#trying out different lining brushes and I like this one

[7brownsuga7]

The chase | Satoru Gojo

Thinking about popular, arrogant, player Satoru who has never had to chase a girl for anything. So when you, his stubborn neighbour, give him a reality check, does he succumb to the challenge, or does his arrogance get the better of him?

Gojo has always had the world at his feet. His charisma, looks, and power making him a magnet for attention. Women usually flock to him without him having to lift a finger, their admiration feeding into his confidence. But you? You're a different breed entirely.

You aren't fazed by his cocky smirks, the lazy way he leans against door frames like he owns the room, or the way he casually slips his blindfold up just enough to let you glimpse those hypnotic blue eyes. Instead, you roll your eyes, laugh at his overly dramatic antics, and call him out when his ego gets out of hand. It's infuriating for him, and exhilarating.

Gojo has never had to chase anyone, and he sure as hell doesn't intend to start now. At first, he tries his usual tricks: flirty comments laced with innuendo, exaggerated displays of charm, and that present smirk that screams "I know you want me." But when all you give him in return is a raised brow and a scoff, his frustration is hard to hide.

"Playing hard to get, huh?" he teases one evening, leaning close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne, something expensive and infuriatingly alluring.

"Not playing," you reply, brushing past him without a second glance. Your perfume invading his senses, making him even more crazed. "Just not interested."

And that's the moment Gojo realises he's in trouble. Because now it's not just about his pride, it's about you. The way you challenge him, the way you don't fall at his feet like everyone else, the way your stubbornness sparks a fire in him he didn't know existed.

He starts showing up everywhere you are.

Casual run-ins at your favorite café, unexpected visits during your downtime, and offers to help with things you never asked for. It's subtle at first but Gojo doesn't do subtle for long.

"You know," he says one night, leaning against the counter in your kitchen after somehow convincing you to let him stay for tea, "you're the first person who's ever made me work for it."

"Good," you reply, sipping your drink with a smirk. "About time someone did."

But his persistence doesn't stop there. Gojo begins to push his limits with every interaction.

When you ignore his texts, he will keep on messaging you until you give in and reply. He even resorts to using his infinity to keep you from walking away mid conversation.

"Stop using your powers to trap me, Gojo," you snap, glaring at him.

"Then stop running," he fires back, a rare seriousness in his tone. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. No matter how hard you try to push me away."

And that's when it hits you, he's not just chasing for the sake of the thrill. This is Satoru, the untouchable, the invincible, and he's putting himself on the line for you. His arrogant exterior hides a vulnerability you hadn't seen before, and for a moment, you let your guard down.

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes. "You get one date. Don't blow it."

His grin is immediate, his excitement almost childlike. "Oh, sweetheart," he steps closer, voice low and alluring.

"You're going to regret giving me a chance. Because once I've got you, I'm never letting you go."

And for the first time, you think maybe, just maybe, Gojo chasing you isn't the worst thing in the world.

That one date? It doesn't take long for it to spiral into something far more intense. Gojo's natural charisma was overwhelming enough, but when he's got you to himself, when there's no one else around to act as a distraction , you realise just how dangerous he can be.

The evening starts innocently enough-a rooftop dinner he somehow arranged under the stars, his usual charm on full display. But it's the way his eyes linger on you, his attention sharper and more focused than you've ever seen, that starts to make your walls crumble.

"You know," he murmurs at one point, leaning over the table so his voice is low and intimate, "I’ve been thinking about this all day. About you, about tonight...about how long it's been since someone made me feel like this."

"Like what?" you ask, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

"Like I'm willing to lose." His lips curve into a slow smile, and it's all you can do to keep your composure.

The night ends with him walking you back to your place. Or at least, that's what you thought was going to happen. But the moment you step through the door, his hand catches yours, spinning you to face him.

"You're not going to make me wait, are you?" he breathes, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words are stolen when he kisses you, hard, demanding, and consuming. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body as if his infinity itself were melting away.

"Gojo-" you manage to gasp, but he silences you with another kiss, his lips parting yours with a confidence that leaves you dizzy.

"Satoru," he corrects, his voice husky as he trails kisses down your jawline to your neck. "Call me Satoru when I'm about to ruin you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and before you know it, he's guiding you to the couch, his hands working at your clothes with a practiced ease that should irritate you but only fuels the fire building inside you.

"You think you're still in control," you say, trying to keep an ounce of power in this exchange.

"Oh, I know l'm not," he admits, his grin wicked as he looks down at you, his shirt already discarded to reveal the sharp lines of his torso.

"That's what makes this so much fun."

His hands slide down your thighs, his touch setting every nerve alight as he pulls you closer.

His mouth is everywhere, your lips, your neck, your chest, his kisses alternating between tender and ravenous as if he's trying to map every inch of you.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer now. "You have no idea how long l've wanted this."

The intensity in his words is matched by the way he moves, his hands and mouth working in perfect sync to drive you to the edge. And when he finally pushes his cock into you, the world seems to fall away.

Each thrust drives you to the edge. You can’t believe you’ve been depriving yourself from his cock, his touch, him as a whole.

The way he hits your spot so effortlessly has you rolling your eyes back.

"Satoru," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has you trembling beneath him.

"Say it again," he growls, his pace quickening as he holds you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "Say my name."

And you do, over and over, until it's the only word you can manage, the only thing grounding you in the overwhelming heat and pleasure he's pouring into you.

If you were to ask Gojo, he’d tell you that your pussy was made for him. The way it wraps around his cock, sucking him in with every thrust has him ready to give anything up for you.

And it doesn’t take long for both of you to reach your end, both tangled together on the couch, your breathing heavy and your body still coming down from the aftershocks of his touch.

"Well," he says after a long moment, his smirk returning as he brushes a strand of curly hair from your face, "I think I just proved that chasing you was worth every second."

You roll your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he replies, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your soft plump lips. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I've got plenty more where that came from."

[jburrgf]

Friends; The Love Trope Series

You Belong With Me, Part. 1

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: you and joe are best friends since day one. both of you are on yours last year of high school. being part of the graduation committee means a lot to you, and you are all 100% with prom preparations. on the other side, joe is there, helping you like always. but now, things hit different when you realize he’s not just a high school sweetheart: joe burrow is the love of your whole life.

° playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn’t Be More In Love, The 1975

THE PLAINS, OHIO — SPRING 2015

JOE BURROW.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a dropped tray. I leaned back in my chair, balancing it precariously on two legs as I half-listened to my teammates debating the best dunk from last night's school game. 

My attention, though, was elsewhere. It always was these days.

“Bro, you’re staring again.”

I turned, scowling at Sam, one of my teammates. He was grinning like he’d just caught me red-handed, which, to be fair, he had.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Sam said, dragging out the words. “Just like you weren’t staring yesterday when she was hanging up those prom posters.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush him off, but the heat creeping up my neck gave me away. He wasn’t wrong. I had been staring.

It wasn’t like I could help it. Y/N had been my best friend since we were five years old, but somewhere along the line, things changed. It was subtle at first—a skipped heartbeat here, a lingering glance there. By sophomore year, I’d gone from thinking she was cute in that “best friend” way to realizing I was completely, hopelessly in love with her.

And now? Now I was just the idiot who couldn’t tell her.

Y/N was sitting at the table near the windows, her head bent over a clipboard, her pen scribbling furiously. Her lips moved as she mouthed whatever notes she was jotting down, and her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was focused. It was one of those little things about her that I couldn’t help but find endearing—like the way she’d unconsciously tap her pen against her cheek when she was thinking or how her voice would rise just a bit when she got excited about something. Watching her now, so completely absorbed, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, even if the ache in my chest reminded me why I kept these thoughts to myself. She had been like this for weeks—wrapped up in her role on the prom committee. She’d tell me about it every chance she got, her voice lighting up as she described color schemes, playlists, and centerpieces. It was cute, really, how excited she was.

But then there was him.

Brian Harris, the shooting guard from our basketball team, sauntered over to Y/N’s table. He was the type who thrived on attention, always quick with a joke or a flashy move to keep the spotlight on him. Brian and I didn’t exactly get along—Brian’s cocky demeanor had rubbed me the wrong way since freshman year, and our clashes during practice, when I used to play basketball, were almost legendary. I stiffened. He leaned on the edge of her table, his stupid, cocky grin plastered across his face as he said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted at the sound.

He always wanted everything that I had, My talent, my position, my girl. And after I left basketball for good and he became captain, he’s on the run of the other things that he misses.

“Dude, you’re gonna snap that chair if you keep leaning back like that,” Josh, one of my friends, said, smirking.

“Shut up,” I muttered, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs with a thud.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy,” Sam teased, following my gaze. “Ah, I see. Miller’s making a move on Y/N, huh?”

“He’s not making a move,” I snapped, even though the words felt hollow. Of course he was making a move. The guy was a known flirt, and Y/N was...well, Y/N. Beautiful, smart, funny. She had this way of making everyone feel like they mattered, and apparently, Brian Harris wasn’t immune to her charm.

“Relax, man. She’s your best friend. It’s not like she’d go for him,” Josh said, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Unless you’re finally ready to admit you’re into her,” Sam said, grinning from a distance.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? Josh wasn’t going to believe me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I believed myself anymore.

Y/N 

Prom committee meetings were the highlight of my week lately. Sure, they were hectic, and half the time I felt like I was herding cats trying to get everyone to agree on something, but it was worth it. This was *our* prom, and I wanted it to be perfect.

Today, I was finalizing the seating chart when Brian Harris’s shadow fell over my table. I looked up, surprised to see him smiling down at me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth. “You’re working hard over here. Need a break?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not really. There’s too much to do.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “Even superheroes need a break.”

I laughed, though it felt more polite than genuine. The truth was, Brian’s attention did nothing on me. Sure, it was nice to be noticed, but his charm felt too practiced, too rehearsed. Deep down, I knew the only person whose approval I wanted was Joe’s. Brian was nice and all, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy I’d go out of my way to talk to. Still, it was flattering that he was paying attention to me. It wasn’t like I had guys lining up to flirt with me.

“Maybe later,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe watching us from across the cafeteria. His jaw was clenched, and he was gripping his water bottle so tightly I thought it might burst. I fought the urge to smile. Joe could be so obvious sometimes.

“Alright, but don’t work too hard,” Brian said, winking as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Joe appeared at my side, dropping into the seat across from me.

“What did Harris want?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice? That guy doesn’t do nice, Y/N. He was hitting on you.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice low. “He’s into you.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he… jealous?

“And what if he is?” I asked, testing the waters.

Joe’s expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can do better than him,” he muttered, his fingers drumming against the table as his gaze shifted away, like he couldn’t bear to watch me react.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words caught in my throat. How could I tell him the truth? That I didn’t care about Brian or any other guy because the only one I wanted was standing right in front of me?

Instead, I shrugged. “He’s nice.”

Joe’s expression darkened, and he took a step back. “Right. Well, I’ve got practice. See you later.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was it just my imagination, or did he sound...jealous? I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. I’d been in love with Joe for as long as I could remember, but he’d never given me any reason to think he felt the same way. Still, moments like this made me wonder.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t focus during practice that afternoon. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brian Harris leaning over Y/N’s table, making her laugh. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. She was her own person, and she could talk to whoever she wanted. But the thought of her with someone else — especially someone like Miller — made my blood boil.

“Earth to Joe,” Coach called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you planning on joining us today, or are you just here for the view?”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled, jogging back to my spot on the field.

After practice, I found myself walking toward Y/N’s locker without even thinking about it. She was standing there, talking to Tracy, one of her friends from the prom committee. When she saw me, her face lit up, and for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

“Hey,” I said, my voice soft but warm. “Long day?”

“Exhausting,” Y/n replied with a laugh. “But worth it. The decorations are coming together, thanks to you.”

 “Just doing my part. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home? My truck’s right outside.” As the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but hope she’d say yes, imagining the quiet moments we could share on the drive back. My mind flickered to the idea of her sitting beside me, her laughter filling the cab, but I pushed the thought aside, afraid of reading too much into the moment.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment. “Actually, I’ve got a ride with a friend. We’re going to the party store, me and Tracy.”

“Right. Prom,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“You’re still going, right?” she asked, her tone almost...hopeful.

Of course.

With you, I thought.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Before the moment could grow awkward, Y/n stepped closer and leaned up to press a quick kiss to my cheek. I froze, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin like a brand. My heart thundered in my chest, my mind scrambling to process what had just happened. I raised a hand instinctively to touch the spot, a faint blush creeping up my neck as I tried to fight back a grin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent a surge of hope through I that he couldn’t ignore. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Joe.”

I froze again, my heart pounding as her words echoed in my mind. But when I tried to talk again, she was already gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the hallway with my heart in my hands.

Y/N

As Tracy and I drove to the party supply store, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Joe’s face when I told him I didn’t need a ride. He’d seemed...off. Almost sad. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

“So,” Tracy said, breaking the silence. “When are you finally going to tell Joe how you feel?”

I nearly choked on my soda. “What? I don’t—”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re into him. Well, everyone except Joe, apparently.”

I sighed, sinking lower in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet firm, as if daring me to challenge her judgment. My heart stuttered at her certainty, and for a moment, I wondered if Tracy knew something I didn’t. Was I missing signs? Or was I just too afraid to believe she might be right? The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying, a dangerous hope I wasn’t ready to fully embrace. “Because from where I’m standing, he’s just as into you as you are into him.”

Could she be right? The thought sent a flicker of hope through me, but I quickly pushed it down. Joe and I were best friends, and I couldn’t risk losing that. Even if it meant keeping my feelings to myself.

For now.

JOE BURROW

I watched her walk to her car, her hair catching the golden light of the setting sun, and I wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t I just say it? Why couldn’t I tell her that seeing Brian flirt with her had made me feel like I was losing my mind? That the thought of anyone else being close to her made my chest ache?

Because you’re a coward, Burrow.

I climbed into my truck and gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Sam’s voice echoed in my head: You should just ask her to prom.

Easier said than done.

I’d known Y/N my whole life. She was my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knew me better than anyone. But she was also the girl I was in love with, and the thought of risking everything—our friendship, the way she looked at me, the way she laughed at my stupid jokes—was enough to keep my mouth shut.

Still, as I drove home, I couldn’t shake the image of her and Brian at the booth. Her smile, her laugh—it should’ve been me making her laugh like that.

It should’ve been me.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d made up my mind.

I was going to ask her to prom.

Y/N’s POV

I got home super tired from the afternoon that I had with Tracy. After the store supplies, we went to grab some food on our way home. Now, I was sitting at my desk, trying—and failing—to focus on my calculus homework. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Joe’s name.

Joey: Can I come over?

I stared at the message for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. We texted all the time, but something about this felt… different.

Me: Yeah, sure.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my window.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips as I got up to let him in. Joe had been climbing through my window since we were kids, and even though he was way too big for it now, he still insisted on doing it.

“You know,” I said as he swung his legs over the sill, “we have a perfectly good front door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, flashing me a grin.

But the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I felt a pang of concern.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting back on my bed.

He hesitated, standing awkwardly in the middle of my room. “I, uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

He took a deep breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Do you have a date for prom?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No. Why?”

His cheeks turned pink, and he looked down at the floor. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. You know, as friends.”

My heart sank at the word friends, but I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d love to.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe? Or was it disappointment? I couldn’t tell. 

“Cool,” he said, his voice softer now. “Thanks.”

He stayed for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing, just like we always did. But when he left, climbing back out the window with a quiet “Goodnight,”  I knew something was different, I could feel in the air. But I couldn't tell what.

The next morning, I walked into school with a strange mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in my chest. I was going to prom with Joe. My best friend. The guy I’d been hopelessly in love with for years.  

Sure, he’d asked me “as friends,” but that didn’t stop the part of me that clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—prom night would change things.  

I was lost in thought as I made my way to the gym, where the prom committee was meeting to finalize decorations. I’d barely set my bag down at the table when a familiar voice interrupted me.  

“Morning, Y/N.”  

I looked up to see Brian Harris standing there, his easy smile firmly in place.  

“Oh, hey, Brian,” I said, offering him a polite smile.  

“Got a minute?” he asked, leaning casually against the table.  

“Uh, sure,” I said, setting down my clipboard.  

Brian glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then turned back to me. “So, I was thinking… you’ve been working really hard on all this prom stuff, and you deserve to have a great night. How about going with me?”  

The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “You… want to take me to prom?”  

“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re smart, funny, hot… the whole package.”  

Heat rushed to my face, but not in the way it did when Joe said something sweet. This was different—flattering, sure, but not the kind of butterflies that made your stomach flip.  

“Brian, that’s really nice of you, but…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.  

“Let me guess,” he said, cutting me off. “You already have a date?”  

I nodded, feeling a little guilty for turning him down. “Yeah, I do.”  

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky guy?”  

“Joe,” I said simply, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe? Or disbelief?  

“Joe Burrow?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.  

“Yes, Joe Burrow,” I said, crossing my arms defensively.  

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.  

“Nothing,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just… didn’t peg him as the prom type. But hey, good for him. And for you.”  

“He's my best friend. Thanks.” I said, though his words left a sour taste in my mouth.  

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. Why did everyone act like Joe and I couldn’t be more than friends?  

JOE BURROW

I was halfway through practice when I got the text from Sam.  

Sam: Dude, Brian just tried to ask Y/N to prom.  

My grip tightened on the football, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. I couldn't believe it. I kinda figured it out he was about to do something like that, he spent too much time quiet with me, it was weird. And now, he found a way.

“Burrow! Pay attention!” Coach barked.  

I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the play, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.  

Brian Harris. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up that easily.  

By the time practice ended, I was practically sprinting to the parking lot. I spotted Y/N by her car, her head bent over her phone, and I spent the whole time hoping it wasn’t Brian.

“Y/N!” I called, jogging over.  

She looked up, her face lighting up in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “Hey, Joe. What’s up?”  

“I heard about Brian,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. The truth was, I wasn’t casual at all.

Her smile faded slightly. “Who told you?”  

“Sam,” I admitted, leaning against her car.  

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he asked me this morning.”  

“And what did you say?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.  

She gave me a look. “I told him I already had a date. You.”  

The tight knot in my chest loosened a fraction. “Good.”  

“Good?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yeah,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I mean, we already have plans, right?”  

“Right,” she said, her expression softening.  

For a moment, we just stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything.  

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “do you need help with any of the prom stuff? Decorations or whatever?” 

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You’re offering to help?”  

“Why not?” I said, shrugging. “I could use the extra credit.”  

She laughed, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Alright, Burrow. Let’s see if you can survive an afternoon with the prom committee.”  

Y/N

I didn’t know what had gotten into Joe, but I wasn’t about to question it. If he wanted to spend more time with me—even if it was just to help with prom decorations—I wasn’t going to say no. We spent the next few hours in the gym, stringing up fairy lights and setting up tables. Joe grumbled about the glitter (“It’s going to be stuck to me for weeks”), but he didn’t complain when I handed him another box of decorations.  

At one point, I climbed a ladder to hang a banner, and when I wobbled slightly, Joe was there in an instant, his hands steadying the ladder.  

“Careful,” he said, his voice low.  

I glanced down at him, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the height. “Thanks.”  

He held my gaze for a moment, his hands still gripping the ladder, and I felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us.  

“Anytime,” he said softly.  

By the time we finished, the gym was starting to look like the prom of my dreams. 

The next day, the buzz about prom was everywhere. People were swapping dress ideas, talking about their dates, and sharing excitement about the night that was quickly approaching.  

By lunchtime, I was sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria, flipping through a prom checklist on my phone. Joe was sitting across from me, picking at his fries, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.  

“Are you seriously still doing prom stuff?” Tracy, my best friend, asked as she slid into the seat next to me.  

“Somebody has to,” I said, not looking up.  

“Somebody who isn’t you,” she shot back. “You’re already doing, like, ten other things. Delegation, Y/N. Learn it.”  

“She’s too much of a control freak,” Joe chimed in, smirking at me.  

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m organized, not a control freak.”  

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth.  

“Speaking of prom,” Tracy said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “have you told Joe what color your dress is yet? Or are you going to make him show up looking like a colorblind disaster?”  

I froze, suddenly aware of Joe’s eyes on me. “I—uh—I hadn’t thought about it.”  

“Seriously?” Tracy said, looking between us. “You two are going together, and you haven’t talked about coordinating?”  

“We’re going as friends,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up.  

Tracy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”  

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. Maybe both.  

“Anyway,” I said, trying to change the subject, “what about you? Who are you going with?”  

Tracy grinned. “Brian Harris asked me this morning.”  

My stomach dropped. “He did?”  

“Yep,” she said, clearly oblivious to the way my hands tightened around my phone. “Apparently, you turned him down, so he went with his second choice. And that’s exactly why I don't go out too much, I Said no, I’m going with Sam.”  

“Second choice?” I repeated, the words stinging more than they should have.  

“Oh, don’t get all weird about it,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re going with Joe, so who cares what Brian does?”  

She had a point. I was going with Joe. But why did it feel like I was still losing somehow?  I wasn't surprised about what happened. Couldn't get me, it’s not going to get my best friend either.

JOE BURROW

Sam and Josh , my two closest friends from the football team, were waiting for me by the vending machines after lunch. 

“So,” Sam said as soon as I walked up, following me into the hallway “you’re really going to prom with Y/N, huh?”  

I rolled my eyes, shoving a dollar into the machine. “Yeah. Why?”  

“Because it’s about damn time,” Josh said, leaning against the wall.  

I turned to glare at him, while I took my Kit-kat from the machine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Sam snorted. “Come on, Burrow. Everyone knows you’re crazy about her. You’ve been in love with her since, like, the fifth grade.”  

“That’s not true,” I said automatically, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.  

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why did you almost rip Brian Harris’s head off at practice yesterday when Sam told you he asked her to prom?”  

“That’s different,” I muttered, punching the button for a soda.  

“Sure it is,” Sam said, smirking. “You’re totally not jealous or anything.”  

“I’m not,” I insisted, but the words felt hollow.  

The truth was, I had been jealous. Seeing Brian talk to her, flirt with her, try to take her to prom—it had made me feel like I was seconds away from losing something I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.  

And that scared the hell out of me.  

“She’s my best friend,” I said finally, throwing the paper on the trash. “Exactly,” Carter said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Which is why you need to stop screwing around and tell her how you feel.”  

I didn’t respond, because what was the point? Even if I did tell her how I felt, there was no guarantee she’d feel the same way.  

And if she didn’t?  

I couldn’t risk losing her.  

Y/N

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to go home and collapse. But as I was walking to the parking lot, Tracy caught up with me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I know she was planing something I could feel in tHE air.

“Guess what,” she said, falling into step beside me.  

“What?” I asked, too tired to play along.  

“There’s a group going to that new dress shop downtown tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.”  

I groaned. “Tracy, I already have a dress.”  

“Yeah, but I don’t,” she said, grinning. “And I need moral support. Plus, we need to make sure your dress doesn’t clash with Joe’s suit.”  

I rolled my eyes. “Joe doesn’t care about that stuff.” And It was true. It didn’t matter if I was going with a red dress or blue.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but you do.”  

I hated that she was right.  

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go.” 

The next afternoon, Tracy picked me up for the trip to the new dress shop downtown. The store was buzzing with excited chatter, racks of shimmering gowns lining the walls, and mirrors reflecting endless possibilities.  

Tracy dragged me to the section with bright, glittery dresses that screamed “look at me.” I could tell she was in her element, flipping through racks like a woman on a mission.  

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a strapless red gown with a thigh-high slit.  

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It was too much.

“For you,” she said with a grin. “You’d kill in this.”  

I shook my head. “It’s too much.”  

“Y/N, you’re going to prom with Joe Burrow. You have to make an impression.”  

“I’m already going with him,” I said. “Why do I need to impress him?”  

Tracy shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right? You’re hopelessly in love with the guy, and you don’t think this is your chance to finally make him see it?”  

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze mid-reach for a more modest gown. I didn’t even know what to say. “I—what? I’m not—”  

“Save it,” she said, cutting me off. “You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. So pick something that’ll make his jaw drop.”  

I sighed, knowing there was no point arguing. Tracy wasn’t going to let this go.  

After what felt like hours of trying on dresses, I finally stepped out of the dressing room in a floor-length navy gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace detailing.  

Tracy’s jaw dropped. “That’s the one.”  

I turned to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and the navy color made my skin glow. It was that one, I know that.

“Wow,” I whispered.  

“Joe’s going to lose his mind,” Tracy said with a satisfied grin.  

I didn’t know about that, but for the first time, I felt like I might actually look like someone worth noticing.  

JOE BURROW.

Later that evening, I was sitting in my room, staring at my phone. Sam and Josh's words from earlier in the week were still playing in my head.  

“Tell her how you feel.”  

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It wasn’t that simple.  

Or maybe it was, and I was just a coward.  

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a text from Y/N.  

Y/N:Just finished dress shopping with Tracy. I think I found the one.  

Me: Cool. Send me a pic.  

There was a long pause before she responded.  

Y/N: Nope. You’ll have to wait until prom.  

I frowned at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.  

Me: Not even a sneak peek?  

Y/N: Nope.  

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. She always knew how to keep me on my toes.  

The next morning, Sam and Josh cornered me in the locker room after practice.  

“You figure out your prom look yet?” Josh asked, tossing a towel onto the bench.  

“I’m wearing a suit,” I said flatly.  

Sam snorted. “Wow, groundbreaking.”  

“Do you even know what color she’s wearing?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yeah,” I lied.  

“Bullshit,” Sam said. “You didn’t even ask her, did you?”  

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “No, but I’m sure whatever I pick will be fine.”  

Carter shook his head. “You’re hopeless, man.”  

I’m in Love. It 's different.

Y/N

The week of prom flew by in a whirlwind of final preparations. The committee was meeting every day after school, and by Friday afternoon, the gym was completely transformed.  

I stood in the middle of the room, surveying the decorations with a mix of pride and exhaustion. The fairy lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow over the tables, and the dance floor was ready to go.  

“It looks amazing,” Joe said, walking up behind me.  

“Yeah,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think we pulled it off.”  

“You think?” he teased. “You’ve been running this show since day one.”  

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t just me.”  

“Sure,” he said, smirking.  

For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the committee members packing up around us fading into the background.  

“You’re going to look great tomorrow,” Joe said suddenly, his voice soft.  

I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “You think so?”  

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “I know so.”  

I gave him a smile, and he opened his arms, asking for a hug. I got on my tiptoes, hugging Joe tight while his arms went around my waist.

[...]

The air was electric that morning. The last day of high school had arrived, and it felt like every hallway, every classroom, every moment was buzzing with a mix of nostalgia and excitement. People were signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and talking about their plans for the summer and beyond.  

Even I couldn’t help but smile as I walked to my locker. It was bittersweet, knowing this chapter of our lives was coming to an end.  

“Y/N!” Tracy called out, jogging to catch up with me. She had her camera slung around her neck, determined to document every second of the day.  

“Ready for the waterworks?” I teased.  

“Please, you’re the emotional one,” she shot back, grinning. “Anyway, don’t forget we’re doing a group photo at lunch. You and Joe better be there.”  

“Of course,” I said. “Speaking of Joe, have you seen him?”  

“Probably at his locker, brooding like usual,” Tracy said with a laugh. “Anyway, any big plans for tonight?” she asked, nudging me playfully.

“Just the prom committee meeting,” I said with a laugh. “And then maybe collapsing from exhaustion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need to have more fun, Y/N. Let loose. Do something crazy for once.”

I shook my head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”  

And I heard a voice.

“Y/N!” Joe was striding toward me, his long legs making quick work of the crowded hallway.

“Your shadow approaches,” Tracy whispered with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

“Hey,” I said as he reached me.

“Are you ready for the pep rally?” he asked, leaning casually against the lockers.

“Always,” I said, trying not to smile too hard at the way his hair was slightly tousled from football practice. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, gesturing around us.  

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a shrug.  

“You don’t sound excited.”  

“It’s just a day,” he said, closing his locker.  

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the day, Joe. Our last day of high school. Try to act like it’s a big deal.”  

We walked to the gym together, the noise and chaos of the hallways swirling around us. Everything felt heightened—like we were living in slow motion, with every moment stretched out and glowing.

JOE BURROW.

The pep rally was loud, chaotic, and exactly what it needed to be. Seniors were on fire, shouting chants and tossing confetti in the air like it was the Super Bowl.  

I couldn’t stop glancing at Y/N, though. She was sitting with Tracy and a few other committee members, laughing as they worked on last-minute plans for tomorrow’s prom.  

She looked happy—really happy—and it hit me like a punch to the gut.  

I wasn’t the only one who noticed her, either.  

Brian Harris, the basketball player who’d been hovering around her all week, kept glancing in her direction.  

“Man, you have to do something.” Sam said to me, loud enough for me to hear him on top of the school band chant’s. I looked over at him, still seeing Brian smiling to Y/N, and I don’t know, I’m almost sure that she’s not comfortable.

JOE: you good?

I said in my message. Saw her opening her phone, but she didn’t text me back.

“He invited her that day, as soon as you steped back to class.” Josh said as well, looking at Brian ans Y/N.

“She is independent, can be with anyone she wants.”

“And you want that, Burrow?”

Sam asked me, and before I could respond to him, he was running back to our friends. By the time the rally ended, my mood had gone from celebratory to sour.  

By the time lunch rolled around, my patience was wearing thin. The day was supposed to be perfect—our last day as seniors, with Y/N by my side—but Brian Harris was determined to ruin it.  

I saw him hanging around her at the pep rally, throwing those cocky smiles her way like he thought she’d actually fall for it.  

And the worst part? She’d smiled back.  

It wasn’t the same smile she gave me, though. Hers was polite, almost distracted, but it still made my chest tighten.  

I knew Brian wasn’t going to back off, and the thought of him getting even one step closer to her made my blood boil.  

Y/N

Y/N

The last day of high school felt magical in a way that I couldn’t quite put into words. The hallways were alive with laughter, and the air was thick with excitement and nostalgia. Everything about the day seemed to shimmer—the sunlight streaming through the windows, the fresh breeze that wafted through open doors, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.  

It was hard to believe this chapter of our lives was ending. Every smile, every hug, every glance at the crowded hallways felt like a snapshot I wanted to hold onto forever.  

But beneath the sparkle of it all, I couldn’t shake the tension I’d felt since the pep rally. Joe had been quieter than usual. He was there, walking me to class and teasing me like always, but something was… off.

“See you at lunch?” I asked.  

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now.  

But there was something in his eyes that made me pause.  

“Joe—”  

“Go,” he said, forcing a small smile. “You’ll be late.”  

I didn’t push him, though. Joe wasn’t the kind of person you were forced to talk to. He’d tell me what was on his mind when he was ready.  

Or so I thought.

I was walking with Tracy to the cafeteria when I heard someone call my name.  

“Y/N!”  

I turned to see Brian Harris jogging toward me, that signature smug grin plastered across his face.  

“Hey,” he said, stopping a little too close.  

“Uh, hey,” I replied, glancing at Tracy, who raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.  

“I was wondering if you’d thought about the prom thing.” he said, leaning against the lockers like he owned the place.  

I blinked. “Oh, um… I’m going with Joe. I told you that already.”  

Brian’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “Right, the football star. But, you know, if you want a real man to take you, I’m available. Joe’s it’s just a football player like every single other one, He’s going to fuck you and forget your name right after.”  

I froze, my stomach twisting in discomfort. “Excuse me?”  

“You’re too pretty to waste your time on a guy like that,” Brian said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I’d show you a better time, Y/N. You deserve someone who can actually keep up with you, ‘ya know? Not that bullshit.”  

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.  

“What the hell did you just say?”  

JOE BURROW.  

The second I saw Brian cornering her, my body moved before I even realized what I was doing.  

I knew that look on his face. It was the same one he used to intimidate guys on the court, and it made my blood run hot.  When I heard what he’d said to her—when I saw the way her face twisted in discomfort—I saw red.  

“You got something to say about me, Harris?” I said, stepping between him and Y/N.  

Brian smirked, crossing his arms. “Relax, Burrow. I’m just saying the truth. She deserves better than some meathead quarterback.”  

“Back off,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.  

“Or what?” Brian challenged, his grin widening.

I glanced at Y/N out of the corner of my eye. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to disappear.  

“You’re pathetic,” I snapped at Brian. “You don’t even know her.”  

“And you do?” he shot back, laughing. “What are you, her guard dog? Or just her backup plan when no one else asks her out?  You afraid cause I can fuck her better dan you do?”

That was it.  

Before I even thought about it, my fist collided with his jaw.  

I barely felt Brian’s punch. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and all I could think about was wiping that smug grin off his face.  

The hallway erupted into chaos as people gathered around, shouting and gasping.  

Y/N 

“Joe!” I shouted, shoving my way through the crowd.  

Brian staggered back, clutching his face, and then lunged at Joe.  

Teachers swarmed the hallway, pulling them apart before Brian could land a punch.  

“You’re insane!” Brian yelled, glaring at Joe as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.  

“Better insane than a creep,” Joe shot back, his chest heaving.  

The teachers dragged them off in opposite directions, and I stood frozen, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened.  

I burst into the principal’s office, my heart racing.  

When I pushed open the door to the office, Joe was sitting in one of the chairs, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his eye. He looked up when I walked in, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. His lip was cut, and his knuckles were red, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry.  

“What were you thinking?” I demanded, walking over to him.  

He shrugged. “Brian deserved it.”  

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You know you’re going to have a black eye at prom, right?”  

He smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a way that made my heart stutter. “You think it’ll match my suit?”  

I rolled my eyes, but my expression softened as I crouched beside him.  

“Let me see,” I said, gently pulling the bag of peas away.  

His eye was already starting to swell, the skin around it an angry shade of red.  

I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Joe.”  

“Yes, I did,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.  

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, impulsively, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the uninjured part of his cheek.  

“For good luck,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.  

Joe froze, his gaze locked on mine. My heart raced like a roller coaster.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost affectionate.  

“You’re an idiot,” I shot back, standing up.  

He grabbed my wrist before I could step away, his fingers warm against my skin.  

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low.  

“For what?”  

“For being you,” he said simply.  

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.  

“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a hug.  

I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He buried his face against my side, his grip firm but not overwhelming.  I felt my skiing getting hotter and hotter, and I just could smile. My hands went to his hair, my fingers went through his dirty blonde hair. We stayed like that until the principal walked in, but by then, I wasn’t sure I cared about anything else. 

It was just me and him against the world, and nothing else.

[...]

And that was it, it was prom night.

The house smelled like hairspray and perfume, and my room was a disaster zone. Dresses were scattered across the bed, shoes piled in a corner, and makeup brushes lay abandoned on the vanity. Tracy, as usual, was in full control, directing the chaos like she was the queen of prom night.  

“Hold still, Y/N!” she barked, holding up a curling iron dangerously close to my face.  

“I am holding still!” I protested, wincing as she tugged on another section of my hair.  

Tracy sighed dramatically, stepping back to examine her work. “Okay, that’s better. You’re going to look so good tonight. Joe’s going to lose his mind.”  

I rolled my eyes, pretending the mention of his name didn’t send my stomach into a flutter. “It’s just prom, Tracy. Not a wedding.”  

She smirked. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. One day you’re going to marry him.”  

Those words echoed in my mind, like a prophecy. Marriage, Joe, his last name. I felt like a little girl dreaming big.

Deep down, I knew she was half right. Prom wasn’t just another night. It was the last big event of high school, the last chance for everything unsaid to finally come to the surface. And with Joe… there was a lot to say.  

JOE BURROW.  

I couldn’t stop pacing.  

The suit felt too stiff, the tie too tight, and my reflection in the mirror wasn’t doing much to calm my nerves. The bruise under my eye had turned a deep shade of purple overnight, standing out against my pale skin like a neon sign.  

“You look ridiculous,” Sam said, lounging on my bed with his arms behind his head. “Like someone punched you in the face or something.”  

I glared at him. “Shut up.”  

“Relax, man,” he said, grinning. “Y/N doesn’t care what you look like. She’s already obsessed with you.”  

“Y/N’s not obsessed with me,” I muttered, adjusting my tie for the tenth time.  

“Right,” Sam said, dragging out the word. “And you’re not obsessed with her either.”  

“I’m not.”  

“Then why’d you deck Brian Harris yesterday?”  

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t answer.  

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, sitting up. “Look, just tell her how you feel tonight. It’s prom. You’re supposed to be a little dramatic.”  

I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. “You make it sound so easy.”  

My mom’s voice got into my ears, from downstairs, screaming at us saying that Josh got there with his mom’s eight places SUV.

“Because it is,” Sam said, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. “Now come on. Let’s go pick her up.”  

Y/N

The knock on the door sent a ripple of nerves through me.  

“Y/N, they’re here!” my mom called from downstairs.  

Tracy gave me a final once-over, her eyes narrowing in approval. “You look perfect. Now go knock him dead.”  

I smoothed down the front of my dress, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.  

When I saw Joe standing in the entryway, my breath caught. He looked… incredible. The black suit fit him perfectly, and even with the bruise under his eye, he somehow managed to look like he’d stepped out of a movie.  

He looked up as I descended the stairs, his mouth parting slightly as his eyes locked on me.  

“Wow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

I blushed, smiling nervously. “Hi.”  

“You look…” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”  

“Thanks,” I said softly, my heart pounding. “You look pretty good yourself.”  

He grinned, and for a moment, everything else faded away. My heart was beating so fast… It was crazy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his arm.  

“Yeah,” I said, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s do this.”  

JOE BURROW.  

The ride to prom was a blur of nerves and stolen glances. Y/N was sitting beside me, her dress shimmering under the streetlights, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to tell her the truth.  

That I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember.  

That seeing her with anyone else felt like a punch to the gut.  

That she was the only reason high school had meant anything to me at all.  

But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck in my throat.  

When we arrived at the venue, the place was already packed. Lights twinkle from every corner of the ballroom, and music echoed through the open doors.  

“Come on,” Y/N said, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go find Tracy before she starts texting me a thousand times.”  

I followed her inside, my chest tightening as I watched her weave through the crowd with that familiar confidence. She belonged here, in the center of it all, surrounded by laughter and light. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was just lucky to be standing next to her.  

We walked through a crowd of teenagers, everyone stopping Y/N to say that the place was awesome. I was holding her hand, walking behind her and letting her set the pace.

“I’m not finding Brian.” She said, the happiness palpable in her voice.

I gave her a smile. “Cause tonight is your night.”

Y/N  

Prom was everything I’d hoped it would be. The decorations, the music, the energy—it all felt like a dream, but even as I danced with my friends and laughed at Tracy’s terrible attempts at doing the cha-cha slide, my attention kept drifting back to Joe.  

He was standing by the punch table, talking to Sam and a couple of his football buddies, but every so often, his eyes would find mine across the room.  

And every time they did, my heart skipped a beat.  

“You should just go for it,” Tracy said, nudging me.  

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pretending not to know exactly what she meant.  

“Joe,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically glowing every time you look at him.”  

I glanced at him again, my stomach doing flips.  

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I asked quietly.  

Tracy gave me a knowing smile. “Trust me, Y/N. He does.”  

“How–”

“Babe, he walks you to your car everyday, even when he has practice. He’s your pair in chemistry cause he found out you're not that good. He just use his cologne cause you like it. That guy has been in love with you for ages. Go.

But as I walked to meet me, he came down my direction.

JOE BURROW.

By the time the slow songs started playing, I couldn’t take it anymore.  

“Do you want to dance?” I asked, walking up to her before I could lose my nerve.  

She looked up at me, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  

I led her to the dance floor, my heart pounding as I rested my hands on her waist. She placed hers on my shoulders, and for a moment, we just stood there, swaying to the music.  

“You having fun?” I asked, my voice quiet.  

She nodded, smiling up at me. “Yeah. Are you?”  

I hesitated, my eyes searching hers. “I think this might be the best night of my life.”  

Her smile faltered slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion.  

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”  

Her grip on my shoulders tightened, and I could see the fear and hope mingling in her eyes.  

“What is it?” she asked softly, looking over my eyes, and my mouth. I almost fainted.

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had.  

“I—”  

The words sat heavy on my tongue, burning to be said, but no matter how much I wanted to just tell her, my chest felt too tight.  Y/N looked at me expectantly, her hands light on my shoulders as we swayed to the music. Her eyes searched mine, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, like she was daring me to break the silence between us.  

But I didn’t.  

“Never mind,” I said, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”  

Her expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of disappointment flashing across her face before she recovered. She gave me a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“You’re acting weird tonight,” she said, her voice teasing but gentle.  

“I’m fine,” I lied.  

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me, but she let it go. “Okay. If you say so.”  

The song ended, and the crowd around us erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N stepped back, her hands falling from my shoulders, and I immediately missed the warmth of her touch.  

“Let’s get some punch,” she said, her tone light as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had been building between us all night.  

I nodded, following her off the dance floor, kicking myself for chickening out again.  

Y/N

Joe was acting so strange, and I couldn’t figure out why. He was quieter than usual, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach twist in knots.  

For a moment on the dance floor, I thought he was going to say something—something important. But then he didn’t, and the moment passed, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.  

I tried to shake it off as we made our way to the refreshment table, but it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest.  

Before I could dwell on it too much, the DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing that it was time to crown the prom king and queen.  

“Oh my god, here we go!” Tracy squealed, bouncing on her heels next to me. “This is my favorite part!”  

The crowd gathered around the stage as the principal took the microphone, holding two glittering crowns in his hands.  

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of your prom king and queen!”  

The room buzzed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile at the energy in the air.  

The principal unfolded a piece of paper and cleared his throat dramatically. “Your 2015 prom king is…” He paused for effect, dragging out the suspense.  

“Joe Burrow!”  

My heart stopped.  

The room erupted into cheers and applause as Joe’s friends pushed him toward the stage. He looked completely shocked, his face turning red as he stumbled forward.  

“Go, Joe!” Sam yelled, clapping him on the back.  

Joe climbed onto the stage, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as the principal placed the crown on his head. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes wide and uncertain, and when his gaze landed on me, I couldn’t help but laugh.  

He looked like he wanted to bolt.  

“And now,” the principal continued, holding up the second crown, “your 2015 prom queen is…”  

I barely had time to register the words before they hit me.  

“Y/N Y/L/N!”  

My jaw dropped.  

Tracy shrieked, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “Oh my god, Y/N! You won!”  

The crowd cheered again, and I felt my cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at me.  

“Go,” Tracy urged, pushing me toward the stage. “Go get your crown!”  

I stumbled forward, my heart racing as I climbed onto the stage. Joe was standing there, still looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening, and when I reached him, he gave me a lopsided smile.  

“Guess it’s our night,” he said softly.  

I laughed nervously, and before I could respond, the principal placed the crown on my head. The crowd roared, and for a moment, I couldn’t think about anything except how surreal this all felt.  

“I voted for you, actually.” He said to me. “Everyone else felt wrong.”

“And now, for the king and queen’s first dance!” the DJ announced, cueing up a slow song.  

My stomach flipped.  

Joe held out his hand, his eyes meeting mine. “Shall we?”  

I hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Let’s do it.”  

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t believe it.  

Of all the people to win prom king and queen, it had to be us.  

The crowd parted as we stepped onto the dance floor, the music soft and slow. I held her close, my hands resting on her waist, and for the first time all night, everything else faded away.  

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “This is… unexpected,” she said, her voice light and teasing.  

I chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah. I guess it is.”  

We swayed to the music, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.  

“You’re a good dancer,” she said, surprising me.  

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied, grinning. “My mom uses me as a pair for her dance classes every wednesday.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a warm rush through me.  

I wanted to say something—anything—that would let her know how I felt. But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck. So instead, I just held her a little closer, hoping she could feel everything I couldn’t say.  

Y/N

Dancing with Joe felt like a dream.  

The music, the lights, the way his hands fit so perfectly on my waist—it was all too perfect, too much.  

And yet, it wasn’t enough.  

I wanted to say something to him, to break the tension that had been building between us all night. But I didn’t know how to start, or what to say.  

So I just smiled, letting myself get lost in the moment.  

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause, and Joe stepped back, his hands lingering on my waist for just a second longer than necessary.  

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise.  

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Tracy grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the chaos of the crowd.  

I glanced back at Joe, my heart aching with everything I didn’t say.  

But the night wasn’t over yet. 

It was hard to believe that prom had ended. We had just been crowned king and queen, dancing beneath the dim lights, and now here I was, stumbling out of the ballroom with Joe, our friends trailing behind us like a pack of wild animals, laughing and shouting.

“I can’t believe you’re the prom queen,” Tracy yelled, her voice echoing in the parking lot. “You deserve it, though. No one shines like you.”

I laughed, the night air cool on my flushed cheeks. “I don’t know about that,” I said, glancing over at Joe who was walking beside me, his hand brushing against mine. My stomach fluttered at the contact, but I didn’t say anything.

The parking lot was chaotic as everyone piled into cars. Tracy, Sam, and the others crammed into one, while Joe and I ended up in another with a few other friends, laughing and joking like it was just another night. But it didn’t feel like just another night. This felt different. This felt like the last time we’d all be together in this way.

“You guys are gonna miss each other so much,” Tracy said, her words a bit slurred. “This is the last time we’re all gonna be together.”

I looked around at everyone—Sam and his crew, Tracy with her beaming smile, and Joe, sitting across from me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. I didn’t want this night to end. It felt like the end of something—something big. 

JOE BURROW.

The night ended up going by in a blur. The prom was exactly what I expected and nothing like I imagined. My crown, which had been placed atop my head in a daze, felt heavier with every passing second. But as I glanced over at Y/N, standing beside me, I realized that tonight wasn't about the crown or the glittering dance floor—it was about the fact that we had both made it here together. 

As soon as the prom ended, everyone piled into cars, the laughter and chaos of the night spilling out into the streets. Tracy and Sam were in the front seats, and the rest of us packed into two cars heading for our usual spot: the 24/7 fast food joint down the street. 

“Best night ever!” Tracy yelled from the front seat, her voice full of excitement and maybe a little too much sugar.

Y/N, sitting next to me, leaned her head back against the seat and sighed. “Honestly, this is the only place I wanted to end up tonight.” 

I glanced at her, a grin tugging at my lips. “It’s perfect, huh?” 

The group of us shuffled into the fast food place, everyone high on adrenaline, and suddenly, the night felt endless. I grabbed a large soda and some fries, and we all sat around, teasing each other, making fun of the awkward moments at prom. It didn’t take long before someone—probably Sam—suggested spiking the punch. 

Y/N was sipping her soda innocently, but I could tell the punch had begun to work its magic. Her eyes were a little glassy, and her giggles were more frequent than usual. I could feel it too. The alcohol had taken over, making everything feel lighter, blurrier. 

After a few more rounds of punch and laughing over ridiculous prom photos, our group decided to walk. No one really wanted the night to end just yet. Y/N and I stumbled a bit, weaving through the streets as we made our way toward my house. It was a warm night, and we walked slowly, the stars twinkling above us, as if everything in the universe had aligned for this very moment.

By the time we made it to the end of the place, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. But I didn’t want to go home yet. Not like this.

“Joe, we’re walking,” Sam said, slurring his words as he jumped out of the car and started heading toward the neighborhood. “Come on! We’re taking the long way back!”

I looked at Y/N, and she just shrugged, smiling. “I’m in,” she said, laughing.

And just like that, we all piled out of the cars and started walking through the dark streets, the cool night air refreshing against our skin as we stumbled down familiar roads.

We walked past houses, the sidewalks empty, the only sounds coming from our group and the occasional rustling of trees. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We just walked and talked, our laughter echoing through the empty streets. It was so easy, so natural, like we had all the time in the world.

At some point, we ended up on my street. My house loomed ahead, warm lights spilling out from the windows. We’d spent so many nights here before, just talking and watching the stars, and tonight felt like no different.

I led Y/N to my backyard, where a small patch of grass sat beneath a canopy of trees, almost tripping on our feet. The stars were clear in the sky, shining brighter than I had ever seen them before. It was like everything was glowing, alive, and the world was just right.

We laid down on the grass, our arms touching, but not quite close enough for me to feel her warmth completely. The alcohol from the punch made everything fuzzy, the stars spinning above us. My thoughts were scattered, my words slow, but somehow it all felt peaceful.

She was lying beside me, her hand resting on her stomach, her eyes on the sky. I could feel her breath in the air, feel her presence beside me. And in that moment, I realized how much I didn’t want this night to end.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quiet as I stared at the stars.  

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little deeper than usual, probably from the alcohol. “It’s crazy how small we are, you know? It’s like everything else fades away.”

My body felt heavy with the weight of everything I had left unsaid. The way I felt about her. The way she made me feel every time she was near.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight, Joe,” She whispered.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Y/N.” There was a slight hesitation in my voice. A flicker of something I couldn’t place.

The alcohol had taken over, and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The way her voice sounded, the way the world felt too big and too small at the same time—it was all a blur, but one thing was crystal clear: I didn’t want this night to end. I didn’t want her to leave.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of her face in the dim light of the stars. She looked like she was deep in thought, her lips slightly parted. There was something about the way she looked at me, something that made my heart race and my stomach twist.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even hesitate. I just leaned toward her, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, everything else melted away. The world stopped spinning, and all that mattered was her. Her taste, the way her lips felt against mine, the way she kissed me back as if she’d been waiting for this moment too.

It was like time didn’t exist. Like it was just the two of us, under the stars, finally doing what we had both wanted to do for so long.

When we pulled away, breathless and dizzy from the kiss, neither of us said anything. We just laid there, looking up at the sky, the stars blurring into streaks of light as our minds swirled.

The night ended with a haze, the kiss lingering in my mind but slowly fading as the alcohol wore off. The stars were still shining, but everything felt a little more distant now.

I couldn’t remember exactly how we got back to the house, how we ended up on my couch, or how we fell asleep, side by side. But when I woke up the next morning, my mind was foggy, my lips still tingling, and the memory of the stars felt far away.

I could remember nothing about last night.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-one: The Distance Between Us

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 21 | next

Series Masterlist

The night felt different after the incident with the panther mask. The sharp edges of tension that had once crackled between you and In-ho now simmered quietly beneath the surface, but something was shifting. You could feel it—he wasn’t pulling away in the way he had before, but there was something else. Something unspoken. He had changed after that moment of confrontation. It wasn’t just about the panther anymore, it was about you—and about him.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the room heavy with silence. In-ho had barely spoken since the two of you returned to the suite. The brief moments of calm, of connection that had once sparked between you, had started to feel distant, like they belonged to someone else.

You didn’t know when it had happened—when the distance had crept in—but now it felt like something had shifted irrevocably. The softness in his gaze, the way he’d brushed your cheek earlier, the almost unguarded way he held you as the panther’s presence had loomed—those moments had been real, but they felt like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. You had almost convinced yourself that he was beginning to let go, that maybe, just maybe, he was opening up to the idea of letting you in.

But tonight, it felt like he was closing off again.

You turned toward his side of the bed, only to find it empty. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of his movements on the other side of the suite. You didn’t need to look to know he wasn’t asleep. You could feel it—his restless energy had filled the room, and you could sense the way he was holding something back.

You sat up, pulling the blanket off your shoulders as you slipped out of bed and padded across the room. The lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the room, but even in the near-darkness, you could see the tension in his shoulders as he stood by the window, staring out into the night.

“In-ho?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room.

He didn’t answer right away. The seconds ticked by in silence as you stepped closer, the weight of the moment settling heavily between you.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice strained, distant. “Go back to sleep.”

You stopped just short of him, your gaze tracing the lines of his back. Something in his tone made your chest tighten, a small flare of concern igniting in you. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was something more to this, something you weren’t seeing.

“You’re not fine,” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “In-ho, you’ve been… distant. Ever since that night. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can feel it. What’s happening?”

He didn’t respond right away, his hands gripping the windowsill as though he were trying to hold onto something—anything. The silence between you felt like it stretched for miles.

Finally, he turned, his gaze meeting yours for the first time since you’d entered the room. His eyes were darker than usual, almost pained. “You don’t understand,” he said, the words heavy, as if they were forced out of him.

You frowned, stepping closer, your heart pounding. “What don’t I understand? In-ho, please… talk to me. You’re shutting me out, and I don’t know why.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t know what it’s like,” he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. To lose her… to lose a part of yourself in the process.”

Your breath caught, the air around you suddenly feeling thick with the weight of his confession. You knew about his wife and the child they had lost, the death that still haunted him. But hearing him say it, so raw, made something tighten deep inside you.

“I do know, In-ho,” you said quietly, your voice soft but insistent. “I know you’re still hurting. But I’m not asking you to forget her, or to replace her. I’m here. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you thought he might let you in. That brief flicker of vulnerability you’d seen before was there again, but it quickly faded behind a wall of coldness.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something that felt almost like shame. “I can’t… I can’t love you like this. I’m not whole. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. And I’m afraid that if I let myself… if I let you get too close, I’ll lose you the same way I lost her. And I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

His words cut through you, each one heavier than the last. The air in the room felt suffocating, and you took a step back, as though trying to process the weight of what he’d said. You could feel the struggle inside him—this deep, internal war that kept him locked in the past, unable to move forward.

“In-ho,” you whispered, your voice shaking just a little, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you. I am with you. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

He stood there, silent, his back to you once again as he tried to mask the turmoil behind the mask of indifference.

“I can’t do this right now,” he said abruptly, his voice hardening again, like a shield descending between you. “I need space. I… I have to go. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Before you could protest, before you could try to convince him that you understood, he moved quickly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading toward the door. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but the words got stuck in your throat. There was nothing more you could say.

He paused at the door, his hand on the handle, but he didn’t turn around. “I’ll be back later,” he said in a voice that held no trace of the warmth it had once had. “I just… I need to clear my head.”

And with that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him with a quiet finality that left you standing alone in the middle of the room. The silence felt oppressive now, the air thick with the weight of what had just transpired. You could still feel the echo of his words hanging in the air, the finality in his tone.

You didn’t know when he would come back. Or if he would come back with the same look in his eyes.

But you knew one thing: In-ho was still fighting. Fighting against what he felt, fighting against what he needed, and fighting against you. And right now, there was nothing you could do but wait.

This version stays true to the evolving dynamic between you and In-ho, where the closeness is still there, but his fear of losing you—and his unresolved grief—leads him to pull back. The emotional tone of Chapter 20 is carried forward, where there’s a real bond forming, but with In-ho’s unresolved trauma and hesitations still holding him back.

———————

Chapter twenty-one!! Woops they’re back to being distanced… I couldn’t let them be happy this easily lol. As always lemme know what you think! Thank you!

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[pinklotushere]

Five times someone was flustered by nightwing, and the one time it was by dick grayson

That is not to say dick doesn't charm people,he absolutely does, I just think nightwing is very different from dick if you know what I mean, he's got a certain charm that makes me want to rip my heart out and offer it to him

1

The café was dimly lit, its neon “Open Late” sign buzzing softly in the quiet Blüdhaven night. A handful of customers sipped their drinks in peace until the door slammed open, and a masked mugger stormed in, waving a gun.

“Everyone down! Empty the register!” he barked, his voice jittery.

The young barista froze, fumbling with the cash drawer as the customers cowered behind tables. Her hands shook so badly that coins clattered to the floor.

“Move faster!” the mugger yelled, slamming his hand on the counter.

“Maybe try saying ‘please,’” a voice quipped from above.

The mugger spun around just in time to see Nightwing drop from the rafters, landing with feline grace.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“its a cafe,” he said, twirling his escrima sticks. “And you’re ruining coffee night, pal.”

The mugger lunged, but Nightwing dodged easily, knocking the gun out of his hand with a sharp crack. A quick sweep of the leg sent the man sprawling, and within seconds, he was zip-tied to a chair.

The barista stared, wide-eyed, as Nightwing approached her. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, brushing a curl from her face. “Thanks, Hot—uh, Nightwing. Sorry, I didn’t mean—"

“Hotwing, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “That’s a new one.”

Her face turned scarlet. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that out loud!”

“Relax,” he said, chuckling as he adjusted his escrima stick on his back and took a peek at her nametag. “Emily, right? You’re good under pressure. Just maybe work on the nicknames.”

She managed a laugh as he turned toward the door. “Thanks again!”

“Anytime,” he called back, disappearing into the night.

2

The apartment building glowed orange against the midnight sky, flames devouring the upper floors. Sirens blared as firefighters scrambled to douse the inferno, but a group was trapped on the fifth floor, coughing and struggling to find an escape.

“Hang tight!” a voice called through the smoke.

The firefighters looked up to see Nightwing emerging from a shattered window, his silhouette framed by the flickering firelight.

“Everyone still breathing?” he asked, scanning the room.

“Yeah, but we’re trapped!” one of the firefighters said. “Ceiling came down behind us!”

“Not a problem.” Nightwing fired his grappling hook, securing it to a stable beam. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As he helped the first firefighter across the rope line, the man stammered, “Holy crap, you’re really Nightwing! I—uh—I’m a huge fan!”

“Appreciate it,” Nightwing said, steadying him. “Now focus on not looking down, okay?”

Once they were all safely outside, the fanboy firefighter turned to his team, still buzzing with excitement.

“Did you see him? He’s even cooler in person!”

The others burst into laughter, and Nightwing, perched on a nearby ledge, called down, “You’re making me blush.” He gave a two-fingered salute before disappearing into the shadows.

3

The moonlight filtered through the trees of Blüdhaven Park, casting long, eerie shadows. Nightwing had just subdued a thief when he noticed someone sitting on a bench nearby, illuminated by the soft glow of a portable lamp.

The young woman was sketching furiously, glancing up at him every few seconds. When she realized he’d spotted her, she froze, her pencil hovering mid-air.

“Nice night for art,” Nightwing said, strolling over.

“Uh… yeah,” she stammered, clutching her sketchpad like a shield.

“What are you working on?”

She hesitated, then flipped the pad around to show him. The drawing captured him mid-leap, his escrima sticks glowing, his movements frozen in perfect, exaggerated detail.

“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “That’s incredible.”

“You think so?” she asked, her cheeks reddening. “I thought I might’ve overdone it…”

He tilted his head, studying the sketch. “Maybe a bit on the muscles, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

She laughed nervously. “Artistic choice?”

“Exactly.” He smiled. “You’ve got talent. Keep at it."

“Thanks,” she said softly.

As he turned to leave, she called out, “Wait! Can I give this to you?”

“Sure,” he said, accepting the sketch. “But only if you sign it. Gotta keep it authentic.”

Her face lit up as she scribbled her name at the bottom. He gave her a wink before vanishing into the night.

4

The clinic was quiet, its fluorescent lights flickering against the darkened windows. Nightwing leaned against the counter, holding a hand over the shallow cut on his arm.

“Can I help—oh!” the nurse gasped, nearly dropping her clipboard when she saw him.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t mean to scare you.

“You’re Nightwing!” she blurted, then immediately cringed. “I mean, obviously you’re Nightwing. Sorry! Uh, what do you need?”

“Just a quick patch-up,” he said, lifting his arm. “Nothing too serious.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she grabbed the supplies. “Sit here, please.”

He perched on the exam table, watching as she cleaned the wound. Her hands steady as she worked.

“You sure I’m not making you nervous?” he teased.

“What? No!” she said quickly, then winced. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not every night you stitch up a superhero.”

“Fair point,” he said with a grin.

As she tightened the last stitch, he winced.

“Oh no! Did I hurt you?” she asked, looking horrified.

“Not at all,” he said quickly. “You’re doing great.”

She finished and handed him a lollipop from a nearby jar. “For being brave.”

He laughed, tucking it into his belt. “Thanks, doc. I'll eat it with pride.”

5

The night sky over Blüdhaven was clear for once, the stars twinkling above a rooftop wedding. Strings of fairy lights bathed the intimate gathering in a soft glow, and the bride and groom had just started their first dance when chaos erupted.

Three armed men burst onto the rooftop, shouting orders.

“Hands in the air! Phones and wallets, now!” one of them barked, his gun waving wildly.

Guests gasped, clutching each other in fear. The bride clung to her groom, her veil fluttering in the breeze as she whispered, “What do we do?”

Before anyone could answer, a grappling hook hissed through the air.

“Sorry to crash your party,” Nightwing said as he swung in, landing right between the thugs and the wedding party. “But I’m not a fan of uninvited guests.”

The first thug lunged, but Nightwing dodged with ease, disarming him in a heartbeat. The second went for his gun, only to get an escrima stick to the wrist. By the time the third thug turned to run, Nightwing had already tripped him with a spin-kick.

The bride and groom stared, wide-eyed, as Nightwing zip-tied the men and turned back to the guests.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, brushing off his gloves.

The bride stepped forward, her dress shimmering in the light, face slightly flushed “We are, thanks to you. You saved our wedding!”

“Glad I could help,” Nightwing said, his grin warm. He glanced at the decorations. “Nice setup, by the way. Love the string lights.”

“Stay for cake?” the groom asked, half-joking, his face suspiciously warm.

Nightwing chuckled. “Tempting, but I’m on the clock. Congrats, though!”

As he turned to leave, the bride called after him, “Wait! At least let us take a photo! You’re part of our night now."

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright, but just one.”

The guests quickly gathered, and someone snapped the shot: the bride and groom in the centre, with Nightwing standing behind them, his arms crossed, and a playful smirk on his face.

“Thanks again,” the bride said as Nightwing stepped back.

“Anytime,” he replied, disappearing into the shadows.

+1

The mall was bustling with weekend shoppers, the hum of conversation, and the jingling of a carousel filling the air. Dick was taking a rare day off, dressed casually in jeans and a leather jacket, sipping a coffee as he strolled through the crowd.

A small voice caught his attention.

“mama? Mama?”

Dick turned to see a little girl standing near a fountain, clutching a stuffed bunny to her chest, her wide eyes brimming with tears. She couldn’t have been older than five.

“Hey there,” he said gently, crouching to her level. “You lost?”

She nodded, sniffling. “I can’t find my mommy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Dick said with a reassuring smile. “What’s your name?”

“Lila,” she whispered.

“Hi, Lila. I’m Dick.” He held out his hand, and she took it hesitantly. “Now, let’s go find your mom. Do you remember what she was wearing?”

“A pink sweater,” Lila said, clutching his hand tightly as they weaved through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before Dick spotted a frantic-looking woman near the food court, scanning the area with wide eyes.

“Lila!” the woman called, relief flooding her face as she spotted them. She rushed over, dropping to her knees to hug her daughter tightly. “Oh my goodness, I was so worried!”

“Mama!” Lila cried, wrapping her arms around her mother.

The woman looked up at Dick, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would’ve done if—” She cut of, suddenly realizing who he was.

“You’re… Dick Grayson?” she asked, her eyes widening.

Dick laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s me. I’m just glad I could help.”

The woman’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I… uh… Wow, okay. Thank you. Really. You’re—uh—taller in person.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly playful. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She laughed nervously, still flustered. “I didn’t mean to—sorry! I’m a little overwhelmed."

“No need to apologize,” he said warmly. “I’m just glad Lila’s safe.”

“Thank you again,” she said, glancing between him and her daughter. “You’re a real hero.”

Dick gave a small wave to Lila, who beamed up at him. “You’re welcome. Stay close to your mom, okay?”

“I will!” Lila said, hugging her bunny tightly.

As Dick walked away, the woman muttered under her breath, “Of course he’s ridiculously nice, too.” She shook her head, still blushing, as she scooped up her daughter and headed home.

[helloeverybodyhere]

Melody in the Afternoon

Summary: Harry is stuck on a song, but his girlfriend Y/N, who also writes music, comes over to help. A cozy afternoon turns into a heartfelt moment of connection.

The autumn sunlight filtered through the curtains of Harry’s cozy London flat, casting warm golden light over the living room. Papers were scattered across the floor—pages filled with half-written lyrics and scratched-out ideas. Harry sat in the middle of the chaos, his guitar balanced on his knee and a frustrated crease between his brows.

He strummed the same chord progression over and over, muttering under his breath. “What are the bloody words?”

The front door clicked open, and Harry looked up, his frustration melting into a smile as Y/N walked in. She was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a familiar tote bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, love,” she called out, kicking off her shoes by the door. “Still stuck?”

Harry set his guitar aside and got up to meet her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You have no idea. I’ve written five different verses, and none of them are right.”

Y/N smiled as she put the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Good thing I’m here, then.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small box. “Brought you something to fuel your creativity.”

“What’s this?” Harry asked, peering into the box to find pastries from his favorite bakery.

“Your favorite almond croissant,” she said with a grin, “and a latte. Thought you might need it.”

Harry pulled her into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “You’re a lifesaver.”

They settled on the floor together, surrounded by his scattered papers. Y/N sat cross-legged beside him, picking up one of the discarded pages and scanning the lines. “You’ve got some good stuff here,” she said, pointing to a verse. “But this part doesn’t flow with the melody.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, running a hand through his curls. “It’s driving me mad.”

Y/N picked up a pen and started scribbling on a fresh sheet of paper. “Okay, let’s start fresh. What are you trying to say with this song?”

Harry leaned back against the sofa, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “It’s about moments slipping away. You know, time moving too fast, not being able to hold on to everything.”

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “That’s beautiful. So maybe focus on a specific memory—something personal.”

“Like…” Harry hesitated. “Like us?”

She looked up at him, her expression warm. “Yeah. Like us.”

For the next hour, they worked together, their heads close as they traded ideas. Harry strummed the melody on his guitar while Y/N jotted down lyrics, occasionally breaking into laughter when one of them came up with something ridiculous.

“‘Time is a thief, stealing moments from me’?” Y/N teased, giggling. “You’re getting a bit dramatic there, Shakespeare.”

“Oi, it’s a work in progress,” Harry said, feigning offense as he leaned over to nudge her shoulder. “You’re the one who told me to get personal.”

Eventually, the song started to take shape, the lyrics weaving together effortlessly with the melody. Harry played the completed verse, his deep, velvety voice filling the room. Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his knee.

When he finished, Harry set his guitar down and looked at her. “That’s it. That’s the one.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “It’s perfect.”

Harry cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, leaning into his touch. “It’s your song, H. I just helped a little.”

“No,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You make everything better.”

The two of them stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the autumn sun began to set outside the window. The room was quiet except for the faint strumming of Harry’s guitar and the soft sound of their laughter, their love woven into every note.

[dreameyess11]

Cold cold man

Tangerine x Reader

You’ve always known Tangerine was different. The first time you met him, his eyes bore into you with an intensity that felt like it could shatter glass. He had a way of making silence heavy, a tangible thing that pressed against your chest. Yet, even then, you felt something beneath his cold demeanor—a flicker of warmth that refused to burn brightly but never quite went out.

Tangerine isn’t like other people, not the kind who showers you with flowery words or makes grand gestures. Instead, his love is quiet, hidden in the spaces between his sharp edges. It’s there in the way he listens, the way he notices things most wouldn’t—like how you always fidget with your ring when you’re nervous or how you hum to yourself when you think no one’s watching. He never says anything about it, never makes a point of it, but he remembers.

You wish, sometimes, that he could be easier, softer. You wish he’d hold your hand in public or tell you how beautiful you look without needing to be prompted. But that’s not Tangerine. His compliments, when they come, are rare and understated.

“Nice dress,” he’ll mutter, barely looking at you. But you know it’s his way of saying you’re breathtaking.

His coldness isn’t cruelty—it’s just who he is. And you’ve learned to read between the lines. You’ve learned to see the way his hand brushes yours, just slightly, when you walk side by side. How he’ll stand a little closer to you when the room feels too big, too loud. How, in the middle of the night, when he thinks you’re asleep, his fingers will trace patterns on your arm, feather-light and reverent.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch together, the TV playing some show neither of you is really watching. He’s quiet, as always, his expression unreadable. But then, out of nowhere, he speaks.

“I’m not good at this,” he says, voice low and rough.

“At what?” you ask, turning to him.

“This,” he gestures vaguely between you two. “Us. Love. I’m not good at showing it.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone. “You don’t have to be perfect at it, Tan. I don’t need big gestures or constant reminders. I just need you.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, you swear you see something crack in him. “I know I’m a cold man,” he says softly. “But you make me want to be better. Even if I’m slow, even if I don’t always say the right things. I want to try. For you.”

It’s the most he’s ever said about his feelings, and it takes your breath away. You reach out, placing your hand over his. His fingers are stiff at first, hesitant, but then they relax, curling around yours.

“I don’t need you to be anything but yourself,” you whisper. “That’s enough for me.”

And for the first time, Tangerine smiles—not a big smile, but a small, genuine curve of his lips that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it’s for you.

In that moment, you realize that Tangerine’s love may not be easy or loud, but it’s real. It’s in every quiet gesture, every small act of care, every unspoken word. And for you, that’s more than enough.

[thedissonantverses]

5 or 17 for the Rook story time ask game!

Thank you so much for asking and for making the game!! You work so hard to make the community a better place and I appreciate you so much! @operative-arrow and @biowaredisasterbisexual I was so tempted to do 5 more than once but I gotta like chill hahahah so gonna do it here! The Rook Storytime Ask if anyone is interested! It's really good!!

5. Rook being seriously ill(I decided to set this in the time Rook was traveling with Varric and Harding for my AU consider it a bonus scene:

Her fever spiked again. Harding mopped her forehead, and she closed her eyes.

"If you want to tell me I told you so, now is the time." Rook tried to smile, and Harding shook her head.

"This isn't your fault. He didn't mean it. He's just worried."

Varric couldn't seem to stand being in the room he'd rented at the inn just for Rook to get better. She hated it, laying her on his dime, all because she'd wanted to pursue the lead they'd had. Whatever she'd caught had torn through her. She was seeing two of Harding then one. Time had lost all meaning. All there were her chattering teeth and aching joints and the fire licking her skin. Harding sighed.

"You're getting better. You are. I just need to you to hang on."

Rook reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. "If I don't-"

"Sihu there's no need for-"

"Let me say this. I just need you to know. If I die tell Varric...tell him I didn't care for the last installment of Shields and Sorcerers. It wasn't his best work."

"I heard that!" Varric's telltale footsteps reaching the door. He'd brought back another mage, apparently having fired the last one.

Harding blinked. Once. Twice. Then she hit Rook with the rag.

"You boob!"

Rook laughed and then started coughing, laying back on the pillows.

"Fine just send the letter in my bag to my friend-"

"Yes yes. Davrin. We know. You keep saying his name in your sleep."

Rook's turn to start. "I do?"

"You do." Harding laughed. "He must be a really good friend."

Rook huffed closing her eyes as the healer got to work, thinking of her last sickbed. "The best."

17. Rook teaching someone else a skill. (I am tentatively working on a new Davrook AU set in a very different time period in Thedas where they meet as kids so that's what I'm going with here they're about 13)

Davrin missed. The rabbit ran off into the brush. Heat climbed his neck at Rook's laugh. He lowered the bow and glared at her. She had put her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggle. Eldrin let out a bark of laughter and that only made it worse.

"Like you can do better." His voice cracked in his indignation which only made her laugh harder. He started to stalk off to get away from both of them when Rook darted over, picking up the bow. She was like that, quick and flighty, never in one spot. His irritation only grew when she knocked the arrow.

"You're thinking too much." She said primly, aiming towards the lure. She was as scrawny as he was, but she made it look easy, pulling it smoothly.

"She's right you know." Eldrin bit into an apple, chewing loudly, smacking his gums. "Relax."

"Ever think I'm tired from shoveling halla crap all day?" Davrin wasn't sure why he was so angry.

Rook released, handing him the bow. "Oh quit whining. I'm just trying to help!"

"Well you're not!"

"Children settle down. Rook quit showing off. Davrin shut up and listen to her." Eldrin chomped like one of his halla, chewing straight through the core.

Davrin grabbed the bow. He lined up, but his hand slipped and he nearly threw it. Rook put her hand over her mouth to show she was listening to Eldrin. Davrin rolled his eyes, relenting.

"Fine. Show me."

[nalyra-dreaming]

Im a different anon. But its something that Ive always been wondering in my mind is what Lestat would do if he met Bruce. On one hand I think he would revenge Claudia but on another hand book Lestat is not vengeful, and always forgive people who absolutely do not deserve it. So I dont know. Maybe show Lestat would kill him, book Lestat would let him go?

Hmm.

In the books no-one hurt Louis or Claudia like that - Armand arguably hurt Nicolas (starvation and chopping his hands off) but Lestat only learned about it when it was too late already and Nicolas had killed himself.

However, and while Lestat is almost too forgiving in the books I do not wholly agree that he is not vengeful.

(Book spoilers!)

In the last books Gabrielle, Marius and Louis get abducted and - supposedly - killed.

Lestat thinks they’re dead. He is as if blinkered, he (and Armand) are in a world of pain.

Lestat decides on an all or nothing move, giving himself up to save the vampires at the chateau - and when he finally goes at the enemy, thinking he‘ll die doing so, he does not listen to reason anymore. He does not listen to words (and that enemy does try to reason with him, negotiate!).

He goes, fire and kill gift, full in. And then feeds on that enemy, and throws the rest of that vampire to the wolves young vampires at the chateau.

Lestat brushes over that, as he often does in the books, it’s one of those “you have to read between the lines“ things.

He kills his enemy, not willing to listen anymore, with the full and final intention of destruction.

To me that reeks of revenge.

And, interestingly enough, it is also something he regrets after, this blind revenge, because it delays the saving of those he loves.

Show Lestat is much harder, much more jaded. Louis‘ narrating him being controlling in the last episodes of s1 is a clear response to the bibles and salt circles, to the mortals knowing about them, making him paranoid. Lestat even spells it out, re the pitch forks and torches.

We have indications already that Armand might have (even) more to do with Nicolas‘ death. The trial… was even worse.

This Lestat will not take that too lightly. Any truce with Armand will have to be hard won and earned, eventually.

And Bruce… who hurt Claudia like Lestat had been hurt?! Which Lestat saw in her eyes immediatelyl?!

Bruce better never cross his path.

[taborc]

phases

[marigraphia]

Hey remember when Kory was a Justice League member with a bangin' costume

[lunarharp]

pretty & cute witch men

[onesnoopyaday]

waiting for the Great Pumpkin

Snoopy #30

31/10/2024

Happy Halloween everyone!

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

This is the one where I first started experimenting with coloring and brushes

[screampied]

❛ BED CHEM! ❜ t. fushiguro + k. nanami

☆ sum. being sandwiched between two of your co-stars during a séx scene sounds like a fever dream. the real fever dream is finding out who you have better bed chemistry with. the sweet blond who always talks you through it or the smug dark haired one who’s constantly stealing your panties.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, actor au, thréesomes, unprotected, semi-public, they eat you out at the same time, cervix mentions, premature ejac, size difference, dirty talk, pússy drunk men, praise, spít roasting, óral (f! & m! receiving), hair pulling, size kinks, bóob fondling, overstim.

“annnnd action.”

you mentally bite your lip, feeling every nerve through your body convulse from your co-stars touches. toji fushiguro and nanami kento—the most current hottest topic, you had this last scene to shoot for a movie you were the lead in. the scene in question was quite raunchy to say the least, both of them take turns to plant soft chaste kisses down both sides of your neck. both signature scents of their colognes were loud, a musk that forevermore wafts against your nose. your eyes flicker toward the camera every so often, trying to stay in character. this was probably the fifth take—you had a bit of a bad habit of missing your lines so there’d be a few retakes. emphasis on few.

“ken, look at her,” toji murmurs, and a gasp merely slips from you once his parted tongue creeps past his lips and onto your neck. his hand slowly trails toward your thigh and he squeezes it. “such a pretty thing. want more, do ya princess?”

you nod as a response but that’s when nanami’s hand gently cups underneath your chin. gingerly, a thumb ghosts by your bottom lip and he speaks sweetly. “ah, now sweetheart. we talked about that, we need a pretty answer from you, not a nod.”

“i- i want more,” you stammer, and as toji’s scarred hands continue to roam down your body, you suck in a keen sharp breath. the air felt substantially thick, mainly due to how all three of you were acting in a big spacey sauna. your hand grabs toji’s wrist and you slowly guide it down between the valley of your legs. the static of his plump shriveled fingertips brush up between the crevices of your thighs and it nearly makes you break character. “i want you both, please.”

“aw,” toji hums hoarsely, his pursed lips forming into a wry grin.

the more their hands ran down every inch of your body, the more your heart beat raced. its thumping quickened, and your thighs forcibly squeeze themselves together. the dark haired male softly creates circles around your thighs with a single digit before speaking breathlessly. “you want both of us, huh. not jus one? that’s bein’ pretty greedy, doll.”

“toji, she can be greedy if she wants,” nanami coos, and you make direct contact with him. .

the nanami kento, you’ve heard a lot about him. him and toji were both hot favored actors but him. actresses would kill to be in your role, kill to be in your shoes.

nanami kento was as smooth as they come.

suave, a gentleman, and of course, a smooth talker. your eyes gawk down his attire and he’s wearing nothing but casual—his sleeves were sexily rolled up and his usually parted blond hair was slightly ruffled and unkempt - most likely due to the growing humidity of the sauna.

tender brown eyes bore into you before he places a kiss near the twitching corner of your mouth. “relax, sweetheart. you’ll get what you want, promise. just be a good girl. can you do that?”

feeling as if your thighs were stuck together by imaginary adhesive glue, you let off a soft panting whine. “y- yes,” and you gasp, watching as toji’s head creeps lower. he’s being slow on purpose, teasing you—wanting for you to long for more, for him to hurry up.

a few bristles of his hair tickles and pokes against your leg before your chin’s softly being grabbed by nanami again.

“ah ah, eyes on me. don’t worry about him, focus just on me sweetheart,” and the two of you lock eyes. nanami’s dimples poke against the left side of his lips and he’s so pretty, he cups your cheek and you instantly lean into his touch. “good girl, get lost in my eyes.”

your mind’s running at such quick speed—it’s trying to remember the next parts of the script as they continue the foreplay. nothing could really be heard except for nanami’s gruff low voice and the faint whirring inside of the sauna.

the next scene, nanami would lean in for a kiss and toji would eat you out. you remember looking over the filthy script many months ago before you even landed the roll.

as your eyes would skim through every word, the explicit dialogue—the mannerisms they’d perform on you, a school of swarming butterflies would pour inside the pits of your stomach.

and now, it’s finally here.

it’s as if time stood still once nanami starts to lean in, closing the awkward distance between you two. once his lips gently crash onto yours, it’s as if your heart stopped for a minute. tender, passionate, and open-mouthed.

your head slightly tilts as you part your lips wider to give him access. nanami lowly groans in your mouth, tasting your syrupy saliva tangle against his own. “mhm,” and every few seconds, loud echoing smacks would slam against both lips. he tastes minty, but on his tongue you could also taste a bit of alcohol lingering on his breath. it’s sweet, and you wanted more. whilst his tongue’s being shoved down your throat, toji scoffs. he’s propped right up between your legs and you feel his big wide hands spread your thighs more.

a nonplus gasp leaves your lips at his roughly gentle touch — your body can’t help but grind against nanami, wrapping an arm and tossing it over his shoulder. “fuck,” you speak between sultry hot kisses, another one of your hands running down the bare slit part of his exposed chest. there, you’re met with a few curls of blond chest hair. you twirl it around with your finger and he groans in your mouth at your touch. back to toji, he starts slow. he creates sloppy wet licks and kisses that trail all down from your waist until he’s finally near your shorts.

��watch that mouth of yours,” toji utters, hot breath ghosting between your thighs.

he’d get closer and closer, closer until he’s just inches away from your the pretty fabric that sticks against your skin. verdant green eyes peer into the cloth that’s attached to your panties and he hums. “cute,” he rasps, pulling down the hem of your shorts for a quick inside peek. “looks like you remembered to wear panties this time after all. somebody’s learnin’, heh.”

“toji, stop teasing me,” your breath hitches, feeling nanami pull away to kiss near your neck once more. he was so gentle, curling his tongue around that sweet spot buried right near the inside of your neck and it makes you oh so weak.

toji just gives you a sly deadpans at you needy comment, slowly pulling down your denim bedazzled shorts.

with a scoff, he tugs on your panties with his teeth. “nah,” and with the fabric in his mouth, his words were a bit muffled. “dunno what’s the point of wearing these stupid things since ‘m jus gonna steal them again anyway.”

a breath gets lodged in your throat once nanami starts to suck against your neck, his teeth gingerly grazing against your skin. his breath was always so warm, every time it sets against your bare flesh you moan. as your glossy eyes ogle down back at nanami, you huff with a cute frustrated expression. your eyebrows knit and compress together and you merely whine. “just hurry the fuck up,” and your neck starts to lean back a bit. with both men having their hands on you—you weren’t sure how long you’d last.

constantly, you had to keep reminding yourself, it’s just a movie, it’s just another scene. .

or is it?

you’re entrapped inside of your thoughts, fully forgetting that you’re on film. as you’re in a temporary fantasm—you bite your lip before a clammy hand finds its way through toji’s shaggy ravened strands. instantaneously, black tresses entwine between your silvery fingers and you moan. he lays his tongue flat, teasingly lapping near the center part of your panties.

fuck, you’ve read over his parts specifically at least a dozen times and knew what he had to do during this scene but you didn’t expect it to feel this good.

toji’s breath was balmy, slow breaths whirl and fan against your clit that’s just barely being protected by the string of your panties.

nanami’s sloppy kisses trail down toward your chest and oh, you felt like you were floating. “poor baby’s fuckin’ soaked,” toji snickers as a fat thumb drags down your sopping cunt. he’s so quick that you don’t even realized he pulled down your panties—you don’t even know where they went. probably in his pocket, again. you feel a wave of heat flush over you as you can feel his feral gaze stare into your twitching muscle. “look at my girl’s nasty ‘lil pulse.” he hums, and his tongue does one single beginning lick near your folds. you whine, and his cold tongue as cold as ice. it’s a type of feeling you couldn’t put into words.

“toji, don’t hog her. i want a taste too,” nanami says in a gentle voice. speaking of, nanami could say the most nastiest things and it would still end up coming out like a compliment.

“s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, watching both of them with near half-lidded eyes once you see nanami’s head creep down also.

now, you’re being met with a chilling hungry yet feral gaze. you throbbed even more as you’re sprawled all out against the fragile bench of the sauna. tears of perspiration start to bubble against your skin as the heat gets a bit more thicker. it’s humid, and you don’t know if it was the temp of the sauna or them making you feel hot but you wanted more. your eyes meet them again, and you feel yourself getting more aroused once you realize. . they were both down on their knees for you.

to your left—there’s toji, he’s got the must smug expression. already near the left side of his lip, there’s a few droplets of your honeyed slick coating against his mouth. all from a single lick, you felt embarrassed at how wet you were. it was actually in the script that they would use lube to help you but clearly, you didn’t need it in the slightest. toji’s wearing a burgundy tank top that nearly sticks against his hard toned pecs. he’s so toned, a burly beefy body that looks almost chiseled, stoned. he looks like he’s been literally carved and sculptured from top to bottom. your eyes stare at his broad shoulders, his thick pecs, and even how a few of his black chest hairs pokes out from his shirt.

and then to your right, there’s nanami. a thumb of his slowly makes its way down your drooling salivating cunt and he’s almost in awe.

his pink glossy lips press up towards your entrance before he gives it a soft welcoming kiss. you moan at how delicate he was, and the longing tender stare he constantly gave you merely made your knees buckle. as the humidity rises in the sauna, strands of his hair continue to swelter against his forehead with the help of slimy sweat.

“my, my,” he purrs in a low voice, and they’re both right between your thighs. you couldn’t help but feel a palpitating sensation brew up between your legs. “we’ve got ourselves a wet one, toji.”

“yeah,” the dark haired murmurs, and his eyes narrow. but toji wasn’t fond of sharing - not one bit.

with a piqued eye roll, he leans in to lap his tongue against your pussy once more before nanami follows.

you release a sweet elongated moan you were holding in for the longest - but you remembered you had to be dramatic for the scene — fake.

that was kind of hard considering the blatant fact that yhey were actually making you feel good. but alas, you lazily slouch back against the wooden bench, letting off your best exaggerated moan.

nanami and toji both look at you at the same time and toji refrains himself from bursting out laughing. staying in character, he clears his throat, spanking your cunt. you moan, and your grip against his hair becomes more rough. he feels you yanks forward with a solid tug, grunting, and that’s when you feel nanami’s soft tongue present itself too.

slow, his tongue slowly runs itself against your pulsing clit and your eyes gradually roll themselves back. it’s now to where they’re both lapping up your dripping taste at the exact same time—both sloppy tongues flicking and slithering against your cunt oh, and you were an entire mess. it’s as if they were competing against each other. as they both bury their heads between your thighs, you start to shake, dragging their heads back and forth into your sopping pussy.

with your toes curling and your chest heaving, you mewl out a sweet whine. “oh my g-god,” your voice squeaks out, swallowing your own sheer arousing embarrassment.

their breaths collide against each other and land right on your pussy. so pretty, nanami’s eyes were closed whilst toji’s were wide open. he’s giving you a smug cheeky grin the entire time, using a thumb to occasionally glissade down against your twitching pussy. “damn, taste so sweet,” toji grunts, and you can hear the salacious timbre in his voice. a voice so deep that your thighs vibrate together. fuck, your hands end up delving through each of their strands of hair, tightly pulling them closer towards your pulsating heat.

both hairs curl within your fingers before you pull their faces even closer against your crying cunt, almost suffocating them. “mhm,” toji’s lips nearly glue against your pasty folds.

nanami’s tongue romantically swirls itself around until it reaches near your sweet nub.

that spot - your brain haphazardly haywires and short circuits right away and your knees almost collapse. “fuck, f- fuck ‘ken.” you gasp, dragging his head up. once you do, you’re met with a sleazy smile—he’s pussy drunk. it takes you a minute to realize maybe he’s not being in character anymore. nanami’s dimple still prods against both sides of his cheeks before he leans down, spitting right against your cunt.

“go on, ‘toj. lick it up since you wanna be greedy,” nanami playfully titters, running a hand through his hair just so he could touch your fingers.

toji’s shooting vexed daggers toward the blond before he’s almost nose deep against your pussy.

once he’s actually nose deep, he sniffs your cunt, spitting on it before lapping it right up. he does it all while staring at you too. “hmph,” he grouses, his long tongue moving toward nanami’s area, now slurping up nanami’s own sheeny trickling saliva.

you couldn’t lie, watching the entire risqué scene of both men fighting over eating you out right before you, right between your legs made you throb even more.

toji’s raven arched brows tweak inward before a hand of his pries your left thigh further apart. “don’t fuckin’ tell me what ‘ta do.”

nanami chuckles, pressing kisses near the warm crevices of your thighs. fawn sparkling irises flicker toward you before he whispers. “you doin’ okay, sweetheart. ‘s alright?”

“y- yeah,” your voice grows more shaky as toji continues. as if it had a mind of its own, a hand of yours tugs on nanami’s hair, guiding his head back toward between your thighs. nanami shakes his head with a cunning smile, going back to lapping at your tasty treat stored right between your plush thighs. swallowing a circled lump that resides at the back of your throat, your legs start to jolt. “f- fuuuuck,” your voice strains, and toji and nanami’s just making out with your pussy.

you watch the entire time—occasionally glancing up at the large propped up canon camera that’s a few feet away from you. oh right, it’s just a scene.

you were practically using your bottom lip as chewing gum with how they were vigorously eating out your starved cunt as if it was their last meal. they both used their crimpy long tongues to create such filthy circles and shapes on and around your pussy, maneuvering their fingers inside your cunt and all.

your breath starts to grow more and more irregular — changing its speed to being a lot more quicker the more they remain sat between your thighs.

“she’s gettin’ close,” toji murmurs between sloshes of smacks with his lips. each lewd ‘pop’ he makes with his lips leaves you dizzy and begging for more. the edge of his scar that runs down the right side of his mouth smears and rubs all up against your clit and it feels so good. it tickles, but in a more raunchy kind of way.

with nanami occasionally blowing and whistling against your folds, you were surely about to lose it. your mind’s spiraling—and as your fingers remain tangled in both ruffled strands and curls of hair, their chins start to glimmer and stream down with your candied slick. “look at me, girl.” toji pats your cunt, although it’s more of a wet slap. you whimper, moist doused droplets coming from your own pussy wetting his palm right away.

your eyes meet toji and the laps of his tongue grow faster. he’s munching against your pussy, swerving his head from back and forth before he grunts, playfully biting down on your clit. not hard, but enough to where it makes you let off a cute shriek. “cum, cum on my tongue, baby.”

“ah, i think you mean cum on mine,” nanami corrects him, giving your sensitive twitching clitoral hood a single kiss.

your eyes go back and forth between the two of them, but you can’t even reply because within seconds, you’re cumming, hard.

your mouth slightly drops whilst your jaw dramatically hangs open—pathetically dangling open as they’re still lapping you clean. both scorching hot tips of your ears were stuffed with imaginary fuzz. you couldn’t hear for a few long seconds—not to mention, your body was being invaded by a plethora of tingles that shot through your body.

“f-fuuuckk,” you whine, and you’re uncontrollably shaking. it’s a rush, a crazed rush that you do don’t want to stop. as you’re spasming, you glance down at the two of them.

“mphm,” toji’s still slurping at your dewy slick juices that stream from you before nanami’s tongue gets tangled with his. he blinks thrice, and their lips abruptly meet. panting and heaving, you watch—not really remembering if that was on script but neither exactly pulls away.

they’re focusing their sloppy slick tongues on your spasming convulsing cunt while mashing glossed lips together. you throbbed at the lewd sight of your two co-stars, seeing toji grow flustered and nanami being a bit more dominant.

that was rare, as stoic as of a man that he was, you’d last expect to see toji this way. you moan, still felling their sloshing wet tongues twirl around the insides of your sobbing pussy all whilst they’re making out. at contact, they’re both tasting nothing but you on their tongues the entire time, a concoction of saliva entangles with each other as they relish in savoring your sweet taste on their tastebuds.

“maybe you’re the one who needed attention,” nanami gradually pulls away, stands of shimmery saliva dragging away from both pursed lips.

“tch. shut up,” toji grumbles, and he focuses back toward you. he slides a tongue across and over crooked his lips.

the next thing you knew—you were being lifted up, tossed right over toji’s burly shoulder.

you gasp, feeling nanami’s gentle eyes bore into your curves before he positions you, using a single hand to spread your shivering thighs apart. you were still a bit shaky and sensitive from your most recent release—your teeth still shattered and saw how their jaws locked, especially toji’s.

you felt every nerve jolt through your body, coursing through your veins.

but once the actual scene came, you were screwed.

it wasn’t fake anymore, your orgasms and moans were very much real now. and that was perfect, you were perfect, because behind the lens—it not only felt real but it looked real too.

your pretty expressions, your flat pink tongue lolling out of your mouth and the way you’re panting. toji’s fucking you from behind and he’s just mean. hard thorough strokes that makes his hips snap right into you, crash into you at full speed to where he’s creating a fatal collision.

“ah, open,” nanami whispers, and your eyelids that were practically droopy glance up. you’re met with nanami. the blond’s got a hand resting on top of the crown of your head before he taps a thumb against your cheek. “let me see that pretty mouth some more, my love,” and you lean into his touch. toji’s hips however were so rude—your sweet incoherent babbles soon starts to grow a bit more quavery due to how rickety he made your body. the olden wood of the sauna nearly splits and you can hear the blaring cracks after each rocky thrust. your lips part open and your eyes go straight toward his cock. his boxers were halfway on with the cerulean blue hem of it just hanging and protecting his sharp carvend v-line.

so pretty, you just wanted to run your tongue up and down and across every line and spot that decorates his soft skin.

“ngh, a-atta girl,” the blond’s brows reluctantly twist together, watching your warm mouth slowly take him in fully.

god, your eyes were so mesmerizing to look at. he delicately cups underneath your chin, feeling the minuscule amounts of saliva drip from your lips. your jaw remains to hang open, dangling like an earring—and that’s when he’s slowly inching himself inside your tight warm throat.

immediately, you see a bit of his blond curly pubes through your blurred peripherals. nanami’s abs clench and tighten at the feeling of your hot mouth and he groans. “my good . . girl, ugh. pretty girl with an even prettier throat.”

toji’s still propped up behind you, two broad hands attached to your waist—practically glued on. you whine, your sweet noises becoming muffled as his hips plummet into you raw.

you feel your toes curl up within each sloppy degrading thrust he makes. as you’re taking nanami’s cock, you swirl your tongue around his mushroom tip that’s got a faint splash of pink painting near the very top. he’s bittersweet, your lashes flutter as your pretty plump lips envelope around his hefty length. a single prodding vein that runs down his cock twitches inside of your mouth and you moan at the feeling.

“fuck,” toji hisses, feeling your gummy insides squeeze and clamp around him. you’ve got your back arched as your hands cling onto the sauna’s ligneous bench.

the furniture’s woody and it continuously tottering by the second—loudly creaking as his pivotal strokes deepen. every few seconds, he’d swat a palm against your ass just to hear your cute whimpers. toji likes to gawk at the recoil, the way your ass cheek jolts back against his hand from the spank, it’s cute.

the concise twinges that follow from his hand makes your moans get louder, reverberating through the thin tapered walls of the sauna.

raspy pants leave from toji’s gruff vocal chords before his callous fingertips dig deep into the fat of your hips. his foot’s tapping against the floor as his head slightly cocks itself back. “mhm, shit. such a nasty girl, gettin’ stuffed from front ‘ta back. ‘s that what you really wanted, hm?”

since your mouth was currently occupied with nanami’s thick inches—you nod while starting to feel his bulbous tip repeatedly thwack back against the roof of your mouth. your eyes squeeze shut for a second as you’re twirling your tongue around his veiny length. steadily, nanami’s cock grows inside your mouth and you happily keep it warm. each twitching vein that runs down his shaft, you flick your tongue against it just to hear him moan out your name. you’re so aroused that you try to sneak a hand down between your trembly thighs, only to be swatted away by toji’s hand. you whine, a pout forming against your swollen lips as his pace quickens.

“no touchin’ my pussy,” he mumbles, and you felt yourself twitch. now that wasn’t in the script, but the more he smacked your cunt, the more you felt extra butterflies stir inside your stomach.

toji’s got such a good angle on you—he’s ferocious, ravaging through your pasty walls, feeling your sloppy slick run all down his cock.

your ass almost glues against his pelvis, and that’s when he leans right up against you. skin against skin, big hands reach near your chest, toying with your bouncy neglected tits. you moan, feeling his thumbs curl and squeeze against your perky nipples that poke through the blouse of your shirt. “such a pretty rack, yeah,” he lowly whispers, licking near your neck. his voice was so low up against your ear. so low, the playfulness in his voice was almost enough to make you cream on his cock right then. toji’s base was very full, and he’s now just smacking against your bare ass with. a few seconds later, he groans, feeling the brief pangs of electricity ripple near the undersides of his meaty calves. “ugh, god such a pretty view like this though. ‘ken fuckin’ wishes he had my spot.”

“oh, don’t flatter yourself, toji,” the blond hums, though as he’s speaking, you could tell he’s flustered.

your tongue has nanami stammering a bit, he’s patting your head, strumming a thumb against your pursed lips. once he meets your gaze, his breath nearly gets stolen away. “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. makin’ me feel so good,” and you watch his adam’s apple bobble. his praise warmed something in your heart.

it was something about being degraded from behind and praised near the front.

toji’s reeling your ass further back into his hips with ease whilst you’re focusing your eyes strictly on nanami. nanami’s heart races at the sight of you and now, he’s wondering if this really is just a scene anymore.

he found himself getting lost in your eyes—maybe it was a bit unprofessional, but you’ve had the gaze of an ethereal galaxy. the way your pupils would doe up and dilate as your head goes up and down against his length, he wanted more of you.

“that’s it,” he grunts, running a hand through his matted blond strands. nanami nearly loses his balance once your sucking turns into slurping. you’re a mess, your entire chin being damp because of your own saliva. he wipes some of it up with his thumb, only to taste it himself and he moans. your head continuing to bobble and he’s about to break, no, he is breaking. “slobber a- all on it, don’t be shy pretty girl. ‘s okay to be my messy girl. there we go.”

“tch.” toji’s eyes roll, and he’s still striking into you. your cunt was clingy, gripping around him tightly like a vice. the feeling makes his jaw tighten whilst your stomach seizes in rapture. he’s so deep, your limbs felt so flimsy as your pathetic breaths start to get more strained and breathy.

toji’s grip was angry, it’s french kissing right up against your cervix and you can’t help but let off a squeal. right there, he knows that’s your sweet spot and once he suddenly realizes it, his rude thrusts become purely maddened.

more souse streams of saliva drips down your chin as you’re slathering the entirety of nanami’s cock with your own filthy viscid spit. you look so pretty, cock drunk and on the verge of finishing yet again.

toji fucks like a madman—each stroke felt like your entire body was gonna snap in half. his body’s hovering over you and his warm completely radiates against your own. he’s so close that he’s merely humping you, sloppy greedy strokes becoming more feral as the seconds pass. his tip massaged your walls through and through, and your eyes were rolling way back until you saw nothing but pearly white at the back of your sockets.

by this point, this entire scene didn’t feel like you were filming for a movie anymore. it slipped your mind, you forgot this was literally your job.

“s- sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum,” a husky voice interrupts your thoughts, and your tongue still toys with his leaky slit. a hand of yours wraps around his full base, stroking him with a few good solid pumps and he’s so close. your touch made him shudder, the kind of shudder where he’s just addictive for more.

more of you.

“heh, that’s right. milk the pretty boy, babygirl. he’s all flustered because of y’er throat. that’s rich,” toji snickers, a rough cackle leaving his lips as his eyes meets his abashed co-star.

it was true, nanami was entirely flustered—he’s even avoiding eye contact now and sweating pinballs. toji’s hands were now sweating from the palms and he pulls your hips continuously back into him, each slam becoming more merciless.

but fuck, his cock was just insanely thick — it expanded through your walls as your cunt merrily constricts around his length.

it slides in and out, the squelches that your cunt makes because of it leaves you craving for more. your sopping wet, and he’s only making it ten times worse nanami narrows his eyes at toji’s teasing, lightly pulling your head down just a bit more to keep your attention back towards him. “hah, don’t listen to him, pretty. eyes on me, let me see that gorgeous face ‘m about to p-paint, fuck.”

nanami’s blushing tip reddens, and once he finally cums—it’s so much. it shoots out in stringy milky ropes, velvety and all.

it paints right onto your flat tongue and your eyes snap shut for two seconds at the bittersweet taste. your lips felt tepid, still having your mouth wrap around his cock as his dick now becomes soft and flaccid. “god,” he whines, multiple metallic fingers of his delving in your scalp.

nanami’s so pretty after he finishes, he’s got somewhat of a feverish glow to him and you see his veins pop out through each of his bulky muscles. it shows right through his shirt he wore, which was close enough to being see through.

“take it, swallow it f’ me sweetheart,” and he cups your chin, removing his dick from your dampened lips. his eyes were just as droopy as yours and he’s heavily panting. “ah, can you do that?”

with your cheeks all puffed up and stored full of cum, you’re completely dimwitted. you give him a nod, swallowing the hot seed before taking a second to breath. nanami doesn’t waste any time and he leans in, pulling you into a kiss. “i want a taste of myself too.” he murmurs breathlessly between kisses. as his head lowers to your level, you moan at the feeling of his lips pressing onto yours. it’s passionate, his tongue intertwines with your own and he then roves the tip of his tongue near the crevice of your mouth. there, he tastes a few remnants of his cum and it makes him groan.

toji’s still plowing into your sopping cunt that’s fully drenching down on him before he quips.

“hn. freaks,” and literally seconds after that, his cockiness fades away because he’s now cumming too. it’s quick, it hits him at full force like a speed of a semi-truck. toji’s ramming his cock up against that sweet spongey texture that’s making you whimper before he finishes himself. the build up was practically non existent. it was just sloppy, the hormone rush drives him insane and now he’s the one that’s short-circuiting. “oh s- shit,” he growls, feeling his dick starting to tighten and shrivel up whilst deeply buried inside of you. your grip was just so wet, it makes him suck his teeth in elation at how dripping wet you were.

from the waist down, he feels numb and his hips start to slow. it’s a buzz that even spreads toward his spine and he gruffs, spanking against your ass. “ngh, pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” his voice falters, it’s husky low pitch turning more high. it’s cute, and there’s a faint pout growing on toji’s lips.

nanami looks up at him with a flustered expression. “aw, too much for you toji?”

“shut up,” he groans, still feeling the after effects. toji came a lot too, masses of creamy hot cum fills up inside of you before it spurts toward your womb.

your thighs were on its final hinges as you were still arched and hunched over, desperate to see what you looked like from behind.

you were probably a mess, a mess with cum dribbling out of your fluttering hole. a saturated translucent ring forms around his base as he stops his thrusts completely, preparing to pull out. for once, hes speechless—at least for a few seconds anyway. “fuck me,” he groans, and his cock too, was now flaccid and idle.

your fingers run down towards your puffy clit to feel for yourself and oh, it’s even more stuffed than you even imagined.

sappy runny amounts trickle down your cunt, past your swollen lips and onto the sauna’s floor. you moan, squeezing two fingers inside to toy with yourself some more but that’s right when nanami swiftly grabs your wrist.

“ah, no sweetheart. no touching what’s ours,” he whispers, a thumb softly caressing near your palm. he sees the pout that mangles against your lips and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “i’ll think about letting you touch her after we shower.”

“and who says it’s up to you,” toji rolls his eyes, his voice still a bit shaky. he reaches near the glass cabinet for a dry towel before wrapping it around his slim waist. “i mean, i wouldn’t let her touch herself either but still.”

“but—”

“there there,” nanami shushes you, bringing a soft kiss to your lips. your face softens as you return the gesture, and you then gasp once he toji lifts you up. nanami wraps a towel around his waist also, and toji creeps up beside him. cool air wafts against your skin at the sudden movements as he then opens the glass sauna door. “c’mon, let’s at least shower on it.”

as you’re slung over toji’s broad shoulder, your eyes were met with the floor. all of you walk out of the scene set and toji’s big hand squeezes near your ass. “wonder if she can take us both at the same time.”

“she’s a good girl, i think she can,” nanami kisses your forehead as toji walks with you. “right, princess?”

you still felt hot all over your body, but you nod, wrapping your arms around toji’s neck. “y- yeah,” and your nose buries inside the depths of his collarbone. his strong brawny cologne scent again, you’re hit with it face first from each whiff. “i can take you both.”

“um excuse me? this isn’t in the fucking script!”

nanami and toji both glance at the director who’s got a vein popping out of his forehead. toji snickers and nanami grows sheepish.

“eh. it is now,” toji shrugs, and he gives your ass a teasing smack. “c’mon, doll,” and he snickers, turning his head to whisper to you. “we aren’t finished with ya just yet, heh,” and toji glances at the director, giving your ass a spank as you’re still thrown over his shoulder. “cut.”

[bukuoshin]

Btw, my Arnold Palmer hairpin I'm making is so bad that I feel like I should pen a formal apology to the man himself.

Check it out 👇

Extremely simian-like... Idk how I did this nor how to fix it. Oh, well! He will just be extremely simian-like, I fuckin guess.

[suguann]

Being a camgirl comes with its fair share of ups and downs, but you never expected one of the downs to be one of your unboxings from a fan going horribly wrong during a live stream—the proof of it still buzzing between your thighs beyond your finger's reach. 

A rush of embarrassment comes with knocking on your roommate’s bedroom door and asking him for help because you’re nearing the brink of overstimulation and can’t think straight enough to get the words out. It’s worse when he stands there and says nothing—all imposing with two tattooed arms crossed over his chest—while you try to get through a sentence without moaning. 

Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway. 

Then he finally says, “Get on the bed,” in a steady and low voice, opening his bedroom door wider.

You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze as you settle back against his pillows, biting back whimpers with a too-hot face and sweat dripping down your back. 

Him settling a knee on the bed makes you jump, “Let’s take a look, love.” 

Simon crawls up the bed, forcing your knees open, and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad and big he looks, towering over you—every part of you laid bare for him to see. A large hand presses right below your belly button, jostling the toy inside you, and this time, you can’t hold back the squeal that rips from your chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice imperceptibly deeper, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight stretch.”

You bite your lip. “A-alright—”

Slight doesn’t even come close to the fingers sliding into you, spearing your sensitive walls open and pressing into a spot where you’ve never been able to reach with startling precision. You remind yourself that he has to do this, that he’s just being…friendly, or whatever makes the lines less blurred. 

None of this stops the fact your lower stomach burns with the promise of another orgasm when his fingers brush against the egg vibrator before accidentally pressing it deeper inside.

“Ah, there it is.”

At the sight of your scrunched nose, he asks if it hurts. You shake your head; eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold back the stinging pleasure racing up your spine. “N-no,” you whimper.

“Relax, okay?”

Simon doesn’t comment on how you’re implying that it feels good. So good, you think, his thumb just barely touching your clit as he twists his hand to try a different angle. Then he pushes down on your belly again, and his long fingers finally grip the vibrator.

“Oh!” you moan at the feel of it dragging down your front wall, your fingers gripping the sheets. 

He has to tell you to relax again, his voice cracking, but you hardly hear it over your heart beating loudly in your ears. His fingers drag the toy out slowly, almost too slow that you can feel it bumping against every slippery ridge inside you.

“Ah, sorry,” he says when you twitch—unapologetic—using his thumb to rub soothing circles into your stomach. “You’re so wet. I need to make sure I don’t lose it again.”

You nod, cunt clenching down at his words.

And then Simon’s fingers curl up: your thighs start quivering, breath caught in your throat, and your jaw locks up until your orgasm ripples through you. It’s unending, the strongest one yet, and just when you think it’s over, you feel the press of his palm against your clit.

“W-wait! Simon,” you moan, pushing at his hand. “No more, I‘m sensitive!”

He gets you to fall over the edge one more time before finally slipping the vibrator out of you, letting it hum softly on the bed, and your exhausted body sinks into the mattress once again. Simon gathers you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You swallow lungfuls of air against his chest, head still spinning and walls spasming from the aftershocks. 

He murmurs in your ear about how good you are, kisses your temple, and rubs your sides, and it’s… enlightening. Moments pass before you finally return to yourself, and when he pulls back, his brows furrow at your pout.

“All good?”

You shake your head and go with honesty. “I didn’t think you’d cuddle me afterward.”

He smiles, thumb flicking your bottom lip. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

Your mouth falls open. “N-no—”

Then he leans down, lips brushing against your ear: “Don’t worry, love. Good girls get fucked hard.”