whispered to herself.

“What are you talking about?” he murmured, the edge of his voice softening as a hint of vulnerability broke through his bravado. He searched her eyes for some reassurance, for signs that the damage wasn’t as profound as he feared.

“You are my biggest mistake,” she whispered with quiet finality, stepping away from him, leaving a chasm filled with their unspoken words.

The truth of her statement sent chills racing through him, and the realisation unsettled him. He had chased after her anger, thrived on her attention, yet now was confronted with the stark reality that the chase had come at a devastating cost. “What?” The word escaped his lips in a breath, almost a plea.

“I wish I’d never met you.” The weight of her words pressed upon him like a leaden shroud. “You’re a bad person, Drew. I can’t believe I fell in love with you.”

His chest constricted painfully, as if she had reached deep within and squeezed the very essence of him. Here was a woman who had loved him, who had given and sacrificed, and he couldn’t recall ever treating her with the reverence she deserved. 

“Yeah. You and me both,” he replied, the bitterness in his tone betraying a deeper fracture seeping through.

An oppressive silence stretched between them, heavy with unfulfilled longing and regret. The air crackled with tension as he finally summoned the courage to ask what he’d long avoided. “Why do you think I’m a bad person?”

“Because you enjoy hurting me,” she said, her voice steady yet piercing.

Her honesty hit him like a wave, oppressive and unrelenting. For so long, he had struggled to understand their tumultuous connection, always toeing the line between love and contempt. She had always returned to his side, accepting his jabs as part of their cruel dance, yet in that acceptance now loomed the haunting realisation that he had reveled in her pain.

His throat constricted, the truth too heavy for denial, as he swallowed hard against the bitter tide of her words. And then she added, as if the weight couldn’t get heavier, “And you liked it when I kept coming back.”

His jaw clenched, her revelations spiralling through him like shards of glass. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, reluctantly admitting defeat as self-loathing crept into his heart. “You always did.”

“Because I loved you,” she replied, a wistful tone mingling with the bitterness of those memories.

The admission landed like a heavy stone, ricocheting wildly within him. She had poured forth her heart, unearthing a part of her he felt dangerously unworthy of. “How could you have ever loved me?” he whispered, barely audible against their shared past.

“I don’t know.” The shrug she offered was faint, the defeat palpable.

“Maybe you’re just stupid,” he snapped, the bitterness rolling off his tongue like poison, but it was directed at himself as much as her.

“Don’t take it out on me because you’re angry with yourself, Drew.” 

She turned, moving to leave, yet he caught her wrist, pulling her back, both pained and desperate. “You don’t get to judge me!” he growled, the edge returning to his voice, his grip a frantic plea for her to stay.

“Judge you? You think this is me judging you?” She scoffed, the lightning tension between them palpable. “I’m just pointing out the facts, asshole!”

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, his voice low, not wanting to lose her, even as he felt the weight of his own words pressing against his conscience. 

“Well? What’s that to you? That’s in the past, Drew! I don’t love you anymore!” she shouted, the truth of it cutting through the spiralling chaos.

“Good!” he snapped back, a childish retort, fueled by anger rather than sense. “I never loved you!”

“Great!” she responded, the sharpness in her voice echoing his emotions, yet hers felt like a sword piercing through. 

“Fine!” he exploded, even gathering up the remnants of his anger. “You were just a nuisance to me, I tolerated you! You were a good little lapdog, always ready, but I never loved you. I never will!”

As his words ricocheted back at her, she blinked rapidly, her heart a battlefield of anger and disappointment. 

He held her gaze, the tumult of self-loathing spilling over. She’d always been there, nurturing and steadfast, but he had carelessly dismissed her. “You were convenient,” he spat. “I only kept you around when I needed you.”

Without thinking, she yanked her arm free from him, feeling the rush of freedom. “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed from you,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words, a protective armour pulled tight around her heart.

He winced, anger and frustration flooding his veins again. She was turning away, and a wild impulse kicked within him, wanting her back, yet all he could muster was a jaded response. “You’re welcome,” he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Great!” She pressed the lift button with a force that echoed the tumult within their hearts. 

The atmosphere in the elevator was charged with tension, heavy enough to suffocate. He stood still, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, eyes fixed on her as she furiously jabbed at the buttons. Each clang echoed in the confined space, a symphony of frustration. It was self-destructive, he knew that—he was playing the villain and hurting her on purpose. But deep down, beneath layers of pent-up anger and regret, a soft voice whispered a desperate hope: let this moment stretch. 

“Fucking—fuck—” She cursed under her breath, her voice laced with irritation, each word like a knife slicing through the heated silence.

He couldn't help but observe her with a mixture of anger and concern, the way her fist clenched around the metal button, the sharp exhalations that escaped her lips. His heart raced as he internally warred with himself, torn between the urge to reach out and the need to remain aloof.

BANG. BANG. BANG. She slammed her palm against the buttons again, masking her tumultuous emotions under a façade of fury, but he could see right through it.

With a gesture of resolve, he loosened his arms, letting his hand drift delicately toward her wrist. The moment felt electric, the air vibrating with unspoken truths. “Stop,” he commanded, his voice gravelly, a plea disguised as an order. “Stop hitting the goddamn button. The elevator’s not going to come any faster.”

“Fuck you,” she shot back, rolling her eyes with enough disdain to match the fury swirling around them. 

He knew he had it coming—the searing rebuke was hers to give. But the words clawed at him, stirring something dark and volatile within. “I know I deserve that,” he admitted through gritted teeth, trying to suppress the anger simmering beneath his surface. “But you need to stop acting like a toddler.”

“You don’t know what you deserve,” she retorted, her eyes flashing with indignation. “You deserve to have someone take a shit in your mouth for how filthy you speak to me.”

A wide grin crept across her face as she delivered her insult, but he felt a flicker of admiration amidst the anger. “Yeah? Well maybe you deserve to have somebody take a piss down your throat,” he snapped back, unable to stop the venom slipping from his lips.

“Please, I’m not the one who can’t make a decision on his own because he's too busy with his thumb up his ass like a good little boy,” she shot right back, the mocking tone hanging in the air like thick smoke.

Her words dug deep into him, striking a nerve he thought he had buried. The truth stung, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I never had any trouble making a decision when it came to you,” he countered fiercely. “I chose Odessa over you every single time!”

“Oh brother, say something new. Ya boring,” she scoffed, impervious to the storm clouds brewing in his chest.

Heat ignited within him, a furnace of rage fueled by her calm demeanour. She was infuriatingly nonchalant, dismissing everything he said as if it were little more than a passing breeze. He stepped forward, closing the distance until they were inches apart. “You're a pathetic, annoying pest,” he snarled. “You were always buzzing around me, pestering me. YOU always did what i asked, i never asked for your help”

“Exactly, because you’ve never had to work for anything, I always did it for you. Seriously, you couldn’t even send back food without me.” she laughed mockingly, but the laughter echoed with an undercurrent of pain.

What she said ricocheted around his mind. It was true, but hearing her articulate it so plainly made him feel exposed, like an open wound. “Yeah, maybe I’ve never had to work,” he admitted grudgingly, “but I’ve never lowered myself to being a doormat. I’ve never let myself love someone so blindly to let them treat me like dirt.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you are a bad person?” she taunted, a smirk playing across her lips.

His heart lurched at the truth of it, and he flinched. The walls he'd built to protect himself began to crumble. “Yeah, I’m a pretty shitty person,” he snapped. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You are such a pushover, and you do exactly what people say because you can’t think for yourself. Exhibit A!” She gestured between them theatrically, but the underlying pain was evident.

Her words struck like daggers, twisting deep inside him. “A pushover?! You’re one to talk!” He stepped closer, fists clenching tighter as he confronted her. “You spent years following me around. You never once had the guts to say no, to stand up for yourself!”

“Well, I’m standing tall for myself now, and you can’t stand it!” she yelled, eyes blazing with defiance. “Because you cannot live in a world where I am not obsessed with you! Admit it! You want me to still be in love with you!”

A moment of silence engulfed them after her words. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the hallway as reality hung heavy between them. His chest tightened, and he was left grappling with the realisation that maybe she was right.

He took a step back as laughter filled the silence, but it wasn't joyous; it was strained and bitter. She was right; she was strong now, but somewhere within him, that nagging ache for her was still alive. He clenched his jaw, frustration and yearning warring within him, and as the weight of the moment settled over both of them, he realised there was no escaping the mess they had created together. 

Drew stood there, his breath catching in his throat, as she faced him defiantly. The tension hung between them like a thick fog, almost suffocating. Her stance was strong, unwavering, and it filled him with a strange mix of emotions. A wave of relief washed over him at the realisation that she wouldn’t back down, that she still had the fire he’d once admired. But then she pierced him with her words—you want me to still be in love with you—and it hit him like ice water on his skin, jolting him with its truth. 

“Why the hell would I want you to still be in love with me? What would I gain from that, huh?” he snapped, bitterness spilling from his lips as he tried to mask the tightening in his chest.

“I dunno, Joseph. You’re the one who feels that way,” she shrugged, the movement light and dismissive, her back now turned to him as she turned toward the elevator doors. A part of him wanted to scream, to chase after her, but he stood rooted to the spot, anger and frustration coursing through him.

“I do not!” The words left his mouth harsher than intended, and before he knew what was happening, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a mix of desperation and rage. 

“I don’t—” he started, but just as quickly as the words began to flow, they rushed to a stop. The air felt thick, and he swallowed hard, grappling with himself in a torrent of conflicting thoughts.

“Don’t. What?” she growled, her eyes narrowing, a challenge simmering just beneath the surface, daring him to continue. 

Every heartbeat thundered in his ears as he fought against the tremor in his voice. “I don’t… I—” He was caught in a web of his own making, words choking him, the truth stinging at the back of his mind.

“What? Say it. Open that pretty mouth and say it.” She raised her eyebrows, mocking him, her tone dripping with the satisfaction of having backed him into a corner.

He hesitated, that penetrating stare causing him to falter. She was right there, baiting him, and yet the truth felt like a heavy stone lodged in his throat. All he could do was swallow again, helpless, his heart racing so violently he thought it might just burst from the strain. He felt trapped, cornered by her words and his own emotions.

“Fuck you,” he retorted, his gaze fierce as it locked onto hers. But even as he said it, the strength behind the words felt flimsy, like a wounded puppy trying to growl. 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” she tilted her head, her expression one of triumphant satisfaction, as if she held all the strings in this dangerous game they were playing.

Drew felt the weight of her gaze, each heartbeat echoing the truth he was too afraid to voice. She was right. Somewhere deep down, he craved her affection, wanted her to still care. Her indifference cut deeper than any insult, striking at the core of who he was. 

Drew clenched his jaw, palpable frustration radiating from his rigid frame. His hands curled tightly into fists at his sides, each knuckle white with agitation. How dare she stand there so calmly, so smugly, while he wrestled with the turmoil inside? 

But there she was, unyielding and unapologetic, challenging his authority without uttering a single word. It set off a fire within him, a mix of anger and an inexplicable allure that drew him toward her. The thought of her defiance sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. He needed to regain control. 

With a sudden movement, he stepped forward, closing the space between them. Before she could react, he wrapped his arm around her waist and yanked her against his chest, trapping her in his hold. 

"What the—" she gritted out, shocked and bewildered.

The moment she pressed against him, warmth radiating from her body, it was like a flicker igniting a flame within him. Here she was, against him, familiar yet inexplicably foreign. Beneath all the fighting and the harsh words, this was an undeniable truth: he had missed this physical connection.

He swallowed hard, battling a tumult of emotions, his heart racing in sync with the electric tension. Looking down into her wide eyes, he realised he was losing his composure. In a raw, hoarse whisper, he muttered, “Just shut up.”

“Make me!” she snapped back, her eyes gleaming with challenge.

Drew’s breath hitched at her audacity, the defiance only stoking the fire of his frustration and something deeper, something he had no intention of admitting to himself. 

The elevator dinged, an unsettling sound that reverberated through the hallway, but the tension between them was far thicker than any surrounding noise. He stood there, fury and desire coiling within him like a tightly wound spring, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he acted on impulse, grabbing her and pulling her harshly against him. 

“What the—” The words barely escaped her lips before he cut her off, crashing his mouth against hers with a fervour that could set the world ablaze. The kiss was anything but tender; it was a maelstrom of frustration, resentment, and longing. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her as though he were drowning in the very essence of her.

She pushed weakly against his chest, her breath hitching as his lips moved fervently, a mix of anger and passion improvising a wild rhythm between them. Did she hate him? Did she even know? It was all an emotional hurricane—his heart raced to scary, new peaks while his mind spun backward into memories of every argument, every tense word exchanged that had led to this very moment.

He couldn’t restrain the frustrated noise that slipped from his throat as she struggled. With a sudden, voracious need, he shifted his grip, letting go of her chin only to tangle his fingers in her dark hair. He tilted her head back, forcing her to surrender, deepening the kiss fervently while their breaths intertwined, filled with desperation.

Then, as if hours had passed, he pulled away, just long enough to gasp for breath, a fine line of saliva tethering them like a fragile connection that felt both thrilling and terrifying. His gaze locked onto hers, and in that instant, he caught a glimpse of disbelief painted across her features, her lipstick smudged and her wild hair dishevelled, an intoxicating sight that made his heart thunder violently.

She blinked slowly, eyes wide in shock, tracing the remnants of their kiss that lingered on his bottom lip. A full rush of heat surged through him—not of embarrassment but a quickened realisation. He hadn’t captured her to silence her; he had kissed her because, for that single moment, he couldn't contain the need anymore. He wanted her, wanted to bridge the chasm of emotion that surrounded them.

“I…,” she stammered, then broke away, forcibly shoving him from her as she stared at her hand, as if it could shield her from the reality of what had just happened. "What the hell was that?"

He watched her scramble, the panic on her face igniting an uncontrollable anger within him. How dare she act as if she could erase this moment? The space between them wobbled with unsaid words and unresolved feelings. His heart wasn't sorry, nor was his body, but his frustration boiled hotter, mingling with the unwanted sensation of regret. He took a step towards her.

“Don’t—” She snapped, pointing at him in a desperate demand to stay back, but it only sent a flash of indignation through his veins. He wasn’t about to yield.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growled, a rough edge sharpening his tone. Each step he took toward her amplified the tension, the space constricting tighter around them like a noose.

“Fuck you!” she shot back, anger and disbelief casting sharp daggers in her eyes as she thrust her hands into the air.

He couldn’t contain a twisted smile that bled more contempt than amusement. It rippled through him, igniting everything. “No, you fuck you. You’re the one acting like you didn’t enjoy it too. Don’t pretend you have any moral high ground here!” 

“God! You’re so fucking delusional!” Her words hung between them, heavy with anger and frustration, every syllable echoing an undeniable truth that tied together all that they had become.

They were caught in an unyielding storm, each determined to stand their ground, knowing that the truth lay just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

The air between them crackled with electricity, thick and oppressive, as he stood there, eyes blazing with an intensity that hung heavy in the small space surrounding them. The lingering taste of their kiss was the last remnant of what had just transpired, yet here they were, locked in a battle of words that mirrored their entwined feelings. 

“You’re delusional if you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t just forget every single thing for a moment when I kissed you,” he snapped, his heart pounding in a rhythm that echoed the truth he was reluctant to face. He was painfully aware of her reaction—not just in her eyes, wide with disbelief, but how her body had yielded to his just moments before. She had enjoyed it, just as much as he had.

“You—” Her voice trembled with a furious indignation that only seemed to stoke the flames fanning within him. “You—GOD!” The words rushed from her lips in an exasperated gasp.

He revelled in the way confusion painted her features, watching as she grappled for words through the haze of frustration. It was a twisted satisfaction he couldn’t deny; she had become a puzzle he had long wished to solve, and he felt utterly triumphant at having thrown her off balance.

“God—you know why I would never date you!?” Her finger jabbed in the air, punctuating her rhetorical question like a knife.

“Why?” He shot back, a scoff escaping him, his fists coiling into tight balls at his sides. He could already predict her answer, but he craved to hear her voice it. This was the moment he had yearned for—her cornered, finally stripped of her defences, with nowhere to run.

“Because YOU. DRIVE ME. NUTS. STARKEY!” she screamed, her fury palpable, as her nose nearly brushed against his. 

“And you—” he retorted with ferocity, “drive me nuts! You make me crazier than anyone else in this entire world! You, with your big eyes and stupid dark hair and your dumb laugh and goddamn stupid smile! You drive me insane, Y/N, and you have for years!” 

The words were tumbling out of him, each one ratcheting up the tension between them, an unfiltered outburst of pent-up emotion. 

“Yeah?! Well it sure sounds like you’re obsessed with me!” she yelled back, fire blazing behind her eyes, daring him to deny it.

“I am obsessed with you!” he shot back, his voice going an octave higher, the veil of carefully guarded emotions finally torn away. “I’m obsessed with the fact that you followed me around for years and I never realised that you were in love with me! And now that I do know, I can’t do anything about it because you’ve finally moved on!”

The words hung in the air like an ominous cloud, and as they slipped from his mouth, he felt a moment of disorientation, stumbling as her expression shifted from anger to pure disbelief. 

“What?!” she managed to utter, her eyes wide, searching his face for any sign that this was a cruel joke. 

He abruptly stopped shouting, taking a step back, a bewildered silence enveloping them. He hadn’t intended to let that slip, hadn’t meant to lay bare the vulnerability buried deep inside of him. But there it was, floating between them and demanding acknowledgement.

“You heard me,” he said, voice low and rough, the weight of his confession settling over them like a heavy cloak. 

Y/N’s incredulous look bore into him, a tumult of emotions swirling in her gaze—shock, anger, realisation, and perhaps something more unabashedly raw. It was all there, and for the first time, he could see the layers of misunderstanding beginning to peel away. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came, leaving them suspended in that moment, the world outside forgotten, as the truth hung like a thread dangling waiting to be pulled taut.

“No. No, I don’t think so.” 

Her voice was steady, defiant, as she crossed her arms, every muscle in her body radiating cold rejection. He could feel her glare cut through the air between them like a knife, sharp and unyielding.

He clenched his jaw, grappling with the pounding in his chest as he took a step closer, invading her space. “Yes, you did,” he shot back, his voice sharp and strained. “You heard me; you just don’t want to admit it.”

“I did hear you. I also know that you’re a big fat liar, and I fucking hate you,” she snapped, the words biting and raw, echoing with her fury.

“I’m a liar?” His voice lifted incredulously, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You think I’m lying when I say that I’m obsessed with you? That you drive me nuts? I’m being honest—for the first goddamn time in my life!”

“Well, I don’t believe you! Because you’re a liar.” Her voice quaked, and she shrugged as if her disdain could physically push him away. “And you are the worst kind of liar. Because your lies sound so much like the truth that it’s impossible for me to tell the difference.”

Her words struck deep, and for a moment, silence loomed between them. He felt his chest heave under the weight of her accusation—she had hit too close to home. She was right: he was good at weaving deception into convictions so convincing they could easily ensnare even the sharpest minds. But with her, that manipulation folded under the pressure of something more profound and real, something he couldn’t fabricate.

“I’m not lying,” he managed to breathe, his voice a rough whisper, each syllable laced with urgency.

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Believe. You.” She seethed, her nose nearly brushing against his, every word a challenge, a proclamation laced with the tumult between them.

He could feel the intensity of her gaze, the fire and disbelief swirling in her eyes, leaving no room for doubt. She was so close that every detail of her—every curve, every quirk—was amplified in his vision, and with the intoxicating scent of her skin flooding his senses, he fought a desperate urge gnawing at him.

And yet, beneath the fury and resentment, something deeper shimmered in her gaze—a flicker of vulnerability that tugged at his heart. Goddamnit, he wanted her more than he'd ever allowed himself to admit.

“God, look at you,” he muttered, his eyes sweeping across her face, drinking in every nuance of her expression, grappling with how close they were. She was a force of nature, fierce and untamed, and at that moment, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The world around them faded into oblivion; all that remained was the air swelling between them, thick with unresolved tension. He took another step forward, closing the space between them completely, surrendering to the magnetic pull that drew him to her.

As she inhaled deeply, he felt it. The moment hung suspended in time as she leaned in, eyes fluttering shut, and that was it—he broke. All restraint slipped through his fingers like loose sand. He was done with the self-imposed barriers, the hesitant games.

He cupped her face in his hands, capturing her mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss that demanded response. It was desperate and needy, an unguarded collision of emotions that echoed the storm brewing in his soul.

Her reaction was instant—a gasp escaping into his lips as her hands clenched tightly against his dress shirt, caught in the whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Part of her wanted to push him away, to reject everything she felt—and yet, another part was drawn to him, willing to pull him closer, to drown in this moment that teetered between love and hatred.

They were no longer debating the lies; instead, they were entwined in something he had tried to keep buried for far too long. With every push and pull, every heated breath, the truth that had been hiding in the shadows came rushing forth, demanding to be acknowledged. And now, there was no turning back.

He groaned low in his throat, the sound muffled against her lips as she gasped. But he didn’t pull away. No, instead, he pushed himself against her, feeling the heat radiating off her body. His hand slid into her hair, tugging gently but insistently, as if to remind her how long he had been waiting for this moment, how hungry he was—for her.

Months of pent-up desire unleashed in a feverish kiss, rough and unapologetic. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, deep and urgent, while his other hand slipped beneath the neck of her dress, skimming over the bare skin of her shoulder.

She reluctantly sighed into his lips, pouring out all the anger and hurt that had accumulated over the months. She grasped his jaw, tilting his head as she took control, kissing him back with a fervour that surprised even herself.

He groaned again, the sound rising from deep within him, and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to savour this moment. Finally having her in his arms ignited a fire he thought he had long extinguished. But even in this bliss, he wouldn’t concede dominance so easily; he had been waiting too long for this. 

His hand slid from her cheek down to her throat, holding her in place, arching her neck back slightly, a silent command for her to surrender to him. 

Her lips parted in pleasure beneath the sweet pressure of his grip on her neck.

He seized the opportunity, pushing deeper with his tongue, pulling her flush against him, their bodies merging. The heat between them blazed, and he let out an involuntary growl at how wild this felt, how desperately he craved her. 

“Drew—” She panted against his mouth, feeling dizzy with hunger and want, squeezing his hand around her throat lightly, as if daring him to tighten his hold even more. She had forgotten the world outside, the blaring music from the after-party just a few feet away. All that existed was him and this intoxicating moment.

Her moan was a siren’s call, so deliciously erotic it stole his breath. He felt his fingers grip her throat tighter, and when he opened his eyes slightly, he registered the reality where they still stood in the hallway. The thought of someone witnessing their gasps and murmurs sent a thrill mixed with a touch of anxiety coursing through him.

He wanted her with an urgency that was bordering on madness, but this wasn’t the place. Reluctantly, he pulled back, panting heavily as he spoke, his voice growling with need. “Come to my room.”

Dazed, she blinked lazily up at him, confusion flitting through her. “What?” 

The whisper fell from her lips as her hand tangled further in his tousled hair, an instinctual plea for him to come closer again, to kiss her.

He saw the need in her gaze, the way her hand curled through his hair, and it almost broke him. Almost. But he fought the urge, forcing himself to maintain some semblance of composure. His hand slipped from her throat, a wary truce—or perhaps a promise of what was to come.

“My room,” he repeated, his voice deep and almost primal, as he nodded towards the elevator down the hall. “Come with me.”

She closed my eyes, surrendering to the pull of his voice and the electricity crackling between them, letting him guide her.

In that instant, he released her, intertwining his fingers with hers, a tangible connection that anchored them both. Desire thrummed in his veins as he tugged her toward the elevator, every instinct screaming for him to kiss her again, to press her against the wall and lose himself in her. But he forced himself to stay calm, though his heart raced in anticipation, each beat echoing with the promise of what awaited in his room.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and together they stepped inside, the cramped space encasing them like a cocoon of unfiltered tension. The world outside was a distant murmur—one filled with laughter, music, and vibrant life—but here, it was just them and the palpable hunger that hung in the air, waiting to be unleashed.

The moment the elevator doors slid closed, a wave of urgency surged between them. He backed her up against the back wall, his firm body pinning her in place, his hand resting powerfully beside her head. With every breath, he could feel the space between them charged, electric.

His chest heaved with anticipation as his eyes traced her features, roaming from her flushed lips to the vulnerable skin of her neck, and lower, where the tantalising edge of her backless dress teased his senses. 

He couldn’t wait anymore.

Y/N sighed into his lips, feeling the heat of his body pressing into her as her hands explored the tantalising contours of his shoulders, feeling the rigid muscles beneath his suit as she hopelessly leaned into him. Y/N’s backless dress shifted as he pulled her closer, their bodies colliding in a passionate urgency.

A low growl rumbled in his throat with every stroke of her hands over his back, and he kissed her harder, capturing her mouth in a possessive and desperately needy embrace. When she sighed against him, letting her fingers trail up over his stomach, something inside him snapped, igniting a wild hunger. His hands began to roam her back, fingers sliding beneath the fabric of her dress, caressing the skin of her bare back with a fervour that bordered on madness.

Y/N arched into him, surrendering completely as she kissed him as sloppily and fervently as she’d always wanted to. The taste of him—heady, intoxicating—consumed her completely.

His hand that had rested against the wall slipped down to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him once more. He could feel the heat of her body through their clothes, a tantalising friction that sent a rush of desire coursing through him. He ground against her as his tongue thrust roughly into her mouth, seeking something deeper, something primal. His other hand slid lower, finding her thigh, where he squeezed her delectable, soft skin.

Y/N whimpered into his lips, overwhelmed by the craving that surged through her, and when the elevator door opened, she found herself instinctively walking him backward out of the lift.

Emerging from the elevator, he allowed her to walk him backward, their bodies still locked together. He could feel her every inch pressed against him, the warmth of her skin igniting a fire within. His lips detoured from her mouth, moving downwards, kissing her jaw, then to the tantalising curve of her neck, where he found the rushing rhythm of her pulse and suckled on it hungrily.

“Room—key—Drew—key—” Y/N panted desperately, tilting her head back to give him more access to her skin, her body aching for his touch.

Frustration mingled with a raw need, and he fumbled to retrieve his key from his pocket while kissing his way down her throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin where her heartbeat raced. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he growled hoarsely, his voice low and rough with desire. He finally managed to extract the key card but was so lost in the moment that he nearly missed the slot.

She growled in frustration at his clumsiness, seizing the key card from him and swiping it swiftly, determined to get inside.

When the door swung open and they tumbled through, he fell on top of her, his entire body covering her, pressing her into the cool floor. With the weight of his desire and the overwhelming passion igniting every cell in his body, he couldn’t take it any longer.

He pressed his lips against hers, and the world around them faded into oblivion. Just the two of them remained in that intoxicating moment, tangled together in the depths of their longing—an insatiable need that demanded to be fulfilled.

Under the dim glow of the evening light, the air between them crackled with palpable tension, the world outside forgotten. It was a moment suspended in time, one where anything seemed possible and every heartbeat echoed the impending explosion of desire. 

Drew's hands found the hem of Y/N's dress, a seemingly innocent movement that ignited a wildfire of longing within him. He tugged the fabric upwards, inch by tantalising inch, until it glided up her thighs, exposing the delicate lace of her underwear pressed against him. The warmth radiating from their bodies created a magnetic pull, drawing him closer as he pressed against her, his body a whisper away from hers.

“God, you feel so good, Y/N,” he breathed, the words heavy with an intoxicating mix of desperation and longing. His lips found the delicate skin of her neck, where her pulse raced beneath his touch, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

The heat of the moment surged through her, a moan escaping her lips. “Drew…” It was both a plea and an exclamation, a desperate urge to bridge the chasm of anticipation left between them. Her hips rolled upward, seeking the friction only he could provide, her surrender evident as her head fell back against the plush carpet.

Drew focused on the intoxicating connection, each thrust of his hips eliciting primal instincts, sending waves of pleasure rippling through them both. His breath quickened, eyes darkening as he nibbled at her neck, wanting to lose himself in her, wanting her completely. “You’re driving me crazy,” he growled, his voice a low rumble as he lavished her with the affection of his lips.

Yet, amidst the fervour, a nagging voice echoed in her mind: Stop wasting time. With a spark of determination, she pushed his blazer off his shoulders, the fabric fluttering to the floor, her fingers fumbled in haste raging against the barrier separating them. “I want to feel you,” she panted, urgency edging her voice.

Drew’s response was a throaty groan, a sound that vibrated through the air between them. His fingers tightened around her thighs, igniting the fire that blazed within him. But he knew they were running out of time. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. With a swift movement, he rose to his knees, fingers finding the buttons on his dress shirt. Each button opened like a promise, revealing skin beneath, of a body yearning to be touched.

Her eyes glimmered with hunger, like a predator poised to pounce. She propped herself on her elbows, watching him almost intently, her lips parted as she savoured the sight of him shedding the fabric that separated them. 

He swallowed hard, a wave of desire crashing over him at the sight of her back, bare and inviting. The way she teased him—the straps of the dress slipping down her shoulders—almost sent him spiralling into madness. “Take your dress off,” his voice was rough, almost primal, drunk on the gift she presented. 

With a lazy smile, she complied, the movement slow and deliberate; it was a seduction in itself. She revealed her back, gloriously exposed, her every move pulling him deeper into a void of yearning. His eyes traced every contour of her body, captivated by the graceful arch of her back, the gentle way her shoulders shifted, the enticing curve of her waist.

The sight of her rising onto her knees was enough to send his mind racing, raw desire coiling in his stomach. Drew’s breath hitched as he moved instinctively to the button of his slacks, his heart pounding like a war drum. 

Y/N lowered her face to the carpet, her back arched enticingly, a vision of perfect temptation. The growl that formed in his chest was primal, a manifestation of his desire. He could no longer resist; the intensity of the moment had taken on a life of its own.

As he lowered himself beside her, Drew’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, the weight of their need threatening to consume them both. Time ceased to exist as they fell into each other’s orbit, two bodies uniting in a symphony of passion that awaited a crescendo.

                                               —TIME SKIP—

In the dim light of the hotel room, a cocoon of warmth enveloped Drew and Y/N on the floor, sheets tangled around their limbs, staving off the chill of reality just outside their embrace. The air was thick with remnants of their shared moments, tangled breaths and whispered confessions hanging like incense in the air, suffusing the space with a heady sense of intimacy.

Drew surrendered to the blissful stillness, his arms cradling her against his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart sync with the soft cadence of her breathing. With his cheek resting atop her head, he inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent of her hair, a mixture of shampoo and something uniquely hers.

Y/N peppered kisses across his bare chest, her hair spilling like silk over him, enchanting him with every gentle touch. She was ethereal, a living embodiment of the very dreams he hadn’t dared to voice. He sighed softly, letting her warmth seep into his skin, a balm for the unresolved aches of his past. His fingers moved instinctively, tracing the delicate curvature of her waist, basking in the softness of her body pressed against his.

“Mm, hey,” he muttered, the tender sound barely escaping his lips as he caressed her skin.

“Hey yourself,” she whispered back, teasingly nibbling at his jaw, her playful gesture igniting a low groan from deep within him. He tilted his head, granting her more space, surrendering to the wave of indulgent languor that washed over him.

“Mm, I want a cigarette,” he murmured quietly, a simple desire that hung in the air like the sweet scent of their bliss.

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing his once more, igniting a fire within him that begged for more. “We can do that,” she promised sweetly, before asking, “Where’s your pack?”

With an easy confidence, he leaned forward, punctuating the moment with a nuzzle against her neck, his breath fanning against her skin as he replied, “Bathroom, on the counter. Could you get it for me?”

“Okay,” she mumbled against his lips, a teasing sparkle in her eyes as she rose, the sheet slipping down her form like a whisper. He watched her walk away, captivated by the graceful sway of her hips, the way the soft glow outlined her silhouette. 

As she padded barefoot to the bathroom, Drew lingered for a moment, soaking in the serenity that followed their passion. He replayed their wild entanglement in his mind, each moment infused with unspoken words and forbidden desires. A calm settled over him that he hadn't felt in months, a rare treasure amidst the tumult of his life.

When Y/N returned, the creaking floorboards announcing her presence, Drew opened his eyes, leaning back on his palms, a smile spreading across his lips when he saw her. She was radiant, like sunlight filtering through clouds, the pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other.

She lit one for him, and as he took the first deep drag, inhaling the smoky tendrils into his lungs, he let his gaze roam freely over her. The glow of the room found its way to her skin, illuminating the beauty before him. —I’m obsessed with you— he recalled almost wistfully, the admission coursing through his thoughts.

Y/N took his cigarette from between his lips, her soft laughter cascading through the space as she took a drag herself, her hair framing her face like a halo. The act alone sent a surge of raw need through him—she exuded an almost magnetic charm that was impossible to resist.

“What?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

“Just looking at you,” he muttered, awash in a blend of admiration and possessiveness.

“Just looking?” she teased, creeping up towards him, her delicate hand resting on his thigh as her lips approached his, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing second.

That playful banter shifted the atmosphere, the air thick with tension as Drew let out a breathless laugh, his heart racing. “There’s a lot more I can do than just look,” he responded, seriousness edging into his voice.

“Hmm,” she hummed, capturing his lips for a fleeting moment before playfully withdrawing. He yearned for her closeness, his hands instinctively seeking her, pulling her back into his embrace as their kisses deepened. 

Amid the heat, a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over him. “Stay tonight. Please,” he whispered into the air, each word laced with desperation.

“I can’t,” she confessed, a flicker of pain betraying her steady voice as she met his gaze. “This was fun. But it can’t happen again.”

He felt the rush of hurt flood through him, the weight of her words like a physical blow. “Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because we hate each other. It wouldn’t work between us. And besides—what about Odessa?” she explained, her voice heavy with reluctance.

The tension in the room was nearly palpable, a heavy weight that hung between them like a dark cloud. Drew's breath caught in his throat as he felt Y/N shift slightly, searching for that emotional distance that had once divided them, yet now felt as fragile as gossamer. 

“I don’t hate you,” he said softly, the words sounding almost foreign in his mouth as his hand reached out, fingers brushing against her waist. It was an instinctual move, one that tethered her back to him, if only for a moment. 

But as Y/N uttered Odessa’s name, he felt himself recoil slightly even without moving away. The mention of the woman he was supposed to love felt like a physical blow, and he turned his gaze from her to the ceiling, trying to avoid the piercing look in her eyes that held both hurt and clarity. 

“Things have been rocky between me and Odessa for a while now… I don’t know if we’ll last,” he confessed, the confession landing heavily in the silence that stretched between them. 

“Yeah—I don’t hate you either. But I don’t like you either, Drew. You really hurt me. I can’t forget that. The things you said—just tonight was a weakness,” she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice snaking straight to his heart. 

Her words cut deep, and he could feel the damning truth within them. He had wound himself up so tightly that all it seemed to take was one moment of weakness—a mere slip in the gears of his carefully constructed façade—and he had let her in. He had wanted to be strong, to deny the magnetic pull between them, but here they were, two people caught in the wreckage of their past. 

“I know,” he muttered, his fingers instinctively tightening around her waist. He didn't want to let her go; he couldn't face the idea of her slipping away again, not after everything they had just shared. He still couldn’t comprehend how he had lost control so completely, how the moment had come to this—she had agreed to be with him, had agreed to bare herself to him, and all the while, tangled up in the complications of their history.

“Just stay tonight,” he pleaded, a hint of desperation lacing his voice, breaking the silence between them. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating, pulling at his very chest as he attempted to keep her close. He was all too aware of how pathetic he sounded, how desperately he needed her to choose him even for an evening, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I can’t. If I stay, we’ll have sex again. What if Odessa comes up here after the party is over?” she explained softly, her voice steady even as it shattered his already-fragile composure. Her logic was undeniable, and it sent a ripple of impatience through him. 

Drew’s eyes closed, and he let out a frustrated groan, teeth grinding against the discomfort clawing at him. He knew she was right—she was being rational, logical, and he was being reckless. But the thought of losing her company, of letting this moment slip through his fingers, made him feel utterly desperate. 

“Just a little while longer then. Come here,” he muttered, yanking her back down towards him. He crushed his lips against hers, the kiss born from longing and need rather than passion in that moment. It was all he could think about, a primal need to feel her against him again, to dissipate the agony of reality that was threatening to pull them apart once more. 

As their mouths met, he felt the world fade away, the blinding light of clarity drowned in a haze of longing. The taste of her lips rekindled the fire they had fanned for too long in the shadows—a fire he feared would only leave devastation in its wake. But for now, he didn’t care. The moment enveloped them, and all that mattered was the intoxicating warmth of Y/N, wrapped in the sheets like the complex threads of their tangled past.

Yet even as they lost themselves in each other, a creeping sense of dread clawed at the edges of Drew's mind—the knowledge that when the dawn broke, the ghosts of their mistakes would begin to hover in the light once again.

The tension in the air was thick and electric as she kissed him back, her lips moving languidly against his, each connection igniting a deeper hunger within him. The way her hands tugged at his roots sent shivers down his spine, awakening every nerve in his body. Drew groaned into her mouth, lost in the moment, returning each of her tender kisses with a mix of desperation and fervour, savouring every stolen second.

But as the kiss deepened, reality began to intrude upon their blissful refuge. Reluctantly, he pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps, eyes searching hers for an answer he feared he already knew. “Why? Why does it have to be a one-time thing? Why can’t we keep doing this?” He felt a pang of urgency clawing at his chest, a mix of longing and confusion.

“Because that’s called an affair,” she murmured softly, her voice a mix of teasing and pain, as her lips brushed against his ear, trailing down to suck gently on his earlobe, igniting a fire within him.

Drew’s eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the sensations, the sound of her words echoing painfully in his mind. “I don’t care,” he mumbled, desperation lacing his tone. It was true. At that moment, he didn’t care about the consequences, the messy entanglements of their lives. All he could think about was her, the warmth of her body against his, the taste of her lingering on his lips.

But there was a faint voice in the background, warning him to be cautious, to think clearly. “You’re not thinking straight,” she reminded him, her hands trailing down his shoulders, instilling both comfort and chaos within him.

His heart raced as he replied again, more insistent this time, “I don’t care.” Her gentle bite on his bottom lip sent a wave of need crashing over him, blurring the lines of right and wrong even further. It was intoxicating. The desire for her felt like a drug coursing through his veins, urging him to abandon reason.

He looked into her eyes, his breath suddenly catching in his throat, his voice dropping to a near whisper filled with longing. “Please, Y/N. Just stay. No sex. I just want you.” The plea hung in the air, heavy and desperation-laden. He knew it sounded foolish, like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff, but he didn’t care. 

“That’s a lie,” she replied, shaking her head, the softness in her gaze contrasting sharply with the reality of the situation. Her fingers danced along his skin, leaving trails of warmth and desire but also doubt, reminding him of the fragile state of their connection.

Drew’s heart sank at her words. He wanted to argue, to proclaim the depth of what he felt, to dismiss the methods of logic and reason that had brought them to this moment, but all he could do was stare into her eyes and wonder if the yearning could bridge the chasm between them. 

Drew gazed deeply into her eyes, his heart racing as he spoke, “It’s not,” he insisted, desperation lacing his voice as her hands found their way to his shoulders—soft but steady, grounding him. “I just— I just want to hold you. I want to keep kissing you, I—” His breath hitched, words tumbling from his lips, “Please don’t go. I don’t want to go back to being at each other’s throats.” 

Y/N faltered, surrendering to the weight of his plea, a sigh escaping her lips as she sunk back onto his thighs. The air between them thickened, a mixture of passion and pain, electric and heartbreaking. 

“Then what do you want, Drew?” she asked softly, her voice a melange of hope and hesitation.

His heart thundered as he observed her, every detail of her etched in his mind—the way her hair fell slightly to one side, the way her lips curved when she spoke, the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “I want to keep doing this. I want to keep kissing you and holding you and touching you,” he confessed, the emotions spilling from him in raw waves. “I want to be able to talk to you again without wanting to strangle you.” 

She broke their gaze, her thoughts swirling, and Drew could sense her resolve faltering. “That’s just who we are, Drew. We drive each other insane,” she reminded him, her voice soft yet firm, like a whisper meant to break through the tension, but it only deepened his urgency.

He shook his head, a frantic determination igniting within him. “We don’t have to be,” he argued, as if his words could alter reality, his eyes searching hers. “We can—we can learn to get along. Don’t you remember how good we used to be? You were my best friend.” 

A wistful smile flitted across her lips at the memory, a fleeting moment that warmed him, a brief balm against their turbulent history. “Yeah. We were,” she admitted, her gaze softening, but doubt still lingered in the air, lingering like an unresolved note in a symphony.

Encouraged by that spark of nostalgia, Drew leaned into it, allowing a small, sad smile to graze his features. “We can be again,” he murmured, conviction lacing his words as he slowly moved his hand to her thigh, a gentle gesture imbued with longing.

But even as he made that bold move, the shadows of their past loomed large, whispering doubts and insecurities. Would they really be able to navigate their twisted history filled with resentment, lost moments, and tangled feelings? His hand rested there— a silent plea for not only closeness but for a chance at something more, something that felt so close within reach yet impossibly far away. 

And in that dimly lit room, the fabric of their connection was fragile, stretched between the weight of what had been and the hope of what could be. Drew held his breath, feeling the fine edge of desperation, longing for her to take a leap with him into the uncertain darkness, to trust him once more, and to break free from the cycle of anger that had defined them for far too long. 

He could feel her hesitation, the weighing of his words against the chasm of their shared history, and he silently begged her to understand. To take that leap with him. Because he couldn’t imagine a world where she walked away, where the possibility of them—however messy, however complicated—was abandoned in the silence of the night.

The mood in the room was heavy, each heartbeat echoing like a distant drum, underscoring the distance left unspoken between them. He could feel the warmth of her body so close to his, yet the chasm between their hearts was the most frigid void he had ever faced. Drew could sense it in her eyes—the hurt, the betrayal—but it was the fire of that pain that seared through him. He needed to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed since the moment he had pushed her away.

The room was thick with tension, the kind that coiled like a spring, ready to snap. Drew’s heart raced as he gazed into her eyes, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions cascading between them. 

“It won’t be the same though,” she began, her voice a pained whisper, trembling with the weight of the memories. “You really hurt me when you rejected me so harshly, Drew. And you did it for Odessa.” With each word, the stinging in her eyes threatened to spill over, but she held back her tears, resolute.

“I know. God, I know,” he responded, his voice cracking like the fragile state of their connection. It was agony, watching pain flicker across her face, knowing he was the architect of her hurt. The chasm he'd created yawned before him, and he didn't know how to bridge it. Slowly, his hand began to inch up her thigh, desperate to soothe her anguish, and to heal the rift that had torn them apart.

“You never apologised,” she reminded him softly, her gaze unwavering.

“I’m apologising now,” he murmured back, his voice deepening with sincerity as he stared at her, his hand pausing at the crescent of her thigh. He swallowed hard, continuing, “You have no idea how long I’ve regretted that day. How many times I’ve replayed it in my mind and wished I’d handled it differently.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, urging him silently to continue, and their chemistry ignited once more. She ground against his hand, igniting a fire within him that was both thrilling and painful. 

“I was an idiot,” he confessed, shaking his head shamefully as he looked deep into her eyes. “I regretted the moment I said no. God, I just wanted so badly to take it all back.” 

“Tell me more,” she murmured, sinking down on him, her body pressing against him as she gripped his shoulders tightly.

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him; it came both from his yearning for her and the heartache of their past. “I should have said yes,” he admitted, a pained resignation lacing his words. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you’re all I wanted to pull closer.”

“More,” she encouraged him, moving her hips with an intoxicating rhythm that nearly stole his breath.

“And I shouldn’t have been a dick,” he replied, gasping for air as she ground against him. “I shouldn’t have said—oh, God, Y/N—” His voice faltered, catching in his throat as the sheer force of his desire nearly overwhelmed him.

“And?” she teased, excitement dancing in her gaze as it egged him on.

“And I should have been gentler,” he continued, each word a confession steeped in longing. “I should have made it clear that it wasn’t because I didn’t want you. I wanted you so bad. God, Y/N, I wanted you so bad.” 

“More, Drew. Tell me,” she whispered, her breath hot against him as she pushed him to the brink.

“And—” he strained, thoughts dissipating with every movement. “I-I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want you. I did. God, I did.” 

His hand crept further up her thigh, coaxing her to keep the intoxicating rhythm alive.

“Go on,” she urged, her lips grazing his as her pace quickened.

“And—and God, I hate myself for making you feel bad, for making you doubt yourself, for—” He let out a deep groan, his mind consumed with the heat of the moment. “Oh God, Y/N—”

“There you go, baby—go on—” she coaxed, tugging on his hair to pull him closer.

“And I—oh God, I-I never wanted you to think I didn’t—oh God,” he stuttered, the vulnerability in his voice nearly bringing him to his knees. The mixture of pleasure and regret sent him spiralling, his heart laid bare before her. “I love you.” 

The relief of those words hung in the air, a balm soothing the wounds of their shared history. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, and as he spoke, she doubled down on her movements, a sly grin spreading across her face.

His moans grew louder, the stakes rising as she encouraged him further. “I love you so much,” he gasped, his body trembling from their fervent exchange, “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

With a triumphant grin still dancing on her lips, she pushed him to his limits, the palpable connection sparking a resolve deeper than either had anticipated. Their hearts, once fractured, now beat in sync, reverberating through the electric air, the crescendo of emotions reaching a fever pitch. The path ahead was uncertain, but in this fiery moment, they were undeniably, irrevocably bound.

The air between them was electric, charged with a tension that had festered for months, and finally, words long buried broke the surface. As she rewarded his truth with renewed vigour, Drew felt a wave of relief wash over him, mingling beautifully with the heady pleasure she was provoking. “There you go—good boy—” she murmured, and he could do nothing but surrender to the moment.

Their bodies moved together like a well-practised dance, each thrust speaking the words unsaid for too long. Drew's voice was choked with desperation when he declared, “I love you so much.” Each word was an acknowledgment of the yearning he'd harboured deep within, a confession that he had feared would never escape his lips.

Underneath the rush of emotions, she rewarded him, her own movements quickening, each thrust drawing him closer to the precipice. He was a man unravelling at the seams. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” he gasped, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, a mix of relief and raw vulnerability dancing within him.

“Shhh,” she commanded gently, sensing how close he was. Drew’s shuddering breaths betrayed him; the waves of bliss coursing through his body were almost too much to bear. Yet he didn't want it to stop. Not now. Not ever. The anchors of their past had finally loosened, and a euphoric freedom enveloped him as he clutched her tighter.

“You love me?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper that pierced through the haze clouding his mind. 

“Yeah, I love you,” he breathed, the admission anchoring him in this moment, grounding him with a stability he had craved for so long.

But then came her words, softly spoken yet cutting deeper than the sharpest blade. “I don’t love you—”

Those words sliced through him, a cruel reminder of what had been lost, and instinct pulled him closer, burying his face into her neck, seeking solace in her warmth. “I know,” he murmured, the acceptance hitting his chest like a lead weight.

Yet amid the storm of disappointment, a glimmer of hope flickered through their haze. “But I can try to remember how,” she said, a tentative smile breaking through her vulnerability, a hesitant light in the midst of their dark past.

His grip on her tightened, fingers instinctively curling around her waist, a lifeline in turbulent waters. Hopelessness waged a war with yearning as he struggled to articulate his emotions, each breath a battle against despair. “You want to try?” His voice trembled, heavy with an almost childlike hope.

The silence hung in the air, a fragile bubble filled with every unvoiced confession and lost promise. In that moment, both of them understood: love was a journey, not a destination, and they stood on the precipice of a new beginning, teetering between fear and the desperate desire to dive in together.

“Yeah, baby. But only after you break up with Odessa,” she whispered, her voice teasing yet serious. Her movements were deliberate, pulling him closer even as the gulf between them threatened to drown them both.

His breath hitched, and he nodded, his frustration mingling with a desperate need. “I’ll—I’ll break up with her,” he stammered, urgency lacing his words. Each grind of her hips sent a shockwave through him, igniting desires he thought were buried, stifling the guilt wrapped around his heart. “I’ll break up with her tonight if you want. Just—” He groaned, surrendering to the passion between them, his arms tightening around her, their connection swirling into something electric.

“Just what, baby?” she cooed, her nails scraping lightly down his cheek, each touch sending shivers down his spine.

The question lingered in the air, but he was powerless to articulate an answer; the fire within him flared too bright, too hot to extinguish. The ache for her drowned out all rational thought. “Just—keep moving like that,” he breathed, surrendering to the glorious indulgence of their moment.

Her laughter was a melody that wrapped around him, intertwining with his desires as she shifted into a slow, deliberate grind. “Like that?” she asked seductively, every syllable brushing against his senses.

He moaned, louder this time, each sound a testament to his surrender. “Just like that,” he mumbled against her neck, his world narrowing down to the sensations coursing through him. The pleasure built like a tidal wave, crashing against any remnants of restraint.

As he lay there, body quaking from the previous release, he blinked through the haze of bliss, staring up at the ceiling as though it held the answers he sought. Reality faded into oblivion; nothing mattered but her and the warmth that enveloped them. With deft fingers, he traced her thighs, slowing, savouring the contact, each caress igniting embers that flickered to life all over again.

When she leaned down to kiss him, it was a soft, sweet connection, yet filled with promise. His hand found her cheek, a magnetic pull that kept her close, and he ignited her senses as he explored her mouth, lingering in the moment and letting the world outside slip away.

“Go break up with her. I’ll be waiting,” she said, slipping from him and into the shower, her voice echoing in his mind. The door clicked shut, and just like that, a sense of urgency surged within him.

His heart raced as he gulped down a breath, excitement colliding with a stark terror that gripped him. He scrambled off the bed, gathering the clothes strewn across the floor like remnants of a life he was ready to leave behind. Each piece felt like a chain shackling him to a life he no longer wanted.

He dressed quickly, fingers trembling as his mind ran a mile a minute. In the mirror, he paused, staring at his reflection. A part of him whispered to retreat, to forget this moment and its consequences. But he couldn’t. Not now. He felt the weight of possibility, felt the shift in his heart, a call to step into the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. This was it. He would break free tonight; he would reclaim what was his. He opened the door, crossing the threshold into the unknown, determination igniting within him as he made his way toward the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

The door creaked open, revealing Odessa, draped in a robe that did little to shield the tension hanging between them. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion glinting in their depths.

“Drew, where the hell have you—”

He didn’t give her room to finish, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of hesitation as she searched his face, an eternity that seemed to stretch out as their shared history flickered in her gaze. Finally, she relented, the door swinging wider to let him in. He crossed the threshold, heart racing, palms clammy with dread.

The instant the door clicked shut behind him, he felt the weight of inevitability crashing down. “We should break up.” 

The words escaped him before he could process their gravity. Odessa stood frozen, her expression morphing from shock to a raw, jagged hurt that pierced him straight through. He swallowed hard. “We’re done. It’s over.”

Silence fell, heavy and thick. She remained motionless, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the depth of her pain reflected in every flicker of emotion that danced across her face. It hurt him to see her like this, and yet he steeled himself, convinced that breaking her heart was far better than the agony of continuing a lie.

He took a step toward her, battling the instinct to reach out for her, to pull her close. “There’s—there’s someone else.” The admission felt like gravel in his throat, grating and uncomfortable.

Odessa’s breath stuttered, eyes wide and searching. “I—”

His hesitation echoed in the space between them, a chasm of uncertainty. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he confessed, anguish lacing his words. “I’m sorry—I don’t want to hurt you. But I can’t keep pretending that things are okay when they’re not. I’ve been lying to myself for months, pretending that I still loved you in the same way, pretending that I didn’t miss someone else, pretending that I wasn’t completely miserable.”

The confession hung in the air, a heavy cloud suffocating and inevitable. “You’ve been so good to me, Odessa,” he continued, pushing through the tightness in his throat. “I really do love you. But not in the way I used to love you. Not in the way you deserve.”

His voice faltered, the guilt washing over him like a cold wave. “I-I just can’t keep going like this when we’re both wasting our time on something that’s not working out. I’m sorry.”

The silence stretched, agonising. He searched her face, desperate for any sign, any spark of the girl he once knew. “Say something, please,” he finally muttered, voice raw and pleading.

He stood there, paralyzed, eyes locked onto her, seeking an answer in her expression. Yet, all he found was a reflection of the pain he had inflicted—a mirror showing the fragments of trust shattering beneath the weight of his words.

Odessa blinked, the brave facade brimming with unsaid words crumbling under the tidal wave of devastation. He wished there were more to say, some soothing melody to mend the discord between them, but all he could do was wait, heart in his throat, engulfed by the fallout of his choices.

Drew stood at the threshold of a moment he could never take back, his heart thundering against his chest like a desperate prisoner seeking escape. As he took a deep breath, he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him. “I—” His mind raced, scrambling to formulate the words that would change everything. “I still want to be friends. I think you’re an amazing person, and I still want you in my life.”

Odessa's brow furrowed, her eyes searching for some trace of the affection that had once sparked between them. The warmth that had once enveloped their bond now felt cold and distant. “And I’m gonna be there for you in whatever way you need. I just—” He swallowed hard, anxiety clawing at his throat. “I need you to understand that I’m done lying to myself. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want someone else.”

The words spilled from him, raw and desperate. Guilt slithered through him like a snake, coiling tighter with every syllable. “I don’t have any right to ask you this, but I hope that, in time, you’ll forgive me for this. I just—I hope you’ll be okay. I still care about you; god, you have no idea how much this hurts me too.” He hesitated, agonising over his next words. “But I need to be honest with you. I can’t keep lying to both of us. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t still love—”

“—Y/N.” Odessa finished for him, her voice gentle but firm, like a quiet storm brewing on the horizon.

His eyes widened, caught off guard by the strength of her understanding. “You knew?” he whispered, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Her gaze held his, steady but pained. “Yeah. Not in the beginning. But these last few months, it’s been obvious. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Closing his eyes, Drew felt the crushing weight of her admission settle on his shoulders. Each word felt like another nail in the coffin of their relationship, sealing something precious inside. He balled his hands into fists, anger and frustration boiling within him for the agony he had inflicted on someone who had once been the light of his life. “I wasn’t trying to lead you on, I swear. I didn’t realize what was happening until recently.”

                               —TIMESKIP—

As he stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the echoes of their shared laughter reverberated in his mind, mocking the heartache of the moment. He could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces, each fragment a reminder of the love that had turned into a burden. Guilt gnawed at him insatiably, promising that this ache would linger long after he had left.

But even as he retreated into the shadows of his own making, Drew knew he would return to her. Each step felt heavier, like walking through molasses as he contemplated the full weight of his choice. He had shattered something beautiful, and now he must face the shards of their fractured reality, unsure if he could put together even a part of what they once had.

The remorse settled deep in his bones, a dark weight echoing with every beat of his heart. He steeled himself, knowing that this was merely the beginning of a new chapter forged from pain—one that would test their connection in ways he never anticipated. And yet, somehow he held onto a flicker of hope that, amid the shards of their past, they might reassemble into something new. 

Outside the room, Drew paused, anxiety coursing through his veins like wildfire. His hands trembled slightly as he took a moment to steady his racing heart, inhaling deeply before finally summoning the courage to push the door open.

The sight that welcomed him took his breath away.

Roses scattered across the bed, their rich red petals inviting him into a world that felt surreal. Candles flickered softly along the edges of the room, casting warm shadows that danced collectively within the intimate space. And there, standing amidst it all, was Y/N, a box of chocolates cradled in her hands, her eyes glinting with earnest emotion.

Drew’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt frozen, awash in a tumult of emotions—a piercing beauty in front of him, juxtaposed against the uncertainty that swirled in his mind. She looked stunning, radiating warmth and hope, yet the weight of guilt settled heavily on his shoulders.

“Y/N, what is—” he began, his voice trembling softly, laced with confusion and vulnerability.

“I know it must have been hard for you,” she interrupted gently, meeting his gaze. “And I’m sorry I pushed you to do it tonight. But I want to do this right with you. That means no more lies and secrets.”

Her sincerity punctured through the heaviness in the air, and he nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. As he took a shaky step forward, his eyes roamed over her—every detail, every curve—unravelling the beauty that had stolen his breath away. 

“Yeah, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper, resonating a mix of reverence and remorse. “No more lies or secrets.”

With a tender smile, she beckoned him closer. “Come here.” 

He stepped forward, taking her outstretched hand, feeling the warmth envelop him as she pulled him into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, grounding him, and he returned the gesture, his hands finding their place on her hips. The world beyond faded; all that mattered was the gentle connection between them.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed out, searching her eyes for understanding, his heart relentless in its frantic rhythm.

“I know,” she whispered softly, her face radiating both pain and compassion.

He ached to express every remorse, each regret getting lodged like stones in his throat. The ambiance of love mingled with melancholy weighed heavily upon him, and it struck him anew with every passing moment. His gaze fell to her lips, and without thinking, he reached out, cupping her cheek with trembling fingers, brushing his thumb tenderly over her soft skin.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked, vulnerability colouring his tone as he looked into her eyes, earnestness saturating every syllable. 

“In time,” she reassured him, laying bare her honesty, her voice almost a caress amidst their turmoil.

He felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly—a glimmer of hope igniting a small smile on his face. In this small reprieve, he moved closer, cupping her other cheek as he gently tilted her face up towards his. 

With hearts set aflame by emotions unspoken, he pressed his lips against hers, enveloped in warmth and hope. 

Y/N responded to the kiss, slow and tender, their souls meeting in an unspoken promise. With each brush of their lips, the burdens of their past weighed less—they felt lighter, almost dreamlike. Drew’s heart leapt, pounding in time with hers, each kiss a balm against the ache of guilt and uncertainty, transforming it into something sweet and intoxicating.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. The roses, the flickering candles, the shadows that danced around them—all of it faded into the background. All that remained was the indescribable feeling of being embraced by forgiveness and the fragile threads of a love that, despite its quarrels, was still so beautiful.

The moment his lips brushed against hers, the world faded into a hazy blur, leaving only the two of them in that intimate moment. He felt a rush of warmth and familiarity, her presence wrapping around him like a warm blanket on a cold night. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of longing and need that made his heart skip a beat. 

When he finally pulled back, the space between them crackled with unspoken words. His fingers lingered on her delicate cheek as he pressed another gentle kiss to her lips—soft, exploratory, like he was tasting a forbidden fruit. He could feel the sincerity in every touch, every breath. 

“I love you,” he muttered against her lips, the words spilling out before he could rein them in. The vulnerability in his voice hung in the air like a fragile ornament, bright and beautiful yet precarious. “I love you,” he repeated, desperate and yearning for her to mirror his devotion.

She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, her gaze searching, probing. He could see the flicker of contemplation behind those eyes, like she was weighing his admission against a heavy scale. The silence stretched between them, an anxious chasm filled with possibilities and doubts that threatened to consume him whole.

His heart raced as he held her gaze, the intensity in the depths of her eyes swirling with uncertainty. He craved her reassurance, her love; the longing felt like a fire in his chest, refusing to be doused. 

“Say it back,” he urged, a raw urgency in his voice. It was a plea, a wish hanging in the space where four simple words could bridge the segment of their hearts torn apart by insecurities and unspoken truths.

“In time,” she replied, her tone soft but resolute, the air between them thickening with what was left unsaid. 

Her answer was both a balm and a dagger to his heart. He swallowed down the impulse to press her further, the ache inside swelling painfully. Instead, he nodded, trying to mask the vulnerability that threatened to crack him open. “Okay, baby. Take your time.”

Before he could dissect the weight of her response, she covered his mouth with hers once more, her lips warm and inviting. He surrendered instantly, kissing her back with a fevered gentleness that spoke of everything he felt—passion, desperation, hope. The kiss deepened, slow and torturous, making his entire being ignite with longing. 

Every beat of his heart whispered of her; every brush of their lips sent electric currents dancing beneath his skin. He drowned in her taste, the way her breath mingled with his, the unrelenting pull drawing him closer. His whole body felt alive, ablaze with the need for more of her, greedy for each precious moment she was willing to share.

But within the depths of her mind lingered an unyielding truth. Little did he know, she had never planned on saying it back. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. A tangled web of fear and uncertainty gripped her—a fear of what those words could mean, of the weight they carried. The unromantic reality was that love came with burdens, and at that moment, she wasn’t ready to shoulder hers. 

As they kissed, the room spun around them, filled with soft candlelight and the scent of roses, but beneath it all lurked the heart-wrenching truth. One heart was open and willing, while the other remained shrouded in shadows, trapped in a gentle, yet unyielding silence.

The End.

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter five: as sick as it sounds i loved you first

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - at the annual hockey party you have two much needed, long time coming, conversations.

word count - 4.2k

a/n - okay okay guys we're on our way to HEALING. this is good. i don't know man. at least they're all finally starting to communicate a little bit. I mean it's mostly her but hey she is drunk word vomiting. they boys don't have much room to talk. also they're stupid men....so.

read the rest of the series here!

You didn’t want to work. Didn’t want to get out of bed. Didn’t want to do anything. Blankets wrapped around you, cacooning you in a soft straight jacket of warmth. You hadn’t moved in hours despite being awake. Nothing seemed to really matter lately. Your shades were drawn. Darkness shrouding your room. 

Empty. You felt empty. Your apartment a shallow husk of a home. 

You thought of your favorite sweater, still at Eris’ apartment. Your hairbrush and your good pair of sneakers. Plants that had previously sat on the shelves of your room, now resting on the window sill of Eris’ living room. The sleep you had grown accustomed to. Warm and comfortable. His bedsheets cool against your skin and the smell of his cologne drifting through your nose. His fingers combing through your hair. His kisses along your collarbone to wake you up. Wasted. By what? A game you had played along with for traditions sake. For what? 

Eris. The day you had met him. Your freshman year. Two years ago.  In his white cable knit sweater, fraying around the edges. Expensive things he let go into disarray as if he didn’t care. A carefully curated look of dishevelment. His smirk and his glittering eyes. The way you could never get yourself to talk to him. The way his swaggering confidence and sharp remarks scared you shitless. The way his eyes would sometimes meet yours across crowded coffee shops, quiet libraries, or crushingly packed parties. Like he could taste just how much you wanted to talk to him. The way you had fallen in love with him from a distance. 

The clock strikes one and you groan. Pulling your blanket over your head and rolling onto your stomach, before sliding out of your bed. Unwilling and unhappy. Fine. Work it is. You couldn’t call out. Rhys would kill you if Cassian was the only bartender. Nothing seemed to get done when Cassian was the only bartender. 

★ ★ ★

“So let me get this straight.” Cassian set several glasses on the counter top and angled his body towards you, “You think that avoiding both Az and Eris is the best way to go about things?” 

You don’t look at him. Shaking your head you continue washing the bar glasses, “I’m not avoiding Azriel. He isn’t talking to me….Just like last time.” 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to say something.” 

Cassian moved closer to you. Forcing your attention away from the dishes. You huff a breath of vague annoyance and turn to meet his eyes. 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

He didn’t have an answer for you. He shrugged and pulled the glass out of your hands and nudged you away from the sink. Choosing to take your task instead of answering you. You look past him towards the clock on the wall. 

“I have to go. My shift is over and Az will be here any second.” 

“See. Avoiding.” 

You don’t respond as you take off your apron and tuck it beneath the bar, grabbing your bag, and heading for the door. You’re almost in the clear. Almost. You run directly into Azriel as he slides through the doorway. Muttering an apology you try to push past him, but he grabs your arm. Finally you look up from his chest to those hazel eyes, boring into you, studying your every slight facial expression. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before any words manage to escape. 

“Have uh…have a good shift.” 

With that your out the door. The cold fall wind whipping through your hair and stinging your cheeks red. You stand outside the bar. Out of breath from the one brief interaction with Azriel. The look he gave you still seared into your sightline. You look around the street. Empty, the streetlights just flickering on as it hit dusk, leaves no longer that buttery yellow and orange but a burnt red. Fall in full flush. The crisp air felt like an assault on your lungs. 

A ding from your phone snapped you out of the trance the weather had bewitched upon you. Mor. 

Mor: Come to the party with me tonight. 

You sigh. That was the last thing you wanted to do. The hockey team’s halloween party. The last thing you wanted to do. Another ding interrupts your response. 

Mor: I know you don’t want to go. But if I have to get drunk by myself imagine what could happen to me. 

You chuckle at the vague hint towards a catastrophe. You type out a response, 

You: What could possibly happen to you Morrigan?

Mor: Uhm…I have to be sexy by myself. Which is a damn shame. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Gnawing the already bitten raw flesh. A nervous tick. One that had been rearing it’s ugly head in the last couple weeks. You nod to yourself. Steeling yourself. You could do this. 

You: Fine. 

She didn’t respond. You knew she’d be at your apartment to pick you up in a couple hours anyway. 

★ ★ ★

“Stop fidgeting with your dress. You look good.” Mor hissed at you as you pulled your skirt down for what had to be the fourth time in the last couple minutes. 

The party was loud, the lights were low, and you were already three shots in, and working on your third drink. It was way too strong. One of Mor’s famous concoctions. It seemed the only way to get through this night. Your eyes scanned the room for familiar faces. You knew Azriel would show up. You knew Eris would be there two. Neither of them ever missed this party. You had been constantly scanning the room for Cassian’s towering form, knowing that Az and Rhys wouldn’t be far behind him. Luckily for you they hadn’t shown yet. 

You reached up to rub your neck. There was still a bruise there from where Azriel had sunk his teeth. That light red mark a reminder of the horrible decision you had made. You hadn’t heard from Eris since he told you he was done. You supposed that maybe you should stop expecting to hear from him. But the silence still hurt. It stretched through your mind constantly. That lack of communication. The gravity of the quiet. 

Mor looked you up and down. Her eyes narrowing as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to face you fully, taking the cup out of your hands and pulling your arms lightly. 

“Loosen up. Come on. Let’s dance.” 

You hang your head and try to pull out of her grip, but when she wanted something she got it. So you begrudgingly let her drag you to the dance floor. Letting your body move with hers as the buzz of your drinks settled over you like a warm blanket. For a couple minutes, as the music washed over you, the bass pumping along with your heartbeat, you let yourself forget. About everything. 

But like all peaceful moments it didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, through the flashing neon lights, and the swarm of people, you caught sight of him. Well you caught sight of a flash of auburn hair and a flash of freckles across cream skin. Eris. His face half covered by a golden mask that looked awfully like a fox. His hand on the small of some girls back. The girl wasn’t someone you knew. Another accessory. He had gone back to being exactly what everyone thought he was. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

Your words to him swam through your ears. A violet wave of memory. Something sour climbed its way up your throat and into your mouth. You pulled out of Mor’s grasp and searched frantically for a bathroom. Spotting it across the room you made straight for the door. Pushing past everyone. The crowd suddenly suffocating. The people bumping into eachother, jumping, huddled together. The music reverberating through the room. All of it overwhelming. All of it too loud. Suffocating. 

Azriel had just walked into the party. Cassian and Rhysand on either side of him. The first thing he saw was you. Booking it to the bathroom. Your eyes frantic and your hand coming to cover your mouth. He made to follow you, knowing exactly what was about to happen. And then he saw it. Eris had clocked you the same second he had. Both men made eye contact. Standing a couple feet away from eachother. Neither moving. Neither following. 

Eris had seen you before you saw him. You looked damn good. He was absolutley sure that Mor had put you in that outfit. The skirt a little too short. Your hair curled the same way Mor’s always was. You skin gleaming from sweat. The heat of the room making your every inch sparkle a little under the lights. Your eyes closed as you danced. Body swaying in time with the beat of the music. You looked too good. His jaw clenched. He was making sure to get closer to the girl he had brought. Making sure to make it very clear that this was his date. He saw the way your expression shifted. Saw the way the panic in you seemd to surface. It was almost like he heard the saw words you did. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

He hated every second of it. Every second of get back. But if he had to play the part. For you. For your friends he would do it.  Play the asshole. Be whatever it is that they wanted him to be. Over you? Yeah sure he could play pretend for a night. It was nothing right? It was casual. No labels. Just company. 

Eris thought of when he first saw you. His sophomore year. Two years ago. In your leather jacket. Your hair cut short. Your quiet remarks to your friends that always seemed to make them laugh. The blush that would spread across your cheeks when he’d meet your gaze. When he’d notice the way you stared. The way you were always flanked by your guard dogs. Cassian and Azriel. Sometimes Morrigan and Amren. Always too accompanied to approach. Your coy smile and your heavy lashes. A sight for sore eyes at every suffocating party and overly heated coffee shop. An ever present distraction. The way he would laugh louder to see if it would draw your attention, and it always did. The way that he had finally gotten you alone at the start of term party this year. When years of passing interaction, casual hellos, and a warm smile had finally gotten him into your life. 

And then he saw Azriel. Saw how Az noticed you fleeing the dance floor just as he did. Noticed the way that his body was arched into your pursuit the same way his own was. Both feeling that incessant need to make sure you were okay. Their eyes met. Play the part. Let him have it. Be what they want you to be. He broke eye contact with Azriel and bent his head in submission. Go on. The motion seemed to say. You play your part and I’ll play mine. Eris leaned back down to the girl he had brought. Pretending to listen to whatever she was saying as his eyes trailed Azriel to the bathroom. Nodding, not paying attention as he followed shadowsinger across the floor and stood at the closed bathroom door, listening to the conversation held within. 

★ ★ ★

You didn’t want to throw up. You paced the small bathroom clutching your stomach. You were a bartender for fucks sake. If you couldn’t hold your alcohal then what was the point? You clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. Trying not to let anything come up. Slowly you sank to the ground. Letting your head fall against the wall behind you, your hand clutching the rim of the toilet as if in preparation for what was to come. 

The door creaked open and Azriel slid into the room. White t shirt, soaked with blood, clinging to his frame. His hair greased and parted down the middle. A plastic curved knife tucket into the belt loop of his jeans. Billy Loomis. Of course he had dressed up as Billy Loomis. You had watched scream together last year. You vaguely remembered telling him he’d look damn good dressed up like that, before Cassian snorted and said something about it somehow not being emo enough and god forbid Az wear anything but a black shirt. 

He crouched down next to you. Slowly pushing the hair out of your face and moving your body towards the toilet. Holding your hair in one hand and gently brushing a hand over your back as he whispered, 

“Just let it out.” 

You shook your head. Humming your disagreement. But the movement of your body, the small shift in your position, the shake of your head. It sent you over the edge and you lurched over the toilet. Wretching and coughing. Azriel softly shushed you, trying his best to be comforting, trying to be soothing. He had held your hair back while you vomited more times than he could remember. Freshman year was your black out drunk year and he remembered it well. 

Slowly you raised your head, blinking through watery eyes at Azriel. His concerned expression did nothing to calm the storm in your stomach. In your head. You sucked in a shuddering breath and he tilted his head. 

“Why do you only like me when I’m sad?” 

Your question was like a knife to his gut. A sharp, achingly cold, pain twisting it’s way through his organs. He slightly shook his head as if he didn’t understand. You sniffled, hiccuping slightly as you continued, 

“You dont…You only want me when you can’t have me or when I’m so fucking distraught that I can’t think straight.” 

Twisting. Pushing deeper. That knife. Like you wanted his insides to spill out and his blood to drench your hands. 

“Why?” 

A whisper. Small and pleading. He couldn’t think of something to say. His mind completely blank. You push his hands away from you. Off your shoulder and out of your hair. Scrambling away from his contact. 

“I left. That first time. Because I was so fucking scared that when you woke up you’d pretend it didn’t happen. That we’d go back to being friends and act like nothing had changed. I left because I was convinced it didn’t mean anything to you and I just didn’t want to hear you say it. I didn’t want to see the regret on your face if I was still there.” 

You never talked about it. A silent agreement to never talk about what happened two years ago. Your first comment on it brought a horrified look to his face that he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. But he tried. Tried to reknit his brows and close his mouth, 

“You’re drunk” 

You wave your hands and shake your head, “No. No. I didn’t want to just be a pity fuck that you didn’t care about. That you didn’t ever want to talk about. So I left and I hoped you’d prove me wrong and you never did. You stayed silent and we never fucking talked about it again. Because I was right.” 

“You weren’t” 

Azriel wanted to believe it. Wanted to be able to tell you that you were wrong. Wanted to tell you it was more than that. But that knife in his gut. It was all he could focus on. The sharp blade of reality. He wanted you when you were sad. Something to fix. Something he could try to piece back together. But he knew you were never something he could hold together. So he was there when you needed rebuilding. Your voice struck him again, 

“I was. I was right.” 

You rose to your feet now. Pushing past him as he stood to try and block you. Shoving your hands into his chest to get him to move out of your way. 

“You only like me when I’m sad.” 

You clutched the door handle and wiped your face hastily. Trying to rid yourself of any crying evidence. Not wanting to look a mess in front of the people you knew were lined up outside the bathroom door. 

“I had something. Someone. That wanted me when I was whole. When I was happy. Someone who made me happy.” 

He reached for you and you flinched away, “And I let you ruin it because for some reason I kept thinking. How could I deserve it?  And now look at me.” 

You motioned around the bathroom, at yourself. As if you could illustrate the hollow feeling in your gut. In your chest. 

Azriel muttered your name. The only thing he could think to say. You pressed your lips into a tight line and took a deep breath before leaving him to stand alone in the bathroom. 

★ ★ ★

You pushed your way through the sweltering room. The patio. The front steps. It didn’t matter. Outside. You just wanted to be outside. You bump into Rhys before you can get to the door. His hands reaching to clasp your shoulders. His face etched with worry. His eyes scanning your face and one hand smoothing your hair down. 

“You okay?” 

You could barely hear him over the din of the party. You nod quickly and push his worrying hands away, 

“You got a cigarette?” 

“Uh yeah?” 

He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a pack, handing you one, and slipping a lighter into your free hand as you tuck the cigarette behind you ear. Pushing past him you head for the door once more. Slipping out. Relishing in the way the cool october air pricked at your exposed skin. The way it burned your nostrils and finally provided a steady gust of air to your lungs. You walk to the curb, sitting down and fumbling with the lighter that Rhys had given you. 

Trying to light the cigarette proved difficult with the halloween wind and the light rain now dripping from the velvet sky. Someone tall moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the breeze and the drizzle. Finally allowing the lighter to spark to life. You muttered a thank you, taking a long drag, and finally looked up at the figure before you. 

Eris. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me” Smoke flowed past your lips as you said it. He offered a half hearted smile before crouching to sit on the curb next to you. Someone who made me happy. Your words to Azriel echoing in Eris’ ears as he sat. 

“I just wanted a smoke.” 

He pulled the cigarette from your fingers and took a drag. Holding eye contact with you like a challenge. 

“That girl finally bore the shit out of you?” You shouldn’t comment on it. On her. You had no right. You were never really together in the first place and after what you had done. Running to Azriel as soon as Eris said he was done with you. You shouldn’t comment on it. 

He shrugged and tried his best to blow the smoke away from you as he exhaled. He turned back towards you. His eyes wandering across your face, down your neck, across your shoulders, and then suddenly backtracking. Back to the crook of your neck. That ever fading bite mark. That last physical reminder. His eyes stayed there. The deep russet color now smoldering. 

“You finally done with Az? Or is that just getting started?” 

“There’s nothing to start. There never was. I…get that now.” 

He snorted and brought the cigarette back to his lips. You ran your tongue across your teeth. Trying to think of something to say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You did exactly what you were expected to.” He paused and you spoke again, 

“Is that what you’re doing? Bringing a date here?” 

He shrugged again. Play the part. Eyes still boring their way through your soul. That slight bit of connection. That eye contact. However frustrated, however angry, filling some sort of hole that he had left in you. You sigh deeply and stare at your shoes. Lightly tapping your heels together like maybe the motion would somehow bring you home. Straight back into his arms. But it wouldn’t. 

“You know. We don’t have to stay the way other people see us.” 

Something in his gaze softened. Like your words had cracked through his walls. Built some sort of window that could be opened into a real conversation. So you continued, 

“Something to be fixed or someone to hate. Angry. We don’t have to be angry.” 

“Are you angry?” His voice was cool. Like he didn’t want you to know that he really did wonder if you were angry with him. For pushing you out. For being unwilling to talk after one issue. 

“Not at you. At myself for…” You trailed off. Eyes going distant. Voice growing soft and much much warmer. “Do you remember when we first met? You were wearing that white sweater. The one with the holes in it.” 

He tried not to smile. He didn’t think you remembered that. Didn’t know if you even really bothered to remember anything about him before he had managed to convince you to let him into your life for real. He nodded, looking away from you. 

“You know…When you finally made a move on me a couple months ago. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Eris Vanserra, could have anyone he wants, heir to his fathers company, ever charming, hockey super star, total fucking asshole to everyone….was talking to me like he really cared what I had to say.” 

He still wasn’t looking at you. He had hung his head and closed his eyes. As if remembering that night himself. 

“I don’t know if you were going to say it in the locker room. It seemed like you were. But…” You slump your shoulders before standing up and brushing yourself off. Leaves falling from where they had stuck to your legs. He turned to look at you, his eyes searching, almost pleading. Like he was begging you not to say what you were about to say. 

“As sick as it sounds. I loved you first Eris. I was just waiting for you to notice and then when you did I was so fucking scared that you would do what everyone told me you would do, that you’d fuck me and then leave me like it was nothing.” 

Again it felt like you were going to throw up, “And you proved them wrong. And that was scarier. Because what if I didn’t deserve it.” 

He tried to say something, but you cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to forgive me. Maybe you shouldn’t. But I just…” 

You shake your head. Almost like you were giving up and started to walk away. You were going to toss one final thing over your shoulder. But you squared your shoulder and looked at him. He was standing now, like he wanted to follow you. Like he wanted to walk you home. Something he had grown so used to doing. But he didn’t budge as you said, 

“I feel empty without you.” 

A small smile spread across his face. A smile he had thrown at you when everything was okay. When you two were good. When you were happy. Mischievous. Fox like and sly. 

“Not like that. Not like in a sexual way. In the like I miss you way. Asshole.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips at that. At your slight teasing tone. You stare at each other for a moment before you say, serious now, 

“I miss you.” 

And with that you turned and started to walk down the street. You had to go home. You didn’t want to talk to any of your friends. Didn’t want to face Azriel again. Didn’t want to drink anymore or dance or act like everything was fine. 

He wanted to say it back. Every bone in his body screaming at him to say it back. To tell you that he missed you too. But he couldn’t. You were too far away. Too drunk. Too sad. 

But that smile he had given you. That teasing tone that you had held for even a split second. A small glimmer of hope. Maybe there was something to salvage there. 

Azriel leaned against the doorframe of the house. He had been watching the conversation you had with Eris. Not able to hear it, but monitoring from afar. He had followed you out. To try and talk. Try and apologize for everything. For how stupid he had been. He didn’t want to lose you…as a friend. Above all else as a friend. As family. That’s what you were supposed to be. You and everyone else in your friend group. Family. Your final words were all he had managed to hear. 

I miss you. 

Something you would have never said to him. Rightly so, Azriel supposed. Eris eventually turned away from your fleeting form and met Azriel’s eyes. Az wondered how long Eris had known he was skulking in the background. He offered Eris a small nod. A small concession. Eris nodded back. 

A brief. Silent. Understanding of sorts maybe. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@hextech-bros @redr0sewrites @tolietpaperwater

[yourmomsawh0r3]

truth or dare

pairing: tyler owen’s x childhood friend fem!

warning: 18+, NSFW

The music thumped through the house, each beat vibrating through the floorboards and reverberating off the walls. It was a typical college party red cups in hand, people spilling onto the porch, and a playlist that drowned out any attempt at a normal conversation. Y/N was leaning against the kitchen counter, chatting with friends and sipping her drink when she caught sight of Tyler Owens across the room. He had his usual casual grin on, leaning back in a chair with his arms draped lazily over the backrest, looking so comfortable it almost made her laugh.

She knew Tyler too well, he’d been a constant presence in her life for as long as she could remember. As her older brother’s best friend, he practically lived at their house growing up. They’d spent countless summers running around the backyard, Tyler chasing her with a water gun until she was drenched, and she’d get him back by hiding his favorite ball cap. They fought like siblings, pulled pranks on each other, and played as hard as they argued. It had always been simple: Tyler was part of her brother’s world, and by extension, hers.

But as they’d grown older, things had shifted. Y/N couldn’t pinpoint when she’d started noticing the way Tyler’s laugh made her chest feel warm, or how she found herself lingering in the kitchen just a little longer when he stopped by for dinner. And maybe, just maybe, she thought she’d caught him watching her the same way like he was seeing her for the first time.

Tyler, on the other hand, had spent years telling himself that Y/N could never see him as anything more than a friend. She was his best friend’s little sister the kid who used to steal the remote during movie nights and insist they watch Disney Channel. Even now, with her dressed up for a party, looking effortlessly gorgeous under the dim lights, he kept reminding himself that she was off-limits.

Tonight, though, something felt different. When her friends dragged her into a game of truth or dare in the living room, Tyler watched with an amused smirk, curious to see what would happen. He sat across from her, his hat tipped low, trying to keep things casual. But when Y/N’s turn came, and she picked dare, his stomach tightened. And then the dare came out: give someone in the room a lap dance. Tyler’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze flicked to Y/N, wondering if she’d back out.

But she didn’t. Instead, she glanced around the room, eyes landing squarely on him, and a slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. Tyler straightened up, suddenly feeling more heat in his cheeks than he’d like to admit. She crossed the circle, her steps deliberate, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“Didn’t think you’d actually pick me,” he murmured when she stopped in front of him, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the music.

Y/N leaned in closer, her lips barely an inch from his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “Better hold on, cowboy,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

And then, as “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls started playing through the speakers, Y/N turned her back to him, swaying her hips to the beat. Tyler swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the couch as she slowly lowered herself onto his lap. His hands instinctively settled on her waist, fingers pressing gently against the fabric of her dress as she rolled her hips in time with the music.

It took everything in him not to lose his cool. Y/N moved like she owned the moment, her confidence weaving through every sway of her body. She let her hands slide up his chest, and Tyler’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his ears. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the heat in his gaze was impossible to hide. It was like she’d turned everything he thought he knew upside down, and he was caught between wanting to hold back and wanting to pull her closer.

Y/N leaned in, bringing her lips dangerously close to his ear as she whispered, “How’s that for a dare?”

Tyler’s grip tightened on her waist, his voice coming out rough and low. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She pulled back just enough to see his face, catching the flush that had crept up his neck and the way his dark eyes seemed to burn into hers. For a second, she thought she caught a glimpse of something deeper something that said he might want more than just this moment. But before she could dwell on it, she rose to her feet, leaving Tyler sitting there, looking dazed and breathless.

The room around them erupted in cheers and whistles, but neither of them paid much attention. As Y/N walked back into the crowd, she felt a thrill run through her. She’d expected it to be just a bit of fun, a dare to make her friends laugh, but the way Tyler had looked at her like she was the only person in the room had set her pulse racing in a way she hadn’t expected.

Tyler, still recovering from the whirlwind of emotions, got up a moment later, his heart pounding as he wove through the party to find her. He caught up to her in the hallway, where the music was muffled and the lights dimmed. Grabbing her wrist gently, he turned her to face him, his voice softer than before. “What was that back there?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips, though there was a trace of uncertainty in his eyes.

Y/N looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips curved into a teasing smile. “Just a dare, Owens. Or did you want it to mean more?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. But as she stared up at him, Tyler let the wall he’d kept between them crack, just a little. He let his thumb brush over the back of her hand, the way he used to when she needed comfort as a kid. “Maybe next time, you won’t need a dare to choose me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s smile softened, her playful facade fading. For a moment, it felt like they were those kids again, chasing each other around the yard only now, there was a promise of something new, something that had been waiting to surface for years. She squeezed his hand gently, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into her skin, and she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for this moment all along.

Tyler’s gaze lingered on her as she slipped back into the party, a promise in her smile that made his heart flutter. He stood there in the hallway, feeling like he’d just stumbled across something he hadn’t even realized he’d been searching for. And as the sounds of the party swelled around him, he knew one thing for sure he wasn’t about to let her slip away without exploring what that meant.

As Y/N slipped back into the party, she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest, the lingering warmth of Tyler’s hand in hers. Her mind raced with the possibilities, the unspoken words between them in the hallway. The thrill of taking a chance had her heart beating faster than the music, and she couldn’t shake the image of the way Tyler had looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

She threw one last glance over her shoulder at him, catching the way he watched her disappear into the crowd. The nervous energy made her bold, and she took a breath, letting herself imagine what might come next. Y/N found her way back to him a few minutes later, weaving through a group of people until she reached his side again. This time, her smile was softer, more serious, as she leaned in close.

“Meet me upstairs in ten minutes,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only he could hear over the music. The words were a mix of a dare and a promise, her gaze steady on his. She watched the surprise flash in his eyes, followed by a slow smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, his heart racing at the implication. He searched her expression for any sign of teasing, but all he found was that same steady determination that had always driven him crazy. “You sure about this, Y/N?” he asked, wanting to be certain that she really wanted him there..that she wasn’t just caught up in the thrill of the night.

Her smile softened, and she reached out, letting her fingers graze his arm. “I’ve never been more sure, Owens.”

Y/N raced upstairs to her room, her heart pounding in her chest as she changed into a skimpy lingerie set a lacy black bra and matching thong, with sheer lace panels on the sides. She slipped on a silky white robe over the top and tied it loosely around her waist, letting it hang open just enough to be tempting. Tyler knocked on the door exactly minutes later, and Y/N took a deep breath before opening it.

He found her waiting at the end of the hallway, leaning against the doorframe of her room, her arms crossed casually over her chest. When she saw him approaching, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she stepped back to let him inside. The room was a far cry from the noisy chaos downstairs, and the sudden quiet made the air feel thicker between them.

Tyler closed the door softly behind him, leaning back against it as he took in the sight of her. She looked up at him with a mix of nerves and anticipation, her confidence from earlier tempered by the weight of what they were doing. “So… why’d you want me to meet you here?” he asked, his voice rough, but his smile gentle as he watched her closely.

Y/N took a step closer, her hands fidgeting at her sides before she reached out to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. She hesitated for a second, searching his face, and then let out a soft breath, as if she’d made a decision. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me downstairs,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I wanted to know if it was real… if you meant it.”

Tyler’s expression softened, and he lifted a hand to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her cheek. “I meant every second of it,” he murmured, his voice low. He tilted her chin up slightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “But you have to tell me if this is what you want, Y/N. I’m not playing around here.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes shining with something unspoken. “It’s what I want, Tyler. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. I just didn’t know if you… if you’d ever see me that way.”

Tyler’s breath caught at her words, and he felt something inside him shift, like he’d been handed the missing piece to a puzzle he didn’t even know he’d been trying to solve. He let out a soft laugh, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve seen you that way for years. I just thought you were too smart to ever feel the same.”

Y/N smiled, a small laugh escaping her, and she shook her head. “Guess I’m not as smart as you thought, huh?”

Tyler’s grin turned softer, more serious, as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Or maybe we’re both just a little slow on the uptake,” he whispered.

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was both gentle and full of the years they’d spent circling around each other. Tyler’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the unspoken feelings he’d been holding back into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads still pressed together. Y/N laughed softly, her hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “So… what now?” she asked, her voice a little shaky, but there was a warmth in her eyes that mirrored his own.

Tyler smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now? Now we see where this goes, Y/N. And I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”

She smiled at his words, letting herself believe that maybe this was the start of something real. And as she pulled him further into the room, closing the door behind them, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this had been worth the wait.

Tyler stood there, looking unbelievably handsome in a fitted buttondown shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his signature cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. His gaze raked over Y/N, taking in the sight of her barelycovered curves, and he let out a low, appreciative groan. Y/N untied her robe and let it slip off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Tyler's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, his gaze raking over every inch of exposed skin.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

Y/N stepped closer to him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "I'm glad you like it," she murmured, her lips curving into a seductive smile. "Because I wore it just for you."

Tyler's hands settled on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pulled her flush against him.

Tyler laid Y/N onto the bed, his eyes blazing with lust. He trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at her sensitive skin. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples through the lacy bra.

Y/N moaned wantonly, arching into his touch. "Please, Tyler," she whimpered. "I need more."

Grinning wickedly, Tyler slid down her body, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her thong. He slowly pulled it down her legs, his breath hot against her dripping pussy. "So wet for me already," he growled.

Without warning, he buried his face between her thighs, licking a long stripe up her slit. Y/N cried out in pleasure as he sucked on her clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Two thick fingers pushed into her tight cunt, curling to hit that perfect spot.

"Oh fuck, Tyler!" Y/N screamed, grinding against his face. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Tyler doubled his efforts, fucking her with his fingers while his tongue lashed at her clit. Y/N's thighs clamped around his head as she came hard, gushing all over his face. Tyler lapped up every drop of Y/N's release, savoring her sweet taste. He crawled back up her body, kissing her deeply so she could taste herself on his tongue.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her hands fisting in Tyler's hair. She could feel his hard cock pressing insistently against her thigh, and she reached down to stroke it through his jeans. Tyler groaned into her mouth, his hips bucking into her touch.

"Fuck, Y/N," he panted. "I need to be inside you."

In one swift motion, he ripped open his jeans, freeing his throbbing erection. Y/N wrapped her hand around it, stroking the thick shaft as Tyler shuddered above her. "Please, Tyler," she begged. "I need you cock”

Y/N pushed Tyler back onto the bed, a wicked grin on her face. She straddled his hips, her wet pussy hovering just above his throbbing cock. Tyler's hands gripped her waist, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of her perfect tits bouncing above him.

"You ready for the ride of your life, cowboy?" Y/N purred, grinding her slick folds against his shaft.

Tyler groaned, his hips bucking up. "Fuck yes, baby. Show me what you've got."

With a sultry smile, Y/N sank down onto his thick cock, taking him in inch by glorious inch. They both moaned as she bottomed out, her tight walls clenching around him.

"Oh god, Ty!," Y/N gasped. "You fill me up so fucking good."

She started to move, rolling her hips in slow, sensual circles. Tyler's fingers dug into her flesh as she picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his shaft. Her tits jiggled with each movement, and Tyler couldn't resist reaching up to squeeze them.

Fuck, honey! You're so tight and wet, I can't get enough of you. Ride my cock harder, baby. Take what you need.

Y/N moaned, slamming her hips down onto Tyler's shaft. Her nails raked down his chest as she rode him with wild abandon, chasing her pleasure. "Yes, Just like that. Don't stop!"

Tyler gripped her ass, guiding her movements as she bounced on top of him. The bed creaked and groaned under their frantic coupling, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. Sweat dripped down their bodies, skin slapping against skin as they fucked with reckless passion.

"That's it, sugar," Tyler growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "Milk my cock. I'm gonna fill this sweet pussy up."

"Yes, Tyler! Give it to me. I want to feel your hot cum inside me."

"Do it, Tyler!" Y/N cried out, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode him with wild abandon. "Cum inside me" Tyler groaned, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass as he thrust up into her relentlessly. With one final, powerful surge of his hips, he buried himself deep inside her fluttering walls, his shaft pulsing as he erupted. "Fuck, baby!" he roared, spurting his hot seed deep into her hungry cunt. Y/N screamed his name as her own climax crashed over her, her pussy clenching and unclenching around Tyler's spurting cock as he filled her to the brim with his release. They collapsed together in a sweaty, trembling heap, both gasping for air as the aftershocks of their orgasms rolled through them.

Tyler and Y/N lay tangled together, panting heavily as they came down from their orgasmic high. Y/N nuzzled into Tyler's neck, inhaling his musky scent mixed with sweat and sex. Tyler's fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, sending shivers down her spine.

"Damn, cowboy," Y/N purred, her voice rough from screaming. "I never knew you had it in you."

Tyler chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'. But I'm more than happy to show you."

His hand slid down to cup her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Y/N gasped, feeling his cock twitch against her thigh. "Already ready for round two?" she teased, grinding against him.

Tyler growled, flipping them over so he was on top. "Baby, I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

[etherealstar-writes]

ORDINARY LIFE | ARSENAL WFC X TEEN AVENGER OC | PT 1

pairings: arsenal women x teen avenger oc (platonic)

summary: in which a sixteen year old just wants to live an ordinary life away from all the superheroing madness and play football for her club, trying to hide her past as a former teen avenger from all her teammates.

part one: beginnings

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

Ameris Adarlan knew her life was anything but ordinary. She had grown up amidst the chaos of heroes and villains, her parents' affiliation with SHIELD and their close friendship with Tony Stark shaping her childhood in ways she never imagined.

From a young age, Ameris had been thrust into a world of secrets and danger, her parents' untimely demise serving as a stark reminder of the perils that came with their line of work. A planned fatal car accident that claimed their lives had left her ten year old self scarred, both emotionally and physically, the jagged line running across her left eyebrow a constant reminder of the tragedy that had torn her family apart.

Tony Stark, her father's closest friend, had then taken her under his wing, and Ameris grew determined to avenge her parents’ deaths, joining the Avengers at the young age of thirteen, intent on aiding them however she could.

Ameris didn’t have any powers that made her outshine like most of the other Avengers, choosing to remain in the shadows of the spotlight. But she did possess a special talent, the ability to predict the movement of others or objects by reading their body language and initial movement. 

While everyone around her told her that she was an Avenger prodigy, that she was gifted with this talent, and made her feel like that she should consider herself lucky because of this ability, no one knew how hard she worked on this skill and trained to be where she was at, spending years trying to read every individual’s mannerisms and body language.

But as the years passed, with each mission assigned to her remaining victorious, came the daunting realisation that their heroism came at a cost. A cost that Ameris couldn't bear to pay like her parents had.

So, at the age of sixteen, she had finally made the decision to leave it all behind. With a heavy heart and a determined spirit, she bid farewell to the Avengers and the life she had once known, hoping to seek solace in the simplicity of a world untouched by chaos and strife.

It was a decision born out of necessity and self-preservation, a choice to reclaim the appearance of a normal life she had been deprived of for so long. With London beckoning her with open arms, Ameris decided to move there and pursue a career in football, a passion she had shared keenly with her father, but hadn’t had the strength to pursue since his death.

Not until now.

And so here she stood, outside the doors of Arsenal Football Club, feeling a surge of anticipation course through her veins. The crisp London air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, the cool breeze blowing her dark hair locks back.

She steeled herself for the new chapter that awaited her, ready to leave behind the shadows of her past, and entered inside. Making her way to the reception area, she greeted the staff with a warm smile, her nerves masked behind a facade of confidence.

"Hi there, I'm Ameris Adarlan," she said, offering a smile to the receptionist. "I'm a new signing."

"Ah, yes, Miss. Adarlan. Welcome to Arsenal,” The receptionist greeted her with a warm smile, her fingers flying across the keyboard before she slid a clipboard over to her to sign some papers. “I'm afraid the captain and vice-captain are currently tied up with the other new signings, but they'll be with you shortly."

Ameris shrugged nonchalantly. "No worries. I can wait."

The receptionist handed her a badge with her name imprinted on it, a small gesture that made Ameris feel oddly official. 

"Feel free to roam around the facility in the meantime," the receptionist told her.

Ameris nodded her thanks and set off to explore, her curiosity piqued by the prospect of getting to know her new surroundings. She passed the hallways with photos of the team framed each year, and couldn’t help but stop for a moment in front of the trophies’ display to admire it.

“Hey there!” 

Ameris shifted her gaze to the person that gained her attention, watching the brown-haired woman make her way towards her with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, dressed in the Arsenal training kit. 

“Hi,” Ameris greeted her with a sincere smile.

“I was excited when we were informed that we were getting a teenager signing, and an adorable kid, no less.” Ameris chuckled while the woman extended her hand politely. 

"I'm Steph, by the way. Welcome to Arsenal." Of course she knew who she was. She’d done her research on all of them. 

“Thank you. And I’m Ameris,” she replied back as shook her hand firmly, noting the genuine warmth in Steph's demeanour. “But I think you already knew that.”

“You’re right about that.” Steph grinned before pointing at Ameris’ badge that hung around her neck. “And I read your name on that.” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Has Kim or Leah gotten to show you around yet?”

Ameris shook her head. “Not yet, no. They were still busy with the other signings.”

"Well, I’ve got nothing better to do, so how about I show you around? Consider it a little welcome gift from one teammate to another," Steph offered.

"Sure." Ameris smiled.

She fell into step beside Steph as they began their impromptu tour of the club. 

As they made their way through the training facilities and locker rooms, they came across Katie McCabe and Beth Mead, two of Ameris' new teammates.

"Hey there, newbie!" Beth greeted Ameris with a friendly grin. "I'm Beth, and this here is Katie."

"Hi," Ameris greeted them warmly, returning their smiles. "Nice to meet you both. I'm Ameris."

Katie's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she studied Ameris with interest. "So, what brings you to Arsenal, Ameris? You must be pretty talented to get signed at such a young age."

Ameris chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her neck in a modest manner. "I guess you could say I've had some practice. But honestly, I just love the game. Football has always been a passion of mine."

Katie nodded in understanding. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place. Arsenal is like a big chaotic family, and we're thrilled to have you join us."

With a smile of gratitude, Ameris felt a sense of warmth wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, she could find the ordinary life here she had always longed for.

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

hey everyone! i love reading comments and they really motivate me to continue writing so pls feel free to comment your thoughts <33

[liillyliilly]

Her Laughter

tsukishima kei x reader words; 9093 synopsis; They had been friends for too long. She knew too much. He knew too little.

Tsukishima was used to the attention he got from girls. It came with having an aura that practically screamed unattainable. It lured in confident women that thought they could break down his façade of seriousness. So, if he was feeling up to it, he would mess with them. Toy with their feelings before dropping them and picking up a new little game to play.

This annoyed the living hell out of y/n. Which pushed Tsukishima to continue what he did. It seemed like he got a nice rise out of seeing how pissed he could make y/n. Seeing as they were seatmates, it felt as if she was constantly trapped and suffocated by every new girl that tried to win his affections.

The pair even had to spend a large portion of their time with each other outside of school. Having her mom being extremely close friends with Mrs. Tsukishima sure messed up a large portion of the girl’s life. Yet, there was one Tsukishima family member that actually seemed to be a normal person. Akiteru. Akiteru was probably the longest crush that y/n had ever had. From the beginning of her first year at Karasuno High School, which was Akiteru’s third year, to currently as a third year practically infatuated with a university second year. But for some reason, her crush felt hollow. But she didn’t mind it so long as she still was happy when Akiteru was nice to her.

Tsukishima wasn’t oblivious to the way y/n acted around his brother, not by any means. If anything, Tsukishima was always aware of how y/n acted and felt. Whether she was happy, sad, or yes, even trying to flirt with his own brother.

“Wow! That’s so cool! But that sounds like an awful lot of work.” Y/n currently was resting her head in her hands as she pressed her elbows against the kitchen counter top, watching Akiteru making some stovetop ramen for dinner.

“No rest for the wicked huh?” Akiteru stirred the pot of noodles. His joking words causing y/n to laugh. Tsukishima was in a mood, sitting on the couch scrolling through the movie catalog. His ears finely tuned to the conversation happening nearly seven feet away from him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, biting down any words that threatened to bubble up from his throat.

He was the one that wanted to make y/n laugh like that, like she was lovesick and drunk on her own delight. He had managed to do that three times.

The first time was a long time ago, when they were both around eight years old.

“Kei, Kei, Kei, Ke-” Y/n was poking Tsukishima in the leg with a stick that she had found on the hike their families currently were walking on. The parents and Akiteru were walking far behind the two young kids, talking about, ‘grown up stuff’.

“What!?” He pulled off his headphones, and made a big show of turning off the music on his hand-me-down iPod from Akiteru. He actually didn’t have any music playing, and was using his headphones as a way to listen to y/n ramble about the pets she wanted to own when she got older.

“I was just wondering if you were planning on adopting a dinosaur when you get older.” Y/n kicked a rock and it fell down the cliff, bumping into a few trees, causing y/n to shudder as she imagined what would happen if she fell down from this height.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Tsukishima folded his arms, and turned his chin up.

“But aren’t all the dinosaurs’ dead?” Y/n dropped her stick, and opted for poking him in the chest with her pointer finger.

“When I become an archeologist, I’ll have Akiteru build me a machine to revive its bones. Then I’ll adopt it. Simple as that, stupid.”

“Stupid is a bad word Kei.”

“I don’t care.” Tsukishima had lightly pushed y/n on her shoulder. When she let out a scream, he knew that he messed shit up. He was sure that if he had known the word shit as an eight-year-old, he would have used it in this situation.

In one fluid motion, Tsukishima quickly grasped onto y/n’s hand and pulled her away from the edge and into his chest. When Y/n had started laughing, that same laugh that Tsukishima swore followed him in his dreams, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why are you laughing? You could have died y/n!” Tsukishima was still holding y/n close to him. He knew that she could probably hear his beating heart that was threatening to break his ribcage open.

“I’m laughing because you care about me Kei.” Y/n rubbed his head, effectively messing up his hair and messing up his composure. Tsukishima’s ears were red, and he was embarrassed but he was still refusing to let go of y/n, afraid that if he stopped hugging her, she would actually fall off of the cliff. And that he would lose her. As an eight-year-old, he silently promised himself that he would never, ever, lose her.

Akiteru set down the three bowls of ramen on the coffee table. He settled in on the left side of the couch. Tsukishima moved over from the right side so that he was in the middle, forcing y/n to sit on the right side, closer to him and away from Akiteru. Tsukishima prayed that his shuffling of the seating arrangement wasn’t scrutinized. When y/n opened her mouth, Tsukishima explained.

“You got the middle seat last week. It’s the best seat to watch movies. It's my turn.” Tsukishima laid back against the couch. Chewing on a bite of the noodles. Even though he was trying to outdo his brother for y/n’s attention, Tsukishima admitted that his brother made some killer ramen.

Y/n rolled her eyes and sipped on the noodle broth. When Tsukishima did the same his glasses fogged up from the heat that radiated from the soup. Akiteru's phone beeped, and when he opened and read the text he grimaced and let out a grumble.

“Sorry, I’ll have to reschedule movie night. Something came up at work. Manager needs me to cover for a flaky employee.” When Y/n shrugged, and stood up, Akiteru’s words rushed out. “No! I mean, no, L/n you should just stay. I mean, I know you were waiting all week to watch this movie, I would just hate to prolong your waiting.”

“No, it’s fine I can wait.” Y/n smiles as she reaches for her bag.

“I insist. Please, I need someone to watch Kei. I’m asking you, l/n, to please help me out here and just watch the movie.” Akiteru took her bag away and ran into the kitchen, setting the bag above the cabinets. Far from y/n’s reach. Only Tsukishima or Akiteru could reach up there. Y/n gasped and hit Akiteru in his arm.

“Akiteru!”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Gotta go! Bye Kei! Have a goodnight!” Akiteru rushed out of the door and shut it with a light slam.

“Honestly, L/n, Akiteru paid for the movie. Just swallow your pride and watch it with me.” Tsukishima explained from his spot.

“Fine. I just have to use the bathroom real quick, and then we can watch it.” Y/n’s feet lightly pattered against the floor. Tsukishima let out a breath, putting a hand to his chest, sliding down the couch to slump in exhaustion. His phone buzzed, and as he read the message, he truly didn’t know if he wanted to punch or hug his brother.

Have fun, relax, and be polite to L/n. I think it's weird how Karasuno’s biggest playboy is a complete idiot when it comes to real feelings :0

The second time Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fourteen.

Y/n was sitting at the white clothed table, wearing the pink lacy dress her parents had picked out for her to wear at the wedding. They picked out pink lace because it matched with the bowtie Tsukishima’s parents had bought him. The wedding was for Y/n’s parents' cousin-in-law’s step-sibling's aunt. Playing with the fabric of his tie, Tsukishima continuously tried peaking glances at y/n. Her hair was done in a way that made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Her features looked unamused and bored, she seemed to be passing the time by seeing how slowly she could drink her glass of cranberry juice.

After the ceremony, and after the first dance, was when the boredom hit Tsukishima as well. Tsukishima had given up on trying to be discreet and decided to keep staring at y/n. Tsukishima followed her eyeline, to realize she was staring at the glass of champagne the newly wed wife was holding.

At this point in his life, Tsukishima had very poor impulse control. And his hormones were raging, or at least that’s what his mom said to him when he told her that he felt all fuzzy whenever Y/n hung out with him. Thinking, that if he managed to steal a bottle and share it with Y/n, then she would finally admit to having a crush on him, or something.

“Psst. Hey, Y/n.” Tsukishima kicked her chair lightly.

“What do you need Tsukki?” When Y/n turned around in her chair and faced him, he swallowed roughly and grabbed her hand pulling her up and into the chapel.

“Tsukki? What are you doing?” Tsukishima sat down in one of the pews, Y/n sitting down right next to him.

“Waiting for you to thank me profusely.” Tsukishima gave a smirk and wiggled his head in a teasing manner.

“Why would I be than-” Tsukishima pulled out the bottle of red wine he managed to snag from the kitchens. Y/n jaw dropped as she held the cold bottle in her hands.

“How did you...” She trailed off.

“I have my ways.” He shrugged as he snagged the bottle away and twisted the cap off. Taking a swig from the bottle, he puckered his lips together at the tart taste. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The drink made his mouth feel grainy.

“It can't be that bad, you big baby.” Y/n took it from him and took an equally large drink. When she coughed and hit her chest a few times, Tsukishima laughed, holding his stomach from how it was constricting due to his laughing.

They threw away the bottle by dumping the rest of the alcohol down the sink of the church bathroom. As they sat with their backs to the door, the dizziness of being drunk for the first time hit them both with a heavy wave.

“Y/n. I reaaalllyyy like you. I like you soooo much. It’s like my heart can’t even handle it.” He hiccupped. He rested his head in her lap, y/n twirled his blonde locks.

“Is that so?”

“Yuppers.”

Y/n laughed, slowly and quietly at first. Growing into a loud rumble that caused Tsukishima to feel like he could die right then and feel totally complete.

“Kei, we are so getting grounded.” Y/n rubbed her eyes, before her hand retreated back into his hair.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t called me Kei since we were twelve and it's really hurting my feelings.” Tsukishima admitted.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll try calling you Kei more then.”

She didn’t even try to call him Kei. From age fourteen to now, it was only Tsukishima or in rare cases of friendly compassion a short and sweet Tsukki. When Tsukishima admitted that it hurt his feelings, he was being honest, and it still rang true.

Tsukishima was staring at the TV much harder than needed. He tried not to pay attention to all the little things Y/n was doing. The way she was breathing, and how it would hitch when the movie got intense, or how it would come out in a longing sigh during the romantic parts. The way she shifted her feet under her and how the couch would dip and move from her toes moving around in her socks. When the credits started to roll, y/n was snoring quietly, resting her head on the armchair hugging herself loosely.

Tsukishima wanted to kiss her.

Wanted to feel the way her soft looking lips would feel against his probably slightly chapped ones. He wanted her to put both of her hands on his head curling her fingers through his hair. Wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go like when he was eight and had fallen in love. Wanted to giggle and be stupid with her like when they were fourteen and he admitted his feelings for her but she didn’t even notice because she was so far gone from the wine. Wanted to be close to her. Wanted to stop entertaining all the girls that filtered through his life like her current favorite song that changed every day.

Tsukishima wanted to stop being so dry witted and mean to her in class. He wanted to stop her from looking at him with her sad eyes when she tried comforting the last girl he had been talking to and then ghosted. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry. He was tired, so tired of having to make her annoyed at him, but that was the only way to get her attention. He wanted her attention like he needed to breathe. Like she needed to be kind to others. Like Akiteru needed to be supportive and an example. Like everyone on his volleyball team needed to always try their best during games.

The third time that Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fifteen.

Class was slow. The windows were clouded and the corners fogged up every time someone exhaled. Outside, heavy rain was falling. Most kids had decided to skip school for the day in favor of staying comfortable in their pajamas' watching cartoons or doing homework for other missed classes. Yamaguchi was at home, he had texted Tsukishima saying that he should just come hang out with him, but Tsukishima had already received a text from his mom that he needed to walk home with Y/n because her family hadn’t bought any umbrellas and she would need to walk home with him.

Class was over and Y/n was frowning. The day was dreary because she couldn’t just sit outside and feel alive with the rain falling down her face. She loved the rain, and being stuck inside on such a perfect day for her was getting on her nerves. But also, the fact that she had to walk home with Tsukishima, who had been a real pain in the ass all week with his current girl. Tsukishima leaned against the lockers by the entrance as Y/n switched out of her school shoes into her normal flats.

“We’re gonna be late if you keep taking forever.”

“Late for what?”

“Late for me to care about you getting home dry any longer.” Tsukishima opened the umbrella and started making his way outside.

“Tsukishima!” Y/n groaned as she rushed to close her locker and match pace with the giant.

“Geez. You could have at the very least waited a minute longer.” She tugged her hood over her head.

Tsukishima stayed silent for most of the walk. When Y/n finally broke.

“If you aren't going to even try and make conversation, then just go ahead. I like the rain anyway.” Y/n folded her arms and huffed. She stopped walking and stood still. Tsukishima walked a bit further, just enough for Y/n to not be under the umbrella. When he noticed that she wasn’t next to his side, he stopped and went back for her, holding the umbrella over both of them as he faced her.

“I don’t have time for a Y/n tantrum. Let’s go.” He flatlined.

“And I don’t have time for a brooding Tsukishima.” Tsukishima felt his heartstrings pulling him closer to her. But he kept his distance.

“What’s up?”

“What?” Y/n shook her head, and tilted it at an angle that made Tsukishima want to put his hand on her cheek and run his thumb across her cheek.

“I'm not brooding right now. I’m talking to you right now. So, let's try again. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just wondering why, a close family friend of mine is acting like an asshole to all the girl’s in our grade.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets. Bouncing back and forth on the heels of her feet.

Tsukishima held back a smirk. She was playing a game with him. “Maybe they're just acting like that because it’s a nice way to pass the time?”

“I don’t think it's that.” She took a step forward.

“Oh, its most likely that.” He took a step forward. He could see the white mist of her exhaled breath. He could see the slight repressed intrigue and curiosity swirl in her eyes. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. He wanted to grab her hand and press it against his chest and yell at her, telling her that she was the one making his head spin and making his knees feel like they would give out any second because they felt like jelly.

“Wanna know another way to pass the time?” She reached out for his hand. He froze, closing his eyes. Her next words were whispered close to his ear. “Having you chase me in the rain.”

She ripped the umbrella from his hand and ran. It took him a second to catch on. But when he did, he bolted forward. When she looked back, she screamed because he was closer than expected. And then she started laughing. The same laugh he had been longing to hear for over a year since the wine incident.

Suddenly, everything they were angry with each other disappeared. Y/n stopped thinking about how much of a dick he was to people. Tsukishima stopped thinking about how much of a scaredy-cat he was for not just being kind to Y/n. They were just two teenagers running in the rain. Hair getting soaked and sticking to their faces. Feet slipping slightly against the wet concrete. The rain hitting the ground.

They were just two kids in love with life.

They never talked about that day. They just knew it existed in their memories of each other, being stored in the filing cabinets of their life.

As Y/n was snuggled up against the couch, Tsukishima wanted to just hold her. The TV screen had gone black. The only light was the dim hanging light in the middle of the kitchen. And for the first time in a while, Tsukishima was okay with the amount of attention he got from Y/n. He didn’t want any more or any less. He was just glad that he had her in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would finally be able to tell her that he no longer liked her. But he loved her.

Movie night still seemed to be the only thing on Tsukishima’s mind. Various scenarios of different endings to the scene played in his mind. His favorite being the one where y/n took the first move and admitted that her crush on Akiteru was just a front so that Tsukishima didn’t realize that she liked him back. Sadly, her crush was still very much real, and very much an annoyance to Tsukishima. Which resulted in him being extra responsive to the countless girls who approached him to admit their affections.

He liked to mess around with the idea that they were y/n. He would try to find a similar trait, a similar physical feature, a similar anything to y/n. So that even for just a minute, he could have her attention. Whenever Yamaguchi was absent to class, Tsukishima would just sit in his own seat and wear his headphones. One hand would be toying with the wires connected to either speaker, while his other hand would rest on the very edge of his desk.

It was a smart move on his part. Because then, he could listen to the conversations y/n had with her classmates and yet seem like he was completely ignorant to anything happening on her side of the connected desks. He felt guilty about eavesdropping as often as he did, but he tried to reason his actions with empty excuses.

“L/n, you always talk about how annoying Tsukishima is, so why don’t you just ask our teacher to just move your seat?” Some girl who had previously confessed to Tsukishima in private complained to y/n. Tsukishima could tell that y/n was uncomfortable, when the girl had come up to her and started ranting y/n only let out forced laughs and dry responses.

“Well, I guess you could say that even though everything he does makes him seem like a huge jerk, he is still my friend.” Y/n spoke. Now, in any other case Tsukishima would have felt like he was being stabbed in his heart when y/n called him her friend. But in this situation, he felt relieved. She was defending him, even if it seemed like a half-assed response to the girl’s thinly veiled insult.

That was what played in his mind during volleyball practice.

“Tsukki! Hey! Tsukki!” Yamaguchi made his way to Tsukishima, a small blue towel on the back of his neck to catch the sweat from all the physical activity. Yamaguchi pulled his hair out of the small ponytail, and ran his hand through it.

“Yes?” Tsukishima started to unwrap the bandages from his fingers, dropping the fabric into his duffel bag that laid below.

“You’re close with that L/n girl, right?” Tsukishima felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

“Our parents are close, so by association, I guess we’re fairly close.”

Tsukishima wanted to go on a rant about how long he had been invested in his friendship with her. How she always managed to make his day even when they were fighting. How she would spend countless hours wasting her time watching TV on his family’s couch while he sat in his bedroom listening to her scream at the television shows for having incompetent characters. How she had tried to braid his hair once before a match but realized his hair was too short and then settled for putting it into a ponytail that ended up looking like an antenna on top of his head, when she pointed it out, she howled like a hyena. He wanted to say all of those things and more, but didn’t.

“Okay cool, because, well Yachi was wondering if she could go along with us to next month’s training camp. Yachi doesn’t want to be the only girl on the bus, and would like L/n to come along because she thinks she could handle the manager responsibilities well. And she wouldn’t admit it, but I'm sure Yachi would like to be L/n’s friend but is too scared to ask her.” Yamaguchi took a deep breath from his long explanation.

“I can ask.”

“Amazing. Cool, thanks so much Tsukki!” Yamaguchi waved goodbye as Tsukishima pulled his duffel bag onto his shoulder and made his way from practice back home.

At home, Tsukishima was greeted with two very different sights.

Y/n sitting in the kitchen, spinning around on the chair next to the counter. She was chewing on her pen, looking at a packet opened up to the middle. She had changed out of her school uniform in favor of some pajamas. It was one of Tsukishima’s old t-shirts that he had gifted to her as a gag gift for some Christmas that had gone as fast as it had come. She was wearing a pair of Akiteru’s old volleyball practice shorts, the ones that had holes on the thighs from all the times Akiteru had practiced receiving but ended up sliding across the gym floor. This was a pleasant sight, causing his dopamine levels to rise exponentially.

The second sight was Akiteru with a girl sitting in his lap. She was talking into his ear and playing with the hair on his nape. Akiteru looked, for some reason, really happy that this girl was there with him. Then Tsukishima thought about it for a moment, and realized that he would probably feel and look just as happy as Akiteru if it was Y/n sitting in his lap basking in his presence. This was an enviable sight, he wanted to be Akiteru and he wanted Y/n to be the girl. He had several questions as to why Y/n was at the Tsukishima household, and why Akiteru was with some strange girl.

“Oh hey, Tsukishima.” Y/n whispered. Waving him over. This was odd only in the way that it felt like Tsukishima was out of place. Like a spoon with a bunch of forks. Like a glass of apple juice amongst water. Like a boy with no idea what was happening in his own house.

“Wanna make a guess about whose parents decided it would be a good idea to take a two month-long trip? I’ll give you a big clue. The parents of the two blonde boys and the one h/c haired girl.”

“What...” Tsukishima, was for once, at a loss for a sarcastic comeback.

“Yup. My parents packed all my stuff up and left it in your guest room, they freaking took my house key and locked me out of my own house. Something about, ‘Letting you stay home alone when there are two perfectly great boys to make sure you stay out of trouble right there.’ It’s bullshit. But hey, I guess we both have to deal with our crazy parents.” Y/n’s mouth kept moving, but Tsukishima blocked her words out. He had to be going insane. He had to be going insane. This was not something that happened in real life.

Tsukishima dropped his duffel bag on the floor and went upstairs. Shutting his door with a slight slam. He sat on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark dinosaurs that y/n had bought him for his eleventh birthday still stuck on. He wanted to take them off but just couldn’t do that because it would mean losing a part of y/n that lived in his room. When his phone buzzed, it was like breaking out of a trance.

Look Kei, I dont want to be in this situation either, but pls just be around me bc I dont think I can handle the weird smacking sounds coming from Akiteru and his girlfriend.

Did she mean to type Kei instead of Tsukishima? Was it a fluke? Before he had time to respond, his door opened and shut quickly.

“Geez, I thought I was going to be suffocated by the smell of their cologne and perfume. And why is your brother such a loud kisser? Does he have a vendetta against romance?” She moved around in his room like she had it memorized. Sitting down in his desk chair and resting her elbows on her knees. Her legs dangled slightly seeing as his chair was set to the tallest setting.

When Tsukishima finally made eye contact, he noticed the tears that had begun to create a sheen over her eyes. He looked away quickly and spoke.

“I assume he does have a vendetta against romance.” Y/n forced out a curt laugh. The tension in Tsukishima’s room was somewhat thick.

There were three times that Y/n had been in his room. The first time was when they were barely six years old.

“Why is your room the way it is?” Y/n tilted her head around, looking at everything with her big doe eyes. Akiteru was sitting on Tsukishima’s bed listening to music on his iPod, seeing as Tsukishima’s parents wanted him to hang out with Y/n and Tsukishima.

“Because it is.”

“That’s not much of an answer though Kei-Kei.” Y/n poked at a few of his dinosaur figurines.

“Stop calling me that.” Tsukishima stood up and fixed the arrangement of his toys before dragging Y/n down to the floor so that she wouldn’t keep messing with his stuff.

“Kei-Kei?” Y/n offered. Laying on her back, she extended out all of her limbs to mimic a starfish.

“Stop.”

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n sat back up and leaned forward, facing him.

“I said to stop!” He put his hands on her shoulders and put his face up close to her own.

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n mocked, moving her head from one side to the other for each syllable of the nickname. Tsukishima took his hands off her shoulders and pouted. At the same time, Akiteru got off the bed and tried walking out of Tsukishima’s room. But he tripped and accidentally bumped into Tsukishima.

Akiteru gasped.

Tsukishima and Y/n’s lips were touching. Akiteru ran out of the room with his eyes blown out wide. Tsukishima stayed still; y/n’s lips were sticky from her Chapstick and the feeling of resting his lips against hers was nice. Y/n immediately retreated her head away from Tsukishima’s. She looked wildly distraught. And in one instant she had begun to bawl. Tsukishima panicked.

“What's wrong?!”

“I didn’t want you to be my first kiss!” She said with tears streaming down her face, she kept trying to wipe them off but it began to irritate her skin and make her cheeks and eyes turn red.

“Hold on, I can fix it!” Tsukishima stood up and began searching his desk drawers. Pulling out the drawers rapidly, he stuck his hands in each of them feeling around. When he finally found what he was looking for he went back to Y/n and crouched down next to her.

“You should rub the eraser against your lips, and then it'll be like it never happened!” Y/n did as was suggested, once she felt satisfied with the erasing, she sighed.

“Good save there Kei-Kei.” She was still sniffling but had long since stopped crying. When she offered the eraser to him, he put it back into his drawer. “Aren’t you going to get rid of the kiss?” She questioned, again rubbing her eyes to get rid of the remaining wet spots on her cheeks.

“I don’t think I want to.”

The tension in the room snapped. Like when two people were tugging on two opposite ends of a rope, and the middle begins to slowly fray, and then as they kept tugging it to be more on their side, the rope rips in the middle and both people fall down due to the gravity of having the only thing keeping them upright breaking. Y/n put her head in her hands and her shoulders begin to shake. Slowly at first, like the fraying of the rope. Then faster, and her breath was reduced to sharp inhales, the ripping in the middle. And then finally heavy exhales combined with tears falling, the snap.

Just like when they were six years old, Tsukishima jumped up and tried to fix it. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, her head on his chest. The flames in his chest rise, the palpitating pain starting in his chest spreads out until every inch of his body is absorbed in excruciating pain. It didn’t hurt, it just ached. He wanted so badly to block out everything that was hurting her at the moment. But he knew that anything he would try to say would just come out sounding cruel in the moment.

She cried herself to sleep. Tsukishima was still holding her against his chest when he could hear the sniffles subside and become replaced with slow and balanced breathing. He stayed like that for a minute longer than needed. When he picked her up, carefully cradling her head and went to the guest room. Her stuff was indeed in the room, she had unpacked some of her school stuff as it was strewn across the desk. He laid her on the bed. Her body naturally cuddles up to one of the pillows. Tsukishima pulled the blanket hanging on the reading chair in the corner of the room and set it on y/n’s sleeping figure.

He stayed in the room for longer than would have been deemed appropriate. But his excuse was that he wanted to make sure she was still breathing. Her inhales and exhales are even and stable, not like the sharpness of when she was crying and choking on not having enough air get to her lungs. When Tsukishima walked out of her room, he shut the door as softly as possible.

He had two things to do.

Make sure y/n was okay.

Which was completed successfully.

The other thing was to beat Akiteru up.

“Bye! See you tomorrow then? Saturday at two! Love you!” Akiteru let out a love-struck sigh, resting his back against the front door.

“What is wrong with you?” Tsukishima said and though his words were aggressive, they came out calmly. But yet, each word seems to prick and scratch at Akiteru.

“Excuse me?” Akiteru’s mood dropped, and it was obvious.

“You really messed things up. Why the hell did you have to bring a girl over, when you knew that Y/n would be here. You do know that she is practically in love with you right?”

Akiteru’s mouth moved like a fish. It was moving but no words were coming out. Tsukishima’s next words were sarcastic and dripping with a jealous venom. “Perfect Akiteru, older brother extraordinaire, the best role model.”

“Kei.” Akiteru rubbed his temple, and walked towards Tsukishima.

“Don't call me that.” Tsukishima took a step back. Away from his brother, no scratch that, away from the man who made the love of his life hurt.

“But it's your name?” Akiteru reasoned. He didn’t try to take a step forward.

“I don’t want you tainting the way I've heard it said. You don’t get to say my name anymore. Not after you made y/n cry. She cried so hard I thought she was going to accidently hurt herself from how she was breathing.” Tsukishima’s glasses were fogging up, his fists clenched. But his voice stayed the same, calm and powerful. He was making sure his voice didn’t crack in front of Akiteru.

“She told me she had a crush on...” Akiteru was cut off when Tsukishima heard his words.

“So why did you have to go and be such an asshole?” Tsukishima’s voice cracked, but he kept his stance.

“I wasn’t being an asshole Kei.” Akiteru explained.

“Don't call me that.”

“Fine. But you do realize that I can't stop my life just for y/n, right? It isn’t going to always be about what she wants?” Akiteru tried to reason.

“It is for me! It's always going to be about her. It always has been.” That’s when the tears started to fall. They blinded him.

“Then why don’t you let her know that? Because it honestly doesn’t seem like you care about her when you toy around with a new girl every week.” Akiteru was done giving his words a soft touch, these words were hard hitting and so true that it made Tsukishima want to puke.

“Because that’s the only way to get her to pay attention to me! Don’t you see?” Tsukishima stood back up. “The only way to get her attention is for me to show her that I'm wanted by other girls.”

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” Akiteru pushed past Tsukishima and walked upstairs to his room. Leaving Tsukishima to stand alone in the hallway.

As the sun peeked over the rim of the world, people awoke and rose from their death-like slumber. Tsukishima had fallen asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. When he woke up, he looked at his phone and realized that Yamaguchi had called him over ten times and his messages were all about Y/n.

(TSUKKI) (Did you ask her yet?) (Ask her pls) (Ask her!!!!) (Yachi is on my tail rn pls ask and get an answer) (Oh r u in one of your moods about her rn?) (Did you try and be all romantic and shit and it didn’t turn out the way u wanted) (Lol jk) (I know u wouldn’t do that) (But yeah, just ask her’)(thankzzzzz)

When Tsukishima put on his glasses, he was about to type in a reply, when there were seven knocks on his door. Y/n. His answer came out before he could realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Come on in!” When Y/n opened the door, she had two plates of food balanced on her hands and her hair was slightly damp.

“Oh.....hey, I brought food. But if you want, I can just leave it here....” Y/n trailed off.

“No! I mean, no, you can stay. I’ll put on a shirt.”

Tsukishima stood up and went over to his closet and slipped on a shirt, then he went back and sat on his bed. Y/n was sitting crossed legged in his beanbag and chewing on some of the strawberries on her plate. Tsukishima did the same, crossing his legs and eating the fruit.

“I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown. I shouldn't be getting emotional over nothing.” Y/n toyed with a piece of her hair, looking down at her plate. When she saw Akiteru kissing the girl, she wasn’t jealous. She imagined that it was her and Tsukishima. She tried blinking repeatedly to get the image out of her head. But it stuck. And she realized. She should have realized sooner.

“Yamaguchi was wondering if you would come along for the volleyball training camp next month?” Tsukishima said. When he realized what he did, he honestly wanted to slap himself in the face. He completely ignored what Y/n was trying to say, and he felt embarrassed.

Y/n raised her eyebrows in shock, but then gave a shy smile. “Sure, it’s not like I’ll be doing anything else.” Tsukishima swallowed thickly, and nodded.

The second time Y/n was in his room was when they were ten years old.

Tsukishima hated when his parents held dinner parties, and he still does. But because of his slowly growing crush on Y/n he seemed more willing to help out with the party. When the Tsukishimas’ lined up by the front door, wearing their best dress, welcoming the guests with a curt bow, Tsukishima thought he would drown from all the people invading his space. Seeing Y/n hop inside his house was a refreshing breath of air.

How was he supposed to focus on what his mom was trying to say about the steak when Y/n was sitting right there. Right next to him, and being so perfect that he thought he would just burst from pure happiness. Y/n had been on a vacation for most of summer, so he hadn’t seen her for a long time.

She had gotten taller, but so had he. She had gotten prettier, and he still felt like he had a baby face. She had gotten more polite and was able to find the ample time to give her opinion during the conversation between the grownups, while he still struggled to refrain from making snarky comments about the lives of his parents' friends.

So, he thought he was dreaming when Y/n made eye contact and moved her eyes to look over at the stairs when the adults brought out the alcohol. Swiftly, they made their escape to his room. Tsukishima was glad that his parents had forced him to clean his room before the party.

“Kei, I thought I was going to just die from all the talking about taxes.”

“But, Y/n, you seemed to be so good at finding exactly what to say. Like, all the time.”

Tsukishima stood in the middle of his room, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Y/n held her hands behind her back and pursed her lips together as she looked around his room.

“I guess. But it's pretty stupid that adults don’t talk about cool things anymore.” Y/n heard her name being called from downstairs. “Kei, promise that even when we are old and wrinkly and gross, that we won’t have nothing to talk about?” Y/n held out her hand, and Tsukishima gripped it tight as they shook seven times.

“Okay, now that you promised Kei, you can't ever break it okay?”

“I know.” Tsukishima smiled as he waved goodbye to Y/n as she exited his room.

His promise echoed in his brain as a month passed with Y/n living in his house. Conversations were kept to a minimum, as they each worked on homework separately. Tsukishima, though, often got flustered when he saw her bras hanging up on the drying rack in the laundry room. Other than seeing bras, or an occasional pair of underwear, he was sure that he could make it the month without being forced into any awkward situations. Weekly movie night was practically the same, except for the addition of Akiteru’s girlfriend. But, halfway through each of the movies the couple would start kissing and it would disturb Tsukishima and Y/n, who then retreated to their own rooms.

When Tsukishima woke up to his alarm at around five thirty in the morning, he laid in his bed for a while just staring at the glow in the dark dinosaurs. He could hear Y/n shuffling downstairs with her suitcase, and he looked over to his own suitcase. For a while he pretended that this was normal. To have the girl that he had been in love with since he was six-year-old living in his house. When he went downstairs, Y/n was yawning and looking through her backpack to make sure that she had everything for the week long training camp. His last training camp as a high schooler. He was a third year now. So was Y/n. But it hadn’t quite hit him until he was at the school with everyone waiting to get onto the bus.

“Since you are all Karasuno Volleyball members, I thought it would be a fun idea to pair you up for the bus ride, and for any activities that we have planned while we are down in Tokyo. While this is still training camp, we want this to be memorable. Especially for our intermittent manager, L/n.” Coach Ukai stated dully, as if he was reading off cue cards written by Takada which he was indeed doing.

“-And finally, we have Tsukishima and L/n as our last pair. Okay get your asses on the bus, I’m too tired for this right now.”

Getting onto the bus last, Tsukishima took both his and Y/n’s suitcases and put them on the overhead carrier. Y/n seemed stunned by the action then just shook her head and slipped into the row, sitting in the window seat. Tsukishima hardly got any sleep during the night and was on the verge of falling asleep. Nodding his head before flinching and lifting his head back up. There was a seat in-between Tsukishima and Y/n, where they set their backpacks down. Tsukishima leaned his head back onto the seat, but after about ten minutes his neck started to hurt. So, he just let out a low groan of agitation.

Whilst Tsukishima was going through his mini freak out trying to be comfortable enough to sleep, he didn’t notice as Y/n grabbed the bags and set them down by her feet. Clearing her throat, Tsukishima looked over to her with furrowed eyebrows and a sour face.

“Kei,” Tsukishima felt his heart jump into his throat. “C’mere.” Y/n reached over and pulled his head down, after he was resisting for a few seconds, Y/n clarified.

“Rest your head in my lap, you clearly didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll play with your hair like when we were younger.” Tsukishima wanted to refuse; he really did. But she was saying everything in the same gentle tone that she reserved for first years or the animals she came across. Once her hand went to his fringe, he was putty.

“Only because I'm tired.” He explained as he rested his head on her lap.

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

In almost no time, Tsukishima fell asleep. But instead of a dream, it was a memory. The memory of the third time Y/n went into his room.

They were sixteen and stupid. He had another layer though, he was sixteen, stupid, and mean. Second year had been a bitch so far. Tsukishima hadn’t even got seated in the same row as Y/n. Instead, she got seated next to some flirt on the basketball team. Now, there weren’t people taller than Tsukishima typically, but over the summer Ito Yuuta grew five inches and was two inches taller than Tsukishima.

Tsukishima didn’t want to accept the fact that Y/n was just being nice to Ito Yuuta, because Ito was, in the simplest terms, an ass to Tsukishima. So anytime he saw them talking, it triggered something in Tsukishima. So, his own mean ways came back with a passion. He led on more than three girls at a time the week that he caught Ito leaning in far too close to Y/n and made her laugh.

Tsukishima knew it was wrong. He knew he was playing with fire when Ito’s first year little sister tried to get Tsukishima’s attention. He knew it was bad news to break her heart. He knew it was worse news that he had done it right in front of Ito himself.

“I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Bye.” Tsukishima left Ito’s sister standing by the school entrance with her jaw slack and her hand covering her mouth. Ito was fuming. He marched into class and ripped Tsukishima’s headphones right off.

“What the hell. You can’t just do that to a first year!” Tsukishima stood up and ripped his headphones from Ito’s hands.

“I just did.”

“Screw you Tsukishima. You're just a sad bastard because Y/n wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged.” Ito huffed and pointed directly to where Y/n’s desk was.

“What?” He spat out.

“That's right, half of the school knows about your constant boner for the only girl who doesn’t give a flying shit about you.” Ito pushed Tsukishima in the chest before scoffing and walking out of the class. Tsukishima just stood there. Silent. Yamaguchi tried to talk to him but Tsukishima just snapped at him too.

Tsukishima walked out of class and to Y/n’s clubroom. When he saw her sitting down at a table silently gluing pieces of magazines onto a cardstock poster, he wanted to stop what he was going to do. But he was furious.

“You told him?” Tsukishima yelled. He was glad that it was just Y/n in the clubroom. Y/n flinched at the sudden screaming. He felt guilty immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tsukishima?” Y/n tried to get closer to him, but he pulled away from her.

“Oh, I'm sure you don’t know. Hell, Y/n.” Tsukishima stormed out of the clubroom and went straight home. He didn’t care if the school was going to call his parents, he was fuming and the only thing running through his veins was hatred.

He spent the entire day blasting music through his headphones, his eyes shut tight. The music was so loud that he didn’t even notice Y/n opening his bedroom door.

When she taps him on the shoulder he flinches at the sudden contact. He takes off his headphones and growls his words, “What do you want?”

“I want you to explain what happened in the clubroom.” She sat down on the edge of his bed and looked straight into his eyes.

This was the first time in what felt like forever that Y/n had talked to him. But he only had himself to blame for that, he was the one who pushed her away, he was the one who chose to stay away from her once he saw how she treated Akiteru. He was the one who was giving her the silent treatment.

And for once, Tsukishima wished he was anyone else at this moment.

“Do you really not see it?”

“How can I see when you’re covering my eyes?” Y/n refuted. Her analogy was confusing and didn’t clarify anything to Tsukishima.

“You never promised back that you would talk to me. Do you remember? We were ten years old, and you made me promise.” Tsukishima was tired of not having her attention. He was tired of it. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted her to actively search out for him and ask about his day. He just wanted to have her be there for him. But how could he expect that from her when he was never there for her?

“I don’t remember that Tsukishima.” Each of her words was like an arrow was shooting through his heart.

He got up from his bed and gently, with as little force as possible shoved her out of his room. Sixteen-year-old Tsukishima wanted to grab her hands and yell in her face that he loved her. He wanted to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Because saying that would make the conversation interesting, it would entertain Y/n. Because they would be talking about his love instead of taxes.

That was the worst night of his life. Tsukishima's memories loved to play harsh tricks on him by creeping up when his mentality and esteem were going from low to lower.

The bus droned on, and despite everyone’s attempt to sleep Kageyama and Hinata were still talking loudly to the first years about how cool their seniors had been.

She was slightly twisting his hair, her pointer finger grabbing small tufts and looping it around her finger before sliding her hand out, leaving miniature curls. Tsukishima, even on a bus ride, had always been a sleep talker.

He awoke when he felt her poking him in his cheek. When he turned his head to look up at her, she was grinning.

“I love you too Kei.” She whispered as her hand ran through his hair. “Your sleep talking habit has gotten worse over the years.” She mused, giving him a few pats on his head.

And suddenly every single one of Kei’s favorite memories came rushing back to him. The memory of his first kiss with Y/n. The memory of her faking falling off a cliff when they were eight years old. The dinner party where she made him promise to always have something to say. The drunk confession when he was fourteen-year old. The chasing and running in the rain at fifteen. His five favorite memories, bursting into vivid color.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to utter the words. She knew it was wrong to say that to him. She knew that her love for him would only seem to rebound from his brother. She was a jerk to do that to him. And she was completely aware of it. But she did love him.

She loved him when she realized she didn’t love Akiteru. She wanted to believe that she loved Akiteru because she didn’t want to say that she loved Kei. Kei played around too much, so she knew it would only hurt her to like him. She needed someone secure. And at the time that person was Akiteru. But once she saw him kissing another girl, she realized she wasn’t jealous.

She felt happy for Akiteru. When she pictured it as Kei however, only then was she jealous.

Kei sat up fast, his hands running to cup her face. His words were practically buffering in his brain as he tried to come up with a sarcastic comment. But that didn’t fit right for a moment like this.

“I finally, finally, have your attention, right?”

Some years later, and after a lot of growing up, life finally clicked.

"I guess you did end up with a pet dinosaur Kei." Y/N traced the outline of the label in front of the ancient bones. She was wearing his Sendai Frogs jersey.

"He's not a pet, he's a testament to nature." Tsukishima slipped his arm around her waist, slipping cold fingers under her shirt to rub her hip. Goosebumps appeared for a moment, then dissipated.

In three weeks they would get married. In four, their apartment would be ready to move into. In one hundred fifty-six weeks, Y/N agreed that she would consider, maybe, having a kid.

"Did you like the game?"

"I loved the game, you were so cool! Which is almost never the case." His face hurts from how hard he's been smiling lately.

"You don't have to work, you know." He commented when he saw her scrolling through her phone calendar, purple events of her job at the weather forecasting station. She liked being a meteorologist, she was always the first to know when it was going to rain now.

"You're so annoying." Tsukishima kissed her, getting a laugh and a smile in response. He continued the tour around the museum, giving her more details than any other tour he had given. His favorite relics, his least favorite place to clean, the place he most wanted to make out with her. When they took a pause, she was playing with his hair at the nape of his neck as they were sitting in front of a painting.

Tsukishima Kei was used to the attention he got from L/N Y/N. It came from having an aura where he radiated love for her.

[mosaickiwi]

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language) Hello, I hope you are doing well! Can I ask you for a drabble about the wedding day of an emotional MC who burst into tears because she thought that this day would never come and REDACTED, but without the “lavish ceremony” (lots of guests, wedding suits, huge celebration, etc.) (please forgive me, I hope I was able to express myself clearly, thank you very much and have a nice day!) ฅ'ω'ฅ

!!!

By law I must post wedding fic on Valentine's Day!!!

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Wedding Day~

You nervously toyed with the ring in your palm, heart racing so hard it hurt. It was still difficult to believe what was happening. This was happening.

It was the same golden ring your partner had worn since you first met him. There wasn't a moment you ever saw them without it as he changed from a shy, stuttering mess in a cardigan to the clingy, dark-haired brat of a man you fell in love with more and more each day. Although the amount of rings they wore had grown.

That fateful day on the playground was something you couldn't even remember, and from what your companion told, you didn't want to. The second try was a far better memory for the both of you anyway. You were the one who proposed that time, catching them by complete surprise with the confidence you never usually had to ask anything of him. But you managed to do it.

And now you were the one who would put a ring on their finger.

“We haven't even started the vows,” [REDACTED] quietly said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Y'can’t be cryin’ just yet, Angel.”

“Am I crying?” The words came out hoarse from your already tightening throat. You hadn't realized. Sure enough, hot tears were streaming down your face as he gently wiped at them with his thumb. 

You tried to calm down, gazing up at him to distract yourself. Their voice had the same familiarly teasing tone it always did, but you could tell from the soft quiver to his lower lip that he was holding back his own tears.

“Yeah, it’s—” He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, then hurriedly pushed his dark hair out of his reddening eyes. You wanted to tease him back about it, but you knew if you tried to speak again the tears would come flooding even worse. Another few moments passed as you both tried to collect yourselves.

Surprisingly, it took him a little longer. The tears on your cheeks had long fell and dried while he stood in front of you, eyes shrouded behind their bangs.

But after one more unsteady breath, he seemed to find his way again and look at you. “Are you ready?” they asked, a shakiness to their hands as he reached for the dangling chain around your neck—the necklace he’d given to you months ago once he’d found the courage to say yes to your proposal.

With your anxious nod of approval, he continued. Cool fingertips brushed at your collarbone, finding the silver clasp at the back of your neck and releasing it with a faint clicking of metal. The necklace fell loosely in his hands as he pulled it away. The golden ring easily slid from the chain and he rolled it in his fingers for a long moment, staring at it silently.

They were noticeably calmer this time, with a trembling smile that reached their eyes as he took your left hand and repeated himself. 

“Ready?”

[everparanoid]

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk.  His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.  

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded. 

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?”  you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

 Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible.  Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

 He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

 “I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

 Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

��Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

masterlist

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[galacticsuperstitions]

the minds of a lab at three different points (LONG rambling under the cut)

I am constantly in awe of the analyses people put out about Arknights on this website. I feel like my own interpretations are somewhat lacking as a result, but I was confident enough to post this, at least. I've had this idea for a long time now, I think since Lone Trail released, but I've only been able to make the time for it now.

Rhine Lab has so many fucked up elements and people involved in it that it's actually impressive. They were really gunning for "most unethical scientific consortium" reward. Really, though, it's just the result of Kristen gunning for her parents' wishes. All of the directors want something and all of those somethings are different.

Things I want to mention or just feel proud of (allowing myself this because of how long this took):

-I was originally planning on crossing out Saria's surname to reflect that we still don't know what it is in canon, but I don't know why whoever has this poster would do that, so I just kept it in. Hermon refers to Mount Hermon, which Saria's name apparently derives from. Technically, her name here is the same thing twice. Oh well.

-I don't know who this poster belongs to. It's just in some Rhine Lab tech's personal desk, I guess? Doesn't explain the doodles, though. Maybe they were bored and feeling spiteful about the potential job insecurity of your boss being comatose in space.

-I realized only while making this post that I made Saria's, Muelsyse's, and Jara's doodles reference Kristen, yet Kristen's only references herself and her parents. Completely unintentional, but appropriate nonetheless.

-I am so happy with how the poster came out. It makes up for how hard I had to fight Canva for it to come out like that. Here it is in full if you want to look at it closely for whatever reason. (writing an actual description for this thing was fun!)

-Andenate doesn't actually have a face under the sticky note. That's why he's still Mike Wazowski'd in the poster png. I didn't feel like drawing one since it wouldn't be shown in the finished pieces anyway. His jacket is just the same as Magallan's.

-Ifrit's picture board was a literal last-minute addition. It's why the images are sketches rather than being in the lineless style of the poster. It feels fitting, though, so I'm keeping it that way. Seeing Ifrit all grown up and doing so well in Lone Trail was wonderful. There's something in her being happy and healthy and also surrounded by not just her loved ones and friends from Rhine Lab, but also people outside of it. She's cultivated her life to be as fulfilling as she wants it to be, and while there is still room to grow, she has plenty of support and insight from others for it to do so. I may be misrepresenting her a bit (the sleepiness doesn't help), but man. I love Ifrit. She's so cool.

[book-girl4evaaa]

Some of my Heathers head cannons!

(most of these will be for both movie and musical but i shall specify if otherwise)

Heather used to be a huge basketball player back in middle school (she was even on the school team), but her mom didn't like her playing it and wanted her to do netball instead. Heather stopped playing both sports but ended up playing volleyball, which she stuck with - but only did it for fun.

Heather was really mature for her age, even as a little kid. This meant she wasn't particularly popular in elementary school (apparently trying to referee tag-your-it and cussing out the other 7 year olds didn't make you cool), but once she got to middle school, everyone wanted to be grown up and Heather had a long head start.

Veronica (movie) used to be a really high acheiver at the beginning of high school, but as she got older, and became friends with the Heathers who didn't prioritise school, her grades dipped. Not enough to cause any damage to her future because Veronica's incredibly intelligent, but she would stress over them and get really annoyed at herself. After the events of the movie, Veronica and Duke make up and end up studying together.

When Heather first made friends with Heather, Duke was confident, self-respecting and in a good place about herself - not as in arrogant, just confident. Then as they grew up, Heather noticed Heather and other girls doing that thing where they complain about how ugly they look when they dont actually think they're ugly. This confused Heather a lot because she saw Heather as really pretty, prettier than her even. So then she started to think, "if Heather doesn't think she's pretty, then where does that leave me?" And thats when her insecurities started.

Heather's parents are from South Korea, Heather's father is Nigerian, specifically Yoruba (although she's white passing), Veronica's mother is south Asian and Heather's family is Irish

Heather's parents where pretty supportive of her and her education and didn't put too much pressure on her, but she wasn't as focused on as her older sister. Heather was still loved her parents, and she knew that, sort of, but as she got older, the second place treatment only made her more insecure.

Heather's father and mother split up when Heather was a sophmore but she didn't really like to talk about it. She's a lot closer to her father than her mother, becuase her mother used to drink a lot and was very difficult to deal with when she was drunk. Heather's dad was pretty supportive of her emotionally, and Heather was the same for him.

Heather's father had wanted a son, but gotten Heather as a daughter instead, and subsequently stopped caring about or loving Heather or Heather's mom. While Heather loved her mom, she was dissapointed by the way her mother still cared for her father dispite his obvious disinterest, so Heather decided she wouldn't date anyone who she actually felt anything meaningful for.

Veronica's childhood was mainly okay, until she was offered the oppotunity to move up into highschool early. While her parents and her decided not to, this then prompted her parents to put pressure on her to do amazing at her current level because "if Veronica could be passing 3 grades above her, then she sure as hell will excelling where she is." This was... a lot of pressure for a 12 year old but Veronica dealt with it pretty well until high school, at which point her parents layed off a bit.

ummmmm also, Veronica is bisexual, Heather is lesbian and demiromantic and asexual, Heather is bisexual with female preference (and possibly a demigirl) and Heather is lesbian :)

[artistinquestion]

The Empress of Rome

Part Two

Emperor Geta x OC

Warnings: pregnancy, slight verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: after waking alone, the empress defies her bedrest orders to wander the gardens meeting with her mother in law and friend before she once again finds herself in trouble with her husband, the emperor Geta.

Author's Note: idk how long I'm supposed to wait between posting updates! I planned on doing every other day, but yesterday I was busy with life stuff! Thank you so much for enjoying part one! You gave me confidence to keep working on writing and posting the coming parts of my fic! this part is a bit longer than the first part, that's just how the parts ended up dividing up. Thanks again for reading!

Upon waking in the morning, the empress found herself alone in her bed. Not unusual since she was put on bedrest, most mornings she woke alone. Geta having gone off to fulfill his duties as emperor with his brother.

There were mornings, however, where Cassia would wake to the sounds of hushed whispers and her husband's hands on her stomach, moments where Geta was soft when addressing their unborn child in the womb. Those were times when Cassia knew not to disturb him. She would occasionally run her fingers through his short golden orange hair and let him be, let him speak words to her stomach in hopes their child could hear and understand. She liked those mornings.

Slowly Cassia rose from her bed, pushing herself up til she was sitting with her back against the headboard. With a yawn and a stretch, she called for her servants to help her get ready for the day ahead. Doing her best to keep her worries at bay and forget the dreams that plagued her at night.

The servants always seemed so nervous around her, scared to misstep and do something to inflict the anger of the emperor upon them. Cassia always tried to soothe her servants worried minds, but she knew all too well the threat of death hung over anyone's head who crossed her husband's path.

This morning the servants were just as timid as they attended their empress, seemingly scared to let her rise from her bed.

"Augusta, the physician said you were to be on bedrest" a servant spoke up, two of them at Cassia’s sides taking her hands as she tried to rise from the bed.

"I know well what the physician said, and I am getting out of bed" Cassia stated, a slight irritation in her tone, tired of being condemned to a bed.

"But Augusta, the emperor stated-"

Cassia was quick to cut off the servants thought "I know what the emperor has stated, but I am not staying in bed on this day. I am restless, I need to walk." Cassia stated firmly. Very rarely was she ever sharp with the servants, but she had grown tired of being told what she could and could not do.

Reluctantly, the servants bowed their heads in submission to their empress’s demand, struggling with the idea of disobeying both the physician and the emperor’s orders. However, they also knew better than to question the will of their empress. With careful steps, they began readying Cassia for the day.

Cassia knew she had limits to her mobility in her state, but regardless she would be getting around Palatine today. To ease the worries of her servants she again would only stray as far as the gardens, attended by her guards as her husband requested.

As Cassia made her way through the same halls she traversed that night before, she made her way towards the gardens once again. The one place she could seemingly find peace. The sounds of birds chirping in the cool morning air filled her ears, she took a deep breath as she tried to clear her mind once again. As the sun rose higher in the sky, so came the heat of the day.

Cassia had managed to make her way to the gardens, only to stumble upon her mother in law and another highborn woman she knew well, also standing in the garden. Making her way over, both women gave a slight bow of acknowledgment towards their empress.

"Good morning, Augusta" Lucilla greeted, followed by Julia, the mother of the emperors.

"I didn't expect to see you up and out today, you're looking well" Julia spoke towards her daughter in law.

Cassia gave a tight lipped smile as she approached the two women, one hand on the small of her back as her belly weighed heavy on her body.

"Good morning to you both.” She greeted “I have grown restless being cooped up in my chambers. I've tried to manage taking walks through the garden atleast once a day to keep myself occupied" Cassia responded.

Both women nodded in understanding, they had been witness to Cassia’s growing frustration due to being confined to her chambers as of late. They knew that the physician had ordered the empress remain on bedrest just to be safe, Cassia’s pregnancy having come with a handful of complications in the past months. But they understood her restlessness. Both being mothers, they knew well the trials and tribulations of pregnancy, especially a royal one, so they greatly understood what made Cassia wander.

"You will be a mother soon enough, should be any day now shouldn't it?" Lucilla asked, striking a conversation with the young empress.

“Yes Lucilla, it could be any day now” she tried to smile even though the thought scared her to death. Cassia paused for a moment, looking around at the garden surrounding them before adding “I only hope that our child will be born healthy and strong”

The three women then fell into a comfortable silence, each soaking up the warmth of the sun on their skin. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air Cassia sighed before going to speak again.

“It is a beautiful day, is it not?" Cassia hummed, the two older women nodding in agreement.

"It is beautiful weather" Julia replied, moving closer to push a strand of blonde hair from Cassia’s shoulder "you're glowing, ever the picture of a mother" she complimented her dear daughter in law.

Cassia smiled "thank you," she muttered.

As the three women conversed, each taking a seat out in the middle of the garden, everything seemed peaceful as the heat started to rise.

As the sun shined brightly over the palace gardens, the three woman once again settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the calm before the storm of court life.

Suddenly, a visibly anxious servant rushed over, their eyes darting around nervously as they went to address the empress.

“Augusta, the physician has come to your chambers to check on you. He says you must return to your chambers immediately”

Feeling the women’s eyes upon her expectantly, Cassia let out a sigh.

"I am fine, the fresh air is doing me good. It is important that I stretch my legs out. Tell the physician I will meet with him later" she retorted, not even sparing the servant a glance as she tried to maintain what peace she had began to relax in.

Tension quickly rose amongst the women and the servant then. Julia glanced over towards her daughter in law with a look of concern.

“Perhaps it would be best if we heeded the physician’s words for now. It would be for the best if you returned to your chambers and rested, let the physician look over you.” The older woman advised politely.

Cassia gave another heavy sigh "I swear I am fine, I just want one moment of peace outside, away from my chambers" she stated.

The feeling of eyes boring into her soul suddenly catching the empress’s attention. Looking over at her mother in law, Cassia saw her attention was focused on the balcony looking over the garden. There Cassia saw her husband staring down at the three women, glaring directly at his wife.

Cassia let out a breath of frustration, knowing she was once again in trouble with her husband.

"Perhaps you're right," she sighed, reaching her hands out for the servant to help her stand. Turning towards the two older women before she departed "we will talk another time" she stated, once again forcing a smile on her face. The two giving a sympathetic smile and a nod in return before Cassia was lead off by the servant.

As the servant lead Cassia back to her chambers, accompanied by her usual servants and guards, all couldn’t help but feel the tension growing in the air. The emperor was once again unhappy with his wife’s behavior, her disobedience at the simplest of orders. All Cassia wanted was just a single moment of peace, but it seemed that small bit of peace often followed with a good tongue lashing from her husband, ever disapproving of her attempts to dodge the physicians orders as of late. It wouldn't be long til he barricaded her in, she suspects.

As they neared her chambers, Cassia tried to prepare for the coming confrontation with her husband. She had known her disregard for the physician’s orders would have angered him, but she at least felt some sense of relief having briefly escaped her confinement.

Whatever her husband would have to say, she has heard it before. He probably grew tired of repeatedly confronting her for her disobedience, which would only anger him further. Cassia never truly tried to anger her husband, his anger was not a pretty sight, but as of late she couldn't help but wander to escape the feeling of being trapped or confined to a small space. She had spent most of her times wandering through Palatine and the gardens before she fell pregnant, she hadn't expected to stop.

Stood at the doors to her chambers, Cassia could hear the loud voice of her husband as he took out his anger on the physician inside. Feeling a sense of dread wash over her, knowing she was in trouble. The guards pushed open the doors to the empress’s chambers, revealing her husband pacing angrily about the room.

Cassia tried to remain stoic as she entered the room, the physician immediately turning his attention towards the pregnant empress.

"Augusta, please have a seat, lie down please. You mustn't be up and about like this!" The physician worried aloud, no doubt worried that the emperor would take his anger out on him further for her disobedience.

Cassia held her hands up to try and stop and calm the doctor, but she caught the glare of her husband before she could even speak a word against his worries. Sighing, the empress let a servant and the physician help her back into bed, placing pillows behind her back so she could atleast sit up.

"I was just getting some fresh air, stretching my legs. Both things are good for me to do" Cassia started her argument.

“The physician’s orders are for your own good, wife” Geta interrupted sharply, his voice harsh with a glare to match. “I will not risk the health of my heir because of your recklessness. You are to be confined to your chambers until further notice.”

Cassia opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it when she caught the sharpness of her husband's glare. He was furious. She sat back, arms crossed over her chest as she pouted like a child, unhappy with her husband's demands.

The physician moved the fabric of the empress's dress upwards to expose her stomach to him before he began examining her. Cassia avoiding eye contact as she felt her husband's eyes boring into the side of her head once again, as the physician's hands touched her stomach.

“Augusta, I must insist that you remain confined to these chambers” the physician advised firmly in agreement with the emperor’s orders. His nervousness in their presence visible in the way his hands shook ever so slightly. “Your health and that of the child are of utmost importance” he reaffirmed as he took her pulse, as well as her temperature making notes on his scroll.

"You two act as though I am intentionally trying to harm my child, I am not. I am simply trying to maintain my own sanity and wellbeing while carrying this child." Cassia spoke up again, irritated by both men in the room. Neither of them would ever know what it was like carrying a child and yet they act as though they know what's best, better than she does.

“That is enough out of you, woman!” Geta snapped, his patience having run thin. “You will do as you are told and will remain here until I see fit to release you. Is that clear?” He glared at her, daring her to argue further.

Both Cassia and the physician flinched when they heard her husband's raised voice. She looked away once again, huffing out a breath as she looked out the balcony of her chambers, missing her freedom already.

"Fine," she uttered almost silently.

The physician then put his ear to her stomach, listening for the heartbeat of the unborn child. After a moment of intense focus, the physician smiled nervously before assuring the health of the child. “The child’s heartbeat is strong, Augusta. Imperator. Your child is healthy.” The old man gently patted Cassia on the shoulder in reassurance, giving a bow towards the emperor and his wife before quickly leaving the room, his duty done for the time being.

Cassia tensed as soon as the doors shut, a small feeling of worry rising inside her as she was left with her violent and erratic husband. He hadn't raised a hand to her since she's been with child, but she didn't know for sure he wouldn't harm her now given how far she had pushed him.

The tension in the room only grew as Cassia couldn’t help but notice the way Geta’s dark eyes narrowed when she refused to obey his orders. He made it very clear that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her defiance. She tried to remain unaffected looking out towards the balcony, but she knew he was just waiting for her to speak up in defiance again.

"Healthy. Did you hear what the physician said? Our child is healthy," Cassia tried to reason, to calm the fire that was no doubt already blazing inside her husband's mind.

Geta’s gaze shifted towards his wife “yes, I heard. But that does not change the fact that you continually put both your health and the health of my heir in danger with your disobedience.” His voice was cold, devoid of all emotions aside from anger.

"I simply wanted to move, to not be confined to a bed to rot whilst waiting for the inevitable to happen. This babe will come when it's ready, I do not wish to be made to sit around and wait! All I have been doing is for my health and for the benefit of our child!" Cassia argued, knowing full well she was stoking the fire inside of him by arguing her point. "But now you have your way, I am confined to my room, my liege," she hissed.

Geta’s eyes narrowed once again, his face tightening into a scowl.

“Your insolence is unbecoming, wife. I had thought you smarter than this, but you will learn to obey my commands, even if it means enduring discomfort for a short while” he spat, irritated by her continued defiance.

True, she hadn't acted up against him until recently, she had always obeyed and played along even when he struck her. She obeyed and played the part as was her duty to her husband and to Rome.

Cassia sighed in defeat, she could practically feel the tension rising even higher in the air surrounding them. She knew that attempting to argue further would only worsen the situation, so she remained silent. As much as she hated being confined to her chambers, unable to move freely, she also knew that the consequences of disobeying her husband’s orders would only intensify the further she pushed.

The emperor rounded the bed, moving to her bedside as she tried to ignore his presence. Cassia flinching slightly as she felt a hand on her skin, her husband's calloused hand now feeling the expanse of her rounded stomach, feeling where their unborn child lay. His heir.

“Our child is strong.” Cassia spoke quietly, hoping to appease her husband. “They will grow up to be a fine ruler, just like you, my husband” she stole a quick glance at him, watching as his eyes focused on her middle.

Geta remained silent, his eyes briefly looking to his wife before returning their attention to his unborn child.

As dangerous as it was being alone with the emperor, private moments like this were also when he would show that side not a soul in Rome got to see. One that Geta would actively deny if ever she brought it up.

The emperor then knelt by her bedside, lowering his forehead til it touched the skin of her protruding stomach, silent. His eyes closed, remaining in that position as he felt the subtle movement of their unborn child beneath her skin.

Geta remained that way for only a moment longer before he rose to his feet, turning away from Cassia and walking away without another word, leaving her chambers. Cassia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding, her heart still pounding from the confrontation with her husband. For now, she would rest.

[k-nayee]

A Fusion of Feelings STEVEN UNIVERSE

wc: 5.4k a/n: ngl I forgot what inspired me but just know I was on the bed eating Trolli crawlers !! Post-Steven Universe: The Movie (2019) !!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The cool salt-laced air of Beach City clung to the evening as Steven got out the car, the golden glow of the setting sun stretching shadows across the familiar sands.

At twenty, he carried himself differently now, with a quiet confidence that spoke of growth.

The tailored pink jacket he wore paired with jeans that fit him snugly was a silent testament to how he'd changed over the four years he'd been away.

His aura was more grounded, less childish. Honestly it kinda unsettled Connie to see him this way—more a stranger and less the boy she once knew.

But beyond the new posture and the maturity in his eyes, the essence of Steven Universe—kind, earnest, ever-hopeful—remained.

Connie heart thudded as she watched him scan the area. When his eyes landed on her it was like a moment suspended in time.

The boyish face she remembered was now sculpted with sharper edges, framed by unruly curls that had grown out, and his posture spoke of someone who had wrestled with his own demons and won.

A smile broke across his face as she rushed forward, her dark hair a wild halo catching the breeze before pulling him into a hug.

It was warm, familiar...and yet there was a split second of hesitation. Something was different.

His hands were firm but no longer lingering, his eyes searched hers with affection but no not with the same intenseful adoration.

It stung more than she cared to admit.

They fell into old rhythms easily from jokes about childhood adventures to updates on the latest antics of the Crystal Gems.

Yet as they spoke, Connie caught herself watching for cracks in his expression, hoping to find a hint of longing for the past

 Instead, she found something gentler—a quiet satisfaction that wasn't solely about her.

Steven began to tell stories from his travels. And amid these conversations, an invisible thread pulled at Connie's focus, a name woven seamlessly into Steven's stories—you.

He had met you during as visit to a local university in the South.

But that wasn't what bothered the human member of Crystal Gems. It was the way he spoke with a kind of unconscious reverence of you.

Pictures of shared laughter over late-night conversations were painted, of your fascination with reading or the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

"She's just...her," Steven's voice would soften, his eyes drifting as he spoke. "You'd love talking to her about books Connie! You both have that same spark when you get excited."

Connie's chest tightened at each mention and she struggled to maintain her indifference.

"She was so passionate about that one book. You know the one with the wizard school?" Steven says before his eyes light up with another thought. "Oh and [favorite beverage]! You should have seen her face when she talks about it—it's like she's describing the most magical thing in the world."

Connie forced a light laugh but the edges were brittle. "Sounds she's a good friend." The words felt sour on her tongue, each one an effort to keep in check.

"She is. I mean, I know everything a good friend should," Steven's eyes go unfocused as if tracing the memory of your smile.

Connie's stomach twisted. He didn't even realize. But she did.

Every time he spoke, she pieced together an image of you, so vivid that it felt like you were already there.

Every word, every gleam in Steven's eyes carved deeper into her. There it was again—that bitter thread of envy weaving through her.

She scolded herself internally. Steven deserved happiness, after all.

He had spent so long putting others before himself. Seeing him light up because of you should have been enough.

Shouldn't it?

Connie knew she shouldn't be this way. She had ended things years ago; they were too young and she hadn't been ready.

 Still, why did this happiness have to come at the cost of her own peace? Seeing him like this—so openly fond of someone else—brought a feeling that was hard to shake.

She had let him go.

She should be happy for him.

Should.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

It was early one morning when Steven burst into Connie's home.

The door swung open with such force that it thudded against the wall, and Connie mid-phone call with her mother, jumped up from the sofa.

"Steven?" Her voice was sharp with concern as he stood in the doorway, face flushed and eyes wide.

His curls were unruly, hands raking through them as he paced in frantic circles.

"She's here," his voice was pitched high with barely contained panic hadn't heard in years.

Connie's breath caught in her throat. A part of her wondered if her complexion had paled, if her surprise was as visible as she felt it must be.

She didn't need him to say more. The implication was clear: You were in Beach City. 

"Hey Mom, I'm going to call you back. Something's come up."

The moment she hung up Steven continued his pacing. There was a wildness to his eyes—a desperate energy that sent a pang of something undefinable through Connie.

"I can't see her...I-I just can't!" He turns to Connie with desperation painted across every line of his face. "I'm not ready."

The Maheswaran teen stepped toward him. "Wait wh—"

"I know I know, I'm a mess!" He motioned to his jacket, tugging at the sleeves. "I'm too nervous. What if I say something stupid? What if she realizes that I'm just weird?!"

The half-Gem's anxiety radiated off of him in waves as and he starts to pace once more.

He was sweating as his skin and hair began to take on a pink hue showcasing his fraying nerves.

 Connie instinctively grabs his shoulders to steady him. "Steven! Calm down! You need to breathe. You're overthinking it."

In her attempt to soothe him a light suddenly gleam in his eyes. His hands wraps around hers suddenly, startling her.

"I think we should fuse into Stevonnie." The words tumbled out so fast she almost missed them.

"...what?"

 Steven's grin brightens, more sure now. "We can meet her as Stevonnie. With your help I won't mess everything up."

Connie yanks her hands away as if stung. Stevonnie. That version of them, so complete, so complicated.

"Steven...y-you can't be serious!"

"C'mon! Just think about it. You're a girl, so you'd know what to say and how to gauge things better. I can't face her alone. Not yet." He spoke like it made perfect sense, like it was the most logical solution in the world.

Connie's breath caught. A myriad of emotions surged—betrayal, the flicker of old pain, and the gnawing realization of Steven's obliviousness to her own turmoil.

Why should she help him meet someone who might replace her in his heart? To help him woo someone who wasn't her? Why would she want to?

She wanted to yell, to refuse him outright, to protect herself from this emotional minefield.

But then she saw the way he looked at her—not with love but with trust.

The kind of trust that spoke of years of shared battles, laughter, and the silent understanding that only they had.

It twisted something in her heart leaving her feeling vulnerable. She had ended things for a reason. Steven deserved to find happiness.

Even if it wasn't with her.

Connie couldn't deny him, not when he needed her like this. With a tightened jaw, she release a defeated sigh.

"Fine," her voice was barely a whisper. "But we do this my way."

Relief softened Steven's tense posture, and before she could steel herself, he pulled her into a big hug. "Thank you Connie. I knew you'd understand!"

He steps back and quickly pulls out his phone. Clicking on the screen a few times, he shifted on his feet as he shakily puts the phone to his ear.

"Hey! It's Steven. About our meet-up later today—yeah, I'm okay just feeling a bit under the weather." He rasps his voice a little and force a light cough to sell the act.

Your muffled reply was on the other end. Connie didn't even have to hear your exact words to know what you'd said.

The way Steven's shoulders relaxed as a soft smile that crept across his lips—it was enough. It was everything.

And it made her stomach churn with a mix of emotions she could barely name.

Steven closed his eyes as if savoring the sound of your voice, his cheeks flushing a gentle pink—each reaction was a dagger twisting deeper.

She bit back a grimace. A whisper of curiosity tugged at her, unwilling to be ignored.

'What was it about you that could make Steven act like that?'

"No, no, you don't need to take care of me. I wouldn't want you to get sick." The son of Greg Universe and ̶P̶̶i̶̶n̶̶k̶ ̶D̶̶i̶̶a̶̶m̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶ Rose Quartz insisted, his voice softening in a way that made Connie's stomach twist.

The way he cared about you was so painfully evident and she had to steel herself as she stood by watching.

"Actually...my cousin Stevonnie is visiting," Steven adds with a hint of awkwardness. "They'd love to meet you. Maybe you both could hang out at the beach and finally get introduced to the Crystal Gems while at it?"

There was a pause, then muffled laughter filtered through the receiver causing his entire demeanor to change.

Eyes brightened he turns to Connie and sends her a thumbs up. She reluctantly mirrors it, her lips set in a forced smile.

As Steven continued the conversation Connie was left with her thoughts.

She wasn't ready for this.

Not the idea of meeting you, not the way Steven lit up because of you, and definitely not the confusing flutter in her chest as she thought about seeing you up close.

She began to brace herself for what was to come. She couldn't predict how this day would unfold, but she knew one thing—she already didn't like you.

Not at all.

But somewhere, buried under the jealousy and apprehension, was the tiniest ember of curiosity.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

Now merged, the semi-Gem stands before the mirror in the living room. Stevonnie's fingers tremble as they fluffed out their thick wavy hair.

The anxious energy beneath their skin was palpable—an odd fusion of Steven's heart-racing excitement and Connie's tight-lipped simmering unease—as they waited.

For you.

Their hands paused, fingers lingering in their curls before dropping with an eye-roll and scoff, "Jeez...is it that serious?"

A flare of irritation filled their chest as they stepped back, exhaling through their nose to calm the internal storm.

Stevonnie's brows knit together in question of the sudden emotion.

It wasn't just Steven's giddy anticipation or Connie's jealousy. It was something more tangled—anxiety mixed with an unfamiliar warmth.

 But there's no time to ponder further when the front door bursts open, the room filling with unrestrained laughter.

The boisterous sound bounces around the space as Pearl steps into view, her eyebrow twitching ever so slightly.

"Honestly Amethyst," Pearl chided, though there was a rare softness in her tone. Gaze finding the fusion, she offers a polite nod before gliding over to the nearby cushioned couch, hands folded neatly in her lap.

Garnet's silent presence filled the doorway next, her tall frame blocking the evening light momentarily as she stepped in.

The Gem's stoic expression softens just a touch when her gaze met Stevonnie's. Her lips subtly upturned as a way of unspoken reassurance.

Finally, Amethyst bounced in, her grin barely contained. She was cackling as she looked behind her yelling back, "Ya know, you're pretty funny for a meaty human!"

A familiar voice responds from beyond the door, "Why thank you my lil grape friend!"

Stevonnie's pulse quickened. It was you.

Their whole body seemed to pause, hands fidgeting nervously before forcing them to relax.

Steven's excitement surged, making their heart race, while Connie's wariness clawed at her mind.

But beneath it all there was a flicker of something different—a curiosity that wasn't entirely unwelcome.

'Okay' A short huff blew through their nose, eyes narrowing for just a moment in attempt to keep calm. 'Let's just get this over wi—'

"Hi! My name is _____. You must be Stevonnie right? Steven's cousin?"

The words hit Stevonnie like a surprise gust of wind.

Their eyes widen at the sight of you standing there. The warm glow of the sunlight that bathed you casted a golden halo around your figure.

In your hands you held a Tupperware bowl, the lid fogged from the warmth within.

Gaze was as warm as the Sun itself, smile soft and sweet—you were exactly Steven had described.

̶T̶̶h̶̶o̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶a̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶̶i̶̶c̶̶i̶̶p̶̶a̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶u̶̶s̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶r̶̶e̶̶a̶̶c̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶.

The sharp sting of jealousy began to shift, replaced by a begrudging acknowledgment of your kind disposition.

Something in Stevonnie melted while the other side tensed. The tight pull of jealousy mingling with awestruck joy tangled into an emotion that left them breathless.

Connie’s unspoken thoughts whispered, echoing Steven’s sentiment, but with a dawning realization.

Your presence was more than she expected. It wasn’t the competition she’d imagined; it was...something softer.

“Y-yeah! That uh, that’s me,” they managed, voice steady enough to pass for normal.

Amethyst gave Stevonnie an exaggerated wink from behind your back, and Stevonnie shot her an unamused look.

“It’s great to officially meet you,” you said. “Though I'm a little peeved Steven never told me about you. We can make up for it as long as I'm here! Ah! Feels like I already know you.”

The casual sincerity in your voice made Stevonnie's heart squeeze with something they refused to name.

“Likewise,” Stevonnie said, but their voice wavered, betraying the fusion’s internal war.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Time seemed to blur as the evening wore on. Stories were exchanged, laughter filled air, the sky outside slowly darkening with every passing hour.

Eventually it was time to go. You and Stevonnie walking along the shoreline toward Garnet's waiting silhouette in the distance.

The day's golden light fades, the sky deepening into hues of purple and blue as stars begin to reveal themselves.

The air was warm, the scent of salt carried on the breeze, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean created a comforting backdrop.

"I really had a good time today," you say, smile as genuine as ever. It sent a subtle ripple through Stevonnie, stirring emotions that were a blend of Steven’s joy and Connie’s reluctant acceptance.

Stevonnie's gaze lingers on you whenever you aren't looking, emotions wavering like a flame.

Steven's side of them basked in the warmth of your presence while Connie's shifted, unsettled by the pull she felt toward you.

The lingering envy that once felt sharp now dulled into a softer, almost wistful feeling.

Though even though the envy had dulled, replaced by an uninvited fascination, a faint sense jealousy remained.

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶n̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶c̶̶a̶̶p̶̶t̶̶i̶̶v̶̶a̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶a̶̶b̶̶o̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶e̶̶a̶̶s̶̶i̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶e̶̶c̶̶t̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶t̶̶h̶ ̶p̶̶e̶̶o̶̶p̶̶l̶̶e̶, ̶h̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶e̶̶f̶̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶̶t̶̶l̶̶e̶̶s̶̶s̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶o̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶l̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶i̶̶e̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶p̶̶a̶̶c̶̶e̶̶s̶.

Frustrated by the rush of warmth in their chest, they push back with a question

"So...what do you think of Steven?" Stevonnie asked, attempting to sound casual. Their eyes briefly dart towards you to gauge your reaction.

"He talks about you a lot—says you're a great friend. And I can see that, especially after you brought him that homemade veggie soup."

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶a̶̶c̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶a̶̶m̶̶i̶̶l̶̶i̶̶a̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶w̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶j̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶o̶̶u̶̶s̶̶y̶. ̶b̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶n̶̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶c̶̶a̶̶m̶̶e̶. ̶I̶̶n̶̶s̶̶t̶̶e̶̶a̶̶d̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶̶u̶̶r̶̶p̶̶r̶̶i̶̶s̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶f̶̶l̶̶i̶̶c̶̶k̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶o̶̶f̶ ̶c̶̶u̶̶r̶̶i̶̶o̶̶s̶̶i̶̶t̶̶y̶.

You look up at them. "Steven? He's great!" your voice rose as you began listing off his qualities. "Honestly, he's one of the most thoughtful people I know! Always listens even when it's something small. And he's so brave, even when scared. I've never met anyone who cares as much as he does."

Stevonnie felt a bittersweet pang. Your admiration mirrored everything Connie had once felt a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶e̶̶p̶ ̶d̶̶o̶̶w̶̶n̶ for Steven.

Hearing you say it, seeing how deeply you understood him, brought a strange comfort.

But it was more than that. The candor in your voice spoke of someone who saw the best in others.

̶S̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶o̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶s̶̶e̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶o̶̶o̶.

The realization struck Stevonnie quietly, an unwelcome but persistent warmth settling in their chest.

"Really?" Stevonnie replied in a controlled voice, though their heart felt so heavy that it might fall out their ribcage.

The question was innocent enough but the ache behind it was palpable; a tug-of-war between Steven's quiet yearning and Connie's deep-seated denial.

For it was no longer just about rivalry—it was the possibility that someone could understand her in the way you understood Steven.

A gentle laugh escapes you and you nod frantically. "Of course! He...he just got this way of making everyone feel important ya know? Like they matter. And his jokes—oh my gosh, he cheers me up even when I'm not having the best day. Not to mention when he gets excited about something he loves; you should see the way his eyes light up like the stars."

Stevonnie's heart skip a beat the admiration in your voice. Something within them stirs. Their stomach knots with butterflies, warmth creeping up to their cheeks.

  'No!' A flicker of defiance twists their lips. 'This won't do.'

"Well speaking of boys in general. You got a boyfriend?" Forcing a mischievous grin they give you a playful nudge. "A pretty girl like you must have one waiting at home right?"

The second the words slipped out Stevonnie's stride faltered, feet coming to a halt as an unsettling pang bloomed in them, unexpected and sharp.

It was a strange sensation—something close to jealousy and possessiveness—an uncomfortable mix that made their chest feel tight.

The thought of you loving someone else stings in a way that makes their brow crease.

Before they could make sense of it your laugh broke the silence. "A boyfriend? Gosh no!"

The sound pulled Stevonnie out of their daze. They looked up just in time to notice you had slowed and stopped a few steps ahead, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon.

For the first time you've met your gaze avoided to meet theirs, instead lingering on the ocean with an unreadable expression softening your features.

"I've never really thought about dating or romance," you admit, voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "I spent most of my time focused on getting good grades, get into college and make my family proud—doing everything I was supposed to do. And now that I've done that...I don't really know how to connect with people in that way." A small laugh escaped, quiet and self-conscious. "I'm just now getting better at making friends socially. Romance? That's a far-off dream for me."

Stevonnie's heart ached in an odd camaraderie. The weight of expectations, the search for belonging—it's all too familiar. They resonated with your vulnerability, recognizing theirself in your words.

̶I̶̶t̶ ̶c̶̶h̶̶i̶̶p̶̶p̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶a̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶a̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶g̶̶u̶̶a̶̶r̶̶d̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶t̶ ̶p̶̶i̶̶e̶̶c̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶y̶ ̶p̶̶i̶̶e̶̶c̶̶e̶.

Before they could respond you speak again, gentler this time, like a secret being shared under moonlight.

"But Steven...?" you began, your voice taking on a wistful tone. They watch as the forlorn shadow in your eyes melt away, replaced by something softer, more reverent.

Your eyes became dazed as your lips curled into a tender smile. "He's different. He makes everything feel easy...one of the best I've ever met—Gem or human. It's really not hard for people to fall for someone like him."

You let out a gentle sigh, the stars above seeming to mirror the flicker of emotion in your eyes as you looked up at the twinkling dotted sky.

"I sure know I have."

Stevonnie.exe has stopped working.

A mixture of relief and longing that they hadn’t expected flushed through their veins.

You...like like Steven? ̶A̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶f̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶n̶̶t̶, ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶l̶̶i̶̶k̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶f̶ ̶y̶̶o̶̶u̶ ̶s̶̶a̶̶w̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶o̶̶o̶.

You blink rapidly as if to shake off the rush of emotion that had swept over you and let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Sorry that sounded super cheesy," you rub the back of your neck. "I'm sure you don't want to hear that, with him being your cousin and all."

You turn back to Stevonnie, only to find them standing perfectly still, staring at you with wide eyes and a faint flush coloring their cheeks.

"Stevonnie?" you called their name, snapping them out of it. They jolted slightly as if waking from a dream and sport a wobbly smile.

 "Cool," is all they managed to choke out, awkwardly lifting both hands in an stiff thumbs-up gesture. "That's...really cool."

The response was clumsy but it pulled a genuine laugh from you.

Despite the confusion, you played along, giving your own thumbs-up before gesturing to where Garnet stood a respectful distance away. "Well it's getting late. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

Stevonnie could only nod as they swallowed hard.

̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶o̶̶n̶̶c̶̶e̶ ̶r̶̶e̶̶l̶̶u̶̶c̶̶t̶̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶e̶̶m̶̶o̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶n̶̶f̶̶u̶̶s̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶, ̶u̶̶n̶̶w̶̶e̶̶l̶̶c̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶ ̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶n̶, ̶b̶̶u̶̶t̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶g̶̶n̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶̶d̶.

Their steps were almost mechanical as they follow you down the beach, the soft crunch of sand beneath mirroring the dissonance in their mind and heart.

You filled the silence with a stream of light-hearted talk, a cheerful ramble that danced across topics as if trying to chase away any lingering awkwardness.

Stevonnie's responses were sparse—a series of hums, muttered agreements, and distracted nods.

Each step toward Garnet and the waiting car felt like a countdown, every word you spoke being another beat in the symphony of confusion humming in their mind.

It wasn't until Garnet was a few feet away did Stevonnie manage to gather themselves enough to say a proper goodbye. "Um...bye ____...I...I had fun."

You flash a smile as bright as the moon hanging in the dark sky. "I had a great time too. We should definitely do this again. Oh! And hopefully Connie can join us next time. I've been meaning to finally meet her, especially since I just finished a new novel series. You think she'd like if I brought them for her? It's a historical romance with strong female leads—the Bridgerton series, if you've heard of it. And if not, I have other books she might enjoy. I'm hoping we could maybe start a book club or have some discussions!"

The mention of the teen's interests sent a rush of warmth through Stevonnie. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about how deeply you cared.

Their posture stiffened ever so slightly as your words washed over them, smile faltering for just a heartbeat before forcing it to stay in place—a little too bright, a touch too tight.

For a moment the spark of Steven's enthusiasm fought with Connie's nervousness, creating a subtle conflict that flickered between excitement and something harder to define.

Though the mention of historical romance and strong female leads did spark an immediate interest on Connie's side briefly.

But as quickly as it came, the heaviness of more complex emotions settled in, making Stevonnie's heart thump with a sensation that felt uncomfortably like longing.

Fingers twitching, they tuck a loose strand of hair behind their ear—a move pure Connie.

"Y-yeah..." Their voice slipped on the first word before steading it. "Yeah...I think Connie would like that very much. She loves stories with strong characters."

You give a playful eyeroll as teasing grin spread across your face. "Well duh that's why I'm recommending it to her!" The fondness in your tone was unmistakable, and it seeped into Stevonnie's skin. "Steven says she's never without a book, usually something epic or full of history. Oh and her journaling! Always writing in it—filling it with thoughts and stories."

Leaning in a bit your eyes sparkled as you continued with enthusiasm. "Did you know she's into sword fighting? She trains with Pearl. And gosh her curiosity! He told me how fearless she is when it comes to going on new adventures. Always ready to explore even when things get wild."

Each word was like a tiny invisible thread that pulled at the fusion. Connie's pride in her achievements hummed under the surface, swirling with Steven's growing admiration for how deeply you appreciated someone he cared about.

You paused, a soft laugh escaping that caught Stevonnie off guard with its ease. "She's so smart too. Steven once mentioned how she'll share the most random but fascinating historical facts like it's second nature. And music—I don't know if she still plays, but he said she's got a real talent for it. I think it was the violin? I bet she could play classical pieces flawlessly."

Stevonnie's throat tightened, and for a moment, their composure wavered. Your words painted Connie in such vivid colors, filled with genuine admiration that was so tender—so pure.

̶F̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶r̶̶s̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶i̶̶m̶̶e̶, ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶ ̶m̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶r̶̶u̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶u̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶̶s̶̶t̶̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶, ̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶l̶̶e̶̶f̶̶t̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶e̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶e̶̶x̶̶p̶̶o̶̶s̶̶e̶̶d̶.

It was then a softer expression crossed your face as you looked down, shifting your foot in the sand did Stevonnie feel something give.

 "I don't know," your voice dipped with shy honesty. "I guess...I'm just really excited to meet her. She seems so incredible, even though I haven't even met her yet."

A small smile—hopeful and sweet—crossed your lips. "I hope she'll want to be my friend."

Stevonnie's emotions reached a breaking point.

A part of them, Steven's part, felt a surge of joy at how deeply you cared. But Connie's part—rooted in insecurity and longing—felt exposed and vulnerable.

̶S̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶n̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶l̶̶t̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶m̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶n̶ ̶e̶̶n̶̶v̶̶y̶ ̶o̶̶r̶ ̶j̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶o̶̶u̶̶s̶̶y̶; ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶i̶̶f̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶i̶̶n̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶m̶̶a̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶t̶ ̶f̶̶l̶̶u̶̶t̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶i̶̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶i̶̶g̶̶n̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶.

"You...really know a lot about her...huh?" There was a mix of surprise and appreciation in their voice. "That means a lot—to both of us. She's always looking for people who see her, not just what she does but who she is.""

A soft breathy laugh escaped them, almost involuntary, tinged with something bittersweet.

"I think she'd really like to be your friend too..." Stevonnie whispered, the sincerity catching even them by surprise.

̶A̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶s̶ ̶p̶̶o̶̶i̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶g̶̶u̶̶a̶̶r̶̶d̶ ̶d̶̶r̶̶o̶̶p̶̶p̶̶e̶̶d̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶m̶̶p̶̶l̶̶e̶̶t̶̶e̶̶l̶̶y̶, ̶r̶̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶a̶̶l̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶a̶ ̶q̶̶u̶̶i̶̶e̶̶t̶, ̶t̶̶e̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶p̶̶e̶.

You look up at Stevonnie with wide eyes as a look of disbelief flash across your face before melting into a heart-shattering smile. "Really? You think so?!"

You seemed to catch yourself, quickly clearing your throat, though it didn't quite hide the excitement still glimmering in your eyes.

"Yeah that's cool or whatever," your attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by the slight bounce on your heels.

Stevonnie couldn't help but laugh at the sight as Garnet joined in, her laughter low and warm.

̶F̶̶o̶̶r̶ ̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶ ̶i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶e̶̶v̶̶e̶̶n̶ ̶j̶̶u̶̶s̶̶t̶ ̶a̶̶d̶̶m̶̶i̶̶r̶̶a̶̶t̶̶i̶̶o̶̶n̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶y̶̶m̶̶o̶̶r̶̶e̶, i̶̶t̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶s̶̶o̶̶m̶̶e̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶a̶̶t̶ ̶m̶̶a̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶n̶̶d̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶i̶̶f̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶c̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶ ̶a̶̶l̶̶l̶̶o̶̶w̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶s̶̶e̶̶l̶̶f̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶f̶̶e̶̶e̶̶l̶ ̶i̶̶t̶.

And that's when you brought it up.

Almost as if the sudden thought appeared, you let out a casual laugh. "Oh and I just realized—Stevonnie huh? You now your name kinda sounds like a mix between Steven and Connie. Isn't that funny?"

The smile froze on Stevonnie's face. A jolt of panic shot through them and they balked. "W-what?!"

Stammering with wide eyes, they struggled to find their footing. "Wha? What do you mean? No it's not like that at all." Their voice tripped over itself, each word tangling into the next. "I mean I'm older than both of them—Steven and Connie. I don't even look like them if they were merged together hahaha!"

They gave an awkward laugh, though it sounded forced, the tension clear in their voice.

You blinked, your brows furrowing as confusion crossed your features. Before you could voice the questions forming on your lips Garnet's voice cut through the moment.

"____. You're going to miss the RoboDog movie marathon if you stay any longer," she called, her voice voice cool and even, yet somehow managing to carry a knowing lilt.

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the movie series, all confusion momentarily replaced by excitement.

"Oh! Right! Thanks for reminding me Garnet." You shot a quick glance back at Stevonnie, your expression brightening. "It was really nice meeting you Stevonnie! And tell Steven I'll call him later!"

You paused a beat as if considering your next words. Head lowering from fluster, the words tumbled out before you could stop them, "And...do you think maybe you don't mention what I said earlier? I think I'd die if he knew."

Garnet, standing beside you, puts a gentle hand on your shoulder with a knowing expression. "No worries. Steven won't know of your confession about your budding romantic feelings for him."

The tension from your body disappears at her reassurance making you release a breath of relief. "Thank yo—"

You freeze mid-gratitude. Your eyes widened as your head whips towards her, the question slipping out in a rush. "Wait—how did you know?!"

Stevonnie felt a rush of heat climb their neck at the full confirmation. The tension inside them strained, pressing against the fragile seams of their shared being.

Steven’s excitement warred with Connie’s panic, and under it all, a trembling awareness pulsed with each heartbeat.

Their nails dug into their palms as they struggled to hold steady. It was taking every ounce of self-control to keep from separating then and there.

̶C̶̶o̶̶n̶̶n̶̶i̶̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶s̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶u̶̶r̶̶g̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶b̶̶r̶̶e̶̶a̶̶k̶ ̶a̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶a̶̶n̶̶d̶ ̶h̶̶i̶̶d̶̶e̶.

Garnet's chuckled softly, voice tinged with a poetic clarity. "Love is felt even when it's hidden. It shines brightly even to those who cannot see."

She gives Stevonnie one last look—a look that conveyed understanding, as if urging them to accept what was brewing inside.

You blinked, caught between embarrassment and wonder as Garnet gently urged you toward the nearby car.

"W-wait! Hold on now! I can explai—"

Your stuttering attempts at saving face were met with another quiet laugh as she guided you inside, shutting the door with a quiet finality.

Stevonnie stood unmoving as the car rolled away, the sound of tires on sand growing fainter until all that remained was the soft whisper of the waves and the steady thump of their heartbeat.

The air was thick with unsaid truths that everything was changing.

It was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretched thin as the fusion watched the taillights disappear over the horizon.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, the tension in Stevonnie's frame snapped—collapsing into two separate forms.

Steven stumbled slightly, catching himself with wide eyes that remained fixed after where the car last was in a mix of awe and confusion. His cheeks were pink, emotions an open book.

Connie stood beside him with a downcast gaze; her fingers curling into the fabric of the skirt she wore as her heart ached with a bittersweet awareness.

The soft press of the fabric in her hands grounded her, kept her from spiraling further into what-ifs and whys.

Cool breeze bit at her skin, but she didn't flinch, heavy heart thudding in her chest with a realization she couldn't yet voice.

It was as if a door had opened, letting in the rush of emotions she’d created and kept locked away all in one day, mixing with the echoes of your admiration and her own conflicted feelings.

Steven's eyes stayed fixed on the empty stretch of road—a soft, wistful ache in his gaze.

"So," he whispered after a beat, breaking the stillness. His voice quivered low and uncertain. "What did you think of ____?"

Connie's heart thudded painfully as she turned to look at him, the moonlight casting long shadows across his face.

Her eyes softened as she saw the flush in his cheeks and the hint of hope in his expression. It mirrored a feeling she recognized all too well.

Words were caught in her throat all tangled up in emotions she hadn't even begun to sort through.

Both confessions—having feelings for Steven, dare say even admiring Connie—it reverberated in her mind.

So much it came with the stinging realization that tinge of jealousy she'd ignored was more than she wanted to admit.

That now, mingled with that envy was something new—something she wasn’t sure she could deny any longer.

"What I think...?" she started, the words trailing off as she searched for something true to say.

Steven's hopeful, expectant eyes met hers, and for the first time she felt the truth settle heavily in her chest.

There was no escaping it now—the feelings she thought she’d buried were surfacing, mingling with the unexpected warmth she now feels when she hearing your voice or seeing your smile.

A soft rueful smile tugged at her lips, and she let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

"I'm thinking how bad is it to say I see why you're smitten."