#this was really fun speaking as her voice

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

i just imagine mc loving driving sebastian up the wall by whispering things like I want you inside me or I want to taste you before walking away like nothing all day sebastian and his will power are holding on by a thread

One of Those Days | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

ahhhh anon thank you for this request I had sooo much fun torturing Seb while writing this. I hope you enjoy it too!!

Words: ~5,500

Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Seventh Year, Angst, Teasing, Longing, Established Relationship

Friday mornings always held a certain promise for Sebastian. The week’s end brought the light at the end of the tunnel: no more late-night study sessions, no looming deadlines, and—best of all—plans for the weekend. And this weekend was shaping up to be exceptional.

He was seated at the Slytherin table across from Ominis, who was currently buttering a piece of toast with his usual meticulous care. Sebastian leaned back, cradling his coffee, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you so smug this morning?” Ominis asked without looking up, his tone laced with suspicion.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s Friday. The weekend awaits. And tomorrow’s plans? Impeccable.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She got me tickets for the Puddlemere United match. Front row.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, still focused on his toast. “Ah, yes. Your doting girlfriend, endlessly spoiling you. Do remind me how the universe decided that you deserved her?”

“Still trying to figure that out myself,” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He grinned despite the jab. Ominis had been endlessly teasing him about your relationship since it had started over a year ago, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He still felt like he was getting away with something by having you in his life.

His gaze drifted to the Great Hall’s double doors for the third time in as many minutes. You were always late to breakfast—perpetually running behind in the morning.

“She’s late,” Ominis said flatly.

“She’s always late,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “You’d think by seventh year she’d have mastered the concept of time.”

“She must have overslept,” Ominis mused, as if it weren’t the obvious explanation. “Again.”

“She was up late,” Sebastian said defensively. “Studying."

“Is that what she told you?” Ominis asked, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. "Let's be honest, she was probably off fighting acromantulas in the forest again."

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted you slipping through the doors, looking every bit as radiant as he’d expected. His heart did its usual stupid flip at the sight of you.

You glanced around the room, spotting him instantly. That smile widened, and you started toward the Slytherin table.

“Speak of the devil,” Ominis huffed a laugh, though Sebastian barely heard him. His attention was fixed entirely on you as you approached.

“Morning, boys,” you greeted, slipping into the seat beside Sebastian as though you weren’t a solid twenty minutes late. “Miss me?”

Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against yours. “Always. Though I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Got caught up,” you replied breezily, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know how it is.”

Ominis sighed. “No, we don’t. Some of us value punctuality.”

You smirked at him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, I still manage to charm you both despite my flaws. A talent, really.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s charm so much as sheer persistence,” Ominis replied dryly, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could reply, Imelda Reyes appeared behind him, her usual air of impatience in full force.

“Ominis, did you finish the notes for Professor Binns’ essay?” she asked brusquely, tapping her foot as if she had somewhere more important to be.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Yes, Imelda. Not that I understand why you insist on taking history so seriously. You do realize it’s impossible to impress a ghost?”

As Ominis turned his attention to Imelda’s complaints, you leaned toward Sebastian, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing him as you spoke just low enough for him to hear.

“You know,” you murmured, “I had a dream about you last night.”

Sebastian froze, the casual sip of coffee he’d been mid-swig nearly going down the wrong pipe. He coughed, turning his head away to avoid choking outright. When he finally managed to compose himself, he looked at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“And what, exactly, was this dream about?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you picked up your teaspoon, delicately stirring your tea, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, you tilted your head, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Nothing appropriate for breakfast conversation,” you replied sweetly, dragging the edge of the spoon between your lips.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. He stared at you, a faint pink creeping up the back of his neck as you set the spoon down with an air of innocence. You went back to buttering your toast like you hadn’t just shattered his ability to think coherently.

“Everything all right, Sebastian?” Ominis asked, his attention back on him now that Imelda had left.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, biting into your toast to hide your grin. Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

You sipped your tea serenely, but Sebastian could feel the amusement radiating off you in waves. He knew that look. The playful light in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips—it was the look you always got when you were about to cause trouble. And Merlin, it was only breakfast, but you’d already decided to make this one of those days.

He sighed internally, doing some quick mental math.

It lined up. Of course, it did.

Three weeks ago, you’d asked him to come with you to the apothecary, dragging him along while explaining that you needed to restock ingredients for a potion you brewed monthly. He had listened with genuine interest, mostly because you had a knack for making even mundane things captivating. You’d laughed when he asked a few questions, calling him “endearingly clueless for someone so brilliant,” and gone on to share more details about how the potion worked to ease period pains. But now, as he connected the dots, realization dawned with the weight of inevitability.

You were ovulating.

Sebastian’s stomach did a little flip, and a faint, involuntary heat crept up his neck. That explained everything: your heightened playfulness, the way you leaned just a little closer, the way your teasing had an edge that sent sparks skittering down his spine. You were always a minx—bold, confident, and unrepentantly mischievous—but there was something about these days that tipped you from charming troublemaker to full-blown menace. And now that he’d caught on, he knew exactly what kind of day this was shaping up to be.

He was in trouble.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. You kept your hands to yourself, but every glance, every comment, you sent his way held that same spark. It was enough to make him want to tug you into an empty corridor and—

“Ready for class?” Your voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, cheerful as ever. You rose from your seat, brushing crumbs from your skirt as if you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes planting suggestive landmines in his brain. He swallowed hard and nodded, pushing his chair back to stand.

Ominis muttered something about Sebastian being unusually quiet, but Sebastian waved him off, claiming he was still waking up. A complete lie—he was wide awake now.

As the three of you made your way to Charms, Sebastian tried to steel himself. He knew better than to let you get under his skin this early in the day. If he gave in to your antics now, you’d win—and you loved to win.

The moment you slid into the seat beside him, he felt the familiar brush of your knee against his under the desk. He told himself it was unintentional until you shifted just enough to press against him more deliberately. His gaze flicked to you, but you were already pulling out your parchment, looking perfectly innocent.

When Professor Ronen began the lecture, Sebastian attempted to focus. It lasted all of five minutes before you leaned toward him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Your concentration is admirable, really,” you whispered, the soft warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His quill faltered mid-stroke, leaving a jagged mark across the parchment. He turned his head, intending to glare at you, but you were already sitting back, your expression unreadable as you scribbled down notes, head tilted in concentration, the very picture of academic diligence. But then he felt it—your hand, light as a feather, brushing against his thigh under the table. His breath hitched. You didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, your quill kept moving steadily across the parchment as though you hadn’t just set his pulse racing.

Your fingers rested there for a moment, almost as if testing the waters, before you began to trace slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of his trousers. Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he gripped his quill. He tried to will himself to focus, to block out the sensation, but you didn’t stop. In fact, you leaned slightly closer, your arm brushing his as you added a flourish to your notes.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Sebastian glanced at you sharply, his eyes narrowing in warning, but you didn’t look at him. The only sign of your mischief was the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips.

His hand twitched, tempted to grab yours and stop you before you pushed him any further, but he knew better. Drawing attention to what you were doing would only give you more satisfaction. So instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned slightly away, his voice a hushed growl. “Behave.”

You finally turned to him, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seb,” you said, your tone sticky sweet. “I’m just taking notes.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and Sebastian let out a slow exhale. You were relentless, and this was only the beginning. He shifted slightly in his seat, praying for the class to end quickly before he did something that would land both of you in detention.

But then your hand slid higher, and all thoughts of self-control vanished in a haze of heat and frustration.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he muttered, his voice strained. His hand moved under the desk to still yours.

You leaned in slightly, your lips close to his ear. “What’s the fun in that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his quill. He managed to hold on until Professor Ronen called for the end of class . You finally withdrew your hand, gathering your things with a pleased smile that only deepened the blush on his cheeks.

When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Sebastian had convinced himself that you’d already done your worst for the day. Charms had been a test of endurance, but surely you couldn’t keep it up through another class—especially not with Professor Hecat keeping a watchful eye.

You slid into the seat next to him without a word, a soft hum of a tune under your breath as you unpacked your things. Sebastian didn’t miss the glint of mischief still lingering in your eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

Professor Hecat began the lesson with her usual briskness, outlining the day’s activity: practicing defensive and offensive spells in pairs.

Sebastian exhaled in relief. Partner work meant he could focus on the task at hand, and spell practice was something he excelled at. He cast a sidelong glance at you, waiting for the inevitable quip about how you’d wipe the floor with him. But instead, you gave him an easy smile, looking far too composed for his comfort.

“Alright, partner,” you said, drawing your wand and stepping into position across from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebastian smirked, eager to reclaim some sense of control after the morning’s torment. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to make the first move.

You raised your wand, your posture flawless, but before casting, you paused. “It’s so warm in here,” you murmured, loosening your tie and pulling it free with a casual flick. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse, fanning yourself with your hand. “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian stiffened, his smirk vanishing. “I—what?”

You gave him a pointed look, as if waiting for an answer, before shrugging lightly. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

He barely had time to blink before you cast Expelliarmus, your wand aimed with precision. The spell hit him squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. You grinned triumphantly as you caught it midair.

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, your voice light and smug.

Sebastian huffed, running a hand through his hair to buy himself a moment. “Not bad,” he echoed, stepping closer. “Now, hand it over.”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance. Instead of returning his wand immediately, you held it up, forcing him to move closer. “Come and get it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, closing the distance between you. His pulse quickened the moment he got close enough to take in the details: the faint flush across your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, and—Merlin help him—the open collar of your blouse that gave him a perfect view of your collarbones and just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, and that maddening smirk was still firmly in place. You smelled like your usual perfume, that subtle scent that had been driving him to distraction all day, mixed with the faintest trace of parchment and ink.

Sebastian’s hand shot out to take his wand, but you pulled it back at the last second, your smirk widening. “What’s the matter? You look a bit tense.”

He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. The air between you crackled with tension, and he was certain you could hear the rapid thud of his heartbeat. He locked eyes with you, his voice low and rough. “I’m starting to think you want me tense.”

You shrugged. "Not sure what you're talking about."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He reached for his wand again, his fingers brushing against yours as he finally pried it from your grip. For a moment, his hand lingered over yours, his thumb skimming the back of it before he pulled away.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if you can disarm me.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, gripping his wand tighter. Focus, he told himself, though it was easier said than done with the way you were looking at him—like you were daring him to lose control.

“All right,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

He raised his wand, channeling every ounce of his frustration into the spell. Expelliarmus! The red jet of light shot toward you, and your wand flew from your hand, clattering to the floor behind you.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Well done,” you said, your tone dripping with mock defeat. “I suppose I’ll have to get that.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as you turned and bent over to retrieve your wand, taking your sweet time as you reached for it. His gaze betrayed him, trailing down the curve of your back to your hips and further still. The hem of your skirt rode up as you bent, barely covering what it was meant to, and leaving absolutely nothing to Sebastian's already frazzled imagination.

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with an effort that felt almost physical. Merlin, you were going to kill him. He could already feel the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and he prayed to every deity he could name that no one else was paying attention.

When you straightened and turned back to him, wand in hand, your smirk was firmly in place.

“Enjoy the view?” you asked, tilting your head as if the question were perfectly innocent.

Sebastian couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him as he stepped closer again, his voice a quiet warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

Your grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Is that a threat?”

For a split second, he considered saying something that would wipe that smirk off your face, but Professor Hecat’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Back to your positions!” she barked, her gaze darting between the two of you. “Focus, Mr. Sallow, Miss—”

“Yes, Professor,” Sebastian said quickly, stepping back and trying to calm his racing heart. But as he moved into position, he could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, and the image of your teasing smirk was seared into his mind.

He was barely holding it together, and the day was far from over. But surely, over lunch and surrounded by friends, he’d have some semblance of a reprieve. You wouldn’t dare push things in front of an audience—or so he hoped.

He slid into a seat beside Ominis, who was already stirring a bowl of soup to cool it off. Garreth and Natty sat across from them, deep in a lively debate about the Honeydukes confections.

Sebastian exhaled a small sigh of relief as you arrived a few moments later, seating yourself between Natty and Garreth across from him. You greeted everyone cheerfully, plucking a goblet of pumpkin juice from the table with your usual grace. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian thought he might actually survive the meal unscathed.

He was wrong.

You reached for the fruit platter in front of you, selecting a piece of pineapple and popping it into your mouth with a content hum. Sebastian caught himself watching the way your lips curled around your fingers, quickly tearing his gaze away as heat crept up his neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. You noticed, of course, and your eyes gleamed with mischief as you plucked another piece of pineapple, holding it up thoughtfully.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone far too casual, “do you eat pineapple often?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, not really. Why?”

You shrugged, biting into the pineapple and chewing slowly before answering. “Oh, it’s just something I read once. Supposedly, it makes… certain things taste better.”

The words hung in the air for a split second before their meaning hit him like a Stupefy spell. His jaw dropped, and he felt the heat in his cheeks spread like wildfire.

Garreth, who had been mid-sip of pumpkin juice, choked and started coughing, his face contorted with suppressed laughter. Natty’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth with her hand, a muffled giggle escaping. Even Ominis, usually the picture of composure, pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frozen, torn between mortification and the desperate urge to throttle you—or kiss you senseless. “You—” he spluttered, his voice low and strained. “You can’t just—why would you—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s just a question. I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Sebastian echoed, his voice a growl. His grip tightened on his goblet, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself, and went back to your meal as if nothing had happened. Garreth finally managed to stop coughing, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Sebastian, you’re as red as my tie.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at him before shooting you a dark look.

Ominis sighed again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Do the two of you ever give it a rest? Some of us are trying to eat in peace.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his plate. You, meanwhile, continued to eat with maddening grace, each bite more deliberate than the last. To anyone else, you seemed completely oblivious, but Sebastian knew better. The way your lips lingered on the edge of your goblet, how your tongue darted out to catch the stray drop of pumpkin juice, the slow way you licked your fingers after finishing a piece of fruit—it was all deliberate, and it was driving him insane.

When lunch finally ended, Sebastian practically leapt to his feet, eager to put some distance between you. But as the group began to disperse, you slipped up beside him, your hand brushing against his arm.

“What do you say we use our free period to get a head start on homework?” you suggested, your tone casual but your eyes sparkling with mischief. “The library’s quiet. Perfect for concentration.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Concentration, huh?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with faux innocence. “What else would we be doing?”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. The library it is.”

Sebastian trailed after you, already regretting his decision to agree to this “study session.” He wasn’t walking to his doom—not exactly—but it certainly felt like you were leading him into a trap he’d willingly sprung. Every step you took ahead of him, your hips swaying just enough to catch his attention, felt deliberate, and his patience was wearing thin.

When you reached the secluded table in the back of the library, you slid into a seat with a satisfied smile, glancing up at him as if daring him to sit across from you. Of course, he did—because, Merlin help him, no part of him could resist you, even when you were driving him out of his mind.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand, your voice laced with amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but quickly thought better of it, forcing himself to focus instead on pulling out his parchment and quill. He needed to get this essay done, fast—before you found another way to turn his brain to mush.

“Nothing,” he muttered, not looking up. “Let’s just work.”

You hummed in response, a light, teasing sound that sent a shiver down his spine. When he finally risked a glance at you, you were watching him with that knowing smirk, the one that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him—and you had no intention of stopping.

To your credit, the two of you did manage to work in relative silence for about an hour. It was a miracle, really, considering the way you had been tormenting him all day. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of pages filled the air, lulling Sebastian into a false sense of security. You even asked him a few legitimate questions about your arithmancy work, and he found himself easing into the rhythm of study.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

You tapped your quill against the edge of the table thoughtfully, drawing his attention as you tilted your head, a curious expression on your face. “Sebastian,” you said slowly, like you were turning something over in your mind.

He glanced up, cautiously optimistic that this might be a real question. “What?”

“If you cast Levioso on something heavy enough, do you think there’s a weight limit?”

Sebastian frowned, considering. “There’s a theoretical limit, I suppose. It depends on the skill of the caster and the strength of the enchantment. Why?”

You propped your chin in your hand as you gestured toward the sturdy oak table in front of you. “Can you cast it on objects to make them stronger, or is that a separate charm altogether?"

Sebastian blinked at you, trying to gauge where this was going. Your expression was innocent enough—curious, thoughtful—but he’d spent far too much time with you to let his guard down completely.

“That’s a separate charm,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Reinforcement charms can strengthen objects, but Levioso isn’t meant for that. It’s just levitation.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. “Makes sense,” you mused. “I was just thinking… these tables have probably been here for decades, maybe centuries."

Sebastian frowned, unsure where your train of thought was leading. “I suppose so. Why?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with a mischief he recognized all too well. “Oh, no reason,” you said lightly, waving a hand. “I was just wondering how much weight they could handle. You know, hypothetically.”

The room seemed to still as your words hung in the air, and Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His quill froze mid-scratch, and he stared at you, his mind racing to keep up.

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, his voice flat, though his pulse was anything but.

"You know," You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with an air of nonchalance that was completely at odds with the gleam in your eyes. "Like the weight of two people."

Sebastian stared at you, half-convinced he was hallucinating. You were far too composed for someone who had just casually suggested something so completely inappropriate in the middle of the bloody library, yet here you were, twirling your quill like the picture of innocence. He wanted to say something clever, something sharp that would throw you off your game, but his mind was stuck on one thing.

Two people. This table.

Sebastian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his quill, his patience dangling by a thread. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, and you noticed, of course. You always noticed. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, that faint smirk tugging at your lips—you were daring him to lose control, and you both knew it.

But Sebastian was stubborn, if nothing else. He forced his gaze back down to his parchment, his quill scratching out nonsense as he tried to focus on anything other than the absurdly inappropriate image you’d planted in his head.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, your tone as innocent as ever, “I've had enough of arithmancy for the day. What was the essay prompt again for potions? Something about brewing methods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The efficacy of different brewing techniques for enhancing potion potency.”

“Right,” you said, nodding thoughtfully, a contemplative look crossing your face. “Hm… I think I know a book that covers this. It talks about how it’s all in the measurements. Every little thing has to be just right. You’ve got to be so careful with how deep you’re going in, or… well, the whole thing can become quite explosive."

Sebastian’s quill snapped in half.

He froze, staring down at the broken pieces in his hands as if they might somehow offer an escape from this torment. But when he looked up, your smirk was waiting for him, smug and triumphant.

“Oops,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “Did I say something distracting?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling by the second. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he growled, his voice low and tense.

“Do I?” you replied, feigning innocence. But the glint in your eye betrayed you. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surely you'll get top marks on this essay... I think you know exactly how deep to go."

Sebastian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a heat that made your smirk falter for the first time all day.

“Outside. Now,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise, but the flicker of excitement in your expression didn’t escape him. You opened your mouth to say something—no doubt another teasing remark—but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he warned, cutting you off. “Just move.”

For once, you complied without argument, though the playful sway of your hips as you walked ahead of him made it clear you weren’t done yet.

Sebastian followed close behind as you weaved through the bookshelves, his chest tight with frustration and something far more dangerous. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally got you alone—but he knew he couldn’t take another second of this.

“You’ve been playing games all day,” he growled as you walked, his voice low and rough. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I’d just let it slide?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’ve been perfectly well-behaved.”

Sebastian grabbed your wrist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your jaw. “Well-behaved?” he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been driving me mad. Every look, every word, every touch—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before pinning you with a glare. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Without another word, he turned sharply, dragging you through the corridors at a pace that made it clear his patience had completely run out.

You didn’t protest, your steps falling into sync with his as he led you toward the one place he knew you’d have privacy: the Undercroft.

When you finally reached the hidden entrance, Sebastian didn’t even bother with his usual careful precision. He muttered the incantation quickly, his voice rough with impatience, and the hidden door swung open. He tugged you inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud that echoed in the quiet, secluded space.

The silence hung for a moment, broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths as Sebastian turned to face you. His gaze was dark, intense, and utterly consuming as he stepped closer, backing you up until your spine pressed against the cool stone wall.

“Do you think this is a joke?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with frustration and something far more primal. His hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

Your smirk returned. “I think you’re overreacting,” you replied, your tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. “All I did was—”

“All you did,” he interrupted sharply, his other hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “was make me spend the entire day trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You didn’t back down, even as his chest brushed yours. “I was just having fun."

“Fun?” Sebastian echoed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “You think driving me mad was fun?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “I think you like it."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to reach its breaking point. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a deceptively soft gesture that made your breath hitch. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “But don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to pay for every second of torture you put me through today.”

Your smirk widened, and you leaned up to brush your lips against his, your voice a teasing whisper against his mouth. “Promise?”

Sebastian’s answering smile was dark and full of intent as he guided you toward the sofa. “Oh, you have no idea.”

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 5 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. CHAP 5 IS HERE! i'm so sorry my loves i'm kind of a bot and didn't upload for 2 weeks....lol...anyways hi here it is wc. 9.1k

“what’s going on, y/n?”

you’re fighting tears as you look for words, but nothing but chopped stutters pass through your lips. you’re too stunned to speak, and you honestly can’t even comprehend what just happened. 

you had kissed billie. it was a complete mistake, but that was a comfort to no one. especially not you. 

“hello? i’m getting a little worried now.” 

your breath hitches as you stumble over your words, pressing the phone tighter to your ear as if the closeness could somehow keep you grounded. you finally spot the words out, “i messed up.”

“huh?” oliver clears his throat, “you…what? what happened? are you okay? 

you choke, your voice cracking under the weight of your panic as you sink into a bench, not far from where you started, “ollie i…i really, really messed up.”

“i’m lost. what’s going on?” he asks, his tone softening as he registers the distress in your voice. you can tell he’s a little worried too, and you didn’t mean to spread the fear to him, but it’s too late for that. 

“where are you? do you need me to come get you?”

you pause, glancing around the dimly lit street you’ve been pacing down since storming out of billie’s car. she’s gone now— she left a couple minutes ago, and part of you is upset that she just caved in on you that easily. but she probably has her own emotions to deal with, and she didn’t want to impose them on you, so she just ran. 

just like you did. 

your blood is practically hot with anger towards yourself, forwards her— any possible direction that you could aim your emotions at, you did. she knew that you were feeling confused, and you knew that you weren’t in the headspace to be making any decisions as rash as that one was. you were aching and empty inside, any sliver of sentiment you had poured itself out through your tears. 

you were so very lost. everything you stood for, and everything you were against, it all seemed like blurred lines now. you had to admit, though, you wanted to kiss her. and it didn’t feel wrong when you did it, but it really was the aftermath. 

the feeling of shame that washed over you when the kiss broke was almost unearthly. you felt like you had committed the ultimate sin, and you were sure there was no coming back from this. there was no compensation, no do-overs, just you, billie, and the thick feeling of regret hanging loosely in the air, dangling over your head. 

a little part of you wish you were still in her car, your lips smashed into hers, her hands roaming in your hair and your heart pumping out of your chest. but it was all an adrenaline rush, the fun in knowing that you’re doing something wrong, but it feels so right. but you didn’t live by what felt right, you lived by what was right.

by law, by an obligation— a duty to serve the one who put breath in your lungs, the very lungs that heaved and shook as you cried your heart out to oliver, no words being said. you were at a loss for them, there was nothing you could say or do or words to describe to convey a fourth of what you felt in the moment.  

billie was hurting, too, you were sure of it. all this time that you had spent innocently flirting, hanging out, confiding in her— it was all wasted now, and you were back to square one. she was confused, you kiss her and then you leave? what was she supposed to do with that?

but it wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t. you couldn’t allow yourself to be caught up in fleeting feelings and a stupid crush, you had bigger things to worry about, a faith to nurture and feed, friendships to grow, a degree to catch. you had a long life ahead of you, and success was at the center— and you were sure she couldn’t be a part of it.

oliver facetimes you when he doesn’t hear you answer through the phone. he needed to know you were at least alive, so when the phone connected, he returned back to his normal, calm state. he watched as you wiped your eyes and your hands shook over your open mouth, almost preparing to say something, but all that came out was broken sobs. 

“it’s okay,” he whispered, though he knew it wasn’t, but that was the best he could do. “i’m here. i’m ready when you are, take your time.” 

you sniffle harshly, your nose running as you try to take the deepest breath you can to steady yourself. you look around the parking lot— its dark now, empty, only a few cars parked at the rage room and a liquor store that’s two buildings down. 

your eyes squint at it, the blue fluorescent lights suddenly appealing to you. all you’ve ever had to drink was a glass of wine, and it was your last resort of them all, but it seemed like an idea that would keep your feelings at bay. 

so you get up, and you walk. 

you’re almost sure you’re not even conscious, because there’s no way you’d ever do this. ever. you’d never intentionally walk to any place that serves alcohol in the middle of the night, much less a store that sells it exclusively. 

but you really don’t have any other options. 

you could pray, but it seems foreign to you. it feels like God’s turned His back on you, like He’s asleep and you’re trying to jerk Him awake, but His listening is selective. it’s like you’re on the outside, like you’ve slipped out of His hands, and it killed you on the inside. 

you felt conflicted. tense, but loose internally. your mind was thinking of things you’d even begin to think of, ready to commit actions that even you weren’t all that prepared for. but you kept walking. 

it feels like forever until you finally reach the doors of the liquor store. your legs are worn, feet bruising, and the cut on your hand seems to pulse exponentially worse as time goes on. you wince, and oliver’s eyebrow raises through the phone. you honestly forgot he was on FaceTime due to his silence, but it seemed like he was just simply waiting for you to speak when you were ready. 

you shoved your phone into your pocket and approached the door, the fluorescent blue lights buzzing faintly as you pushed open the door open a small bell jingling overhead to make your presence known. the air inside is cool, tinged with the smell of alcohol and old wood. shelves of bottles line the walls, the glass catching the light in a way that makes everything feel hazy, like you’ve stepped into a foreign area.

and you had, truly. you’d never been a liquor store before, because usually, it’d never really interest you. but you were caught up, feeling things you had never felt before, and it was like you were acting before you could think. 

you hated that your curiosity was what pushed you through the door and up to the bar area, where your swollen eyes scanned different bottles that were stooped against the wall. you almost walk out, but you’re here now, so you might as well get something. 

the only alcohol you’ve ever had is a glass of wine at christmas back home when you turned 21. it was alright, but it wasn’t something you really planned on doing that often— or, to be frank, ever again. 

but it intrigued you. why was everyone else so happy and loose when they drank. forgetful, dainty, fearless? 

you wanted to feel like that too, right about now— you longed for it, you craved it. so you sucked it up, your normal way of going about things far in the back of your mind as your feet carry you to the front. a young woman stands there with a warm smile, with so many tattoos that there’s more ink than skin. she greets you, “hey there. you must be sunday school,” and then she snickers, “can i help you with anything?” 

the words hit you like a slap to the face, the nickname pulling you out of your mind fog for just a moment. your heart stumbles, your mind catching on the phrase— it’s something billie calls you all the time, usually with a teasing grin or a playful nudge. but this woman doesn’t know you— how could she possibly know that? 

but you’re so focused on getting rid of this thick, uncomfortable haze that clouds your head, so you shake it off, ignoring the knot forming in your stomach. 

“just… looking,” you mumble, glancing away as your cheeks heat with embarrassment, “um…”

the bartender snorts. “sure you are. well, take your time. let me know if you need anything.” 

it’s radio silence after that. 

you’re really conflicted, to say the least. everything about you had been so prim and proper, so sophisticated— this didn’t feel like the real you at all. or, so you thought. 

sometimes, late at night, when your only company was your own thoughts, you’d ponder about what it would be like to switch lives with someone. anyone at all— but your mind always drifted to your best friends. 

maybe you could switch with emma, your hair traded for her long, red curls that matched her fiery personality. she really didn’t have a care in the world— she was blunt, honest, kind but straight-forward. she was smart, but very flexible. she didn’t have a set schedule for anything, that wasn’t really emma’s style. and you envied that. 

deep down, she was your best friend, but you wished you could steal some of the things that she embodied and keep them as your own. you wished you could just let go and be who you really wanted to be, but that wasn’t what faith was about. that’s not what you were about. 

that came first, always. it wasn’t about what you desired, it was about unearthly things, about things that awaited you after you’d pass away. it was important to you, though sometimes, you felt like your true colors were dimmed out. diluted, watered down— but you had to keep composure. there was nothing you could do, because it was all you’d ever known, and it was all you’d ever be. 

or maybe you could be like naomi. her ability to express herself through her wild purple hair, her whimsical clothing, all her crazy piercings. she was carefree, but passionate and warm, and always had your back when you needed her to. 

and even jules. she was blunt, straight as an arrow, but her laugh was as warm as a california breeze. she was clean cut and undeniably beautiful, her long and silky black hair accenting her perfect and strong features. she was the epitome of beauty and class, yet she didn’t let anyone talk to her sideways. she stood up for what she believed in and never divvied from it. 

you shared that with her, kind of. it seemed like you had drifted away now, like you were falling and you couldn’t even catch yourself. 

“ma’am, are you going to order anything? or…”

you snap out of your thoughts and look back at the bartender, who’s impatiently tapping her nails against the hardwood countertops. you don’t know the first thing about alcohol, so you stupidly ask, “uhm…well, what’s good?” 

“depends,” she starts, leaning against the counter as her eyes darted to the back of her head to gesture towards the cases behind her, “vodka if you wanna get drunk. tastes a little like hand sanitizer, but it isn’t all that bad. it’ll be the easiest on you, i take it that you don’t do this whole drinking thing— so that’s the best start. just burns a little, but you’ll be alright.”

you hum to yourself. 

“uh… okay,” you mumble out, glancing uneasily at the rows of bottles behind her. they’re all bright labels and sharp shapes, promising you a world you’ve never stepped foot in. promising relaxation for your nerves, but all of this just seems intimidating. but you really can’t back out now— you’re here already, and you’d do just about anything to quiet your swirling mind. so you just nod, “alright.. i’ll take that, then. vodka.” you nod. 

the bartender smirks, a little too knowingly, and it makes you feel queasy.

“so, i figured you’d be a lightweight,” she mutters under her breath, pulling a clear, large bottle from the shelf and setting it on the counter, “you want it straight or mixed? might be easier on you if it’s mixed.”

“mixed, i guess?” you say, your voice unsure. you don’t even know what mixed means— you just don’t want to look like you don’t belong here. which, clearly, you don’t, but if you convince yourself enough, it’ll make you feel a little better. 

“you ever drink before?” she asks, grabbing a shaker and some other bottles, pouring them together without even looking at what she’s doing, she’s really just looking at you. 

she’s very pretty, and it doesn’t add to your nervousness, or the already disgusting feeling that you have practically glued to you. you’re trying so hard to forget about the kiss, but it’s just wreaking havoc on your brain. and all of a sudden, it’s like you were opened up to a whole new world— one that you didn’t necessarily feel all that comfortable in. but at the same time, it kept you reeled in, like you needed to figure out what all of this was. 

but you couldn’t. you had to stand firm. you had things to do, and priorities that couldn’t falter. billie could not and would not be a part of them in any circumstance. you just had to mask it all, slip this underneath the carpet and pretend it had never happened. 

“uh, sometimes,” you lie, but it sounds weak even to your own ears. you just didn’t want to seem like you didn’t belong. even though, deep down, you didn’t. 

or did you? 

the bartender gives you a look, one eyebrow raised, like she knows you’re full of shit. but she doesn’t call you out on it.

“if you say so,” she says, sliding the glass of vodka toward you, “here. start with this. it’s on the house, just for the entertainment purposes.” 

you take the glass hesitantly, the cold condensation chilling your fingers as they curl around it, your rings clanking against it, “thanks.” 

binging it to your lips, you take a swig, and your face immediately contorts sourly as you slam the glass back onto the counter. the first sip is sharp, burning, and you barely stop yourself from coughing as it slides down your throat.

the bartender watches you with a grin, “yeah, i thought so. don’t worry, kid— you’ll get used to it.”

you’re about to respond— though you don’t even know what you’d say— when movement in the corner of the room catches your eye. at first, you think it’s just another customer, roaming around somewhere, but then you see her.

billie. 

of course she’s here, by just your luck. she’s sitting at a small table near the back, a bottle of beer in one hand and her phone in the other. her head is down, her hair falling in loose waves around her face, but there’s no mistaking her. you know it’s her. you can feel it. 

your chest tightens, a mix of anger and something you can’t quite name bubbling up inside you. without thinking, you turn on your heel and march toward her, your footsteps heavy against the worn wooden floor.

“oh, hell no.” you hear her mutter as she stands up, her glass forgotten on the table. you can tell just by the way that she’s moving that she’s drunk, and for a second, you’re taken back to that night at the diner. heat is so prominent in your face that you feel like your head will blow off— and in moments, she’s in front of you, her expression a foreign mix of confusion and irritation.

“what the hell are you doing here?” billie asks you, her voice low but tense. 

you straighten up, trying to match her energy, but it’s hard when your nerves are shot, and you’re holding a drink you don’t even want. 

“none of your business,” you reply, but it comes out shakier than you intended, as always. 

“none of my—?” she cuts herself off, running a hand through her dark hair, clearly trying to keep her cool, “you don’t even drink, y/n. what the fuck are you doing in a place like this?”

“i don’t owe you an explanation,” you snap, the words coming out harsher than you expect, but it’s exactly what you wanted. it was exactly what you needed. 

she leans closer to you, though it doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose, her eyes narrowing, “you don’t, huh? after storming off and leaving me to wonder if you even were okay? you don’t think i deserve a little bit of an explanation for that shit?” 

“billie, i—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“no, you listen to me,” she says, her voice rising slightly at you, “you can’t just kiss me, run off like i’m some kind of mistake, and then show up here pretending like nothing happened.”

“billie…”

“i wish you’d stop acting like this, like you’re too scared to feel something, to be something, and just— i mean, y/n—”

“please, stop it—“ 

“really, why would you lead me on like this if you didn’t want me? why would you go out with me if—“

“billie, would you just shut the fuck up!” 

the words burst out of you before you can stop them, loud and sharp, and the entire room seems to go silent for a moment. you freeze, the weight of what you just said hitting you all at once, and your hands immediately slap over your mouth, terrified. you’ve never sworn like that before— never sworn at all, really, and now it’s hanging in the air between you and billie, heavy and suffocating.

her eyes widen in shock, and for a second, neither of you say anything. then, slowly, her lips curve into a small, incredulous smile, and it makes the anger in you only bubble worse. 

“wow,” she says softly, “didn’t know you had that in you.”

your jaw clenches as your hands drop from your mouth, your fingers curling into fists at your sides, “don’t start, billie. just don’t.”

she tilts her head, that stupid smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. it’s like she’s enjoying this, like watching you unravel is some kind of personal victory for her.

“what? i’m just saying, sunday school, you’re full of surprises tonight.”

“enough with the nicknames,” you snap, your voice shaking, but you don’t really care anymore. the dam has broken, and all the emotions you’ve been holding back are pouring out, spilling everywhere, and it’s pointless to try and keep it together when everything is seemingly falling apart, “you don’t get to call me that, billie. not after everything. gosh, i wish you would just leave me alone.” 

billie’s expression shifts, her smile dropping almost immediately. she cocks her head to the side, “after everything? what does that even mean?”

“it means you don’t know me. not really,” you say, your voice rising. at this point, the bartender and the other three people in the bar are all looking at you, but you pay them no mind. you needed to get this out.

“and the problem with you is that you think you do, but you don’t. at all. you just push me and push me, and you never stop to think about what i might be going through. you just… assume I’ll be okay with whatever you want. well i’m not. i don’t want you to know me, i don’t want you to ask if i’m okay, but god— most important of all,” you lower your head, your words slow and deliberate, “i don’t want you.” 

her brows knit together, and she steps closer, her voice dropping. she looks like she could almost cry, but that’s honestly the least of your worries right now. you were so infuriated at her, and the tears that slipped down her reddened cheeks didn’t even phase you. you had other things to worry about. 

“t-that’s not fair,” billie finally speaks, her voice cracking underneath the weight of this heated argument, and for a split second, you almost feel bad. “you don’t let anyone in. h-how am i supposed to know what you’re going through if you don’t talk to me?”

you take a deep breath, trying to contain yourself, “because it’s not your job to fix me, billie. i don’t need you to swoop in and save me all the time. maybe i just need space— have you ever thought about that? huh? have you?” 

she flinches like you’ve struck her, and for a moment, guilt twists in your stomach. but then she straightens, her jaw tightening as she meets your gaze, finally looking up from the floor.

“okay,” she says, her voice cold now, all the warmth vanishing as she shrugs gently, “if that’s what you want. i won’t speak to you ever again.” 

“good,” you snap, though the word tastes bitter in your mouth, and you almost regret it. 

was this really what you wanted? your heart was racing at the words, the reality sinking in. she wasn’t going to ever talk to you again— but that’s what you had begged her for, and now that she’s giving it to you, it’s almost like you had changed your mind. but it was too late for that. 

billie stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. and then, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away from you, leaving you standing there, idle, your anger dissipating as quickly as it came, replaced by an ache that settles deep in your chest.

you watch her go, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you like a weighted blanket. your shoulders slump, and for a moment, you think about calling after her, about saying something to fix this, but the words won’t come. your stomach feels sick and your head is hot, and you’re sure that you’re sinking into the floor as you hear the bells above the shop jingle, billie’s silhouette disappearing into the night. 

with tears brimming your eyes, you turn back to the counter, your hands trembling as you pick up your abandoned drink. the bartender glances at you, her expression a mix of curiosity and pity, but she doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you with an apologetic expression, her lips pursed as she tries to hold back from asking questions. 

you take a shaky breath and lift the glass of vodka to your lips, the burn of the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in your chest. you don’t know what you were expecting to find here tonight, but whatever it was, it feels further away than ever now.

the bartender finally speaks. “i’m so sorry, girl.” 

“it’s fine,” you mutter out, your nails scraping against your glass, your other hand busy picking at your lips. you’re engrossed in your own thoughts and the silence that consumes you, when you feel your phone vibrate. 

oliver. 

you had completely forgotten that he was on the other line, and you fish your phone out of your pocket hurriedly, your eyes being met with multiple texts and calls that you had missed from him. 

ollie: dude are you okay ??? i’m coming to get u now. 

ollie: my phone died so i didn’t hear everything but im omw. stay put. 

your chest tightens as you stare down at your phone, guilt gnawing at the edges of your already frayed nerves. you didn’t mean to worry him like that— but you can’t focus on that right now. or really, anything at all. 

all you can do is type out a quick response, your fingers trembling as they dance across the screen. you reassure him that you’re fine, and for him to do his best to get here quickly, because you were sure you were absolutely losing it. 

you look at the time, and it’s somehow already a little past midnight. your body is exhausted and your mind is racing in so many different areas, and you honestly just want to go home. 

you lock your phone and slide it back into your pocket, your hands still shaking as you cradle the empty glass in front of you. you slam it against the counter, “another.” 

“honey, i think—“

“just give me the alcohol.” you speak slowly yet sternly, and the bartender just nods, refilling your glass with straight vodka this time. you immediately drink it, the burn of it sitting heavy in your stomach, but it doesn’t do anything to warm you up, to fill the cold, hollow ache that’s settled deep in your chest.

you take another shot. and then two more, and you start to lose count. you felt trapped in your own mind, and usually, you weren’t really all that bothered by it. but after the kiss, after the blow-up in front of everyone, you were thinking and acting irrationally. you were absolutely over it— whatever consequences that were to come, you would deal with them later. but your thoughts only became louder and louder, swarming your conscience, and you would do pretty much anything to get them to disappear right about now. 

the bartender eventually refuses to serve you more shots. you’re much past tipsy now— and she can tell by the way a slow, warm grin crawls itself onto your face, and you smush your head into your hands, giggling. your skin is tingly and warm, and it’s foreign to you, but you like it. you can only think of one thing, and it’s how good you feel, and you want to wrap yourself in it and never let go. 

the bartender doesn’t push you any further about what happened, or how you’re feeling— she just nods and moves down the counter to give you space. the silence is deafening, broken only by the low hum of the bar’s music and the occasional clink of glasses. you stare down at your half-full drink, your reflection distorted in the clear liquid, and for a moment, you wonder if this is what absolute rock bottom feels like.

the sound of the bells above the door jingling pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up slowly, your nerves and slurred body movements not really allowing you to move much faster. your breath catches in your throat when you see him— oliver, standing in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his chest heaving like he ran all the way here. his eyes scan the room quickly, landing on you, and you see the relief wash over his face as he strides toward you.

“Jesus, dude, you scared me. what the hell happened?” he asks as soon as he reaches you, his voice low but urgent.

you open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head as your eyes well up with tears again. you break in front of him, your facade faltering, and you just press your head into your palms as your body shivers with your cries. 

“oh…hey, it’s okay,” oliver says quickly, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your arm. he gives it a small, gentle squeeze, “let’s get out of here, yeah? come on. i’ll take you home.” 

you nod silently, letting him guide you off the barstool and out of the building. the night air hits you like a slap to the face, cold and sharp, and you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself as you follow oliver to his car.

the ride is quiet at first, the tension thick in the small space of his black mini cooper. oliver glances at you every now and then, his knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say much. he’s waiting for you to speak, waiting for you to tell him what’s going on.

“i-i messed up,” you finally whisper, your voice cracking as you slump into the back seat, stretching out your limbs and resting your head against the window, “i messed up so bad, ollie.”

he doesn’t respond right away, just flicks his eyes toward you through the rear view mirror before focusing back on the road. 

“okay,” he says slowly, but you can tell he’s worried for what you’re about to tell him, “let’s start with what happened. whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. but you gotta tell me, okay? because i’m not gonna lie, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” 

you take a shaky breath, your fingers twisting in your lap as you try to find the words. your mind feels like it’s moving backwards, in slow motion, and you swear that you’re talking, but only your lips move. you rest a hand over your forehead, trying to force sound to come out, “i-i…kissed her.” 

“billie?” he asks, surprised, and you nod, your cheeks burning with shame.

“it just… it just happened,” you continue, the words spilling out of you now. people had always talked about having drunk confessions, and well, here was yours. 

“a-and then… we fought, and i s-said things— awful things, things i didn’t mean, but they just came out. and now she’s gone, and i-i don’t even know if we can fix this. i don’t know if i want to fix this.”

oliver is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in thought. his voice is slightly shaky now, and it’s obvious that he’s really worried about you. he peeks at you through the rear view again, “so… you kissed her— but then what? she got mad? or you got mad?” 

“both,” you say, your voice loud, though you meant to say that way quieter than you actually did, and then all the confessions come, “i was sad, r-really sad, and you guys…you guys always talk about how drinking makes you…i don’t know, n-not sad? so i took like— i can’t remember, six shots? and now i’m drunk. and me and billie got into an argument a-and i…i told her i didn’t want her. at all. i’m such an idiot.” 

oliver gasps, ready to say something, but you cut him off with your own words, “ollie…i don’t think i can do this anymore. i’m sick, i’m messed up…i-i’m not this perfect little angel that everyone thinks i am. i’m horrible and messy and…i just, i can’t anymore. really.” 

you feel oliver slam on the brakes, the car jerking slightly as he pulls over to the side of the road. the sudden stop shocks you out of your rambling, your chest heaving as you realize how out of control your words had become. your stomach felt like it was still in the other lane as you felt oliver park next to the street, and you cover your mouth, letting out an unprompted gag. 

oliver immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you, his eyes wide with concern, his hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“y/n. hey,” he says, his voice firm but still soft enough to remind you that it’s him, that you’re gonna be okay, “breathe. just breathe. it’s alright, you’re safe.”

you nod shakily, trying to pull in a deep breath, but it catches in your throat. your chest feels too tight, like there’s a rubber band around it pulling tighter and tighter with every second. you feel like you’re on the verge of snapping, so you keep quiet. your eyes slowly closing. 

“look at me,” he says, his voice steady, and you do. his eyes are locked on yours, grounding you, “you’re not horrible, okay? you’re not messy, you’re not broken, and you’re definitely not some perfect angel. you’re you, and that’s enough. it’s always been enough.”

you let out a choked laugh, shaking your head as tears spill over your cheeks. you wipe your nose, “no, but you don’t get it, ollie. you don’t know what it’s like to… to feel like you’re drowning all the time. to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never enough. for anyone. not even for me.” 

“i don’t know what that’s like?” he repeats, his voice raising slightly as he leans over the armrest, leaning further into you as your eyes hover over him, “you think i don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough? like you’re just… just barely holding it together for everyone else’s sake? because i do. believe me, i do. i just…i don’t talk about it.” 

you blink at him, startled. he rarely lets this side of himself show, the side that’s as vulnerable as you feel right now. you whisper, “w-what do you mean?” 

“i’ve had my fair share of…bad religious experiences,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly. he really never opens up to anyone, but the timing seemed appropriate, and you didn’t really mind. 

“when i came out to my parents, it took them forever to be accepting. i wasn’t welcomed in my church anymore— though i believed, and i still do. but you don’t see me running away or… or drinking myself sick. because while it feels good, it doesn’t fix anything. it just makes it worse. and seeing you like this? it kills me, okay? because you’re not supposed to go through this alone. it hurts us when you isolate yourself.” 

“but i feel so alone,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you finally sit up in the seat, your head whirring, “even when you’re here, even when billie’s here, i feel alone. like no one really gets me. not even…not even God.”

oliver’s face softens, and he reaches out to take your hand in his, his grip warm and steady as you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, “yeah, i know it feels like that. like He’s not there, like no one is. and i love you, so don’t take this the wrong way— but you’re wrong. you’ve got people who adore you, who want to help you. i want to help you. but you’ve got to let me in, okay? you’ve got to stop shutting me out. out of all of us, i think i’m the one who won’t bully you sick about this.” 

you both giggle softly, and his words sink in slowly, the weight of them pressing against your chest in a way that feels almost comforting. you nod, barely able to meet his eyes as you release your hand from his embrace, playing with your rings, “but i don’t know how.” 

“you just start,” he says simply, shrugging like it was nothing, “you tell me when you’re sad. you tell me when you feel like you’re drowning. and then, you let me help you keep your head above water. that’s what i’m here for, okay? that’s what i want to do. because you’re my best friend.” 

his sincerity is overwhelming, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. it’s small, fragile, but it’s there. 

“okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “okay, ollie. but i…i need you to do something for me.” 

he nods at you fervently, “yeah, anything. anything at all.” 

“i need you to help me get away from her,” you say, your voice steadier now, but still tinged with desperation, “i need you to… i need you to fake date me.”

there’s an excruciatingly long pause, this one heavier than any of the last. when oliver finally speaks, there’s a note of disbelief in his voice. he cocks his head to the side and gives you wide eyes, “hold on, you want me to what?”

“just for a little while,” you plead, your words tumbling out in a rush, “i need her to think i’ve moved on or— or that i’m not interested or something. i just need to put some space between us, and this…this is the only way i can think to do it. i just need her to leave me alone. please. while i figure things out.” 

“y/n,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to piece together the logic behind your plan, though you can tell by the look on his face that he thinks it’s stupid. “are you sure this is the best way to handle this? i mean, fake dating me? that’s… kind of extreme. and honestly, batshit crazy.” 

you shake your head at him. you’ll pretty much do anything to get away from billie right now, and this seemed like the only option. you’d much rather do this with oliver, someone you know and trust, rather than some random, icky dude in one of your classes. 

“i don’t have any other options, oliver, please. i just need you to do this for me. just for a little while. you’re the only person i can trust to help me with this.”

he sighs, and you can tell that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he’ll roll with it just to help you out. he takes a good look at you, weighing your request. and finally, he speaks up, “a-all right. i’ll do it.” 

relief washes over you as you sit up even straighter, a lazy grin on your face as you nod at him.

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with gratitude, “thank you so much.”

“yeah yeah, whatever.” he laughs gently, but his tone firm, “but— you’re going to have to tell me everything. the whole story. no leaving anything out. you need to at least tell me what’s going on if i’m going to be your new boyfriend.” 

you nod, “okay, yeah. um…i’ll tell you everything.”

“good,” he says, and then you start. 

well, you try to. but the car is too quiet, the only sound that’s audible is the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of oliver shifting in his seat. you sit there, staring out the window as cars flash by, headlights and flashing colors streaking the glass like a kaleidoscope. everything outside feels distant, unreal, like you’re a side character in your own movie. 

“you good?” oliver’s voice breaks through the silence, soft but firm. it’s not the first time he’s asked, but this time, there’s something heavier in his tone. you can tell he’s a little worried, and you really don’t want to stress him out, so you nod, though it’s everything but true. 

you shift uncomfortably, your hands twisting in your lap. you’re not good. you don’t even know what you are right now. all you know is that your chest feels tight, and the words sitting on your tongue are heavy, weighted down by years of fear and uncertainty.

“i told you what happened,” you mumble out, “why do you keep asking?”

“because i don’t think you’ve told me everything,” he says, glancing at you, “i mean, yeah, you told me about billie and the fight, but… there’s more, isn’t there? you wouldn’t be this upset if there wasn’t. so, let me hear it.” 

you swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to push the lump down. he’s right— of course, he’s right. oliver always sees through you, always knows when you’re holding back. you don’t know why you thought you could avoid this. 

“ollie,” you start, your voice trembling. you pause, unsure if you can even do this, but then his gaze flicks to you again, patient and steady, and it’s enough to nudge you forward, “i need to tell you something. something… kind of big.”

he straightens a little in his seat, his brows furrowing in concern. he’s kind of scared, because based off of the events of tonight, he has no idea what you would have in store. but he just nods, trying to keep enough cool for the two of you, “okay. i’m listening.”

your hands are shaking now, and you clasp them tightly together, trying to keep yourself steady. you take a deep breath, “okay…um…i’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time, and honestly, i’ve been scared to say it out loud. so…um…i’m—?”

he doesn’t say anything, just waits, his expression soft but focused. he’s looking at you like he’s ready to hear what’s next, and you swallow thickly, looking out the window, and then at your hands. 

“i-i’m a lesbian, oliver.”

it goes awkwardly quiet. for a moment, the only sound is your own breathing, shaky and uneven, as the weight of your confession hangs in the air. you kind of feel like you shouldn’t have said it, but it’s too late— so you just wait impatiently for him to speak. 

“oh,” oliver says finally, his voice quiet, like he’s processing. and then, a little louder, “oh. well, okay.”

you glance at him, your stomach twisting with anxiety. what the hell did he mean ‘well, okay?’ was this a bad idea? should you have kept it quiet? 

“ollie…w-what? just okay?”

“yeah,” he says, and there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth now. he leans up against the arm rest to get a good look at you, “okay. i mean, what do you want me to say? ‘oh shit, i never knew!’ like, it’s not like this changes how i feel about you or anything. you’re still you, y/n.”

his words hit you like a wave, but you can’t help but offer up a hearty laugh, even though there are tears streaming down your heated face. oliver disregards your laughter, though— he’s more worried about your ever flowing tears that haven’t seemed to fade since he picked you up. 

“hey, hey,” oliver says quickly, his hands hovering awkwardly like he wants to comfort you but he doesn’t know how, “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you manage to get out between shaky breaths, “i just… i’ve been so scared to tell anyone. i thought maybe you’d… i don’t know, look at me differently or something. i don’t even know why i thought that, considering— yeah. but…”

“girl,” he interrupts gently, laughter laced in his tone, “i really don’t care who you like. as long as they’re treating you good, that isn’t my concern at all. you’re still my best friend, and that’s never gonna change. you hear me?”

you nod, sniffling as you wipe at your face. “yeah. i hear you.”

he smiles, soft and reassuring. “good. now, is there anything else you need to get off your chest? because i’m already pulled over, so we might as well make this a full therapy session.” 

you laugh weakly, the sound broken but genuine, and shake your head, “no, that’s… that’s it for now. promise.” 

“all right,” oliver says, “so, let’s get you home, yeah? you’ve had a long night.”

you nod at him, returning to the refuge of your comfy spot in the backseat, your limbs stretched out and weary as you steady your breathing. 

as he pulls back onto the road, you lean back in your seat, the weight on your chest a little lighter now. for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, like everything is setting in stone. 

୨ৎ

by the time you get home, the weight of the night feels like it’s pressing into your bones, leaving you heavy and raw. you sit up on your seat as oliver wakes you, rubbing your eyes gently, “home?”

“yeah, c’mon.” he states, grabbing your bag for you and opening your door as you step into the night. it’s cold outside, and you wrap your jacket tighter around you, facing oliver and reaching out to take your bag, “thank you for taking me home. and…for everything. you didn’t have to do that.”

“no, but i wanted to,” he gives you a warm smile, “you can always talk to me. always.”

you nod as he hands you your bag, and you sling it over your shoulder as you start to walk back to your dorm. you expect to go alone, but oliver follows, insisting on walking you to your door. and you’re too drained to argue, so you let him, your legs feeling wobbly as you climb the steps to your room, his hand hovering behind your back like a safety net.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, for what feels like the tenth time, but you know that he’s being sincere. 

you pause with your key halfway to the lock, turning to look at him. his eyes are wide and concerned, and you can see the way he’s itching to say more, to fix something. you give him a tired smile, “i’ll be fine, ollie. seriously. i just need to sleep this off, for real.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway, “if you insist. if you need anything— like, anything at all— just call me, okay? no matter what time, you know i’ll be up.”

“okay,” you promise, though you know you probably won’t. you weren’t exactly fond of the idea of using oliver as your night-time therapist, although he swore up and down it was okay. you just nod with a lazy smile, waiting for him to bid you goodbye.

he hesitates for a moment longer before finally stepping back, “well, goodnight, y/n. i love you, if you need something, just holler. and… hey, you’re brave as hell, you know that?”

he pulls you into a gentle hug before he goes, giving you a small kiss to your forehead. it’s got no romantic context behind it— oliver had always been the type to be affectionate towards you when you were down, or vulnerable. plus, he laughs afterward, and you know it’s because of your whole ‘fake dating’ ordeal, which makes you laugh, too. 

you watch as he leaves, making sure that he gets to his car safe. and when he waves at you and speeds off, you twist the doorknob into your dorm, stepping inside.

it’s is dark when you enter, save for the faint glow of a lamp in the living room and emma’s bedroom’s light that shines underneath her closed door. sometimes, she’d forget to turn it off before she fell asleep, so you figured that’s why it was on. 

you shut the door softly behind you, your bag slipping off your shoulder and landing on the floor with a dull thud. the silence feels different— heavy, almost suffocating, but you push it aside, determined to jump into your bed and finally go to sleep. 

“so, you’re back.” a voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and pointed.

you freeze, your breath catching as you turn to see emma standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

so she wasn’t in her bedroom. or, asleep.

her arms are crossed over her chest, her red hair pulled into a messy bun, and she’s clad in one of your victoria’s secret sweatshirts and a pair of red sleeping shorts. her expression is unreadable— somewhere between anger and concern, and you really hope it’s the second one.

“emma,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper, but she cuts you off almost immediately.

“do you have any idea how worried i was?” she snaps, stepping closer, “you didn’t answer my texts, my calls— nothing. and then— this shit is what blew me— oliver calls me, telling me you’re drunk at some bar? what the hell, y/n?”

your stomach twists with guilt, and you look down at your feet. “i’m sorry,” is all you can mumble. you’re honestly too tired and too drunk to deal with emma’s shenanigans tonight.

“sorry?” she repeats, her voice rising. her arms are flailing everywhere, her curly hair bouncing, and it’s clear that she’s more angry than you thought, “that’s all you have to say? you disappear for hours, get drunk off your ass, and pick a fight with billie— yeah, oliver told me about that part too— and all you can say is sorry?”

“i didn’t mean for it to get that bad,” you say, your voice cracking, “i just… i don’t know, okay? everything’s been so overwhelming, and i—”

“and you what?” she interrupts, her eyes narrowing, “decided to self-destruct instead of talking to me? i’m your best friend, y/n. you’re supposed to come to me when you’re struggling, not push me away.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and tears spring to your eyes before you can stop them. you were sick of crying— it’s like that’s all you’ve doing recently, but you can’t stop it. 

“emma, you were the one that was being distant from me, so i just gave you space. i didn’t know how to tell you, okay?” you cry, your voice shattering, “i didn’t know how to tell you that i’m falling apart, that i feel like i’m losing myself. i didn’t know how to tell you that i kissed billie and freaked out because… because—”

you choke on the words, your chest heaving as the tears spill over. emma’s expression softens instantly, the anger draining from her face as she steps closer. when she sees you break, it’s like she can’t even be mad at you anymore, and she rushes over to you, grabbing your shoulders softly.

“hey, hey,” she says gently, “it’s okay. you don’t have to say it all right now. just… breathe, okay? i’m sorry that i was angry with you. i understand…i was just worried. but i’m here.”

you nod shakily, trying to get your breathing under control. emma guides you to the couch, sitting beside you and waiting patiently as you wipe at your face with trembling hands.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper again, your voice small.

“stop apologizing,” she says, shaking her head at you, “i’m not mad anymore. i just… i want to understand what’s going on with you.”

you hesitate, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweater. “i told oliver tonight…that i’m….”

“you are?”

you breathe in. you weren’t really expecting to tell emma this soon— you honestly didn’t mean to tell oliver either, but you were here now, and you might as well tell your own best friend this secret that was haunting you. 

“i’m…” you huff, looking down at your hands, “i’m a lesbian, em.”

emma doesn’t react right away, just tilts her head slightly as she processes your words, resting her chin into her hands as she looks at you with sweet, sparkling eyes, “okay,” she says slowly, “and… how do you feel about that? about saying it out loud? i mean— really, y/n, this is not a surprise, i think you know that.”

you laugh, “yeah. but…just thought i should let you know what’s going on with me.”

“uh huh,” she hums, a smile glued to her face, “i’m proud of you. this is a big step, honey! so tell me, how are you feeling?”

“scared,” you admit, giggling softly, “but also… relieved, in a way? like I’m finally being honest with myself. but it’s complicated. billie— she made me feel things i didn’t know how to handle, and then everything spiraled, and i just…i liked her. i’ll admit it, but— i-i can’t. i have too much to deal with, and i’m still not really all that comfortable with what i’m feeling. but it’s too late, so whatever…”

emma reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly, “babe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight. it’s okay to take your time. but you’re not alone in this, okay? i’m here, and so is oliver. we’ve got you. just, focus on what you need to focus on. see what happens— but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. you’re smart, and i guarantee you that you’ll figure this thing out, alright?”

emma’s words are a balm to your aching heart, and you nod, leaning into her shoulder as exhaustion starts to take over. she pulls you tighter into her side, giving you a light squeeze as you both sit there for a second, basking in comfortable silence.

“thanks, em,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering shut.

“always,” she whispers, running a hand gently over your hair, “have you told jules and naomi yet?”

you shake your head gently, still resting on emma’s shoulder, “nope. i haven’t really talked with them all that much, but it’ll come when it comes. i don’t really feel like dealing with all this at the moment. i’m just trying to make sure of my own feelings, first. y’know?”

emma takes a deep breath, nodding at your words, but she doesn’t say anything, which you appreciate. she could tell that all you needed was a little acknowledgement, and your heart smiles at that. 

after a few more minutes of talking, you find yourself in your room, slipped underneath the covers as emma laid next to you, scrolling on her phone. now that you were home, she insisted that she keep you company until you sleep, just incase you needed to talk. 

you hadn’t told her about the fake dating with oliver, but it seemed irrelevant right now, so you’d just save it for later. 

you spend your last waking moments thinking. you felt warm at first, finally getting everything out into the air, but now you felt like you were swarming with guilt. was this what God wanted? was He frowning down at you, disappointed and confused?

but you couldn’t think about that right now, or you’d start to downward spiral again. so you just squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to finally rest.

and then, just as sleep is about to fully claim you, your phone buzzes on the coffee table, the sound jarring in the stillness. emma reaches for it, frowning as she glances at the screen.

“y/n,” she says, her voice tense.

you force your eyes open, groggy and confused, “huh? what is it?”

she holds the phone out to you, and your stomach drops when you see the name flashing across the screen.

it’s billie.

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[oceandelreysworld]

Loving injuries pt.2

So so sorry ts look so long to make pt 2, but here it is!

_______________________________________

"Okay, just be gentle..?" You look at her with puppy eyes, not realizing what you were doing.

"Of course, princess, always." All Vi could think about is pulling your face close to hers to kiss you...

The eye contact between the two of you stayed like that for a moment. Vi is still holding your hand. You could feel the heating tension before Vi shook her head, focusing on what she needed to do again.

As Vi grabs the alcohol back up, she lets go of your hand to grab a cotton ball. You both felt that warmth turn into coldness.

You were a little disappointed, bringing you back to reality on what she was about to do.

She poors a small portion of the alcohol on the cotton, slowly coming closer to your side.

"You ready, pretty girl?"

You froze up but nodded your head hesitantly.

She placed her other hand back in yours, comforting you with the familiar warmth returning.

She was almost touching your skin, with you winceing your muscles in your face-

The door slamed open.

You both flinched at the loudness.

"Vi, stop!" Ekko yelled, dropping the pillows on the ground.

"What? What!" She froze in a panic.

"You can't just put alcohol on it open and infected! You need to clean it first dumbass!" Ekko argued with his hands moving in the air.

Your eyes are just wide at surprise with the level Ekkos voice was. He was a little scary when he's loud. He must have seen your emotions written on your face. He walks over to you, glaring at Vi, then turning his attention back at you.

"Damn it, I'm sorry, y/n. I didn't mean to scare you. I know that would've hurt like a bitch if I didn't say something though. I'm sorry."

"No... it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it. Or the door slamming." Eyes looking down at your hands, fiddling with your nails.

He looks at you with those eyes. Eyes you haven't seen in a really long time.

Ekko forgot how startled you got from loud noises. It was a whole thing when you were younger. The kids' Vi's age would make fun of you even though u were only a few years apart. Ekko and Powder were always there to calm you down, while Vi would yell or hit the other kids for making fun of you. When you would hear loud noises, you would go into a panic like state.

And you seemed to forget how bad Ekko and Vi got being protective of you. Reason on why they're acting the way they are now.

"Vi.. just let me handle her. Go help the others set up dinner." He sighed, closing his eyes to try and stay calm.

"Wha- Ekko, I was only trying to help!" Vi stands up from the seat, her body language defensive.

"Vi-"

"Vi." You interrupted ekko with a stearn voice, softened it up with a light sigh.

They stop bickering and turn their attention twords you.

"I dont wanna see you guys arguing about me. Please. We just got here."

Vi looks at little disappointed while Ekko has a smirk on his face.

"Hey. Stop it. She didn't know. Just because I told her to stop doesn't mean you get to act like you weren't part of the problem."

The silence in the room was so thick that you could legitimately cut it with a blade.

Both of their heads were looking twords the ground.

Vi opened her mouth and then closed it again for a moment before speaking.

"If you need me, princess, I'll be outside.."

"Thanks Vi. Ekko, when you're done, can you let her know to come back in?"

Vi walked out, shoving the pillows with her foot, moving them out of the way so she didn't step on them. Ekko just nodded his head, then looked back up at you.

"Can you do whatever it is that you and Vi were arguing about now?"

"Yeah yeah...I'm sorry. You know how we are.. especially when it comes to you.."

"I know...let's just get this over with please."

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

Vi walks back into the room after helping set up dinner to see you sleeping, and Ekko sitting next to your bed knocked out in a chair.

As she walks up to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, little man, I'll watch her for a little while. Go get some actual sleep."

He mumbled under his breath after opening his eyes all they way. "Fine. Just don't bother her too much."

"Yeah I know. "

He gets up after that, looking back at you, then walks out. Slaming the door a little to where Vi flinches.

You groan, moving over closer to the wall. Vi takes this chance to slowly and quietly lay down next to you. She covers you up with the blanket.

"Hmm? Vi?" You say in a groggy tone, still with your back turned to her. You slowly move to turn over, but with the slightest movement you wince.

"Hey hey, yeah, it's me, princess. It's me. Don't move, you'll hurt yourself mo- Hey wait- y/n I said don't move."

You turn over so you're facing her, ignoring what she just said. You don't say anything, neither does she, but you both feel the tension between you too. Body's so close you can feel the warmth of hers on your skin.

"You're as stubborn as you used to be, you know that y/n?" You can hear the smile on her face when she says that laughing.

You stare at your hands between you two. She sees you fiddling with them, so she grabbed both of your hands with hers and intertwined them. You instantly turn pink. You think it's embarrassing, but Vi on the other hand, finds it so lovable. Finds you lovable.

"You don't need to be nervous or embarrassed. There's no one else here. Just you and me. Just us." You can feel her looking at you when she's talking, but you're not bold enough to look back. She releases one of the hands she was holding to cup your face and tilt your head up to look at her.

"Just us y/n." Her face slowly inches closer as her eyes move from yours to your lips. Your breaths fasten, and you can feel your heart beat through your entire body. Your breathing starts to get heavier.

"Shhh, princess, it's okay. Shh, it's alright." She moves her hand from your face to your heart and moves your hand to hers.

"Breathe with me, okay? You can feel my heartbeat, yeah? Good, baby, good. Breathe how I am. Just take a few deep breaths." She nods her head as you start to breathe, nodding with her.

You stare at her as your face softens. Your breathing starts to calm down now that you can feel her heartbeat. It's so soothing to you. So nostalgic.

"There you go baby, see? All better." She says, smiling but slowly droping it as you both stare into eachothers eyes.

This time, it's you leaning in, moving your hand to her cheek, then to the back of her neck pulling her in for a kiss.

You feel the whole world pause. Like it's just you and her in that moment. Slowly and loving. She moves her hands, one wrapping around your waist, pulling even you in closer than you had been before.

You panic a bit before she leans in, your eyes flickering back and forth between hers and then down to her lips.

When she kisses you, your eyes start to flutter shut as she rubs her thumb on your waist. The feeling of her hand on your waist makes your whole body tingle with heat.

You gasp when she pulls you to her where your chests are touching. The only thing keeping you apart is the clothing.

She slips her tongue in, causing you to whine, and the feeling of her hand moving from your waist to your lower back makes you moan, goosebumps running all over your body.

Her kiss distracted you from the pain. The way her mouth moved with yours. The way her hands explored your body, slowly moving up your back, getting under your shirt. Her hands where so warm compared to your cold back.

She pulled away from the kiss, making you whimper from the loss of her lips on yours. You move your face closer to hers, trying to kiss her again.

Vi's lips ghosted gently on yours, her thumb and your bottom lip, and her forehead on yours.

"I dont wanna go too fast, baby. If we keep moving like this, I dont know if I'll be able to hold back...I don't wanna hurt you." She said, looking down at your lips, her voice whispering as her thumb rubs your bottom lip.

You look at her with puppy eyes as she talks slowly. You respond with a slow nod.

"You know.. I've wanted you to do that since forever." You chuckle.

She looks you in the eyes and just smiles. She moves her thumb to rub the side of your cheek. You get flustered again, but don't look away this time. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the big smile on your face.

She chuckles and pulls your face back in for a kiss. Being as gentle with you as she can be. Slowly kissing you, moving her lips from your to your forehead.

"Baby, you got two choices. You can sleep for the rest of the day, or I can go get you some food, bring it up here, sit up her, and eat with you. Hmm? Which one sounds better?" She says, whispering against your head.

"Both" you both laugh lightly.

"Okay, we can do that."

There's a comfortable moment of silence. You close your eyes and nuzzle your head into her neck as she chuckles.

"Hey, y/n?"

You mumbled a yes into the crook of her neck, causing her to laugh at the tickle of your voice.

"I never told you but...I- i love you."

You could feel the speed of her heartbeat and her breath pacing. You lay your hand on her heart, slowly moving your thumb in circles. You kiss her neck at the same time. You can feel her body relaxing more as you do.

"You didn't need to tell me...I've always known. I love you too Vi. Always have, always will." You smile as you can feel her hand move to the back of your head gently rubbing your hair.

She can't get enough of you. Her heart fluttered when you said you loved her. She's been waiting for you to say those words.

___________________________________________a/n: i am so so sorry ts took 4ever. Also if I slept anything wrong please tell me. I'm dislexic so I might make a few slip ups. I hope you guys liked ts😭🙏🏼💗

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@maruiin @armyswag93 @maddiethegoodwitch

Ps:There was sb else that wanted to be tagged, but I couldn't find there tag😭

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[lilcreaturethingfromthewoods]

Thanks to @yutamayo for tagging me (soz i took so long to reply)!!

1. Your favorite character - While Kugisaki is absolutely my queen, I'm actually also really fond of Inumaki (which is why I got so excited when I found a light novel in which the two of them teamed up). She's an absolute badass, and I think he's really sweet (also I like his voice an abnormal amount, even if he only speaks in ingredience most of the time)

2. Your favorite villain - I guess I'm going to have to say Mahito. I like the insight he provides into the nature of curses. But mostly I really just love to hate him. I want to put him in a sealed jar and shake it really really hard

3. Character who has your favorite technique - Kugisaki. While I do envy Fushiguro's summoning ability, I do like the use of hammer and nails - not to mention her driving nails into herself to cause pain to attackers? The Baddest of Ass.

4. Your favorite relationship (romantic or platonic, up to you!) - hmmmmm. I feel like there aren't many opportunities in the series to see characters just kinda hanging out together when they're not fighting, so my top (platonic) relationship is probably the main three of Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, since they have the most downtime together. I like watching them just being idiots and having fun together!

I cast tag upon the following: @sleepy-sham and anyone else (I don't know how many moots I have that watch jjk pls help me)

Jujutsu Kaisen tag game!!

1. Your favorite character

2. Your favorite villain

3. Character who has your favorite technique

4. Your favorite relationship (romantic or platonic, up to you!)

⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

tagging- @odysseus-s-sword @chosoyukiism @creativebrainrot @midorriii @fushigurover @1ichtbringer @canontypicalgoblins @darksidesuguru @epickiya722 @supportingwomenswrongs @sunnyyflowerrs @alonelystargazer @syrooo

[women-in-ssports]

FOREVER AND A DAY

Ch 7. ALOT HAPPENING

The whole weekend had been a whirlwind. The game Friday night had been an emotional rollercoaster, and when they’d won in the final quarter, Azzi had felt a rush of adrenaline and pride for the team. But when she saw Paige and Joseph share that kiss after the game, the sharp pang of something *different*—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—had settled into her chest. And that feeling hadn’t gone away.

So when Jake had texted her asking if she wanted to go on a date that weekend, she’d said yes without really thinking. But then, as the days stretched on, she began to feel the weight of the decision.

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to go on the date. But at the same time, she *did* want to go. The attention from Jake, the way he looked at her—she liked it, and it felt like a distraction from the mess of feelings surrounding Paige.

So, she changed the date. *Next weekend*, she texted back. She wasn’t sure why she’d pushed it back a whole week. Maybe she just needed more time to figure things out. Or maybe she didn’t want to feel like she was rushing into something that wasn’t really real.

But this morning, as she stood by her locker, tying her shoes and staring down at her phone, the weight of it all hit her again. She hadn’t told anyone about the date. It wasn’t that she was hiding it—she just wasn’t sure how to explain it. Especially not to Paige.

Azzi shoved the phone back into her pocket, trying to focus on getting to class, but the uncertainty still nagged at her. She wasn’t *into* Jake the way she thought she should be. She liked the attention. It felt nice. But every time she thought about him, her mind seemed to wander back to Paige. It was like she couldn’t help herself.

As Azzi walked toward the school entrance, she noticed Paige and Joseph talking outside. Paige was laughing, her smile lighting up her face as Joseph made some offhand joke, his arm casually slung over her shoulder. It was easy to see the chemistry between them—the comfort, the warmth. Everything Azzi *wished* she could have with someone, but she wasn’t sure who. She didn’t know if it was just the *idea* of Jake, or if it was something deeper—something more like what she might have with Paige.

But Paige was with Joseph, and Azzi was… stuck.

She walked past them quickly, trying to ignore the way her heart twisted, and ducked inside the building. When she reached her usual spot by the bleachers to meet up with the girls before first period, the usual group was already hanging out. Nika, Ice, and Aubrey were chatting, but Azzi couldn’t quite tune into the conversation.

Paige had joined them just a few minutes ago, slipping into her usual spot beside Azzi. But even though Paige was *there*, something felt different.

For a few moments, Azzi just stared at her best friend, who seemed uncharacteristically distracted. She wasn’t her usual self—her words came a little too quickly, her body a little too stiff. Azzi couldn’t figure out if something was *off* or if it was just the leftover tension from the game and everything that had happened since.

In a moment of quiet, when the conversation fell into a lull, Azzi found herself speaking without thinking.

“So, um, I said yes to Jake’s date next weekend,” Azzi said, her voice a little too casual for her own liking.

There was a pause, a split second of stillness, before Paige’s head snapped toward her. For just a second, Azzi thought she saw something flicker in her eyes—something she couldn’t place. But before Azzi could figure it out, Paige’s face broke into a tight, controlled smile.

“You’re going on a date with Jake?” Paige repeated, her voice tight.

Azzi nodded, feeling the weight of the words as they left her lips. "Yeah, I mean, it’ll be fun. I’m not really sure what it’ll be like, but it’s just a date, right?" Her laugh was soft, almost forced.

Paige’s smile faltered, just for the briefest second. Azzi noticed it, but before she could say anything, Paige cleared her throat and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yeah, I guess. It’s high school, right?” she said, her words a little too quick, too sharp. She gave a half-hearted shrug.

Azzi was still watching her closely. The tension between them felt thick, the air suddenly heavier. *Was Paige upset?* She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that something wasn’t sitting right in her chest. Paige had always been supportive about everything, so why did this feel different?

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently, not sure if she was even ready for the answer.

Paige’s eyes flicked away, and she let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, of course. I’m fine. Totally.” She gave Azzi a tight smile, the kind she always used when she was trying to cover something up. It made Azzi’s stomach turn.

It wasn’t like Paige to hide what she was feeling, and the fact that she was doing it now—*over something so small*—made Azzi feel like she’d missed something. Something important.

Azzi stared at her best friend for a long moment, her heart heavy. The silence between them felt loud, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“So… um, you’re really okay with it?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet now, trying to keep things light.

Paige gave her a quick, sharp nod. “Yeah, sure. It’s not a big deal,” she said quickly, then stood up, brushing herself off. “Anyway, we should head to class. Don’t want to be late for that history exam.”

Azzi nodded slowly, her eyes still lingering on Paige, who was already walking off, a little too briskly. Something was off, and Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something.

She watched Paige walk away, her back stiff, and felt a pang of uncertainty in her chest.

*What just happened?* Nika whispered looking after Paige.

Azzi didn’t know. But she knew one thing: things between them were changing. And whatever was coming next, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

But she was starting to realize that she couldn’t stop it.

Not anymore.

THURSDAY

It was Thursday, and Azzi was walking Jake to the double doors of the school. She wasn’t exactly in a rush—he had been talking about something trivial, a joke or a thought that had popped into his head—and Azzi had been laughing along, distracted by the easy flow of their conversation. She liked Jake, or at least, she liked the attention he gave her. It was fun and uncomplicated. He was cute, funny, and seemed genuinely interested in her. For a moment, she could almost forget the mess of feelings she had for Paige, the confusion that kept swirling beneath the surface of their friendship.

Jake waved her off with a smile as he stepped through the doors to his next class, and Azzi lingered there for a moment, watching him go. She didn’t even realize she’d been standing there for as long as she had until she glanced at the time. She was late for gym.

"Shit," Azzi muttered under her breath, grabbing her gym bag and rushing toward the gym, hoping she wouldn’t get too much of a scolding.

The halls were practically empty, and by the time Azzi reached the gym doors, she could hear the faint buzz of the bell marking the end of the passing period. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible, though she knew she was already too late.

As she walked in, her eyes immediately found Paige, sitting with her usual crowd on the bleachers, her arms crossed, looking a little too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be on the court. Paige had a way of making everything seem effortless—even when she wasn’t exactly following the rules.

Azzi made her way toward the locker room, but just as she was about to head in, she heard Paige’s voice call out.

"You can't be late, Azzi," Paige said, her tone flat and surprisingly stern.

Azzi stopped mid-step and glanced back at her, unsure of the vibe Paige was giving off. Paige’s eyes met hers with a sharpness that made Azzi freeze, even though the words themselves weren’t anything to get worked up over. It was the way she said it—like she was more concerned than usual. More... *disappointed*, maybe?

“What are you on about, P? I'm not late. We still have two minutes before we need to be on the court, and you’re still sitting here,” Azzi replied, trying to keep her tone light, almost teasing, like it was no big deal.

Paige’s gaze didn’t soften. “Yes, but the bell already rang before you came in, Az,” she said quietly, but firmly.

Azzi felt a sharp tug of confusion. Something in Paige’s voice felt different today—tense, almost like she was holding something back. She couldn’t put her finger on it. There was no reason for this kind of energy, right? It was just gym class. But somehow, it felt like there was more to it than that.

She tilted her head, frowning slightly. “Okay… whatever. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s late. And I didn’t even see you rush to get in here either,” Azzi shot back, trying to play it off.

But Paige didn’t respond to that. She just looked at Azzi with an unreadable expression, then glanced at the clock on the wall, like she was mentally calculating something.

Azzi had half a mind to keep pushing it, to try and force some kind of answer out of her best friend, but the weirdness of the moment hit her like a cold wave. Paige wasn’t playing around this time. And whatever this was—it wasn’t just about being on time for gym class. It felt like there was something unsaid hanging between them, something that Azzi couldn’t get a handle on.

Instead of continuing the back-and-forth, Azzi just sighed, grabbed her stuff from the hallway, and nodded toward Paige. “Alright, I get it. I’ll go get changed,” she muttered, pushing through the door into the locker room.

Paige’s gaze lingered on Azzi for a moment, but she didn’t say anything more. She didn’t follow Azzi into the locker room either. Azzi was left with that feeling again—the feeling that things were off. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she knew something was changing, shifting between them. And this time, it wasn’t as easy to ignore.

As Azzi got ready for gym class, the thought of Jake and the date next weekend crept back into her mind. She hadn’t told anyone about it—no one except for a few people close to her. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping it so quiet, but maybe it had something to do with Paige. Maybe she didn’t want to deal with whatever emotions that would stir up. Azzi had always been able to talk to Paige about anything, but lately, it seemed like every conversation had a way of spiraling into uncomfortable territory. And with the way Paige had reacted this morning... Azzi wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

The whole class went by quickly, but Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the tension with Paige than just the casual back-and-forth they had earlier. Azzi didn’t know why she was still so distracted by it. She didn’t even know if it was worth addressing. But it kept eating at her, and by the time the bell rang and the class dismissed, she felt the weight of it still lingering in the air.

AFTER GYM

Walking out of the gym, Azzi saw Paige talking to Joseph and for a moment, Azzi hesitated. She knew she wasn’t close to Joseph—hell, they weren’t exactly friends—but she felt an odd impulse to say something. To clear the air. To ask her best friend what the hell was going on.

But before she could act on it, she noticed something else: the way Paige was smiling at Joseph, the way her body language softened when he touched her arm. They were in their own little world, and Azzi... well, she was standing on the outside of it.

Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe Paige’s reaction to Jake was nothing to worry about. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave. What had changed between them? And why did it feel like Azzi was walking on thin ice every time she tried to talk to Paige?

As she walked past them and out of the gym, Azzi pushed the thoughts aside, at least for now. She had to. She didn’t have the answers yet, and the last thing she wanted was to make things more complicated.

FRIDAY

It was Friday afternoon, and the excitement of the weekend was just starting to settle in. The entire basketball team was already piling onto the bus for their team bonding trip, the chatter of teammates filled the air, their voices mixing with the low hum of excitement. It was meant to be a fun trip to take everyone's minds off the stress of the season, a bonding experience before the final push toward the playoffs. But for Azzi, the trip was already feeling complicated before it had even begun.

She stood outside Jake’s car, her hand resting on the edge of the door, her thoughts racing. The engine was running, and the car’s lights flickered in the dim light of the late afternoon. Jake was leaning against the hood, his expression a mix of anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

"You’re coming, right? You said you’d go this weekend," Jake said, his voice soft but earnest. He wasn’t pushing—just hoping.

Azzi nodded, trying to make the smile on her face look convincing. "Yeah, I said I would."

Jake stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Good," he said, leaning in a little too quickly. His lips brushed against the air as he tried to kiss her.

Azzi didn’t move, didn’t lean in. In that moment, she felt stuck, frozen. She turned her head slightly, just enough so his lips only grazed her cheek, not quite a rejection, but not what he had wanted either.

Jake pulled back, a small frown tugging at his lips, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. We’ll talk more this weekend. You’re sure you’re okay with this, right?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if sensing her hesitation.

Azzi didn’t know how to answer. Her mind was swirling—*Why didn’t I want to kiss him?* She liked the idea of a date. She liked how he made her feel, how easy he was to talk to. But when he’d tried to kiss her... she’d felt nothing but confusion. Shouldn’t she have felt something? Shouldn’t she have wanted to kiss him back?

"Yeah, I’m fine," Azzi said, her voice coming out a little too softly, not quite convincing even to herself.

Jake smiled, though it was a little unsure now. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

Azzi watched him walk away, the questions only growing louder in her mind as she walked back toward the bus. The whole weekend was supposed to be a fun distraction, but something about it was starting to feel... wrong. She wasn’t sure what she was even waiting for, but the doubts crept in, and they were hard to shake.

When she climbed onto the bus, everyone was already talking excitedly.m. But the second Azzi stepped in, there was a collective pause, followed by a chorus of "Oooo" and "Awwww" from the team.

Azzi felt her face flush, but she just shrugged it off, pretending like she didn’t care. No one would have noticed the hesitation in her steps or the unease in her eyes. To them, she was the girl with the guy—. Everything seemed simple for them.

Except it wasn’t simple for her.

The seat next to Paige was empty, and without thinking, Azzi slid into her usual spot. It was automatic at this point. Even though things felt off between them recently, it was still where she felt most comfortable, next to Paige.

Paige didn’t even look at her as she sat down. She was staring out the window, her expression unreadable, and Azzi felt the tension rise in her chest. It had been like this lately—small, uncomfortable silences between them. But they both pretended it wasn’t there, and maybe that was the hardest part.

The bus started moving, and Azzi leaned back in her seat, trying to shake the feeling that she was somewhere between two worlds. She was still holding on to something with Jake, still uncertain about the date they’d planned for the weekend. And then there was Paige—who felt like she was pulling away, but also, in small moments, was still *there*, as if nothing had changed.

The ride was long, and the motion of the bus made Azzi’s eyelids grow heavier. She found herself nodding off, her head falling against the cool window. Her last thought before she slipped into sleep was that she needed to stop overthinking everything. But that was easier said than done.

When she woke up, the bus was quieter than before. The sounds of excited chatter had dimmed into soft murmurs, and the movement of the bus seemed to have slowed down. Azzi blinked, feeling a strange warmth against her cheek. She tried to adjust her position, but then she realized—she wasn’t leaning against the window anymore. Her head was resting on something softer. Someone.

Azzi froze.

She blinked again, and her eyes shifted slightly, taking in the scene. Paige was sitting next to her, her head resting gently on Azzi’s. Their bodies were so close now, their shoulders almost touching. Paige’s arm was loosely wrapped around Azzi’s waist, holding her in place, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

*What the hell?*

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. She was so confused, she couldn’t even think straight. The moment felt intimate, almost like something out of a dream, but Azzi knew this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

Slowly, she shifted, trying not to wake Paige, but something about it felt... right, like she was meant to be there, like Paige’s presence was both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat. She had no idea how to process this. Paige’s arms felt so natural around her, but what did it mean? Was this just something casual—an accident in their sleep? Or was there more to it than that?

*God, I’m so lost right now.*

Azzi didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotions, the mix of warmth and confusion, that ran through her as she lay there, trying to figure out what was happening. Why did this feel different? Why did it feel *good*, in a way she didn’t understand?

And then she realized—the last few days, there had been this pull, this shift between her and Paige that she couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just jealousy over Jake. It wasn’t just the date. It was something else entirely.

Paige’s head shifted, her hair brushing against Azzi’s cheek, and Azzi’s breath hitched.

What was happening between them?

Azzi didn’t know. But all she could think as she tried to calm her racing heart was that this... this wasn’t just about Jake.

It was about Paige.

TIME JUMP

The boys' playoff game had been intense. Joseph’s team fought hard, but in the end, they lost their second game, effectively ending their playoff run. Joseph took the loss in stride, but it was obvious he was disappointed. Azzi had seen him linger in the locker room afterward, not saying much, just staring at the floor like he was processing the weight of it all. The loss stung, but what followed in the days after was even more unexpected. Paige and Joseph had broken up, though no one really knew the reason. Azzi overheard Dorka and Paige talking about it, but she didn’t press for answers. It seemed like one of those things that just… happened.

Without Joseph, Paige seemed lighter, freer. It was like the emotional weight she’d been carrying around had finally been lifted. Azzi didn’t pry into the details, but she couldn’t deny how relieved she felt. For the first time in a long while, she had her best friend back—without the constant tension that came with Joseph’s presence. The group was a little quieter without him around, but the dynamic felt more natural, more like it had before, and Azzi found herself grateful for that, even if she wasn’t sure why.

But that didn’t stop the undercurrent of change between her and Paige. Something was different now, though neither of them seemed to notice it yet. They spent more time together after the breakup, and the air between them felt lighter, more natural. They laughed more, exchanged more quiet moments, and it felt like everything was returning to the way it had been before—just the two of them in their own world, with no one else really understanding their dynamic. To Azzi, it was like they were finally getting back to that place they’d always had. She couldn’t deny that it felt good, but she never once considered it as anything more than the rekindling of their deep friendship. Neither of them realized yet how much the space between them was shrinking, how the lines were blurring. For now, they just thought they were two best friends who were closer than ever.

SUMMER

Summer felt like it lasted forever, and yet, it went by in a blur. The group of girls—Azzi, Paige, Caroline, Aubrey, Nika, and Ice—spent nearly every day together, their bond growing even tighter. Sleepovers became a regular thing, nights filled with laughter, secrets, and a never-ending supply of snacks. They’d stay up late watching movies, gossiping about anything and everything, and making plans for the future. It was the kind of carefree summer you dream about, when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just them, creating memories.

Azzi and Paige were nearly inseparable, attached at the hip in a way that felt natural—like they were two halves of the same whole. They spent the mornings together, whether it was lounging by the pool or driving with the windows down, singing along to songs they both knew by heart. Azzi didn’t even realize how often their hands brushed or how their laughter seemed to echo a little more when they were together. They didn’t need words to fill the silence; being near each other was enough. And when they weren’t together, they were always checking in with each other, sending texts or calling just to make sure the other was okay.

The others were there too, of course. Caroline and Aubrey would make the occasional sarcastic comment, teasing Azzi and Paige about being joined at the hip, but they didn’t mind. Nika and Ice would roll their eyes but secretly enjoyed watching their best friends navigate the summer, sharing inside jokes with the group. Even when the six of them were together, there was this invisible force that pulled Azzi and Paige closer, making it seem like they were always on the same wavelength.

But amidst all the fun and the laughter, there were those moments that lingered. A lingering glance when they thought the other wasn’t looking. The quiet moments when they’d both find themselves alone, side by side, with no one else around. Azzi would feel the warmth of Paige’s hand resting against hers, or she’d catch the way Paige would smile at her—just for a second—before looking away. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them questioned it. They were best friends. That’s all it was. At least, that’s what they told themselves.

A secret

As the summer went on, Azzi couldn’t help but notice Aubrey’s growing distance whenever she and Paige were together. At first, it was subtle—an eye roll here, a quiet moment there—but the more time Azzi spent with Paige, the more it seemed like Aubrey was acting... jealous. Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that Aubrey was upset about their closeness, but she didn’t know why. Was it just the usual summer tension, or did Aubrey like Paige in a way Azzi hadn’t realized? The unspoken tension hung between them, and though Azzi didn’t ask Aubrey directly, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she ever did. For now, the secret stayed buried, a quiet undercurrent to their summer that neither was willing to address.

[natnatscorner]

Not used to this

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JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: You and the pogues have always gotten along. They all love you, except for one.. that would be JJ Maybank and not for the reason you'd think.

based on this request!

word count: 762

cw: none, fluffy

masterlist - outer banks masterlist

It's Friday night here in Outer Banks, and there's a small soiree for Kooks at the beach. Instead of going to enjoy yourself with your friends, you're working the night as a server since you need the community service hours. It's not too bad thankfully you're just serving food and drinks after all.

You stumble upon your pogue friends and Sarah. You decide to go towards them, giving them a sweet smile and wave. "Hey guys! I didn't expect to see you here." At the table are Kiara, Pope, John B, Sarah, and JJ. "Hey Y/N we decided to stop by for a bit, check it out maybe go to a party after." voiced John B. "Sounds fun! Can I get you guys anything a drink, something to eat? Night's been pretty slow surprisingly."

Pope was about to say something before JJ cut him off "We're not helpless Y/N, if we want something we'll get up and get it. Okay?" he spat. "Woah JJ, calm down I'm just doing my job, sorry for being a bother." You waved goodbye and walked away, feelings deeply hurt by his rough tone.

You're not sure why JJ acted like that towards you. You've always been nice to him and his friends, and treated them with respect, unlike others. It's okay if not everyone likes you, but there should be a reason why he treats you this way, right?

"JJ c'mon man, why'd you do that? She's always sweet towards us and you talk to her like that." John B and the group continued to scold JJ until he finally got up to apologize. "OKAY! I'm going, damn guys" He holds his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes as he walks towards you.

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You're working the bar, making some mocktails. You're still thinking about JJ and how he spoke to you. Deep in your thoughts, you hear someone call your name. You turn around and speak of the devil—it's JJ.

"Hey uh, can we go somewhere and talk?" He asks quietly, looking a little embarrassed.

"Sure, let me just finish these drinks up. It won't long don't worry." You give him a quick smile and continue with your work. That damn smile he thought. Once you finish you let another server know you're taking a quick break. You both walk a few feet away from the venue and pause.

"Okay, what was it that you wanted to talk about?" You asked sweetly.

"I uh- just wanted to apologize for the way I acted earlier, you don't deserve to be talked to that way." He said feeling lots of guilt building up. He doesn't want to come off rude to you, he knows that you are a kind-hearted person, but then again you're a Kook and they're all the same in the end, right?

"Hey it's okay, I get it. You think Kooks are assholes and trust me some check that box off but we're not all like that JJ. I mean look at Sarah, you like her, don't you? And she's dating John B, they seem to be doing really good despite being from different sides of the island. "

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is, why do you treat me like this?" You look up at him directly in the eyes.

He looks away from you and sighs. "I-I don't know. I feel really bad right now and I can't give you a real answer. I mean you're so kind to me, I guess I'm just not used to a pretty Kook like you being so kind. Based on the people I've seen you hang around, just didn't think you'd be like this.."

"You think I'm pretty?" You ask, crossing your arms with a big smile.

"Yeah, of course. You're beautiful Y/N." He looks at you smiling back.

You let out a small giggle. "Come here ya big dope." You go in to hug him. He's hesitant at first but after a few seconds, you feel him wrap his arms around your waist.

"So am I forgiven?" he asks still in the embrace.

You force yourself to pull back. "Yes JJ, of course." Looking at the time, you still have a good amount of time left. "Wanna walk around for a bit? I still have another 10 minutes."

"Sure why not?" You wrap your arm around his and walk around the beach admiring the sunset. Talking about the most stupid things ever until your break is up.

You still can't believe the reason he was so mean was because he actually had a crush on you? Definitely something you're not used to.

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© natnatscorner - please do not copy, repost or translate my works on here or any other platform!

[captain-of-silvenar]

Hi Yera, how is it following the Green Pact in Skyrim? Is it difficult? Are done holds easier than others?

Well hello, a decent question that actually respects the Green Pact. Let's get started.

It's not the worst place to keep to the Green Pact, Skyrim. It's a big place and hunting still is a big part of the culture around here so it's not unusual to be seen out in the fields alone stalking some deer for some dinner.

Winter is new, though. Never had winter growing up so the snow threw me in for a loop. Even worst trying to hunt in the field. Ended up having to buy a lot of my meats around that time and survive with cheese, jerky, and milk.

The southern Holds are easier, with Falkreath being forested enough I can pretend it's almost like my jungle home. Riften is more sparse with the trees, but seeing as there is a big ol' lake outside my house I have a more fish diet here.

Whiterun is my favorite place to go hunting. Wide plains are new, but the tall grass is exciting to stalk through and having to listen to the grass to spot my target.

It's when I start getting more north that I get mixed results.

Windhelm and Winterhold, hands down, awful. Horrible. I can get fish there, but the fish are practically frozen by the time they're pulled out and Windhelm's presence alone makes it awful to stay there. Went to Winterhold a handful of times to see Enthir for Guild related work and basically never went up there again.

Solitude is fish again, but the East Empire Company present there jacks all the prices up. I can't even go fishing myself, I have to have a license. A license! What nonsense is that, to put a price tag on the river.

I'm not even going to talk about Markarth. I'd rather never step foot in that stone prison ever again. Mountains and sheer cliffs and terrible people make hunting and eating there just awful.

Even with all this, sometimes it's impossible to stick to strict Green Pact. I can't very well not accidentally snap a twig, or step on some grass or bushes. I try very much not to but I comfort myself by saying these are not Y'ffre's jungles so I'm not beholden to the rules. Still feels weird.

And the rampant bandit problems makes it impossible for me to fight any of them without killing them. That was the worst part for me really. I've never had to take a life in my entire life, not until the Void Nights. Even then, it put a bad taste in my mouth.

To so easily take a life away and not honor it in anyway, even if it was a bandit or a mad mage, or someone wishing true harm upon me, it just feel wrong.

But this is not Valenwood, and these are not of the Green. So I am fully excused from not following the tenants fully. But living in Skyrim for a handful of years can't replace centuries of practice.

question came from here!

[articskele]

LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT THE SEER >:D

Ok so in Warhammer 40k: Darktide there are four classes, one of which being the Psyker!

Psykers (at least in this case) are humans with psychic abilities, ranging from mind reading to ye olde fireball spell to making someone's head implode! Sometimes they're born with it, and sometimes it develops later on!

But all of this power is drawn from the Warp, aka Space Hell, so psykers are often feared and ostracized not only for their powers, but because there's a very real chance they'll just go haywire or get possessed by a demon.

Each class in the game has multiple options for their voice and personality, and one of them is Psyker Male B! Aka the Seer!

No canon appearance, no lore, I haven't even played the game, just sheer force of voice acting! >:D

---

He's got that scraggly charm about him! Cheery and sincere with a touch of theatrics, but he never got socialized as a puppy and has the power to snap someone out of existence without even realizing it-

Seer's convinced that the events of the game aren't really real, that he's just dreaming it all up.

Several voicelines mention a “My Beloved” who talks in his head, and is heavily implied to be A SHARD OF THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND HIMSELF. JUST HANGING OUT WITH THIS RANDOM GUY

---

I don't have much lore for him, I just like the idea that he got reverse-isekai'd (likely via warp shenaniganry) and hangs out with Artic!

Even something as small as listening to him talk on and on while she does the dishes really lightens her mood. He's just fun to be around!

That voiceline where he says "I like that we're friends!" sums them up just great :D

She makes him feel welcomed and listened to and understood for once! And his seemingly endless enthusiasm helps her muster the strength to keep going! I like to think he calls her "my sweet" ouo

Since he can read minds, sometimes they have conversations where Seer talks out loud but Artic responds in her thoughts. Speaking in emotions when her head gets fuzzy and can't form words.

Yknow when you have headphones on, but you're thinking of a song instead of actually playing it? He can hear that, so both of them are just sitting nodding their heads to the beat in silence gkjsdf

I keep imagining Seer throwing his arms around her and hugging her from behind ouo

I like to think his favorite animal is ducks! One of his voicelines mentions a Sprinx Mallard (presumably a fictional species), and Artic definitely gets him a duck plushie at some point!

I think he'd also really like colorful plastic easter eggs, this sparrow figure, multiplayer Buckshot Roulette, and Psyduck!

reblog and show me your selfship?:3 I wanna see em all! go crazy! tell me everything about them!

[starflungwaddledee]

some rather strong first impressions were made.

required reading for the magical "voice" headcanon and another for starstruck's signature in particular. asked by @trainerbob23 !

[jinjjayo]

JEON SOMI (answering 30 questions as quickly as possible)

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[luvo27]

i have thought a LOT about how i like to write cass in my fics so here's one of the thoughts:

one thing that i do on purpose when writing from cass's pov is not use the babs or steph nicknames in the narration and this is something that i thought about because if i'm writing in steph's pov, i'll use the steph nickname from time to time but i don't use it for cass. i love love love love the scott puckett batgirl run, and one thing that really makes it unique to me is the lack of cass's narration and yes this is because she doesn't know english for a bit but even afterwards it's still fairly minimal, and there's very much the question of like, how on earth do you translate this very visual character into a written medium? the idea is like, trying to distance the narrator's voice from cass's voice. it's fun in a sense of like, i cant draw and use art to show how cass's thoughts work and how she connects things in her mind, but i can get the narrator to describe her thoughts even if in words not her own so cass might call stephanie by the nickname steph, but the narrator wouldn't, and all of the narration is like a second hand translation of what's actually happening in cass's head and sometimes it's more connected to cass's voice and sometimes it's less connected and i don't know if this is making any sense at all. basically if i were ever going to write a cass comic i think i'd write the narration in 3rd person most of the time

[v-iv-rusty]

something I really love abt souls games is how every character is so lovingly voice acted. and I don't just mean the main ones but even the ones that 'don't matter' or show up once and then die etc whatever. all of them feel so...idk. unique? charming. none of them feel like their vas just kind of half assed it bc 'well no ones going to care about this guy anyway' they're all so full of character and life

[bogdreamz]

SOOO WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT SEASON 4???

(love your art btw!!!)

smeltbracket found dead in this kitchen

[starbuck]

the fact that i enjoy talking in front of other people and gain energy and mental peace from running large group events is so fucking funny and truly the world’s biggest plot twist.