#sorry i don't think in words i think in feelings

[sooniebby]

Hey Danny!

A lot of people are asking for another Ito Yuki fic, and you mentioned you don't have any ideas. This isn't really a request, rather a suggestion...

Is Ito Yuki the jealous type? If he is...

So male reader is known as a player, right?. And basically, the idea is that his past conquests confront him, "why do I still see you with Ito Yuki when it's been more than a week?" And all that was happening. People also happen to continually confess to reader... This kinda builds up and leads to jealous sex, I guess? Oh, and you mentioned Ito Yuki also getting confessions, so maybe reader gets jealous, or Ito Yuki is trying to get reader jealous...

Idk, all this revolves around jealousy lol

It's all up to you-

Sorry if this isn't appealing in any way to you, just ignore me!

-♠️

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

w.c › 9.1k

warning › This is an OC. His first post. Reader last name is Yoshida. Slut shamming. Homophobia. Decided to make jealousy more angsty/sad

plot › It’s been a month since you’ve been dating Ito Yuki, it’s great but you soon find out everyone in school isn’t exactly happy about that.

kinks › praise, manhandling, semi-public sex, marking, creampie

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮

𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙡𝙚

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You’re joking. No way in hell you’re no longer single!”

You smiled smugly, puffing out your chest.

That’s right, you, resident playboy, was officially taken. Your friends, Sana and Ryun stared at you for a moment before they began to laugh. You frowned as they continued laughing, obviously not believing you.

“It’s true!” You whined, pouting your lips. “It—Yuki even said he’s been into me since our freshman year!”

“Why would he be into you?” Ryun asked, wiping at a stray tear from his face. It couldn’t be that funny!

Sana sighed, rubbing at her chest. “Yeah, no offense, Yoshida-Kun, but you aren’t exactly relationship material!”

“I can be relationship material.” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Usually you never felt attacked by Ryun and Sana’s words but this time you couldn’t help feeling oddly offended.

Were you really not relationship material?

A knock on the door caused you to turn your attention to the front of the classroom. Everyone in the classroom got ready to sit as the teacher began to start the lesson.

But you couldn’t pay attention. Well it’s not like you ever do.

All you could think about was Sana and Ryun’s words.

When it was finally lunch, you shot up from your desk, startling Ryun and Sana. You grabbed your bento box and sent them a playful wink.

“I got a date! Enjoy lunch without me, losers!” You teased, rushing out of the classroom. Your feet pattered against the ground as you practically dodged every student who got in your way.

A wide grin spread on your lips when you came face to face with your date: Ito Yuki. He was standing by the stairs, looking down at his phone when he heard your loud footsteps.

He glanced up to see you sprinting to him with the widest smile ever. Your cheeks hurt as you waved excitedly. Yuki only lifted his hand slightly to wave before you skid to a stop right in front of him. Well, tried to. It was hard to stop on recently mopped floors.

“Watch out!” You cried out, anyone in your path quickly moving to the side.

Just as you were ready to tumble down the stairs, Yuki easily caught you by the collar of your sweater. You let out a sigh of relief as he tugged you back up. Yuki raised an eyebrow as you gave him a thankful grin.

“Aw~ You saved me!” You giggled, teasingly poking his cheek. To anyone else, Yuki must’ve looked annoyed but for the whole month you two have been dating, you could see the slight smile on his lips.

“You can’t run in the halls,” he said, spoken like a true student council president. You only gave him an apologetic smile. You’d run in the halls again.

“Rooftop?”

“Mhm.”

You grabbed Yuki’s wrist and began tugging him up the stairs to the rooftop. He followed right behind you, occasionally telling you to slow down or you’d trip. The rooftop wasn’t empty with a few other students eating there but you didn’t care.

As you glanced around, trying to decide a perfect spot, Yuki subtly grasped your hand. You looked over as he guided you to a more secluded area. It was on the side of the entrance. Everyone else sat more to the middle of the rooftop.

You plopped down onto the ground as Yuki knelt down beside you. The two of you didn’t say anything for the first few minutes as you ate in silence.

With anyone else, you would’ve felt odd.

But with Yuki, sitting in silence was calming.

“Ah.” You hummed, swallowing a big bite you took of your onigiri. “What do you want to do when we reach our six month anniversary?”

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” Yuki said, reaching over to wipe something off your cheek. “You eat like a child. How did you get some people to sleep with you.”

You grinned, using your free hand to tug down your sweater to show off your collarbone. “With my sexy looks~”

“Cover up or I’ll fuck you right here.”

“Yuki!” You blushed. It was hard getting used to the fact Yuki was more perverted than he let on. You’d think being a playboy would meant you’d have a higher sex drive but it honestly felt like Yuki was insatiable.

“The school festival is in four days. What is your class doing?” Yuki asked, changing the subject. You fixed your sweater before stealing an egg roll from Yuki’s bento box. He only smacked your hand away when you tried to reach for another one.

“We’re doing a monster themed cafe! I’m going to be a werewolf barista.” You said, grinning.

“Will you wear a maid outfit?”

“Pervert… No. I’m a barista! I’ll be in pants.”

Yuki looked disappointed. You only shook your head. The two of you continued eating lunch talking about random things before the warning bell rang. You mentioned skipping to Yuki and he practically stared at you as if you said you wanted to kill his mother.

When you two walked downstairs, you were about to walk away to your classroom when Yuki gripped your arm. You hummed, looking back to ask what was wrong when lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widen as you stared at him, unable to kiss back. He pulled away and his usual slight smile pulled on his lips.

“Wait for me by the school gate after classes. I’ll walk you home.” He said.

“Don’t you…”

“I’ll skip.”

You watched as he walked away, entering his classroom. You would’ve stayed standing there until the bell rang again. That was your cue to quickly get to class.

Though you only thought about Yuki the entire time. You two weren’t exactly hiding your relationship but Yuki was heavily against public affection and you weren’t going to push it. The most he did was hold your hand.

That was the first time he ever kissed you in public, even if the hallway was empty when he did. The fact he did made you giddy.

To think you were missing out on the little things by only being with people for just a week.

You had previously feared you’d get tired of Yuki but you didn’t want to leave him at all.

Ito Yuki had your heart at this point.

You absentmindedly doodled little hearts on your workbook, not noticing sharp eyes watching you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Hey, ready to walk home?” Ryun asked.

You shook your head, a giddy smile on your face as you clutched your school bag close to your chest. “No can do! I’m going home with Yuki. See ya!” You didn’t wait for him or Sana to answer, rushing out of the classroom.

There was a pep in your step as you changed your school shoes to your sneakers, humming to yourself. You closed the shoe locker shut, turning around only to gasp to see someone behind you.

“Holy!!! Katori..?” You whispered, staring at the boy in shock. A nervous smile pulled on your lips as you bowed your head in a polite greeting.

Katori was one of your former dates. It lasted the usual week back in your second year. Though it had gotten a bit awkward when he ended up being in your class this year. Always so awkward when that unfortunately happened.

He was handsome, that’s why you had sought him out. Tanned skin from playing baseball. An average height of 175 cm (nothing compared to Yuki’s 183 cm). Spiky black hair and sharp eyes.

You and Katori haven’t exactly talked. Well you usually never talked to any of your past dates. Too awkward. Katori’s face looked slightly angry? His eyebrows were furrowed while his jaw was clenched.

“Are you okay…?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I saw you with Ito Yuki.” Was all he said, his gaze narrowed in on you.

“Really?” You muttered, confusion written on your face. “What—?”

“—He kissed you. It’s been over a month since you asked him out.”

“You saw that?”

“It was out in the open.” Katori looked at you as if you were an idiot. “Besides that, why are you and Ito still together? Didn’t you tell me you don’t date?”

You frowned. “What? Why does that matter now? I told you that last year. I can change.”

The sound of banging caused your body to freeze up as Katori slammed his fist against the shoe lockers behind you. You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling the remaining students look at the outburst in shock.

“Someone like you changing? Listen here, I don’t know if you know this, but Ito is a friend of mine. I don’t want you leading him on when all you’ve ever been was the school’s resident slut, got it?”

A friend? Yuki was friends with Katori? You never noticed. You were a bit self-centered at times but Yuki never really mentioned his friends to you. Ryun and Sana had other friends that you don’t remember the faces of.

“Resident slut..?” You whispered. You knew your reputation wasn’t exactly the best but was that what everyone thought of you? The fact no one was even helping, just staring at you was telling enough.

Did even Sana and Ryun feel that way about you?

“Katori.” A voice called out, catching everyone’s attention. Everyone looked over to see Yuki walking over. You could see Sana and Ryun right behind him, a shocked look on their faces.

You almost felt embarrassed.

Katori pulled away from you. “Ito—”

“—Just because schools over doesn’t mean you can’t get in trouble for fighting.” Yuki said, moving to stand in front of you. A thankful sigh left you as you felt safe with Yuki acting like a barrier.

“Seriously?” Katori rolled his eyes. “Are you dating him, Ito?”

“Yes.” Gasps rung through the students. You couldn’t help but grin. Yuki didn’t even hesitate.

“I never thought you’d fall for his nonsense. Sleeping around with everyone in the school, he probably has diseases by now.” Katori shook his head. A few snickers were heard. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stared down at your sneakers.

“Yet you slept with him during your second year, having known his reputation. I’m not childish enough to care.”

Katori looked up at Yuki in shock. “Are you—? Are you seriously defending him?”

“He’s my boyfriend. You were my friend.” Yuki reached behind himself and grabbed your hand, tugging you forward. He reached down and kissed your forehead. “Mind your own business next time, Katori-San.”

With that, Yuki opened his shoe locker and changed into his outdoor shoes. He didn’t even spare anyone else a glance as he dragged you out the school’s front door. It took a moment before you began to keep up with his brisk pace.

The walk home was silent but somehow still comfortable.

It wasn’t until you were only a minute away from your home that Yuki finally said something.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry he embarrassed you.”

You hummed. “It’s okay… I’m guessing he saw you kiss me in the hallway. I hope I don’t bring down your reputation.”

“I don’t care about my reputation if it comes with the cost of hurting you.”

Your eyes widen as you glanced up at Yuki, your cheeks feeling warm. Yuki was staring straight ahead, his hand tightening its’ grip on yours.

The rest of the walk home was quiet—you couldn’t say anything. You reached your house just a second later. Just before you walked inside, you leaned on your toes to press a kiss on Yuki’s lips before rushing inside.

It felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest after kissing him. You felt happy.

But despite his reassurance, you couldn’t help but think about what happened earlier.

Did.. everyone really view you with such disgust..?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

The school festival was in two days. Your class was excitedly getting ready for the monster themed cafe. You were helping a classmate pick out what sweets he should get to sell when Sana tapped you on the shoulder.

You excused yourself, following her out of the classroom. Ryun was standing there as well, a frown on his face. This couldn’t be good.

You three haven’t exactly been on talking terms.

It was childish to not talk it out with them but you weren’t exactly in the mood. Or at the very least you wanted some time to gather your thoughts before bringing it up to them.

Looks like you’d get your chance.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Sana said bluntly, crossing her arms across her chest. “What gives?”

“Yeah, are you embarrassed about what happened on Monday with Katori? It’s nothing new.” Ryun sighed. Sana quickly glared at him as you tilted your head.

“Nothing new..? What do you mean?”

Sana shook her head. “People have been talking behind your back since second year.” She admitted. “No one has ever said it out loud to your face before though.”

“You guys knew and didn’t tell me?”

Ryun shrugged. “It wasn’t like it was rumors. It was only things that were true. Besides, Sana and I always tease you about being a slut anyway.”

Your jaw clenched as you glared at them. “You two are my friends! They are strangers! You were really allowing them to say those things without defending me?”

“What would we say, Yoshida?” Sana asked. “You were sleeping around and everyone was curious to how you somehow hadn’t had any STDs.”

“I practice safe sex!” You whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract a crowd. “Did you not think that it would hurt my feelings to learn that almost everyone in this school had a problem with me?”

“Well what did you expect?!” Ryun suddenly cut in. “You’re a playboy, how is everyone supposed to think about you? Sleeping with a new person each week since first year is insane, Yoshida!”

“Is that really the only reason you haven’t been talking to us?” Sana asked. “Because Katori hurt your feelings?”

“Hurt—? I’d like you to be able to be called a slut in front of everyone else and just bounce back with ease!” You didn’t notice a few of your classmates beginning to pay attention to the little spat in the hallway. “You’re my friends, I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!”

“Are we really your friends? Because you won’t even allow us to call you by your first name. But Ito Yuki can after only talking to you for a month. What’s with that, huh?” Ryun spat out, inching close to you.

You frowned. “I told you before! Hearing my first name is weird! Not even my parents call me by my first name. I only recently started getting used to hearing it because of Yuki.”

“It’s like you’re ditching us for your new plaything.” Sana sighed, shaking her head. “What? Is he that good in bed? We’ve always been there for you, what happened, huh? Did sleeping around cause your brain to turn into jelly?”

“I doubt your relationship with him will last long,” Ryun cut in. “You’ll get bored soon and find a new shiny tool. You told us before, sticking with the same person gets boring. A slut like you needs new engagement all the time.

“Will you really cling so hardly on Ito when even he can drop you at any time? He has girls always chasing after him. Who’s to say he won’t get uncomfortable about how everyone talks about you?”

Sana nodded. “It was getting hard being your friend. The rumors were beginning to spread onto us. Sluts hang out together, that’s what they were saying. Ito Yuki is too good for you, do you really want to drag him down with you like you dragged us down?”

You stared at Sana and Ryun in shock, their words beginning to tune out. It felt like a tsunami had passed through you. Was this how they fault all this time? When they were joking around with you—was it how they truly felt this entire time?

It was too much. Your eyes flickered over to your classroom door to see your classmates staring at you. Katori there as well, staring at you with a wide smirk. You looked down at your shoes, your breathing getting heavy.

“Oi!” A voice suddenly yelled, catching everyone’s attention. The classmate you were speaking to earlier about what sweets to buy was suddenly standing in front of you.

He glared at Sana and Ryun before turning his attention over to your nosy classmates. “Mind your own business!! You guys haven’t finished decorating!” He yelled. The students quickly rushed back into the classroom.

Sana blinked. “Suzuki-San?”

Suzuki looked back over at you three. “If you wanted to have a private conversation with Yoshida, you shouldn’t have done it in the fucking hallway! Scram, I gotta talk to Yoshida about actual important stuff, like our school festival that is on Friday!” He glared at them before they reluctantly walked back into the classroom.

You kept your gaze down as Suzuki patted you on the back.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

“It was nothing. Living in a small town makes them hungry for any sort of drama,” Suzuki laughed. “You’re the only interesting person in this whole school.”

Your gaze flicked up to Suzuki as you stared at his face. “Have I…?”

“No, no! I’m straight.”

“Oh. Why did you defend me?”

“What you do in the bedroom is none of my business. Besides, you wouldn’t be a playboy if no one took you up on your offers.” Suzuki gave you a smile. “Everyone who got with you knew who you were. I’ve seen people that slept with you even call you a slut. I think they’re just jealous you never wanted to date them.”

“Jealous?”

“Mhm. At first it was only a few people who constantly talked behind your back but ever since you and Ito-San started dating it’s gotten worse. A few of your exes are jealous they didn’t get to ‘tame’ you.”

“Tame?!” You gasped, the stray tears in your eyes being blinked away.

“Yeah.” Suzuki hummed. “Some people that slept with you had the goal of becoming your partner. I always wanted to tell you but I had no proof, only word of mouth. Add in with that it’s Ito Yuki, student council president who had a recent ‘glow-up’ in the eyes of the girls, everyone has a reason to be mad.”

You were shocked for the most part. People wanted to tame you? Gross. You shook your head at the thought. But your worst fear was true. Yuki’s reputation was being dragged down because of you.

“Have they been talking bad about Yuki?”

“Mhm. Especially Katori after Ito’s fight with him. Mainly people waiting until you give him a STD or you cheat on him. A few girls are upset that he’s gay, saying that you turned him… Whatever that means.”

Great. Absolutely great. You had knew that Yuki still got confessed to before he made it public that you were dating. Those girls never gave up even when Yuki turned them without a second thought. It wasn’t like you thought he’d cheat on you.

It was more so that maybe of those girls would be better for him.

“Thanks, Suzuki.” You whispered, wanting to just lay down.

“It’s nothing. I couldn’t be a bystander anymore.” Suzuki admitted. “You should get some water, I’ll tell the teacher when she comes back.”

You hummed and walked away, ready to chug some water from the water fountain. As you walked past some classrooms, you skid to stop in front of Yuki’s classroom.

You were curious to what they were doing for the school fair when you noticed some giggling. Your eyes landed in on a girl walking up to Yuki with a shy smile on her face. She was clutching a note to her chest as her friends practically pushed her to Yuki.

The girl would’ve fell had Yuki not caught her. He helped her to her feet and was about to turn his attention back to the board when she tugged on his sleeves. You could only watch as the other students began to coo and giggle, watching the girl get ready to confess.

You wanted to stop it but your feet felt glued to the ground. The girls friends began chanting “confess” over and over again before the girl finally blurted out her confession.

She was cute, typical girl next door. The boys beside Yuki began to cheer Yuki on, patting him on the back. Did.. Did they not know you were his fucking boyfriend? That Ito Yuki had a boyfriend?

Someone said something that you couldn’t hear properly. A few whispers ensue. You strained to hear them properly.

“Well, it’s not like Yoshida is known for staying with his partners for long.”

“Yeah, he’s probably just using Ito-Kun anyway.”

“Yoshida is so disgusting,” one of her friends laughed. “Why wouldn’t someone want Kaede-Chan! She isn’t infested with 1,000 STDs! Right, Ito-San?”

“Uhm, Ito-Kun… Are you really in love with Yoshida..?” Kaede whispered, her doe eyes staring up at Yuki. “I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

You couldn’t hear anymore. You sprinted away.

Tears were streaming down your face as you ran up the stairs to the rooftop. You just wanted this cruel day to end. To think all these three years your school has viewed you as parasite the entire time. Your own friends was getting tired being your friend.

And you might lose your boyfriend to a girl that was better for him in the eye of the school hierarchy.

You bursted through the rooftop door and crashed into the walled fence. Your fingers gripped at it as you rest your forehead against the cool metal. Heavy hiccups left you as you tried to calm down.

Maybe if you had been normal.

If only you weren’t a playboy.

No matter, you’d set Ito Yuki free.

Even if you didn’t want to.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You clutched your school bag to your chest as you stood by the school gate. It had been two hours after school, you were waiting for Yuki to finish with his council president duties. He had texted you to go home but you hadn’t responded.

This needed to end.

“(Name)-Chan?”

Your heart fluttered as you looked back to see Yuki. He had his usual slight grin as he walked over to you. But it quickly dropped when he took in your puffy red eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, his hand reaching out to touch you but you quickly stepped away. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. “Are you okay?”

You only nodded. “Yeah, I just. Uhm. We should break up.”

It was silent before Yuki let out a laugh. “Funny. What really happened?”

“No. We should break up.” You said louder, standing up straight.

Yuki’s fox like eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “What the hell are talking about? You want to break up?”

“Yea, we aren’t compatible. We don’t even really know each other.”

“We were getting to know each other. Don’t give me bullshit reasons.”

“We just shouldn’t be together!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m the school’s resident slut and you deserve someone like Kaede!” You yelled, feeling your eyes water as you quickly looked away. “Besides I’m… I’m bored. I’m used to having a new partner each week! I can’t.. I can’t stay with one guy.”

“Kaede—? Did you see the confession? I rejected her.”

“I knew you would…”

“Then what? You think that I really believe you can’t stay faithful? Who’s been feeding this bullshit to you?”

“It’s true! I’ve practically fucked everyone in this damn school, you were just another week. I.. I even talked about how virgins are the best partners!”

You looked back at Yuki, wanting to get this over with. But to your shock, Yuki almost looked hurt at your words. Fuck, you couldn’t just break things off easily, could you? You mentally cursed yourself for telling that when a grin pulled on Yuki’s lips.

It wasn’t a grin that reached his eyes.

“You act like I don’t know what type of person you were before I said yes. I even knew your fucking catchphrase! You think I didn’t know what you usually liked in a partner? Yoshida (Name), I’ve liked you since our first year, I only ever wanted you. I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “We wouldn’t last anyway! I’m not the type of partner you would want to bring to your parents! I’m known as a slut by every student in this school, who’s to say no one else knows?! We’re not that big of a town!”

“(Name)…”

“Just let me break up with you before I drag you down with me.”

“You’re so childish.”

You bristled, biting your lip. “Whatever. We’re over.” You quickly walked away, not looking back even as Yuki called your name.

This was for the best, even if you didn’t want it to be.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

You glanced up from your pillow to see your mother staring at you with a bowl of noodles. She gently placed them on your desk and sat down on the chair, turning it to face you.

“What happened, Plum? You look miserable.”

You only whimpered, shaking your head. “I found out… that I’m the school’s resident slut..”

A slight laugh left your mother. “So? So was I.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Mhm. I slept with almost every boy in my grade level. They were pretty bad for the most part. I didn’t stop until I met your dad in college.” Your mom said, sighing at the mention of your father. “A hunk. Great in bed—ah well you don’t need to know that.

“Wait, have they been bullying you? Do I need to visit the school?!” She asked, a frown on her face.

“No. That would be even more embarrassing.”

She sighed. “If you say so. But that can’t be the only reason.”

“I found out Sana and Ryun were spreading the rumors behind my back.”

“Excuse me?” A look of anger spread on her face as her upper lip turned up into a snarl. “I need to get their keys back. How dare they hurt my baby behind his back! Did anything else happen?!”

“I broke up with my boyfriend to protect his reputation.”

“Well that’s a bit dumb.”

You frowned, looking over at her. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. That’s dumb. Who cares about high school reputation? Was your boyfriend bothered by you being called the school’s slut?”

“No…”

“Then what makes you the one who gets to decide that the relationship ends?”

“I…”

Your mother gave you a smile. “You tried to do the right thing even if it was a bit silly. If your boyfriend wasn’t bothered by it, you can’t just decide he was. What it really was is that you were probably jealous or even scared that he would think he could do better than you. So you wanted to end it before he could hurt you.”

Why did your mother have to be so smart?

She got up and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Try to make up with him, if he was really upset about the breakup, he’d want you back quickly.” With that, she left the room, letting you wallow in your thoughts.

Maybe you really did screw up.

Shit, would Yuki even forgive you if you came crawling back?

You groaned. You just wanted to sleep.

If only you just talked it out with him.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Sorry, this is all we have. Someone forgot to buy fake hair.”

Suzuki helped you tied the fluffy tail to your waist. You slipped on the headband with furry ears as you glanced at the mirror. It was the school festival. You were dressed as the werewolf barista though you looked more like a dog. You wore a white button up with black slacks.

You glanced over at Suzuki to see him dressed as a vampire. He was dressed similar to you but with fake fangs and a bit of blood on his face.

“It’s so hard to talk with these fangs.” Suzuki groaned, slipping them back on. You only grinned as you placed the food on the table. Your eyes glanced around the classroom that was turned into a spooky cafe. Everyone was dressed up as some sort of monster.

You didn’t pay any mind to Sana and Ryun, not wanting to talk to them. They also made no effort to speak to you. Your mom really did get the spare keys she gave them back, basically banning them from your house.

It still hurt, realizing you lost two childhood friends.

Though you technically gained Suzuki. He was cool and didn’t talk badly about you behind your back.

Small victories.

The festival finally began at 5:00 pm. Everyone in town was welcomed. At first your class’s cafe wasn’t gaining much attention. Suzuki looked a bit worried so you tried to come up with an idea.

You walked out of the classroom, looking at the groups of people attending the other classes. As someone passed by you grabbed their arm. The person was a girl, one of your past dates, Kazuha.

Kazuha flinched, probably shocked before she saw it was just you who grabbed her. She grinned. “Yoshida-Kun! Ah you look so cute! Lemme take a picture.” She pulled out her camera and quickly snapped a couple of pictures before you could even attempt to pose.

You forgot she was apart of the photography club.

“Anyway, what’s up?” She asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Ah, my classes cafe isn’t gaining enough of attention… Could you help us gain some traction? I don’t know what to do.”

Kazuha hummed, nodding her head. “Lucky for you, I still find you cute.” She teased. “Leave it to me, Yoshi!” With that, she sprinted off before you could even ask what her plan was.

She was only gone for a few minutes before coming back with a pep in her step. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’ll be kissing whoever spends over five dollars at the cafe! Just a kiss on the cheek, don’t worry.” She said, a smug smile on her face.

You almost complained that you were taken before remembering that no, you weren’t. “I doubt anyone would be that interested in kissing me.” You said, frowning.

Turns out you were wrong.

It didn’t take long before a group of students came over, looked to be the volleyball team. They practically bought everything. Suzuki had to tell a classmate to bring out the extra food they had stored.

“Can we also take a picture?” One of the boys said, a shy smile on his face. You only mutely nodded, taking a few selfies with them. There wasn’t anyone on the volleyball team you had dated, they were mostly filled with first years.

You gave each boy a quick peck on the cheeks, every single one practically giggling excitedly when you pulled away. After they left, a group of girls came in. They quickly bought some food before rushing over to you.

“You’re so cute! Can I take a picture instead of the kiss??”

“You should be an idol! So cute.”

“Ah, thanks.” You blushed, taking a quick selfie with each girl. “Are you…?”

“We’re first years!” One girl answered. “I heard so many weird rumors about you but you’re so shy in person!” She said, giggling.

“I’ve only heard third years talk bad about you.”

“Ah, right! So homophobic too,” the one with bangs rolled her eyes. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re just jealous you’re cute. Are you supposed to be a dog?”

“A werewolf.”

“Well it’s a good attempt!”

“Ahah, thanks. Please recommends us to any friends!”

It seemed like first years either didn’t care or possibly didn’t know about your reputation. It made sense, you didn’t attempt to sleep with any first years. You mainly stuck to people in your year, only a few second years ever got the chance with you.

Well that was good, only third years hate you.

A few more people came in after. Again, mostly first and second years. The food was almost out before it even reached 7 pm.

“Everyone’s going to be kissing your feet after this,” Suzuki grinned. “We would’ve been screwed without you.”

Kazuha hummed, “and without me! I was the one who came up with the plan.”

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have your own class to bother?” Suzuki rolled his eyes while Kazuha just sent a smug grin.

“I’m mainly surprised people really wanted a kiss from me.”

“Well you are attractive.” Suzuki said bluntly. “In my personal opinion, you’re the school’s heartthrob, not Ito Yuki.”

Kazuha nodded in agreement. “I mean, it wasn’t like you ever ran out of people to date.”

“Mhm.” You glanced around the makeshift cafe, everyone beginning to wine down. A few students even taking off their costumes now. You fixed your tail, popping open two buttons of your shirt to get cool. “Looks like we might have to close up early, there’s only two sweets left.”

“Oh! Let me have them for free!” Kazuha grinned.

“No way! Pay like everyone else!” Suzuki glared at her. He took out his fake fangs and sighed in relief, tossing them in the trash. “I’m never wearing that thing again. I think it scraped my gums.”

“Really? Let me check.” You leaned in, motioning for Suzuki to open his mouth. He complied and leaned down so you could get a clear view. There did look to be a small little wound on the right side of his gum. “Ah, it looks like it irritated the right side. Nothing cut open though.”

“Oh that’s good.” Suzuki hummed. “Anything else?” You leaned in even closer, reaching up to gently grasp Suzuki’s jaw so you could tilt his head down.

“Uh… Yoshi… Suzuki. We have a customer.” Kazuha whispered, her voice weirdly quiet. You glanced over at her, confused on why she was sounding like that. Plus it wasn’t like your other classmates couldn’t handle the customer.

Suzuki pulled away from you, no longer blocking your view of the front door of the classroom.

Your breathing hitched at who was at the door.

Ito Yuki.

And he didn’t look happy at all. His hair was slicked back with gel, a singular strand pulled over his face. Dressed in a suit and tie, you couldn’t help but be memorize at how handsome he looked.

He walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. He practically ignored Suzuki’s greeting and grabbed the last two sweets left on the main table.

“Are these two together over five dollars?” He asked, his gaze only on you.

“Yeah.” Suzuki answered before you could. “Are you going to take up our offer—”

Suzuki didn’t get to finish when Yuki tossed the sweets back on the table and stepped right up to you. His hands gripped your waist, one sliding up to cup your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your eyes widen as you could only grip at his shirt in shock. His eyes narrowed in on yours as he pressed your body against his. A strangled moan left you as he bit your bottom lip, easily turning the peck into a hungry kiss. His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth as you felt your legs turn into jelly.

It almost felt hard to breathe as he kissed you breathlessly. He chased your mouth when you attempted to pull away for some air. His tongue was exploring your mouth as if he was hungry and he wouldn’t survive without the taste of you.

The fact your classmates were still in the classroom wasn’t lost on you. Sure, you weren’t particularly shy about asking out people in public or shamelessly flirting with PDA, this was brand new. Especially when Yuki wasn’t into public affection.

Your moans were hardly muffled by Yuki’s mouth, though it seemed to spur him on. His grip on your waist slipped down before grabbing a handful of your ass. A shameful squeak left your lips when he finally decided to pull away.

The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. Yuki only stared down at you before moving to grab your hand instead of your ass.

Kazuha and Suzuki looked shocked to say the least. Though Kazuha gave you a thumb ups with a smile, nodding her head. Suzuki looked mostly traumatized at the sudden make out sesh. A few of your classmates were whispering but you couldn’t hear them properly. You could feel Sana and Ryun staring at you.

Katori looked pissed but that only made you happy.

“You can clean up without him,” Yuki simply said, looking at Suzuki.

Suzuki only let out a soft ‘huh’ as Kazuha quickly nodded, a grin on her lips. “Of course, of course!! Go have fun you too! Be safe!”

Yuki hummed and began dragging you out of the classroom, not waiting for you to even attempt to refuse. As they walked out, Suzuki glanced back at the two sweets left on the table.

“He didn’t pay…”

You had to pick up the pace to keep with Yuki’s long strides. Though finally out of your classroom, you got to see what the other classes did for the festival. When you passed Yuki’s classroom, it looked like their theme was mad scientist cake decorating.

You wondered where his lab coat was but didn’t think he’d be in the mood to answer such a question right now. He finally came to stop when he reached the student council’s room and pulled you inside. The door closed with a slam as he turned the lock.

Now that you two were alone, it suddenly dawned on you that you were broken up for only two days. When it almost felt weeks. Wow, you were a simp for him at this point.

“What was that?” He asked, his jaw tense.

“What was what?”

“Seriously? You break up with me two days ago and suddenly allowing everyone to kiss you for a school festival?”

“I didn’t come up with it… Kazuha thought it would be good to help us with sales. I didn’t even think people would be interested in kissing me.”

“You have such low self esteem for being a playboy,” Yuki said, letting out a joyless laugh. “You think people slept with you so easily for only week without being physically attracted to you?”

“I…” You shook your head. “Anyway what was that?! You just kissed me in front of everyone! You told me you don’t like public affection.”

“I had to make sure no one got the idea that you were suddenly single.” Yuki easily confessed. “Your class seems to be the one spreading most of the rumors around school, they’ll let everyone know that you’re mine.”

“But… I’m not yours. I ended the relationship.”

“Yeah, without my feelings being taken into consideration. I thought about it, we’re not breaking up. You can’t just end things.”

“Yuki, I’m not good for you. I don’t want to bring you down.”

“(Name), it’s fucking high school. Who gives a shit what they think? Do I have to fuck you brainless to make you understand that I want you no matter what they think?”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

Yuki let out a laugh. “That’s all you need.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you close, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “I’ll fuck you until you understand you’re never leaving me. I’ve waited so long for you—I’m not letting other people’s jealousy take you away from me.”

His hands grabbed your button up and easily tore it open, buttons popping loose. You gasped as you tried to salvage the shirt but he easily pulled it off. The room’s cool air brushed against your skin.

You looked up at Yuki, eyes wide. “In here?!” You whispered, remembering the third floor wasn’t exactly empty.

“Mhm.” Yuki took off his glasses, placing them on your face. Your vision was blurred from the prescription. When you attempted to take them off he gripped your wrist. “Keep them on. I’m still angry at you.”

A gulp left your throat as you watched a blurry image of Yuki. You could still make out what he was doing but could no longer see his face clearly. Cold hands pressed against your stomach, causing you to tense up. He slowly pushed you back until you laid down on the table.

“Do you know why I like you?” He suddenly asked. You only let out a confused hum. “When I moved to this town, I was pissed. From Tokyo to something so minuscule. Besides, I was a new kid coming to a high school where the kids knew each other since elementary.”

Wet lips pressed against your stomach. You gasped, looking down to see but Yuki reached up and gripped your face. He pushed your head back to rest on the table before pulling away.

“I didn’t think anything of you until I saw you in that maid outfit. Then I noticed how you portrayed this persona of yourself: the smooth talking playboy but deep down you were cute when you thought no one was looking.”

You clamped your hands against your mouth to muffle the surprised moan that left your throat. Yuki’s teeth sunk into your stomach as he bit hard on your soft flesh. He left two more marks, each harder than the first.

“You were more sensitive than you let on. I noticed whenever your dates didn’t go through the full week with you that you would get sad. Pouty and moping around the halls until you find a new person.”

His hands grasped your waist. His thumbs gently digging into your skin. Soft kisses pressed against your stomach, his tongue teasing your belly button. He unbuckled your tail, letting it lay dejected on the floor. But then his teeth bit into your skin, earning a loud squeak from you.

“Anyone who even looked at you wrong made you upset. I only watched you from afar, you never made an attempt to ask me out. But I always watched you ask out other people. That stupid catchphrase of yours got on my nerves.”

The sound of fabric tearing caused your hips to flinch as cool air conditioner teased your now bare thighs. His mouth immediately bit at your inner thigh. His hands held your hips down to stop you from bucking away from his touch.

“I wondered all the time if you would just stay that way. Asking out people and leaving them after the week. How could that be satisfying to you? But during our summer break after our first year, I came across you at the park. I saw you crying your eyes out.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the mention of that incident. His glasses slid down your nose from your constant movement. Yuki moved to your left thigh, biting hard on the skin. You whimpered, one hand reaching down to grip his hair.

“I wanted to talk you but your friends ended up coming over. All I could think was that I never wanted to see you cry like that again. The thought of you frowning made me angry. Those feelings towards you might’ve just been infatuation but I knew I wanted you in my arms.”

“Yuki…” You moved to sit up when his hand immediately pushed you back into the table. You grunted in surprise, his glasses falling off your face from the force. It toppled to the ground, one of the lenses cracking from the force.

You looked back up to quickly apologize for not protecting his glasses when you finally got a good look at Yuki. His eyes were red. He was.. crying?

“I didn’t say you could speak.” He said, his voice harsh. If you hadn’t seen his face—you wouldn’t have thought he was crying. “I was ready back then to just watch you from afar. You didn’t seem to want a permanent relationship and I wasn’t going to force myself on you. But then you asked me out…”

He looked down at your thighs, his hands moving to your hips as his fingers teased your boxers.

“At that moment, I knew I couldn’t admire you from afar anymore. You were within my grasps and I needed to make you mine. Make you obsessed so you won’t want anyone else.” He let out a joyless laugh. “I knew exactly what you were saying when you mentioned the week being over. But I wasn’t going to allow you to leave me.”

His hand grasped your boxers as he glanced up at your face. He didn’t say anything as he slowly began to tear the fabric open. You blushed, your body suddenly feeling hot at the sight.

“You know, Yoshida (Name).” He whispered, a grin on his face. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met. And I’m so fucking angry that you decided to end our relationship without thinking about me. But it’s okay, you just don’t see yourself the way I see you.

“Hit me three times if you need to stop.” Was all he said. He grabbed the torn fabric of your shirt and used it to blindfold you. You whimpered, gripping at his arm just to make sure he didn’t disappear. “You can’t be loud, the festival is still going on. Though I don’t mind if everyone learns how good I fuck you.”

You bit your lip as his hand grasped your cock. His thumb rubbed against your slit, teasing it slowly as you withered beneath him. Now having your sight gone made the feeling more intense for some reason. You wouldn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his touch.

His hand released your cock, letting it plop against your stomach. Your body twitched as you waited for him to touch you again. When you didn’t feel anything you began to whine.

Your hips twitched when something wet teased your hole. “W..What was that?!”

“Shh, it’s lube.”

“You carried lube to school?!” Two fingers rubbed against your hole, spreading the cool lube. A gasp left your throat when Yuki slowly pushed in two fingers at once. The burn was strong as your back arched against the table.

“I didn’t. A friend gave it to me.”

“You..You’re friends—ngh… friends with someone who brings lube to school?!”

“Mhm. It’s good to have friends with different interests.”

“Different interests… ah!”

The squelching of the lube filled the room as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your whimpers. You could hear people walking past the room. It should’ve made you anxious but honestly you felt so horny.

Yuki curled his fingers, rubbing right against your prostate. A wet cry left your lips. Your hands digging into the table for some form of purchase.

Before you could reach your high, his fingers pulled out. It was silent for a moment—only the sounds of people walking past. You briefly wondered if he left when something pressed against your ass.

His hands gripped your waist, keeping you still as he slowly thrusted into your hole. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan from the stretch.

“I wanted to mess with you more but we can’t stay in here for too long.”

Your vision blurred—the soft blues of the moonlight stabilizing your sight. Yuki tossed your makeshift blindfold onto the pile of torn clothes. You gazed up at him, finally able to properly take him in once more.

His hair was messy. The sleekness gone. Bangs threatening to fall over his face as he ran his hand through his strands. His eyes were still puffy and red.

“Yuki… I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Yuki’s eyes widen, just a bit as he stared down at you. It was still hard to really tell what he was feeling through expression alone. You wanted him to say something, to say if he forgave you or not.

“You’re still not off the hook.” He finally said, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll punish you properly another time. For now, I’ll show you just how much I love you.” His hands reached up and grasped your waist, pulling you to the end of the table.

A shuddered gasp left your lips as he slowly thrusted in deeper. Your hands gripped at his bicep, body gently moving at his rhythmic thrusts.

Yuki leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck. His mouth kissed down to your collarbone as he bit at your skin. You whimpered—his hips picking up in pace.

The sound of skin slapping bled into the room with your raising pitch in moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in even closer.

“I like you.” Yuki suddenly whispered, lips pressed against the underneath of your chin. He slammed his hips against your ass, earning a loud cry from you. You quickly bit your lip to try and muffle yourself as he kept a faster pace.

“I like your smile.” His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips. “I like your laugh. I like your eyes.” Hips slammed into you, holding its position as his cock grazed your prostate. “That smile you have whenever you’re going to be a menace.”

Your nails dug into his back as small gasps left you. His cock was now repeatedly rubbing against your prostate. Your toes curling from the pleasure as you had to fight everything fiber of your being to not scream out.

“(Name)-Chan.” Yuki whispered, grunting when you involuntarily tightened around his cock. He let out a chuckle. “(Name)-Chan, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a stark contrast to his harsh thrusts.

You were going to say something but Yuki didn’t allow you. He kissed you, pressing his body against yours as he was unforgiving in his pace. His hips slammed into your ass as the sound is skin slapping filled the room.

You didn’t even attempt to muffle your moans. Your prostate constantly rubbed and pressed against with his animalistic thrusting. Yuki greedily swallowed your moans as you pulled him closer.

It didn’t take long before you reached your high, your back arching as you came. Yuki didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm. Your hands trailed up to tangle in his hair as you felt his cock begin to twitch.

Yuki pulled away from the kiss, your mouths barely touching as you took deep breaths. His hips stuttered as he let out a low groan, gripping your hips as he slammed deep inside. Something warm coated your walls as you let out a whimper.

You couldn’t be mad about him not using a condom. At least not right now. You quickly kissed him again. It was a slow kiss, the previous hunger finally satiated.

“I… I love you too.” You whispered, pulling away from the kiss to look him in the eye. “What… should we do for our sixth month anniversary?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow as he let out a laugh. “So suddenly?” He leaned in, his nose rubbing against yours. “It’s actually our first day together as a couple, since we just got back together.”

“Really?” You asked. “But you didn’t ask me out yet.”

Yuki pulled away as he stared down at you. He reached down and gently cradled your face, his thumb rubbing against your lips.

“Hey, do you wanna make out?”

It took a moment before it fully registered. Your lips quivered as you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Shit… It sounds so stupid when you say it back.” You sighed, a bit embarrassed that the sentence was your catch phrase for so long.

“Do you?” Yuki simply asked.

You looked up at him and grinned. Your eyes felt teary as you whispered,“Mhm. Let’s make out.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

“—Are you guys done?” Yuki cut her off, brushing off a hand that touched his shoulder. He glanced around the room before sighing. “1,000 STDs? Are you all five? Yoshida (Name) is my boyfriend.”

Kaede stared up at Yuki in shock. “But—”

“—But nothing. This class is supposedly filled with students who test the best, so I assumed you wouldn’t be so childish. Speaking such nasty language about my boyfriend in front of me is insane. Get it through your head, I’m dating Yoshida (Name), and I won’t ever date someone like you, Kaede. Now everyone get back to planning.”

The room was silent as Yuki’s classmates slowly began to get back to their assigned tasks. Yuki paid Kaede and her friends no mind as they consoled the girl. A snicker left the girl beside Yuki.

“Shit, Yuki! That was crueler than normal. I thought you were going to punch someone!” Maki laughed, “You’re really serious about Yoshida-San, huh?”

Yuki glanced over at Maki. “Course I am. He’s my first and only boyfriend.”

“Only..? Like you won’t.. date men after Yoshida-San?”

“No. (Name) is the only person I’ll date ever. We’re never breaking up.”

Maki only laughed before awkwardly stopping when she noticed Yuki’s serious face. “You’re weird sometimes, Yuki.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re… cute.. as a maid…”

Yuki felt as if he was going to pass out. You stood in front of him, dressed as a maid for the first year’s class festival. He was shorter back then, thick square glasses that did nothing for his looks. You didn’t have to look up at him like you do now.

You tilted your head at him, the long hair of your wig moving in tandem. A slight grin pulled on your lips as you gripped the edge of your dress, teasingly pulling it up to show a sliver of skin not covered by your stockings.

“I know~ But I can be sexy too.” You dropped your dress, giggling as if you didn’t just sexually tease Yuki. “Thanks, Ito~” You skipped away to your friends, your skirt swishing with your movement.

Yuki learned three things that day.

He has a thing for cute things

You looked good in feminine outfits

He reacts like a Victorian man at the sliver of skin

As well as another thing, staying as your admirer was proving harder each day.

He just didn’t know how lucky he would get in his third year.

Had to put in some last minute feminization because that’s literally Yuki’s whole kink. Just didn’t fit into this chapter well. Anyway, love exploring angst and fluff! Excited to write chapter 3 cuz it’ll be graduation time!!

Tag list: @omgplsletmeread @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @euthymiko @love-kha1 @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @remdayz @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @ofclyde @kiiyoooo @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience

[drunkinyourbenz]

YOU DON'T REALLY NEED A BREAK

☆ SYNOPSIS: in which billie is stressed, so naturally she needs you more than ever. unbenkownst to her, she takes it too far. ☆ PART ONE ☆ RELATIONSHIP: dom!billie eilish x fem!reader ☆ WARNINGS: SMUT, use of safe word, angst, fluff, comfort, mean billie, reader is a little bratty, situationship/fwb, angry sex, crying, strap-on, edging, degradation, petnames, name calling (slut, whore, brat, etc.), choking, hair pulling, humiliation, dumbification, toxic dynamic (except less so because billie's realising things hehe), unedited. ☆ REQUESTED: yes, by a bunch of anons ☆ NOTE: y'all read my mind with these reqeusts i was already thinking of writing a part two abt exactly this and you all had the same idea!! sorry this took so long lmao exams are kicking my ass :/ this is very unedited sorry for any mistakes i read it through once and then posted it lmao read part one first for it to make more sense ☆ WORD COUNT: 3.5k words

billie hadn’t texted you in a little over a week, and you almost thought that she wasn’t ever going to again. the last time you’d seen her had ended like all of the other nights, she’d cleaned you up and then left you alone in the silent hotel room. usually, she’d text afterwards, just to make sure you were feeling okay, but there was nothing. the last text between the two of you was when you’d asked where she was when she was late that night. 

the two of you normally hooked up at least a few times a week, and you’d never actually gone a week without her since you started this four months ago.

you thought the worst: someone else had replaced you as her favourite. you’d always thought it would happen, but you thought you might have a few more times before it was over. but from the looks of it, you weren’t ever going to see her again. 

which was fine, obviously. you didn’t care—or that’s what you kept telling yourself. you had agreed to a no-commitment thing when you two started whatever this was, and she could do whatever she wanted. it stung a little bit that she wasn’t doing you, but ultimately, there was nothing you could do about it. 

so when you got home from a long day, thoroughly exhausted, your plan for the night was to hide in your bed and watch 2000s tv shows until you passed out. you showered, taking your time to wash your hair and feeling your tense and tired muscles relax under the hot stream of water. once out of the shower, you changed into some comfortable clothes, flopping down on your bed in relief. you were ready to finally just cuddle up under the blankets like you’d been wishing you could do all day.

about eleven minutes into the gilmore girls episode you were up to—rewatching for the hundredth time—your phone pinged, and you almost just ignored it, but you picked it up with a groan. 

your eyes widened when you saw it was from billie, the last number you expected to text. your heart almost skipped a beat.

billie: come over?

you paused for a moment, conflicted. you truly were exhausted, and it had been such a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep, you honestly weren’t in the mood for what you knew billie would want. but… it was billie. 

so, inevitably, you ended up at her door. you were still in the clothes you’d changed into the moment you got home, just some comfortable sweatpants and a top—billie wouldn’t care about what you wore, she wanted you to be comfortable. plus, you knew full well that you wouldn’t be wearing them for long. 

you knocked on the door, and it opened within mere seconds, almost as if billie had been waiting by the door for you to show up. from the look on her face, you wouldn’t be surprised. she looked stressed, angry, and desperate. you looked her up and down, your eyes settling on her face. she was wearing a pretty similar outfit to you, sweatpants that hung low on her hips, the “HIT ME HARD AND SOFT” waistband of her boxers peeking out, and a white tank top that you could see the slight hint of her nipples peeking through. her arms were bare and your eyes seemed to gravitate towards the toned muscles there, which never failed to make your brain short circuit. paired with the noticeable outline of her strap in her pants, it was almost too much for you to take. 

you noticed the way her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and her eyes were narrowed in a firm gaze, the frustration was clear on her face. “rough day?” 

she groaned, and when she spoke, her voice had a slight rasp to it, “you have no idea.” 

the two of you fell into silence, just staring at each other for a few long moments. it wasn’t a comfortable silence, it was one that hung in the air around you, a claustrophobic silence. there were words left unspoken between the two of you that poked their heads around the corner but never truly revealed itself, it left you wondering when it would snap, but it never did. the two of you stared at each other for what felt like lifetimes, you waiting for billie to do something, and billie simply savouring the feeling of having you in front of her again. 

finally, she spoke, her voice still holding that same raspiness—which alone could get you on your knees for her. “it’s pathetic that you’re here so fast, considering i ghosted you for a week. you’re just a desperate slut for me, aren’t you? not that you’d be good for anything else.”

the bluntness of her words sent a chill down your spine, this was exactly what you’d expected. why else would billie text you after a week of not talking, if not to use her favourite girl? 

billie continued talking before you could even get a word in, it was like she’d read your thoughts. she leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke, “you know i could just call over any of my girls and they’d be here in a heartbeat, and they’d be exactly the same. pathetic, desperate, and begging.”

you raised an eyebrow at her words. you knew what she was doing, trying to wind you up, get you to act out. you had honestly intended to just be her good girl tonight because you were so tired, but you knew she adored it when you acted up. so you spoke with the bratty tone you knew she loved.

“sure you could. but none of them are here now, are they? you called me.” 

the brattiness, especially when she was in a mood like this, made her eyes light up. your brattiness was her favourite thing, she loved it when you gave her an excuse to be harsher and meaner than she was on a normal day. so, when you talked back to her, she lets out a dark laugh. “don’t fuckin’ test me, mama.” 

you let a soft scoff fall past your lips, “or what?” 

“you know i’ll put you in your place, i’ve done it before.” and then you realised, this was what set you apart. this was why you were her favourite. you weren’t afraid to act up, so she didn’t have to be afraid of taking it too far. she could push you, because you pushed her. “maybe you should. you want to blow off steam, don’t you?”

at your words, her lips twitched upwards into a slight, barely noticeable smirk. you knew she would be taking them as a challenge, “you’re gonna have to drop the bratty attitude eventually, mamas.”

“maybe you should make me.”

that was exactly what she wanted—she wanted you to keep going, keep winding her up. she wanted you to give her a reason to pin you down and tear you apart; and you gave her that reason with that simple suggestion.

she took your wrist in her hand, her grip almost painful as she tugged you behind her to her bedroom. the air felt different than it normally did when you were here, everything felt so tense. her entire body language screamed irritated, dominant. but it wasn’t the normal kind of dominance she normally exuded. billie always had this kind of casual dominance that just hung around her, her presence was just effortlessly assertive. this is different, she had a look in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—she was always mean, but this was her normal level of mean times ten. 

she was clearly in a whole new headspace, not one you were familiar with. this wasn’t just dominant, wasn’t just mean, no, it was something else. she wasn’t just a little stressed, she didn’t just have a little bit of frustration she needed to take out on you, this was worse. it was an almost animalistic kind of energy, one that’s so raw, so intense, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk by the time she was finished with you.

she took one of the belts from her merch from her dresser, shoving you backwards onto the bed and tying your hands to the headboard. she tugged it slightly, making sure it was firm but not too tight. it sent a rush of excitement through you, and you knew she felt the same. 

“gonna use you, mamas,” you knew from those words that she was going to absolutely ruin you, and you could tell by the look in her eyes.

sure enough, no more than five minutes later, she had her strap deep inside of you and was pounding into you at a bruising pace. the strap was bigger than the one she usually used, and it made you ache with a constant stinging pain. she hadn’t given you any time to adjust, and had started as she meant to go on. you were naked and on her bed, with her on top of you, fucking into you at a brutal pace. your hands were still tied up with her belt and the ache it brought only amplified the pleasure. one of her hands had your hair in a firm grasp, solely to make you feel the sting of pain it brought. she wanted to bring you to tears. her other hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it before letting her hand fall down on your ass in a harsh slap. 

the intense pleasure of her cock inside you and her finger circling your clit was a perfect contrast to the pain her hands brought you, and a trail of moans fell from your lips. “b-billie-” 

a mean, almost cruel laugh left her lips, “god, you’re such a slut.” another slap landed on your ass, “it’s pathetic, really. i mean, i can ghost you for as long as i want,” another slap. “and you’re still at my door in five minutes as soon as i ask.” slap, “pathetic fuckin’ whore.” 

you whined, which simply made her laugh. in her own sadistic way, she was enjoying this. 

this continued for what felt like hours—maybe it was, you had no idea. every time you got slightly close to your orgasm, she’d pull out, tugging you away from the edge. by now, you had tears rolling down your cheeks, and the fine line between pleasure and pain was slowly but surely being crossed. 

“fuckin’ take it,” she breathed. “god, you look so dumb around my cock. all you’re good for, hm? spreading your legs and taking it like the slut you are?”

you whimpered, and she simply slapped your ass again. 

this continued for much longer, and she wasn’t even mad at you for being bratty, not in the slightest. she just needed an outlet for her bad mood, and that was what you were. merely a way for her to release her frustrations. 

you let out a choked sob, your body trembling, “billie, please, i can’t—” 

you knew she wasn’t doing this because she had anything against you, there had been something deeply wrong with her day. she had never been this downright cruel before, and you knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t act like this without reason. but it was too much, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. she hadn’t asked for your colour even once tonight, and that thought alone was putting you on edge. sure, her being rough turned you on, but right now it was scaring you just as much. this was darker than you’d experienced in all four months of your friends with benefits situation with her, and you weren’t sure if you liked it. 

you felt the strap hit your most sensitive spot, and you let out a sound that was a mix of a moan and a sob. “billie–” 

“like being used by me, yeah? taking everything i give you like a slut?”

you weren’t sure when you realised that you actually weren’t enjoying it anymore, but it was obvious all of a sudden. it hurt, and not in a good way. you were exhausted from both your day and the sheer amount of time she’d been edging you for. the way your arms had been tied to the bed for so long was making them ache painfully, and at some point down the line, your tears of pleasure had turned into tears of pain. 

you normally had the safety net of knowing that she was paying attention to your signals, knowing that she didn’t want to hurt you. but it didn’t even feel like she was aware of what she was doing, she was so caught up in herself and drowning out her own frustrations. you hated that lack of awareness, it was like she wouldn’t even notice if she actually hurt you. 

she looked like she was about to speak again, so before she could get out another degrading comment, you gasped out, “red, billie–”

whatever half formed sentence billie had been about to say died on her tongue, your gasped words making her freeze inside of you. her mind suddenly went silent, her frustrated thoughts about her day coming to a halt as she looked down at you with wide, almost scared eyes. you’d never actually used your safeword—obviously it was something that the two of you had communicated, but billie had never expected to actually go too far, to push you to that. she was meant to check in on your colours, and she felt an intense pang of guilt when she realised that she hadn’t done that. 

as she looked at you, noticing the tears and the exhausted expression, as well as the way your wrists were visibly sore from being tied for so long, she felt a sense of dread. she was overcome with shame and she didn’t know what to do about it. her breath caught in her throat as she processed what was going on.

“shit, i’m so sorry.” after a moment, she shook herself out of her paralysed shock, she would’ve pulled out immediately, but she was aware that that would just hurt you even more. so she leaned over, quickly untying the belt around your wrists and letting it fall to the ground beside the bed. she massaged your wrists gently for a moment, trying to soothe you. 

her hands moved over your tense muscles, trying to ease some of the soreness. she brushed some of your hair out of your eyes, her touch soft and cautious. “i-i’m so sorry, baby. i never wanted to push you that far.”

you knew that. you knew that she would never actually intend to hurt you, you knew that she wasn’t herself. you didn’t need her to over explain herself, you just needed her to hold you. the hand that had been pushing your hair out of your eyes moved to stroke your cheek, and you could see the intense guilt in her eyes. 

“i’m gonna pull out now, okay?” her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, eyes fixed on your face. 

you simply nodded, hissing slightly in pain as she gently pulled the strap out of you. billie felt her stomach twist at your obvious pain, knowing that she had done that. “i know, i’m so sorry.”

once she was out of you, she climbed off you and gently shifted you so you were sitting further up the bed, propped up on the pillows slightly. her mind was clearly racing with what she could do to help, “do you need anything? water, food, whatever?”

you shook your head softly. if your brain hadn’t been so exhausted, you probably would have thought more rationally about this. but you didn’t, and you didn’t once consider the limited affection in your dynamic. “can you just hold me?” 

billie didn’t hesitate, she just nodded instantly. “yeah, of course i can.” she joined you further up the bed, pulling you into her arms. she held you against her chest gently, her fingers soothingly running through your hair while her hand rubbed your back softly. 

you could hear her heartbeat, it was fast and a clear reminder of how stressed she was. you spoke softly, “it’s okay, seriously.”

but it wasn’t okay, not to billie. she had hurt you, she had pushed you too far, even when you were already clearly tired. she should’ve known better, and the guilt was weighing down from her and eating her up from the inside. not to mention she was terrified that this might be your last straw, that you might never want to see her again, that she might have broken your trust. wondering why she cared so much about her casual fling’s feelings was something that would have left her perplexed on any other day, but it was not currently at the forefront of her mind. “but–”

“it’s okay.” you said firmly, “i wouldn’t be asking you to hold me if i was uncomfortable around you.” 

those words seemed to ease billie’s nerves slightly, and she tightened her arms around you, holding you close. after a few minutes of this, she gently pulled you to sit in your lap, and you shifted so that your head was buried in the crook of her neck. you could feel her breathing on your skin, and you could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. it was incredibly grounding, the feeling of just being close to her. ever so slowly, you felt your breathing calm and your heart rate slow down. 

at least an hour passed as you were just laying there in her arms, your breathing syncing with hers as her fingers ran through your hair. it was a foreign thing, for the two of you to be this close without sex, but it felt so right. it was like you were made to be in her arms, despite the situation that had brought you here. you could sense her guilt, and if you’d been a bit more aware of what was going on, you probably would’ve realised that there was something more behind that guilt—something deeper than just feeling bad for pushing you. but you were unaware, it wasn’t really what took place at the front of your mind. 

the room was filled with only the sound of both of you breathing, and your mind was taken over by the calming feeling of her playing with your hair. after a while, she broke the silence. “d’you wanna borrow something to wear?” 

you couldn’t deny that you liked the feeling of this skin to skin contact, but you also knew that it was a good idea. so you nodded quietly, and she delicately lifted you off her lap and set you down on the bed. she walked over and grabbed you an oversized t-shirt to wear, and she walked into the ensuite to grab a damp cloth. she came back over and gently wiped your thighs with the cloth, at this point you didn’t flinch too much because it had been so long. she held out the t-shirt, which you recognised as one she had worn at some point.

“arms up, darling.” that was a new pet name, but you didn’t comment. instead, you just lifted your arms and allowed her to slip the top over your head. it smelt like her, which somehow just added to the comfort. 

soon enough, she was back on the bed and you were back in her arms. she was laying down and you were laying with her, partly on top of her and partly just cuddled up to her side. this hadn’t happened before between the two of you, but you certainly weren’t complaining. her bed was comfortable, and her arms around you felt like a cocoon you never wanted to grow out of. 

gradually, your breathing started to slow as the exhaustion caught up on you, both from the recent events and your already tiring day. your head slumped onto her shoulder as a yawn fell from your lips, to which billie smiled softly. 

“do you want to stay the night?” 

that was not something you’d ever expected billie to say, but you hummed softly against her shoulder. “if that’s okay, yeah.”

you could’ve sworn you heard a sigh of relief from billie, “of course it’s okay, please stay. i want you to stay.” 

and so you did. you stayed that night, wrapped up in billie’s arms. it was so new, but it felt so right. that night had been an irreversible shift in your relationship, for both obvious reasons and more hidden ones. you knew that the two of you would have to talk about some stuff in the morning, and you knew you’d have to set some more boundaries. but you also felt closer to her than you ever had, somehow. 

little did you know, that night was just as  meaningful for billie as it was for you. she had had a revelation, one that she would likely keep to herself for a while, although there was no doubt you would find out eventually. 

but there was no doubt that billie wanted you to stay, longer than she’d ever thought.

[xreader-writing]

Someone better | LN4 and FC43

Prologue

Sumarry: Lando is treating his girl badly, but thank God one Argentine is more than happy to do everything he doesn't do.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto X Driver!Reader | Lando Norris X Driver!Reader

WC:1.265

(WARNINGS:) Abusive relationship, manipulation, machismo, sexism, Lando is a complete idiot here, sorry! 😔

A/N: Since Y/n is Brazilian (And in Brazil we speak Portuguese and not Spanish) Franco and she will speak English to each other most of the time, okay?

How do you realize you're in an abusive relationship? When do you realize? Do you... Do you realize it?

Is it when it gets more violent? Or is it already extreme?

Lando isn't violent, but he is aggressive, that always confuses Y/n.

She's only 21, for God's sake, she got her place in F1 this year when she was called up to replace Checo for the entire 2024 season, yes, she signed with Redbull and is now partnered with Max Verstappen

When she started her relationship with Lando, it was very different, well, I think that's the problem with an abusive relationship, you only realize it when it's too late, and sometimes, unfortunately, you don't even realize it.

Lando was handsome, sweet, affectionate and fun, it was impossible not to fall in love with him, but...

Y/n thinks she can remember the first time he acted strangely.

It was when she was in P1 for the first time, Max was in P2 and Charles got P3, she remembers trying to greet Lando, but he walked right past her, making her feel completely embarrassed with so many cameras filming the event.

"He's just frustrated and tired." That's what she thought.

To make matters worse, Lando didn't go to celebrate with her, only God knows where that boy got himself into that night, but she doesn't want to think about it too much.

That was supposed to be her moment, but he managed to ruin everything.

"Enjoy your night, you deserve it so much." She remembers Chales saying that with his hand on her shoulder and a comforting smile.

After a few days he simply went back to normal without saying a single word about it, as if he hadn't broken her heart into little pieces.

The second time it was actually Max who noticed it, well, he adopted Y/n as his little sister, and he really loved her as if she were.

He was in the paddock when he arrived at the Redbull carriage and came face to face with Lando and Y/n in a distant corner.

It wasn't uncommon to see them in each other's garages, but Max frowned when he saw Y/n half-curdling while Lando spoke non-stop in an aggressive and low tone, only for her to hear.

Max got even more irritated when he saw Lando's expression change when he saw the cameras approaching.

He needed to have a little talk with Y/n.

Later that day, Max managed to catch Y/n alone and he couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Hey." He approaches smiling and she forces a smile.

"Hi Max."

"I wanted to ask you something, I don't want to be nosy or anything, but is everything okay?" Max notices that Y/n's hands are shaking so much that she can't open her can.

"It's okay, I just...fucking can." Max smiles weakly, takes the can from her hand and opens it in a second.

"You know he can't treat you like that, right?" Max says, giving the can back to her, who lowers her head a little uncomfortably.

"He's just kind of nervous and frustrated too."

Max laughs in disbelief upon hearing this.

"What kind of shitty excuse is that? He might have the worst day of his life, but he has to respect you." Y/n doesn't know what to do upon hearing Max say this.

"It's okay, Max, I...I like him." Max sighs and puts her hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"You'll always have me, okay? Even if you go to another team, whichever team you go to, you'll still have me, I promise." Those few words made Y/n's day 100% better.

The third time was a little more problematic, Y/n wasn't having a good day, and to make matters worse, the reporters seemed to sexualize her in every question, damn it.

"Why are you so glum?" Lando says, approaching her and taking her hand.

"I just don't understand why they have to sexualize me in every possible question." She says quietly and Lando scoffs.

"You're a woman and you're Latina, what do you expect them to do?" Y/n looks at her boyfriend confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/n, are you going to say you don't like this kind of attention? All this attention they give you?"

"You think I like being harassed? What's your problem?" Y/n lets go of his hand, and he's quick to pull her hand back, squeezing it a little tighter this time.

"Are you trying to put on a show for others now?" He says quietly, looking into Y/n's eyes, and she just wants to scream and run away.

But there are already too many lies and distorted stories about her out there, so she just turns her face away so she doesn't have to look at him, and forces a smile when Oscar and Charles approach to talk to them.

After that, Y/n thinks her mental health is hanging by a thread, the reporters make her seem like a gold digger, that she's only there to sleep with all the drivers, her boyfriend makes her feel ungrateful and crazy, and the haters won't stop trying to kill her once and for all.

But...

In the middle of all this, someone showed up...

Franco Colapinto

Franco and Y/n had known each other since the F2 days, they always laughed a lot and joked together, when Y/n went to F1, Franco cried with emotion with her.

But he knew how much she would be missed.

But now he's at Williams replacing Logan.

When he arrived at F1, he was all joy, Franco got to talk to his favorite drivers, and that was a dream come true, but when he turned around and saw Y/n drinking water and with a completely worried expression, he felt his legs a little wobbly.

"Holy shit, she's still beautiful."

Ele sempre a seguia na~~s redes sociais, mas vê-la tão de perto...

As if she could feel someone looking at her, Y/n turned and met Franco's eyes.

He smiled and waved and she waved back smiling with her mouth closed.

But he needed more, so unable to contain himself, he excused himself to the people around him and practically ran to Y/n.

"hola mi hermosa." Franco pulled her into a hug that she happily returned.

"I missed you so much." Y/n says and Franco smiles more.

When they let go of each other, Franco notices the dark circles under her eyes, and her smile that seems a little forced.

"Congratulations on your pole, it was more than deserved."

"Oh Franco, It's been months."

"Uau? Você me deixou ~~tão orgulhosa e feliz." S/n sorri e balança a cabeça.

"Thank you, it was a dream come true for sure, and I know I'll see you up there soon too." She smiles and Franco's heart races even faster, he had completely forgotten the power she had over him.

"Fuck, I forgot about that." Franco thinks.

Before Franco could say anything, Lando appears looking for Y/n.

"Come on Y/n, let's go have lunch." He takes Y/n's hand and looks Franco up and down.

"Hey, man." Lando lets go of Y/n's hand and offers it to Franco, who smiles as he shakes Lando's hand.

"See you around Franco." Y/n says smiling softly and Lando takes her hand pulling her with him.

Franco's smile fades as they walk away and he sighs self-consciously.

"Fuck, I forgot about that too!"

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[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[runninriot]

Lovelorn

written for @steddiemicrofic

november prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | tags: confessions, misunderstandings, not really unrequited love, implied friends to lovers

"I'm sorry, Steve."

The words hit him like a slap, a harsh contrast to the soft touch of Eddie's lips he can still feel on his own, lingering there, an echo of the kiss they shared just seconds ago.

Steve knows that tone, knows that look, knows what they both mean - this is what he gets for letting his guard down. For ignoring his mind's warnings and following his heart's demands. Foolishly reading something into signs that were none.

Interpreting dimpled smiles and batted lashes as more than what they truly are. Thinking the way Eddie touches him, circles around him, always in his orbit, always so close, means that he, too, feels this gravitational pull. This need for closeness, unable to stay away because apart from each other, they're only half of who they are, who they could be.

But no. It's a one-sided feeling; Steve knows that now. Can read it in eyes that are full of regret and pity, knows Eddie means what he says, that he is sorry, but that doesn't make it better, doesn't help soothe the sting of rejection.

It hurts, fucking rips him apart on in the inside - that's what he gets for carrying his heart on his tongue and shoving it down Eddie's throat without asking for permission first, blinded by the illusion that Eddie would gladly take what Steve offers and give something of his own in return.

"I can't be what you want me to be."

Eddie's eyes fill with tears and there's something utterly wrong about it - why is he the one crying when it's Steve's heart that's breaking?

He takes Steve's hands and it's unfair how nice that feels, how soft and warm they are. How perfect the shape of their fingers melt together when they entwine, sliding into the gaps like they're made to fit.

It's not right to cling to it, to find comfort in the way their palms press together, to let hope bloom in his chest when there is no hope for a happy ending.

"I can't do this-"

Eddie's voice is only a whispered breath against his lips and Steve feels like dying, feels every part of him begging to close the distance just for one last time, just one more taste.

"-not if this only a game to you. Not if you don't mean it. I can't be your experiment, Steve, because- I love you. Want you so much it hurts. And it would kill me to have you if I can't have you for real."

Steve wants to laugh, feels it bubbling up from his chest to his throat but it dies there, dissipates into a sob, something wet and helpless, a pathetic little sound he can't keep in no matter how hard he tries.

"You already have me, you idiot!" he yells and means himself with the insult, doesn't wait for a response, can't stop himself from leaning in.

He kisses Eddie without warning, like before, only deeper, desperate. It's ungraceful and messy but so good because Eddie kisses him back this time, doesn't pull away, stays. Stays where he belongs, where Steve wants him, needs him. Where he'll keep him, forever.

[queerweewoo]

“So, I overheard this guy in the line at the coffee shop this morning talking about name meanings—”

“Of course you did,” Eddie interjects, not unkindly.

Buck turned up with beers about a half hour ago, and has had his head in his phone for the last, what, twenty minutes? Something like that.

This is the first thing he's said since Eddie let him in and he sat his ass down on the couch in silence, looking like he needed Eddie to just allow him to.

Eddie did.

“—and I thought I'd look up ours.”

He's chewing on his bottom lip like it tastes good.

Eddie surprises himself by wondering if it does.

“I'm guessing you already know what Christopher means.”

Thinking back to when Shannon asked if he liked the name, Eddie smiles.

“Means 'Bearer of Christ', or something, right? We chose it because was Shannon's grandfather's name, though. He was Greek, and she adored him.”

Searching fingers instinctively find his pendant. It's positioned to the left, sitting right over his heart.

He misses his son like he'd miss a lung.

Buck looks up at him and smiles back, and Eddie feels glad the release he'd found dancing 'round his living room earlier isn't going to suddenly disappear down the bathroom sinkhole, along with his moustache.

“So, tell me, what does Edmundo mean, oh scholarly one?”

Buck's eyebrows try to meet his hairline.

“You don't know?”

Eddie tips his head back against the couch and scrunches his mouth up into nose.

“I have sisters, man, of course I know what it means. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to tell me.”

Buck seems somewhat happy with that.

“Well, it's a derivative of the Old English name Edmund, which is a combination of the words ēad and mund. The first part means prosperity, or riches, which is a bit of a bust, sorry man,” and he tries for a grin. It almost hits.

“But the the mund part means protector—which is pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Buck's eyelashes are kind of blonde, and kind of pretty. Eddie's thought it before, but there's just something about them in this light, in Eddie's house, on Eddie's couch.

“It's actually a real pretty name, Edmundo. Don't know if I've ever told you I think that.”

“Don't think I've ever told you your eyelashes are kind of pretty, so that makes us even, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at Buck, big and genuine, and somehow it's so easy.

Buck smiles back. Looks a little confused, or pleased, or both. Eddie's not sure, but either is okay with him.

“Um, thanks?”

Eddie bites his tongue between his teeth in a poor effort to stop his grin turning positively goofy.

Buck takes it for what it is, and bats his eyelashes at Eddie, silly, and laughs.

His whole demeanor then changes as he finally settles properly into the couch and gifts his lungs with what might be the first proper breath he's taken since he arrived.

“Anyway, Evan is the worst of the three. It means yew, like the tree? Which is—it symbolises, like, spirituality, and rebirth and shit like that. 'S not really, uh, me, you know?”

“You mean like Evan isn't really you?”

Buck bites at his red, red lip again.

Eddie decides it'd taste like cherry Chupa Chups.

“Yeah. But it's—my name.”

“Except it isn't though, it's it?” Eddie reminds him. “You're name is Buck, Buck. You decided that.”

“I don't know why he always insisted on calling me Evan. Or why I just—let him. It was kind of weird.”

Tommy.

"Called? Past tense?” Eddie flips his tongue in his mouth. Breathes a little more deliberately.

Buck looks at his phone again before he's slowly placing it down on the couch between them.

His fingers are touching the outside of Eddie's thigh, and Eddie's suddenly acutely aware that he still isn't wearing any pants.

Buck leaves his hand where it is.

“He, uh, he dumped me. Because I—”

Buck sucks in oxygen, a lot of it, and holds it in his lungs before puffing out his cheeks as he makes a show of blowing it back out again.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

Eddie was not expecting either of those statements.

"Ouch.”

Buck's fingers twitch against Eddie's skin, and Eddie feels it travel right down his leg and into his toes, which curl involuntarily into the carpet.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers, kind of knowing Buck doesn't. He will when he's ready.

“Not really.”

Eddie licks at his lips. They taste like beer, and a little like confidence.

“How about Buck?”

Buck looks at him, perplexed.

Eddie's leg is starting to cramp a bit.

He doesn't move it.

“A Buck is another name for a stag, right?” he continues. “And the stag symbolises strength and purity—

“Don't forget fertility” Buck is looking at Eddie, and it feels like something.

Eddie snorts. “'Course, don't wanna forget fertility.”

Buck smiles the first proper Buck smile of the evening, and Eddie's feels it in his chest.

“Hey, hang on, how come you know so much about stags, Edmundo?”

“You did that project with Chris about the forest.”

Buck blinks at him.

“Dude that was, like, years ago. And, as you said, I was the one learning all about the woodland creatures and different types berries and toadstools, so how do you—”

“Because you told me,” Eddie shrugs a shoulder.

Buck blinks some more.

“And you—remembered that?” he asks.

In this moment, Eddie couldn't blink, nor look away from Buck, even if somebody were to pay him.

“I remember everything you tell me.”

It's weird but it's like the air itself is crackling as they sit here, just staring at each other.

They look at each other for what feels like a long time. Or maybe it's just a single heartbeat, Eddie can't really be sure.

He watches as Buck swallows, his Adam's apple a calling card.

Eddie isn't entirely sure of why he thinks of that.

Until he is.

When Buck moves his hand, it's to slide it fully onto Eddie's thigh to just sit there, right at home.

Eddie's suddenly blinking so much he's a little worried he might be stroking.

He doesn't mean to say, “Can you smell toast?” but finds himself saying it anyway.

Buck smile is both crooked and adorable.

“You worried you're having a stroke, old man?”

“We'd have been at the same school at the same time, Buck. I'm not that much older than you.”

“You are old and I am young and everyone and the universe knows this,” Buck claims, cocky and sure of himself once more.

Eddie licks at his lips again.

“I, uh, I think I finally believe you.”

Buck now mirrors him, licking his own lips.

Cherry Chupa Chups.

“You mean about the universe?” he's asking, like he doesn't almost always knew what Eddie means.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Buck waits.

Just as Eddie is thinking he really should go put some on some sweats or something, Buck must get impatient because he replies, “I think it always wanted you to believe.”

Eddie doesn't have a clue what time it is, or whether he had dinner or not, or how he got so damn lucky.

“I'm gonna choose to believe, because you believe—and I believe in you, Buck” he says, somehow both sure and unsure of absolutely everything that is to come.

At long last, he finds he is totally okay with that.

“Anyways, I can hear it now,” he tells Buck, “and I'm listening.”

.

unedited; pls be kind!

[mywritersmind]

pookieeee how are youuu 💗 I'm in NEED of a Franco fic where the reader is João Félix's little sister...

So she obvi speaks Portuguese and English (maybe some Italian in there too) butttt unlike her brother her Spanish is rusty. So when reader drags her brother (and of course some of the guys from the team) to support her best friend at a race, he's listening in to every little comment Franco makes about her in Spanish and trying to subtly give hints to reader that he likes her, and of course some good brother teasing! Just hardcore fluff, friend pining and good old family banter!

HE CAN UNDERSTAND - FC43

listen up : i used google translate don’t come for me. not proofread! super cute and fluffy! loved this request sorry if i didng execute it well😭

word count : 2281

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Franco!” I jump into my best friends arms as he laughs. The moment I asked for three Grand Prix tickets, he sent them over immediately and went on a rant of how excited he was to see me.

“Y/n!” He grins widely at me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” He's in his race suit, his hair messy and extra wavy. I run my hand through it, fixing it a bit.

“You’re a mess.” I laugh as he pushes my hand away and rolls his eyes, “Oh!” I suddenly remember that my brother is standing behind me. “This is my brother, João! I can’t believe you two haven’t met!” I smile at both of them as my brother shakes Franco’s hand.

Oddly professional for someone he knows I love. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/n never shuts up about you.” I slightly blush at his words as Franco lets out a laugh.

“Good to know…” Franco gives us a mini tour. I'm so beyond happy for him. This has been his dream since forever, the first time I met him he even jokingly flirted and said I could be a WAG.

Franco is charming and hilarious so my brother likes him instantly. We end up in the William’s garage, everyone scrambling around and talking in languages I can’t understand.

Since it’s race day, i’m genuinely surprised Franco had the time to see us. Especially since Qualifying was earlier today.

But my best friend works in magical ways.

⋆༺

FRANCO

I watch Y/n talk to Alex’s girlfriend. I watch as her hair flows down her back and her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “So,” João turns to me, sort of intimidating for his height but so far I think he approves of me. “You’ve known Y/n for a while, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah, she hasn't been able to shake me yet.” He laughs, nodding his head.

“You care about her?” Why do I feel like i’m getting interrogated?

I nod, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“I mean as more than a friend.”

I laugh uncomfortably, joking with him, “Are you asking me my intentions?” He does not find this funny. I clear my throat and breathe out, “We’re just friends.”

Y/n comes skipping back over to us. I’ve always been taught to not lie, but i’m not about to confess that I like her to fucking brother.

“J, you’ve got to see his car!” She takes his arm and pulls him away, “You coming, Fran?”

I’m about to follow after them but my engineer taps my shoulder, “Gimmie one second! Don't touch anything, Y/n, I know how you are!”

She gives me one of her signature smiles, making my pulse quicken and my smile falter. I catch her brother giving me an odd look before I sit up and wave.

I turn to my engineer who’s smiling, big, “Dios mío, te estás sonrojando.” (My god, you’re blushing.) I roll my eyes at him, turning to see Y/n point to my car and start asking questions to someone in blue.

“¡Cállate por favor!” (Shut up please!) Her Spanish is more than rusty. I've tried to teach her some but she gets distracted and she always ends up persuading me into something different. Still, it’s weird talking about her when she’s right there.

“Vamos, ¡te gusta! Es la forma en que la miras... como si fuera el sol.” (Come on, you like her! It’s the way you look at her… like she’s the sun.) I push his shoulder at his words. Christ, is it that obvious?

“Actúas como si fuera un cachorrito enamorado.” (You act like i’m some lovesick puppy)

“¡Porque lo eres! Siempre hablas de ella, tu pantalla de bloqueo es ella, ¡siempre le estás enviando mensajes de texto! Admítelo.” (Because you are! You always talk about her, your lock screen is her, you are always texting her! Just admit it.)

I cross my arms at him, not daring to glance back at her. “No voy a arruinar mi relación con ella…” I shake my head and tease him, “¡Ahora vuelve a trabajar!” (I’m not ruining my relationship with her… now get back to work!)

I join Y/n and João again, smiling and doing my duty as a tour guide. João gives me another weird look and i’m hoping it’s not because i’m losing his trust. I know i’m not her boyfriend, but I still want him to like me.

They are soon asked to step into the visitors area as I warm up for the race. Y/n kisses my cheek before she goes, “Good luck, Fran. Be careful!” I know my cheeks are red but all I can focus on is her so close to me, her lips on my cheek.

I nod, “Thank you. Have fun watching.” I wink at her and turn, getting ready.

⋆༺

YOU

“I’m so nervous! It’s so rainy!” I bite my lip as the cars go out on track in a second formation lap. The race hasn’t even started and someone’s already out!

My brother eyes me, he’s been acting weird all day and I hate it. He suddenly turns to me, “You don’t like Franco?”

It catches me off guard, “Uh… of course I do?” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean can you see yourself with him? I think you’d be cute.” I laugh out loud.

“João, when have you ever wanted me to date someone?” Especially Franco. I mean, maybe i’ve thought about it.

Okay maybe I've fantasized about it… a lot.

But what am I supposed to do? Confess to my best friend who’s always been there for me that I think he’s irresistible and criminally hot? No.

“I just think if you’re gonna date anyone… He’s a good option.” My cheeks heat as I shake my head, “You’re blushing! Come on, Y/n, why not?”

“Just shut up, the race is starting!”

The next time he brings it up is at a yellow flag, “He’s definitely nicer than your ex.” I give him a death glare and attempt to tune him out, “And who did you go crying to after he broke your heart….?” Franco. The answer is Franco because he’s always there.

It’s been hard recently because of his races, but he’s constantly texting or calling me. I think he just wants someone to gossip with.

“Again, he’s my friend. Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn’t mean you know everything!”

“No but I know everything about you, and you don’t look at your other friends like that.” I hate that stupid smug smile on his face. And I hate that he’s right.

My stomach drops when Franco goes into the wall. I grab onto my brother's arm who doesn’t look concerned at all and more happy that i’m so worried! I slap his arm, “You have no empathy!”

I cross my arms, biting my lip as I watch him exit the car. Thank god he’s okay.

Franco gives me a small thumbs up when he’s back in the garage. I can tell he’s absolutely gutted, the air is awkward and thick with tension since Franco’s crash meant that the whole team's weekend is over.

The race is long and honestly scary. Still, all I can think about is Franco.

Maybe this weekend, his attention to me, my brothers comments, and how Franco’s been looking at me, has finally sealed what I've been dreading.

I’ve known I like him for a while, but I don’t want to ruin us. I can’t be embarrassed by my closest friend!

I’m not an idiot, I see how he flirts with interviewers or even fans. Part of me wants to believe that’s just his personality, but the other part is screaming at me that he doesn’t like me.

His eyes though, he looks at me so deeply that sometimes I feel like I'm apart of some big trick.

“Hey,” My brother nudges me, “Race is over.” I snap out of whatever daze I was in and nod, “I gotta pee, go talk to Franco!”

When I look to where he points, Franco’s already looking at me. His race suit is unzipped and he looks so tired. “Hi.” He smiles softly but I can tell it’s forced.

“Sorry your first race with me sucked.” He frowns, leaning against the little barrier from the garage and friends and family.

“Hey…” I touch his arm briefly, “It did not suck! And It’s not your fault. It was scary though…”

His eyes look sad and I know it’s not just because he crashed. Franco feels so deeply and this weekend has been especially hard for him. I can tell he sees the worry on my face, “I'm really really happy you’re here. We’re getting dinner later, right?”

I go to the hotel with João first. We change and meet back at the restaurant. “I’m so hungry!” I groan as we sit down, Franco said he would be here soon but I am not above ordering early.

João sits across from me, “Gotta wait for your boyfriend.”

I eye him, “You better not say anything in front of Franco. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He laughs a bit.

“I really don’t think I will.” He’s so ominous today. “I can tell i’m making you uncomfortable though. My only question is… why?”

“Why?”

“Why can’t you accept that you like him? He’s obviously not going to turn you down. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes when he talks to you.” The waiter brings water which I gulp down immediately.

“I- No! I can’t like him. He’s my friend.”

“So you’ve said… but the best relationships start out that way.” Why is he pushing this so much?

“I just… I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”.

“Funny…” he mumbles something, “That's what he said too.” but I can’t hear him because Franco sits and starts saying hello.

Our dinner is amazing, the food is perfect and I can’t stop laughing at Franco and João. “You’ve gotta come to a match sometime!” My brother laughs, “The team would love you.”

Franco grins, “I would be honored! Y/n always talks about your games, you’re pretty good apparently.” This boosts my brother's ego far too much and we end the night while talking about football and childhood stories.

“He always teased me with his friends!” I roll my eyes at the memory, “They were all learning Spanish in highschool so I never understood them!”

Franco laughs as João shakes his head, “Why didn’t you take spanish in highschool?”

“I did! I just never caught on. Plus João became fluent after school anyway so his schooling barely helped.” I shrug as Franco’s expression turns odd.

He blinks, looking to João, “You’re fluent?”

“Si.” He looks almost smug about it as Franco nods slowly, swallowing.

“Así que escuchaste…” (So you heard…)

“Todo.” (Everything) Franco’s smile drops completely at my brothers words. But my brother still carries on with a smile, “Eres muy obvio, pero lo apoyo.” (You’re very obvious, but I support it.)

I frown at their communication that I can’t understand, “Okay, can you two stop gossiping? I’m ready to leave.” Franco smiles at me, nodding slowly as we stand.

Our walk back to the hotel is short and luckily no fans interrupt it. The warmth of the inside makes me smile and the ding of the elevator makes me yearn for my bed.

“Uh, Y/n?” I look back at Franco as he talks, “Could I speak to you for a moment…” I look at my brother who nods, a smile still on his face as he disappears behind the elevator doors. “Let’s go outside.”

It’s no longer raining so we venture out into the hotel's garden. It’s beautiful with tall plants and trees, a small path that we walk on, and flowers that I've never seen before.

“What did you walk to talk to me about?” I turn to him, he looks oddly scared and a bit chilly. He starts to speak but then closes his mouth and thinks, “Franco…?”

“I like you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I freeze, “I really like you and not just as a friend… like way more than that.”

I blink, “You’re kidding?”

The panic on his face is immediate, “No?”

“Shit. Okay!” I realize i’m so caught up in my own world that he probably thinks I don’t like him, “I feel the same.”

He breathes out, stepping closer, “You fucking scared me.”

I smile, not believing this is even real, “You really like me? Because my brother has been making me feel delusional all day!” He takes my hand in his and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“He heard me talking about you in spanish…” I raise a brow, “My engineer was teasing me and I didn’t know he spoke it!” I laugh, shaking my head at his story, “But I'm glad he did. I probably would be sitting in my room all alone if he hadn't.”

I grip his hand tighter, stepping closer, “I’m really glad too. I didn’t want to ruin anything but fuck I really like you.”

He grins and leans in, He paused before I nod. Franco presses a kiss to my lips softly, “I can’t believe you have a crush on me.” I whisper as groans and rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

“No! No taking it back now!” I laugh, pulling him back to me, my hand going to his neck and my lips meeting his, “You’re stuck with me now.”

[moonstruckme]

Hey angel!! hope ur doing well!!

i was wondering if I could request roommate!marauders where they have crushes on reader buttt she already has a bf but he's just a total jerk.... and u sorta get the idea?? (if u haven't done one like this already)

much love!!! <3333

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: douchebag boyfriend, marauders fancy reader but don't genuinely want her to cheat or end her relationship for them

(poly)roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s heartbreaking how lovely you look first thing in the morning. Sweet, rumpled pajamas, plodding gait, sunlight stretching over features still soft with sleep. You raise your hand to cover a yawn as you enter the kitchen, eyelashes still drooping like they’ve weights sewn into them. 

“Morning,” you say on the tail end. 

“Morning.” James opens one arm to you. You step into the hug automatically, and he drops a kiss to your head, his own private indulgence. You’re eyeing the omelet he’s frying up with his other hand. “Want one?” 

“Mm, wish I could,” your voice is a somnolent mumble, “but Dale’s taking me to breakfast in a bit.” 

James tries not to react, but his hold on you stiffens some. From the living room, he hears Sirius scoff. “Oh.” 

“I’m sure your omelet would be better.” You pat his side, moving out from under his arm to go to the coffee pot. “We’re going to this cafe he likes, and they never have anything I want. Still, I can hardly show up full.” 

James feels himself frown. Typical of your boyfriend to take you somewhere you don’t even like. Perhaps he’s a tad biased, but James thinks you should eat one of his omelets and show up full just to teach him a lesson. 

He plates up the one he’s just finished. You tail him into the living room as he delivers it to Sirius, curling your feet up underneath you on the couch. Remus is sitting in the armchair reading the paper. He and James have already had their breakfasts, but you and Sirius are always the last up on weekends.

“Are you finished with the funnies?” you ask Remus. 

He looks up at you with a tenderness James doesn’t know how you can’t see. “Yeah,” he says, shaking out a page. “Here.” 

Sirius snickers at your choice of reading material as you reach across him for it. You nudge his thigh with your knee. “Bite me.” 

“Anywhere you’d like me to, babe.” He winks. 

You roll your eyes and fold the page to read, well used to Sirius’ flirting. Similarly to how he’d done with Remus, Sirius’ ill-advised tactic for winning you over involves alternating between taunting you relentlessly and acting like his affection for you is all one big joke. It only barely worked on Remus—James’ interference had been required there, and that was before he’d admitted to himself his own feelings for either of the two boys—so James doesn’t understand why Sirius would give it another go with you. 

“Oh.” Remus closes his paper, seeming to remember something. “I was wondering if you might have time to go with me to the farmer’s market this morning. We’re out of eggs, but I can’t haggle with the woman like you do.” 

You give him a sorry sort of smile. “I would, but Dale’s meant to pick me up at ten.”

“Oh, well.” Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing malignantly on a bite of omelet. “If Dale said he’ll be here at ten, then surely that’s what’s happening.” 

You bump his thigh again good naturedly. “Be nice.” 

James bites his tongue, and even Remus reopens his newspaper with a tad more vigor than necessary. Sirius is by far the most vocal with you about your boyfriend’s flaws, but your roommates all hate him. The guy’s a prick. James would never in a million years try to convince you to leave your partner for them—and despite Sirius’ joking, he knows neither of the other boys would want that either—but if you broke up with Dale, he would be very tempted to throw a party. 

James really doesn’t understand how someone like you could end up with someone so holistically unpleasant as your boyfriend. He’s rude, inconsiderate, he doesn’t express any gratitude for the sweet things you do for him, and he is never where he says he’s going to be when he says he’s going to be there. He shows so little regard for anyone but himself. If he told you he was going to pick you up at ten in the morning, he’s just as likely to arrive at three in the afternoon. Even for your half-hearted defense of him, it’s nearly ten and you’ve made no move to change out of your pajamas or get ready, because you know he won’t be here on time. It irks your roommates to no end to see you tolerate such poor treatment. 

“Maybe you can go with Remus to the farmer’s market,” you tell Sirius. “You seem like you could negotiate.” 

“Sirius doesn’t know how much eggs are supposed to cost,” Remus says idly. 

“Oi!” Sirius objects through a mouthful of omelet. “I do so.” 

James smiles at him. “Really. How much do you think eggs cost, love?” 

Sirius manages to take another bite while James is asking, so his mouth is conveniently too full to answer. 

“I can manage it on my own,” Remus says with indulgent fondness. “Dove, do me one favor, though?” 

You lift your coffee. “Sure.” 

“Don’t let him summon you outside with his horn again.” 

There’s a brief but thick silence while you finish swallowing your coffee and all three boys try not to look too obviously judgmental (Sirius trying the least, naturally). The purse of your lips reveals some embarrassment. 

Still, your voice comes out unconcerned. “It’s not a big deal to me. It’s not like we’re in school and I need him to come to the door and meet my parents. It’s a time saver.” 

“It’s rude,” says Remus gently. “You deserve someone who will come to the door for you.” 

James’ thoughts exactly. 

“Sure you don’t want some toast or something while you wait?” James asks, partly to dispel the tension and partly because he really does think you should eat something if Dale isn’t likely to be here until the afternoon. “You could call it an appetizer.” 

You stand with your emptied coffee mug, passing an affectionate hand over James’ hair as you move between his legs and the coffee table. “Thanks,” you say genuinely, “but I’m alright. I’m going to go get ready.” 

However eager James is to avoid the tension that comes from insulting (or, really, just speaking frankly about) your boyfriend, Sirius has no such concerns. “While we’re telling Dale things,” he says after you, “be sure to remind him that our flat has a three-strike roommate tears policy. Next time you come home crying, Jamie and I get to make a house call.” 

Your laughter echoes down the hallway. “Sure, I’ll let him know.” 

Sirius looks at James, perplexed. “Did I sound like I was joking? I was not using my joking voice.” 

James pats his leg consolingly.

[brayneworms]

no, you hang up! | shota aizawa

kinktober day three: phone sex

word count. 2.2k

content. phone sex, reader and aizawa are coworkers, mutual masturbation, referenced age gap (once and it's minor + doesn't contribute to their relationship dynamic), dirty talk, no genitals for reader mentioned, gender-neutral reader, teasing (reader calls him names but it's all fairly playful), pre-relationship.

♪ agora hills — doja cat

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

You know it's him before you even look.

Your room is blue-dark, cold; the central heating must have turned off hours ago, still on to warm you to sleep even beneath two comforters. The recent winters were no joke—you walked around town at the moment with dry, blistering lips and dull skin and watery eyes. Even now, as you raise your head from the comfort of your sheets to the arid air, gooseflesh breaks over your skin.

Something pulses; it's what woke you in the first place. Some noise, some shift in the quiet. Outside it's still dark, not yet late enough for the light to start turning greyish and buoyant. It takes a muddled, groggy few seconds as the static in your head starts to clear that you realise it's your phone. 

You grope blindly for it; it's only vibrating, but you're a tepid sleeper at the minute, and it's more than enough to rouse you from whatever fitful slumber you'd managed to fall into. You have to be careful not to forget and turn on your side, put pressure on the sling that binds your arm as you reach under the sheets for your phone as it rings, rings, rings out. 

You slap a hand across the plastic case, lift it with a wince at the cold blue light that shines out like fingernails down a chalkboard. But yeah—when you read the name AIZAWA across the top of the screen in informal white capitals, you can't honestly say you're surprised.

You stab the green button on what's probably the eighth or ninth ring. "Yeah?"

There's a moment where he doesn't say anything. Where the line crackles the way the ozone layer does before the first strike of lightning. "...Did I wake you?"

"Yeah," you say again, returning to your back. Your bound arm gives a twinge of protest. 

"Sorry," he murmurs, in that dry tone of his, the one that rarely manages not to sound clipped and bored. "I guess I didn't realise how late it is."

You pull the phone away, glancing for the first time at the time in the right-hand corner. 02.11am. He did have a nasty habit of letting the night slip away from him—and his regular bouts of insomnia mean the lateness of the hour doesn't always impress upon him as it does for most people—but you suspect there may be more to it than that. There's a hesitance, a reluctance in his voice. 

"It's okay," you say finally. "Have to pee anyway."

The static rises as he huffs down the line. "How's the arm?"

"Feels like roadkill," you mumble, which doesn't make a lot of sense. But sue you, you're tired and the painkillers wore off in your sleep. "Why're you calling?"

Another crackle, a soft shift, like an out-of-tune radio adjusting frequency. "No... particular reason."

As the fatigue starts to clear from your heavy brain, you try to picture it. Shouta Aizawa—evidently not patrolling tonight, given the lack of cityscape din in the background of the call. It's quiet; you can maybe hear the low purr of a ceiling fan. Earlier, he'd shifted, and you'd heard the rustling of sheets. So, he's in bed. Lying there. Alone. Calling you.

He's pretty transparent. But to his credit, you don't think he's trying to be conspicuous. It's not incredibly in his nature. And it's not in yours to call him out on it, either, which he knows. It's why he does it.

Does, not like—like this is a regular thing, or anything. There have been one or two what you like to refer to as unrelated incidents over the eight-year course of your working relationship. A kiss at a New Year's party that lingered a moment too long, the time he took you home after a night at the bar with the other U.A. staff and you couldn't be in the staffroom alone with him for about a fortnight afterwards.

"Just missing the sound of my voice?" you ask, trying not to sound too coy. You don't want to make him skittish, and anyway you have a feeling he hates when you try to play up your (in your opinion) minor age difference. 

Another rustle, quieter, shorter. "...Something like that," he murmurs. His voice is soft, despite the timbre of it reaching down to some pit in his chest. 

"So should I talk?" you press. 

"Sure," he replies.

"About what?"

"Anything." He swallows. "Whatever... whatever you'd like to talk about."

You roll your tongue over your lower lip, suck it for a moment whilst you think. "I miss work," you start. Boring, mundane—testing the waters. "Being stuck at home sucks. And all my friends are my coworkers, so you're all at work every day. 'S pretty lonely."

"I see." There's a hint of strain in his voice, one that makes a dim chord strike somewhere low and pitiful inside you. You cross your legs over each other. "You know we'd visit if we had the time."

"Yeah, I know. I bought myself plants to give myself a reason to get out of bed," you say, casting a glance over at them as they rest on your windowsill. Their leaves wink and shiver in the current of cold breeze let in from the crack in your window. "I have to get up twice to water them. And then when I'm up, I think, I might as well get something to eat, exercise. Shower."

The last work is deliberately provocative, like pressing on a ripe bruise to see when it starts to hurt. Your reward is the faintest hitch of Aizawa's breath. 

"I talk to Hizashi every day," you continue, trying to keep your own voice even. The silence on the other end of the phone sounds deafening, your heartbeat starting to get uncomfortably forceful in your chest. "He texts a lot, about silly things. Keeping me up to date on stuff at the school. It's not the same as being there, but it's sweet that he tries." You pause. "I wish I could see everyone, though. Hey—can I see you?"

You let the question hang. Lining up a hunting rifle to a buck's head, letting it decide to stay or flee. Then,

"Hang on." It comes through gruff and short, but it makes your stomach twist all the same. A moment later, your phone hums with a notification. It hangs, a grey banner at the top of your screen. From Aizawa, with a photo attachment.

Your mouth goes dry as you stretch your thumb to tap it. It's a flash photo of a barely-lit room. You can see dark blue sheets and a grey comforter, and two legs in slouchy grey sweats, cocked apart, shoved halfway down his thighs. But in the crux of the photo—

"Jesus," you blurt before you can stop yourself. You hear Aizawa huff a noise on the other end of the phone, could be laughter, could be something else. It’s not like your entirely inexperienced with Aizawa’s cock, but that was a while ago and there’s a big difference between a drunken sticky fumbling in the dark and seeing it properly, in low warm light, heavy and hard with his hand wrapped around it. His fingers, thick and pale, you can’t help but want them on you. Circled around your ankle, maybe, pulling you apart for him with that quiet, unassuming strength of his. 

“Is that a good or bad reaction?” he asks, and the note of strain is thicker than ever. He sounds strangled. “Should I start worrying—about my job position?”

“Probably,” you answer. “But—no. How long’ve you been touching yourself?”

You hear his breath hitch again at the casual crudeness of your words. “How long’ve you been on the phone?”

A hot red flash zips through you. Before your head has given your body permission, you’ve laid the phone down flat on your chest, speakers buzzing through your shirt as you slip a hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. You go straight for what feels good, finding yourself already embarrassingly ready, shuddering as your fingers brush the most sensitive parts of yourself. 

“You’re such a creep,” you groan, head back against the pillow. Aizawa makes a quick, cut noise in the back of his throat. “One week without staring down my shirt in the staff room and you resort to this?”

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off, sighing shakily. “I don’t stare.”

He does fucking stare, it’s just quite subtle and it took you a while to notice. 

“Yeah, right.” Your fingers curl and search, press and glide. You’re hot and wet, for him, for the first glimpse of lust since your leave of absence began. “Bet you’d do anything for a taste.”

“...Maybe,” he stammers, breathing hard and quick against the phone. Now you can hear a soft stream of sounds coming through, a shlck-shlck-shlck that makes your blood hot and your brain fuzzy. “Maybe I’ve thought about it. Once or twice.”

“Dirty old man,” you say, half-babbling, and he groans low in his throat. You wish you could see him, God you can picture it—head thrown back, thick dark hair splayed against the rumpled pillows like a funeral shroud, sleep shirt ruched up to show the soft pale plane of his stomach dusted with dark spiralling hairs. You’d follow the pattern down to where the hair was thickest, push your hand through to where he was hard and hot as a brand for you. You didn’t get much time to play with him before, restless and lazy and horny off the cheapest champagnes you could order at the bar; he’d been inside you before too long and back out far too soon. 

“I’m n-not…” Hearing his resolve start to crack and fracture is the hottest thing in the world. Your own fingers work faster, jamming at the spots that make your legs gooey and your stomach start to tauten. “Isn’t my fault you look like that.”

Your giggle is breathless, half a moan. “Took that right out of the old perverts’ handbook,” you mutter. “Don’t break a hip on your way over here.”

“Shut up, shut up,” he grunts. “Damn it—shouldn’t have called—”

“I’m glad you did,” you say. Sweat is starting to collect in your armpits and the back of your neck. “Been so bored. This is the first time I’ve felt anything in weeks.”

His breath is ragged. “What do you feel?” he asks hoarsely. 

“Hang on.” The photo you send is conservative compared to his; just a shot of your hand disappearing into the waistband of your shorts. But you hear his stifled whimper, low in his throat, crackling with desperation. 

“God,” he hisses. “You have no idea what I’d do to you.”

“I have—some idea,” you mumble. 

“No, not like before,” he growls. “I was too drunk to do much of anything. What a waste. I’d never let you go if I had you now. I’d make you cum three times before I even thought about fucking you. My mouth, my hands, my thigh, anything.”

You imagine the scratch of his stubble on your inner thigh, or your own legs clamped around the thick muscle of his thigh, and nearly white out. You’re not in control, not of the way your hips cant desperately against your hand or the desperate moan his words pull from you, turning to stifle it into the pillow. 

“I want you inside me so bad,” you find yourself babbling, hot with embarrassment over the desperation in your voice. You sound close to tears. “Jesus—your hands, I’m always thinking about it. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He makes a keening, desperate noise, like a starving animal going for food. “Show me.”

You barely hesitate, ripping your shorts and underwear all the way off, and it’s only a few more desperate strokes of your fingers until you feel them flood over, your whole body shuddering and legs twitching. Your chest heaves and you blink up at the ceiling, withdrawing your hand from between your legs. Very awkwardly, you manage balance your phone enough in your slung hand to take a photo, the flash illuminating the mess between your thighs, the gleam of your own spend on your fingers. Before you can let embarrassment get a hold of you prematurely, you send the picture to Aizawa.

The result in instantaneous. He pulls a breath through his teeth. “God—fuck, look at you. So messy. God, I’m—” A choked-off moan, the breathiest noise you’ve ever heard from him as he cums. You lie there, warm all over, your skin singing as you listen to him fall apart on the other side of the phone. The speakers tickle your skin as you scrub a hand down your face.

After, you listen to his harsh panting breath. Then there’s a pocket of silence, the sort neither of you know how to break.

Finally, you cave. “...Feel better?”

“Don’t,” he mumbles. “This was… highly inappropriate.”

“Agreed.”

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Probably not.”

There’s a pause. “...Is it fine? That I did?”

A smile touches your mouth. “Yeah, it is.”

He huffs. You picture him rubbing at his eyes, drawing the skin inward to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Well, then… yes. I do feel better.”

“Get off work early sometime,” you murmur. “I get so bored around here. Could use the company.”

You’re not sure why, but you think he’s smiling. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

taglist: @deltamel (+ask to join!!)

[postracehair]

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

__

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO YOUR INJURIES

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao ･ alhaitham ･ ayato. genshin impact. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

[bbydoll18xx]

I Try to Refrain (But You’re Stuck in my Brain)

You have a dream about Paige, and it leads to some shocking revelations.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: loneliness, reader realizes she's in love with her best friend, paige is a flirt (what's new?)

A/N: hi guys. sorry it's been a hot min. This election has made me miserable and my grandpa just died today so I wrote this to distract myself lol. I wanted to write something that wasn't fluff before coming out with a new part to I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit, so hopefully this will suffice. Please don't let this flop

Also Is There Somewhere is one of most favorite songs of all time you all should check it out if you've never heard it !!

Please enjoy:)

~

There was simply no denying that being a college student was pretty fucking exhausting. Between your on-campus casual job, the extensive list of assignments you had racked up, and the overwhelming need to still have a social life, the circles under your eyes had become much more pronounced in the last few weeks. 

You needed your beauty sleep, or else you’d be well on your way to looking like Shrek by the end of the semester. And because you had been on the hunt to end your single streak, looking like Shrek would be the worst thing to happen. 

You giggle to yourself, the sleep deprivation clearly making you delirious. Checking your watch, you see that you had in fact been up for a whopping 28 hours. It was time for a seriously good nap. You throw your backpack onto the floor of your bedroom, tugging your sweatshirt off of you and flopping down onto your bed. The plushness engulfs you in warmth and comfort, lulling you into a deep, calming sleep, that you so desperately needed.

Or so you thought.

~

You wake up panting. The air around you is suffocatingly hot, and you can feel the sheets twisted uncomfortably around your legs, trapping you in the warmth. Your heart is pounding against your chest, and you slide your hand across your sternum in a futile effort to soothe yourself. 

The dream was quickly fading, and you squeeze your eyes in deep concentration, desperate to hold on to the remnants of it before they fled from your racing thoughts. 

It was hazy. But the pounding of your chest and the fluttering that accompanied made you feel like you were missing a key detail. It was right on the tip of your tongue, inching further and further away the more you search for the answers. 

You were in bed with another person. They were warm, and their laugh was enough to make you want to get down on one knee right then and there. You were cuddled up with them, the feeling of peace washing over you.

It has been a long time since you felt peace, and as you search for more clues to unearth your future love of your life, the wistfulness settles deep inside you. It mocks you, whispering into your ear that you’d never feel so lucky to be at peace with someone. 

The last of the dream fades, and you groan, throwing your arm over your face and vowing to prove your meanest, most vile inner voices wrong. 

Because, goddamn it, you did deserve to be loved. And maybe, just maybe, it would happen for you. 

~

You go to bed that night with a fierce determination to coax your brain into revealing more, and as you settle into bed, you pop two benadryl tablets. 

‘This’ll give me some good dreams,’ you think slyly, before shutting your eyes and waiting for the next clue, sleep quickly overcoming your thoughts.

You sleep soundly, waking the next morning with a crick in your neck and long, blonde hair on your brain. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, your dream still playing again in your muddled brain. “It’s a girl," you say incredulously.

"Or maybe an Australian surfer dude," you say sarcastically out loud to yourself.

"God, I'm losing it," you mumble, rubbing a hand over your sleepy eyes.

Her face was blank, deluding you of figuring out who it really was, but the familiar, tinkling laughter was playing on a loop. It was making you crazy. 

Your thoughts drift back to being tangled up with lean limbs, the soft hair flowing over slim, strong shoulders and down the girl’s bare back. You recall how you had traced a line down the line of her spine, goosebumps erupting in the wake of your touch. 

She was strong and delicate, a dichotomy of perfection that had your thighs clenching in want and your heart clenching in need.

You sigh. It felt almost real, and now it was being ripped from you every time you woke up. It felt unnecessarily cruel, and tears prick your eyes as reality sets in. You were escaping to a fantasy world in your dreams to avoid the crushing forlornness that was settling deep into your bones. 

Loneliness was certainly the muse, it seemed. 

~

You meet up with your friends later that night, searching for a distraction from the blonde hair that was currently haunting every waking moment. As you cross campus to head to Aubrey’s apartment, you scold yourself as each blonde who passes you makes you glance hopefully in their direction. 

There had to be something to jog your memory, unclouding the face you wanted nothing more to recognize. But each face elicited a disappointed pang in your stomach that spread an uncomfortable coldness through the rest of your body. 

You shake your head as you approach Aubrey’s door, trying to rid yourself of the disheartened aura you were currently giving off. 

You and Aubrey had become friends two years ago, and by extension, the rest of her team and her girlfriend had accepted you with open arms. You were looking forward to Caroline and Azzi’s wisdom and kind smiles. And KK and Ice’s laughter would certainly be a great distraction. 

Your mind gently drifts towards Paige before the door swings open with a large bang, and a loud, joyous cry erupts from the group of girls in the apartment. 

You wave at them, cheeks turning pink from the attention. You scan the room, letting your brain secretly look for Paige, just to check to see if it would trigger the flashes of your dream. 

You move towards the kitchen, joining into a heated discussion KK and Jana were having about Legos, eyes still darting around curiously.

“I’m obviously the best and fastest builder,” KK boasts, sticking her tongue out childishly at her teammate, and you giggle, taking a sip of your drink as Jana voraciously defends herself and her Lego-building abilities.

It was almost subconscious. You step back, as if you were being pulled against your will, and you hit a wall of warmth and muscle. Your heart lurches as your mind registers what was happening. 

“Damn, ma. I gotchu, don’t worry,” Paige mumbles in your ear, chuckling as you turn into a bumbling mess in her firm grasp. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry, P,” you whisper, not trusting your full voice. You steady yourself, proud that you at least did not spill your drink. 

Her hand slides down your side to rest heavily on your waist, and her touch ignites a fire in your belly. Your breath hitches as you look up at her. Her hair is down for once, flowing across her shoulders, and your head spins as she laughs again. 

You knew that laugh.

“Never gonna complain about having to rescue a pretty girl,” she flirts, and you turn your head, not wanting her to see the way her words sent your face up in a blaze of heat. The realization hits you like a crashing wave.

Your dream was about Paige fucking Bueckers.

Your friend, Paige Bueckers. 

You were so goddamn fucked.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

~

What'd we think?? Please let me know. I might do another part if you guys are up for it.

Thanks so much for reading. I'm hoping I will be writing more frequently from now on

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @sophswbb, @dietcokesmom, @tndaqlifwy, @ch12334, @double22, @inthedeathofherreptuation, @authentic-girl03, @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold, @ittiwdwysylm @sillylittlefakeacc

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

[allllium]

Jason Todd x childhood friend fem

fluff and potential angst

Jason runs into childhood friend from befor he died and she recognizes him

Back in Time

[ Jason Todd x Childhood Best Friend!Reader ]

~ Fluff, Maybe a little hurt/comfort, WC: 1,089

~ I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 Every time I went to write this it's like all ideas flew out of my head, but I finally got it done and I hope it meets your expectations<3

"Jason?"

He freezes.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice today.

He wasn't expecting to hear your voice ever again.

Once he came back, you were gone.

He would say he tried to look for you but that isn't true. He thought your leaving was the universe telling him to leave you alone.

But now you're here. You're here and you recognize him. He doesn't know how to respond. He knows you know he heard you, otherwise he wouldn't have stopped moving.

The first thing he hears in your voice is the sadness. Not anger like he would've expected. Not even a hint of confusion. Just something sad.

After a minute of him being unmoving, clearly lost in his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Jason." You say.

This time it's not a question.

After he hears you a second time, he brings himself to turn around and look at you.

"Hey."

"Hey." He can't tell if you're about to cry or smile.

"I'm sorry." He immediately apologizes. Maybe for leaving or maybe for not finding you. He's not quite sure.

"For what?" You ask and take a deep breath.

He sees the way tears form in your eyes and has the strange urge to cry himself.

"I don't know. I just feel like I need to."

"You don't. Dick told me what happened. That's not something you need to be sorry for." You say it so surely he doesn't know how to respond.

"I was gonna find you."

"That's not your job. I mean a phone call would've been nice." You shrug and let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"I didn't know what to do." He tells you quietly.

"I would assume." You look around the sidewalk you're on. You're standing in front of what looks like a busy shop, people walk in and out every couple seconds.

"Where did you go?" He asks you after a moment. Probably to determine whether or not he could've found you.

"I was here. I mean I stayed in Gotham just not where I was before."

"If I had known you were so close I would've gone to you but when they told you left I assumed-"

"Jason, you don't have to defend yourself." You cut him off quickly, "If I died and came back the last thing on my list would be finding someone who left."

He nods. "This might be easier if you were at least a little mad." He smiles softly at you, watching more tears shine in your eyes.

"I missed you too much to be mad right now."

He goes to say something back but someone walking by bumps into your shoulder.

"Maybe we should get coffee or something?" He suggests, not wanting to keep blocking the sidewalk traffic.

"Are you free?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." Dick can wait, he thinks to himself.

"Then yeah, coffee sounds great."

You both walk into the coffee shop and order whatever drinks sound good. Jason chooses a table against the wall and by a giant window.

You sit awkwardly in silence as you both try and think of what to say.

"How are you doing?" You ask, after multiple minutes of nothing.

"I'm okay, I think." He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. You take notice of his fingers tapping nervously along the side of the cup.

"That's good." You nod and sigh.

"How are you?"

"I've been better." You answer honestly. Your fingers also tap nervously along your cup.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why this is so weird."

You laugh at his words, "I do. It's been a while."

"And I'm guessing we've both changed." He smiles.

"Changed? No shit Jason, look at you." You smile at him in a reassuring way. You can clearly see how dying has changed him.

"Yeah I guess I did get a little taller." He jokes and shakes his head.

"Maybe just an inch or two." You play along, laughing as you speak.

"I missed this. I missed you." He tells you with a sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Well good thing it isn't going away this time." You reach across the table and grab his hand.

It was never unusual for you and Jason to be touchy. That's just the kinda friendship you had. But this feels different.

Instead of being a friendly touch between best friends, it's more like a reassurance that's he's actually alive. A piece of you feels relief that you're not imagining this.

"I really hope so." He wishes with a frown.

"It won't. If you think I'm leaving your side anytime soon you're very very wrong."

"What's one more person to the gang that follows me everywhere?" He laughs again and squeezes your hand. It's the first time he's felt so free to last in a while.

"Where is that gang by the way? I would've expected one of them to be here by now."

"Oh I left while they weren't looking. I needed time to myself."

"You snuck out? Jason, they're probably panicking." You scold him softly.

"It's fine I'm meeting with Dick later."

You shake your head in disapproval but a smile on your face gives you away once again.

For some reason no matter how sad you are, a smile can't leave your lips.

You fall back into a silence but this time it's not awkward at all. It's a comfortable silence that reminds you of old times.

"I should probably get going. Dick will be pissed if I'm late."

"Yeah I don't doubt it." You recall the many times Dick has given long lectures about being late to anything he's involved in.

"I'll call you." He swears, standing up from his seat at the table.

"You better. I know where to find you." You stand up as well and finish off your drink.

"Yes you do." He agrees but doesn't leave.

You stand together in front of your table. Both of you are waiting for the other to move first.

Just as you're about to make the move to leave he steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You immediately hug back and feel the tears reappear in your eyes.

"I really missed you." He whispers.

"I really missed you too." You whisper back.

You savor every moment of the embrace. Not wanting to leave out of fear that he would leave again.

But as you watch him walk away to meet with his brother, you're overcome with the happiness of knowing your best friend is here.

[boofeine]

complicated freak – lsk

pairing: dk x fem reader

genre: smut one shot

synopsis: you feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now; your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick cock.

warnings: mdni, fingering, dirty talk, roleplay (kinda), one single spank, cum, riding, mention of face riding, fighting dominance, descriptive, protected penetrative sex

song: baby said by maneskin / complicated freak by harry styles / ironically shhh! by viviz also came out :)

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Seokmin is a lot of things, but what he's most known for is his sweetness and kindness. That's what draws you in on first place. He's so welcoming, makes your heart flutter just from receiving his attention. You were done for, when you got yourself just a little bit way too into it, into him, the way butterflies come to your stomach when he gets shy on your presence.

It came as a surprise for you too, when he turned a completely different person between sheets. You have no idea in which point you got yourself in here, but it's definitely not your last. You got your body against his more times than you could admit, and crave it more than you think you should. The problem is that he's so soft, it makes you feel dirty for having this thoughts when he's not burried on your pussy.

You feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now. Your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick dick. He rests his back on the sofa, his spread legs on the floor not doing any good either as you stare at his side profile while he talks.

The outline of his nose making you remember how deliciously it pokes at your clit while he tongue fucks you, a rush of heat spreading on your body up to your cheeks as your core suddenly feel needy for his attention. Every time he looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking what he will say next, gathering his thoughts, your mind is wilding in how you want to climb up that couch and sit on his pretty face.

"What do you think?" Seokmin's voices echoes, making you blink at him, having not a clue what he's talking about as he stares back at you, waiting for some type of response.

"Hm? Sorry?" You tilt your head, not going unnoticed that you weren't paying attention, your heart dropping to a whole, feeling guilty.

"The movies on saturday? That is this one new movie I was talking about..." He starts again but the ache on your pussy is getting unbearable.

"Hum... Hum... Sounds good" You let out. Your hand shamelessly caressing his biceps, going down his arms as you slightly pull it to you. It's not innocently that the motion makes his soft fingers grease against your exposed thighs. You suppress a gasp, your mouth agape, his hands close enough to where you need him the most.

"Oh, sorry" He says, resting his hand on the side of your body instead, as you tug to his arm. Fuck! Why is he so sweet?

He starts talking about something else again. The same guilty creeping through you as you don't pay a single attention, your body going further as if he will be able to read the signs.

"Seokmin, baby..." You interrupt him mid word, his face moving to look at you, the pet name coming out as a surprise to him "I know you want to talk but my pussy is so fucking wet right now" You shamelessly confess as his eyes bulge.

"Oh-" It's all he's able to reply. Your hands that haven't left his arms, pulling it to your legs. His eyes following your motions and back to your face "You know I'm a little sad you weren't listening to me" He says, not true to his words.

"Seokmin... I-" You try.

"No, No" He cuts off immediately "I was saying something that I really wanted you to know but all you can think of it's my cock on your pussy" He mocks, his big hands gripping a hand full of your thighs this time.

"I'm sorry" You pouts and he giggles a little.

"You should be" He says, restraining his hands from your skin as he takes this to where you left it "So, as I was saying, there's this restaurant..."

You groan, your head going back as you get tired of waiting and being nice "Fuck, Seokmin! Shut up" You let out, your hands grabbing and guiding his hand to your pussy. He laughs, he fucking laughs at how desesparate you are. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed core, his fingers greasing over the material as you relax at his touch, your head going back, eyes shut at finally feeling something.

"They do have really good food" He says back about the damn restaurant to provoke you as you grunt, frustrated. He leans a little closer to your face, cupping your cunt through the thong "But don't worry, the only thing I can think of eating is you right now" He lowers his tone to whisper it to you.

"Good" You answer "Thought you'd never shut up" Your smart mouth takes over as he smirks.

His hand pulls your thong to the side, taking a long stroke at your folds as you mewl, a heavy breath getting out like it needed to. Your hips bulking to his hand and legs spreading almost instinctively.

"Shit, you really are wet" he responds. Seokmin gathers the slick up to your clit, massaging the muscle in small circles. the grip you have on his arm getting stronger each motion of his fingers. You're wet enough to hear the sounds of it as he goes down to enter you with his digits. Your nails dig to his skin, your head lowering as your forehead rests where his shoulders and arms meet. The gasps turning into moans as he fucks you. He moves slowly, watching you break.

"Seokmin, baby..." You say gripping his wrist this time. That fucking pet name again, he wont ever get used to it, his cock tightening on his pants. "Wait" you push him out, your cunt pulsating with the loss but just enough to get up and take your thong out and sit on his lap. He welcomes you like he always does, watching you undo his jeans to be met at the sight of his hardening length pressing on his boxers. But before you can even drink in the sight, he's back at pushing two fingers inside you. Your back arch when he curls them inside, getting on your sweet spot.

You moan out his name as he presses the spot continuously with the tip of his fingers. You can't help but roll your eyes, the knot forming on your stomach as an unimaginable amount of arousal slip out of your entrance. "Fuu- ah! Minnie... Not yet, please!" You beg as you feel your legs shake.

Like he's so obedient to you, he stops, restraining his hands as you squirm over him. "You made a show to have it, and now you're going back?" he spits out as you still try to calm down your breathing, eyes slowly opening.

"I want..." You try.

"What? Say it" he demands as his wet hands from your slick goes under his boxers, taking his cock out with a gasp of relieve. You stare at it, the way he spreads the wetness on his cockhead making you whine at the view.

"I want your cock... inside me" You plea as he starts to bump himself, letting out a groan.

"Of course you do" He says smartly with a smirk "Go get a condom on my wallet" He says. You reach for his pocket, knowing he came with anything else, his wallet soon found as you open it, the package on one of his spaces as you take it from it. You throw it somewhere beside you as you immediately start to open the condom. He hands his base, aligning it for you as his other hand digs to your hips, pulling you to him, watching you take over, pressing up on the plastic before sliding it down his length.

He holds you firmly as you take his base instead, guiding his head to your entrance when you get your body up to receive him. You press him inside, feeling the delicious stretch, your body threatening to give up while you slowly sit down on him. You can see his breathing pace fastening, his chest rising and falling, but you're no different, your head going down, your foreheads getting together as you can feel each others breath. You finally bottoms out, your body relaxing while he takes your mouth on his for the first time today. It's all too much, a whine coming out on his lips when his tongue asks for space. The kiss airy and needy as you make out.

When you feel the neediness again, already adjusted to his size, you start rolling your hips, low moans coming from him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, feeling your walls pulsating around his cock. "Was this what you needed, hm? Was that all running on that head while I was talking?" He says, and you just moan, picking up your pace as if it was going to answer him. "The pretty heads, always the nastiest thoughts, isn't it?" But he isn't any different, he thinks. Those thoughts run just the same for him, too.

You are not answering in words but going faster on him. Until even this, It's not enough. Your hips going up just to sit back in. His head going back with a roll of his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock. His hands going back to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Stopped me just to use my cock as your little fuck toy... so unpolite" He speaks again and you groans.

Your palms fastening to press against his lips as he yelps, but you can see the smirk from his eyes. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" You spit out, your thrusts going faster, the skin slapping sounds starting to fill the room "I guess next time I should take my first plan of sitting on your face. At least then you can talk between my legs if that's something you want so much. How does that sound?" You get closer to say those words, your hand prettily silencing him as you stare at his watery glistening eyes. You can feel the way he twitches inside you and the muffled moans coming out. You know he loves it.

You suddenly calm down your pace, turning it into firm deep, slow thrusts. The heat and pleasure building up as you push yourself to the edge. Your walls hugging him tightly as he starts to feel his balls tightening too. "Cum for me, baby. Come on... make it worth it" You talk him through it, his knuckles white from gripping your ass so hard, leaving red marks of his big hands on it.

It comes at a surprise when he bites the skin of your palm, your hands jumping out of him as you yelp "Fuck, Seokmin! Are you crazy!?" You scream, your cheeks turning red. He hands you in place, starting to fuck you instead, thrusts meeting up your hips. You moan, your hands driving its way to his hair so you can tug on something.

"You should learn to behave and talk nicely" He grunts out, the throaty voice and drool over his lips doesn't go unnoticed. Heat collecting around your bodies, both of you getting close to cumming. "Someone has to teach you a really good lesson" He says lastly, his palm arriving to your skin with one loud hard slap on your ass cheek. The skin tingles, your body going stiff and mouth agape, like you stopped breathing for a second, before you finally let it go. Your body shaking as you cum with a breathy moan. Your pussy clenching nonstop as he cums with a loud gasp right after you. His load emptying on the condom.

Both of you rolling your hips messily trying to ride off your highs, until you're tired and giving up. The wetness is thick enough to make him slide out unintentionally as you both whine from the loss.

You sit back on his thighs, staring while he takes off the condom from his flacid length, tying it up with a knot. His balls and inner thighs glistening with your own juices as you hince at the sight, "I'm sorry..." You say it smally, but he smiles.

"It's ok... I love it" He replies, pulling you to him. And for a moment, you two just stay there, tangled up on each other before gathering corage to get up and clean up the mess.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

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