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ruleofheart · 14 days

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growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel.

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you.

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators.

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up.

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten.

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck.

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly.

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?”

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy.

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat.

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world.

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her.

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.”

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life.

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom.

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement.

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school.

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material.

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges.

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike.

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground.

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind.

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.”

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow.

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart.

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity.

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door.

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside.

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features.

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.”

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules.

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.”

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.”

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical.

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest.

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm.

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you.

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much.

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter.

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle.

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.”

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers.

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest.

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it.

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side.

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!”

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground.

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game.

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal.

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked.

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.”

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you.

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart.

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you.

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money.

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart.

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again.

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach.

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from.

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you.

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed.

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore.

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom.

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it.

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally.

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked.

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness.

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side.

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost.

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely.

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you.

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me.

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected.

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet.

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better.

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours.

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold.

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door.

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers.

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her.

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.”

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later.

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you.

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest.

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo?

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation.

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well.

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough.

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?”

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ.

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation.

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer.

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation.

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating.

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her.

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.”

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral.

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.”

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?”

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head.

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt.

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette.

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.”

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement.

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?”

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes.

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy.

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need.

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear.

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly.

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes.

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion.

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too.

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off.

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down.

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy.

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone.

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you.

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you.

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again.

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.”

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude.

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation.

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her.

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her.

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure.

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience.

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place.

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.”

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply.

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips.

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely.

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you.

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips.

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles.

“Please what?”

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone.

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.”

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry.

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself.

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true.

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward.

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling.

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.”

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release.

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth.

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders.

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy.

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand.

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.”

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy.

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate.

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief.

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face.

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over.

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.”

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.”

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting.

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together.

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you.

“Hey,” she starts, voice low.

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

#ellie fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #tlou x reader #ellie angst #ellie williams angst

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d4yl1ghts · 4 months

Text

pleasure

anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: after a game of pall mall, anthony realises he has been neglecting his wife

warnings: nudity, orgasm, cunnilingus, p in v, fingering, praise kink, expeditionist kink, breeding kink, semi-public sex, breast play, unprotected sex, allusions to anxiety (maybe), arranged marriage, argument, dom!anthony, sub!reader

You sighed to yourself as you nervously wrung your fingers out in front of yourself. You were in the carriage on the way to your arranges husband’s manor. You always became anxious when meeting people that you did not know well even if you had already met them once before. Truly, you adored Anthony’s family but it was still nerve inducing.

Your husband sat opposite you, gazing peacefully out of the window. This was how your carriage rides were normally spent. In silence. You are typically quiet anyway and for Anthony it would depend on his mood. However, even when the two of you were alone he refused to speak to you.

Suddenly, the carriage halted and Anthony assisted you out of the carriage but that was the only touching you would ever do. The only night you both had spent together was your wedding night. You made your way to the entrance, hanging behind Anthony a bit. “Mother.”, Anthony hung his head in greeting. “Lady Bridgerton.”, you copied your husband’s actions. She smiled and stated: “Call me Violet, Y/N.”

She then guided the two of you inside. You stood off to the side as Anthony’s siblings welcomed him. Eloise noticed you standing quietly and walked over to you. “Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you again.”, she said. “You as well, Eloise.”, you gently smiled. Your eyes strayed to Anthony’s figure and so did Eloise’s. “Has he been annoying you recently? He certainly annoyed me when I lived with him.”, she questioned. “Of course. He wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t annoying.”, you replied. Eloise laughed slightly and you laughed along with her but it was almost in spite of your husband. You hated him but at the same time you loved him. He certainly hated you.

Benedict then led you all outside for a game of pall mall. You had never played it before and so Colin taught you the rules. “How shall we choose who gets which mallet? I think the guest should get the first choice.”, Benedict stated as he looked to you. Anthony reached out before Benedict hit his hand away. “Not you, Anthony. I’m talking to Y/N.”, he said annoyed. You noticed Anthony’s hand attempt to grab the black one before and so you choose that one just to aggravate him. “Great choice, Y/N!”, Colin chuckled. You turned to look at Anthony and saw his brooding look and tried to contain your giggles.

“Everybody get your mallets.”, Benedict said as they all raced to get their mallet. All except Anthony who was left to the pink one. He huffed in annoyance and you went to stand beside Eloise. “Look at Anthony. There’s practically steam coming out of his ears.”, you laughed. Anthony heard his name and turned to glare at you. You shut up.

“Y/N, you can have the first hit.”, Daphne offered. You slowly walked up and tried to ignore how everyone was focusing on you. You carefully aimed and then hit it. It was just wide of the goal. “That was awful.”, you stated. “Nobody gets it in first try, Y/N. In fact, that was perhaps the best first attempt I have ever seen.”, Daphne responded reassuringly. You turned to move out of the way for the next person’s go and made eye contact with Anthony who looked exceedingly angry compared to before. His eyes bore into you and he looked as if he was trying to decipher something.

It was now Anthony’s turn. He managed to hit your ball onto the opposite side of the field. You rolled your eyes as you began your stroll over. Anthony offered to go with you. You ignored him and continued. He followed anyway. You finally found the ball and noticed your husband. “Why are you following me?”, you blatantly asked. “You’re my wife.”, he simply stated. “Am I?”, you replied. He tilted his head in confusion. “Yes. How would you not be?”

“You do not treat me as such.”, you continued. “We have only ever once been intimate. At our wedding night. You barely even touch me, never mind intimately.”, you sighed as tears pooled in your eyes. He gazed at you. “Is that truly how you feel?”

You nodded, unable to form words. Tears slid down your cheeks. “I did not mean to make you feel as such. I didn’t want to hurt you. I am not made to be a husband or father. I am not made to love or to be loved.”, he responded as water filled his eyes. “But Anthony, you’ve been a father for your whole life. You raised your siblings and you did a great job at it.”, you stared at him with a sad expression. He looked up at you and took in your understanding tone. He gently caressed your face.

You gazed into his eyes. You were both so vulnerable. Anthony’s lips crashed onto yours and you sighed with content. You pulled away for air. “Anthony, please.”, you moaned as you moved your hands into his hair. “Please what?”, he asked teasingly. “Touch me. We have missed a year of this and are yet to make an heir so fuck me like it.”, you bravely admitted. He smirked before inserting two fingers up your dress and into your cunt. He let out a sigh as he felt how wet you were. “Good girl.”, he praised.

You moaned at his praise. “Need more.”, you mumbled. He leant down and pushed his face up your dress and began kitten licking your pussy. You gently guided his head against you. He still had his fingers pumping in and out of you as he licked up and down your slick folds. He felt your walls clench against his tongue and let out a sound that sent vibrations down your cunt. You grabbed the edge of your dress to ease the pressure building up within you.

You felt yourself cum as Anthony made sure to swallow it all. He then left from beneath your dress and licked the last of your slick from his lips. He moved his hands to your corset and his eyes looked to you for permission. You nodded breathlessly. He delicately removed your garments with expertise.

He hastily removed his breeches and released his erection. He bowed down to lick your hardening nipples and he even abruptly bit them. “Anthony…”, you moaned. He heard your desperate cry and lined himself up with your entrance. Slowly, he entered you and allowed you time to adjust to him. He then began to thrust in and out of you. You grinded against him, causing him to fasten his pace as he knew you wanted more.

He rested his head against your breasts and gently kissed them, occasionally leaving love bites. Anthony then adapted his position to reach deeper into you. He felt you tighten around his length and his cock began to twitch at the sudden pressure against him. You let the euphoria take you away and Anthony soon followed. He made sure to continue pushing into you as he came. After all, you had wanted to make an heir. He groaned before carefully and slowly removing himself from you. He rolled off of you and kissed your temple as he moved to hold you.

“Dear, we should probably head back. It has taken us a while to find the ball.”, he chuckled and you tiredly laughed. He put his breeches back on and helped you into your dress. He attempted to do your corset up but he only knew how to undo them, not tie them up and so it was slightly loose. He only hopes his family wouldn’t notice. You started your journey back to the pall mall match with Anthony’s help as your legs were slightly wobbly.

Your hair looked similar to as it had before. Luckily, you had requested your maid to only curl it and add a pin (you weren’t one for all the fuss of doing your hair) and so it was nothing extravagant so it was easy to set it back to how it was. As soon as you arrived back, you realised the game had come to an end. “Who won?”, Anthony asked. “Colin.”, Benedict replied. “Why did you take so long?”, Colin questioned. “You could have won, brother. Actually, Y/N, you could have won.”, he added. Violet came outside to check on everyone as she had heard the conversation. It didn’t take her long to realise what had happened. She glanced at the steady hold Anthony had on you, the slight tone in your cheeks and your legs that looked as if they would collapse at any moment if Anthony’s hold was not so strong. She smiled to herself. She knew that the arranged marriage would work. You two were meant for each other, no matter how you wished to deny it.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton one shot #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #fem!reader

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mrsmikaelsxn · 1 year

Text

A Malfoy And A Potter

masterlist

pairing: draco malfoy x female potter reader

warnings: fluff, kissing

summary: you and draco have been dating in secret but the secret comes out when you two attend the yule ball together

a/n: i am so sorry i have not posted in forever, i've just been busy with school and work, and trying to catch up on my reading goal for the year! it's almost summer break so i should be posting more again :)

song: sleigh ride - the ronettes

You were currently pushed up against the wall by your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

His lips roam the smooth skin of your jaw and throat. Peppering you with loving kisses while you play with his hair.

Both of you are breathing heavy and he brings his lips back up to your mouth as he kisses you. You let out a satisfied hum and put your hands on his chest.

You gently push him back a bit and he looks at you. "What's wrong, love?"

"Someone is going to see us," you whisper.

"Hm, well that sucks for them," he grins and kisses you again.

You push him and laugh, "I guess you're right," you smile.

"They're going to see us when we go to the ball tomorrow night, you do know that, don't you?"

"Well of course, I know that!"

Draco pulls you into his chest and rests his head on yours, "If Potter has a problem with you and me tomorrow, I'll be more than happy to practice some hexes on him," he glides his hand along your waist.

"There will be no practicing hexes, Draco," you pick up his hand and kiss it before walking out of his embrace.

"Boring!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," you squeeze his cheeks. "Anyway, I'll be off to dinner now, you should come too," you start walking to the great hall and he follows you like a lost puppy.

You go in and sit with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "Hello," you smile at them.

"Hi, Y/n," Hermione smiles.

"Hey, mate," Ron says.

"Greetings," Harry salutes you. You grin and salute him back.

"So, do you all have your dates?" You ask them. You already knew about Hermione's date, of course, you two are like sisters.

"Er- not exactly," Harry replies scratching the back of his neck.

"Same here," Ron sighs and drops his head onto the table. You cover your mouth to stop your laugh when he groans in pain.

"Welp, you two got under a day left," you clasp your hands.

"What about you?" Ron asks, "I've been wondering if you finally picked someone out of the two hundred people who asked you," he says with amusement.

"Oh don't be silly, Ron, it was not two hundred people!"

"Sorry- two hundred and seven," he corrects.

You roll your eyes, but it was true. You four have literally been tallying how many people have asked you, boys and girls. "Well, yes, I have a date."

"Really? Who?" Hermione asks.

"I suppose you'll have to see tomorrow," you exclaim with a smile.

You were in your room getting ready for the ball, slightly panicking. Hermione was already dressed and now helping you. "Y/n, you don't need to be nervous," she says as she helps with your hair.

"I know but-"

"No buts. You are perfect and you dance amazingly! Your date is very lucky," she smiles.

You relax a bit and look at her through the mirror, "Hermione, have I mentioned how much I love you?"

"Yes, yes you have," she takes her wand to finish your hair. You already did your makeup with some of her assistance. She claps her hands in excitement, "I believe it's time for the dress!"

You pick up the beautiful dark green gown. You had bought Draco a matching tie when you picked the dress out.

You put the dress on and flatten out some wrinkles.

"You look stunning!" Hermione squeals.

"You mean that?"

"Of course! Now, let's head to the ball!" Hermione links her arm with yours. You two make your way to the entrance when you start to panic again. For someone as well known and popular as you, you get social anxiety often.

"You go in first, I'm scared," you bite your lip nervously.

She sighs but nods. She gives you a quick smile with a thumbs up before she heads down the stairs and goes to her date, Viktor Krum. You peak through the curtain to watch. Ron's jaw drops when he looks at her and her date. He looks angry and you could almost laugh.

After pacing for two minutes you decided to just go down. You pull the curtain and try to sneak in without being noticed. Unfortunately, things don't always go the way you want.

There were an absurd amount of gasps as you made your way down the stairs, praying to Merlin that you didn't trip in your heels. The gaping gazes of the people there making you even more nervous.

You see Draco talking with his best friend, Blaise Zabini. Draco listens to his friend talk as he waits for you to arrive. He notices his friends eyes widened as his mouth opens a bit.

He furrows his brows and looks to see everyone staring at something. He looks and his eyes land on you. He feels all the air sucked out of him. He admires you and then snaps out of his trance and makes his way over you, who was smiling at him.

He holds out his hand and you place yours in his. He leans down to your ear and whispers, "I hope you know how ethereal you look, sweetheart," he pulls back and you blush. Another round of gasps fill the room and you hear a, "WHAT?!" You look over and see Harry rushing over to you two, "I- what in Merlin's name are you doing with Malfoy?!"

"Um, he's my date," you say.

Harry's jaw drops as his head goes back between the two of you. You laugh and shake your head.

Draco pulls on your hand, "I would appreciate a dance with my girlfriend while you continue gaping," he places his hand on your lower back and walks you to where people started to dance.

"GIRLFRIEND??!!"

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too-deviant · 6 months

Text

jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 3 months

Note

I can only share my interest in Aegon to you, so I’ll just drop this here. (Dw, contrary to what I say next, this is not a request. Just desperation.)

Broski, I NEED reader wife who’s scared of heights and dragons but Aegon gets her to ride with him just cuz he feels like it. (My hand is probably 1/3 smaller than one of their teeth. I believe Anyone sane should be scared sh’tless while seeing a dragon. 💀)

I ONLY READ ONE FIC WHERE THEY FLY ON A DRAGON! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY AEMOND FICS OF THISS??? HELP ME FIND MORE CUZ I NEED TO HAVE A RIDE ON A DRAGONNNNN. Imagine the refreshing air and scenery. (I personally imagine the beautiful pink/orange clouds from Httyd when Hiccup and Astrid fly together for the first time)😭⚰️

Also, about the death threats, you handled it well. Really, when everyone finds out you like a hated character, it’s like they are trying to get you to sign your own death sentence. Anyway, keep doing you. You write exceptionally 🤭🫶 ily

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader )

pairing: Prince Aegon ii Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon kidnaps you to ride on dragonback, it does not go well. word count: 1, 000+ words

You had been very very firm when it came to dragon's. You were no Targaryen nor held a drop of Valyrian blood in your veins. Sure, you like to gawk at them in art. The dozen paintings, stained glass windows, and books that filled the Red Keep were enough. You would never dare to go near one in real life. Dragon’s were not natural. To ride one, to tame one, it was not natural. A lot of the things that the Targaryen’s did were not natural.

So when you started as Helaena's Lady-in-waiting, you did everything you could to politely refuse to be near them. Need to go to the Dragonpits? The carriage was nice and comfy, no need to leave it. When Helaena offered to fly with her? Suddenly you grew ill with a cough. Helaena accepted, understanding your fears. She offered kind words and an open invitation should you ever change your mind on the matter.

Aegon was, as always, different. The word 'no' just could not connect in that tiny little brain of his. He took it as a challenge. He would jest about kidnapping you and taking you flying. You laughed and told him you'd push him out of a window if he dared to do it.

Of course, he had tried once with a look a little too serious on his face. After waddling away, clutching his groin from your hard kick, he learned that it would not be easy to get you on dragonback. You’d fight back. You would be a challenge, he liked that a lot.

Kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs, you did everything you could think of to get free of Aegon's hold. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist, he dragged you along to the Dragonpits, the dragon keeper's onlooking in confusion and mild horror. You could give less of a shit if they thought you mad. There was no way in the Seven Hells that you were going on a flight with Aegon. You'd rather kiss the King's rotten lips than to go flying.

"No! Put me down, you drunken oaf!" You shout, thrashing against him.

"No."

"I am going to kick you so hard you'd never be able to get it up again, Aegon! Put me down!" You bellow, yanking at his hair.

"Not a chance, we are going flying." Aegon brushes off your threats, "You will enjoy it. Tis' delightful."

Letting out a loud scream into his ear, he did not falter, running off of pure spite and stubbornness. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact he was dragging you along to go flying. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. Gods damn it, why did he have to be strong? Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way.

"Please, please, Aegon." You beg, "I'll give up my desserts for a whole moon. Just let me go."

"Tempting." He chuckles, a smirk on his face.

"Please, Aegon. I do not wish to fly." You beg, on the verge of tears.

"I fly all the time. Once I even did it drunk, tis' nothing dangerous." He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Shaking your head frantically as his grip tightens, he drags you into the dark cave, the stench of dragon thick in the air. The few torchlights in the cave illuminated enough to see his dragon, Sunfyre, burrowing into his rocky nest. Feeling tears of fear bubbling up, you go deadly silent, losing your voice. This was your worst dream come true. Face to face with a dragon. Holding back the whimper in your throat, Aegon presses a kiss onto your temple, refusing to let you go.

“He won’t harm you. He’s used to your scent.” Aegon whispers into your ear, “I brought him one of your dresses to smell.”

“Let me go.” You whimper out, voice full of pure terror.

“Come on, you’re already here. Let’s just go for a quick flight.” Aegon argues, shaking his head dismissively.

“Aegon..”

Slowly letting go of your waist, you go to bolt for the cave exit, only to be swept back up into Aegon’s arms. He carried you like a toddler who had a habit of running away. Letting out a loud cry as he refused to put you back down, he wags his finger mockingly, a half amused look on his face. Hearing Sunfyre stir in his nest, you try more desperately to get away, the rumbling of the dragon echoing loudly in the cave.

“No, no, no.” He scolds, “Bad Y/n. No running away.”

“Put me down! I want to go back to the Red Keep!”

“No, if I have to attend Court, then you cannot escape this.” He suggests, “Consider this your duty.”

“Fuck duty. Put me down, Aegon!” You sob, bottom lip wobbling.

“Ooh, so now we do not care about duty, hm?” He mocks, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple, he carried you closer and closer to Sunfyre, until the two of you were right in the dragon’s face. Feeling your grip tighten on him, he slowly smiles at the feeling, like see you so unlike yourself. This had to be the first time he had seen you act so improper and anxious. It was refreshing, amazing, and amusing all at the same time.

Smiling bright as Sunfyre stirs away, the golden dragon huffs at the two of you, his two large green eyes staring back. Puffing his chest out in pride, he hoped the sight of his dragon would impress you and make you swoon. His dragon always got compliments. Looking down at your face, there was not an ounce of admiration or awe or anything positive, only terror.

“He’s pretty is he not?” He gloats proudly, “You know, they say he is the prettiest dragon to have ever been hatched.”

“If I survive this, I am going to kill you.” You whisper out, face pale.

“Stop speaking as if you are going to die. Sunfyre would not dare to attack, not whilst I am here.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve seen your dragon, can we leave now. I want to go back to the Red Keep, Aegon.” You whimper, tears bubbling up in your eyes.

"No. Don't you dare." He argues, "Don't you dare do the whole crying trick on me. I am not foolish like Helaena and can be swayed."

Watching as you sniffle and whimper, his grip tightens on you, not wanting to give up just yet. Seeing the big puppy dog eyes you give him, he grits his teeth, tensing up. He falter's for a moment. He was always sucker for those big puppy dog eyes of yours. You knew how to make him crumble.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look." He tries to resist.

"Please, Aegon."

"No. Stop that." He shakes his head, "Stop that right now. I demand you stop that."

"I..I want to go home, Aegon. Please, take me home." You beg, sniffling.

Letting out an exasperated groan at you begging and pleading to go home, he begrudgingly agrees to it, knowing that it would be no fun if you cried the entire time. Scowling like a child who had its toy taken away, he loosens his grip on you, putting you back down onto your feet. One day he’d get you on dragonback. Sadly, just not today.

"Aegon, please, I want to go home." You whimper, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Fine, fine, stop crying.” He grumbles, “But next time, we are going to actually get on the dragon.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

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certifiedbueckethead · 4 months

Text

concert confession﹒⪩⪨﹒

paige bueckers x teammate! reader

warnings: eating out, fingering

word count: 3.3k

a/n: it’s been a bit since I last posted a ff but here goes nothing I guess ;-; feel free to send me any requests and maybe I’ll post more - inspired because im seeing Bryson this weekend <3

readers pov

You take a step back in front of the mirror in your shared dorm with your roommates Azzi and Kamorea. You had on a lacy, black corset and a tight black leather skirt and a pair of those cute heels, that have the pretty strings going up your leg- also black. You may ask, what’s the occasion? Well, you’re going to your first concert. As roommates, you got lucky since both Azzi and KK know how to do hair and makeup, which you weren’t gifted with. But, you had all the cute clothes, so you all helped each other out, and honestly - who knew a bunch of college basketball girls could look so hot because you guys really did look good.

“I am so glad we convinced you to come along with us y/n because you look so fucking good.”, Azzi says, taking a picture of the three of you in the mirror. KK hummed in agreement before getting the shot glasses and setting them on your dresser. “Okay, how about we do three here and we can have some in the car ride there.”, you say and the girls were far from opposed. You didn’t want to get too far gone, especially since this is a concert to remember. You loved rnb music a lot, it was your favorite genre - making Bryson Tiller one of your top artists.

You all finish your shots, taking a few more photos together and you run to your uber that you ordered a few minutes prior. “No way.”, you say in the car - staring at a message on your phone. You had posted a picture of your fit on your story on Instagram, with some text saying “bryson tn <3”. Not only did your crush like the story, but she had responded to your story too.

pbuecketz

hey, didn’t know yall were going to the concert tn, you should’ve told us

st3rg1rl (y/n)

who’s us?

pbuecketz

me, ice, nika, and aubrey

let’s meet, it’s all floor tickets anyways

Your roommates take your phone and read over the short conversation. “Yeah we knew Paige was coming, but if we told you, we knew you wouldn’t-”, KK started, before stopping to watch you down the small plastic bottle you had filled with soju.

If Paige was going to be here and you looked this good, you couldn’t waste it being in your head. You had to shoot your shot. Liquid confidence can’t hurt anyone. Maybe that’s just the alcohol speaking. Your thoughts are silenced when the uber driver pulled up, a full block from the venue, like you had requested.

You all quickly thank the driver and get out, drinking the last of the small bottles of alcohol you brought, fixing your clothes and checking your makeup.

The walk to the venue was nice, it was a cool night and since it’s May, it’s not too hot but during the evenings it’s the perfect temperature. Azzi teases you about Paige, showing you her stories on instagram with her fits - since you refused to look at them. “AZZI, STOP SPOILING THE GOODS”, you say to her, flipping her off. Getting into the venue was fine, you showed your tickets and ID since there was a bar. You all knew this prior to arriving, but why pay for overpriced water downed alcohol when you could just pre-game. But the pre-game has gotten to your small group of friends, since you all were smiley, giggly and not making much coherent sense. At security when checking in, you all tried your best to be the mature adults you were.

It was a bit early, 8:17 pm and the event didn’t start until 8:30. You drag your girls to the bathroom, and ask for a pep talk. “Y/n, you’ve liked her for 3 fucking years, if you don’t do something about it then it’s your own fault.”, Azzi tells you, rubbing your arm. “You look hot, Paige would have to be straight as a fucking ruler if she doesn’t have her eyes on you the whole night.”, KK tells you and you look in the mirror and fix your lip liner.

“You’re Y/n, uconns second best player, right behind Paige. You look hot tonight, and you can do this.”, you mumble to yourself as you follow your girls out the bathroom and the find some of your other teammates and you all find a good place, near the stage.

“You look way better tonight in person, your story didn’t do you justice mamas”, the girl you were nervous the entire way to the venue said, standing right in front of you. Something was different tonight, something felt different but you couldn’t put your finger on it - maybe it was the alcohol messing with you again but you go for it.

“If I knew you were coming tonight, I would’ve put some more effort in - you’re a tough girl to impress.”, you respond. It’s true anyways, she was hard to impress. It wasn’t the first time you’ve worn something like this, or just about done anything for her to say something like this.

The concert starts, and the team is taking selfies with each other to capture the moment, and of course KK is on live with Ice and Azzi, streaming the concert and you, Nika, Aubrey and Paige are singing along and taking videos. You glance at Paige, and admire how she looks. She didn’t have to wear much makeup to look so gorgeous, she wore black dress pants and a black crop top, matching your vibe - unintentionally of course. As the concert progresses, you feel the alcohol start to ware off, and though you didn’t want to waste money at the bar, you end up going to the back and getting a drink. You still had to shoot your shot, which you still had no clue what you were going to do.

Then it hits you, you knew what to do. You get another quick shot of soju, down it and make your way back to your friends. “Hey guys, I gotta use the bathroom anyone wanna come with.” you say to them, and luck is on your side because the very girls at the concert with you all know about your 3 year crush on Paige, and they let her answer. “Yeah, I gotta go too.”, Paige says, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd.

Azzi and KK shoot you a look as you get dragged through the crowd and you feel your face heat up. When the two of you get to the bathroom, Paige actually goes to the bathroom and you bend over slightly over the counter and fix your eyeliner. Nodding along with the music, mouthing the words, Paige comes out of the stall, and you can see her checking you out.

Perhaps, you might have bent over slightly more - of course you won’t admit it but this has to work somehow. Paige washes her hands and then sits on the counter. It’s just you two in the bathroom, so quiet enough to have a conversation over the loud music from behind the door.

“I didn’t know you liked Bryson.”, Paige says, watching you reapply your lip gloss. “I could say the same thing about you Paige, don’t you mostly listen to gospel?”, you say to her, teasing - you are familiar with her music taste since she often has aux at practice. “Hey, don’t even start, you listen to Taylor Swift.”, she says, laughing but not taking her eyes off of you. “Paige, stop doing that.”, you say, getting frustrated at her. For 3 full years you’ve liked this girl, and she’s never noticed and it’s quite obvious. From all the cookies you’ve baked for the girl, the light night calls while playing fortnite, the ice cream cheer ups after a rough game, you spent a lot of time with her, just her.

“Doing what.”, she says, getting off the counter and facing you. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to be so honest but it came so easily when you’ve drank over your limit. “Come on Paige, I like you and you act like you could care less. It’s painfully obvious, but you’d rather keep me on the back burner right? You’d rather be in my arms crying over a girl you’ve got too close too who was supposed to be a casual hookup, countless of times, then even give me a fucking try.”, you say to her, your voice not even wavering at the accusation that just spilled from your lips. Paige reaches for your hips, pulling you closer and not letting her hands falter, but just rub small circles on the bone. “Y/n, you know it’s not like that.”, she says, avoiding eye contact.

“No but it is Paigey, it really is and I can’t keep waiting for something you won’t even acknowledge, let alone for something to happen.”, you say, resting your forehead on hers.”Y/n, I mean it, it’s not like that.”, Paige says, in almost a whisper. “Then what is it like,”, you say in return. You take a step back, and a deep breath. Preparing yourself for the answer you’ve waited years for. “Y/n, you’re like this super talented athlete, who spends all of her time devoted to her school and her sport and I am here just as this girl who just sleeps in others beds every other night and yeah, I’m fucking good at basketball too. But to you it comes effortlessly, and you know what you want, you have this big plan for your future of everything. Down to the name you want your fucking cats when you graduate. You deserve more than me.”, Paige says to you, her voice breaking and her back against the counter.

“One try, okay? Give me one try, and I can show you why you are what I deserve. You are so gifted and your sport will take you places. Sure you do have some labels at school, but those don’t reflect the Paigey I know, the real you.”, you tell her, suddenly feeling bad for the ambush. You reach over for her hands, and hold them gently before placing soft kisses on them.

“I only fucked all those other girls to try and get over you y/n, it wasn’t me crying over the fact I got too close to any of them, it’s just none of them were you.”, Paige confesses to you and all you can do is bring her into a hug. The answer you were so scared to hear all this time, it was so simple. Maybe this could’ve been easier, if you said something sooner.

The two of you return back to your group of friends, holding hands and you enjoy the rest of the concert. You all take photos for Instagram and call ubers to get home. “Guys, lets all sleep over at Aubrey’s and Paige’s.”, KK says, and the team all agrees but you get on your tippy toes, and whisper to Paige, “I want some time with you alone tonight if it’s alright.” She nods her head, trying to not make anything obvious as the group was walking to the door. You call a separate uber, and as everyone else is getting in the cars called a bit earlier, Paige says, “Hey, Y/n had too much to drink, I’ll meet you all at the house, I just want to make sure she gets back okay.”

Of course everyone believes what Paige says, because they knew you were in love with the girl not the other way around. When the two of you arrive at your dorm, you tell her to excuse the mess and she just laughs. “Y/n, trust me you guys could not be anymore messy then me and Aubrey.”, she says, as you walk in. Now that the two of you are finally alone, you pull Paige into a tight hug, feeling her warmth and embracing her smell - a mix of old spice and ariana grande’s cloud perfume. You feel her breathing, slow and deep as she hugs you back. “You good mamas?”, she whispers and you hum in response.

You slowly let go of her, and you make your way to your bed. “Paige, can I ask you something?”, you say to her and show follows you to the bed, sitting right next to you. “What’s on your mind?”, she says, not taking her eyes off of you.

“You know…I haven’t you know. Lost…. Uhm, you know, lost it yet.”, you say to her quickly, avoiding her gaze. She laughs lightly, “Yes, y/n I know that already, what about it?”. “I’ve always wanted it to be you.”, you tell her, bluntly. It’s true, you’ve had offers before, you’ve had people confess to you plenty of times, but you’ve waited for Paige. You needed it to be Paige.

“Yeah, and why is that?”, she say, gently turning your face towards her and leaning in closer. “Because, with you, it’s real.”, is all you can say before giving into the space left between the two of you. You kiss her, and it’s far from what you expected it to be. Her lips tasted like her cherry lip balm, but the kiss itself. It felt so good, and before you know it, Paige is kissing you back needily, and pulling you into her lap, setting her hand on your lower back. You pause to breathe finally, and there is a single string of saliva connecting your lips together. But Paige doesn't waste her time. She moves her hands to your waist, and kisses your neck gently while untying your corset top. “This okay ma?”, she whispers against your skin. “Mhm, Paige I trust you, I want this.”, you tell her. Looking up at you she says, “At any time you want to stop please tell me okay?”, and this is the reason you’ve fallen in love with her in the first place. She is always so gentle and caring with you, and knowing she felt the same way this is what you wanted.

Paige gets off your bed and kneels in front of you, helping you take off your top and pulling down your skirt. Admiringly, she stares at you - as if she’s never seen the body of another woman before. You bend a bit down and kiss her lips, feeling vulnerable to be this naked in front of someone. She returns the kiss and places her hands against your chest, rubbing her thumbs against your nipples and you can’t help but whimper into her mouth quietly. She leaves one of her hands on your chest while the other slowly slides down your bare and cold body, rubbing between your thighs. You widen your thighs because you know you want more, you need more of her. Paige takes the hint and stands up and pushes your back against the bed. Before getting on top of you, she takes off her shirt revealing her defined abs. God… she looked so fucking hot and she isn’t even doing anything. She removes her sports bra and her pants, leaving her just in her boxers. She goes back to appreciating your body, kissing and sucking on every inch of your neck, your collarbones and your breasts. Circling her tongue around your nipples, you feel yourself weaken. You want her to make you feel even better and in a small voice you tell her, “Paige… please just make me feel good.”. Kissing your forehead gently and tucking your hair behind your ears, she moves down and gently rubs between your folds, feeling the slick that’s accumulated from her previous advances. It’s clear how needy you were for her and it was embarrassing to you.

But Paige made it known it turned her on because she groans at the sight of your wetness coating her fingers, she takes her own boxers off and latches her tongue onto your clit. You are so entranced in the feeling of her sucking on you that it takes you a while to realize that she is using her own fingers, that were wet with your slick, to finger herself while she pleasured you. It was so hot to see, you close your eyes from everything that was presented with you. You feel Paige moan against your dripping wet cunt, wet from your slick and her saliva. You get greedy, and want more, yearn for more so you start rolling your hips against her face.

“Oh my fucking god… paige, paige, please, oh my, fuck just like that, please, ah oh my god, keep going.”, was all you could get out as you took one of your hands and collected some of her hair and shove her against your cunt, wanting even more. You’ve touched yourself to your own dirty thoughts of Paige before, but you could never have imagined it was this good. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, and Paige notices too and she takes her own fingers out of herself.

“Sweetheart, can you get on your knees for me please?”, she says, in such a loving tone you felt compelled to not even question what she was going to do. You get up and do as your told, and Paige slides one of her fingers into you, letting you get used to it.

Letting out a few desperate moans, Paige slides a second finger into you knwoing you could take another and begins to curl her fingers up inside you. And that is what just about does it for you. “Oh my pretty girl, how does it feel, can you tell me how it feels please angel?”, Paige asks you, using her free hand to caress your waist while her other hand does what only exists in your dirty thoughts and dreams.

“Paigey, oh so good, more please, fuck me more.”, is what you tell her, feeling your face redden even more. You widen your legs, spreading out your ass for her and pull your plushie into your arms. Paige listens to you, wanting it to be the best first time you could ever be given. She shoves three fingers into your throbbing cunt and you moan into your plushie only dirty things. Whispering in your ear, Paige says, “let me hear what I’m doing to you my love, you sound so pretty for me, it’s only right I get to hear.”, and you let out a few more moans, getting louder the harder Paige curls her fingers into you.

It was getting overwhelming, having your wetness drip down your thigh but knowing that Paige was taking care of you so good, just the way you’ve wanted turned you on more. It felt like a dream. Before you know it you’re spurting out cum against Paiges fingers, and she doesn’t waste a minute to lick her fingers and eat you out from behind to get everything. The overstimulation was driving you insane, and Paige removed herself from your cunt, leaving a gentle kiss on it. You lay on your back and Paige is quick to pull you into her arms, and placing the covers over the both of you.

Your forehead is sweaty, making your hair stick to it and Paige tucks your hair behind your ears neatly and kisses your forehead, your cheek and then your lips. “Did I do good for you mama?”, she says, and suddenly the vulnerability you thought only existed in your previously virgin self, you realize she wanted to know if she did good enough for you. “Uh huh, just like I’ve dreamed of, only better.”, you tell her, placing your head against her chest and encapsulating her smell. “I’m so glad I could do that for my girl.”, she tells you and you feel yourself drift off to sleep.

All the previous anxiety of everything that existed between the two of you has gone away and you feel at peace in her arms. You are sure you can prove to her she deserves you, and that you deserve her.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year

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Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management ship #anger management #jazz fenton #jason #long post #your honor there is no way in my mind that these two aren't bangin within 24 hours of meeting #the chemistry is there #jazz was being followed by the giw and jason saves her #jazz is literally in love from that point forward #she has a type and he checks all her boxes your honor #danny just wants his sister safe but he will shovel talk the zombie later

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igbylicious · 6 months

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whichever way [woosan x reader] pt7

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, light angst, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: San opens up, Wooyoung cooks, and time passes.

wc: 5.7k

ch. warnings: no full-blown sex scene but there is smuttish content, dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, strip poker, dry humping, cumming in pants, thigh-riding, overstimulation, titty fuck, light cumplay, vaginal fingering, blindfolds, gettin’ giggly during (an attempt at) sex

San background story: UNLOCKED. Comes with a pinch of angst over a strained past relationship.

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

“Yes, Dad, I’ll tell Wooyoung. No I won’t forget, don’t worry about it. Say hi to Mom for me, okay?”

San ends the call, an amused yet weary smile on his face.

“…Did your dad call you just to ask you to ask Wooyoung to call him?”

You stifle a laugh at what you just witnessed, putting a container of blueberries in the shopping cart. The grocery store hums with the sound of background music and other customers around you, not too crowded but still busy enough for a random weekday afternoon.

It’s a sweltering day, afflicted by an early burst of summer heat, and so San has opted for a basic white sleeveless shirt with jeans while you and him go through the shopping list that Wooyoung compiled. It is a true testament to your steady exposure to San’s physique that you aren’t constantly distracted by his bare arms — just a perfectly reasonable amount. (So… still a lot.)

“Yeah, he did…” San sighs, shaking his head as he puts his phone away. He picks up a watermelon and taps it to check for ripeness, a pout still lingering on his lips. “Dad has Wooyoung’s number, I don’t get it at all.”

“Wait, really? That’s… actually kinda cute.”

San stares at you, watermelon still in his hands. “‘Cute’?”

“Yeah! It’s like an excuse for him to also call you, right?” you shrug, picking out some nice-looking peaches.

“Why doesn’t he just call me if he wants to call me,” San sulks, but there is the tiniest hint of smile on his lips. “I swear, he can be such a weirdo.”

“Hm. What’s that thing they say about apples and trees?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!”

“San, you are a bit of a weirdo.”

“Funny,” he corrects you firmly. “I am funny.”

“Don’t get me wrong, weird is good. I like weird! But your dad did call right when you were trying to convince me that you’re secretly immortal.”

“I’m just saying there’s no proof that I’m not! Have I ever died? No!” San says, like he has just outplayed you with the most brilliant ‘gotcha’ in human history.

“Alright, Mr. Immortal,” you grin at him, pushing the cart further along, “then why are you such a scaredy cat anyway? I’ve seen you get jump-scared by Byeol more times than I can count. You have nothing to fear, right?”

“Hey, that cat is a ninja,” San counters, comically serious. “She can get the drop on anyone. There is no shame in getting scared by Byeol.”

Good-natured arguments aside, you and San are a well-oiled machine in the store. You do your groceries together on the regular; it started off one time when you impulsively texted San whether he needed anything, since you figured he’d be tired from working all day after a late night with you and Wooyoung.

But instead of sending a list, San decided to just come with you. Ever since then, it’s grown into a habit for either of you to text a little 🛒❓ before you go out to the store. Sometimes you pick stuff up for San, sometimes he picks stuff up for you, but more often it turns into a group effort.

Just like today; ticking off the shopping list that Wooyoung charged you with. He’s cooking tonight, and you’re excited to finally taste for yourself whether Wooyoung’s promised ‘perk’ of friendship lives up to expectations.

San certainly believes it will, hyping up Wooyoung’s skills as you make your way through the grocery store. You listen to him with a fond smile, slightly worried that Wooyoung might not be able to live up to the sky-high expectations, but also endeared by San’s open adoration of his boyfriend.

Since it’s a hot day, you and San also pick up two ice cream sandwiches, and walk home together.

You squint at San, who lugs around both the watermelon and a heavy bag of groceries. “San, this is ridiculous. I should carry something too.”

San grins. “Nah, you already have your hands full! With snacks!” He eyes his sandwich, then blatantly opens his mouth at you.

“Yeah, and if I took the watermelon, it’d free you up to hold your own,” you point out, but you raise up the frozen snack to his lips so he can take a bite anyway.

He shakes his head with a full mouth, barely taking time to swallow before he makes his protests known. “That makes no sense to me. Besides, it evens up this way,” he says, lifting his hand with the grocery bag up to his shoulder like it’s a dumbbell, then slowly lowering it back down.

“…Weirdo.” You affectionately roll your eyes at him and feed him another bite.

The ice cream sandwiches are gone by the time you reach your apartment building, where you take the elevator up to the top floor. Hands free, you open the door to San’s home and join him inside.

“Aish, Byeol no!” San poutingly scolds his cat when you step into his living room, where Byeol is sitting on the coffee table like it’s her throne. She turns her head at him, lets out a little ‘mrrp’, and refuses to move an inch — and San does nothing to actually remove her from the table, just leaving her be. (What a softie, you think warmly.)

“Wooyoung will be here soon, right?” you ask while you unpack groceries together in the kitchenette; you take them out of the bag, San puts them away or on the counter for later cooking. He also puts some sweet rice in a bowl to soak, as requested by Wooyoung.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be more than—” San starts, but he is interrupted when his phone buzzes insistently yet again. He looks at the name on the screen, and grimaces at you. “Shit, sorry, mind if I take this?”

“Aren’t you popular today,” you tease him. “Go for it.”

San shoots you a look of apologetic gratitude, and answers the call. “Yunho, hey man! Listen, can I call you tomorrow? I got someone over right now. No, not Wooyoung, it’s my neighbour. Y-yes, that neighbour. From next door.”

You had walked over to the coffee table to lure Byeol off the surface, careful so she doesn’t knock San’s reading glasses onto the floor. But when San mentions you, you look up just in time to see how his ears have gone slightly red, and he grimaces at the eye-contact.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow, Yun-ah!”

You raise an eyebrow at him from your place on the couch, with the fierce and terrifying ninja cat purring loudly in your arms. “So… I am that neighbour, huh?” you joke.

Embarrassment now fully burns across San’s face. “I swear we don’t go around gloating about you,” he rushes to explain, flustered. “Yunho just— I asked him for help on how to approach you, before you walked in on— He, uh, he has some experience—”

“It’s okay, San,” you assure him, taking mercy. “I trust you and Wooyoung aren’t the shag and brag types. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t told anyone about you guys either.” Hongjoong probably also has San mentally catalogued as ‘that neighbour’ in his head. That being said, you are curious about this Yunho and his ‘experience’ now.

“So, uh, Yunho is a friend? Very accomplished in picking up his neighbours for threesomes?” you ask, scritching Byeol behind her ears while she slowly falls asleep.

San laughs lightly, your question smoothing away his earlier embarrassment. “No, no, it’s not exactly like that. I met him back at my first BDSM party; Yunho took me under his wing when he found out how little experience I had. The parties ended up not really being my thing, I prefer to keep it more private, but we stayed in touch. We tag-teamed a few times — usually at his initiative, so when me and Wooyoung got… interested in you, I figured he was my best bet for some advice.”

“Oh? What was the advice?”

San rolls his eyes. “To make sure we asked you somewhere that you could run away from. Fast. In case we creeped you out. Very helpful.”

“Hey now, don’t knock him for that!” you laugh. “One should always give a person access to a solid escape route when soliciting them for sexual favours.”

“It’s not like I planned to corner you in the elevator!”

San strolls over to the couch to flop down next to you, where he runs a gentle hand over Byeol’s grey fur. A hint of a smile tugs at San’s lips when she bumps her head into his hand, and his face is relaxed. It reminds you a little of Wooyoung’s quiet photographs of him, serene and soft.

Curiosity nags at you. You’ve always been interested in San’s history with kink; you just never found the right moment to ask more about it.

“Stop me if this is too personal to ask,” you say, “but how did you end up at a play party? Most of the kinky people I know stick to buying some gear online, do a bit of research on their own.”

“Oh? Huh, good question.”

San chuckles, completely unbothered by your curiosity. It’s not surprising; ever since stepping into this arrangement, San has always been very free-spoken about anything related to sex. He does ponder the question for a moment, thinking it over.

“The kink was only part of it, really. A big part, sure, but the whole emphasis on negotiation and everything really spoke to me too,” he slowly explains. “I looked online into local communities, found some groups, and decided to just take the plunge. I guess I just wanted to be around people who knew what they were doing, you know? I… I really struggled with confidence at the time, thought it’d be nice to see experience in action.”

You blink in surprise at that last part. “Wait, you struggled with confidence?”

Considering how shy San used to be around you, perhaps you shouldn’t be too shocked; but inside the bedroom, you have never known him as anything but a beacon of self-assurance. He takes care of you and Wooyoung with a rough or gentle hand, always certain in his assessment of which the situation calls for. No, you don’t exactly associate San with a lack of confidence.

San is not bothered by you asking this question either, or at least you’re pretty sure, but his brow does furrow lightly, and his fingers gently curl in Byeol’s fur.

“Yeah, I did,” he says with a wry smile. He hesitates, but then continues on. “My old boyfriend, he… Communication wasn’t our strongest point, I guess. It was always on me to take initiative, to figure out what he liked and I just— At some point I couldn’t tell anymore if he was even enjoying himself, or just… going along with it.”

You lightly lean against San, putting a hand on his knee. Not wanting to interrupt, but still wanting to let him know you’re here. Casual acts of affection don’t come the easiest to you, but San looks like he needs one right now. For him, you will try.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you in silent thanks. “It’s not that I mind taking the lead or anything,” San says awkwardly, like there is a need to explain himself, “or explore new things together if someone is still figuring out their preferences, but I need something, right? I need to know if it feels good — or if it doesn’t.

“Especially since, well, since I’m into some rougher things,” he says, abashed. “I already had a hard time not feeling guilty about those interests and he… didn’t exactly help. I kept worrying I’d push something bad onto him, that the things I wanted to try were wrong.”

A sympathetic pang of pain rings through your ribcage, and you gently squeeze San’s knee. “There is nothing wrong about the things you want. I’m sorry he made you feel that way. You didn’t deserve that.”

San’s smile deepens at your assurance, but he shakes his head. “Honestly, in hindsight I think he had his own issues to sort out. I hope he has now. We just… weren’t good for each other.”

“San,” you say firmly, exasperation and fondness battling it out in your voice, “sometimes you seriously are way too much of a nice guy.”

He shrugs, grinning at you. “That’s fine by me.”

“Of course you’d say that! It’s okay to be a little resentful at someone who made you fumble around in the dark like that.”

Something complicated shines behind San’s eyes. Like he can’t quite share your feelings, but he still appreciates that you feel them on his behalf. “It’s okay, I’m doing a lot better now,” he assures you, his face brightening again. “Besides, better to look at where it brought me, right?”

“Oh sure, if you insist on being all emotionally mature about it,” you say, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes as you nudge an elbow in his side. “But yeah, I can see how that’d draw you to BDSM, with kink checklists and all that stuff. Must’ve been freeing to have people just flat-out tell you ‘yes, I would like you to tie me up and spank me until I cry, actually’.”

There’s a little pop of warmth in your chest when San laughs. “Exactly! I mean, not that being into kink automatically makes anyone perfect at this stuff, but it still helped me out a lot.” He considers what you said a moment longer, and his lips curve a little sharper as he grins at you. “Soooo… is that a request? The spanking thing? I did take it easy on you last time.”

“You took it easy— San—!” you splutter, giving him another nudge with your elbow. Byeol mrrps in protest at how you shift underneath her. “Fuck, you really got better at that whole confidence thing, huh?”

But you look at him, at his gleaming dark eyes, and as you think back on some of your past interactions with San, their context changes ever so slightly.

Like the way San always softens when he’s praised after an intense scene; or how he had thanked you for being so open with him during your first kink negotiation and after you’d used ‘yellow’ on him. You had simply taken his mindfulness towards your safety and consent as the green flags that anyone should like to see in their sexual partner — but now you can see it goes a little deeper than that.

It was always a given to you, that San would make you feel good and cared for. But San has not always seen it the same way.

San’s attention has shifted back to Byeol, and he scratches the purring cat under the chin while she slowly blinks up to him; looking like the very picture of contentment in San’s trusted care.

“Thank you, for telling me all this,” you say, squeezing San’s knee again.

He grins. “Thanks for being cool about it.”

“Of course I’m cool about it,” you tell him, a little confused that it even needs to be said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Eh,” he says, trying to shrug it off. “It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t be. It’s just, for some people it kinda ruins the fantasy, to hear that their dom has a history of insecurity issues.”

“You’re not a fantasy, you’re San,” you blurt out, stubborn and earnest. “And you are my friend, first.”

San blinks in surprise at your words. (You’re a little surprised yourself.)

“Well,” he says in the abashed silence that follows, while slowly breaking into a soft smile, “thank you. I’m glad to hear that, really.”

You grin back at San, trying not to be overwhelmed by the simple, honest gratitude that glitters in his eyes. “Good. A-anyway,” you continue awkwardly, “you and Wooyoung sure do make a lot of sense, considering. He is not shy about what he likes. Is that how you guys met too?”

San’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh at your ungracious pivot. “Not really, but kinda yeah?” he says, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about the question. “I did meet Wooyoung through Yunho, but they’re mostly gamer buddies. Yunho pretty much set us up; must’ve also realised we’d be… compatible. He’s observant like that,” San chuckles.

“And it’s true, that is what drew me to Wooyoung at first. I liked how outspoken he is about what he wants — and he liked that I like that about him. And then… well, we found a whole lot more to like about each other,” San grins at you, just a little cheeky.

Before you can respond, you hear the front door to the apartment open as the man in question lets himself inside.

“Hey, we were just talking about you!” San calls to Wooyoung when the latter steps into the living room.

“Oh? About how great I am?” Wooyoung says, walking up to the couch to give you a half-hug from behind and kiss San on the cheek. He has come straight from work, still carrying a pleasant waft of the florist shop’s scent around him.

You’re still a little surprised every time you see Wooyoung; he has abandoned his red hair-dye to go back to black. Not as boisterously loud but still strikingly attractive, especially with the way it’s growing out, long strands framing his pretty face. He is wearing simple but elegant black trousers, plus a cream-coloured button up with a relaxed fit, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a low v neckline that falls just short of scandalous. It makes for a stark contrast next to San in his casual summer fit, but the two still look good together, like they always do.

“Nah, I was just saying that you’re probably going to burn all the food,” San teases his boyfriend, feline mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Wooyoung scoffs, smacking San on the shoulder as he pulls back. “All the food? It’s samgyetang,” he says in an indignant pout. “How badly do I have to mess up to burn the soup?”

“…I’ve burned soup,” you pipe up.

Wooyoung’s exaggerated offence melts away as he looks at you, a distinct sigh of ‘oh honey’ painted across his face.

“I got distracted, alright! Not my fault that I took my eyes off the stove for two minutes and suddenly it was an hour later!”

He pats your cheek with a pitying shake of his head, then turns to San with a flat expression. “Let me know if you ever need a place to stay because a certain neighbour burned the building down.”

“Hey—”

“Thanks Woo, I’ll take you up on that,” San grins, then whispers to you, “Don’t worry, I’ll save you from the fire first.”

“Thanks… but also, rude? Stop assuming I’ll set anything on fire!” you sulk at him. “Is this what I get for confiding in you guys? Mockery and distrust? You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Wooyoung gives you an unimpressed look; you really should’ve known better than to appeal to his sense of shame. Predictably, he banishes you from the kitchenette when he starts to prep the small hens — but there is a small consolation; San gets banished right with you.

This way, you and San end up playing some Mario Cart while the room slowly fills with the mouth-watering aroma of Wooyoung’s cooking. It’s comfortable and homey, with plenty of back-and-forth chatter between living area and kitchen.

Eventually, Wooyoung drifts over to your side while the chickens cook, where he is an energetic and unhelpful backseat gamer to both you and San. He also pointedly shows you the timer running on his phone, like he’s sharing a vital but obscure life hack to prevent burned food.

(Wooyoung also has a brief but animated talk with San’s dad over the phone, and you smile when you catch a few threads of conversation; “Yes, he’s sleeping well, yes. No, we haven’t had dinner yet, I’m working on it! I’ll make sure he eats well too.”)

The meal is delicious, just as San advertised, and perfect for fighting today’s heat. The chicken falls apart with ease, the broth rich and flavourful with ginseng and jujubes. “So? What do you think? Be honest,” Wooyoung badgers you, an intent expression on his face; one that morphs into a happy giggle when you moan around a mouthful of food, nodding at him with knitted brows.

You swallow the food down, and give Wooyoung the most puppy-eyed look you can muster. “This, uh, this isn’t a one-time thing either, right?”

“See, I told you right? Bedroom stuff isn’t the only benefit,” he grins, while San smiles contently at your appreciation of his boyfriend’s skills. One of San’s hands casually massages the back of Wooyoung’s neck, the way he is always casual in his displays of affection.

Every now and then, you do feel like a bit of a third wheel in San and Wooyoung’s presence, like when their shared braincell ricochets off each other in patterns too intricate for you to keep up with, or whenever they get a little too lost in each others’ eyes. However, Wooyoung makes up for it by promoting you to his sous-chef for making watermelon punch, while San is relegated to dish duty.

You sink back into the couch after dessert, drowsy from a sated stomach. Wooyoung offered just one drink with the guys before you take the long journey home but, much like you once burned your soup, your heavy eyes flutter shut for just one second — and suddenly there is a blanket draped across you while you’re curled up against the armrest, and your eyes are bleary and unfocused.

You blink, slightly disoriented while you need a moment to remember where you are. It’s starting to get dusky outside, and some drama plays quietly on the TV. San is sitting right next to you, with Byeol sleeping in his lap and Wooyoung dozed off on his other side, leaned into his boyfriend’s solid frame.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to crash on your couch,” you say, voice a little hoarse, but San shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, eyes crinkled as he winks at you, “I’ll forgive you for breaking the no sleepover rule.”

You make a vague groggy noise, and twist your body to try and get comfortable again. San opens his arm, almost like a question, offering himself as a cushion. You don’t think about it too much, your brain still a little fuzzy from the nap, and curl into him, head resting against his shoulder.

This way, you don’t see how San brightens with the delight of someone who persuaded a skittish street cat to sniff their hand — but you do feel a sudden light pressure on the top of your head.

For a second you stiffen in tension, thinking San kissed you; but you turn slightly to see he just pressed his cheek against your head. A small but important difference in the grey lines drawn around your comfort zone. You breathe out and relax, then wiggle a little closer against him to find a comfortable angle. Safe with your friends.

“What’s the show,” you murmur sluggishly, trying to understand why the lady on the screen looks so tearful.

“Ah, see, she has this daughter,” San whispers back, and he starts an intent explanation of her tragedy that you only half-follow before you drift off again.

San stops talking when he realises you’re a goner again, shaking his head with a chuckle. He just quietly continues to watch the movie, more than happy to be a pillow for the three sleeping figures surrounding him.

As time passes, you reap more and more benefits of your close friendship with San and Wooyoung. Sharing meals, movie nights, casual outings; and something shifts so gradually that you don’t even realise at first. You go from inviting each other into plans, to naturally including one another without second thought.

It’s not that you’re always at San’s when Wooyoung is there, just like you’re pretty sure they still have plenty of sex without you, but the group chat does pop off on the regular. Everyone treats it like a given that time will be spent together; whether it be in the bedroom or not.

Also, it’s not always just the three of you hanging out. You meet some of their friends; many you recognise from Wooyoung’s photographs — although the much-discussed Yunho remains illusive for now, out of town for work. San and Wooyoung meet some of your friends as well; San even has an opportunity to wave at Hongjoong, when he walks in on you during a video call.

(Hongjoong loves mocking you for how you used to insist that this situationship was ‘not too involved’; but meeting a shy yet warm San goes a long way to assure Hongjoong that your judgement is solid this time around.)

Of course, you also continue to reap the classical perk of a ‘friends with benefits’ deal.

You were already well aware that San and Wooyoung both have a ridiculously high libido, with energy to match — and they’ve clearly taken a liking to the dynamic of having a third in the bedroom (of having you). In fact, there truly is no need to worry about intruding on them when you are usually the one who needs a break.

Sometimes you do wonder how long their interest will hold strong. It’s all new and fresh and exciting to them right now; will they revert back to a more private lifestyle once that excitement wears off? But there are no signs of that happening anytime in the near future, and you surrender yourself to the pleasure of the moment, letting yourself get dragged along by their enthusiasm.

As you do so, the nature of your sex life with San and Wooyoung starts to split into two directions; on the one hand, scenes become more planned out as elaborate fantasies are brought to the table, fantasies that sometimes require a degree of preparation. San in particular becomes more vocal about his interests — though he does always keep you and Wooyoung at the forefront of any discussion.

(Wooyoung is always at the ready to give San an encouraging nudge when he needs it, never too surprised by what San brings up. You suspect all of this is only news to you; maybe a side-effect of the openhearted conversation you had with San.)

But while the level of planning increases for some scenes, the level of spontaneity goes up for other moments.

It’s not unheard of for a casual hang-out to take a sudden, heated turn. Once, a memorable game night escalated into a round of strip poker, which further escalated when you discovered that San has terrible luck with cards. You and Wooyoung mercilessly poked fun at him for it — until San finally had enough, and turned the night around in his favour with a firm hand.

He did not allow you or Wooyoung to remove the rest of your clothes; San simply watched while you humped against Wooyoung’s clothed crotch in a frenzy, your own panties sticky and sodden, staining his trousers with your glistening arousal. Desperately you sought out friction, not stopping your rut even when Wooyoung came in his pants with a broken whine. He squirmed and whimpered as you mindlessly kept grinding on his sensitive half-hard cock, his eyes tearing up as he let you use him. But it was on Wooyoung’s thigh that you finally found the right angle, your body shuddering with sweet relief as your cunt clenched on nothing, dripping over the infuriating layers of fabric.

Only then, while you breathlessly kissed away the stray tears on Wooyoung’s cheeks, did San approach. He pulled you off Wooyoung, laying you side by side so he could take a proper look at the mess you’d made of yourselves and your clothes. Still unsatisfied, he’d plunged his fingers underneath your ruined underwear to gather your juices, and used them to slick himself up.

You’d moaned as he fucked your tits, but not as loudly as Wooyoung; San palmed him roughly through his crusted trousers, forcibly bringing him to another orgasm. San had abashedly apologised for making a mess of your bra… but only after he’d stuffed you with three fingers covered with his own cum, pulling your panties aside just enough for access.

That night, you learned a very important lesson about what happens when you tease San too much for losing a game.

(…Maybe not the lesson that San intended, since you were not exactly convinced to never tease him again; but still! A lesson was learned.)

At other times, not all planned endeavours go exactly according to plan either.

You still look back fondly on the time Wooyoung suggested everyone wore sleep masks; thinking it would lead to an evening of excitement and surprise, guessing at who was touching and being touched. But instead, you and the guys kept bursting into giggles as you blindly pawned at one another, clumsily fumbling around on the bed. San finally called it to a halt when he nearly got elbowed in his stomach — but it was not the last time you’d experiment with the masks. Just… not everyone at once.

In many ways, this thing with San and Wooyoung is the ideal situation for you. No pressure of romantic expectations, and a growing friendship that you’re coming to appreciate even more than the mind-blowing sex. (Which is saying a lot, considering.)

There is just that slight nagging in the back of your head sometimes.

The feeling that there is a timer on this arrangement, and that you are waiting for it to end. How long before something changes? Before San and Wooyoung move on to different things, or they choose to ‘focus on each other’, to move in together elsewhere, or start a family that does not include you? Before they simply… lose interest?

You tell yourself it’s silly; you stepped into this knowing fully well that you won’t be fucking around with them forever, and you need to trust that your friendship has grown into something substantial enough to survive a change of situation. That it will last, even after you fall a few steps down the list of their priorities. No matter how unlikely it is that you stay this involved in each others’ lives indefinitely, you will stay involved.

But the thought continues to nag, as thoughts are wont to do.

“We can still be friends if we stop having sex, right?”

You and Wooyoung are hanging out at your place after a long walk through the neighbourhood; Wooyoung with his new camera in hand, you mostly just trudging along for company. Now you’re resting up with a cool drink, keeping Wooyoung company once again as he gives the photos a cursory examination.

But now he blinks at you, surprised and confused by the unexpected topic. The question had slipped out of you without too much forethought, just an impulse you chased during a lull in conversation.

“…Why would we stop having sex?” he asks, a puzzled frown on his face. Like you’ve given him a riddle to solve that he can’t work out. “Do you want to stop having sex?”

“No, of course not!” you are quick to reassure him. “But you know. Things change sometimes. Situations change, priorities change. You can’t always know the future.”

“I guess,” Wooyoung says gingerly, like he never thought that far ahead before. Something draws across his face that you have a real hard time pinning down — but it clears up quickly, making way for a cheeky grin. “Yeah, obviously we’d still be friends. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

The grin is reassuring, but you can’t quite shake Wooyoung’s earlier expression from your mind. “Good,” you say, winking back at him. “Hey to be clear, I seriously don’t plan to stop things. I just… wanted to make sure, I guess.”

“Yeah, no, I get it! You’re making sure we don’t ditch you,” he teases, poking at your cheek. “Just don’t ditch us either, alright?”

“Of course not,” you say, rolling your eyes as you wave his hand away. “That was the whole poi— Oh!” You get distracted when your phone lights up with a text, so you don’t catch how quickly Wooyoung’s smile fades again. “San’s on his way, how about we get started on some food?”

Somewhere along the line, you’ve managed to convince Wooyoung that you’re not a walking fire hazard, which has led to the occasional team-up to make dinner. And today you are extra antsy to get started, considering what has been planned for later this evening.

By the time San walks in, you and Wooyoung have fallen into your familiar patterns in the kitchen, with easy and cheerful chatter that has chased the earlier awkwardness out of memory. San kisses the top of Wooyoung’s head, smacks you on the backside, light and casual (you aren’t even fazed anymore), and swipes a piece of pork from right underneath your nose.

“Aish, just five more minutes, you can’t even wait that long?” Wooyoung scolds him, but you secretly feed San another piece not ten seconds later.

Wooyoung gives you a massive side-eye when he catches you sneak bites to San — but in your defence, it’s really hard to be firm with San when he’s looking at you with shiny guileless eyes and stuffed cheeks. “The faster we eat, the faster we get to the fun after, right?” you say, barely even trying to justify yourself.

“Everyone’s always in a hurry these days. Rushing through their meal so quick they won’t even have time to taste it. Does no one appreciate well-cooked food anymore?” Wooyoung grouses, but you are not fooled. He is just as restless are you are, casting regular glances at you and San.

After all, there is quite the night planned for Wooyoung.

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riekirei · 1 month

Text

retroactive. — nishimura riki

“it’d be easier if you just didn’t ask, but it’d also be easier if she wasn’t his last.”

pairing: boyfriend!riki x afab!reader | genre(s): angst | content/warning: both riki and reader are of legal age in this work, consumption of alcohol, mentions of getting drunk, riki calls reader baby and vice versa

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: i’m back from the dead, hi guys. i hope you enjoy reading thisss. please ignore any typos or grammatical errors (if there are any) and lmk if i missed any warnings.

[🎧 now playing: did you like her in the morning? by NIKI]

you slipped your shoes on, heading out the door. you were on your way to yongsan-gu to accompany your boyfriend, riki, to a get-together at a pub with his friends. it wasn’t really your thing to go out drinking with your boyfriend and a few other people at around 10 pm at night, but you agreed to go.

riki said he’d meet you at a nearby landmark in yongsan-gu as it’d take him just a few minutes to get there since the building he works at was in the district. you call a taxi and make your way there. the ride to the district was short, it took around 20 minutes considering how late in the night it was and how you were just within seoul anyway.

the moment you step out of the vehicle, you walked around for quite a bit before you spotted riki, who stood by a bus stop, leaning on its shade, waiting for you to arrive. you ran up to him, hugging him from behind. riki quickly turned around and greeted you with a big smile on his face. “am i late?” you ask, looking up at him. “nope, looks like your just on time” he responds, showing you the time on his phone’s lockscreen. he wrapped his arm around you and rested his hand on your shoulder. “the pub’s nearby, actually. let’s get going” he says. “okay baby” you reply, taking his hand off your shoulder and locking it with yours as you walk.

after around 5 minutes of walking, you two finally reached the pub. the neon sign fixed on the pub’s entrance flickered and the chatter of people from inside brought the night to life. riki walks in first and you closely follow. you walk past a couple of tables before finding riki’s group of friends settled on a long table further back into the pub. they all greet the two of you as you sat down on the two empty seats. riki’s friends from work, from highschool, and from anywhere else were there, considering most of them knew each other anyway, but you didn’t expect his most recent ex to be there. his ex of 2 years. you didn’t really know that much about riki’s past relationships, but you for sure knew about this one. she was that one girl he really got along with and they just ended up seeing each other. they had so many common interests and personality traits. i mean, it didn’t mean you and him were any less alike, but the fact she was his last just wasn’t something that you could move past by.

“hey? you okay?” riki tapped you on your shoulder, snapping you out of your little zone-out moment. “oh, yeah, sorry” you say, shifting your focus onto the group’s conversation. “so, riki, y/n, how’s things between you two?” heeseung asks. “we’ve been doing well, nearing to our two year anniversary on november actually” riki answers with both of your hands intertwined, resting on his lap. “and our work schedules have loosened up a bit so we’ve been able to see each other a lot often recently” you add. the chat between the whole group continued as you two immersed yourselves into it as well.

the night passes but you can’t help but notice the stolen glances riki’s ex has made with both you and riki. they’ve exchanged some words too while in conversation with the rest of the group. maybe you were just overthinking it? you knew it was a get-together with his friends, and you are his girlfriend after all, so maybe there was no malice or intent of her glances. plus, you and riki have been together for quite some time. but two years? him and her? of course it would be impossible for him to forget. but he was with you now, and he looks like he’s the happiest he’s ever been. there’s no problem there, right? but why has this whole scenario been messing with your brain since the moment you sat down on the table?

you take a shot of soju, slamming the shot glass back down onto the table. you were probably on your third, fourth, maybe even fifth bottle? you don’t know, but you were lowkey getting drunk at that point, actually, everyone at the table was getting drunk at that point. after some time, you all decide to stand up and head home. you weren’t as dizzy, so you were able to slowly stand upright. you sighed to yourself, the night was finally over.

as everyone walked towards the front door to exit the pub, riki’s ex stumbles forward. she probably had gotten sloppy after a few bottles of soju. riki’s hands naturally found their way onto her waist, standing her back upright. “you okay?” he asks. she nods and hums in respond, with heavy eyelids and a face tinted with the color red. you stood there, blankly watching what had just unfolded before you. you didn’t know how to react, you didn’t want to cause a scene. were you just being overly sensitive? it was just coincidental that she so happened to have tripped and riki was right behind her. but, you saw the concern in his eyes and how it was second nature for him to have placed his hands onto her waist. this whole thing was most probably not a new thing to riki. how he’d spend the whole night with her, drinking and having fun, how he’d drive her home in the same ford he drives around now, and how he’d probably walk her inside, making sure she got home safe. was the alcohol getting to you? or were these thoughts coming from your completely sane, rational, sober self?

you let it pass until everyone parted ways. riki walked you to his car which was parked somewhere near his company’s building. he didn’t notice anything wrong the whole walk there, but he sensed the tension as soon as he shut the car doors. the air grew thick. you tried avoiding riki by looking out the car’s window, or mindlessly staring into the road ahead. in his mind, he was trying to work out what he had done wrong. were you just sleepy? were you just tipsy? or were you simply just not in the mood? he got a hint that it may have had something to do with his ex, knowing you and how you think about such things.

the car ride to your apartment was silent, with only the sounds of the engine, the other cars passing by, and the road being heard. you two did not exchange a single word the entire drive. riki parked the car by the sidewalk of your building, switching the engine off. he finally broke the silence by saying “hey, i’ll walk you inside, ‘kay? i don’t want you getting hu-“ but you cut him off halfway “no, riki, it’s alright. i’ll be alright.” “but, baby, it’s like 3 in the morning. it isn’t-“ and you cut him off once more “i said it was alright, didn’t i? just go home, riki.” you said, walking towards the lobby of your apartment building. he walked and followed closely behind you, not letting you go up to your apartment alone, both under the influence and with something going on between the two of you too. “baby, look, i don’t understand what’s wrong? what did i do?” he asks you while looking you straight in the eye. you couldn’t do anything but look away from him as the two of you stood in the elevator going up to the third floor of the building. you storm down the hallway, towards your flat. the tears formed in your eyes, holding them back from streaming down your face. “hey, hey, baby-“ riki says, fastening his pace to keep up with you. you grab your keys and unlock the door, shutting it close as you walk in. he stops the door from closing and grabs your hand, stopping you from walking in further into your apartment unit. “what is it that you want, riki? WHAT?” you exclaim as you finally turn around to come face to face with him. he comes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him before leaning onto it. the tears formed from earlier began to escape the corners of your eyes as you start to sob in front of your boyfriend. “i’m sorry, baby. w-what did i do?” he says, pulling you into his embrace. all you could do was cry in his arms. he caressed your back, rubbing it up and down to relieve you. he repeated the words “i’m sorry” all over and over again. the sight of his disheartened girlfriend in his arms, crying her eyeballs out, shattered him into a million pieces.

“why are you hugging me right now?” you quietly say, wiping your swollen eyes with the palms of your hand. “what do you mean, baby? you’re my girlfriend, why wouldn’t i hug you?” riki answered, with tears running down his cheeks too. “t-then what the hell was that earlier? do you still love her? do you love her more than you love me?” you ask him, looking up at him. you pause. “i saw the way you two looked at each other, how you to conversed and interacted still. and i’m probably stupid for thinking all this, knowing you two have moved onto new relationships, but i don’t know if i can compete with her. and it’s driving me fucking crazy, riki. it’s driving me fucking insane.” you add. “y/n, baby. past is past, okay? i love you and i’ve been the happiest i’ve ever been. being with you, being able to love and care for you, it’s all i could ask for. please don’t think of whatever happened earlier as something different. please don’t take it as a sign that i haven’t moved on just yet. she trips and falls, i catch her, and it ends there, okay? but you could trip and fall a million times, i’d always be there to stand you back upright and it doesn’t end just there. even if you try and fail, i’ll be there for you. even if you cry or weep, i’ll be there wiping your tears. even if you jump with happiness, i’ll be there celebrating with you.” riki responds as tears continue to come streaming down his face. “i love you, y/n, hm?” he holds you tighter. “i love you too, baby. i’m sorry-“ “no, don’t be sorry. it’s okay. we’re okay.” you lightly push yourself out of riki’s embrace and look up to smile at him. you pull him towards your room and you tuck the both of you into your bed.

you drift off into sleep, buried in riki’s nuzzle. he kisses your forehead and finally falls asleep, holding you close til morning.

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