#so know the difference between when to go and when to stay and where to do the most good

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I saw your post about bugout bags and like ... bracketing the Gestapo Doorknock thing, when did the "correct" response to a natural disaster become to immediately flee and go into refugee mode? The negative fantasy here is heroically saving yourself while your idiot neighbors die, instead of making the kinds of community connections that people actually use to survive and respond to disasters.

I get what you are saying about community connections being the best path to resiliency, but you should very much flee from floods and wildfires when at risk, to name a few. Ideally while making sure your neighbors are also getting out of Dodge, all assuming there has been ample warning for this particular disaster. But sometimes, there are scenarios where you just have to go that very moment.

For all their talk of bugouts bags, I don't think the capital-P Preppers actually want to leave their home bunkers.

The same American Exceptionalism that causes people here to have Lone Wolf apocalypse fantasies also makes them think they can survive a hurricane in a coastal flood zone.

There is an element of humility required to leave one's home possibly permanently. But that's the key difference, here -- the Preppers aren't as interested in survival as they are in ushering in some kind of new World Order.

You see this type pop up every now and then as a hurricane sets its sights on a town -- the people who make it a big point to talk about what they'd do to a looter, should the Big One hit. These are folks who are not interested in becoming a refugee amd are fine with the risk of staying home, if it means they can shoot people from their little castles.

I also saw more mundane selfishness when I did hurricane rideouts for emergency operations in my old Florida city job -- part of our comms was to remind people that we could *not* send anyone out to help them peak-storm. Sometimes, fleeing (aka, saving yourself) is what keeps other people alive -- they don't have to risk their lives saving you because of your stubbornness.

So, I'm a bit skeptical of fleeing being a power fantasy. What's more likely to happen in a lot of natural disasters (especially those with lead times) is you either get renegade fools in clear danger refusing to leave, or uninformed folks not at risk who panic and think they need to evacuate when they should just hunker down. (And then there are the unfortunates who should evacuate and want to, but cannot because the system has failed them in some way.)

That said, for a longterm crisis, community absolutely is key. And even in a short-term crisis that requires an evacuation, one is presumably fleeing *to* some place that will have other refugees, and it's in one's best interests to build community even in these temporary conditions.

[xelinielx]

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.

[rafenextdoor]

CELIBACY - RAFE CAMERON

it’s been too long, celibacy what do you want? tell it to me dropped to my knees let me break your streak, i’m begging you, please

content: inspired on the song celibacy by partynextdoor and drake. includes smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, cream pie, rafe kinda creeps on reader a bit, MINORS DNI!!!!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing a fic let alone my first time posting on tumblr, please bare with me! still trying to figure out a good layout and there may be misspellings so i’m sorry. feedback is greatly appreciated!! and i’m opening my inbox to requests or questions to talk about rafe/drew/etc.

“you haven’t been fucked in how long?” sarah asked you a bit too loud, her eyes wide in shock at your confession.

you had just told her that you were going on over a year celibate. four hundred and thirty two days.. that’s if you were counting, of course.

it initially started when you and your boyfriend broke up. a drunken fight over jealousy resulted in three years down the drain. you were in no rush to find another sexual partner anytime soon because he was your first for everything. first kiss, first touch, first love. it took you a few months to go through the stages of grief but you got over him eventually, except your standards were different now. through your healing, you realized that you settled for a lot of things that you shouldn’t have.

one of those things being his performance during sex, or lack there of. it was mediocre to say the least, all about him, him, him. you tried to excuse it with the fact that you were his first too, and maybe he just didn’t know any better. but as time went on, nothing changed. he didn’t listen to your wants or needs, and certainly couldn’t fulfill your deepest desires. you were convinced that no one ever would, so you stayed celibate.

you hadn’t even kissed someone since him. you weren’t sure if you still remembered what it felt like.

“sarah!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, giving her a light smack on the arm to hush her. “talk quieter, i don’t need ward hearing anything about my sex life.” you scrunched up your nose at the thought.

“the man is ancient, he can’t hear shit.“ sarah replied nonchalantly. she looked over at her bedroom door to check that it was closed before turning back to face you. “we need to get you laid.”

you shook your head. it’s not like you hadn’t considered it, especially recently. you thought about that more than you’d like to admit, really. most nights ended with your hand between your thighs, attempting to get yourself off. you were always left unsatisfied, it was like an itch in a place you couldn’t quite reach to scratch on your own.

you had been on a few dates, but nothing ever clicked. kildare island was a small town so everyone knew each other. it was difficult, to say the least, to find someone without association to your ex. “i don’t know.. i mean, where would i even start? tinder?”

“hell no. that’s a breeding ground for creeps and losers.” she immediately dismissed. she grabbed her phone from beside her, pulling up a text thread from her boyfriend and flipping it around to show you. “there’s a party at topper’s later, you should come. maybe you’ll find someone there.”

you wanted to say no, but sarah was persistent. you knew she wouldn’t let this down anytime soon, so you agreed to appease her mind. “okay.. i’ll go.”

what you didn’t know is that the walls of tannyhill were thin, and someone was listening in on everything.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

coming here was a bad idea.

it didn’t take long for sarah to walk off to go find topper, leaving you on your own. you slipped through the crowd, finding yourself a drink but no luck with finding anyone worth your time. you quickly felt overstimulated, deciding to wander to the back of the house to find a place away from the crowd. you sat down on a couch, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly to pass the time.

sarah had driven the both of you there, which was definitely a mistake on your part since you knew she would stay the night with topper anyway. she probably thought this would leave you no choice but to go home with someone. you’d have to talk to her about that later.

you were fixing to send her a message that you going to walk home, calling it an early night, until a voice spoke in front of you.

“hey, sugar.”

your eyes left your phone screen, peering up to meet rafe towering over you. he was so close that you had to crane your neck to fully see him. you had always thought he was good looking, too attractive for his own good. he had on a tight-fitted, salmon colored polo paired with his go to khaki shorts, his hair swooped and parted to the side with gel. his arms were folded across his chest, biceps flexing with a sly smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you. “can i join you?”

you felt your shoulders drop in relief, thankful that it was him and not one of the other frat boys there. you and rafe weren’t close by any means, sarah made sure of that. any time he would try to talk to you while she was around, she would shut it down immediately. not that he really cared or listened to what anyone told him. he wasn’t going to let that stop him, which is why he needed to find a way to get you alone, and this opportunity had you falling right into his lap.

“rafe, hi. i was just about to leave.. actually.”

he had been watching you carefully since the moment you walked in. rafe was a calculated man like that, purposefully standing in the corner of the kitchen to keep track of you throughout the night. he saw a kid— who was way too confident— make his advances on you by offering a drink, but you declined and poured your own instead.

‘smart girl.’ rafe muttered to himself, taking a sip of his beer as you turned him down. you strutted off shortly after that, which he soon followed.

his face twisted in confusion. “so soon? you haven’t even been here an hour.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. it’s not like you could tell him why you were there in the first place. you already felt ridiculous for even considering this idea.

“just.. not really in the mood tonight.” you answered hesitantly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie, but something about rafe made you nervous. he was older than you by a few years, and you could feel it through his presence. the way he asserted himself, it made you feel small. submissive.

he nodded, his eyes taking you in as you sat there. you were wearing a little black top and a denim skirt so short that it should be illegal. you tugged down on it a bit in reaction to his gaze, the fabric not budging as it clung to your thick thighs. he noticed the apples of your cheeks turning pink at his stare.

rafe couldn’t help but smirk. you were so cute, so sweet. he liked seeing you like this— without sarah. how such a good girl like you could be so close with her was beyond him. what kind of friend was she to bring you here to get fucked by some stranger?

but he wouldn’t let that happen.

“i’ll take you to the house then. i can’t let you walk back this late.”

“no no, i’ll be fine. i-“

“that wasn’t a question.”

he reached out his hand, gesturing for you to grab it before you could protest any further. it would just be a quick ride back to tannyhill, right?

you exhaled, putting your smaller hand into his and letting him pull you off the couch. his fingers intertwined with yours as led you through the crowd, people’s eyes following as the both of you passed by. it was hard not to get attention being next to rafe cameron— girls wishing they were you and boys wishing they were him. you dropped your head hoping that no one would notice. that was doubtful.

the tension during the drive was thick. you felt his eyes on you more than the road, which had you squirming in the leather passenger seat. his car smelled like him— a mix of weed and cedarwood cologne filling your senses. you almost felt lightheaded with how nervous you were and he hadn’t even done anything.

on the other hand, rafe was loving every second of it. he had been dreaming of this moment before you were even single. his sisters pretty little best friend, always around but just barely out of his reach, was currently in the palm of his hand.

partynextdoor was playing on the radio, you could hear him humming along as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. you heard your phone ding with a text notification— from sarah.

sarah: hey i’m downstairs did you leave?

you: yeah, sorry i couldn’t find you

sarah: with who??

sarah: please don’t say brian

sarah: tell me if he’s hot at least

sarah: is his dick big?

“everything okay?” rafe broke the silence, gesturing to your leg that started to bounce.

“it’s sarah, wantin’ to know who i’m with..” you replied, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to type out a response to her.

he placed his hand on your knee, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop your moments. “just ignore her.” he said it like a suggestion, but his underlying tone told you that it wasn’t. you couldn’t help but listen to him, powering off your phone all together.

he kept his hand there, rubbing small circles with his thumb before he decided to test you, slowly going up your thigh. the warmth from his hand went straight to your core, your legs subconsciously parting just slightly at his touch.

“rafe..” you attempted to hide the shakiness in your voice. he was still driving, his eyes set forward. it took everything in him not to stop and take care of you right there— parking his car off the dirt road and bending you over in the backseat— but he held himself back. not only out of respect for you, but he wanted to do it the right way. he had been waiting to have you for years, he could handle a few more minutes.

“when’s the last time you’ve been touched like this, sweetheart?”

his fingers were now lingering between your thighs, slipping past that excuse of a skirt and brushing over your white panties. “and tell me the truth, or i stop.” he coaxed, his middle fingers pressed through the fabric, it becoming wet with your arousal. you whimpered at his touch, ashamed that you were reacting so easily to him. it was as if he already knew your body— knowing exactly where and how to you touch without even looking.

“i- i don’t know.” you breathed out. your head was fuzzy with desire, a feeling foreign to you.

“i think you do.” he thumbed your clothed clit, your head falling back against the seat in response. “i heard you and sarah talking earlier. could’ve came to me instead, y’know.” he continued to rub over your heat, just enough to tease you to the point it was nearly unbearable.

rafe sped up the rest of the way home, his patience running thin with his cock straining in his shorts. you were even more impatient, bucking your hips into his hand to feel some relief. you were beginning to make a mess on the seat and his fingers weren’t even inside of you yet.

before you knew it you were being thrown onto rafe’s bed, your legs hanging off the edge as he stood in between them.

“such a needy lil’ thing, hm?” he ditched your soaked panties on the floor, running his calloused fingertips over your slit to lather them with your slick. he parted your lips— so pretty and pink and glistening just for him. you were perfect.

he circled at your clit, applying pressure to the sensitive bud. you were pulsating beneath him as he started to rub faster, your thighs trembling. he pressed his middle finger at your entry, sinking himself in down to the knuckle.

rafe warmed up your cunt a bit longer before adding a second digit, pumping both in and out of you with determination— your soft moans spilling out like music to his ears. “god, baby, you’re drippin’ everywhere..” you whined at his words, which only made him keep going.

he curled his fingers, your gushy walls engulfing him as he hit that special spot inside of you. you could feel everything— the metal of his rings hitting against your cunt, the heat of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at it, the coil in your belly tightening.

“rafe.. i- i feel like-“

“i know baby, it’s okay. i got you.” he mumbled into your ear before he brought your lips to his, kissing you like it’s all he could do to breathe. you tasted so pure, like a ripe summer peach on his tongue— and he just wanted to swallow you whole. he continued to suck on your bottom lip until it was swollen, only pulling away to watch you.

and the look he was giving you— hungry with desire— was it took before you snapped, cumming for what felt like the first time. he held your hips in place with his other hand, holding you down to ride out your high.

you were gasping for air at this point, your bottom mascara smudged from the tears that prickled from your eyes. rafe looked wrecked as well, face pink and his once perfectly laid hair now disheveled. you didn’t know why until you sat up and saw it, the outline of his cock prominent in his shorts. your breath hitched, your doe eyes widening at the sight.

he grabbed your hand and brought it over his length, guiding you to rub it back and forth. even through the clothes you could tell he was bigger than your ex, surely. the thought alone had you pulsating.

“don’t by shy, sweetheart.”

you unbuttoned his shorts, pulling them down with his boxers to free his erect member. it hit his stomach, the tip red and leaking pre cum from being pent up for so long. he was girthy, thicker than his two fingers that you could hardly take a few minutes ago.

still, you pursued. you reached down to your sopping cunt, cupping it to lubricate your hand and bringing it to his cock. he let out a groan as you stroked him, jerking your wrist in smooth motions.

rafe was in heaven. you seemed so shy and innocent at first, he felt almost wrong for corrupting you like this— that was until you took it upon yourself to lick up the vein of his shaft, taking him into your mouth. you began to swirl your tongue, flicking it at his head to collect the dribbled cum. you went further, one hand at his base until you felt him hit the back of your throat. he rutted his hips, grabbing a fistful of your hair in a halt. if you kept going like this he wasn’t going to last.

“need to be inside you.” his voice was filled with desperation. he was panting at this point, a string of saliva following when he pulled you away. “please.”

you couldn’t finishing nodding your head before he went straight to work, pushing you flat to the bed with his weight on top of you. he ripped off your shirt, unclasping your lace bra in one smooth motion. rafe loved the feminine physique, and he was absolutely infatuated with yours. your tits were perky, full cups that sat sculpted on you just like a roman statue. your tummy was plush with a shimmery belly ring, the curves of your waist and hips drawing him in.

he brought his mouth to your breasts, lapping his tongue over one nipple as he fondled with the other. he was so eager— sucking and twisting at them like he was trying to feed. you were mewling, twisting under him at the sensation.

he slid his cock over your puffy folds. “saving this pussy for me, weren’t you?”

he slipped in raw, slowly filling you up inch by inch. he tried to go easy on you, but fuck, the way you were clenching around him it was like you were begging for more.

you were so stretched out, so full, and he still hadn’t put himself all the way in. he was thrusting into you at agonizing pace, not allowing you to adjust to his large size. you tried to scoot away, the pleasure being too much to bear, but he held you in place at the waist. he watched you engulf his dick in satisfaction— a creamy ring forming at the base.

“so fuckin’ tight— shit.” rafe moaned, squeezing his grip on the flesh of your stomach which would surly have bruises by morning. he finally bottomed out, hitting your core with a smooth trust. he was splitting you open with no mercy as his room echoed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“suckin’ me in so well, feel like a virgin. you sure you been fucked before?”

“not like this.” you barely choked out, turning your head into the sheets as he quickened his speed. your face was flushed— chin still covered in spit and brows furrowed together.

“mhmm, but this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby?” his voice was raspy, almost mocking. he was molding himself inside you, like you were made just for him— filling you perfectly as your walls took his shape. his tip skimmed your g-spot, making you cry.

he arched your hips off the bed, moving his palms down to the fat of your ass— kneading it as your pussy started to flutter around him. he could tell you were close, your bodies chest to chest as he pounded into you.

you let go, jolts running through you as you came around his length with the second orgasm coursing through you. you had your legs wrapped around him, milking him dry. he didn’t let up either, continuing to hit into you at a brutal rate.

“gonna nut inside you like you deserve.” his grunted with gritted teeth, burying himself inside of you. his movements stuttered as he reached his peak— cock twitching as he released, his cum spurting in you with thick, hot ropes. he stayed there for a moment, assuring you got every drop before finally pulling out.

he laid down next to you, heavy, ragid breaths leaving the both of you in sync.

“you won’t need to be celibate any more, sugar.”

[clydethesnake]

Hesitance

Summary: You and Abby spent the night together. It meant everything to you, but what about Abby? Loser!Abby Anderson x slightly mean!Reader

WC: 2.1k words

Warnings: angst, reader is slightly mean, internalised homophobia, comphet!Abby, implied smut at the end, happy ending

Abby never thought she’d end up here. 

You just made it so difficult. She could have gone her whole life without realising your feelings for her—could have gone her whole life without feeling your pillowy lips on hers.  

Then why did she feel so conflicted? 

She had soon come to the conclusion that last night never should have happened, that she should have never taken you by your hand and lead her back to her and Manny’s shared room. She should have never touched you. 

“What, so I was just an experiment?!” Abby’s hazy gaze is locked on you once you speak, outraged at the blonde’s dismissal.  

She stays silent, sitting on the edge of her bunk, almost curled in on herself.  

“Answer me, Abby.” You press, standing in front of where she is sitting. At the lack of an answer, you continue, “You can’t tell me last night didn’t mean anything to you.” You whisper. 

Abby’s head snaps up at the breathless words, the helpless tone in your defeated voice making her heart ache.  

But she can’t bring herself to speak.  

Last night was an experience for her. Had she been intending to use you as an experiment? Of course not. But somewhere in her tired brain just wanted to try it.  

For all her life, Abby thought she was straight. That her frequent thoughts of what if? were just the result of her hormones. With her teenage years left behind, what excuse would she use now? 

No, she wasn’t drunk last night, having decided not to drink due to her assignment early the next morning. 

She tries to rack her brain for answers, but it only comes out as a broken stutter, “I—uh...” She mutters your name, reaching out a hand. She's rarely speechless like this, so often having something to say. 

“What, Abby? What do you have to say for yourself? Because I’m not going to sit around for a straight girl who doesn’t know what she wants.” 

She stands from the bunk, seemingly having found the words, “I’m sorry.” She inwardly cringes at your unimpressed look. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking last night. It—it was a mistake, okay?” She holds her arms out in a placating gesture. 

“Fuck you, Abby.” You scoff, clutching your hands tightly in your cargos. Tears were pricking at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not in front of her. “You think I’m gonna accept that? I deserve to know why you’re throwing me away like last night mean nothing to you!”  

“I’m confused, okay!?” She finally shouts, watching you flinch back in surprise. Abby wants to kick herself for producing that reaction. 

“What, so you thought it would be acceptable to lead me on like that? Whisper sweet nothings in my ear like you wanted something more?” Fuck, you really wanted to punch her right now.  

You know it’s not her fault, not really. She was confused; all of these feelings new and different. But that didn’t stop you from being angry that she led you on this whole time, the time you spent together sharing secrets when Manny was out with a girl, the time you spent on assignments saving each other’s asses. And now the time you spent last night together, holding each other tenderly in your bed. 

She may want to say that it meant nothing, but you knew that was a complete lie.  

“No, of course not!” Abby attempts to defend, a hand coming up to her loose hair and tugging at the roots in frustration, as you did only the night before. 

There is silence between you.  

“I shouldn’t have come here...” You mutter, hands clenching in the fabric of your pockets. 

Abby’s eyes widen at your words, shaking her head, “Please...” Her voice is breathless as you turn towards the door of her room. She follows, long legs quickly catching up to you to stop your hand from reaching for the door handle.  

She holds your wrist gently, eyes searching yours pleadingly, “Please don’t go.”  

“What more do you want? You’ve said your piece.” You meet her eyes, frowning again. 

“Please stay tonight...” Abby whispers, head bowing slightly making her golden hair shield her face.  

“You know I can’t do that.” Abby stays silent, “You can’t seem to accept that you could be into women in some capacity, what makes you think that I’m going to keep putting myself through this?”  

You remove your wrist from her grasp at her silence, and open the door, leaving the blonde in the darkness of her room.  

---  

It’s another two weeks before Abby sees you again. 

You'd been out on assignment from Isaac for the past three days, staking out the Seraphite Island. Abby thought it was a stupid and dangerous task, the island known for taking lives. But what right did she have to stop you? 

And before that, well, you two weren’t exactly on speaking terms. 

It's only when you walked through the gates of the stadium that she met eyes with you again, taking note of your dishevelled and seemingly exhausted appearance. 

Her eyes soften at the sight of you, dropping your hunting rifle onto a rack and walking straight past her. 

“Wait—” She calls out your name, her long legs giving her the ability to catch up. 

You stop, back turned to her, “What, Abby?” Your voice sounds drained and tired. 

Shit. The blonde hadn’t actually come up with anything to say, determined to stutter out a weak offer before you decide to just walk away. “Manny—he’s—well, he’s throwing a mini sort of party and—” 

“A party. Really?” You turn to raise an eyebrow at her. 

“I just—I didn’t know if you’d want to come along...” She trails off, unsure of what your reaction would be. 

You only scoff, “No, I don’t want to go to a fucking party. I want to go to bed.” 

The soldier holds out her hands in a placating gesture, “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll just—I’ll leave you alone.”  

You don’t have anything to say to that, standing in the middle of a deserted hallway after a tiring and intense three-day mission. Abby walks past, not sparing a glance behind her broad shoulder. 

Fuck. 

Slightly reluctantly, you make your way back to your dorm, a converted room that used to be box seats you had somehow managed to snag. And no roommate. Even so, Abby’s noticeable absence weighed heavy. 

Going from spending so much time together, getting closer than ever, to suddenly being icy cold was an adjustment. One you didn’t want to make. 

It's not like you wanted to go straight back to her, what she did was extremely hurtful; how dare she take advantage of the feelings she knew you had for her.  

You had been content with knowing that you’d never have her—that she was straight and so clearly hung up on Owen. You'd made peace with it. 

But now she just had to reach straight in and pull those feelings right to the surface again. 

That night is all that’s on your mind, even when lying prone in the tall grass under slashing rain on that damn island. The night where you had been tucked in a corner of a party, just the two of you in your own little worlds, where she had taken you by your hand and eagerly led you back to your own room.  

Where she had ripped your clothes off as if she was starving for you. 

She may have never been with a woman before, but damn. 

You sigh heavily at the reminder, dropping the heavy, soaking bag at the foot of your bed. I need a shower. 

--- 

It's only when you’re lying in bed, still unable to think about anything else that you hear it.  

You swing your legs over the edge, the darkness of the room feeling suffocating. Who the hell could possibly be knocking at this time of the night? 

But of course, of course it was the only woman on your mind who came to the door. 

There she stood, long blonde hair cascading down her broad shoulders and henley straining against her arms. 

“What are you doing here?” You question. 

She pushes past, walking into your pitch black room and flicking on a lamp, illuminating her golden hair and Californian complexion. The sight did nothing for your racing heart, hearing it thunder in your chest. 

“I need to talk to you.” Her tone is far from the uncomfortable and quiet one from the night after you two spent together—instead, she was determined. 

You only sigh heavily, shutting the door and turning to face her. 

Abby takes a deep breath, her chest straining in her henley, “I—I lied.”  

You pause at that, unsure of what she means, “Huh?” What could she possibly have been lying about; she had made her feelings towards you very clear. 

She seems to realise that her words didn’t come out quite right, outstretching her arms in an almost placating gesture, as if you were going to lash out at her, “I mean—! I just meant that I lied the other day—when I said that that night was a mistake.”  

Your eyes widen at that, but she doesn’t allow you to speak, mouth rambling on, “I’ve been thinking about it since I said it and—and, I’m sorry, okay?” She takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes for the first time that night with more confidence, “You—you’re all I could ever want.”  

What? Your eyebrows raise in surprise at her words, attempting to speak but nothing coming out.  

The soldier looks worried at your lack of words, stumbling out a few more rambling words, “Of course, if that’s not what you want then I—I’ll leave right now.” She makes a move to walk past you, but you stop her, placing a hand on her strong bicep. 

“Don’t go.”  

She only nods, eyes scanning you with a gentleness that you’d not seen since the night you two shared. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You ask, voice almost a breathless whisper.  

Abby reluctantly raises a heavy hand to your waist, “I—I was confused. I needed some time.” She admits, and you suddenly feel bad for lashing out the way you did the morning after. 

You sigh, closing your eyes and forehead coming to rest on her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”  

She brings a hand to the back of your head, stroking through the strands, “What are you sorry for? I was the one who led you on.”  

Your hands on the back of her henley tighten, “Because I should have understood that you needed time.” 

Abby doesn’t respond, only encouraging you to lean up and look her in the eyes. 

“Even so, I was an asshole.”  

You can’t help but let out a small huff, reminiscent of a laugh, “You were a bit of an asshole. But I was too.”  

You both stand in the comfortable silence for a few moments longer, no longer feeling awkward in each other’s presence. The golden light from the lamp that Abby turned on only makes her look more beautiful, freckles like constellations on her slightly rosy cheeks. The sight only makes you want to kiss her more. 

“Kiss me, Abby,” You whisper. 

And so, she does, lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss, no rush or urgency that had been felt during your one night together. No hesitancy from Abby. 

She kisses you with all of her soul, all of her body, as if making up for lost time.  

You can’t help but raise a hand to her cheek, the other resting on a broad shoulder to tilt her head into a deeper kiss, one where you can run your tongue along the seam of her lips.  

Her breathy noise makes you dizzy, the feeling of her hand tightening on your hip and tugging ever so gently in your hair sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Even so, you pull away, still cradling her face in your hands, if only to admire her. 

“Take me to bed.” 

[eunoiaflow3r]

better than the books - ron weasley

requests open! please send some!

warning(s): language(?), smut, unedited, rushed ending

word count: 1.8k

request(ed): yes. “one day ron & harry are visiting hermione & reader in their dorm, where the girls are on hermione‘s bed, reading. reader‘s wearing the school uniform with a short skirt and when ron & harry come into the room they have a direct view of readers clothed pussy, because the skirt is so short. harry & ron are very flustered & ron can already feel the boner coming. harry takes this chance & says that him & hermione have to go get something & that ron & reader just stay here until they come back. idk how but somehow smut ensues where he’s fucking her soooo good & hard”

changed the request a bit but more or less the same lol.

————————————————————————

Ron almost couldn’t, no wouldn’t, well, didn’t want to, look away. You just looked so pretty. He and Harry had just come from the common room where they were playing games with Neville. After a few hours of it, they grew weary and thought of no better idea than to come bother the two of you. That was no small feat, of course, they had to do some sneaking and snooping as boys weren’t allowed in the girls’ dorms - but, sneaking was their specialty.

Now he was regretting it. You were sat on your bed, in a tight cami that hugged your torso - more specifically your breasts, where you wore no bra, and had short shorts on that left little to nothing to the imagination. Your smooth legs were pulled up so that your knees were in front of your chest, and you were reading a book that was laid lazily on the top of your knees. Your feet were tucked under the covers, but after no serious inspection there was no doubt that you weren’t wearing any panties.

Ron wanted to groan where he stood. There was no reason you had to look so good. He looked over to Harry. He wasn’t seeing what he was seeing. He was too busy arguing with Hermione about who knows what. That didn’t matter right now. He walked over and sat on the edge of your bed careful not to shift the blanket away from your feet. He knows how you get about your feet being cold - even though you didn't bother with socks at the moment. From this angle, he could see the way your knees pushed against your breasts making them perkier and bigger. He wished he could just reach out and touch them - feel the softness under his fingers. When he sat, you shifted to make room leaving him with a quick view of your hardened nipples. No doubt from the slight breeze in the room.

Ron felt like he was going to faint if he didn’t get this out of his system…and soon.

”How’s your book y/n?” He asks.

Unlike Hermione, the books you read were anything but educational and filled with knowledge. Most of the time they were pure sin on paper. Other times it was teeth rotting sweetness that would make any girl swoon to her knees. Right now, you were reading something that had a little bit of both with just a little more of that sin. You would never admit that to Ron though. I mean, how could you? It’s sort of embarrassing. What would he think if you knew you were reading such things? And what would he think if he knew that when you read the words on those pages…you were really thinking about him?

So you pivot. You close the book quickly and shove it under the pillow next to you.

”Nothing! I mean…nothing interesting…just science.”

“What's scientific about “Passions Promise?”

Fuck. He saw the title. You look over to Harry and Hermione and could see them talking. Much different than the bickering they were doing moments before. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying - they were being unusually quiet, but before you could attempt to eavesdrop or question them, they were getting themselves up and readying to leave.

“Hey!” You nearly leap out of bed - eager to put some distance between you and Ron. “Where are you guys going?”

When you got up, your shorts shifted so that he caught a quick glimpse of what was underneath. And not sure how possible, he was even harder than he was before. Unbeknownst to you, Harry shot Ron a wink before escaping through the door - luckily escaping your interrogation. You didn’t know it yet, but he was doing you a favor. He and Hermione were both sick of the two of you. The awkwardness, the tension. All because you couldn’t admit your feelings.

“Oh you know, we’re just taking a stroll. I’m hungry. Harry’s hungry. We’re going to go find something to eat.”

”But you hate sneaking around at night.”

”Well, yes, yeah, I know. If anything I won’t go much further than the common room. We’ll see, and we’ll be back.”

”But -“ Before you could finish she shut the door in your face and left you alone.

Well, not quite alone.

Ron watches as you turn around and loves the look on your face when you notice what he has in his hands. “Passions Promise.” He watches you take a step forward towards him and can’t help admire your body on the way over. Even though he could tell you were probably embarrassed and that just made him even more giddy. And horny. The things he would do to have you under him right now.

You were horrified. And he was smug. You could tell.

”Her body was on fire, his fingertips lit a blaze amongst her skin she had never felt with any man before. He pressed kisses down her stomach she swore could make her cum had he continued -“

”Ron!” You exclaimed cutting him off. You tried to snatch the book from him and found yourself between his legs while he held it over his head and away from you. Even though you had the height advantage, he was stronger. So so strong. That’s one of the things that turns you on about him. You know if he wanted to, he could have you off of him and away from the book in a second. But he wasn’t…he was playing a game.

You stopped trying to fight against him. It was no use. You were out of breath and so was he. His cheeks were a rosy color and his lips were puffed and bitten from trying to hold you back. He does that a lot. Bites his lip. It drives you crazy.

He looks at you and it’s as if his eyes are saying a million things his mouth aren’t. And boy did you wanna hear what his mouth had to say. You wanted to feel it too.

As soon as he walked into the room pajama pants low, sweater a bit baggy on his arms, and his hair disheveled in the way you loved - you wanted to jump his bones. He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - and he didn’t even know how handsome he was.

You felt as his hand - warm and comforting, made its way to the back of your thigh and pulled you forward. You took that as a hint to place both of your knees on either side of his waist and straddle him. He helped you get comfortable and you felt his hands wander.

Ron was in heaven. The girl of his dreams was in his lap and he honestly didn’t have any thought to be nervous. He just wanted you. His hands made his way up and down your thighs until finally he felt comfortable enough to grab your ass and squeeze. He smiled when he heard you softly moan. He could feel your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So is that what you want Y/n?”

”What?”

He brings one of his hands to your stomach lightly massaging the area.

”Kisses down your stomach you swear could make you cum?”

”Ron…”

He started kissing your neck and he could feel as you started to grind against him.

Why have you guys never done this before? Why did he wait so long?

He made his way down your neck and then down your chest. He started sucking a spot onto the top of your breast he knew would leave a mark but he didn’t care

“Tell me Y/N…”

“Yes Ron, please.”

And honestly, that’s all he needed before he stood up with you in his arms and laid you on your back. He kissed you - it was hot and sweet and feverish. He went back to trying to kiss his way down but you had other plans.

You can admit that you were a little impatient. You had waited so long for this the foreplay was the anticipation of you two finally being able to do this. Your hands went down to find the waistband of his pants and he bucked forwards once he felt your hand accidentally, or not so accidentally brushing his dick.

He helped you take them off and went to kiss you before grinding himself against you. Your shorts were long gone. You both moaned at the contact. You needed more.

“Please Ron, please just fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

As he pulls down his underwear you grab a condom from your bedside drawer. He raises his eyebrows at you cheekily but takes it. You watch as he rolls it on and your mouth waters. He was big, curved and just…perfect.

You pull him down to your for a kiss by his neck and he kisses you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He prods as if asking for permission and you nod. You both moan when he’s fully inside and before you know it he has a rhythm going and he’s hitting that spot inside of you. This was better than any words on paper or scenario you could imagine.

This was real, this was tangible. What you’ve wanted for so long was finally happening. It felt so good that you never wanted it to stop. His moans were like music to your ears and you started to think of things you could do just so you could hear them again.

There wasn’t a prettier picture to Ron then what was under him. Well, who was under him. He swore he would love to see your beautiful face twisted up in pleasure for the rest of his life, as long as he was the one who could always pleasure you.

His hand trailed down to your clit which caused you to squeeze around him tighter. He nearly came on the spot but he wanted to wait until you came first.

You were shaking. The penetration plus the stimulations was just too much for you to handle and quickly you were cumming around his dick.

“Fuck, Ron, please fuck I’m cumming.”

“It’s okay baby let it go. Cum for me.”

You came and felt as Ron gently pulled out to cum as well. If you weren’t so tired you’d make a move to cover up but, you were properly fucked out.

Once Ron caught his breath he found your shorts and helped slide them back onto you.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N.”

“Shut up.”

He smiles to himself and gets himself situated as well. Before he could talk to you and and try and discuss where you guys stood now, the door was creaking open and Fred, Harry, and Hermione were coming through.

“God it reeks of sex in here what on Earth -“ Fred starts before eyeing you and Ron. “Oh finally I was starting to think you didn’t have the balls Ronny boy I -“

Ron leaps up and starts to push Fred out of the room.

“Alright that’s enough of that everyone! Show’s over. Y/N, I will see you tomorrow love and I’m expecting a recap of that wonderful novel of yours. We can talk about what it all means -“

“Or maybe reenact what it all means.” Fred interrupts cheekily.

[movingmusically]

Good Girl

Synopsis:

A teasing comment in an interview changes everything. The internet notices. Austin notices. And when he offers to take control, to take care of you—you realise you want him to.

Word Count: 11.4k

Masterlist

The press tour had been a whirlwind—early mornings, long flights, endless interviews with the same handful of questions, just worded differently each time. But honestly? You didn’t mind.

For one, you were ridiculously proud of the movie. It had been the kind of project actors dream about—the perfect mix of challenge and chemistry, the kind of story that stuck with people.

And two, it had given you Austin. You’d spent months circling each other on set, tension building until pretending wasn’t an option anymore. By the time filming wrapped, you were his, and he was yours. Eight months later, nothing had changed.

The world had caught on quickly. You weren’t exactly hiding, but you weren’t shouting from the rooftops either. Still, between red carpet glances, the way Austin never quite kept his hands off you, and the way you smiled at him like he’d hung the damn moon—people knew.

Which was why, when the two of you sat down for another round of press, it was business as usual. You sat next to him, legs crossed, holding your microphone loosely while Austin lounged in his chair, one ankle resting over his knee, his arm draped casually over the backrest as he leaned in to speak. Across from you, the interviewer, Josh, was flipping through his notes, clearly enjoying himself.

“So, were you guys rebels growing up? Did you ever get into trouble? Or were you good kids?”

Austin let out a small chuckle, tilting his head as he thought about it. “I feel like I was a fairly obedient, good boy, yeah.”

Josh’s brows lifted in amusement. “Really? You never got into trouble?”

Austin shook his head, shrugging. “Not really. My biggest thing was that as soon as somebody told me to do something, I wanted to do the opposite. Like, I liked cleaning my room, but the second my parents told me to do it? Didn’t wanna do it anymore.”

Josh nodded. “Ah, classic.”

“But I never snuck out or anything. I also didn’t have to because my parents were really cool. My mom always said if I told her everything, she’d support me, give me her opinion, but she never ruled with an iron fist.”

Josh hummed in approval before turning to you. “And you, Y/N? Would your parents say the same?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said without hesitation, smiling. “I was the goodest girl. Never in trouble, always doing what I was told. If someone gave me instructions, I followed them exactly.”

Josh chuckled, nodding along. Beside you, Austin shifted in his seat, his hand flexing where it rested on his knee, but you barely noticed.

“I mean, I never tested boundaries,” you continued. “If you told me to sit somewhere and not move, I’d stay there until you came back. Even if it was hours later. I was just like that—I listened, I followed directions, I never needed to be told twice.”

Josh let out a slightly strangled laugh. Austin coughed into his fist.

You frowned at their reactions but kept going.

“I always liked knowing what I was supposed to do. Like, rules? Loved them. Structure? The best. I never questioned authority, I just wanted to please people. Like, making my parents proud? That was the best feeling in the world. I thrived off it. Just tell me what you expect, and I’ll do my absolute best to be perfect.”

Josh made a weird noise that sounded like half a laugh, half a choke. Austin pressed his lips together, eyes slightly wider than before.

“…What?” you asked, blinking between them.

Josh coughed. “No, nothing, that’s, uh—very… admirable.”

Austin nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Very admirable.”

The conversation moved on, the interview wrapped up. That night, you and Austin didn’t think much about it. It had been just another stop on the press tour, blending into the dozens of others you’d done over the past few weeks.

It wasn’t until the following week that everything changed.

You were in the middle of a quiet morning—coffee, a slow start, a rare moment of peace before another packed day—when your phone buzzed.

Emma: LMFAOOOOO

You frowned at the screen, confused.

You: What??

Emma: Sis. You broke the internet and I don’t think you even know why.

A pit of mild concern settled in your stomach. You glanced up from your phone. “Babe?”

Austin hummed, flipping a page in the book he was reading. “Yeah?”

“Emma’s saying I broke the internet.”

Austin’s eyes flicked up, brow furrowing slightly. “Why?”

Your stomach tightened slightly, but before you could respond, another message popped up.

Emma: Check Twitter. Actually, no. Here. Let me do the work for you.

A flood of links followed.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over your phone before clicking the first one. The moment the words registered, your stomach dropped.

@randomuser1: THE INTERVIEW JUST AIRED AND I SWEAR TO GOD Y/N DOESN’T KNOW. AUSTIN KNEW. JOSH KNEW. THE INTERNET KNOWS. BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW.

@subtextqueen: Y/N: “I was the goodest girl, I’d sit still for hours if you told me to.” Austin, gripping the armrest of his chair: deep breath. Josh, short-circuiting: nervous laughter. THE WORLD: screaming into the void

@smutficreader69: NO BECAUSE THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN. SHE JUST OUTED HERSELF AS THE MOST SUBBY SUB EVER WITHOUT EVEN REALISING IT AND AUSTIN IS TRYING SO HARD NOT TO LOSE HIS MIND ON CAMERA

You froze, eyes locked on the screen. “Oh my God.”

Austin, finally curious, set his book down and leaned over your shoulder. “…What?”

You whipped around to look at him, wide-eyed. “The internet thinks I—” You stopped, pressing your lips together, then groaned. “Oh my God.”

Austin squinted at the screen, scanning the tweets. It took him all of two seconds before he burst out laughing.

Like, actual, full-body laughter.

You smacked his arm. “Austin!”

He barely even registered it, leaning back, wheezing. “Baby…” he managed between laughs. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know!” you insisted, heat creeping up your neck.

“I know,” he said, grinning. “That’s what makes it so good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t believe I said all of that on camera.”

Austin wrapped an arm around you, still chuckling. “Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “It’s not a bad thing.”

You exhaled, peeking at him. “I just didn’t realise.”

His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, his expression still amused but softer now, more thoughtful. “Have you ever thought about it?”

You frowned, still feeling the heat in your face from the absolute chaos happening online. “About what?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “About… what they’re saying.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “No. Not like that. I mean, I knew I was a rule-follower, but I never thought—” You gestured vaguely at your phone, which was still lighting up with notifications. “I never thought it meant anything.”

Austin hummed, his fingers still gently stroking the back of your hand. “It makes sense, though.”

You gave him a look. “Does it?”

He chuckled. “Baby, you do like rules. You like knowing what’s expected. You like making people happy.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back against the couch. “I mean… yeah. That’s just how I’ve always been.”

He smiled, his fingers tracing higher, skimming your wrist. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way his voice dropped slightly, just enough to make you aware of it.

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “You’ve never brought this up before.”

“I didn’t wanna assume,” he admitted. “And I didn’t think it really mattered. But… watching you say all that? Baby, I was losing my mind.”

You flushed. “Austin.”

“What?” His grin was boyish, teasing, but his fingers on your wrist were not. “You have no idea how much I wanted to take you out of that interview and—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your whole body going warm. “Oh my God.”

His laughter rumbled against your palm before you let him go, sinking further into the couch. He watched you for a moment, his teasing expression shifting into something more serious, more curious.

“Have you ever wanted that?” he asked, voice lower now, like he was testing the waters.

You thought about it. Really thought about it.

Had you ever wanted to let go like that? To hand over control, to not have to think, just follow? You weren’t sure you’d ever considered it before, not in so many words, but the way your body reacted to Austin’s touch, to his voice—

Your stomach flipped. The thought should’ve felt ridiculous, but it didn’t. It made sense. It wasn’t just about liking the praise—it was something deeper.

You liked knowing what to do. You liked when things were clear, when you didn’t have to guess or hesitate. And when Austin took control—when he guided you, when he told you exactly what he wanted—it felt... right.

Had it always been like that? Had you always liked that feeling?

Your stomach tightened.

“…Maybe,” you admitted softly.

Austin studied you, his fingers now barely ghosting over your pulse point. “We don’t have to,” he murmured. “If you’re not into it, if it’s not something you want—”

“I do,” you cut in, surprising yourself. Your throat felt dry, your pulse kicking a little harder. “I think… I do.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something thoughtful, something knowing. His thumb brushed over your wrist, slow and deliberate.

“We’ve got a packed day,” he murmured, voice lower now, curiosity still dancing in his eyes. “But… we can talk more about it later.”

The implication sent heat curling in your stomach. You swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah.” Your voice came out softer than you expected. “Later.”

Austin smirked, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting go. “Looking forward to it.”

And just like that, the moment shifted back to normal—except now, there was something else there, lingering beneath the surface.

The press tour was over.

No more early morning flights, no more crammed schedules, no more sitting under hot lights while answering the same five questions in slightly different ways. After weeks of moving from one city to the next, you were finally home.

And yet—

You still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

Austin had been completely normal for the rest of the press tour. That was the problem.

He hadn’t brought up the conversation again—not once. Not a single teasing remark, not a knowing smirk, not even a look that suggested he was thinking about it. He’d just carried on as if nothing had changed.

Except it had.

It was in the way your stomach flipped when his voice dropped just a little lower than usual. The way your skin tingled when he touched the small of your back.

The way you caught yourself watching him more than usual—wondering what was going on inside his head.

Austin wasn’t the type to jump into something without thinking it through. If he hadn’t mentioned it, there had to be a reason. Maybe he was just waiting for you to bring it up. You swallowed, curling deeper into the couch.

It had been hours since you’d gotten home, but you still felt unsettled. Like something was waiting just beneath the surface, hovering in the quiet between you and Austin.

Speak of the devil—

You glanced up as he walked in from the kitchen, two glasses of whiskey in hand. He wore an old, well-worn t-shirt and sweatpants, a stark contrast from the designer suits he’d practically lived in for the past few weeks.

You accepted the glass as he sat down beside you, tucking one leg under the other, settling in like this was the first time he could breathe in weeks.

“Feels weird being home, huh?” he mused, taking a slow sip.

You hummed in agreement. “Like I forgot how to just… sit still.”

His lips twitched. “You? Miss ‘I follow instructions perfectly’? I don’t believe it.”

Your stomach flipped.

You shot him a look, heat creeping up your neck. “I knew you were thinking about it.”

Austin smirked against the rim of his glass. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Your heart stuttered. You set your drink down on the coffee table, suddenly unable to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you.

Austin exhaled, setting his own glass down before shifting closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch.

When he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, it was slow. Unhurried.

You sighed against him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His hand came up to your jaw, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone, tilting your head slightly.

And just like that, you followed.

You let him adjust the angle, let him take control of the kiss exactly how he wanted—and you liked it.

Austin hummed, breaking away just enough to let his breath ghost over your lips. His fingers traced down, skimming your wrist—just like he had that morning in the hotel.

He tilted his head, studying you, and then—

“You like that, don’t you?”

You froze.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

Austin’s eyes stayed on yours, patient, waiting—not pushing, just watching.

Your breath was shaky when you finally answered.

“…Yeah.”

His lips twitched, something warm flickering in his gaze. His fingers squeezed lightly around your wrist, not tight, not forceful—just present.

“Good.” His voice was soft, smooth, edged with something deeper. “Because if we’re gonna do this, I wanna do it right.”

You swallowed hard. “Right?”

Austin nodded, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “I’ve been doing some research.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, amused. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Heat bloomed in your chest. “I—I just…” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You researched?”

His lips twitched. “Of course I did. You really think I’d jump into something like this without making sure I know how to take care of you?”

Something about the way he said it—take care of you—made your stomach clench.

You swallowed. “What did you find?”

Austin smirked. “You really wanna get into that now, sweetheart?”

Your face burned. “I mean—I should know, right?”

His smirk softened, turning into something more sincere. “You should. And we will talk about it. But before anything else, I wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

You nodded quickly. “I am.”

Austin gave you a look. “No, I mean really comfortable. This only works if you feel safe, if you know you can always stop things if you want to.”

You bit your lip. “Okay.”

His fingers traced the inside of your wrist again, grounding you.

“There’s something called the colour system,” he murmured. “It’s simple—green, yellow, red. Green means you’re good, you’re enjoying it. Yellow means slow down, maybe check in. Red means stop—no questions asked.”

You stared at him, your heart thudding against your ribs.

He was serious.

Not just about doing this—but about doing it right.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, curling around your ribs.

“You really thought about this,” you murmured.

Austin smiled. “Of course I did.”

And that was the moment you knew.

This wasn’t just some passing curiosity, some fleeting experiment.

Austin wanted to take care of you.

And you wanted to let him.

A slow exhale left your lips, your body settling into the realisation, letting it sink into your bones.

Austin’s thumb traced over your wrist again, his touch light, thoughtful. Still watching you. Still waiting.

That same familiar warmth curled in your stomach—the same pull that had been there from the moment this conversation started.

You looked up at him, and he must have seen it in your eyes.

Because the next thing you knew, he was kissing you.

The movie had long since become background noise. You weren’t sure what was happening on the screen anymore—not when Austin was kissing you like this.

You were curled into his side, legs tangled, fingers slipping into the fabric of his t-shirt as his lips moved against yours, slow and deep. It had started soft, unhurried, but now there was something heavier beneath it.

His hands skimmed over your waist, his thumb brushing just beneath the hem of your top before his fingers flexed, gripping you just enough to make your breath hitch.

Austin noticed.

Of course he did.

He pulled back just enough to let his nose brush against yours, his fingers still resting warm and firm on your skin.

“You still good?” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t move in again. Instead, he waited—watching you, giving you the space to process.

You knew what this was.

This was the moment—the point where you could still pull back, still pretend like none of this had changed between you.

But you didn’t want to.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

Austin exhaled, dragging his fingers higher, slow, deliberate. “I need you to remember something for me, sweetheart.”

You shivered. “Okay.”

His thumb traced circles over your ribs, grounding. “I’m taking the lead here. But you?” His eyes stayed locked on yours. “You’re in control.”

Your breath caught. “I—”

“You say red, I stop.” His voice was smooth, but firm. “You say yellow, I slow down. Green means you’re good.”

You nodded quickly, pulse kicking. “Got it.”

Austin gave you a look.

“Say it back to me, baby.”

You licked your lips, heart pounding. “Green means I’m good, yellow means slow down, red means stop.”

Austin’s fingers squeezed at your side, approving. “Good girl.”

Heat flared through you at the praise.

He noticed.

His lips twitched like he was fighting a smirk, but he let it slide for now. Instead, his fingers traced slow lines up your back, settling at the nape of your neck.

You hesitated for a moment before grinning, trying to lighten the moment.

“So… do I need to call you sir or something?”

Austin let out a low chuckle, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin. “Only if you want to, baby.”

You swallowed hard, but your grin didn’t fade. “You have a preference?”

His fingers tightened, just slightly. “I like hearing you say my name when you’re like this.”

Your breath hitched.

His name. Not sir, not anything else—just Austin.

Something about that made warmth curl through your chest. Like it was intimate, just between you and him.

You swallowed hard, nodding.

Austin smiled, kissing you again—slower this time, like he was savoring the way you were melting against him. His hands mapped your waist, your back, his lips pressing firmer, deeper.

Everything was so much more intense now, knowing where this was headed.

Then, he pulled back.

You blinked, dazed. “What—?”

Austin smirked, his hands dropping to your thighs as he leaned back against the couch.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said, voice slow and deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your breath caught.

Then—

“Sit on the edge of the bed and wait for me.”

Heat rushed through you.

Austin let the words settle between you, his expression calm, patient, but expectant.

He was watching you so closely, waiting for any hesitation.

But you didn’t hesitate.

You hovered for a second, your lips brushing his, breathing in the heat between you. Your fingers curled at the hem of his shirt, like maybe—just maybe—you’d stay a little longer.

Austin’s hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip, his voice a warm hum against your mouth.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped. You swallowed, then slowly pulled back. His gaze followed you as you stood.

And then—

His hand smacked your ass, light but undeniable.

You gasped—not in shock, but in pure, giddy surprise. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

Austin grinned, tilting his head at you, pleased.

“There she is,” he murmured.

Your heart hammered.

His smile only widened as you turned and ran off to the bedroom.

He didn’t follow immediately.

You could feel him waiting—making you anticipate, making you think about what was coming.

And God, it was so much worse than if he had just followed you right away.

The bedroom felt different like this.

It wasn’t like before—when you’d stumble in together, tangled up in laughter and kisses, pulling at each other’s clothes in a rush to get to the bed.

Now?

Now, you were waiting for him.

You sat at the edge of the bed, exactly how he’d told you to. The air felt warmer against your skin, every inch of you aware of the anticipation curling in your stomach.

He hadn’t followed you immediately.

It had only been a minute or two—long enough for your breath to steady, for your skin to prickle with awareness. You weren’t nervous, not really. Mostly, you just wanted.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled your focus.

Your eyes were already on the doorway when Austin stepped inside, his movements slow, unrushed.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there.

Watching.

The flickering light from the hallway cast shadows over his face, but you could still see the way his gaze dragged over you, taking his time, letting the moment settle between you.

He exhaled slowly, voice smooth, assessing.

“…Look at you.”

Your stomach tightened.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he stepped further inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

Austin took his time crossing the room, his steps slow and measured. Not hesitant—never hesitant. Just deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel every second of the space closing between you.

Your pulse kicked hard as he came closer, your eyes locked onto his, unable to look away.

He was still in the same sweatpants and t-shirt he’d been wearing on the couch, but there was something different now. Something in the way his body moved—loose, controlled, completely in command of the moment.

By the time he reached you, the anticipation curled so tight in your stomach you thought you might tremble.

Austin stopped just in front of you.

He didn’t touch you immediately. Instead, he just stood there, looking at you. Letting you feel the weight of his presence, his focus.

Your breathing shallowed out, but you didn’t move—not because you weren’t allowed to, but because you didn’t want to. Because you wanted to be right here, locked in this moment, waiting for him to take that last step.

And then, he did.

One hand lifted, fingers skimming so lightly along your jaw before settling firmly at your chin.

A controlled touch.

Not rough, but deliberate.

His thumb traced a slow path across your cheekbone before tilting your chin up, guiding your gaze back to his.

Your breath caught.

Austin hummed, almost like he was committing this moment to memory.

“…Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, thumb pressing just slightly against your skin.

The words sent a hot, unshakable pull straight through your core.

You weren’t even sure you breathed before he leaned down, his mouth brushing against yours, so soft you barely felt it—

A tease.

A test.

Like he wanted to see if you’d chase him.

Your fingers curled at your sides. You wanted to.

Austin chuckled, the sound warm, knowing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his free hand skimming over your knee, tracing.

“Tell me how you feel,” he murmured.

A deliberate check-in. Not because he thought you’d hesitate—but because he needed to hear you say it.

Your pulse pounded. “I feel good.”

Austin’s lips quirked. “Yeah?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

His thumb stroked over your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.

“Good.”

His hand drifted lower, fingertips ghosting over your collarbone, slow and unrushed.

“You’re doing so well for me already,” he said softly.

You shivered.

His knees bent slightly, his posture relaxed but controlled as he brought himself closer, lower. Enough that you didn’t have to crane your neck too much, just enough to keep you looking up at him.

You weren’t sure who exhaled first before his lips were on yours again—firmer this time, undeniably leading.

Guiding you into exactly what he wanted.

And you?

You followed.

Austin’s lips moved slow and sure against yours, deepening the kiss just enough to pull you further under.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your cheek, a gentle contrast to the firm grip still holding your chin in place.

Leading.

Guiding.

Watching how you responded.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He let it linger, breathing against your lips for a second before his fingers tilted your face just slightly to the side, exposing more of your neck.

You let him.

He hummed lowly, dragging the back of his fingers down the column of your throat, following their path with his eyes, like he was memorising you in real time.

His free hand, the one still resting lightly on your knee, squeezed.

A reminder.

“Keep your hands where they are,” he murmured.

A soft instruction.

Not forceful, not a warning—just a quiet expectation.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t hesitate. You stayed still, fingers curled into the blanket beneath you, even as his hands continued their slow, teasing path over your skin.

Austin smiled.

“Good girl.”

The words sent a hot, shivering pulse through you.

His lips pressed against the corner of your jaw, not quite kissing—just lingering there, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Your stomach fluttered.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His teeth grazed the spot just below your ear.

“That’s my girl.”

A thrill shot through you, unexpected and overwhelming, curling in your stomach so fast you barely had time to register it.

Austin chuckled against your skin, feeling the way you reacted before you even had the chance to process it yourself.

He always noticed.

The hand on your knee moved higher, fingers trailing up your thigh, featherlight but deliberate.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and controlled.

“I think you’re ready for the next instruction, sweetheart.”

Your breath shuddered. “Tell me.”

Austin smirked, pulling back just enough to look at you again, his thumb skimming one last time over your cheek.

“Lay back for me.”

Your pulse jumped.

Not out of nerves, but out of anticipation.

Austin didn’t rush you. He never did. He just waited, watching you carefully as you shifted, leaning back until your spine met the mattress.

His gaze dragged down the length of you, slow and approving.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, every inch of your skin flushed, exposed, waiting.

Austin hummed, low and thoughtful.

“Hands above your head.”

Heat curled low in your stomach.

Slowly, deliberately, you did as he asked, letting your arms stretch above you, settling against the sheets.

Austin’s lips quirked.

“See? You’re a natural at this.”

You exhaled sharply, your chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment.

Austin’s hands trailed over you, fingertips grazing down your stomach, tracing over the curves of your hips, mapping his way down with infuriating patience.

His mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone, your ribs—each one slower, more deliberate than the last.

His pace never changed.

No rush. No urgency.

Just complete control.

And you?

You could barely breathe.

Austin’s voice came, a warm murmur against your skin.

“You still good, baby?”

Your breath hitched.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Austin hummed in approval, his lips grazing the dip between your ribs before he lifted his head, letting his gaze roam over you.

“Now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hands tracing slow, idle circles over your hips, “I want you to do something else for me.”

Your pulse jumped, anticipation curling low in your stomach.

“Spread your legs.”

Heat flooded through you at the quiet authority in his voice.

You hesitated for just a second—not out of reluctance, but because you wanted to savor the moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, you did as he asked. Slowly, deliberately, you parted your thighs, feeling the cool air graze over your already overheated skin.

Austin’s breath hitched.

It was subtle, barely there, but you caught it. And that was the moment you knew—he was just as affected by this as you were.

His hands smoothed down your thighs, fingers pressing just firmly enough to keep you exactly as he wanted. His control was unwavering. He wasn’t just touching you—he was positioning you.

And then—His grip tightened. “Don’t move.”

Your breath stalled in your throat. Austin’s voice was still smooth, steady, but now there was an edge to it, something undeniable, commanding.

Your pulse thrummed against your ribs. Austin watched you, waiting, searching for any hesitation—but there was none.

So, when his fingers finally drifted lower, his touch was so unhurried, so deliberate, you thought you might lose your mind before he even started.

You wanted to shift, wanted to press up into his touch, but his words still echoed in your head.

Don’t move.

You clenched your hands into the sheets above you, breathing hard as he finally—finally—gave you what you’d been waiting for.

The first stroke of his fingers was agonizingly slow, a teasing drag through your slickness, spreading the wetness he found there.

Austin let out a low, satisfied hum.

“So good for me,” he murmured. “Already so wet, baby.”

Your whole body tensed, your thighs threatening to tremble against his hold.

He felt it. And he didn’t allow it. His grip tightened just slightly, a reminder.

Your breath came out shaky. “Austin—”

A sharp squeeze to your thigh. “Careful.”

The warning was gentle but firm, the kind that made heat rush straight to your core. You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay still.

Austin rewarded you immediately.

His fingers circled your clit with slow, devastating precision, never too much, never too little—just enough to have your stomach twisting with need.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, desperate to ground yourself.

Austin noticed.

His lips curved into a pleased smirk, his other hand dragging over your stomach, soothing you as his fingers kept their slow, ruthless pace.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “You’re taking it so well.”

You whined, your head tipping back.

Austin chuckled against your skin, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against your hip, his breath warm and steady, his grip still firm on your thigh—keeping you exactly where he wanted. But then, as his fingers circled with devastating precision, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you, and before you could stop yourself, your back arched.

It was instinct, reflex—your body responding to him before your mind could catch up.

Austin’s fingers stilled instantly.

The shift was so subtle, so controlled, that at first, you barely registered what had happened. But then he pulled away. Not roughly, not as a punishment, but with calm, deliberate intent. His fingers left your skin, retreating, while his grip on your thigh remained firm—a quiet reminder that he was still in control.

Your breath hitched, heat flashing through you, not just from frustration but from the sharp, sudden awareness that you’d broken the rule.

Austin exhaled, his smirk edging into something deeper, something knowing. He dragged his thumb in slow, lazy circles over your thigh—not to soothe, but to make you wait. To let the loss of his touch sink in.

“What did I tell you, sweetheart?” His voice was smooth, even, but there was a quiet weight behind it, something unmistakably firm.

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. “…Not to move.”

Austin hummed, pleased you remembered, but he didn’t give you what you wanted—not yet. Instead, his free hand traced idle patterns along your stomach, fingers dragging over your heated skin, but never quite where you needed him most. He was making you feel it, making you sit in the tension of the moment, fully aware of what had happened and what it meant.

“And what did you do?”

Your fingers clenched against the sheets above you, heat crawling up your neck. “I—I moved.”

“Mmm.” His fingers trailed lower, teasing, but never quite touching, his breath ghosting against your thigh. “You did, didn’t you?”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a fresh rush of heat through you. You wanted to squirm, to press your thighs together, to do anything to relieve the aching need he’d built up in you. But you knew better now.

Austin let the silence stretch, letting the moment settle between you. And then, just when you thought you might break from the waiting—

“Let’s try that again.”

And this time, when he touched you again, it was worse.

Slower.

More controlled.

Every movement designed to push you to the edge, to test how well you could follow.

And now?

Now, you didn’t move.

Not until he let you.

Austin’s touch was back, but this time, he wasn’t just touching you.

He was testing you.

His fingers teased right along the edge of where you needed him, the pressure just light enough to make your thighs tremble with restraint. The worst part? You knew he was doing it on purpose. You could see it in the way his lips curled at the edges, that slow, knowing smirk that told you he was watching, waiting to see if you’d break again.

But you didn’t.

Not this time.

You kept your arms where they belonged, stretched above your head, fingers curling against the sheets, muscles tight with effort. Your thighs stayed parted, exactly how he told you to keep them, your body held in perfect, obedient stillness.

Austin exhaled a quiet hum, his fingers tracing slow, measured circles over your clit. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s my girl.”

The praise sent a pulse of heat straight through your core, but you held firm.

Austin’s hand drifted lower, teasing through your slickness before pressing two fingers inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you with an unhurried precision that had your whole body tightening around him.

You gasped, your nails digging into the sheets. Your hips twitched—small, barely perceptible, but enough.

Austin’s movements didn’t stop immediately, but his rhythm shifted—not easing up, not punishing, just letting you feel the change. A silent reminder.

A pleased sound rumbled low in his chest, and he tilted his head slightly, observing you with that same sharp, calculated focus. “You feel that, sweetheart?”

The weight of his attention made your breath catch. He was always so attuned to you, always catching the smallest shifts in your body.

You swallowed hard, barely managing to nod.

Austin’s fingers curled just right, pressing into a spot that sent a sharp, pleasure-laced shock up your spine.

Your breath hitched.

His voice dipped lower. “You’re taking me so well.”

The words only made the heat in your stomach coil tighter, hotter. The pressure was building too fast, too intense, too much.

Your thighs tensed, your stomach quivered, your whole body on the verge of something devastating.

Austin felt it. He always did.

“Almost there, baby?” His lips brushed against your inner thigh, teasing, coaxing, but still in control.

You let out a breathy whimper, barely able to form words. “Y-Yes.”

His fingers didn’t slow. Didn’t ease up.

But he wasn’t letting you go just yet.

“Hold it for me.”

Your body shook.

Austin’s fingers kept pressing, circling, building, but the one thing you needed most—the release, the permission—he wasn’t giving it to you.

Not yet.

“Stay right there,” he murmured, his voice like silk over gravel. “Don’t come until I tell you.”

Your entire body locked up, trapped on the razor-thin edge of pleasure, every nerve burning with the effort of holding it back.

But you did it.

You held it.

Because he told you to.

Austin’s free hand slid up your stomach, his touch light, reassuring. “So good for me, sweetheart.”

His thumb pressed down harder, his fingers curling deep—

The world tilted.

You were unraveling, the pleasure cresting so violently your body nearly betrayed you—nearly—but you clung to his words, to the last thread of restraint, waiting, waiting—

And then—

Austin exhaled, his lips grazing your thigh as he finally, finally gave you what you needed.

“Come for me.”

The command sent you spiraling.

Pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and overwhelming, your body shaking as you let go, every inch of you surrendering completely to the force of it. Your breath came shaky, uneven, gasping, your thighs threatening to close around his hand, but Austin didn’t let you.

He held you open, held you through it, his fingers never stopping until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from you.

When it finally, finally subsided, you felt boneless, your limbs heavy, your skin flushed and buzzing.

Austin pressed a slow, lingering kiss against your stomach, soothing, grounding.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured.

You did.

A slow inhale, your chest rising, falling, settling.

Austin watched you carefully, his hands still warm against your thighs, his eyes dark but undeniably soft. “You okay?”

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath.

And then, a small, blissed-out laugh slipped from your lips. “Yeah.”

Austin grinned, leaning up until he was hovering over you, his lips just barely brushing yours.

“You did so well for me.”

Heat bloomed low in your stomach again, but this time, it was softer—a slow, warm glow rather than a burning need.

He lifted one of your wrists gently, running his thumb over the crease of your palm before guiding it down, down, down—

Letting you feel the way he wanted to bring you back.

His other hand followed, his touch warm, steady, easing the tension from your arms as he finally, finally let you move again.

Only then did you reach for him, instinctively pulling him closer.

Austin let you, pressing himself against you, covering you with his warmth.

And when he kissed you, it was unhurried, lingering, full of quiet satisfaction.

Your breath was still uneven, your pulse a slow, deep thrum in your ears, your body heavy with the aftershocks of pleasure. But Austin?

Austin wasn’t done.

You knew it before he even said a word. You could feel it. In the way his body still hovered over yours, the way his fingers still moved—never idle, never aimless. Just deliberate. Deciding.

You swallowed hard, already feeling the warmth start to build again, even though you’d barely recovered.

Austin hummed low in his throat, his fingers traced lower, skimming over your ribs, dragging over the curve of your breast before cupping you firmly, fully.

Your breath hitched.

Austin smiled, slow and satisfied. Like he was testing how sensitive you still were.

And when his thumb brushed over your nipple—you shuddered.

Austin didn’t rush. His hands moved with the same measured, deliberate control he’d kept all night—mapping you, exploring you, playing with you like he had all the time in the world. Then, his lips were on your breast.

Your breath stuttered.

He started slow, dragging his lips over the curve, breath warm, fingers still teasing and tracing, never quite giving you enough. Then, he licked—a slow, deliberate stroke over your nipple, wet and warm, so careful, like he wanted to see exactly how you’d react before doing it again.

Your body betrayed you instantly. Your breath hitched, your thighs twitching, heat bolting straight between your legs like a live wire. Austin smirked. He felt it. Of course he did.

He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back arching slightly as his hand squeezed your other breast, his thumb rolling your nipple between his fingers, keeping you trapped between two perfect sensations. He sucked, licked, flicked, each movement precise, calculated, like he was testing just how much he could unravel you with his mouth alone.

His breath was warm against your damp skin when he pulled off, lips twitching with quiet amusement as he took in the way you trembled beneath him.

Austin shifted, his fingers dragging down your ribs, your waist, your hips, like he was testing how sensitive you’d become. Your whole body shivered at his touch. His voice dropped lower, smoother. “Tell me your colour, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, barely able to think past the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Green.”

Austin hummed, pleased. “Good girl.”

Then, without warning, he pulled back.

Your breath caught as you watched him lean back onto his knees, reaching for the hem of his shirt. And then—he pulled it over his head.

Fuck.

The sight of him—bare, toned, gorgeous, every inch of him flushed with heat, the faintest sheen of sweat on his chest—made your stomach tighten, fluttering, wanting. Your thighs shifted.

His smirk deepened as he stood and kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him completely bare. You couldn’t breathe. Your eyes dropped—

And your stomach flipped.

Austin was hard.

Painfully, devastatingly hard.

For you.

And when his fingers wrapped around himself, a soft, helpless sound slipped from your throat.

Austin groaned, slow and low, stroking himself, taking his time, letting you watch. “See what you do to me?”

Your whole body flushed, the heat crawling down your chest, your stomach, settling low, low, low. You could barely think past it, past the way his hand moved, past the way his muscles tensed, past the way he let you take in every inch of him, knowing exactly what it was doing to you.

Austin exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he was just as wrecked as you were. “You like watching, don’t you?”

You barely had it in you to answer. “…Yes.”

Austin’s grin deepened. He leaned in again, one hand still lazily stroking himself, the other trailing up your stomach, between your breasts, wrapping gently around your throat. Not squeezing. Not holding. Just resting there. Letting you feel the warmth of his palm, the weight of his touch, the control of it. His lips hovered over yours, so close you could taste his breath.

“You ready for your next instruction, baby?”

Your pulse pounded, heat curling tighter in your stomach, everything in you locked onto him, onto the moment, onto the way his fingers flexed lightly around your throat. You swallowed, shivering beneath his touch.

“Yes.”

Austin’s thumb dragged over your pulse point, slow, approving. His voice came low, dark, commanding.

“Tell me what you want.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t know—God, you knew. But saying it out loud, admitting it, asking for it—that was part of the game, wasn’t it?

Austin’s lips quirked, like he could see your hesitation, like he knew exactly what was happening in your head.

His grip stayed firm around himself as he watched you, his strokes slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. “Come on, sweetheart.” His voice was soft, coaxing, but edged with quiet authority. “Use your words.”

His other hand shifted, fingers sliding lower, tracing over your collarbone, then lower still, skimming the valley between your breasts, dragging the moment out.

Your whole body tensed, trembling. Your nails curled into the sheets, your thighs twitching as you sucked in a sharp breath.

“…I want you to touch me.”

Austin’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed locked onto yours, steady, dark, unwavering. “Where?”

Your face flushed hot. “You know where.”

Austin tutted, shaking his head, clearly enjoying every second of this. His fingers traced over your stomach, light and teasing, never quite dipping lower. “I do,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “But I wanna hear you say it.”

Your stomach tightened. He was dragging it out, keeping you hovering right on the edge of desperation, making you admit exactly what you needed.

You swallowed hard. Then—

“My pussy,” you breathed. “I want your mouth on me.”

Austin groaned, his jaw tightening. His fingers flexed around his cock, the slow pull of his strokes matching the way his eyes raked over you, hungry, dark, full of nothing but want.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Look at you.”

Your breath caught, your body thrumming at the way he was looking at you—like you were something to be devoured.

Then—without breaking eye contact—Austin slid further down, shifting between your legs.

You barely had time to process it before his hands were on your thighs, holding you open, keeping you exactly how he wanted.

He was so close.

His breath ghosted over your already aching, throbbing heat, teasing, lingering, letting you feel just how close he was to giving you exactly what you needed.

You whimpered, breath shuddering.

Austin smirked. “You’re already shaking, sweetheart.”

Then—he licked.

A slow, wet, devastating drag of his tongue, pressing just enough to make your whole body jolt.

Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but Austin’s grip tightened instantly, keeping you open, keeping you where he wanted.

“Ah-ah,” he murmured, his voice rough, dark, indulgent. “Stay still for me.”

Your breath hitched.

He did it again, a slow, torturous flick of his tongue, followed by the softest, teasing suction around your clit.

Your whole body arched, a desperate, broken sound slipping from your lips.

Austin groaned, sucking harder, his grip tightening, keeping you locked in place as his mouth worked you over with calculated precision.

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your stomach tightening, the pleasure coiling low, deep, unbearable.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t going fast.

Austin was taking his time, savoring the way your body tensed, trembled, begged for more.

Your head dropped back against the pillows, a wrecked whimper spilling from your lips.

Austin chuckled against you, sending vibrations straight through your core. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You gasped, your hands twitching, aching to reach for him, to grab his hair, to pull him closer—

But you didn’t.

You remembered the rules.

You stayed still.

Austin noticed.

And he rewarded you.

His tongue flicked faster, the pressure increasing, circling, sucking, stroking—

You gasped, thighs trembling, vision hazy.

Austin groaned against you, his hands digging into your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you his.

Then—he pulled back.

A strangled, desperate whimper tore from your throat.

Austin grinned, his lips slick, his breath heavy. “You wanna come, baby?”

You were shaking. “Yes,” you choked out.

Austin tilted his head, dragging his thumb through the mess he’d made of you, barely applying pressure, just enough to drive you insane.

“Then beg for it.”

“Please, Austin.”

The words slipped from your lips, barely more than a whimper.

Austin grinned against your skin. “You can do better than that, baby.”

His fingers flexed over your thighs, keeping them spread, keeping you open. “Tell me exactly what you need.”

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering, voice shaking.

“Please, I—I want to come.”

Austin hummed, dragging his lips over the inside of your thigh, teasing, slow. “Where?”

Heat rushed through your chest, down your stomach, pooling between your legs. You could barely breathe past it. You whimpered, your fingers twisting into the sheets. “I want to come on your mouth.”

A groan rumbled in Austin’s chest, deep, wrecked, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

Then—he gave you exactly what you begged for.

His mouth was back on you in an instant, hot, wet, relentless.

His tongue flicked over your clit, faster now, harder, a devastating contrast to the slow, torturous teasing from before.

Your back arched off the bed, a wrecked moan ripping from your throat.

Austin held you down, kept you right where he wanted, kept you pinned beneath the weight of his control.

His tongue moved in perfect, ruthless strokes, sucking, circling, flicking, dragging you closer and closer to the edge—

You gasped, whimpered, your thighs trembling violently.

Austin could feel it.

His grip tightened, his tongue working you over with precise, practiced pressure, his groan vibrating against you.

You were so fucking close, dangling over the edge, the pleasure spiraling, cresting, blinding.

Your body locked up, your breath catching—

Austin felt the shift immediately.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t ease up.

Didn’t let up until—

Pleasure slammed through you, sharp and overwhelming, ripping you apart at the seams.

Your whole body shook, wrecked, trembling, your pulse thundering, your thighs squeezing against Austin’s grip.

Austin didn’t let go.

He held you down, held you through it, his mouth still moving, still licking, still pushing you through every last wave of it.

You let out a helpless sob, your vision white-hot, your body pulsing.

Austin groaned against you, licking you through every last tremor, refusing to let you come down easily.

You were panting, gasping, wrecked, every nerve still tingling, your body limp against the sheets.

Finally, finally, Austin pulled back.

His lips were slick, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He watched you carefully, his hands still warm on your thighs, grounding you.

His gaze dragged up your body, dark and heated, but laced with something softer, more thoughtful.

“You still with me, baby?” His voice was low, warm, edged with something indulgent but unmistakably careful.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah.”

Austin smirked, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over your hip. “Good.”

His hands skimmed up your body, slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of your skin as he moved.

“Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath shuddered, your pulse still pounding, your body still buzzing from the last orgasm he’d pulled from you.

The thought sent a ripple of heat through your core—because you wanted more. You knew you did. But your muscles were already trembling, every inch of you sensitive, flushed, wrecked.

Could you handle it?

Austin must have seen the flicker of hesitation on your face, because his touch softened, his gaze sharpening in that way it always did when he was reading you.

His fingers traced over your hip, soothing, grounding.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was warm, patient, steady.

You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

Austin hummed, shifting his weight, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your stomach. “Talk to me.”

You breathed, trying to gather your thoughts past the haze of lingering pleasure.

“I want to.” Your voice was soft, hoarse. Shaky, but sure.

Austin’s lips quirked into something softer, something knowing. “But?”

You exhaled, flushing. “I don’t know if I can.”

Austin smiled, dragging his lips up your ribs, your sternum, working his way higher.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby.” His voice was like silk, smooth and firm all at once. “You just have to let me take care of you.”

A slow exhale left your lips, your body instinctively relaxing beneath him.

You trusted him.

You wanted this.

Austin’s hand slid over your thigh, coaxing, encouraging, wordlessly reassuring.

“Just tell me,” he murmured against your jaw, his voice low, patient. “Green or yellow?”

Your stomach flipped.

You knew what he was asking.

You swallowed, exhaled.

“Green.”

A slow, approving hum rumbled from Austin’s chest. His lips brushed against yours—light, teasing.

“Good girl.”

Then—he kissed you.

Not gentle.

Not careful.

Deep. Consuming. Possessive.

Your body arched beneath him, your legs parting, welcoming him in.

Austin’s hand gripped your thigh, hooking it higher over his hip, adjusting you exactly how he wanted.

Your breath hitched as he rocked forward, teasing you with the thick, aching length of him, sliding through your slickness, pressing just enough—just barely—without giving you what you needed.

You whimpered, hips shifting, chasing him.

Austin smirked against your lips, his grip tightening, keeping you still.

“Uh-uh.” His voice was low, commanding. “You wait for me.”

Your pulse pounded, every muscle locking up with restraint.

Austin groaned quietly, adjusting his angle, his teasing measured, deliberate. Then—he pressed in.

A slow, steady push, stretching you, filling you, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

You gasped, your fingers clawing at his back, your legs trembling around him.

Austin let out a deep, ragged moan, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath uneven, his muscles tense.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

You weren’t sure if it was for you or for himself.

Maybe both.

His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you open for him, anchoring you beneath him.

You felt every inch of him, every slow pulse, every deep throb.

Austin’s lips brushed against your temple, down to your jaw, his breath hot, measured, steady even as his muscles trembled with restraint.

“You still doing okay, baby?” His voice was rough now, strained.

You nodded quickly, desperately. “Yes.”

Austin groaned, gripping your hip before drawing back—just enough—before thrusting forward, pushing deeper, pulling another gasping moan from your lips.

The rhythm was slow at first, controlled, dragging the pleasure out until you were whimpering beneath him, until your nails dug into his shoulders.

Then—he picked up the pace.

Deeper.

Harder.

Austin set the rhythm, and you followed.

Your body clung to him, heat tightening, winding, pressing, overwhelming.

The pleasure was almost too much, too sharp, too good.

Austin felt it.

He let out a low, strangled moan, his lips parting, his brows furrowing as he watched you, felt you, attuned to every tiny shift, every helpless gasp, every flutter around him.

“You close, baby?” His voice was lower now, breathless, edged with pure need.

You barely had it in you to speak. “Yes—”

Austin smirked, tilting your chin up, kissing you through it, swallowing your gasps as he drove into you harder, faster, deeper.

Your body shook beneath him, already sensitive, already teetering on the edge again.

Austin’s hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit, pressing, circling—

Your whole body locked up, the pleasure ripping through you again, sharper, hotter.

“Austin—”

His pace faltered, his grip tightened, his body pressed deeper.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, consuming, wrecking, tearing through every last nerve.

But Austin didn’t stop.

He groaned low in his throat, his grip on your hip tightening, holding you in place as he kept moving—deep, steady thrusts that sent aftershocks rolling through you, making you gasp, making your thighs shake.

You whimpered, still pulsing around him, still too sensitive, too wrecked—but Austin wasn’t done.

Not yet.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing against yours. His pace didn’t slow—if anything, it got rougher, more desperate, like he was chasing the high he’d been holding back all night.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, slipping from his shoulders to his biceps, feeling them tense beneath your fingers. Every muscle in his body was tight with restraint, trembling with the effort of keeping himself from losing control completely.

But he was slipping.

You could hear it in his breath, feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered, in the way his hips snapped against yours harder, deeper, a low, wrecked moan spilling from his lips when you clenched around him again.

Your body tried to shy away, the oversensitivity sending sharp, electric jolts through you—but Austin’s hands were there, steady, grounding.

His hand gripped your thigh, pinning you open, keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Stay with me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low, rough, barely more than a growl. “I know, sweetheart. You can take it. Just a little more.”

You whined, barely able to breathe past the overstimulation, your body helpless against the way he was still driving into you, chasing his own release now, his self-control unraveling thread by thread.

He buried his face against your neck, his breath coming hot and heavy, his groans turning into something almost desperate.

“Fuck—fuck—”

His hips slammed into yours once, twice, and then—

Austin broke.

A deep, wrecked moan tore from his throat as he drove himself deep, his body locking up, his grip on you tightening as he finally, finally let go.

You felt the heat of him spill inside you, felt the way his whole body shuddered with the force of it, how his arms trembled as they held you close.

Your body felt boneless, spent, trembling, your breath uneven, your mind lost in the haze.

Austin stayed inside you, anchoring you, grounding you.

His breath was still heavy, his hands slow as they traced over your skin, soothing you, easing you through it.

But even as the last tremors faded, you could still feel the heat lingering, still burning just beneath the surface.

Austin felt it, too.

He smirked, pressing slow kisses along your jaw, down your throat, his fingers still stroking your skin.

“You did so good for me,” he murmured against your collarbone.

Your body shuddered.

Austin exhaled slowly, letting himself rest against you for a moment, his body warm and heavy, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses against your shoulder. His touch was different now—gentle, reverent, like he was giving you a moment to settle, to breathe.

Carefully, he eased out of you, a quiet groan catching in his throat at the loss of warmth. His hands smoothed down your sides, grounding you, reassuring, as your body gave a soft, involuntary shudder.

You didn’t move. Not yet.

Your limbs felt loose, your mind still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion, the aftershocks still buzzing faintly beneath your skin.

Austin pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your ribs. He wasn’t in a rush, wasn’t pushing. He was just here, watching you, waiting.

Then, his lips brushed over your cheek, his voice low, coaxing.

“Talk to me, baby. How do you feel?”

You inhaled shakily, still catching your breath, still feeling the warmth of his body, the press of his hands. You swallowed, licking your lips, trying to find the words.

“…Good,” you murmured, your voice soft, slightly hoarse. “Really good.”

Austin hummed, his lips curving against your skin. “Yeah?”

You nodded, shifting just slightly, rolling your shoulders, feeling the way your body still trembled, still hummed with lingering heat.

Austin let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb stroking slow circles against your hip. “Think you can take one more?”

Your stomach flipped, your pulse jumping, your body already stirring with something darker, hotter, more desperate.

You hesitated for just a second, just long enough to feel the weight of the moment, the anticipation curling in your stomach. Your body was spent, sensitive, wrecked—but you wanted it. Wanted him.

You exhaled sharply, your voice shaky, but certain.

“Yes.”

Austin’s smirk widened.

“Good girl.”

Austin pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breath still hot against your skin. His hands trailed slowly down your sides, grounding you, even as the heat still burned just beneath the surface.

You exhaled shakily, your body still trembling from the last orgasm.

Austin hummed, satisfied, pressing a kiss to your other shoulder before murmuring against your skin—

“Turn over for me.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were already sensitive—wrecked, overstimulated, every nerve raw and frayed—but the way he said it, low and sure, made your body move before your brain could even catch up.

Slowly, you shifted, rolling onto your stomach, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Your breath shuddered as Austin’s hands immediately found your hips, guiding you, adjusting you exactly how he wanted.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers stroking over the curve of your waist, your lower back, down to your thighs. “Just like that.”

Then, softer—“Colour?”

You swallowed, heat coiling in your stomach, your body still thrumming from everything he’d already given you.

“…Green.”

Austin’s lips quirked, his touch growing bolder. “That’s my girl.”

You buried your face in the pillow, trying to steady your breathing, but then—

His fingers trailed lower.

A slow, teasing drag between your thighs, over the soaked mess of you, still throbbing from the last orgasm.

You jolted. “Austin—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, soothing, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back. His touch remained slow, steady, deliberate. “You can take it.”

Your body trembled beneath him, already teetering on the edge of too much, but it felt so good. The angle, the way you were stretched beneath him, every nerve ending focused solely on the way his fingers teased, traced, pressed—

Then—he pushed inside.

A slow, deep thrust of his fingers, curling downward, pressing against that devastating spot with unrelenting precision.

Your whole body jerked.

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp, your thighs twitching as the pressure built too fast, too sharp, too much.

Austin groaned softly, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, keeping you right where he wanted. “That’s it,” he murmured, stroking deep, coaxing, pushing you higher, higher, higher.

You whimpered, your body writhing, pressing into the mattress, your hips shifting involuntarily, chasing the pressure, the friction, the overwhelming sensation.

Austin’s pace stayed slow, unyielding, making you feel every stroke, every deep curl of his fingers.

A tight, relentless pressure coiled low in your stomach, sharp and insistent, an unfamiliar urgency creeping in, almost too much.

“I—” You gasped, a broken sound slipping from your lips. “I feel like—I need to—”

A flicker of panic shot through your chest. It was too much, too overwhelming, too unfamiliar. The pressure in your stomach coiled tight—

“Yellow.” The word left your lips on a breath, instinctual, unstoppable.

Austin reacted instantly. His fingers slowed, his free hand smoothing over your lower back, grounding you. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice steady, reassuring. “You’re safe. Talk to me.”

You shuddered beneath him, breath shaky. “It’s just—” You swallowed hard. “It feels like—I need to—pee.”

Austin paused—just for a second—but there was no hesitation in the way his fingers smoothed over your skin, keeping you grounded. “I know, baby.” His voice was warm, patient, laced with quiet encouragement. “You don’t have to fight it. Just let go.”

Your body trembled beneath him, caught between tension and release.

“You trust me?” Austin murmured, his fingers stroking over your hip, grounding.

“Yes.”

“Then let me take care of you.”

His hand resumed its slow, coaxing rhythm, gentler this time, guiding you back toward the edge. His voice stayed low, soothing, wrapping around you like silk.

“You’re doing so well for me.” A kiss to the back of your neck. “Just let it happen, sweetheart.”

Your whole body tensed, locked, trapped in the overwhelming crest of it, hovering right on the edge of something devastating.

Austin didn’t let up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed, his tone smooth but firm, his fingers pressing deeper, faster, until—

It broke.

The orgasm tore through you, white-hot and all-consuming, pulling a sob from your lips as your body surrendered completely. The release hit so hard your vision blurred, and then—

A rush of liquid warmth spilled from you, drenching his hand, soaking into the sheets beneath you, making you gasp at the sensation.

Austin’s breath hitched.

“Fuck—”

He groaned softly, working you through it, his other hand smoothing up your back, whispering soft praises as you trembled beneath him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with awe. “So fucking beautiful.”

Tears leaked from your eyes, your body sagged, completely wrecked, completely spent. Your breath came in uneven gasps, your limbs heavy, your skin damp with sweat and pleasure.

Austin held you, soothed you, his voice low, grounding. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You barely registered the way he eased his fingers from you, barely noticed the warmth of his hands smoothing over your back, coaxing you down from the high.

Everything felt distant. Warm. Floating.

Austin didn’t move away—not yet. He just held you, breathing slow and steady against your skin, letting you feel the warmth of him. His fingers smoothed through your hair, his lips brushing soft, lingering kisses along your spine, whispering quiet praises.

A deep, shuddering exhale left your lips as you slowly blinked back into the present, still feeling the aftershocks rolling through you.

Austin’s arms wrapped around you, his chest warm against your back, his lips brushing over your shoulder, still holding you, still anchoring you.

And when you finally, finally turned your head to look at him, his expression was pure awe.

“Baby,” he murmured, reaching up to gently brush a tear from your cheek. “That was—”

You swallowed, your throat tight, emotions swelling thick in your chest. “I…” You let out a breathless, dazed laugh. “I think you broke me.”

Austin chuckled softly, nuzzling against your temple. “Never, sweetheart.”

Then, softer—

“You are so fucking perfect.”

Austin stayed close, his body pressed warm and solid against your back, his arms wrapping around you like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. His lips traced slow, lazy kisses along your shoulder, up to the curve of your neck, his breath still a little uneven, but steadying.

His hands moved over you in slow strokes, smoothing down your arms, your back, your waist—grounding, reassuring. Not because you seemed unsteady, but because he wanted to. Because he needed to.

“You did so fucking good for me, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and warm, full of something deeper than satisfaction.

Your chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths, your limbs still heavy, still tingling with the aftershocks of everything he’d pulled from you. But there was something else now—a deep, settled warmth, a sense of being completely held, completely seen.

Austin shifted, slipping one arm beneath you, the other wrapping tighter around your waist as he turned you in his arms, rolling you onto your side so you were facing him. His blue eyes searched yours, checking, reading, waiting.

“How are you feeling?”

You exhaled a slow breath, your lips parting, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…Floaty.”

Austin smiled, his fingers brushing over your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle now. “Yeah?”

You nodded, sinking further into his warmth, his presence, his care.

Austin studied you for a moment, then pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

A sleepy hum left your lips as he carefully pulled back, shifting off the bed. You barely had time to miss the warmth of him before he was back, gently rolling you onto your back, pressing one more kiss to your stomach before grabbing a warm cloth to clean you up.

His touch was careful, slow, reverent.

And when he was done, he pulled the covers up over you, making sure you were comfortable before slipping back in beside you.

Immediately, you curled into him, your head pressing against his chest, your fingers lightly gripping at his side, as if holding onto the steady, grounding weight of him.

Austin exhaled softly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you in, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

“You still floaty?” he asked after a moment, amusement threading through the warmth of his voice.

You let out a small, contented sigh. “Mhm.”

Austin chuckled, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles over your back.

For a while, there was only silence—the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the feeling of his fingers smoothing over your skin, the warmth of his body keeping you cocooned in a soft, safe haze.

Then, his voice came, low and quiet.

“You know how proud I am of you, right?”

Your stomach fluttered.

Austin’s fingers found your chin, gently tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

“You trusted me,” he murmured, his gaze deep, his thumb brushing slow, thoughtful circles over your jaw. “And you let go. You let me take care of you.”

Your chest tightened—not with nerves, not with uncertainty, but with something softer, warmer, deeper.

“I liked it,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Austin’s expression softened into something almost unreadable—something that looked a lot like pure, unfiltered adoration.

His lips brushed against yours, a featherlight, lingering kiss. “I know, baby.”

And then, with quiet certainty—

“We’ll do it again.”

Your stomach flipped, excitement curling low in your belly, but for now, you were content to just be here, wrapped up in him, letting the warmth of his words settle deep into your bones.

Austin shifted, tucking you closer, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his arms tightening just a little more. “I’ve got you.”

And this time, when your eyes fluttered shut, there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind.

Because you knew—

He did.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

[arciam]

Underrated JayVik moments/lines (13/∞)

"You should come up with me. We're partners!"

...This well-meaning, painfully oblivious himbo is2g.

Don't get me wrong; it's great that Jayce wants Viktor to be included. But that scene as a whole, to me, has always been one of the most brutal when it comes to the developing disconnect between Jayce and Viktor.

It's the most unguarded with Jayce Viktor will ever be about his anxiety regarding the precarious spot he inhabits in Piltover and society as a whole, his damaged self-image... and yet there is not a shred of recognition on Jayce's face as to why Viktor would decline to make a public appearance in front of "all of them".

After all, they're partners, equals (and in Jayce's eyes, Viktor was never broken), so where's the issue?

This right here is a running theme throughout season 1 - time and time again, Jayce fully fails to assume Viktor's perspective and see what the world looks like through his eyes. Jayce knows he thinks the world of Viktor, but sadly, this blinds him to how differently they are treated, how broken Viktor views himself in anticipation of people's disdain, and above that, just how lonely Viktor feels.

How fully and truly forsaken he feels whenever Jayce fails to support him.

Jayce doesn't understand that Viktor needs him at all.

Once you recognise this, you see it in almost all of their scenes throughout acts 2 and 3. Even in some they don't share, such as, infamously, the sex scene.

(Even the one time Jayce appears somewhat close to this realisation, he says "now he needs me and there's nothing I can do" ...Jayce please. Even Mel understood that the only thing he would have had to do for Viktor was to not leave him alone, yet this pure-of-heart, dumb-of-ass boyfailure keeps wanting to do the most and thereby accomplishing the least. I love my man dearly but Christ alive...)

Thankfully though, it doesn't stay that way.

Because not only does Jayce eventually learn – in a very hands-on way – what the world looked like from Viktor's perspective by losing the function of his leg, clawing his way from the depths of the Fissures to the top of Piltover in maddening solitude (save for the gawking of unsympathetic entities). And not only does he learn that the „impossible dream“ as his mother put it, the beauty and the salvation he was chasing his entire life was Viktor all along.

He also learns that this same dream literally bent time and space solely to set Jayce on his path to Viktor. To save him from himself, to save him from loneliness –

because Viktor needs him.

"Only you can show me this" - Without you, I am lost.

And I believe the moment Jayce realised this, understood the depth and scale to which Viktor actually needed him, that's all there was. In the end, when given the choice, of course he was going to stay with Viktor over abandoning him ever again.

(Disclaimer: When I refer to Jayce as a himbo or a dumbass, I am not downplaying his intellect, only questioning why he's not using it sometimes.)

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13

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[i-dared-myself]

Crushes and Names

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by @thatgirlangelb : Hi love! Can i request a poly ot8 x 9th member where the boys start a relationship between themselves but don't include her in it at first, so she feels lonely and sad because she loves them too, so she starts going on dates with other men (could be other idols or not, whoever you want) to "forget" them and the boys get all jealous and say some kind of hurtful things to her (like she's a slut for sleeping different men) and so they have a big fight one day where she clarifies that she is a grown woman and can do whatever she wants with her love life and that she won't be staying there watching them flirt with other woman or with each other. At the end the boys finally confess and say they didn't include her yet on the relationship because they didn't want to come too strong about it and scare her off.

16+ Because talk of sex.

You hadn’t believed it at first. When you had discovered the rest of them were dating, that is. 

Firstly, because what were the chances that all eight were gay (or at least were attracted to men), liked each other, and had begun to date? It was difficult to wrap your mind around to say the least.

Secondly, because you liked them. There was eight of them in a relationship, and you weren’t in it.

It was slightly humiliating as well, but at least no one would know. No one would ever know about the relationship, so no one could comment about how pathetic you were.

Swooning after eight men who were all involved with each other was a new low for you. And they weren’t even discrete. 

“Really?” You rub at your forehead. “You have to do that here?”

Hyunjin glances up from where he had been making out with Felix. Both of them have swollen lips and hooded eyes. “What?”

“Nevermind,” you mutter, wandering off to the kitchen. Maybe you should move out of the dorms.

Chan walks in and presses a kiss to both Hyunjin and Felix’s foreheads. “Good morning.”

You crack some eggs into a pan, stirring it aggressively. These eggs are going to be scrambled and this is going to be your therapy.

“Good morning,” Chan calls to you. His dimples are showing as he sprawls across the couch.

You grunt something out in response, grabbing a plate from the cupboard. You ignore their murmurings of concern and dump your eggs onto the dish.

Jisung wanders in, yawning. His hair is all ruffled from sleep and he’s adorable. You want to kiss his cheeks and shower him in love.

He sleepily drapes himself across Chan’s lap, curling up with his head on Chan’s shoulder. He gazes at you drowsily, eyebrows drawing together. “What are you doing today?”

You shrug and shovel your breakfast into your mouth. “A date.”

That’s right. You were getting over them. You had a reservation at a nice, quiet restaurant with a cameraman from work. He was cute and maybe he wasn’t Stray Kids, but he would do.

Felix glances up. “A date? With who?”

“Someone from the staff.” You stand and place your dishes in the sink.

Chan strokes Jisung’s hair. “Staff? That goes against policy. People you work with are off-limits.”

You give him a pointed look. “Oh really?”

Jisung giggles and nuzzles closer to Chan. “Let her have her fun.”

Chan relaxes and smiles softly at Jisung. “Yeah, okay.” He looks over his shoulder to you. “Be quiet when you come home, okay? Just in case we’re asleep.”

You nod and sit on the couch. You pick up the remote and flip to a random show. You try to get lost in it, and not how Changbin and Seungmin come walking in with their arms linked. 

When the tv doesn’t distract you, you fish through your pockets for your earbuds. You turn on a show on your phone, tuning out the gushy men. Seriously, why do they have to be so sweet? It makes you wonder what it would be like if you-

Nope. You need to focus on the guy you’re going out with tonight, and move on. Moving on will be great for you.

Minho nudges you to get you to scoot to the side. Once you’re out of his way, he settles next to Seungmin and cuddles him.

Minho fucking cuddles with Seungmin.

You’re still trying to process thay when Jeongin bounces in, hyper already apparently. You don’t know how he has this kind of energy.

Jeongin tosses himself at Changbin, laughing as he’s swung around.

You feel sick. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s nice. He’s sweet and kind, and buys you your meal.

But he doesn’t have Felix’s sunshine personality. He doesn’t have Changbin’s soft heart, nor does he have Chan’s selflessness. He’s lacking Jisung’s cuteness and Jeongin’s boundless energy. He’s missing Hyunjin’s sassiness and Minho’s intensity, and he doesn’t have Seungmin’s smile.

You make up an excuse why you can’t do anything after dinner, abandoning the movie you were supposed to go see. You begin to trudge home when the rain starts.

“Excuse me?” A man holds an umbrella over your head, leaning down with a gentle smile. He says your name and taps your shoulder.

“Jinyoung?” you ask, recognizing him from the hallways. The GOT7 member nods at you, confirming his identify.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, looking around. 

“I- uh.” You swallow thickly. “I had a bad date.”

Jinyoung frowns, a pitying expression forming on his face. “That’s terrible. Want me to walk you home? You wouldn’t want to get sick from the rain.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” You shake your head and pat your hair. “I’m already wet.”

“Still,” he insists, taking your purse to carry, “I would hate it if someone as pretty as you got sick.”

You glance down sheepishly before forcing your gaze back to him. “Wow, that’s… Thank you. It’s unnecessary, but I appreciate it.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Jinyoung brushes some of your wet hair from your face. “Now let’s get you home.”

The walk is pleasant. There’s no awkward air between the two of you, and conversation flows naturally. He takes you right up to your doorstep, lips curled upwards.

“Thanks for taking me home.” You reach behind you for the doorknob.

Jinyoung leans down to kiss you. You startle in surprise and when he pulls away, you stare at him.

“Can I pick you up tomorrow?” Jinyoung questions. 

You fidget for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Seven?”

So you have a date with a man that might actually help you get over your other members. You’re nervous, which is a good sign, right? That means that this counts as something for you?

You wander inside, feeling giddy. You hang your jacket up and walk further into the dorms, smiling to yourself.

“So how was it?” Hyunjin distractedly asks you as he braids Felix’s hair. The braid is short and pathetic, but Felix leans into his touch.

“Good,” you answer simply. “I had fun.”

Changbin looks up from his phone, eyebrows pulling together. “I thought you said your date was with a staff member?”

“It was,” you reply, confused on where he’s going with this.

Changbin stares at you for a moment. “Then why did I see Jinyoung walk you home?” 

“Oh.” You blink before smiling to yourself again. “We just… ran into each other. We’re going out tomorrow. He’s really nice.”

Minho hums. “Or does he want something from you?”

You’re taken aback at his question. You’re sure that your bewilderment shows on your face, because Minho’s expression hardens.

“Sex,” he says bluntly. “Does he want sex from you?”

“What? No!” You shake your head and run your fingers through your wet hair. Or at least try to. “He was so nice!”

Chan glances over, sighing heavily. “I don’t think this is a good idea. If this gets out, it could ruin things.”

You raise your eyebrows. “We’re going there? Really?”

“Going where?” Chan asks. He lets out a loud exhale again. “We just-“

“You’re all dating each other!” you snap. “So don’t be worried about my image.”

Felix peeks his eyes open, no longer relaxed. “Do you… not support us?”

There’s an awkward pause that stretches too long. You want to tell them that you support. That you don’t hate this. That you just want more, and for you to be a part of it.

But you choke on your words.

Jisung looks disappointed. Not mad, but disappointed. “We’ll call you down for dinner.”

It’s a clear dismissal, and you nod slowly. You turn on your heel to go up the stairs, when there’s a knock on the door. You keep trudging upstairs, when Jeongin’s voice stops you.

“It’s for you.”

You warily approach and notice a man standing at the front door. Jeongin is eyeing him with a look of disdain as his gaze immediately falls on you.

“BamBam?” you say in surprise. The second GOT7 member you’ve seen today. “What- Can I help you with something?”

You step outside to hear whatever it is he’s come here for. You shut the door behind you, not wanting to upset your group further by forcing them to look at you.

“Jinyoung forgot to give you this back.” BamBam holds your purse out. “And he told me to give you his number, too.”

You take your purse back from him, clutching it tightly. “I, uh, left my phone inside. And I don’t have my number memorized. But, wait a second!” You open your purse and rummage through it before pulling out a pen. “Here.”

BamBam scribbles down on your bare arm before capping the pen and returning it to you. You tuck it inside your purse and murmur out your thanks as he walks away. 

You open the door again and shiver as you step inside, having been out in the rain again. With no shelter.

You examine the writing on your arm as you grab your phone off the counter, inputting his number into your contacts. You fire off a text of ‘Hello’ and take a random picture of Jinyoung off the internet as his contact photo.

“Slut,” Seungmin scoffs. The others are all staring at your arm in a mix of horror and disgust.

Your eyes widen. “I’m the slut? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the ones sleeping with seven other men!”

Seungmin stands up, dislodging Jisung, who had been on his lap. “At least I knew them for more than a day before sleeping with them! Look at you!”

Your bottom lip trembles. You know that your mascara is runny and that your clothes are messy. “I was in the rain. Without an umbrella!”

Minho rubs his fingers over Hyunjin’s buzzcut. “I saw Jinyoung’s umbrella. Why are you wet from the rain if he walked you home?” He roll his eyes and looks away. “Whore.”

You see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. The entire group seems to be conflicted, but you push it aside. You run back outside to the pouring rain and sit yourself on the doorstep.

And you cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As it turns out, being out in the rain isn’t the wisest idea. Now you’re sick, and ill, and you feel like garbage.

But you won’t tell the others. You haven’t spoken to them since your argument and you refuse to be the one to break.

So you lean back into the stool you’re seated on, letting the makeup artist work. Recording is today, and you’ve worked hard for this. You will not let your stupid crush on them or the fight impact your work.

So you away in place on the recording set, utterly exhausted. Your entire body is being weighed down by your lack of sleep from a feverish night. 

You force yourself up the steps and wait for the director’s countdown. Then you launch yourself into the movements as the choreography expects, only to be interrupted by a violent sneeze.

The crew laughs lightly, and you mutter apologies. The director cheerily tells you to take it from the top, assuring you that it’s no big deal.

You sneeze again while walking back up the stairs, before erupting into a fit of coughs. Your body shakes and your lungs ache before it comes to an end.

“Are you okay?” Changbin calls from the other side of the empty warehouse that was rented out for filming.

“Yeah,” you dully say. You shiver and resist the urge to rub at your face. Your makeup would be ruined and you would be murdered.

You finish recording and sit off to the side while you wait for the others to be done. You snuggle into the oversized hoodie you’re wearing, closing your eyes.

Then there’s a nudge at your shoulder, and Felix is standing over you. His eyebrows are pinched together in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Just sick,” you mutter. You twist your fingers as you watch Seungmin go through his solo shots.

“Sick?” Felix repeats. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and curses softly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You blink at him. “Why would you care?”

Felix’s throat flexes and he squeezes your shoulders. “Because I like you? Because we like you? Shit, we really care for you.”

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears and you duck your head. “You’re- You’re not fucking with me?”

“No,” Felix seriously says. “I’m not fucking with you.”

“But-“ You hiccup, “Seungmin called me a slut. And Minho called me a whore.”

Felix strokes your hair softly, frowning. “Yeah, and Chan yelled at them. You know that they’re not great with emotions.”

Jeongin wanders closer, smacking Felix’s arm. “Why didn’t you make her cry? And before our special surprise? I mean… What?”

Felix shakes his head fondly. “It’s okay. I already told her.”

“Aw, but I made a card and everything.” Jeongin pouts and crosses his arms. Then he brightens. “Wait, does that mean you’re our girlfriend now?”

“Give her a minute to think about it!” Felix scolds. “You’re so impatient!”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes as he approaches. “You ruined our plan, didn’t you?”

“What?” Minho furiously demands. “The plan is off?”

“The plan is off?” Changbin yells. “So I should burn the shirt?”

“We’re taking shirts off?” Jisung shouts, gripping the hem of his shirt. It’s already halfway over his head when Chan realizes.

The staff are covering their eyes and hiding from Jisung and his abs. Seungmin is staring very obviously and Minho is biting his knuckles.

“Okay,” Chan loudly says. “Let’s finish everything that’s happening here at the dorms.”

“Everything?” Minho’s gaze remains on Jisung’s body. 

Felix sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “At least wait before we’re in private before being so horny, okay?”

“No, but I scared the staff off,” Jisung points out. He licks his lips sensually. “So, like… We’re in private…”

“No,” Hyunjin sharply says. “We’re not having sex here.”

“Wait, like all of us?” You frown, trying to figure out the logistics. “Okay, that’s weird to think about.”

Jeongin blushes. “I mean…”

“No!” Chan pulls at his hair, seemingly on the verge of a breakdown. “Let’s go to the dorms before we have this conversation!”

“Have you guys had sex yet?” you question curiously.

Seungmin shakes his head. “No. We were waiting for you, but didn’t want to ask you out yet. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You smile warmly at him. 

Jisung is yanked forwards at the belt by Minho and moans. Changbin kisses Hyunjin for some random reason, and Chan grabs Changbin and Minho by the ears, dragging them out to the van.

“Oh, I’m your girlfriend by the way,” you tell Jeongin as you buckle in.

“Oh really?” Jeongin casually says, as if this is a normal conversation. “That’s great!”

“We’re scrubbing your arm when we get home,” Felix tells you, looking at where Jinyoung’s number is still on your arm.

Your eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I have a date with him tonight.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @mbioooo0000

[bueckersstuff]

SICK & TWISTED

Part I Part II Part III Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

The sting of your slap still burned on Paige’s skin long after you walked away. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched. She just stood there, staring at the empty space where you had been moments ago, her ears ringing with the echo of your voice—furious, heartbroken, done.

She had done it. Executed her plan perfectly. You had fallen for her, just like she wanted. You had let her back into your life, allowed her to inch her way between you and Natalie, and in the end, you had betrayed the one person who truly loved you.

She won.

So why did it feel like she lost?

Paige swallowed hard, the weight of everything she had done crushing down on her all at once. She had planned this for so long, so meticulously. She had watched from afar as you moved on, built a perfect life without her. It ate at her. She told herself it was about revenge, about making you feel what she had felt all those years ago—the ruin, the isolation, the regret.

It started the moment she saw your name pop up on social media again, years after you disappeared without a trace. She hadn’t let herself think about you in a long time, burying any remnants of the past beneath layers of distractions—basketball, fleeting flings, numbing routines. But when she saw you, looking so content, so fucking happy, something inside her cracked.

You weren’t supposed to be okay.

You were supposed to carry the same scars she did.

That night at the bar, the kiss she stole from you—it had cost her everything. Azzi. Her teammates. Her peace. Paige had convinced herself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a stupid mistake fueled by alcohol and reckless impulse. That you were just another face in a crowd, an unfortunate casualty in her own downfall.

She could still see the betrayal in your eyes, the way your voice cracked when you begged Natalie to stay. You weren’t hers to ruin—you never were. And yet, she did it anyway. Because Paige never let herself lose. Not in basketball, not in life.

Her chest tightened, an unfamiliar ache spreading through her. Guilt? Regret? Something deeper? She didn’t know. All she knew was that for the first time in years, she had no idea what to do next.

She turned on her heel and walked away, her hands clenched into fists.

Because this time, it almost feels like she didn’t win.

Paige sat alone in her apartment, the weight of what she had done pressing down on her chest like an unbearable force. The room was dark except for the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the window. Her fingers hovered over her phone, but she couldn’t bring herself to type anything. What would she even say? That she was sorry? That she didn’t mean it? That it was a mistake?

None of it would matter.

Her mind was a mess, a relentless loop of everything that had happened—the slap, the screaming, the way your voice had broken when you begged Natalie to stay. It played over and over, each time cutting deeper. She had done a lot of fucked-up things in her life, but this… this was a different kind of destruction.

Her phone rang, breaking through the suffocating quiet.

Unknown number.

She thought about ignoring it, but something in her gut told her to pick up.

“This is Paige Bueckers speaking.”

There was silence at first, a pause heavy with something she couldn’t name. And then—

“We need to talk.”

Paige recognized the voice instantly.

Natalie.

For a second, she considered hanging up. She had expected you to come for her, to lash out at her again, to tell her how much you hated her. But not this. Not her.

“What do you want?” Paige said, voice stiff.

“Meet me.”

Paige sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Natalie shot back. “Meet me at the coffee shop on 5th. Thirty minutes.”

Then the line went dead.

Paige almost didn’t go. Almost.

But something gnawed at her, an unease curling in her stomach. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was the weight of your voice still clinging to her, reminding her that she had finally broken something she couldn’t fix.

So she went.

The coffee shop was quiet when Paige arrived, the usual morning rush long gone. She spotted Natalie immediately, sitting at a table in the corner, hands wrapped around a cup she probably hadn’t even taken a sip from.

Paige hesitated for half a second before making her way over.

Natalie looked up as she approached, her eyes tired, but sharp. “Sit.”

Paige slid into the chair across from her, folding her arms over her chest. “Alright. I’m here. Say whatever you came to say.”

Natalie exhaled, setting her cup down. “I know everything.”

Paige froze. “What?”

Natalie leaned forward slightly. “I know what you did to her. I know what she went through because of you.” Her voice didn’t waver, but there was an underlying anger beneath it, something restrained but ready to snap. “Do you?”

Paige looked away. “It wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” Natalie cut her off. “Don’t sit there and try to make excuses. I don’t care why you did it. I care about what it did to her.”

Paige’s throat felt tight.

Natalie continued, her voice steady. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for her to move on? How much it took for her to be okay again? You weren’t there. You didn’t see her when she couldn’t even step outside without feeling like the whole world was against her.”

Paige clenched her jaw. She had imagined you moving on so easily, living this perfect life without a second thought about her. But that wasn’t the truth, was it? The truth was that she had left you with scars she never even bothered to look at.

“She had trauma, Paige.” Natalie’s voice softened, but the weight of her words only grew heavier. “She saw a therapist for it. That’s where we met.”

Paige blinked.

She hadn’t known that. Hadn’t even considered the possibility. She had spent so long justifying her anger, her obsession with revenge, that she never stopped to think about what it actually did to you.

“She told me everything,” Natalie said. “And I still fell in love with her.”

Paige’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table. She didn’t know why those words stung so much. Maybe because Natalie was saying them with such conviction. Maybe because, deep down, Paige realized she had spent all this time trying to break something that had already been broken—something that had taken years to piece back together.

And now she had shattered it all over again.

“I just…” Paige swallowed, her voice suddenly quieter. “I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t.” Natalie exhaled, rubbing at her temple. “But here’s the thing, Paige. One stupid kiss isn’t enough to make me think any less of her. I know who she is. I know her heart.”

Paige stiffened.

This wasn’t what she expected. She had thought Natalie would hate you, would see you as a cheater, would walk away and leave you just like she had planned. But instead, Natalie was here, telling Paige that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Paige should have been frustrated. She should have been furious. But all she felt was empty.

Because for the first time, she realized she had been hoping Natalie would back off.

That she would leave.

But she was wrong.

Again.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat. “I… I should say sorry.”

Natalie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You don’t get to,” Nat shot back. “Not on your terms. She doesn’t owe you anything, least of all a chance to apologize. You don’t get to decide when or how she heals from what you did.”

Paige didn’t argue. What could she even say? Natalie was right.

Silence.

It was the one thing Paige had never feared before.

On the court, in the locker room, even during the worst nights of her life—she had always found comfort in the silence. It was a moment to breathe, to recalibrate, to steel herself for what came next.

But now?

Now, it was killing her.

You hadn’t spoken to her since that night. No calls. No texts. No bitter, angry words thrown in her face. Nothing. It was like she had ceased to exist in your world, and that should’ve been a relief.

It wasn’t.

It was a punishment worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

For the first time, Paige realized just how much she had relied on your hatred. Your anger had been her anchor, proof that you still felt something, that she hadn’t completely faded from your life. She had convinced herself that if you still had the energy to despise her, then maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t too far gone.

But now?

You had shut her out completely.

And it was ruining her.

She had tried to reach out—half-written texts, aborted phone calls, standing outside places she thought you might be, only to lose her nerve and walk away. Every time she thought about seeing you, about looking into your eyes and knowing that you didn’t care anymore, it made her sick.

But she had to try.

She had to fix this.

Even if she didn’t deserve to.

Paige hadn’t heard from you since. No texts, no accidental run-ins at your usual spots, not even a passing glimpse of you in places she knew you used to frequent. It was like you had vanished, and it was starting to unnerve her. At first, she had convinced herself that it was for the best—that you were better off without her, that this silence was what she deserved. But now, it was gnawing at her. The absence of you was suffocating, like a punishment she didn’t quite know how to endure.

She had checked social media, but there was nothing. No recent activity, no new posts. Even your closest friends hadn’t mentioned you in a while. It was radio silence, and it was killing her.

Then, suddenly, her phone rang. Natalie.

Paige barely had time to answer before Nat’s voice exploded through the line. “What the hell did you do?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard. “Nat, what—”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bueckers! I swear to God, if—” Nat’s voice cracked, and for the first time, Paige registered the sheer panic in it. “She's in the hospital, Paige. The hospital.”

Paige’s entire body locked up. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs. “What?”

“I went to her apartment because she wasn't answering me. I thought maybe she's just avoiding me, but something felt off. So I went.” Nat’s voice wavered, laced with frustration and raw emotion. “And I found her. Barely conscious, barely holding on. She relapsed, Paige. A bad relapse. She's not letting anyone in, she's shutting down completely.”

Paige felt like she had been punched in the gut. Her mind reeled. “I—I didn’t know. I—”

“Of course, you didn’t know!” Nat snapped. “Because you never think about anything past your own damn self! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You don’t get to just walk away and then wreck her life all over again when she have finally found peace!”

Paige was shaking, gripping her phone so tightly it hurt. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—”

“Meaning doesn’t matter,” Nat seethed. “She fought so hard to rebuild herself. And now, because of you, she's back to square one. You undid everything.”

Paige pressed a hand to her forehead, guilt clawing at her from the inside out. “I wanted to say sorry,” she admitted weakly. “I just—didn’t know how.”

“Sorry?” Nat’s laugh was humorless, bitter. “Sorry won’t fix this. Sorry won’t undo the nights she spent breaking apart over you. Sorry won’t change the fact that she's finally happy before you ripped it all away again.”

Paige’s vision blurred. The weight of her actions, the destruction she had left in her wake, crushed down on her like a tidal wave. “Is she…” Her voice cracked. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Nat admitted, voice breaking now too. “But you don’t get to be part of that answer.”

The call ended, and Paige was left staring at her phone, the silence swallowing her whole. She had ruined everything. Again. And this time, she didn’t know if there was anything left to fix.

A few days later, Paige found herself parked outside your house, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. You had been discharged, but she hadn’t seen you. Not once. The thought made her stomach churn.

From her vantage point, she could see movement inside. And then, her chest tightened—your ex was there. Paige hated that. Hated how effortless it was for her to be there, to have a place in your life that Paige no longer did.

She wasn’t sure what hurt more—the way you were standing close, or the fact that Natalie had a key and Paige didn’t.

A fucking key.

Paige’s stomach twisted violently as she watched through the window, her fists clenching at her sides.

Natalie was touching your arm, looking at you with that familiar tenderness, and you—God, you were letting her.

Paige hated it.

Hated the way Natalie still cared, hated the way you let her in when you had shut Paige out so completely.

She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the storm brewing inside her. What had she done? Was this truly what she wanted? To punish you? To hurt you the way she thought you hurt her? Or had she only ever wanted to take you away for herself?

The thought festered inside her, twisting and turning until she could no longer sit still. Paige moved discreetly, watching for the right moment. And then, it came—Nat stepped out, heading toward her car. She was alone now.

This was her chance.

Heart pounding, Paige climbed out of the car and walked up to your door, exhaling sharply before knocking. Hard. Loud.

“Open the door,” she called out, her voice softer than before, but desperate. When there was no response, she knocked again, more insistently. “Please. Just… please.”

She let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the door for a second. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you,” she said, voice raw with emotion. “But I never thought it would affect you this much. I never wanted to be the reason you…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “Just let me see you. Please.”

She was making a scene, but she didn’t care. Let the whole damn neighborhood see. If this was the only way to reach you, then so be it.

Seconds passed. Paige could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, feel the weight of everything she had done pressing down on her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to keep talking, to keep reaching for you.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I know that. I just… I made a terrible mistake. Please...”

Still nothing. Paige’s fingers curled into fists, and she let out a shaky laugh, full of self-loathing. “God, I was so stupid. I thought I was hurting you, but all I did was destroy myself in the process.”

A noise from inside. The faintest shuffle of movement. Paige’s breath hitched. “Please,” she tried again, voice breaking. “If you never want to see me again after this, I’ll leave. I swear. Just… let me see you one last time.”

A long pause. And then, finally, the door creaked open. Paige barely breathed as she looked up, eyes meeting yours for the first time in what felt like forever.

It wasn’t supposed to rain that night.

The sky had been clear all day, no clouds, no sign of a storm rolling in. But as Paige stood outside your apartment, the first drops of rain splattered onto her skin.

Fitting.

She didn’t even know what she was going to say. She had spent the entire day rehearsing apologies in her head, but none of them felt like enough. What did you even say to someone after you had spent years making their life miserable?

She never got the chance to decide.

But then the door opened, and you stepped out.

The moment your eyes met hers, Paige’s breath caught in her throat.

You didn’t look angry. You didn’t look anything.

Just numb.

And somehow, that was worse than hate.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her throat was tight, her hands were shaking, and all she could do was stare at you like she had forgotten how to speak.

You shifted slightly, stepping off the porch, and Paige instinctively reached for you. “Wait—”

You sidestepped her effortlessly.

Like she was nothing.

“Don’t,” you said, voice flat, empty. “I have nothing to say to you.”

The rain had started to come down harder now, but Paige barely felt it. She was too busy scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto.

“Please,” she tried again. “Just—just listen to me.”

You didn’t stop walking. Not until you’re completely exposed, until you’re completely soaked with the cold hard rain.

Paige moved in front of you, her heart hammering in her chest. “I’m sorry.”

Nothing.

Her voice cracked. “I mean it. I mean it. I—I never wanted to take it this far.”

That made you pause. Just for a second.

And Paige, desperate, latched onto it.

“I know I messed up. I know I don’t deserve a second of your time, but I need you to hear me,” she pleaded, her voice bordering on frantic. “I—I was wrong. About everything. And I—I don’t know how to—”

You exhaled sharply, cutting her off. “Paige.”

Her name sounded so foreign in your voice.

Like something dead.

“I don’t care anymore.”

That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. But it did. God, it did.

Paige shook her head, blinking through the rain. “No. No, you do. I know you do.” She reached for you again, and this time, you didn’t move away.

But you didn’t reach back.

You just stood there, staring at her with eyes that were hollow.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Your voice was softer now, almost pitying. “I spent years letting you ruin me. And I’m done.”

Paige felt her breath hitch, her stomach twisting painfully.

Done.

The word echoed in her head, over and over, like a death sentence.

And then—before she could stop herself—she did something she had never done before.

Paige Bueckers dropped to her knees.

The wet pavement bit through her jeans, but she didn’t care. Didn’t move. Just kneeled there in front of you, hands clenched at her sides, heart cracked wide open.

“I was wrong.” Her chest tightened, the truth spilling from her lips before she could stop it. “I didn’t want to punish you. I just—I wanted you. And I was too sick and twisted to realize that until I’d already ruined everything.”

The rain was freezing, soaking through her clothes, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

Not when she was losing you.

Not when she had already lost you.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you didn’t move to help her up. You didn’t care.

“I was a coward,” she whispered. “And I hurt you. And I don’t deserve to be standing here, asking you for anything. But I will. I will, because even if you never take me back, even if you never forgive me, I need you to know that I was yours all along. I was just too fucking stupid to see it.”

The rain poured harder, soaking the confession into the streets, into the air between you.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands gripping the wet pavement as she bowed her head.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to fucking make it right.” Her voice wavered, raw and wrecked. “But I want to. I need to.”

Silence.

And then, finally, your voice.

“You should go home, Paige.”

It was the final blow, the last thread snapping.

Paige didn’t move.

She just knelt there, trembling, as the rain poured down around her—washing away everything but the unbearable weight of regret.

The rain was relentless, pounding against Paige’s skin like tiny needles, soaking her through until she was shivering. But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except you.

You, standing there in front of her, looking at her like she was a stranger. Like she was nothing.

Paige had always been good at getting what she wanted. The game, the fame, the people—everything had always been within her reach. Even when she lost, even when she failed, there was always a way back. A way to fix it.

But this?

This was slipping through her fingers, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

She pressed her palms against the wet pavement, fingers digging into the concrete as she gasped for breath. “Please.”

You barely reacted.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, the weight in her chest suffocating. “I—I'll do anything,” she choked out. “Just… don’t walk away from me.”

Your silence was louder than anything.

Paige looked up, blinking against the rain, her vision blurred—not just from the downpour, but from the sting behind her eyes. She was losing it. She knew she was. And she didn’t even care.

She reached for your wrist.

You pulled back before she could touch you.

The rejection burned.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her voice hoarse. “I miss you.”

You exhaled, long and slow, like you were trying to stay patient. But there was nothing left for her in your eyes.

Paige tried again, her voice desperate. “You don’t understand—I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten, I can’t think without—” She sucked in a sharp breath, her chest caving in. “You’re in my head. You won’t leave my head. And I don’t—I don’t know how to live with that.”

You finally spoke, your tone even and quiet. “That’s not my problem.”

It felt like a punch to the gut.

Paige shook her head quickly, her hands trembling. “It is—it is your problem, because I—” She swallowed, her throat raw. “I love you.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them.

The weight of them crushed her the moment they were free.

She had never said it before. Not to you. Not to anyone.

And now, she had nothing left to lose.

The rain poured harder, the silence between you deafening.

You let out a quiet laugh—one that wasn’t amused at all. One that sounded like disbelief, like exhaustion.

Paige watched your face carefully, desperately, waiting for something. Anything.

You just shook your head. “You don’t love me.”

Paige flinched like you had hit her.

“Yes, I do.” Her voice cracked, raw and broken. “I do.”

You looked away, exhaling sharply. “No. You love the idea of me. You love what you can’t have. You love the way I let you get away with hurting me.” You stepped back, shaking your head. “But you don’t love me.”

Paige felt her stomach drop, the rain masking the hot tears that slid down her face.

This wasn’t working. This wasn’t fixing anything.

She couldn’t let it end like this.

Paige scrambled closer on her knees, gripping the hem of your sleeve, holding on like you were the last solid thing in her crumbling world. “Just—just tell me what to do,” she begged. “Tell me what I can say, what I can give, and I’ll do it.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if you were tired of her.

Then, your voice came, quiet but firm.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Paige’s entire body went cold.

No.

No, that couldn’t be true.

“I’ll change,” she whispered, frantic. “I’ll fix myself.”

Your eyes met hers again, and this time, there was nothing there but finality.

“You can’t.”

Paige felt like she was going to throw up.

You pulled your arm from her grip, and she didn’t have the strength to hold on.

She watched helplessly as you stepped back, shaking your head once more. “Go home, Paige.”

The rain kept falling.

Paige stayed on her knees.

The rain poured relentlessly, soaking Paige to the bone as she knelt on the pavement outside your house. Her knees scraped against the wet concrete, her hands trembling as she reached for you, but you stepped back, out of her grasp.

"Please," Paige's voice cracked, raw and desperate. "Just listen to me. Just—just give me a chance to fix this."

You stood there, drenched and unmoving, your face unreadable, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging inside her.

"A chance?" You laughed, but there was no humor in it. "A chance to what, Paige? To hurt me again? To ruin me all over?" Your words cut deeper than the cold. "I don’t care anymore. I’m done."

Paige shook her head violently, her breath hitching. "You’re not done. You can’t be. Not after everything—"

"Everything?" You scoffed. "Everything you destroyed?"

Paige felt the sting of her own tears mixing with the rain. Her chest heaved, desperation clawing at her ribs. She had always been good with words—charming, persuasive—but now, they failed her. Everything she said felt small, insignificant against the weight of what she had done.

"I—" she choked, swallowing back a sob. "I didn't mean for it to end like this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "You did mean it, Paige. You planned it. You executed it. And now, what? You regret it?"

Paige dropped her head, her wet hair clinging to her face as the weight of your words crushed her. She had done this. She had dug her own grave, and now she was suffocating in it.

"I don't know how to fix this." Her voice was small now, broken. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it right."

You stared at her, your expression unreadable before you sighed, shaking your head. "You can’t. And that’s the worst part. You can’t fix any of it."

Paige’s chest tightened, a sharp pain stabbing through her ribs. She let out a shuddering breath, her entire body trembling. "Please… I love you."

You flinched, as if the words physically hurt. Then, after a beat, you let out a hollow laugh. "You love me? Paige, you don’t even know what love is. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this."

She reached for you again, this time her fingers barely grazing your wrist before you pulled away completely.

Then, behind you, a car parked abruptly, followed by the door slamming shut.

“What the hell is going on?” Nat’s voice sliced through the rain, sharp and laced with disbelief.

You turned slightly, your body shifting as if suddenly aware of the entire situation—the rain, Paige kneeling in front of you, Natalie, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Nat’s gaze flickered between you and Paige, her expression quickly morphing from confusion to pure, unfiltered rage. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Paige barely had time to react before Nat was marching forward.

“Get up,” Nat snapped, glaring down at Paige with disgust. “Now.”

Paige didn’t move.

Nat let out an incredulous scoff. “Are you serious right now? You show up, make a goddamn scene, and now you’re just gonna sit there like some kind of—" She threw her hands up, exasperated. “No. You know what? I don’t care. Get inside.” She turned to you, voice softer now, more urgent. “You’re shivering. Come on.”

But you didn’t move either. Not at first. Paige could see the conflict warring inside you, could see the way your fingers twitched like you wanted to reach for something—but what?

Her?

Paige squeezed her eyes shut. She was delusional. She can feel herself getting sicker every minute.

“Come on,” Nat pressed again, stepping closer, placing a firm hand on your back. “Please.”

That’s what did it.

With one last lingering look at Paige, you finally turned, stepping back inside without a word.

Paige’s heart dropped.

The door was still open. Nat hadn’t gone inside yet. She stood in the doorway, crossing her arms, her glare returning in full force.

“You need to go home, Paige,” Nat said, voice cold.

Paige shook her head, barely blinking against the rain. “Not until I talk to her.”

“Talk to her?” Nat scoffed. “What else is there to say? You did enough damage already. You don’t get to waltz back in and pretend you give a shit now.”

Paige clenched her jaw. “I never stopped caring.”

Nat let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really? That’s rich, coming from the person who spent months making her life hell. Who made her relapse.”

Paige flinched at the word.

Nat took a step forward, voice lowering into something dangerous.

"Go home, Paige," she said, her voice void of warmth. "She doesn’t want you here."

And then, without another word, she stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

The sound echoed in the empty street, a finality that should have sent Paige walking.

But she didn’t.

She stayed.

The hours passed, the rain never stopping. Paige sat down on the porch steps, her body growing heavier by the second. She could feel exhaustion creeping in, the cold seeping into her bones, but none of it compared to the ache inside her chest.

Paige remained frozen, rain dripping down her face like the tears she refused to wipe away. Her hands curled into fists against the pavement, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

She had done this.

She had lost you.

She had broken you.

And now, she had to live with it.

The TV droned on in the background, just noise to fill the silence of your apartment. You weren’t paying much attention—until a familiar name made your head snap up.

"Paige Bueckers will not be playing tonight due to illness," the commentator announced. "The Wings star guard was ruled out earlier today, and sources say she’s been battling a high fever."

You stared at the screen, something tightening in your chest. Paige was sick. You should’ve felt indifferent. You should’ve ignored the small flicker of concern gnawing at you. But the news unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

Still, it wasn’t your problem. Not anymore.

You turned off the TV.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a familiar name. Paige.

You hesitated. You had seen the news earlier—Paige was out for the game due to illness. You felt something twist in your chest, but you ignored it. This wasn’t your problem. Not anymore.

But then the phone rang again. And again. Until, finally, with an exhausted sigh, you answered.

"What?"

Heavy breathing. A ragged inhale, followed by a weak exhale.

"Please…" Paige’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with fever and exhaustion. "I’m sorry. Please."

You clenched your jaw. "Stop.”

"I need you."

Your stomach flipped. Her words, raw and desperate, sent a pang of guilt through you. You closed your eyes, gripping the phone tighter. "You have teammates. Friends. Call one of them."

"No," she croaked. "I don’t want anybody else."

Silence stretched between you. Paige sniffled, her breathing uneven, like even talking was taking too much effort.

You knew she was alone. You knew she had no one here in LA.

But the pain that she had caused you was still fresh, so you ended the call.

The news broke early that morning.

"Paige Bueckers ruled out for tonight’s game due to illness."

Sports analysts speculated, fans panicked, and the media churned out theories. But the truth was far simpler—Paige had spent the entire night outside in the rain, and now her body was paying the price.

Her fever spiked, her limbs felt like lead, and every breath rattled in her chest. Yet, none of it compared to the hollow ache gnawing at her insides. She had done this to herself. She had deserved it.

Still, the Dallas Wings needed her, and she wasn’t used to sitting out. She had fought through injuries before, played through pain. But when she tried to get up that morning, the world tilted so violently that she collapsed back onto the bed.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

The game came and went without her, a rare absence that sent shockwaves through the team. The Wings pulled off a win, but Arike had barely processed it. The second the final buzzer sounded, she was out the door, heading straight for Paige’s place.

When she got there, it was worse than she expected.

Paige was curled up under a mess of blankets, her usually sharp blue eyes dull with exhaustion. Her skin was pale, lips chapped, her whole body radiating fever.

“You look like shit,” Arike muttered, dropping a bag of food onto the nightstand. “You even been eating?”

Paige barely moved. “Not hungry.”

Arike rolled her eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Of course you’re not.” She reached out, pressing the back of her hand to Paige’s forehead. The heat was immediate. “Damn, Bueckers. You’re burning up.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Arike sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “Look, I don’t know what kind of self-destructive spiral you’re on, but this isn’t it. You need to rest, hydrate, eat—”

“I just need her,” Paige mumbled weakly.

Arike stilled, then let out a slow breath. “You’re serious?”

Paige turned her head slightly, barely meeting Arike’s gaze.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

“Jesus Christ.” Arike stood abruptly, frustration rolling off her in waves. “You’re sitting here, making yourself miserable over someone who clearly doesn’t want to deal with your bullshit anymore?”

Paige’s fingers curled into the blankets. “She doesn’t hate me.”

Arike scoffed. “You sure about that?”

Paige didn’t answer.

Arike sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. You’re useless like this.” She snatched Paige’s phone off the nightstand and started dialing.

“What are you doing?” Paige croaked, attempting to sit up.

“Fixing your mess.”

Paige’s heart pounded as she watched Arike bring the phone to her ear. The ringing felt deafening in the quiet room.

No answer.

“Shocking,” Arike muttered.

Paige sank back against the pillows, the rejection hitting her harder than it should have.

But Arike wasn’t done. She pulled out her own phone, punched in a number, and held it to her ear.

A pause. Then—

“…Hello?”

Paige froze.

Arike raised an eyebrow, surprised you had answered an unknown number. “Oh, now you pick up?”

You sighed on the other end. “Who is this?”

Arike crossed her arms. “This is Arike Ogunbowale. You don’t know me, but I know you.”

A beat of silence. Arike, Paige’s teammate. Then your voice, wary. “…Paige told you about me?”

Arike let out a dry laugh. “Not exactly. She’s delirious with fever and still only saying your name. It’s pathetic.”

You inhaled sharply, clearly caught off guard. “That’s not my problem.”

“Yeah, well, it’s somebody’s problem because she’s a damn mess.” Arike paced the room, frustration seeping into her voice. “I don’t know what the hell happened between you two, and honestly, I don’t care. But she won’t sleep, won’t eat, won’t even try to get better. She’s self-destructing right in front of me, and she’s saying you’re the only one who can snap her out of it.”

You exhaled slowly. “I’m not coming.”

Paige, who had been listening quietly, let out a hoarse whisper, “It’s fine.”

Arike turned to look at her. Paige’s eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion pulling at her features. She reached weakly for the phone, but Arike didn’t hand it over.

“Just stay on the line,” Paige murmured, voice barely audible. “Please.”

A long silence stretched over the call.

Then, finally—

“…Fine.”

Arike huffed, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable.” She placed the phone on speaker and set it on the nightstand, shaking her head. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Paige barely heard her. The sound of your breathing through the speaker was enough.

She let her eyes drift shut, body sinking into the mattress.

The fever still burned, her chest still ached, but for the first time in days, she felt like she could finally fall asleep.

You weren’t avoiding Paige.

Not really.

You were just… staying off social media. You weren’t checking your mentions, weren’t scrolling through your feed, weren’t leaving any digital footprints that could drag you back into the mess. It wasn’t about her anymore. You had a life—a good one—and you weren’t about to let the ghost of Paige Bueckers haunt it any longer.

But the world had other plans.

Your office was bright with the glow of overhead lights, the soft hum of keyboards clicking filling the air. Colleagues moved around you, caught up in their own tasks, their own conversations. It was just another workday. Until—

"And in sports news, the Dallas Wings secured a win tonight, led by a dominant performance from Paige Bueckers, who returned to the court after missing a game due to illness—"

Your stomach twisted.

You hadn’t meant to look. Hadn’t meant to care. But the TV in the lounge area, just a few steps from your desk, was impossible to ignore. And the second her name hit the airwaves, your body betrayed you. Your eyes flicked up to the screen before you could stop yourself.

There she was.

Paige, standing at the podium, still in her jersey, hair damp with sweat. She looked exhausted but determined, her fingers flexing around the microphone as the reporters fired questions.

"Paige, after missing last game, you came back with a statement win. What fueled that kind of performance?"

Paige exhaled, looking down briefly before speaking.

"I guess I’ve been playing against myself more than anyone else lately."

A murmur rippled through the press room. She wasn’t looking at the reporters anymore. Her eyes were somewhere far away, somewhere heavier.

"Care to elaborate?"

Paige let out a small, breathy laugh. The kind that wasn’t really a laugh at all.

"I’ve just been… stupid," she admitted. "With my actions. With my choices. With the people I should’ve cared about but didn’t."

A hush fell over the room.

"Is this about someone specific?" another reporter asked, voice laced with curiosity.

Paige’s grip on the mic tightened.

"Yeah."

That was it. Just one word.

The room erupted, reporters shouting over each other, fans online likely blowing up with speculation. But Paige wasn’t looking at them anymore. She was looking down, shaking her head at herself, frustration evident in the furrow of her brows.

"I keep losing my chance," she muttered, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Your pulse kicked up.

You knew the internet would dissect this moment, picking apart every syllable. Who was she talking about? Who was the mysterious girl Paige Bueckers had lost her chance with?

You didn’t need to wonder. You already knew.

A colleague passed by, nudging you playfully. "Damn, even Bueckers is getting sentimental out here. Wonder who she’s talking about."

You forced a chuckle. "Yeah, who knows."

You walked back to your desk, ignoring the glances, the murmurs, the growing buzz around the interview. Your fingers hovered over your phone, instinct begging you to check your notifications.

You didn’t.

But then—

Your phone vibrated against your desk.

A message.

From her.

Your heart clenched, but you didn't open it right away. Instead, you just stared at her name, like it had the power to pull you back into something you weren’t sure you could escape.

Eventually, curiosity—or maybe something deeper—won out.

Paige: I know I have no right to ask for anything from you. But if I could take everything back, I would. If I could fix the way I broke you, I would. I was so caught up in my own ego, my own hurt, that I didn’t see what I was doing to you. And I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s probably too late, but I just needed you to know that.

You exhaled slowly, the weight of her words settling in.

It wasn’t that you weren’t hurt anymore. You were.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to carry it.

It started with flowers.

A stunning arrangement of white lilies and soft pink roses sat on your desk when you arrived at work, standing out against the neutral tones of your office. The card attached was simple, handwritten in familiar, slanted print:

"I hope today is kind to you."

No name. No indication of who sent it. But you knew.

You stared at the flowers for too long, ignoring the knowing glances from your colleagues as you sat down. You considered throwing them away, but your fingers hesitated over the stems. Eventually, you just left them there, untouched yet unmoved.

Then, the next day—food.

Your favorite takeout, delivered right to your doorstep. The exact order, down to the extra sauce packets and the drink you always paired it with. A note tucked inside the bag:

"Eat well. You forget sometimes."

And the next—books.

Not just any books. The ones you had mentioned in passing before, the ones you had gushed about without thinking she was really listening. Each one arriving in a neat package, carefully wrapped, with another note.

"I remember the way your eyes lit up when you talked about this one."

It kept happening. Sweet nothings disguised as small, thoughtful gestures.

A playlist sent to your email, filled with songs that made you feel something once. A coffee, bought and paid for before you even placed your order at your usual café. Letters—actual handwritten letters—left in your mailbox, in your car, on your desk at work.

They weren’t long. Just little thoughts, little confessions.

"I know I don’t deserve to reach for you again, but I can’t seem to stop."

"I replay everything in my head, over and over. Wishing I had done it differently. Wishing I had just held onto you instead of pushing you away."

"You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

Because Paige Bueckers does not pursue people.

She does not chase. She does not fold. She does not give herself away so easily.

And yet, here she was.

Quietly, persistently, undeniably—clearly pursuing you.

And you didn’t understand why.

The session ran longer than expected.

You had barely spoken for the first fifteen minutes, staring at the clock, willing time to move faster. But your therapist had a way of sitting with silence that made it unbearable, so eventually, you caved. You talked. Not about her, not directly. But about the weight on your chest, the exhaustion in your bones, the way you were so tired of looking over your shoulder—whether for ghosts or for her, you weren’t sure anymore.

You thought it helped, for a while. Until you stepped out of the office and saw her.

Paige.

Waiting.

She was standing a few feet away from the exit, leaning against the hood of her car, head down, hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie. She looked different. There were shadows beneath her eyes, like sleep had become a foreign concept. Her posture was all wrong—hesitant, unsure, small.

And then, as if sensing your presence, she looked up.

The second your eyes met, your stomach dropped.

She didn’t move right away, just studied you like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. But you weren’t going to wait for her to find the courage. You turned, ready to walk right past her—

“Wait.” Her voice cracked.

You ignored her.

“Please.”

Something in the way she said it made your steps falter. Not desperate—broken. Like she had lost something she would never find again.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and faced her. “Why are you here?”

Paige exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through her hair. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

Your lips curled into something humorless. “You had no problem doing it before.”

She flinched. “I—”

“No.” Your voice sharpened, cutting through whatever pathetic excuse she was about to give. “Don’t stand here and act like you care. You don’t get to care, Paige. You lost that right when you—” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it.

Paige stepped forward, panic flashing in her eyes. “I do care. I never stopped.”

You laughed, short and sharp, shaking your head. “You have a sick way of showing it.”

She looked down, swallowing hard. “I know,” she whispered.

Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the parking lot, biting at your skin. You clenched your fists, grounding yourself.

“I had to start over,” you finally said, voice quieter now. “I had to claw my way out of the hole you threw me in. And now I’m back here. In this hellhole. Because of you.”

Paige’s breathing turned uneven. “I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

She took another step closer, hesitantly, like she was approaching something fragile. “Then tell me what does.”

You laughed again, this time bitter. “You leaving.”

Paige’s entire body tensed, like the words physically hurt her. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you.”

The breath left your lungs.

Paige must have seen the way you tensed, because she rushed forward, desperation spilling from her every movement. “I didn’t realize it until it was too late. I was so stuck in my own head, so caught up in punishing you, in punishing myself, that I—I destroyed us.” Her voice wavered. “And then you were gone, and I thought—I thought I could live with it. I thought I deserved to.”

She dropped her head, exhaling shakily.

“But I can’t.”

You stared at her, something ugly twisting inside your chest. “You don’t get to say that,” you whispered.

“I know,” she said immediately. “I know I don’t deserve another chance. I know I don’t deserve you. But I swear to God, if I could take it back—” Her voice cracked, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just want to fix it.”

You felt lightheaded. Your breath was coming too fast, your hands were shaking, your mind screaming at you to run.

But Paige didn’t stop.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” she continued, voice thick with emotion. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I—”

“Shut up.”

Paige froze.

You pressed your hands against your temples, trying to breathe. Trying to stay here. But everything was spinning, spiraling out of control.

She reached for you.

You yanked away. “Why are you still here?!”

Paige’s lips parted, something terrified flashing in her expression.

You stumbled back, vision going blurry. “You ruin me,” you whispered.

And then the world tilted.

The last thing you heard was Paige’s panicked voice calling your name before the ground disappeared beneath you.

The first thing you registered was warmth.

Soft sheets. The distant hum of the air conditioning. The faint scent of something familiar—clean linen, a hint of lavender and musk. Your head felt heavy, as if your body was reluctant to pull itself back into awareness.

You blinked against the dim glow of the bedside lamp, your vision adjusting to the dark. The room was unfamiliar. Not yours. Panic started creeping in, curling around your chest like a vice.

Where were you?

You forced yourself upright, the world tilting slightly as you did. The movement stirred something in the room. A quiet rustle. You turned your head, pulse spiking—

Paige.

She was on the couch a few feet away, curled into herself, a blanket draped haphazardly over her legs. Her breathing was steady, deep—she was asleep.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

What the hell is going on?

You barely remembered what happened. Just fragments. The fight. The weight of your own emotions crushing you until your body finally gave out.

And Paige—she must have been the one who—

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, desperate to leave, but the slight creak of the mattress was enough to rouse her.

She stirred, shifting under the blanket. Then, as if instinctually attuned to your presence, she blinked awake, eyes immediately locking onto yours.

“You’re up,” she murmured, her voice laced with sleep.

You didn’t respond. Your mind was still trying to catch up with the reality of where you were.

Paige rubbed at her eyes, pushing herself upright. “How do you feel?”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat. “Where am I?”

“My place.”

Your pulse spiked again. “Why—why would you—”

Paige must have seen the rising panic on your face because she quickly sat forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “You fainted. I—I didn’t know where else to take you.”

“My house.” Your voice was hoarse.

She exhaled, nodding. “I know. I just—” She hesitated, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Your stomach twisted.

Paige glanced away, almost shyly. “I told Nat. She knows you’re here.”

That startled you. Paige and Nat had barely ever spoken—at least, not before everything had fallen apart. The fact that Paige had reached out out of respect rather than possessiveness felt… unfamiliar.

Different.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

A thick silence settled between you.

Then Paige, ever careful, ever hesitant, asked, “Are you hungry?”

You barely processed the question, still too overwhelmed by everything else. Your fingers gripped the sheets, grounding yourself. “I just… I want to go home.”

Something flickered in Paige’s eyes—something pained. But she nodded immediately, standing. “Okay,” she said quickly. “Okay, yeah. Of course.”

She stepped toward you, hands twitching at her sides, like she wanted to help you stand but didn’t know if she was allowed. You stood on your own, though your legs still felt unsteady. The room spun slightly.

Paige noticed.

She was in front of you in an instant, not touching, but there. “Wait—are you okay? Maybe sit down for a second—”

You shook your head, your breathing quickening. “No, I—I need to go.”

Paige hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to respect your boundaries and the instinct to make sure you were okay.

You must have looked as wrecked as you felt because something in her expression cracked.

“Alright,” she said, softer this time. “I’ll take you home.”

The way she said it—like she would’ve agreed to anything you asked, no matter how much it killed her—made something inside you ache.

The drive home was wrapped in silence.

Paige kept her hands on the wheel, fingers gripping a little too tight, knuckles pale in the dim streetlights. You stared out the window, watching the world blur past, your mind miles away.

Neither of you spoke.

It wasn’t the same silence that had once been filled with resentment or anger. No, this was something heavier—an understanding of all the wreckage between you, too vast to be stitched together with simple words.

When she finally pulled up to your place, she didn’t move to leave. She sat there, hands still on the wheel, hesitant, uncertain.

You sighed, exhausted. “You can go now.”

Paige swallowed, hesitant. “Can I stay?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t nod, didn’t shake your head. You just got out of the car and walked inside.

And somehow, Paige took that as a yes.

You didn’t look back, but you heard her follow—her soft footsteps trailing behind yours, careful and unsure, as if waiting for you to tell her to stop. But you didn’t.

She didn’t go any further than the living room.

You saw her out of the corner of your eye as you walked past—standing there, lingering, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders tense. Like she didn’t know what to do now that she was here.

You didn’t care.

You shut the door to your room behind you and leaned against it, exhaling sharply.

Paige didn’t leave.

You could hear her moving around in the living room, barely making a sound, but her presence was unmistakable. It was unsettling.

For so long, Paige had been a force of destruction in your life, a storm that never left anything untouched. And yet, now, she moved differently. Like she was afraid of breaking what was left of you.

You sat on the edge of your bed, hands clasped together, trying to gather your thoughts.

This wasn’t making sense.

Why was she still here?

Why was she doing all of this?

You had spent so long thinking of Paige as the villain in your story, the selfish, reckless storm that had torn through your life without a second thought. And now, here she was—lingering, waiting, desperate to mend what she’d shattered.

What the hell was her hidden agenda?

The thought clawed at you until you couldn’t sit still anymore.

You pushed the door open, stepping back into the dimly lit living room. Paige was there, sitting on the couch, her hands clasped between her knees, eyes distant.

She looked up the second you entered.

You exhaled sharply. “Alright, what is it?”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“You,” you said, crossing your arms. “What are you doing? What’s your plan? Your angle?”

Paige’s brows furrowed. “I don’t have one.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you just suddenly decided you care? After everything?”

She flinched.

You didn’t stop. “After months of making my life hell? After making sure I had nothing left at UConn? After ruining everything I tried to rebuild here in LA?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. “You don’t get to just show up, apologize a couple of times, and act like we can go back to normal.”

Paige stood then, slow and careful, like she knew you were on the verge of breaking all over again.

“I know,” she said, voice quiet but steady. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. I know I ruined everything. I—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “I was selfish. And cruel. And I thought if I could make you hurt even half as much as I was hurting, it would make it easier.”

You stared at her. “And did it?”

Paige swallowed hard. “No,” she admitted. “It only made me lose the only person I ever—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I just— I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “And what? You want me to just believe you?”

“No,” Paige said, stepping closer. “I want to prove it to you.”

You felt the heat of her presence now, the way she was looking at you like she was barely holding herself back.

She inhaled sharply, gathering herself before she said, “I want to apologize. To everyone. To Natalie” Paige hesitated, eyes flickering with something unreadable.

That caught you off guard.

“You… what?”

“I hurt her too,” Paige said simply. “I ruined what you had with her, and I never once considered what that meant for her.” She met your gaze, steady and sure. “If I’m going to do this right, then I need to do it right. And I need to start there.”

You didn’t know what to say.

For months, you had dreamed of hearing Paige apologize, of seeing her wrecked with regret. And now that it was happening, you didn’t know what to do with it.

She was changing. You could see it in her eyes, in the way she carried herself. But could you trust it?

Paige seemed to sense your hesitation because she took another step closer, just close enough that you could see the sincerity written all over her face.

“Just let me try,” she murmured. “I’m not asking for anything else.”

You stared at her for a long moment, then looked away.

You weren’t going to give her an answer.

Paige exhaled, like she expected that.

Still, she didn’t take it as a no.

Paige didn’t stop.

She didn’t hesitate.

She pursued you the way she pursued basketball—with relentless, unwavering determination.

But this time, it wasn’t for a game. It wasn’t about winning.

It was about you.

And for once, she wasn’t trying to take anything from you. She was trying to give.

It started small.

A text every morning, even when you didn’t reply.

Paige: Good morning. Hope today’s not too shitty. Paige: Or if it is, at least let it be the fun kind of shitty.

A reminder before your therapy sessions.

Paige: You got this. No running out halfway through, okay?

And after.

Paige: Didn’t wanna bug you, but… how was it?

She never pushed. Never demanded anything.

But she was there. Always.

You told yourself it was just guilt, that she was overcompensating for the past. That she’d eventually get tired of it.

She never did.

When you got home from a session one day, Paige was there.

She wasn’t waiting on your doorstep like some lovesick idiot, though. She was sitting in her car, parked across the street, looking at her phone.

You hesitated, but when she glanced up and saw you, she smiled. It wasn’t cocky or teasing. Just… warm.

“Hey.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

Paige tilted her head. “Doing what?”

“Hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I’m making sure you’re okay.”

You exhaled. “Why?”

Her expression softened. “Because I want to.”

You shook your head, but she didn’t let you shut her out.

“Did you eat?” she asked, changing the subject entirely.

You blinked at her. “What?”

“Food,” Paige said. “You know, that thing that keeps you alive? Did you have any today?”

You hesitated, and that was all the answer she needed.

She sighed and shook her head. “Come on.”

Before you could protest, she was already moving, grabbing the grocery bag from the passenger seat of her car.

You narrowed your eyes. “What is that?”

“Food,” she said simply. “You’re gonna sit down, and I’m gonna cook.”

You scoffed. “Since when do you cook?”

Paige smirked. “Since right now.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then she was already stepping past you, into your apartment like she belonged there.

And for some reason… you let her.

She was awful at cooking.

You could tell by the way she furrowed her brows at the stove, as if willing it to make sense.

“Jesus,” you muttered, watching her struggle. “I should’ve just ordered takeout.”

“Shut up,” Paige shot back, gripping the spatula like it personally offended her. “I got this.”

She did not, in fact, have this.

The chicken was overcooked, the rice slightly burnt, but she still placed the plate in front of you with a proud grin.

You stared at the mess of a meal. “You sure you didn’t just try to poison me?”

Paige gasped. “Wow. This is what I get for trying to feed you?”

You huffed, but your lips twitched.

And when you actually took a bite, despite how disastrous it looked, it wasn’t terrible.

Paige watched you like a puppy waiting for praise.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s… edible.”

Her grin widened. “You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

Paige laughed, and something about the sound was so genuine, so light, that you forgot, just for a second, about all the things she had done before.

She kept showing up.

She didn’t ask for anything in return.

She didn’t try to force you into forgiving her.

She just… made herself present.

When you had therapy, she’d be outside, waiting, even if she never said a word about it.

When you had a bad day, she’d drop off your favorite snacks, sending nothing but a simple text:

Paige: In case today sucked. And if it didn’t, then congrats. Free snacks.

She walked you through your panic attacks, through the days where you didn’t even want to get out of bed.

She learned how to help, the right things to say, the right way to be there without suffocating you.

She even got you to laugh again.

And somewhere, somehow, through all of it…

You started to believe her.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt… good.

Not just tolerable. Not just okay. But good.

Paige had worked her way back into your life, brick by brick, never rushing, never demanding more than what you could give. And somehow, you found yourself meeting her halfway without even realizing it.

Even Natalie had softened.

She had always been observant, even when you didn’t realize it. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t surprised when she saw Paige lingering around more, the conversations shifting from tension-filled to teasing, the way you started looking at her with something other than exhaustion.

One afternoon, you met up with Nat at your usual café. She stirred her tea absentmindedly, looking at you with a knowing smirk. “So… you and Paige?”

You tensed, feeling the weight of guilt rise, but she just chuckled and shook her head. “Relax. I knew this was coming the second she stepped back into town.”

You swallowed. “You sure you’re okay with it?”

She took a sip before setting her cup down. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little at first. But I know you.” She met your gaze. “And I know her. And honestly? I think she gets it now.”

You exhaled, something in your chest loosening. “She does.”

Nat nodded. “Good. Then I’m happy for you.”

And just like that, the last lingering piece of guilt melted away. You reached across the table, squeezing her hand, silently thanking her for everything. She squeezed back, smiling.

She still gave Paige a hard time—because of course she did—but the tension that once strangled the air between them had eased.

You caught them talking the other day when they thought you weren’t listening.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Natalie had said, arms crossed, a knowing look in her eyes.

Paige had gone quiet for a moment before answering.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I do.”

And maybe, deep down, you’d already known. But hearing it like that, so soft and certain, had done something to you.

Because even you had to admit it now.

You were falling for her again.

But this time, it wasn’t reckless.

It wasn’t blind.

It wasn’t naive.

Paige had earned it.

You were sitting on the couch one night, half-asleep against Paige’s shoulder, when she broke the comfortable silence.

“Be mine.”

It was so quiet, so gentle, that for a second, you thought you imagined it.

You blinked up at her, groggy and confused. “Huh?”

Paige shifted, turning toward you slightly, her face inches from yours.

“I’m asking you to be mine,” she said, a nervous edge to her voice. “For real this time.”

You swallowed, your heart thumping in your chest.

She’d never asked before.

Not like this.

Before, she had taken. Assumed. Expected.

But now?

She was giving you the choice.

And for once, it didn’t feel like a mistake.

It felt… right.

So you exhaled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Took you long enough.”

Paige grinned, wide and breathtaking, and before you could say anything else, she kissed you.

It was soft, careful, nothing like the reckless desperation of the past.

It felt like home.

And maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to let yourself have this.

Paige had been nothing but perfect these past few weeks. The way she handled you with care, the way she was making up for everything—there wasn’t a moment you doubted that she wanted this, that she wanted you. And for the first time in a long time, things were steady, safe.

Until now.

You hadn’t meant to spiral. You hadn’t meant to let the past claw its way back into your mind and wrap around your heart like a vice, but the moment you saw Azzi’s name attached to a post, everything cracked.

Her name was everywhere.

She was back in town for a WNBA event, one that Paige was also attending.

And suddenly, everything felt off-kilter.

You tried to ignore it.

Tried to remind yourself that Paige was here, with you, that she had chosen you.

But the past had a way of creeping up when you least expected it.

Paige noticed your shift immediately.

“You okay?” she asked, her hand warm over yours.

You nodded, too quickly. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Paige frowned, unconvinced. “You sure?”

You forced a smile. “Positive.”

But you both knew it was a lie.

Because for the first time since you had let her back in, you felt the creeping weight of doubt.

And you hated it.

Paige had promised to keep you updated.

She was out with her old teammates for the WNBA event—nothing crazy, just catching up with the people who had been her family for years.

And true to her word, she sent little updates throughout the night.

Paige: Just got here. You’d love this restaurant.

Paige: Nika already started roasting me. Save me.

Paige: Aaliyah won’t stop talking about her dog. I might steal him.

You smiled at the messages, heart warm despite the small sting of unease. You weren’t jealous exactly. You just… didn’t like how much Azzi’s presence rattled you.

Paige was yours now.

She had worked for this.

She had chosen you.

So why did it feel like you were losing your grip on something fragile?

The answer came an hour later, when you casually opened Instagram and saw the stories.

Nika had posted first—just a blurry boomerang of the table, drinks clinking together. Harmless, laughter frozen in time. Paige was there, right where she said she’d be, and it shouldn’t have been a problem.

Then Aaliyah’s story. A candid shot of Paige leaning in close to Azzi, heads tilted in conversation. A short clip of the two of them laughing about something you weren’t in on. Familiarity. History. A connection you would never understand.

Your chest tightened. Your stomach twisted, your fingers tightening around your phone.

It was stupid, so stupid.

But you couldn’t stop the sinking feeling, the sharp ache in your chest.

Paige was supposed to be yours.

Why did it look like she was still hers?

You knew Paige was different now. You knew she loved you. But you had also seen her once, broken and desperate, begging Azzi not to leave. You had seen the way she had once needed her like air. And maybe Paige didn’t realize it, but you did.  And it hurt.

You didn’t even think before your fingers were typing, before you pressed send.

You: I can’t do this. We’re done. Don’t come back.

The weight in your chest grew heavier the second the message delivered. Your phone vibrated immediately after. Paige. Calling, then texting. You ignored each one.

Paige: What?? What are you talking about??

Paige: Baby, please, talk to me.

Your throat burned as you threw your phone onto the bed, gripping your hair. Why did this hurt so much? Why did you feel like you were right back where you started?

You had come so far. You had healed. Paige had healed.

So why did it feel like she was slipping through your fingers all over again?

Paige was losing it.

And for a long time, she just stared at it, rereading the words over and over as if they would change.

We’re done.

She didn’t understand.

What the hell had just happened?

She had rushed back to her hotel the moment she saw your text, heart hammering, mind racing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. You were finally good, she was finally good, and now this?

She pulled out her phone hoping to see your reply. Nothing. But then she saw it.

Aaliyah’s story.

Azzi next to her, too close, too familiar.

Realization hit Paige like a truck.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Standing abruptly and grabbing her things.

“Where are you going?” Nika asked, raising a brow. They followed Paige back to the hotel.

The stories. That’s the only thing it could be. The way you ghosted her, the way you shut her out—it had to be because of what you saw.

But it wasn’t what you thought. Not even close.

Paige paced her hotel room before making a decision. She grabbed her jacket and turned to Azzi, who sat on the couch, watching her cautiously.

“I need you to come with me,” Paige said, voice tight. “I need you to help me fix this.”

Azzi frowned. “Paige—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need her to hear it from you. Please.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The knocking on your door was relentless. You sat curled up on the couch, hugging your knees, willing it all to stop. But Paige was nothing if not persistent.

“Please open the door,” Paige’s voice came through, raw and strained. “Please, baby. I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

You stayed still.

Then another voice. Softer. Hesitant.

“It’s Azzi.”

That made you flinch. You weren’t expecting that. You weren’t sure you even wanted to see her, but something about her tone made you move.

With a deep breath, you opened the door. Paige looked wrecked, eyes desperate, hands clenched like she was holding herself back from reaching for you. And beside her stood Azzi, quiet but resolute.

Paige took a step forward, but Azzi gently held her back. “Let me talk to her first.”

Paige hesitated, jaw tightening, but she nodded and stepped away.

You swallowed, stepping back to let Azzi inside. The air between you was thick, heavy with unspoken things.

Azzi sighed, running a hand through her hair before meeting your eyes. “Look. I know why you’re upset. And I get it.”

You clenched your fists. “Do you?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I do. Because I was there when Paige was falling apart over me, and I know how hard that must be for you to forget.”

You exhaled sharply, looking away.

“But that’s not what’s happening here,” Azzi continued. “I’m not here for Paige. I haven’t been for a long time. And Paige isn’t here for me.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Then what was that? What did I see?”

Azzi smiled sadly. “Two people with a lot of history catching up. That’s all.” She tilted her head, watching you. “Paige only talked about you. About how happy she finally is. About how she doesn’t want to mess this up.”

Your breath hitched.

“She loves you,” Azzi said, firm but kind. “And if you love her too, then don’t let your fears ruin what you two have built.”

You closed your eyes, shoulders sinking. You knew she was right. You had known the second you sent that text that it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t what you truly wanted.

Azzi hesitated before adding, “And you know, even when we were together… Paige had her eyes on you then.”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

Azzi gave a small, knowing smile. “She used to tell me stories about this girl in her psych class. How smart she was, how she always had the right answers, how she carried herself.” She chuckled dryly. “I should’ve known then.”

You swallowed hard.

“I even saw a picture of you on her phone once. A candid. I let it slide. Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Azzi looked down. “But when I saw those pictures of you two kissing that night, it clicked. You think she just randomly picked you? Paige may be bad at her decisions but her self-control is everything. I knew right away that I’d already lost.” She exhaled. “Paige was just too stupid to realize where her heart belonged sooner.”

Shock washed over you. Your mind raced, connecting the dots, seeing the truth that had been right there all along.

Azzi sighed, stepping back toward the door. “Talk to her.”

She opened it, revealing Paige still standing there, arms wrapped around herself like she was holding herself together. Her eyes were glassy, pleading, hopeful.

Azzi gave her a small nod before stepping out, leaving you alone with Paige.

Paige took a shaky breath. “Please don’t leave me.”

Your heart clenched.

“I swear to you, I only want you,” she whispered, stepping forward. “If I have to spend every day proving that to you, I will.”

You bit your lip, trying to stay firm, but the pain in her voice cracked something in you.

Paige reached for your hand, gripping it tightly. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was time to stop running.

Maybe it was time to believe.

The weight of the misunderstanding still lingered in the air, but as Paige sat beside you on your couch, her fingers idly tracing circles on the back of your hand, you realized something—you didn’t want to waste any more time being afraid.

She had proven herself. Over and over again. And now, with everything out in the open, there was nothing left to doubt.

You turned to her, watching as she stared down at your hands, like she was afraid to meet your eyes. You smirked a little, the tension finally ebbing away. "So… all this time?"

Paige blinked, glancing up. "Huh?"

"All this time," you repeated, amusement dancing in your voice. "You had your eyes on me even when you were with Azzi?"

Paige let out a groan, immediately covering her face with her free hand. "Oh my God. We just fixed things, don’t make me die of embarrassment now."

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in days. "I mean, it’s kind of a big deal. Azzi straight-up told me she caught you talking about me all the time, and that she even saw a picture of me on your phone before. Paige, you were so obvious."

Paige peeked through her fingers, her face flushed. "I wasn't obvious."

You raised an eyebrow. "You told your girlfriend back then that there was a girl in your psych class who was so smart and cool."

Paige groaned again, flopping onto your lap. "I hate this. I hate that Azzi told you everything."

You grinned, running your fingers through her hair. "So, it’s true then? You’ve been into me since way back?"

Paige let out a dramatic sigh, her warm breath against your thigh. "Fine. Yes. I had a stupid crush on you since psych class. Happy now?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm. I don't know. I might need more details."

She turned her head to look up at you, her eyes soft and affectionate. "You really want to know?"

You nodded, and she sat up, shifting so she could face you properly. Taking your hands in hers, she squeezed lightly. "You were different from everyone else. You never looked at me like I was some superstar or some untouchable athlete. You just—" Paige exhaled, shaking her head as if she were back in that time. "You treated me like a normal person. Like I was just some girl in your class who had to work for your attention. And I—I liked that more than I should have."

You swallowed, your chest warming. "Paige…"

She let out a small, nervous laugh. "I didn’t even realize what it meant back then. I just knew that I always found myself looking for you in class, wanting to impress you, wanting to make you laugh. And when I saw you at that bar that night…" Her thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I guess a part of me just couldn’t resist anymore."

Your heart thudded in your chest. "You really are stupid, huh?"

Paige laughed, shaking her head. "The absolute worst."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Lucky for you, I have a soft spot for idiots."

She grinned against your mouth, her arms wrapping around you to pull you close. "Yeah? Think you can keep loving this idiot?"

You smiled, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I already do."

Paige’s breath hitched, her arms tightening around you before she kissed you again, deeper this time. Everything that had weighed you both down before was gone, replaced with warmth, certainty, and love.

And for once, there was no fear—just you and Paige, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Mornings were slow and peaceful now. No more waking up with a knot in your stomach, no more wondering if you’d lose Paige again. Instead, there was warmth—Paige’s arms wrapped around you, her steady breathing against your neck, the sleepy murmurs of her voice as she pulled you closer, reluctant to start the day without at least ten more minutes of holding you.

“Babe,” you mumbled, shifting in her embrace. “We have to get up.”

Paige groaned, tightening her grip. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

“Did I?” she teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “My bad. Guess we’re stuck here forever.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was full. This was your daily life now—waking up next to Paige, teasing each other, lingering in bed because neither of you wanted to leave the comfort of your little world.

Eventually, you managed to slip out of her grasp and start breakfast, but Paige wasn’t far behind. She walked into the kitchen, hair messy. She looked at you with that lazy, lopsided grin, the one that made your heart stutter even now.

“What’s on the menu, chef?” she asked, resting her chin on your shoulder as you flipped a pancake.

“Food you don’t deserve after trying to trap me in bed all morning.”

Paige laughed, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I was only trying to make up for all those wasted years when I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me.”

You smirked, setting the spatula down. “Oh? You mean all those years you spent secretly pining over me while dating Azzi?”

Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face in your neck. “Are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“Never,” you teased, turning in her arms. “It’s my favorite thing to think about. Little freshman Paige, sitting in psych class, staring at me instead of taking notes.”

She huffed but couldn’t hide the sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Right,” you drawled. “Just admiring from afar?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. “Fine. Maybe I did have a tiny, minuscule, microscopic crush on you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Microscopic, huh? So microscopic you had a picture of me on your phone?”

Paige groaned again, resting her forehead against yours. “I should’ve never let Azzi tell you that.”

You chuckled, feeling entirely too smug. “Too late. I’m never letting it go.”

Paige sighed dramatically before pulling you in for a kiss, soft and slow. “If it makes you feel any better,” she murmured against your lips, “I like you even more now.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, breakfast completely forgotten. “You better.”

The rest of the day was a blur of happiness—Paige stealing bites of your food, arguing over what to watch on Netflix, going on a late afternoon walk just to enjoy the fresh air. The simplicity of it all made your chest ache in the best way. No drama, no lingering doubts. Just love, in its purest form.

That night, curled up on the couch with Paige’s head in your lap, you ran your fingers through her hair, thinking about how far you’d both come.

“You still awake?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah.”

Paige tilted her head up, gazing at you with soft, sleepy eyes. “Are you happy?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really am.”

Paige smiled, the kind that made your whole world feel lighter. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”

You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’m counting on it.”

And in that moment, with Paige curled against you, breathing steady and heart completely yours, you knew—this was it. This was home. This was forever.

Life with Paige had settled into a rhythm that felt like home. Every morning, she’d wake up first, pressing sleepy kisses to your forehead before heading to practice. You’d get up an hour later, working on your own career, whether from home or at your office downtown. Evenings were spent together, sometimes attending games, sometimes watching them from the couch, Paige curled against you as she dissected plays and strategies between bites of popcorn.

But tonight was different.

You were standing on a rooftop overlooking the city, fairy lights casting a warm glow, the soft hum of music playing in the background. Paige stood before you, fidgeting slightly, her usual confidence laced with nervous energy.

“I had this whole speech planned,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “But my brain’s kind of short-circuiting right now, so I’m just gonna say it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as she took a deep breath and slowly lowered herself to one knee.

“I spent so many years running from my own feelings, pushing you away, hurting you because I was too scared to face the truth.” Her voice wavered, but her eyes were steady, full of emotion. “And yet, you still stayed in my heart. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I never want to spend another second pretending like I could ever live without you.”

She pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a ring—simple yet elegant, exactly your style.

“Will you marry me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You felt the breath leave your lungs, eyes stinging as you stared down at the woman who had once been your greatest heartbreak and was now your greatest love.

“Yes,” you whispered, then laughed, stronger this time. “Yes, Paige, of course.”

Relief and joy washed over her face as she slipped the ring onto your finger, standing quickly to pull you into her arms. The kiss was deep, full of promises and certainty. Around you, the city lights shimmered, but nothing shone brighter than the love between you two.

The months that followed were filled with wedding plans, career milestones, and unwavering support for each other. Paige continued to dominate on the court, leading her team to championships, while you flourished in your own field. No matter how busy life got, you both made time—time for dinner dates, for late-night drives, for simple moments that reminded you why you chose each other.

The wedding was everything you had dreamed of—intimate yet grand, surrounded by friends, family, and teammates who had seen your journey unfold. When Paige recited her vows, voice thick with emotion, you saw the girl from psych class, the girl who had spent years figuring out her heart, and the woman who now stood before you, completely and undeniably yours.

“I loved you before I even knew it,” Paige confessed, her hands trembling slightly as she held yours. “And I will love you for every day to come.”

And as you said your own vows, as you kissed her to the sound of cheers and applause, you knew—you had found your forever.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Was binging some Hero is Back content, and I just realised that post-story reuniting those babies with their families is gonna be hard work.

Dasheng really wants to go home right now, but these kiddos need to be safely sent to their homes first before he's ready to leave.

They probably need the dragon (called Canglong in the game) to figure out which babies belong to which parents. None of those kids have identifiers on them save for their dudous, and it would be difficult to narrow down which parents had their children openly stolen by trolls and/or simply disappear during the night.

I can see the guys having to bash some troll heads' in to tell them exactly where they got each kid, but seeing how smart the trolls seem to be... scent would most likely be the guiding force.

And that is of course is the trolls didn't just go the easy route and take the babies *without* parents at first...

Canglong: "I cannot find the remaining children's origins." Dasheng, comforting 10+ upset babies: "Eh!? Why Not?" Canglong: "No scent trail." Dasheng, concerned: "Eh? No scent? Then where did the trolls get them from?" Fa Ming: "It would make sense if the Hundun fellow sought young children, he would start by taking children without parents to protect them." Dasheng, realising: "Orphans." (*annoyed tch!*) Zhu Bajie: "What I want to know is who was taking care of them when Hundun was gathering the full hundred?" (*a nervous voice clears their throat. The adults turn to see a small crowd of demons - mountain trolls, boars, bats, and gibbons etc - who were under Hundun's command, all looking sheepish and a little worried. A few of the babies calm down at the sight of them.*) Mountain Troll, shyly: "Excuse me Mr Great Sage sir - can we have our human babies back?" (*all the adults share a look. The dragon sniffs between the remaining children and the demons before nodding affirmatively.*) Zhu Bajie: "Solves that mystery!"

In the game we see quiet a few different demon types, most curiously gibbon-like monkey demons. As the king of primates, SWK seems like the kinda monkey to ask questions about that...

Dasheng: "Why did you throw your lot in with that fiend? Is Mount Huaguo not still a paradise?" Gibbon Demon: "The chaos demon was threatening our cubs, my king. Alolai has been beset by tyrants once more, and many of us have tried gaining allies beyond our borders. Sadly, the Hundun asked for more than we were willing let part with." Dasheng: "And what was that?" Gibbon Demon, warm smile: "Our new cubs." (*the Gibbon demon pulls aside a sling on their chest, revealing two infants. One newborn gibbon demon, and one human toddler, both holding onto one another as if they were birth siblings.*) Dasheng, exasperated, fond chuckle: "Our kind has always been weak to cubs needing a family..." Zhu Bajie, teasing: "So it isn't just you then, eh?" Dasheng: (*is cradling Silly Girl while staying vigilant at Liuer's bedside as the boy heals*) Dasheng, flustered: "Shut up, or I'll make pork buns for dinner."

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Thinking about early David...(this jumps around a lot between pre-getting with angel and them in the first six months or so. Plus just a little real time bit)

Early David that was scared to be in love. Early David that had no frame of reference for what relationships should be. Early David, who was isolating himself in his grief, and had no clue the person with 20 piercings and weird shoes was going to squirm their way into his life. Early David snapping at everyone, to stubborn to apologize. Early David having a shit day and breaking down for the first time in months, not with his new partner, but with his best friend and his dad's jacket. Thinking about how tight Early David's chest probably got when Ash gave him his own jacket, just a few weeks after one of the first anniversaries of Gabes passing(the video where David teaches Angel to cook was right around the anniversary.) Early David struggling to stop working because if he wasn't working, he felt like he wasn't able to contribute anything. Early David finding solace in a scrappy investigator Milo started bringing around. Early David who was terrified to tell Angel he was a shifter. Early David that even before telling them, felt his core and wolf reaching for them. Early David who held them while they were sleeping, silently savoring the warmth that they brought to his bed. Early David that secretly bought something that he associated with Angels scent to keep on his pillow when they weren't around. Early Asher, who started feeling comfortable enough to start teasing him again. Early Milo that called him out the first time they were alone, out of concern for his friend. Early David trying to figure out when it was appropriate to tell them he loved them. Early David, who's shoulders relaxed when he was on the phone with them, and Ash, who absolutely noticed. Early Angel that already had the respect of most of the pack, because they not only helped their alpha, but they also brought David back. Early David, who started expressing when he wanted to hold Angel. Early David that could never hold eye contact when he and Angel argued. Early David, who started cooking breakfast for them every morning, they stayed long enough. Early David that started keeping extra water bottles when they went out. Early David that started appreciating the small things again.

David trusts his pack enough now to take time off without feeling guilty. David, whose favorite thing to do is lay between Angels' legs with his head on their chest and isn't ashamed to ask for it anymore. David leaves the good pretzels exactly where he knows Ash will look because that's what his dad always did when Asher was over as a kid. David, who keeps his ring on a chain and will run the ring up and down the chain when he's thinking. David keeping a polaroid of Angel, Asher, Milo, Darlin, and their mates in his wallet. David who's emergency contact isn't Angel, but Sweetheart. He knows that they can be rational and trusts them to deliver any news to the people who need to know. David, who has a journal he tries to update as often as possible. David, who has orange blossoms and honeysuckle, tattooed across his back and parts of his shoulder. He also has a small set of angel wings on the inside of his left wrist. David, Ash, Darlin, Milo, and Christian all shift with the younger members of the pack to play with them and teach them to wrestle. They all love helping with pack kids, even before they've started shifting and if they're a completely different kind of empowered person. David at less serious pack meetings that always has at least one kid hanging off of him that he basically ignores but is still hyper aware of (think Miguel in that one scene from across the spiderverse with Peter B's baby.) David that takes Angel on fancy dates sometimes, but prefers it when the two of them do something at home, from crafts to cooking to gaming. Whatever they feel like, as long as it's the two of them together.

[dsireland86]

Nick and Noah at odds over the reader has me screaming. If Noah behaves, maybe he can sit in the cuck chair one day.

Ohhhh, the cuck chair..... Damn! lol For those of you who don't know what this is... That single chair in a hotel room that’s always somehow facing the bed. EXP: we took him back to our hotel room and I sat in the cuck chair and watched.

So yeah... maybe that should be the name of this story 🤣🤣🤣🤣

AUTHORS NOTE: This one got a little out of hand and little too long maybe. I don't know. My head wandered a lot as it explored so may different options on how it could go. I ended up deciding that this story is going to lead into another one that's sitting in my inbox as a request. So hang tight it you want to know what happens next!!

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn  @flowery-mess  @bloody-spades @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

The moment they met, it was obvious they clashed. Her sweet, bubbly personality always got on his nerves, and his moody ass teenager vibes rubbed her the wrong way. But they were stuck with each other because of the one person they had in common; Bryan.

Y/N was Bryan's best friend's sister who was working under him for the summer. She needed the experience for the BFA degree she was working towards. The offer wasn't exactly what Y/N was hoping for because she hated traveling, and the idea of being the only female didn't help either. But it was a job, and it paid well, so she sucked it up and agreed.

She met the guys a little over a month before the tour started, and immediately, it was easy to see it was a perfect fit. They bonded over many of the same things, and their personalities were in sync most of the time. For Y/N, it was a relief.

But like most situations, there had to be that one who became a headache; a constant pain in the ass and a thorn in the side. For Y/N, that was Noah.

Things started out okay between the two of them, but Noah's quiet and reserved nature always kept him from stepping out and getting to know Y/N more than it should have. His shyness was mistaken for rudeness, and that's when things started going downhill. Y/N put up walls to keep Noah's mediocre comments from affecting her, but a lot of the time, it didn't do much good. 

There was constant bickering between them, no matter how much they tried avoiding each other. But in such a small, confined space of the tour bus there was only so much they could do. They always seemed to find a way to get under the other's skin and pick, making life on the road harder than it should've been. It was madness, and it needed to end.

"You just need to chill, dude. Y/N's a really nice girl," Nicholas said one day as he and Noah were at the warehouse helping to pack up some of the equipment.

"Yeah too, nice," Noah muttered, handing Nick a box of cables. "Her personality gives me a freaking headache. Nobody can ever stay that nice for so long. It's fake. She's fake.”

"Damn, someone's overly critical! You know it wouldn't kill you to believe that there really are just some genuinely nice people in the world, Noah," Nick snapped, closing the lid to the equipment case.

"It's not that. It's the little ticks she has. Have you ever noticed how she covers her mouth when she eats? Or how she sits with her feet tucked up under her no matter where she's sitting? Or, or what about how she always smells like something different every day? It's like, just pick a scent and stick with it. I wonder how many bottles of perfume she actually has."

Nicholas just stared at Noah in disbelief, shaking his head. 

"You're ridiculous, you know that? For someone who doesn't like her at all, you sure have noticed a lot of stuff. What do you do, stalk her when she's not looking?” 

Noah huffed, placing his hands on his hips and blowing upward to move the hair off his forehead.

"No," he denied, giving Nick a disgusted face.

"Yeah, okay,” Nick replied sarcastically. 

"I don't! I can't freaking stand her!" Noah cried. "And just the thought of having to spend seven weeks with her is killing my touring vibe. I don't understand why she has to come."

"Dude, she works for Bryan. At least try and play nice for his sake.”

Nicholas was right, and Noah knew it. He glanced over at Y/N who was talking with Bryan and laughing as they messed around with their cameras, and realized for the first time that Y/N was really, really, pretty. But it was the pretty ones who were always the craziest.

Three weeks into the tour, things began to shift. Y/N and Nick started to hang out a lot together, constantly flirting and texting back and forth. One night, Noah could swear he heard Nick in the bunk above him, getting himself off and moaning Y/N's name. The thought stirred up so many mixed feelings inside Noah that it kept him up almost the rest of the night. When he woke up the next morning, he found Nick and Y/N sitting at one of the tables in the mini kitchen as Nick tattooed a drawing in henna ink all over Y/N's hand and up her forearm. They were giggling and talking softly to one another when Noah walked in. Y/N was the first to look up and she smiled sweetly at him. The gesture knocked Noah off his high horse forcing him to fight the feeling of what her smile did to him for the rest of the day. 

Later that night after the show Noah climbed into the bus, way too exhausted to go out for food with the others. He began to strip off his aftershow clothes and almost climbed into his bunk when the sound of soft moans and whispers came from the very back of the bus. He snuck back quietly enough to see Nick and Y/N curled up on the couch in the middle of a hot and heavy make-out session. Through the small crack in the sliding door, Noah watched the two of them as their bodies grinded against one anothers and their hands glided over the skin that was slowly being revealed by each move made. Noah knew it was wrong to spy, but he was so turned on by the sounds Y/N's was making and the way her body moved beneath Nick's touch as he slid his hand inside her leggings, claiming her sweet spot with only his fingers. From the way her back arched and she bit her bottom lip to the way she pushed on Nick's hand no doubt forcing his fingers deeper into her had Noah reaching down to palm his growing excitement that was swollen and tender to the touch. Watching her get aroused made him aroused to the point he was aching to relieve himself. 

As Y/N's quiet needy moans grew louder, Noah moved his hand faster until he reached his peak, exploding his cum all over his hand just as Y/N reached her orgasm. Her loud moan that turned into a sharp cry had Noah weak as fuck as he watched her wiggle and writhe beneath his best friend who had her pinned down against the leather couch, kissing her lips before sliding down between her legs to clean up the mess she'd just made. Just when Noah thought Y/N couldn't get any hotter, she proved him wrong the moment Nick attached his mouth to that decadent sweet spot between her legs, lapping up the remaining traces of her orgasm before moving on to suck her clit. The sounds Y/N made were maddening, hitting every sensual nerve in Noah's body. 

Nick let up on her pussy and stood up to take off his pants. He climbed on top of Y/N, pinning her arms against the couch cushions with his knees, and told her to open. Willingly, she obeyed and for the next few minutes Noah watched his usually sweet, quiet friend degrade the girl beneath him while fucking her mouth. The words that spilled from Nick's mouth regarding Y/N and what was happening between them shocked the hell out of Noah. They were desecrating and filthy, but seemed to be exactly what Y/N liked. She worked Nick well enough to pull him over the edge, causing his release to fill her mouth as he kept her pinned to the couch, forcing her to swallow every bit of him. it. The scene was so intense, so erotic, and completely unexpected. It engraved itself in the deepest, darkest parts of Noah's mind, replaying over and over like a broken record. From that moment on, he knew he’d never look at Y/N the same again.

Fuck that! I'll sleep in the hotel lobby before that happens!"

"You can't. They'll kick you out."

"I'll sleep on the bus, then."

"It's in the garage. That's the reason we're here numb-nuts. Remember?" Matt sighed. 

"Fuck!" Noah yelled in the hallway of the hotel. The other guests stared at him, and Noah's only response was to roll his eyes and look away.

"Matt, please switch with me! I'll do anything."

"Nope. I can't handle Nick's snoring. The dude sounds like a freaking freight train."

Noah rolled his eyes again, growling in frustration.

"Folio, hey! Switch with me, please. I'll die if I have to stay in the same room with her."

"No can do, buddy."

Noah cocked an eyebrow. "What's your excuse?"

"I just don't want to."

Noah's face fell.

"Look, maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe, if you actually get to know Y/N, you'll find out that she's actually a really nice person."

"I doubt that," Noah muttered to himself.

“God, Noah, stop being so fucking childish,” Matt yelled over his shoulder as he headed to the room he was sharing with Folio and Jolly.

Noah growled with frustration, running his hands through his hair and squeezing tightly. He had to do something. He couldn’t spend the next two nights with Nick and Y/N, pretending he hadn’t seen what happened between them the other night. Eventually it was going to slip that he had and Noah was terrified it would blow up in his face.

Y/N and Nick turned the corner of the hotel hallway, their arms full of personal items from the bus. They were engaged in conversation, smiling and laughing like always, the moment Y/N looked up and saw Noah. But instead of the smile fading like usual, it lingered, causing Noah’s muscles to tighten from the arousal spreading through his nervous system like a fire. It got his hands shaking and his heart racing, and as much as he wanted to deny it, Noah finally admitted to himself that he liked the way it made him feel.

"Looks like we're roomies," Nicholas said when they met up with Noah.

"Yeah, looks like," Noah replied, running his eyes quickly up and down Y/N.

She seemed to be sizing Noah up just as much as he was her. But unlike Noah, she took her time dragging her eyes down the length of his long legs and then back up, lingering a little longer on his torso to admire his ink. Y/N slowly looked up, licking her lips before pulling the top one between her teeth. When her eyes met his, Noah felt like a bolt of electricity hit him right in the heart. Nick looked from one to the other, frowning.

"Umm, maybe I should sleep in a different room and let the two of you eye fuck each other privately," Nichols said, pointing out the way Noah and Y/N were looking at each other.

Noah took a deep breath, flaring his nostrils and clenching his jaw, finally pulling his eyes away.

"Dude, what are you talking about? Let's just go to the room. I'm tired," Noah sighed as he turned and started walking down the hallway, scoping the walls for their room number.

"Is it just me, or is Noah acting weird?"

Y/N didn't answer. She was too deep into watching Noah's tall frame glide down the hall. It did it for her. It had her head reeling with thoughts and ideas about what Noah was hiding beneath all those clothes.

"Y/N!"

Y/N turned and faced Nick. "What!"

"Whoa, easy killer," Nick said, eyes widening.

"Well, why are you yelling at me?" she asked as she began to follow Noah, no longer staring at him.

"Because you were about to burn holes into Noah’s back from staring at him like you were!”

Y/N felt the heat spreading to her cheeks.

"You two seriously need to sort out your shit with each other. I hope you don't plan on bickering with each other the whole time were staying in this room together.”

Nicholas had a feeling Y/N wasn't listening to him at all. Her head was down as she sluggishly walked the hall to their room. Nick stopped her the moment Noah rounded the corner up ahead.

"Hey." He swung his arm out gently in front to stop her.

Y/N looked at Nick, falling instantly into the well of comfort that the greenness of his eyes always brought. Her eyes drifted from them to his lips, and suddenly, she wanted to taste them. Leaning in, she kissed him slowly, but sweetly. Her cute little giggles filled the air around them the moment Nick trailed his lips over her jawline and down her neck where he nipped her skin slightly. Y/N gasped and squeezed her eyes shut from the feeling that slammed into her sex instantly, making her wet between her thighs.

"Can I do more of that to you tonight," Nick asked sweetly, as they started to walk again.

"No! Are you crazy!" Y/N cried, shoving Nick away as he laughed. "You're sleeping in the other bed with Noah."

"Oh the hell, I'm not. Noah flops around like a dead fish and takes up almost all of the room when he sleeps. I'll take my chances cuddling with you," Nick grins, pecking her lips.

"Oh come one! Seriously!"

Nick shot her a quick wink and a mischievous grin right before he reached the room.

"Nick... I don't like that look. What is that look?" Y/N asked, her tone thick with worry. 

Jogging to catch up, she tried to catch the door before it closed behind him, but failed in the end. Groaning, Y/N’s forehead hit the door with a light bang and the door swung open, causing her to almost fall face first. Instead, she fell right into the arms and chest of Noah.

“Wow,” he cried, catching her and her things before all of it fell. Y/N gasped. 

As he looked down at her Noah noticed for the first time just how pretty Y/N really was. All he could do was stare, forgetting what he was even doing.

"Sorry,” she said, adjusting the things in her arms. “I know I’m not who you wanted to see. Nick let the door close behind him just as I was,"

"It's fine," Noah said, cutting her off mid sentence. "Here let me help," and he took some of her things out of her hands, freeing one. At first, she just stared at Noah oddly, but the small smirk that crept over her lips and lingered in the corner was all the answer Noah needed to know she was grateful. He stepped back to let her through, feeling his dick twitch the moment she walked past him and felt her hand purposely brush against his leg. Grinning, Noah closed the door, feeling a little hopeful that the next two days wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

Noah woke up, staring into total blackness. The noise had pulled him from a sleep that hadn't come easily to him after fighting with his insomnia for half the night. It took a minute for the noise to register before Noah realized it was Nick's snoring. Fuck. He'd forgotten just how bad it could be sometimes. Matt was right.

'Y/N," he whispered, hoping by some chance that she was awake. When she didn't answer, Noah tried again. The only response was another loud snore from Nick. "Holy shit, dude, shut up," Noah grumbled, hitting him lightly with a pillow. Nick stirred but stayed asleep, and the snoring ceased, for a little while anyway. Still, Noah wasn't willing to lose any more sleep. He got up and made his way slowly through the dark, over to Y/N's bed. He felt around, trying to find her body, and when he didn't feel anything, Noah took the liberty to climb in next to her.

"Nick?"

Noah froze.

"No," he whispered.

"Noah! What are you doing?" Y/N whispered loudly, her tone laced with panic and irritability. She shifted in the bed, and suddenly, their side of the room filled with light. Both of them squinted as their eyes tried to adjust.

"What the hell, turn the light off!"

"Not until you tell me why you're in my bed!"

Noah remained silent.

"I won't until you tell me why you thought I was Nick."

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"God, you're so freaking childish, Noah."

"What, are you two sleeping together or something?"

Noah's mind went straight to the other day, and how her body moved under the touch of Nick's fingers inside her.

"What! No!"

Noah narrowed his eyes.

"Nick and I have not slept together, Noah," she reaffirmed with wide eyes.

"Then why did you think I was him?"

Y/N just sat there, looking at Noah as if he had two heads.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Why can't you just answer the question, Y/N?"

"Why do I feel like I always have to prove myself to you."

Noah scowled.

"Prove what?"  shifting on the bed to look at her better.

Y/N looked away, shaking her head.

"You know what, never mind, Noah. Just forget about it," she sighed before turning off the light.

Y/N laid back down as close to the edge as possible without falling off, with her back towards Noah. Even through the darkness, Noah could feel the tension. And he hated it. But he hated that he hated it more. He wasn't supposed to care or feel bad about anything he said or did to Y/N, yet at that moment, he did. He felt horrible.

"Y/N," he whispered, reaching through the darkness and laying his hand softly on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, but that didn't stop Noah from doing it again. A bright light filled the room as Y/N's phone flashlight lit up the small corner. She sat up and drew her legs up to her chest before looking over at Noah.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

Y/N's words were like a bullet to Noah's chest.

"I don't."

"Could've fooled me," she retorted. "For the last few weeks we've been at each other's throats, Noah. Why? I've tried to be nothing but nice to you, yet all you've ever been is an asshole to me.”

Noah stayed quiet, too speechless to even try to explain or defend himself.

Sighing, Y/N dropped her legs and crossed them under her, one of Noah's little ticks about her, but now, it seemed to be one of the cutest things about her, how she was small enough to form her legs in a position like that.

"I thought you were Nick because he said that when you sleep, you take up the whole bed, and that he was going to sleep with me instead. I don't know," she shook her head, "it's stupid. Just forget it," she said again, this time getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

Noah acted on impulse and followed her, surprising Y/N when he entered behind her, keeping the bathroom light off. The faint glow of her phone flashlight was just enough for him to make out the outline of her silhouette

"What the hell, really? I have to pee."

Noah shrugged.

"I won't look. I can't really see anything anyway."

Y/N growled in frustration. She pulled her sleepy shorts down and sat on the toilet to do her business.

"I saw the two of you," Noah said quietly, cutting into the sound of Y/N relieving herself.

"What are you talking about, Noah?" she asked in annoyance.

"A few days ago on the bus, in the back lounge. I saw you and Nick making out."

"You what?" Y/N’s tone was laced with panic.

"You liked it when Nick fucked you with his fingers, didn't you? Touching you in a place so warm and personal."

Y/N remained quiet as she wiped herself and flushed, making Noah wonder what she was thinking. After pulling her shorts up she went to the sink to wash her hands when the bathroom door closed, locking them both into a world of complete darkness and silence, their bodies no longer visible to the other. But Noah knew just where to find her and was on her instantly, pinning her against the sink.

"The sounds you made drove me insane. The way he pleasured you, forcing your body to react so beautifully had me touching myself.” 

Y/N swallowed hard, whimpering as she gripped the edge of the sink counter. Noah pressed up against her backside, making sure she could feel his hardened length. His behavior was completely out of line and never, in a million years, could she figure out the sudden change in him and why he was doing what he was doing. But she liked it. More than she knew she should.

“I watched him hold you down and fuck your mouth, too, making you swallow all of him when he came,” Noah continued, his voice low and hoarse from the sudden dryness in his throat. “You liked it when he degraded you, calling you his little slut, didn't you?” 

Noah slid his hands up the sides of Y/N’s thighs and under her shorts, finding the fabric of her panties and tugging on them. Her small little whimper made his cock twitch as did the feeling of her head falling back against his chest.

“For a moment, I wanted to be him just so I could feel you inside as I slowly fuck your inner walls and make you cum. Would you let me do that to you as easily as you let Nick, or is it true that you really are just his little slut?”

“Noah, stop,” Y/N whimpered, almost crying. “We hate each other, remember? We have nothing in common and fight all the time.” 

“Not anymore, Y/N. I can’t stop. You’re all I think about,” Noah confessed, his voice low and deeper than Y/N had ever heard it before. It was almost like he was afraid to admit it. “"I need to kiss you.”

Even through the dark Noah knew she was staring at him the moment he turned her around. Skimming his long fingers lightly down her face, he felt the tears as they smeared across her skin and the way she tilted her head up, allowing him a little more access. His fingers lingered on her lips, tugging at the bottom one.

"Why? You don't like me enough to want to kiss me," Y/N reminded him quietly, reaching through the darkness to find him. Her hands found his bare waist and gripped it, slightly digging her nails into his skin, making Noah growl.

"I didn't say I wanted to. I said I needed to," he reminded her, and before Y/N could take a breath, Noah's lips were on hers, entrapping them in a crushing kiss that stole the breath from both of them. 

In the dark, in the silence, they were alone. Nobody watching, no judgement, no words from others to break the spell they were under, just them, their hands, and their lips.

Noah pulled Y/N away from the sink and walked her back, pushing her up against the bathroom door. They were gasping and writhing at each other’s touch as he yanked at her clothes, desperately trying to touch her and feel more of her skin, to take what he wanted. He kissed her until kissing wasn't enough.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded against her lips.

"I don't know what I want," Y/N whined, as Noah grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

"Yes, you do, baby, tell me," letting one of his hands slip between her bare thighs and cupping her sex. He rubbed it with the heel of his hand. making Y/N moan a little louder and buck her hips.

"Noah," she whispered, as his lips ghosted hers.

"Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it," he assured her, slipping his fingers under her shorts and over her damp panties.

"I didn't say you could touch me," Y/N protested.

Noah hummed, obviously amused.

"Then tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want me to touch you like this," sliding two fingers inside her."

Her breath choked as she gasped and threw her head back against the door. Something in her chest constricted, creating a fire and a passion inside her for Noah. 

"Mmm, yeah you want this, otherwise you wouldn't be clenching around my fingers. Fuck, baby," Noah groaned, keeping both of Y/N's hands pinned up against the door. His tongue slid into her mouth to keep her quiet.

Y/N grinded on Noah's fingers, bucking her hips and arching her back away from the door. Her protests turned into a wild panting that whispered for more and Noah gave her what she wanted, thrusting hard into her and rubbing her clit with his thumb, until her legs were weak and shaking. Her tongue licked his, in long teasing movements, so gently, so softly. Noah had never been kissed like that before and knew after it was all over he never would again; unless it was with Y/N. 

"Noah, fuck I'm about to cum, oh god," Y/N whined, her knees buckling. "Don't stop, don't stop," she pleaded.

"I won't. Just give me the satisfaction and do it," he promised.

The swelling heat consumed Y/N's lower abdomen, ripping a loud, wanting moan out of her chest as her walls crumbled around Noah's fingers, and her orgasm crashed into her. Noah covered her mouth with his, to mask one of the prettiest sounds he'd ever heard, fighting his own orgasm that was threatening to consume him. After a few moments had passed, Noah finally released Y/N's arms and pulled his fingers out from inside her and her shorts. They stayed in the darkness a little while, listening to each other's breathing calm down, until finally, Y/N opened the bathroom door and left without uttering a single word to Noah.

"I don't fucking understand how it could happen. Days ago you couldn't stand Y/N and now you're telling me you might have feelings for her?"

Noah filled his cup with orange juice from the breakfast bar in the downstairs dining area of the hotel, clenching his jaw tight, in hopes of not letting the wrong thing slip.

"It just happened, okay. You were snoring so damn loud that I couldn't sleep, so I went over to her bed, hoping I could get some peace and quiet. Then she woke up and we talked, and then she went to the bathroom and I followed her so we could finish and then, well... yeah."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Noah. You didn't have to do it in the bathroom is all I'm saying. It echoes you know."

Nicholas grabbed the banana, shooting Noah a heated glare.

"Why? It's not like the two of you are together. Y/N's free to do whatever she wants."

Nick turned around faster than Noah expected, almost spilling his juice on himself.

"You're not going to fuck with her just because you think you can, Noah. Y/N's not a toy to be used."

"I never said she was."

"Then," but Nick cut his words short, looking over shoulder.

Noah followed his gaze, meeting Y/N's instantly. Her cheeks turned a pale shade of red the moment she saw him. The memory of possessing her body the way he did last night engulfed Noah's mind. The scent of her cum that lingered on his fingers, the feeling of her lips and his tongue in her mouth that stayed with him all through the night raged through his veins, screaming for release again. Y/N quickly looked away, joining the line of other guests in the breakfast line.

She pulled at Nick's clothes the moment they walked into the room. Now that they were alone, there was no way she was holding back the things she'd been aching to do with him. Grabbing the end of his shirt, Y/N practically ripped off Nick, throwing it to the floor before diving back into his mouth to devour him. Nicholas had his hands everywhere on her body, finally settling for the button of her jeans and undoing it just as quickly as she'd pulled off his shirt.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he paused, before walking her towards the bed.

Y/N looked up into Nick's sweet face, kissing his lips again. She wanted this. She wanted him.

"Only if you are?"

A wide grin spread across Nick's face as he nodded his head.

"But I have one condition," he breathed through another one of her kisses.

"Okay. What?" she agreed as Nick pushed her jeans down and squatted to slide them off. He kissed his way back up her thighs, loving the way she sighed and held the sides of his head to help guide him back to her lips.

"I told him if he behaved himself, he could watch."

"What are you talking about, Nick?" Y/N mumbled, too busy undoing the front of his jeans to really care.

"I'm talking about Noah."

"Noah?"

Nick nodded slowly.

"I know what the two of you did last night, Y/N. I heard you."

Y/N instantly looked away, embarrassed that her and Noah's secret wasn't really secret anymore.

"Hey, it's fine. Don't worry," Nick assured her, leaning in and ghosting his lips against her cheek. “You sounded so good.”

"She felt so good, too," came the sound of Noah's voice from behind her.

Quickly, Y/N turned around, meeting Noah's hot gaze.

"The feeling of her warm cum on my fingers turned me into a possessive motherfucker," he admitted, standing up from the chair he'd been sitting in, watching the two of them.

Y/N was frozen in shock, unable to move let alone say anything. Noah came close, standing in front of her and ran his fingers over the skin of her thighs. Y/N shivered beneath his touch.

"Can I watch, princess? I promise I won't say a word," Noah vowed, sweetly. Her mouth went dry, her breath catching in the back of her throat. It was wrong. She knew it, to allow Noah to watch something that should only be private between her and Nick. But the idea gave her goosebumps.

"Can I?" Noah asked again, his warm breath dancing on the lob of her ear as he leaned in closer.

"Yes," she croaked, clearing her throat before repeating the word again.

Noah smiled softly. He placed a kiss gently on her forehead, and without speaking another word, he turned around and walked back to the chair, retaking his spot. Nicholas didn't give her time to think about anything else other than the feeling of his hands on her as he turned her around to face him.

"What is it baby? You seemed distracted now," he said, smirk curling his soft lips. Y/N reached up and ran her fingers over them. She blushed, biting her lower lip, but couldn't look away. Nick's lips brushed over her ear as he planted them on the hollow of her neck, making her whimper.

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it," he vowed.

"I, uh," Y/N thought she was going to pass out from the way Nick was making her feel, her arousal thick, hot, and heavy. "I want you to touch me more, Nick. Please, I need you too," she begged sweetly.

He smiled against her throat.

"That's all I needed to hear."

With his eyes locked with Noah's, Nicholas taunted his friend as he pulled Y/N's tank top up higher and pressed warm, wet kisses along her chest, pulling the sexiest little moans out of her. She arched into his touch as he removed her top, revealing her bare breasts to Nick's hungry eyes.

"So fucking beautiful," he groaned, taking one into his mouth and sucking it lightly. Y/N cried out in pleasure, running her nails down his shoulder. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, nipping the tip with his teeth, forcing Y/N to feel it hit the center of her pleasure.

Her hands pulled Nick closer as her tongue explored his mouth. His lips moved with hers in a rhythm they created together, creating the need for more friction. Tugging on his jeans, Y/N yanked them down, forcing Nick to sit on the edge of the bed to take them off. Once he did, Y/N was in his lap, with her hand wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping it until the milky precum seeped through the tip.

"Fuck me, Y/N. Bury me inside you and ride me until you cum," Nick pleaded.

Eagerly, she gave Nick what he asked for. With her chest pressed tightly against his, Y/N took Nick into her, pushing and pulling him through her wet hot walls until he bottomed out. Then she rode him, hard, fast, and mercilessly. Nick couldn't stay quiet. He talked her through it all, telling her what he wanted and how he liked it and each time he praised her, she cried for him a little louder.

Noah watched silently, touching himself just from the sight of Y/N naked, moving like a goddess in the dimly lit room. She seemed to be a pro at fucking, looking like liquid silk as she worked herself harder against Nick. How had he never seen her like this before? How had Noah never realized just how unbelievably sexy Y/N really was?

"Fuck!" Nick yelled over one of Y/N's needy moans. "I'm about to cum, beautiful," he panted, wrenching down on her hips. Pulling her closer, Nick embraced her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body as he poured his seed into her. He didn't want to let her go, and thankfully, she didn't want him to either.

"God, that was intense," Noah stood up, walking over the bed.

"Yeah? Did you like that brief little porno?" Nick asked, observing the hungry, depraved look in Noah's eyes.

Y/N focused solely on Nick's shoulder, afraid to look anywhere else. Her nerves were on fire, stimulated by the overwhelming need to feel her orgasm that had been teetering on the edge the whole time. Noah could sense the tension. He could almost taste her arousal on his tongue, and never had wanted anything more in his life than to bring her over the edge of ecstasy.

"I never would've guessed that someone could piss me off and frustrate me so much yet make me want them the way you do," Noah admitted as he stood next to Nick, looking down at Y/N. Her chest rose and fell as her body shook.

"It was almost perfect, Nick."

Nick made a sound as if his laugh got stuck in the back of his throat.

"Almost?"

Noah laid his hand on the side of Y/N's face, caressing it gently.

"Yeah, almost."

"What would you have done differently?"

Nicholas wrapped his hands around Y/N's thighs as she stared up into Noah's face.

"I would have made her cum first then have her swallow my cum with the pretty smart mouth of hers as I held her down."

Y/N's world imploded inside her forcing her heart to pound like a hammer against her chest just as the sound of the door opening and closing was heard. Her eyes widened at the sight of Folio, Matt, and Jolly as they came walking into the room. Y/N looked from them to Nick, who shrugged, then up at Noah who had yet to take his eyes off of her.

"Mmm, it smells like sex in here," Matt chuckled.

Folio's eyes danced over Y/N and her naked body, giving her a soft yet aroused smile. The tip of his tongue darted out between his lips, just as Jolly laid his large warm hands on her back.

"Noah, what's going on? " she asked quietly.

Noah grinned, leaning down and kissing her and she surprised him by not pulling away.

"I'm going to make you cum, princess. That's what's going on. And so will the others if you want them to," Noah said darkly, removing his shirt.

Y/N looked down at Nick, who pulled her in for a deep kiss, and she knew right then that nothing between the six of them would ever be the same again.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

(I'm allegory anon) thank you for your response. I will say, I'm kinda confused by what the writers mean by the kwamis being "industrialized" because I'm not sure if that's the right word for it? Like Gabriel wasn't really trying to turn the kwamis into some manufactured product, right?

(Allegory post for the curious)

I'm assuming you're referring to this statement about the season five final:

In the next scene, we can see Marinette taking the miraculous that have been standardized and industrialized by Gabriel and putting them back in shape. The writers specify that this is a parable about craftsmanship vs industrial production. The miraculous will now be adapted to every person, but we can’t see what they look like just yet! In this new world, the powers are all shared, among people who they trust and know will work for the common good. They joke that the "Avengers" shot at the end with all the heroes is something they’d been dreaming of.

The general idea here is that they redesigned the miraculous for season six to better suit each character to show the difference between Marinette and Gabriel. Marinette personalizes things while Gabriel went for sterile mass production with the rings.

This is an incredibly surface level idea that doesn't really work the way they want it to because the shape a miraculous takes doesn't matter to the story. The truly unique thing about each miraculous is the power it gives and the Kwami you get to be friends with. Those things never changed and will never change no matter what form a miraculous takes. They could have all stayed rings and been fine which completely undermines the idea of this being a parable because parables are all about teaching simple moral lessons. It's hard to see how a magical accessory being a little more personalized is teaching some kind of lesson when it's just an ascetic thing.

This is extra true because, as far as I'm aware, the show hasn't made a big deal about the redesigns. From the few stills I've seen, it doesn't even sound like the designs were changed all that much from what they were pre-rings. Because of all these issues, this statement from the writers just comes across as pretentious. They're trying to claim depth for the narrative without actually putting that depth in the narrative.

For this idea to work, the Kwamis being rings would have needed to have some sort of negative repercussion. At the very least, they could have shown various akumas struggling to use the powers they'd been granted, implying that the powers had to be given to people who are uniquely suited to them. But we didn't get that. The powers feel incredibly generic and - outside of Adrien - no one has ever struggled to use the ability they've been given. We don't even see Marinette asking each member of the team what item they want which is not how personalization works.

I keep thinking of that My Little Pony episode where all the ponies cutie marks got messed up (that's the thing that tells a pony what their special talent is). The ponies had to fix their cutie marks by doing what they were actually good at to show how their talents were so integral to who they were, cutie mark or no. That's a similar concept to this and shows how this kind of thing is supposed to work. Correcting the marks was mainly done in a 3 minute long song, so here you go in case you're curious and haven't seen this before:

This is how you quickly show why each character is unique and why their seemingly surface level thing (cutie mark) matters on a deeper level. My Little Pony actually sets up and resolves this conflict in a single episode, playing off of themes established in the series, but keeping the specific conflict contained to 20 minutes. Gold star to those writers. It was very well done.

Of course, Miraculous could never do this level of depth because Marinette had to redesign sixteen miraculous which would eat up a lot of time, but they could have at least make a token effort to show her and Alya talking about it or something. Maybe the first episode of season six will do this and I'm being too harsh, but I really doubt it.

[celestialmatcha7]

broken promises pt. 2 | nam-gyu (player 124) [HOPEFUL VERSION]

pairing: baby daddy! nam-gyu x fem! reader

genre: angst and fluff

wc: 2k

summary: y/n reluctantly agrees to meet nam-gyu after he reaches out, hoping to make amends. as he works on rebuilding his life, she finds herself torn between skepticism and the possibility of change. (this is the version where the games doesn't exist)

author's note: part 2 was long overdue. so so so sorry for the long wait. i'm going to add more to the baby daddy! nam-gyu series, because writing this heals my soul. i hope you enjoy this! and also my requests are open. <3333333

The rain pours relentlessly against the city streets, mirroring the turmoil in your heart. You clutch the phone in your trembling hands, Nam-gyu’s name glowing on the screen. He had called you—again. But this time, you don't send it to voicemail.

With a deep breath, you press accept.

“Y/N.” His voice was rough, almost desperate. "Please… don’t hang up."

You hesitate. The weight of his broken promises still clung to you like an open wound, but something in his voice—something raw—made you stay.

"What do you want, Nam-gyu?" you ask, your voice steadier than you expected.

A sigh crackles through the receiver. "I know I messed up. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I just—I need to see you. Please, Y/N. Just one conversation. Face to face."

Your grip on the phone tightened. You told yourself you were done. That this was the last time he’d get to hurt you. But the way your heart aches at the sound of his voice told a different story.

"And if I say no?" you whisper.

Nam-gyu exhales sharply. "Then I'll respect that. But I need you to know... I never wanted to break you. I never wanted to hurt you. And if I could take it all back, I would."

Silence stretches between the two of you. Outside, the rain continues to fall, blurring the city lights through her window. You know better than to trust him again. And yet, the part of you that once loved him still wonders—could he really change?

"Tomorrow. 8 PM. The café on 5th Avenue," you said before you could stop yourself.

Nam-gyu’s breath hitches. "I’ll be there."

As you hang up, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes. Maybe this will finally bring you the closure you need—or maybe it will shatter what little strength you have left. Either way, you will find out tomorrow.

The next evening, you arrive at the café, your heart pounding in your chest. As you step inside, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation. Your eyes immediately land on Nam-gyu, sitting at a corner table. He looks different—less reckless, more composed—but the same pain lingers in his gaze when he sees you.

“Hey,” he says softly as you sit down across from him.

You fold your hands in your lap. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Nam-gyu swallows, his fingers tapping against the ceramic mug in front of him. “I know I hurt you, Y/N. And I know nothing I say can undo the past. But I’ve been going to rehab. I’m trying to change. I quit working at Club Pentagon. It was too toxic for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You study his face, searching for any sign of deception, but all you find is sincerity.

“I got a steady job now,” he continues. “An office job. My cousin pulled some strings and got me in. Nothing fancy, just paperwork and filing, but it’s honest work. I’m finally making an honest living.” He lets out a hollow laugh. “It’s exhausting, actually. Sitting in front of a desk all day, learning things I should’ve known a long time ago. But I need this, Y/N. I need to prove to myself—and to you—that I can do this.”

You don't respond right away, instead tracing the rim of your coffee cup with your fingertip. It was a strange feeling, seeing him like this. Sober. Determined. Regretful.

“I’ll pay off my debts one way or another,” Nam-gyu adds, his voice laced with conviction. “Even if it takes me years, I won’t let my past define me anymore.”

You exhale slowly, your heart weighing heavy in your chest. “Mei’s getting older. She's 5 years old now.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes darken with emotion. “I know.”

“She asks about you sometimes,” you murmur. “She doesn’t understand why you’re not around. And, honestly? I hate that she doesn’t get to see her father.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his fingers curling into a fist. “I hate it too.” His voice cracks slightly. “But I don’t want to be in her life until I can be the father she deserves. Until I can be someone she can be proud of.”

Your throat constricts. For so long, you convinced yourself that he didn’t care—that he had chosen his vices over you, over Mei. But now, hearing him say this, seeing the anguish in his eyes, makes you realize something else.

He does care. Maybe too much.

You take a shaky breath. “I want to believe you, Nam-gyu. I really do. But trust isn’t rebuilt overnight.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to tell you. To show you that I’m trying.”

You study him for a long moment, your heart warring with itself. Skepticism and hope clash within you, but for the first time in years, hope doesn't seem so far-fetched.

“Then keep trying,” you finally say. “For Mei. For yourself.”

Nam-gyu lets out a breath, one that seems to carry years of regret. “I will.”

And for the first time in a long time, you think that maybe—just maybe—he means it.

As your conversation with Nam-gyu shifts into a silence that feels surprisingly comfortable, your mind drifts back to Mei. She’s only five, but already, there’s so much of Nam-gyu in her. Her eyes, her smile, even the way she moves—it’s as if she’s his living reflection. You can’t help but marvel at how much she looks like him.

Nam-gyu notices the way your expression softens. “What is it?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “It’s just… Mei. She looks so much like you. Her eyes, her smile—everything. It’s like I’m looking at a younger version of you every time I see her.”

His smile deepens, a soft sense of pride flickering in his eyes. “She’s perfect. Just like you.”

For a brief moment, the world around you seems to disappear, and all that matters is this fragile, hopeful conversation. Mei has become a symbol of what you had—and what you might rebuild, piece by piece.

As the days pass, you watch Nam-gyu work hard to rebuild his life. You can see the change in him—he’s sober, committed, and trying to be a better man. But you know that asking him to immediately step into a fatherly role is too much too soon. Mei is still so young, and the wounds of the past are still healing. So, you decide to give him the time he needs, without rushing him.

One evening, after dinner, you and Mei sit on the couch together, her small fingers twisting the edges of your shirt. The TV flickers softly in the background, but neither of you are paying much attention.

“Mommy,” Mei says, her voice quiet but serious. “When will I see Daddy again?”

You look down at her, your heart fluttering slightly at the mention of Nam-gyu. She’s been asking about her father more frequently lately, the curiosity in her eyes too much to ignore. You smile softly, brushing her hair back from her face.

“We’ll see him soon, sweetheart. When he’s ready,” you say gently, your fingers absently tracing Mei’s hand. “It’s just… sometimes people need a little more time to be ready.”

Mei nods, though she doesn’t fully understand. “Okay.”

Later that night, as Mei drifts off to sleep, you sit by the window, the soft rain tapping against the glass. You take out your phone and stare at Nam-gyu’s name for a moment before texting him.

"Whenever you feel ready to see her, just let me know. I won’t pressure you, Nam-gyu. She misses you, but I want you to come when you’re truly ready to be the father she deserves."

You stare at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the send button. There’s so much more you want to say—so many feelings you have—yet this feels right. Simple. Genuine.

You hit send, set the phone down, and lean back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh.

The next morning, as you’re making breakfast, your phone buzzes. Your heart skips a beat when you see Nam-gyu’s name on the screen. You quickly wipe your hands on your apron and pick up.

“Y/N,” Nam-gyu’s voice is soft but steady, “I’m ready. I want to see Mei. I miss her. And I want to be the father she deserves.”

Your heart swells with relief. There’s a gentleness in his voice, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a warmth that hadn’t been there before. You smile, your voice soft. “Whenever you’re ready, Nam-gyu. We’ll be here.”

Later that day, as the sun hangs low in the sky, you and Mei make your way to the park, your footsteps light and full of anticipation. You keep your gaze on Mei as she chatters excitedly about the swings, but your heart races a little. Today feels like a turning point, one you didn’t know would come so soon.

Mei tugs at your sleeve. “Mommy, is Daddy coming soon?”

You smile down at her. “He’ll be here any minute, baby. Are you excited?”

Her face lights up as she nods vigorously. “Yes!”

As you reach the park’s entrance, you spot Nam-gyu sitting on one of the benches near the swings, looking a little out of place. His hands are shoved nervously into his pockets, his eyes scanning the area. He seems lost in thought, as if the weight of the moment has finally caught up with him.

When he finally notices you and Mei approaching, his face softens, and for a moment, he just stares at her. The sight of her—his daughter, the little girl he has missed so much—seems to hit him all at once. His eyes well with tears, and he quickly wipes them away, but it’s too late. The tears are already falling.

Mei skips ahead, oblivious to the emotional storm her father is fighting through, her excitement bubbling over. “Daddy!” she cries, running toward him with open arms.

Nam-gyu stands quickly and opens his arms wide, catching her as she barrels into him. He pulls her close, burying his face in her hair as he whispers, “I missed you so much, baby girl.”

You stand off to the side, watching the scene unfold before you. Your heart swells with a mixture of relief and joy, and you can’t help the tears that threaten to spill from your own eyes. Seeing the two of them together after all this time… it’s everything you had hoped for and more.

As Nam-gyu holds Mei, he notices something—how much she truly does look like him. He chuckles softly to himself, the sound of it breaking the tension in his chest. He pulls back slightly to look at her, his gaze soft and affectionate.

“Well, I guess your mom wasn’t lying,” he says with a small laugh. “You really do look like me.”

Mei blinks up at him, her innocent face full of curiosity. “You think so? Mommy says I look like you!”

Nam-gyu laughs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, you definitely got the face. That’s for sure.”

You can’t help but chuckle from a distance, wiping away the tears that have slipped down your cheeks. The moment is so pure, so real. It isn’t perfect—but it’s everything you need.

As Nam-gyu looks over at you, he gives you a small, grateful smile. His tears still glisten in his eyes, but now, there’s something else—hope. He stands up, still holding Mei in his arms, and steps toward you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to miss out on these years.”

You nod, your heart full. “You’re here now, Nam-gyu. That’s all that matters.”

Mei, still in her father’s arms, wriggles to get down and runs over to the swings. “Daddy, come push me!”

Nam-gyu nods, a wide grin spreading across his face as he follows her to the swings, his eyes never leaving her. As he pushes her gently, you stand back, watching the two of them.

You blink back the last of your tears, your heart light and filled with hope. There are still challenges ahead, but in this moment, with the sun setting behind you and Mei’s laughter filling the air, you know that this is the beginning of something beautiful.

Nam-gyu glances over at you, his eyes full of sincerity. “I’m never going to let go of you two again,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

You smile softly, nodding as you wipe your eyes one last time. “I know, Nam-gyu. I know.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

[aventurineswife]

Thought of a Zenless Zone Zero request. It’ll be with Nicole with a reader who was a childhood friend at orphanage. You know how Nicole came to love earning dennies? In the lore when trying to fundraise for dennies it’ll be changed to that you were with her throughout it all. The two of you would promise no matter what you two would always be with each other through thick and thin. Life had other ideas as Nicole was eventually adopted but left you with the first denny you two earned together. Timeskip to the current day and the reader became very successful but remembered their roots through that very same denny. The reader hires a team for some task in the hollows and it so happens to be the Cunning Hares. Of course you two recognize each other leading to a reconnection. You and Nicole would catch up and after many months of this you told her how you felt. You prove it by handing back the denny saying how you never forgot about her.

The Promise of a Denny

Summary: Years ago, you and Nicole made a promise—to stay together no matter what. But life had other plans, separating you when she was adopted, leaving you with the first denny you two ever earned. Now, as a successful individual, you unknowingly hire the Cunning Hares for a job, only to be reunited with Nicole. As old memories resurface and your bond rekindles, you finally confess your feelings, proving it by returning the denny that had kept your promise alive all these years.

Tags: Nicole x Reader, Reunion, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff & Feels, Second Chances, Promise Kept.

Warnings: Mild Angst (Separation and past hardships), Mentions of Orphanage Life, Brief Financial Struggles Mentioned, Emotional Reunion.

[Header credits]

The sound of laughter echoed through the dimly lit orphanage halls as two children huddled in a corner, a single gleaming coin sitting between them.

"We did it!" Nicole cheered, holding up the shiny denny like it was the most precious thing in the world. "Our first ever earnings!"

You grinned beside her, wiping the sweat from your brow. "Took a lot of convincing to get the old man to pay us for cleaning up his shop. But we pulled it off."

Nicole beamed, gripping your hands. "Promise me something, [Name]. No matter what, we'll stick together through thick and thin. We'll make something of ourselves."

"I promise," you swore, sealing the vow with a shake.

But fate had different plans. Not long after, Nicole was adopted by a wealthy family, leaving you behind. The last thing she gave you was that very same denny—the first of many you had planned to earn together.

Years passed. Life carried you forward, success followed, but no matter how much you gained, you never let go of that small, worn-out denny. It was a reminder of where you started, and of the girl who had once been your closest friend.

When the time came to hire a team for a high-risk Hollow commission in New Eridu, you left the details to your assistants. The last thing you expected was to come face to face with the past.

"Cunning Hares, reporting for duty!" A familiar, confident voice rang out, and there she was—Nicole Demara, standing at the forefront of her ragtag team, still as bold and mischievous as you remembered.

Your breath caught. "Nicole?"

Her eyes widened in recognition before a smirk curled on her lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't [Name]. Fancy seeing you in a place like this."

The reunion was a blur. You hired her team for the job, but every moment spent together felt like slipping back into old times. Jokes exchanged, memories resurfaced, and soon, what started as mere business turned into something more.

Weeks passed. Then months. And as the days bled into one another, one truth became undeniable—you never forgot Nicole. And more than that, you never stopped caring.

One evening, under the neon glow of New Eridu’s skyline, you found yourself standing before her once more, heart pounding.

"I need to show you something," you said, pulling a small, timeworn coin from your pocket. The same denny she had left with you all those years ago. "I never forgot our promise. And I never forgot you."

Nicole's playful bravado faltered as she stared at the coin in your palm, realization dawning in her eyes. Slowly, she reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against yours.

"You kept it… all this time?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

You took a step closer, swallowing your nerves. "Because I meant what I said back then. I still do. No matter what, I want to be with you, Nicole. Through thick and thin."

For the first time in a long while, Nicole was speechless. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, [Name]." A slow, genuine smile spread across her lips. "I spent my whole life chasing wealth, but somehow, you’re the one thing money could never buy back."

She flipped the coin between her fingers before pressing it back into your palm.

"Let's start fresh," she said, her eyes glinting with something deeper than mischief. "Together this time. No debts, no deals. Just us."

And with that, the promise made in childhood was rekindled—not as a distant memory, but as the beginning of something real.

[masoncantthinkofaname]

Hello, hope you're well. I wanted to ask how you taught your husband and kids how to shift? And how you group shift together.

Thanks in advance🤎🤎🤎!

So this is a more complicated question to answer, and not everyone will probably like what I have to say.

When it comes to shifting, you live in your 3d, I live in mine. We can be in the same reality, but you're still in your 3d, and I am in mine. Mine is constantly changing with everything I do, and so is yours.

When it comes to shifting, it's impossible to shift to the exact same reality with someone, as your assumptions or expectations will always be slightly different, and the constant shifting would make it likely for you to end up in different timelines eventually anyway.

But this is not as depressing as it sounds. You will never notice any of this. If you shift with someone, they will be the exact soul, the exact person that you remember, with all the same memories, and everything else that's important about them.

Just like with anyone else in your life.

My husband and I have both always been aware of this. He sought me out in this reality (in a non physical form), and we have been shifting together for a long time now. We talk about where we want to go, we share all our drs, all our experiences, but we don't worry too much any of the finer details. Our intention is to always stick with the version of each other that we know, and even if we end up in slightly different places, we will never know whether we did or not. And it simply does not matter, it's how existence works, it's best to not worry about it.

It's also why it has been this easy to teach our children to shift. When they were merely babies, we would still shift at times, simply just intending for the version of them that we know to be there as well. They have quite literally grown up with shifting, having experiences dating back to when they were newborns, and we have always explained and encouraged their experiences regarding it as they grew up.

Of course, once old enough, we explained the process more clearly, let them choose places to shift to, etc.

Our family exists out of multiverse travellers. And although we might not actually end up in the same reality in all cases, our intention to stick together is all that we need to still always stay with each other. It's a very natural way of shifting, and the closest that's possible to group shifting. but I fear that, for some of you here, it might be a bit hard to comprehend, which I understand.

To put it down slightly more clearly; there is no difference between you being in this reality, in the kitchen with your mom, and she decides to take a bite out of an apple, thus already shifting a ton of times in the process of grabbing it, washing it, maybe asking you if you want one too. The version of her that you were in the kitchen with a minute ago is not in your exact reality anymore. But you won't ever notice that. Your mom is still your mom, with all the memories, experiences, and everything that makes her your mother. Or group shifting with someone, and intending the version of them that you know to be there, essentially doing the exact same thing. It's them in every possible way, it's not scary at all💚