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May 13

home girls. — l. raj

⤷ warnings. oral (r and lara receiving), fingering (r receiving), strap on use, doggy style, praise kink, degradation kink, riding, slight mention of math (ft my terrible explanations), all the people in this fic are 18+

summary. you and lara have hated each other for gosh knows how long. the two of you, never getting along, though you had a past together. after getting partnered with her in tutoring with your friend sophia, you think things couldn't get worse. spoiler alert, you end up sleeping with a girl you never thought you would.

postcards. hi my loves, this fic is finallllyyy out (i know it's long but i promise it's worth it!)

wc :: 11k

first period history feels like a punishment for a crime you didn’t commit.

the hallway is still too bright, the kind of fluorescent that hums faintly, buzzing against your temples like it’s daring you to complain. you drag your bag along the floor, the straps digging into your shoulder, and think about how warm your bed was thirty minutes ago, silk pillowcase, blackout curtains, a perfectly good morning wasted.

manon is already ahead of you, long legs carrying her across the room like she’s marching into a battlefield. she drops into the chair beside yours, leans back so far the legs of the chair creak, and mutters, “i swear to god, if she makes us copy notes again, i’m dropping out and joining a circus.”

daniela isn’t any more subtle. she takes the seat across the aisle and lets her head thunk against the desk, perfectly manicured nails drumming a lazy rhythm against the wood. “she’s, like, older than my grandmother,” daniela says, voice muffled by her sleeve. “what’s she even still doing here? this woman should be sipping margaritas in florida, not making me memorize dates about dead guys.”

you half-smile but you’re too tired to actually laugh. instead, you slide into your seat, let your bag slip to the floor with a soft thud, and rest your cheek against your arm. the wood smells faintly of disinfectant and pencil shavings, clean but still vaguely tragic.

at the front, the professor, mrs. thompson, who’s been threatening retirement since before you could read, stands like a relic herself, thin glasses perched on her nose, a stack of handouts clutched like they’re sacred texts. she adjusts her cardigan, clears her throat with the weight of someone who’s been doing this for decades, and says, “morning, everyone,” in a voice that makes morning feel like a personal insult.

sophia and megan, of course, are already deep in a homework crisis, their whispers slicing through the heavy quiet like paper cuts.

“ugh, you actually did the whole thing?” megan groans, slouched so low in her chair she looks like she’s trying to melt out of existence. she leans sideways toward sophia, phone in one hand, the other reaching like a pickpocket aiming for sophia’s pristine notes.

“of course i did,” sophia says, matter-of-fact, flipping through a perfectly organized binder, tabs, color-coded highlights, margins so straight they look printed. “she said full paragraphs, analysis of at least two trade systems, two pages minimum.”

megan makes a face like someone just told her calculus got moved to five a.m. forever. “i can’t write that much before lunch. just let me look at yours, i’ll, like… make it different.”

“no, megan,” sophia hisses, tugging her notes just out of reach without even looking up, like she’s been through this rodeo a thousand times. “i’m not getting accused of plagiarism because you can’t be bothered.”

“i’m not bothering!” megan insists, poking at the binder again, this time more like a sulky cat than an actual threat. “i literally can’t spell half these words anyway, it’s safe.”

sophia sighs, the kind of long-suffering sigh that belongs to saints and straight-a students. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” megan says, smirking, “here i am. ready to learn. kinda.”

meanwhile, your eyelids are staging a quiet rebellion. every blink lasts a little too long, every breath feels heavier than it should. the droning hum of the overhead lights and the soft scratch of pens on paper melt together into a lullaby you never asked for.

you groan quietly, a sound that’s equal parts exhaustion and despair, and angle your face further into the desk like maybe if you disappear into the wood grain no one will notice you skipping consciousness entirely.

manon nudges your arm with the blunt end of a pen. “hey,” she whispers, “don’t flatline yet. you still have calculus after this, remember?”

your soul leaves your body at the reminder.

daniela just gives you a lazy wave from across the aisle, like she’s already spiritually dead and waiting for you to join her.

the teacher starts lecturing, something about medieval economies and feudal systems.

there’s soft whispering coming from your left, then your right. daniela and manon were bickering about something. you don’t even catch what sparked it this time, only the sharp, under-the-breath swearing and the way daniela is gesturing with a pen like she’s ready to stab someone with it.

“you’re literally wrong,” manon mutters, leaning halfway across the aisle, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness.

“i’m not wrong, you just don’t know how to read,” daniela snaps back, her voice climbing a little too high for a ‘whisper.’

a couple heads turn. the professor keeps writing something on the board, chalk screeching faintly like a warning siren, before she finally stops mid-sentence and turns around, slow, like a predator that’s finally caught the scent.

“ms. avanzini,” she says her tone not angry, but laced with that special kind of teacher-exhaustion that could level entire cities. “since you seem to have so much energy to spare, perhaps a change of seating will help. this isn’t cheer practice you know. ”

the room goes quiet. daniela blinks.

“front row,” the professor orders, pointing to the empty desk directly in front of her podium, the academic version of exile.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. manon is already smirking like she just won a championship game.

but then it gets better.

“sophia,” the professor says without even looking up from her attendance sheet, “please switch seats with ms. avanzini.”

there’s a beat of silence. then, slowly, like a storm cloud forming, sophia looks up from her color-coded notes.

“what?” she says, voice tight, like someone just threatened to set fire to her planner.

“switch. seats,” the professor repeats, already moving on with her lecture notes like she didn’t just unleash chaos on the classroom ecosystem.

sophia gathers her pens, three different shades, all uncapped, with the kind of precision only fury can power. she doesn’t slam them into her pencil case, but you can feel how much she wants to. her eyes cut toward daniela like she’s been personally betrayed by the gods.

daniela, of course, struts past her with a slow, obnoxious grin, like she’s walking a red carpet instead of to academic purgatory.

by the time sophia sits down next to you, her jaw is clenched so tight you can practically hear her teeth grinding.

you and manon don’t even try to be subtle anymore. you’re both laughing, soft but shaking, the kind of laugh that makes it hard to breathe.

sophia just stares ahead, murderous.

your phone buzzes in your lap, a soft vibration that cuts through sophia’s silent rage and manon’s barely-contained snickering. you glance down, already knowing who it’s from before you even see the name.

james: can we meet at lunch?

james is a good boyfriend, steady, sweet, the kind of boyfriend who brings you coffee when you forget breakfast and walks you to class even if it makes him late. you know he’s in love. you like him, maybe even love him in your own way. just not in the way he probably deserves.

you type back, fingers moving automatically.

sure.

you slip your phone face-down on the desk, lean your chin into your palm, and glance sideways at manon. she catches the movement, eyebrows raised in a silent, nosy question.

you just shrug. nothing urgent. nothing worth a smirk or a whisper. just lunch plans with a boy you’re supposed to feel more for than you do.

manon grins anyway, like she knows something you don’t.

finally after what felt like going into the next century of life, you escape the classroom only to go to your next worst class of the day.

calculus bc is in the coldest classroom on campus. like, clinically cold. the kind of cold that feels intentional, like the college is trying to freeze the motivation out of you before derivatives can finish the job.

you and sophia walk in together, still seething about the seating swap, you, still half-smiling about it. she doesn’t even ask where you’re sitting; it’s automatic by now. second row, middle section, good view of the board, not too close to get called on.

you drop your bag, slide into the chair, and try not to think about how this is supposed to be your best math level and you’re still drowning. sophia, of course, already has her notebook open.

then you see her.

lara.

she’s across the room, like always, window seat, third row, sunlight catching in her hair like even physics is on her side. she doesn’t look at you, not right away, but it’s impossible not to notice her. everyone notices lara. she’s the kind of girl whose name travels faster than her footsteps, a reputation built out of charm, sharpness, and a smile that could end careers.

the most popular girl on the campus. effortlessly. not just cheer captain-pretty or top-of-class smart, she’s popular popular. her parties are borderline myth, her beauty unmatched, and she apparently has the reputation for being best in bed. not that you care, but once you caught manon practically drooling over her. people don’t just know lara; they orbit her.

she laughs at something a guy next to her says, head tipping back just slightly.

you shift in your seat, already annoyed with her. sophia is already scribbling something at the top of her page, date, topic, clean underlines.

“you okay?” she asks without looking up.

“yeah,” you lie, voice even. “just tired.”

across the room, lara’s laugh floats over the low murmur of the class, and you keep your eyes on the empty page in front of you like it might hold all the answers you wish you had.

mr. hamilton starts pacing at the front of the room, marker squeaking against the whiteboard as he drones on about integrals and limits. your head is halfway pressed to your notebook, pen hovering uselessly, when lara raises her hand.

“uhhh… so, like, why can’t we just… divide by the exponent instead of integrating?” she asks, smiling like she’s solved the mystery of the universe.

your jaw tightens. you stare at her for a beat too long, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out:

“remind us again why you are in this class?”

the class erupts. soft giggles, stifled laughs, even sophia can’t help snorting into her sleeve. lara freezes for just a second, shocked, and the faintest crease forms between her perfectly arched brows.

“oh, y/n,” she says sweetly, loud enough for a few nearby students to hear, “i didn’t realize we were keeping score on who can pretend to care about school more. you must be exhausted from trying to look busy all the time.”

a few snickers ripple through the class. sophia shoots you a glance, half horrified, half amused. manon would’ve been laughing so hard she’d fall out of her seat.

you grit your teeth but force a smile.

mr. hamilton clears his throat again, clearly aware of the tension but not wanting to intervene. “alright, let’s get back to integrals,” he says, and you know he’s just hoping no one escalates further.

you’re slumped in your chair after class, backpack half-open, scribbling something in your notebook that isn’t notes because you’re not exactly sure what.

“ugh,” you groan, throwing your pen down. “i’m never passing this class.”

sophia looks up from her perfectly neat notes, eyebrows raised. “you’re not failing,” she says, voice cautious. “you just… need to pay attention.”

“i pay attention!” you snap, though it sounds more like whining. “i just… don’t get it! maybe if there was extra credit or something i could actually—ugh!”

mr. hamilton clears his throat behind you. “y/n,” he says, calm but firm, “i think i have a solution. sophia, if you could, you’ll work with y/n on tutoring, and if she gets over a 90 on the mid-unit test, she’ll be guaranteed to pass the class.”

your eyes widen. your mouth opens. “wait, what? that’s it?”

“that’s it,” he says. “you just need to put in the work, you’re not doing that bad ms. y/l/n”

sophia just nods, already flipping her notebook closed like this is routine. you groan, partly relieved, partly annoyed that it’s… still you who has to try harder.

then, of course, lara appears at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, smirk already in place. “hey, mr. hamilton,” she purrs, “is there, like, any way i could bump my grade up?”

mr. hamilton raises an eyebrow but stays calm. “ms. raj, as i have mentioned to you multiple times, you are close to failing my class. but, you can join y/n and sophia for tutoring sessions. and if you get above a 90 on the mid-unit test, i’ll see what i can do.” “thank you mr. hamilton!” she perks up.

you feel your stomach drop. slowly.

you look at lara. she’s smirking like she just dealt you the worst hand in the universe, arms crossed, leaning back like she’s enjoying your pain.

“what the hell,” you mutter under your breath, slumping back in your chair.

sophia glances at you, concerned laced in her eyes.

lara just tilts her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “aww, don’t look so upset,” she says, soft, sharp. “it’ll be fun!”

you grip your bag’s strap tigher. fun is definitely not the word you’d use.

mr. hamilton claps his hands together, oblivious to the tension you’re now vibrating with. “alright, that’s settled. y/n, lara, sophia — coordinate schedules and start tutoring tomorrow.”

you groan again, louder this time, and bury your face in your hands. lara’s grin grows wider.

lunch is chaos, as usual. the cafe’s line was long, and the chatter is loud enough to make your head spin. you grab your food and drink bringing it to the table, groaning the moment manon spots you.

“ohhh, look who’s miserable,” she says, grin wide, practically bouncing in her seat. “y/n, why so glum? did calculus ruin your life already?”

“i am not miserable,” you protest, stabbing at a limp salad like it’s the enemy. “for once calculus isn’t the reason for my death. it’s the fact that i’m tutoring with sophia,”

manon laughs, “oh you’re cooked,” she giggles. “that’s not the worst part” “it isn’t?” daniela jokes, receiving a slap on the shoulder from sophia. “i’m being tutored with lara raj.”

manon loses it at this point, wheezing between her first. her hand is hitting the table, and you to the point that you think the girl is having a heart attack. you really didn’t think this was funny.

you groan, leaning your forehead against the table. “i hate her so much, it’s just ugh—”

megan, groans, waving her half-eaten sandwich around like a flag of protest. “ugh, i’m starving,” she whines, voice high and dramatic. “like, i can’t even function. and this cafe is tragic.”

“yeah, well, try being stuck with the most popular girl in school for an hour, three times a week” you mutter under your breath, ignoring the salad completely now.

manon wipes tears from her eyes, still laughing. “i can’t wait, i’d pay good money to see this.”

you glare at her, but she’s already turned to another friend, grinning like she just delivered the punchline of the century.

megan groans again, louder this time. “and also, i need food. like, actual food. not… sadness on a tray.”

you huff and shove your tray towards megan, letting her have whatever you hadn’t touched on your tray. your mind couldn’t stop thinking about tutoring, lara’s smirk, and how much you’re going to hate this whole thing.

and fuck, the first session was today.

your phone starts buzzing. one buzz, then two, then three — a rapid little burst in your lap.

james hey where are you?been waiting outside the libraryare you okay?did i do something?

you close your eyes and sigh.

you shoot up from the table, grabbing your bag. “i’ll be back,” you mumble to no one in particular, already weaving through the crowd.

by the time you spot him, he’s leaning by the lockers talking to his teammates, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, looking like a sad golden retriever who’s been left outside too long.

“hey,” you say softly, jogging the last few steps.

his face lights up for a second, but then settles into something quieter. “hey… where were you?”

you bite your lip, awkward. “sorry. lunch ran late and… i kinda forgot to text. my bad.”

he shrugs, trying to keep it casual, but you can see it in his eyes a little flicker of uncertainty.

you lean in, press a quick kiss to his cheek, automatic, practiced, and pull back. “i have to go, though. tutoring session with sophia. calculus is destroying me.”

his shoulders drop a little, but he nods. “oh. okay. you’ll call me later?”

“yeah,” you say, already stepping back, already thinking about how much this next hour is going to test your patience.

you wave as you turn, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but you pretend not to notice.

the library is too quiet. you’ve been here fifteen minutes already, sat by a table in the back with sophia, who looks like she’s training for a tutoring olympics, textbooks stacked like a fortress, highlighters lined up by color.

you, on the other hand, have been doodling in the corner of your notes, trying not to think about how much you hate this.

“she’s late,” sophia says, finally glancing at her phone. her voice is clipped, sharp, like she’s already mentally rewriting her schedule in anger.

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. “of course she’s late. lara doesn’t do ‘on time.’ she does ‘when i feel like it.’”

sophia rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment. she’s too irritated to care.

and then, finally, lara strolls in, like she’s arriving at a brunch, not a tutoring session she’s already late for. her purse is slung over one shoulder, hair perfect, coffee in hand, grin soft but smug.

“sorry,” she says, dropping into the chair across from sophia. “traffic. you know how it is.”

“you walk to campus,” sophia deadpans, already flipping open the textbook.

lara just smiles like that’s an irrelevant detail.

it starts small, lara leaning toward sophia, asking a question, then another, then laughing at something sophia says, like the two of them are just casually vibing instead of actually working. sophia, annoyed but too polite to shut it down, starts explaining directly to lara, not even looking at you anymore.

you sit there, watching it happen, feeling your chest tighten in that weird, annoyed way. this was supposed to be your tutoring. sophia is your academic lifeline, she’s literally one of your best frineds. and now lara is leaning in like she owns the table, like she’s the star of this miserable little show.

you huff, loudly. not on purpose, but definitely loud enough.

lara glances at you, brows arched. “something wrong, y/n?”

“yeah,” you snap, finally slamming your pen down. “this is supposed to be helping us get a good grade, not some dumb ‘oh this is my life, oh i’m so popular’. maybe stop trying to steal sophia and actually let her help both of us?”

the words hang there, sharp, heavy, a little louder than you intended. a couple of people at nearby tables glance over. sophia just blinks, somewhere between impressed and oh god, please don’t start a fight in the library.

lara leans back slowly, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “aw,” she says lightly, “you jealous, or just cranky because you don’t understand anything?”

“it’s not like you get it either” you hear sophia mumble under her breath.

lara’s eyes flick to sophia, sharp for a split second, then back to you, like the game just got a little less fun.

sophia sighs loudly, throwing her pen onto the table. “okay. no. i’m not doing this. i have another study group in, like, twenty minutes, and if i sit here while you two play ‘who can out-snark the other,’ i’m going to lose brain cells.”

you blink. “wait—”

“nope,” sophia says, already gathering her things, shoving a textbook toward the middle of the table. “here. these are practice problems. do them. together. i don’t care how. just… figure it out. like adults.”

and then she’s gone, storming off with the kind of quiet fury that makes even the librarians glance up.

the table feels bigger now, quieter, heavier. you glance at lara, expecting her to still be smirking, but she isn’t.

she’s staring down at the worksheet like it’s written in another language, brows furrowed, pen tapping nervously against the paper.

“ugh,” she mutters, shoving her hair behind her ear. “what the hell even is this. why are there letters in math?”

for a long second, you just watch her, genuinely lost, shoulders tense, her usual confidence cracked wide open.

you could let her drown. it’d be satisfying, even poetic.

but instead, you hear yourself sigh. you reach over, tugging the paper slightly toward your side of the table. “you have to factor that part first,” you say flatly, pointing to the cluster of symbols. “see? break it down, simplify it, then integrate.”

lara looks up, surprised, eyes searching yours like she’s trying to figure out if this is a trap.

“here,” you say again, softer this time, walking her through each step.

“this cancels. that drops down. now you can do the actual integral.”

her pen moves hesitantly, copying what you say, and for the first time all day, lara isn’t teasing, or trying to win, she’s just quiet. listening.

the two of you work through the problems in tense silence, your explanations clipped but precise, her pen moving hesitantly at first and then with more confidence as you guide her.

you factor, she copies. you simplify, she repeats. you integrate, she nods, lips pressed in concentration. the air between you isn’t friendly, exactly, but it’s… functional.

finally, you reach the end of the worksheet. the last problem is solved, and for the first time that day, lara sits back in her chair, pencil still in hand, eyes scanning the paper like she’s double-checking that she didn’t just dream all of it.

“…done,” she mutters, almost reluctantly, like finishing this was some kind of humiliation she’ll need to process later.

you lean back too, stretching your arms, a quiet relief washing over you. “yeah. done. don’t mess it up on the test,” you add, tone neutral, but inside you’re still simmering from the earlier snark.

lara looks up at you, and for a second, there’s something almost human in her expression, maybe gratitude, maybe recognition, maybe annoyance at herself for needing help, but before you can read it, she’s gathering her things.

“i’ll… see you,” she says lightly, tucking the worksheet into her binder, and then she’s gone, slipping out of the library.

[…]

the next weekend stadium lights cut through the night, casting long shadows across the field. the air smells faintly of turf and autumn, and every breath you take feels sharp and electric.

you, sophia, and megan are pressed against the railing, voices already hoarse from cheering. “come on, manon!” you scream, waving your arms like she can see you from the field. “score!”

“yes!” megan shouts, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “you’ve got this!”

sophia leans forward, eyes wide, and laughs. “i swear, if manon doesn’t score, i’m—ugh, she’s too good. and just—look at dani!”

you follow her gaze, spotting daniela on the sidelines, rallying the cheer squad, hair pulled into a high ponytail that bounces with every move, uniform perfect, grin wide. your heart does a little flip. “seriously. dani looks so good in her cheer outfit, i mean she is captain for a reason.” you say, voice cracking from excitement and screaming.

the game is intense, manon weaving through defenders, the ball at her feet like she’s born to do this. you scream every step, and when she finally scores, all three of you leap up, clapping and hugging each other, voices raw but ecstatic.

after the final whistle, the field is buzzing with victory. manon runs over, face flushed, chest heaving, while daniela tosses her pom-poms into the air, laughing.

you shove through the small crowd, bounding up to them. “manon! daniela! you two were amazing!”

manon grins, sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, and laughs. “thanks! we tried!”

daniela throws an arm around manon, then turns to you three, flashing that perfect, triumphant smile.

megan nudges you, whispering, “there’s an afterparty at amelia’s house, wanna go?”

you grin. “hell yes.”

sophia nods, eyes twinkling in the stadium lights. “please i can’t go back and look at another textbook.”

manon gasps, and daniela bursts out laughing. “come on sophia we know you miss your textbooks, you literally have names for them.”

you try to stifle a laugh, holding onto megan for support.

the five of you go back to your shared apartment to get ready, blasting music in the car on the way to the party resulting in sophia yelling for them to keep it down.

the party is loud. bass shaking the walls.

crowds pressed together like the floor might collapse from under them. and you’re not even two sips into your drink when you see him.

james.

corner of the room.

not alone. the girl’s hand is on his arm.

she’s laughing, head tilted, red lipstick smeared just slightly.

he’s grinning. not pulling away. not looking uncomfortable. just... enjoying it.

you don’t even feel it, the heartbreak, the panic. none of it. just a cold kind of clarity that feels cleaner than rage.

you walk up, still holding your drink.

“hey,” you say, voice flat.

james jumps like he forgot you existed. “y/n— wait— i wasn’t— she just—”

you blink at him. “save it, we’re done.”

his mouth opens. no sound.

and you don’t stay long enough to watch him make excuses.

you turn, push through the crowd, sip your drink again like it didn’t just happen.

and then—

of course.

lara, leaning against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, hair glowing under shitty LED lights. looking at you like she knows you’re seconds from cracking.

“you clean up nice,” she says, voice low and lazy. “should’ve dressed like this when you were still someone’s girlfriend.”

you blink. exhale. force a laugh.

“jealous?”

lara hums. pushes off the counter.

“of what? that he got bored of playing boyfriend to a spoiled brat? i’d last, like, two weeks before lighting you on fire.”

your mouth tightens. you take a step toward her.

“you don’t know anything about me.”

“i know you’re faking it,” she says, and there’s something different in her voice now. quieter. sharper. “you’re trying so hard to look untouched. like none of it mattered. but your mascara’s smudged and your hand’s shaking.”

you look down. fuck. your grip on the cup is white-knuckle.

you want to slap her. you want to scream.

you want her to shut up.

instead, you say,

“if you’re so obsessed with me, why don’t you just say it?”

lara tilts her head, eyes glinting. “you really want to do this here?”

“i don’t want anything from you.”

“you’re a bad liar.”

and then she’s in your space, too close, too warm, too much, and you’re grabbing her wrist, and her mouth is already on yours.

you don’t remember walking to the empty bedroom upstairs. just the feel of her hand on your lower back, steering. the heat under your skin. the way her smirk made your blood boil.

the door clicks shut behind you and it’s like a match to gasoline.

her hands are everywhere, mouth bruising, hips aligned with yours like she already knew the rhythm. you tug her jacket off like it offended you. she pulls your skirt higher, fingers dragging up the inside of your thigh.

you gasp into her mouth when she bites your lip.

“still think i’m easy?” she murmurs, breath hot against your jaw.

“shut up,” you whisper, nails digging into her shoulder.

you shove her back onto the bed, climb on top. but her hands settle on your hips like they’ve always belonged there. she’s still smirking.

you kiss her again, harder this time. she groans, tilts her head, lets you take what you want.

she tugs your top down. laughs softly when you shiver.

“so high-maintenance,” she says, lips brushing your collarbone. “but god, look at you.”

“i hate you,” you breathe, even as you lean into her touch.

“sure you do.”

she flips you before you can stop her, fast, smooth, practiced, her body pinning yours to the mattress, lips trailing down your throat. you arch into her, frustrated and wanting and already losing the thread of whatever this started as.

your hands are in her hair. your legs around her waist. you can’t think straight.

“say it again,” she whispers against your skin.

“what?”

“that you hate me.”

you swallow hard.

“i—”

but the words fall apart when her fingers slip under your waistband and your breath catches.

“that’s what i thought,” she says.

her fingers are quick to slide down your shorts. the scent of your arousal filling the room, your panties soaked.

“for someone who claims they hate me, you sure are soaked.”

her mouth is everywhere, your jaw, your throat, the hollow of your collarbone, like she’s mapping you out, claiming each piece for herself. you grip at her shirt, half wanting to shove her away, half desperate to pull her closer.

the bed dips as she shifts her weight, and suddenly she’s situated between your legs, eyes glinting in the dim light.

“you hate me, huh?” she whispers, her fingers teasing your entrance.

“more than anything,” you breathe back, though your fingers curl into her hair, betraying you.

her laugh is low, almost a purr, and then her mouth is on yours again, deeper this time, leaving no space between you.

she’s makes one move and your panties are off, your pussy now exposed to her. never did you think you’d be in this situation with the girl you hated most.

her fingers tease your entrance, tracing soft patterns in your slick, before pressing harshly on your clit, making you arch your back.

your breathing had gotten heavier, you needed her to touch you. it was as if she read your mind, because seconds later lara’s lips were pressed on your clit. she left soft kisses before sucking on it harsher.

your back arched, soft moans and whimpers leaving your mouth as your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harshly.

her tongue made its way through your folds, she ate like she had been starved, like she had been waiting for this for years.

her tongue worked faster, flicking your clit, teasing your hole, she was feral over your taste. and the sounds you made drove her insane.

you look down at lara, fully clothed contrasting you being fully naked, the girl below you had the same instinct, looking back up at you. her pupils were dilated, the sight in itself made you even wetter.

“fuck-fuck-fuck, lara” you whimper, your fingers clutching the sheets, knuckles going white. you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

lara is quick to replace her tongue with her fingers. two fingers making its way into your pussy quickly thrusting. her fingers worked quick. her weight on the bed adjusting so she could be face to face with you.

one of her hands gripped your jaw, “keep

your eyes on me if you wanna cum baby” you nod quickly, your moans getting louder and louder by the second.

your thighs kept trying to close on instinct the pleasure feeling too much, but lara wasn’t having it. “you wanna cum don’t you? wanna be good f’me?” you nod quick “then behave, i can always leave you here all messy?”

“no, no, no, please i’ll be good just— please” your grip on lara’s back tightens, your nails digging onto the bare skin revealed. your head was thrown back, her thrust getting quicker, and harder, your noises getting louder.

her fingers did curling motions which had you seeing stars. “so loud baby, gonna have the whole party hearing what a slut you are for me.”

hearing the way ‘baby’ spilled so effortlessly from her lips drove you insane. throwing you over the edge, your climax covering her fingers. she continued to fuck you through it, your head all fuzzy from how good lara just made you feel.

your chest is still heaving. lara’s beside you, propped up on one elbow, her hand rubbing at your thigh softly to try and calm your breathing. her hair’s a little out of place, her lipgloss smudged, but somehow she still looks annoyingly perfect.

your head finally realizes what just happened. “fuck” you whisper, and you’re already scrambling, tugging the sheets with you as you swing your legs off the bed. your clothes are scattered like breadcrumbs across the floor, and you’re gathering them in a blur, yanking on your shirt backwards the first time, cursing under your breath as you fix it.

behind you, lara shifts onto her side, hair spilling across the pillow. she looks irritatingly unbothered, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “you’re cute when you panic,” she says, voice low, teasing but softer than you expect.

“i’m not panicking,” you shoot back, hopping into your jeans like the floor’s on fire. your pulse is loud in your ears, but you refuse to let her see it.

lara props her chin on her hand, watching you fumble with your shoes. “sure. because storming out half-dressed is definitely a sign of total calm.”

“shut up,” you mutter, yanking your bag off the chair.

there’s a flicker in her eyes then, “relax, y/n. i’m not gonna tell anyone you begged for it.”

you freeze for half a second, glare sharp enough to cut through glass. “i didn’t beg.”

lara’s smirk widens, but her tone drops, a little softer, almost careful. “whatever helps you sleep tonight.”

you can’t deal with her. not right now. you clutch the strap of your bag tighter, push the door open, and practically run down the hall, the muffled pulse of the party growing louder again.

you remember that the night like a bruise you keep pressing, just to see if it still hurts.

it was at lara’s house, back when she was still just lara, your best friend, the girl who shared her fries with you, complained to you about how much she hated math, and fell asleep on your shoulder during movie marathons. her room smelled like vanilla candles and dryer sheets, the tv was playing some rom-com, but neither of you were really watching.

you were sprawled across her bed, scrolling through your phones, laughing at the dumbest videos, your knees knocking together when you showed each other something funny. lara flicked popcorn at you when you teased her about her terrible taste in boys.

and then—

she kissed you.

soft. tentative. almost shy. her lips brushed yours like she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it until it was already happening. your breath caught, your heart stopped, and for a second the whole world went quiet.

you pulled back, wide-eyed. she blinked at you, her expression soft, caring, as if she had waited years for this. a blush taking over her cheeks, before laughing and hiding herself in your shoulder.

the next morning she didn’t text you. didn’t swing by to pick you up for school.

when you finally saw her in the hall, she wasn’t alone. she was surrounded, orbiting in the center of people who hadn’t looked twice at her last week. her laugh was louder now, sharper. she looked brighter, untouchable.

you tried to catch her eye.

she looked right through you.

at lunch, when you finally gathered the nerve to walk toward her table, she cut you down before you even opened your mouth.

“oh my god, y/n,” she said loudly, eyes gleaming, “you don’t seriously think you can just sit here, right? we’re full.”

her new friends laughed. one of them even shifted their tray to make more space, but lara just smirked, like she wanted you to hear the message clear.

you stood there, frozen, the echo of her kiss still warm on your lips, replaced in an instant by the sting of humiliation.

from that day forward, lara wasn’t your best friend. she was the most popular girl at school, and she made sure everyone knew you weren’t part of her world anymore.

gang gang:

manz: megan where did you put the takis??

today 01:23 am sophia: y/n??? where are you???

dani: y/n????????

5 missed calls from manz 4 missed calls from meg

incoming call [dani] “y/n? oh thank god you picked up. guys she’s alive” blares through the phone, as you try to make your way outside of the building.

“i’m on my way down, i’ll meet you outside” you speak into the phone.

“hurry, sophia’s gonna kill you”

you roll your eyes, but either way speed walk your way outside. you’re met with 5 girls with wandering eyes, until megan lands her eyes on you, and see you see her shoulders relax.

you hop in the car after them, daniela is on aux, the music flowing from the speakers.

“soo….are we going to address why your hair is a mess and your lipgloss is all smudged?” manon says, lifting an eyebrow.

you blush, everyone is now looking at you, even sophia from the car view mirror.

“so i may have, done something”

“well yeah looks like it” you hear megan muttered under her breath. sending her a soft push you continue.

“i may have slept with… lara…” the silence fills the car for a second, louder than the music.

the car goes dead quiet. the song playing feels too loud now, bass rattling through the seats, but no one’s saying anything.

daniela’s the first to break. “...lara raj?” she says slowly, like maybe she misheard. manon rolls her eyes, making a remark back saying no.

however you just nod, biting down on your lip.

sophia lets out this sharp laugh, but it’s not exactly funny. “you’re kidding, right? like—this is a joke?”

“i wish,” you mumble, staring out the window. your reflection looks just as messy as manon pointed out.

“holy shit,” manon breathes, leaning forward in her seat like she needs a better look at you. “the girl has literally made your life hell since junior year,”

“yep.”

“wait this is the same lara that made fun of you every chance she got?” dani adds.

“mmhm.”

“the lara who literally—” megan starts, then cuts herself off, shaking her head. her jaw’s tight.

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “yes. that lara. oh my god, can you not list out her entire villain résumé right now?”

silence again. until—

“so…” sophia says slowly, eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror. “how was it?”

the car erupts. groans, laughter, screams of “SOPHIA???”

“what?? i’m just asking!” she defends, throwing a hand up, the other still on the steering wheel.

your face burns. “i’m not talking about that—”

“the blush on your face is already talking,” manon cuts in, smirking.

megan shoves her playfully, but her eyes flick to you again, softer this time, like she’s checking if you’re actually okay.

you sink lower into your seat, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “look, it just… happened. okay? and i don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

but of course, no one in this car has ever been good at leaving things alone.

“wait now i have to deal with tutoring with the both of you,” sophia groans.

on monday, you get a text from an unknown number.

+x xxx xxxx xx hi it’s lara

+x xxx xxxx xx come over we need to talk 📍

you stare at it for a full minute before typing back.

you: don’t think that’s a good idea

lara: wasn’t a question

so now you’re here, standing on her front step like an idiot, heart pounding as you knock.

she opens the door almost instantly, leaning against the frame like she was waiting.

oversized t-shirt, tiny shorts, hair flowing past her shoulders. she grins. “wow. you came.”

“don’t make it weird,” you mutter, brushing past her.

her room looks the same as it did back then.

vanilla candles on her dresser, movie posters she probably doesn’t even like anymore. you stand in her room, feeling like a stranger in a place that was once home to you.

she drops on her bed her head nodding towards the side next to her.

“so…” she says. “the rumors.”

“yeah.” you cross your arms tight.

lara tilts her head, amused. “just deny them, it never happened,”

you nod your head, as if you’re understanding but you feel a sudden sense of deja vu

“just that…” she shrugs. “people believe what i tell them. you, not so much.”

your jaw tightens. “right, because you’re queen of the school. must be nice.”

her smirk flickers, but she leans forward, elbows on her knees. “look, all we have to do is stick to the same story. no one will care in a week.”

you let out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “funny, didn’t you ghost me after the last time you kissed me?”

her face changes, and you swear it’s a flicker of guilt, just for a second. caught. then the smirk is back, sharper now.

“still hung up on that?”

“with you? no, you made that very clear, years ago.”

the silence between you stretches, heavy and hot. you should leave. you should.

instead you’re staring at her mouth, at the way she’s staring back at you.

and then it happens. fast, inevitable. her lips crash into yours, and you’re kissing back before you even think about it.

it’s nothing like the party, no blur of alcohol, no frantic scramble. this kiss is deliberate, deep, like she’s daring you to stop. you don’t. you can’t.

the room spins. her shirt’s bunched in your fists, your top already finding its place on the floor, her laugh muffled against your mouth when you stumble back onto the bed.

it’s reckless. it’s wrong. it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

lara falls back, and you straddle her waist kissing down her neck. you make quick work of her shirt, and the sight makes your mind short circut. she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“wanna taste you,”

“go ahead” she whispers

your lips find her tits, biting and sucking, your tongue circling her nipple. lara’s breathing got heavier by the second. your mouth feeling perfect on her body.

“fuck, y/n,” you hear her whisper under her breath.

your lips trail further down, kissing down her stomach, and tracing the faint outline of her belly button piercing.

you reach her shorts, and notice how ruined they are. pulling down the shorts, you are met with the sight of lara’s dripping pussy.

you try to hold yourself back, instead teasing lara by kissing her thighs softly. biting certain area, and kissing right above where she needed you the most.

“stop teasing please, y/n please” you hear lara whisper, her voice soft. her hands tangle in your hair. you leave an open mouth kiss on her heat, leaving soft kitten licks.

the taste of her made you short circuit. you needed more. without wasting a second your lips are on her clit. loud moans falling from lara’s lips. her back arched incoherent words falling from her mouth.

“oh yes, please, fuck, so good, so good” they fell quick from her lips, a moan breaking each word she tried to say. your tongue circled her entrance, before flattening out over her clit.

you moan at her taste and the sounds she makes, the vibrations sending shocks through her body, her hands tightening in your hair. she’s practically grinding on your face now trying to push herself over the edge.

you look up at her, to find her eyes trying to stay open and watch you. the second your eyes meet her head is thrown back, back is arching.

the ache between your thighs are no longer subtle, the ache getting far too much. you lift yourself up a bit, pulling down your shorts and panties. two of your fingers make its way to lara’s mouth and she sucks willingly.

you watch as she looks at you eyes glossy, your fingers in her mouth. you swear you can feel yourself getting 5 times wetter.

you bring the fingers that were once in lara’s mouth to your pussy, rubbing the aching bud softly. your mouth is back on lara’s pussy, and you’re eating her out even messier. her slick falling down your chin, while you continued to stimulate your clit.

you feel lara’s thighs twitch, indicating she’s close. “wanna come don’t you my love?” you almost mimic her words.

lara nods quickly, the pleasure taking over so much, she could barely form words in her mouth. your other free hand replaces where your mouth just was, setting a quick pace.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck” you hear her whine, before her cum coats your fingers. you continue thrusting your fingers before taking them out and placing them in your mouth. you clean your fingers, watching as lara silently curses to herself. you smile leaving a soft kiss on her lips.

you grab a towel from the bathroom, remembering where it was. and clean her up, it almost felt normal for a second. almost as if the last few years never happened. but either way you realized what happened. for the second time.

you’re bent over by the side of the bed, tugging on your shorts, mentally cursing that you couldn’t find your panties.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath.

lara shifts against the pillows, voice hoarse but laced with amusement. “lose something?”

“shut up.” you say, “you could helped me look, you know.”

“why would i? watching you crawl around my room half-dressed was the highlight of my night.”

you huff, grabbing your bag off the chair. “you’re impossible.”

lara leans forward slightly, tone dipping, almost soft, almost dangerous. “says the person who just ate me out.”

your throat goes tight. for a second you remember the way she looked at you when you kissed her. for a second it feels real. but you shove that thought down fast.

“lara, you and i both remember what happened last time,” you whisper, fixing your tank tops strap. “let me spare the heartbreak this time.”

her smirk falters, just for a moment, then returns, “funny. you say that like you’re the one in power?”

you don’t answer. you can’t. you just head for the door.

you leave in a daze, clothes wrinkled, lips still tingling. you tell yourself it’s over. it won’t happen again.

then your phone buzzes.

lara: btw you left your panties at mine

[one attachment]

you roll your eyes, and audibly groan.

[…]

the next day, at school you notice something hanging out of lara’s pants pocket. you don’t think much of it at first, till you walk into your english lit class and see your lace panties hanging from your pocket.

you mouth drops open. and you scramble to get your phone, ignoring your friends bickering beside you.

lara is sat in the back of the class, her top hugging her frame perfectly.

you: what the hell???

why do you have my underwear in your pocket

lara: how do you know it's yours

it could be anyone elses

plus u n i know it would’ve been off u in seconds anyways

you place your screen face down on the desk, teeth sinking into your lip. the professor drones on about victorian poetry, but you can’t hear a word. all you can think about is the way lara’s sitting in the back.

english lit drags on, each minute stretching longer than the last. you stare at the clock, willing it to move faster, but it doesn’t. all you want to do is talk to the professor about your grade.

the bell eventually rings and suddenly it’s the end of the day.

you step up to his desk, after class while everyone is packing up, asking your questions, trying to focus, when a sharp voice cuts across the quiet classroom.

“at least i don’t have to be a teacher’s pet to get good grades,” says a girl you recognize to be one of lara’s friends as she walks out of the lecture room.

you freeze for a second, jaw tightening. your face burns, but you force yourself to keep your composure.

she laughs, a short, sharp bark that echoes in the room. lara glances at you from the back, expression unreadable. you just finish your conversation and gather your things.

manon had to stay back for practice, daniela too, something about their big game coming up. sophia had to go to some extra credit thing, and megan left early, her first classes of the day done. which leaves you… alone.

you step outside the campus, fumbling with your phone. your car’s at the repair shop, so uber is the only option. except every time you request one, it either cancels instantly or the app says no cars available. you mutter under your breath, frustration bubbling.

a familiar voice cuts through the noise. “you look like you’re about to throw your phone across the street.”

you glance up. lara, slowly walking up to you, eyes tracking your every move. “what do you want now?” you snap, voice tight.

“i’m apologizing on behalf of adriana,” she says, stepping closer. “least i can do is drive you,”

“apologizing?” you scoff, throwing your hands up. “yeah as if”

she flinches, just slightly. “please, just come, i’ll drop you home, it looks like it’s going to rain, and i can’t make you walk alone,”

you groan, dropping your head into your hands.

“come on. get in the car before you drown in your own theatrics.”

gritting your teeth, you finally give in, climbing into the passenger seat. the leather smells faintly of vanilla, a little too familiar, and your stomach tightens.

you glance up at her, tension coiling in your chest. “this makes up for nothing,”

lara shrugs, smirk tugging at her lips, but her eyes are softer than usual. “not really. but it’s the least i can do. plus… you look ridiculous standing here screaming at your phone like it’s personally offending you.”

the engine hums to life. silence stretches between you, thick and charged. the rain hasn’t started yet, but the air feels electric, and your pulse thrums in your ears.

“oh, thanks,” you snap, voice sharp, tilting your head at her. “so now you’re my savior?”

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” she shoots back, tone teasing but edged with something hotter. she leans one arm on the console, shoulder brushing just slightly against yours.

“i don’t like anything about you,” you hiss, though the corner of your mouth twitches despite yourself.

“yeah?” she leans closer, the smirk turning predatory. “see because when my tongue was on you the other night, i didn’t hear any complaints. if anything i’d say you wanted more?”

you snap your head toward her, glare blazing. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“oh, i’m not trying to” she says, voice dropping lower, dangerous.

you grit your teeth, leaning back, trying to put space between you, but it’s impossible. every movement, every word, every glance is charged. and somehow, she’s not even trying.

“you’re impossible,” you mutter, lips tight, but you can’t stop the flush creeping up your neck.

“and yet,” she leans back, smirk softening just slightly, “you’re still in my car,”

you glare, but the heat in your chest won’t quit, “you say that as if i you didn’t just offer me a ride,” lara hums low in her throat, like she’s already won something. “mm, true,” she concedes, tapping her fingers lazily against the wheel, “but you could’ve said no. hell, you usually do say no.”

you bite down on your lip, hard enough to sting. “that’s because i don’t like owing you anything.”

she glances at you, quick and sharp, the streetlights flashing over her profile. “then stop thinking of it as a favor.”

“what else would you call it?” you scoff.

her smirk returns, slow and deliberate. “foreplay.”

your jaw drops, heat flooding your face. “you’re out of your mind.”

lara chuckles under her breath, low and husky, like she’s savoring your reaction. “maybe. but you’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

your nails dig into your palms, trying to ground yourself as your chest tightens, anger and want fighting for space. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“yeah?” she drags the words out, eyes flicking to yours before returning to the road, “or do you just miss the feeling of my body on yours?”

you snap your gaze forward, refusing to give her the satisfaction, but the truth of it burns in your chest. the rain starts to hit harder against the windshield, the sound filling the silence, but it doesn’t drown out the electricity buzzing between you.

lara’s hand twitches near the gear shift, close enough to yours that the air itself feels dangerous.

“say the word,” she murmurs, voice almost swallowed by the rain, “and i’ll shut up.”

you don’t mean to glance at her, but you do. her left hand is steady on the wheel, the other laying on her lap, jaw sharp in the glow of the dashboard, a single strand of hair fallen loose against her cheek.

but your stomach won’t stop fluttering.

her car rolls to a stop in the driveway, headlights cutting across the same house you’ve been in a hundred times before.

“this isn’t my house,” you say flatly.

“congratulations,” lara shoots back, cutting the engine. “you can read street numbers.”

your glare sharpens. “i said home. mine.”

“it’s pouring,” she says simply, like that explains everything. “you’re not walking two miles in that skirt, unless you really want pneumonia. get upstairs, dry off, and then i’ll drive you.”

you open your mouth to argue, but thunder cracks loud above the car, rattling the windows. your shoulders drop in defeat. “fine. ten minutes. that’s it.”

lara smirks, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. you do the same, following her movements. she places her keys down on her countertable walking the two of you upstairs.

the both of you reach her bedroom, lara made way to her bed, lying against the headboard, legs spread and hands behind her head.

lara would be lying if she didn’t say had been thinking about that day. making herself cum over and over again to the thought of you. and if anything, she became more determined to prove to you that she was better than pathetic guy you dated.

“you’re free to take a shirt of something from my closet if you want to change” lara offers, her voice sweet but her attention stayed on her phone.

you nod, opening her closet finding a black strap laid perfectly on top of a shirt that used to be one of your own. you stare at it your lips parting at the size of it.

your fingers hover over the strap, breath catching in your throat. it feels like it doesn’t belong there, too deliberate, too perfectly placed.

you swallow hard, tugging at the fabric of the shirt beneath it, pretending like you weren’t staring. but your pulse betrays you, hammering in your ears.

“find anything?” lara’s voice drifts lazily from the bed, smooth and sharp all at once.

you roll your eyes deliberately despite the pool that was arising in your stomach. you grab the strap in your hand, lara not looking up from her phone once. you strip completely then make your way to lara.

she feels the bed dip but was still engrossed in the tiktoks that played from her phone.

you took your place straddling her lap, legs either side of her. grabbing lara’s phone from her hands and tossing it to the side. she protests at first but is silent when her eyes meet you. her heart races watching you.

the two of you say nothing as you pull down her sweatpants and underwear, grabbing your panties from earlier and keeping it to the side.

you picked up the strap once again, placing it on lara, with minimal help from her.

you take off her shirt, and make quick work of her bra next.

your lips hover over her own, lara desperate to feel your lips on hers again. you miss, and kiss her neck instead, biting and trailing down to her chest. you press open mouthed kisses to the lower part of her neck, finally reaching her tits and leaving bites.

“want everyone to know i’m yours,” you swear you hear lara whisper.

lara’s head falls back, her thighs thrusting up. you laugh softly into her skin, before trailing your lips down to where her strap laid. taking it in your mouth you bobbing your head up and down, you look up at lara who’s now resting on her elbows. her abs clenched, eyes shut. she makes eye contact with you, and lets out a groan, her head falling back once again.

you let out a soft moan at the sight of lara, pulling off her strap with a wet pop before aligning yourself with the head. sinking down slowly, the stretch steals your breath, both of you groaning in unison, the stretch feeling overwhelmingly good.

you grind forward and her fingers find your waist, hand pressing against the bulges outline on your tummy. you whine at the feeling, “fuck, babyy,” you say, dragging out your words. lara’s hips thrusted up and your hands found her stomach for support.

you begin to move, finally adjusting to her size, bouncing on her strap. every thrust hitting the perfect spot, your moans tangled with hers as your nails scratched down her chest.

“that’s it ma—fuckk!” lara says her voice strained. you moved quick on her strap, lara

guiding you with her fingers. her hips thrusted up, making it easier for you

your eyes are glossy, but your rhythm is falters. lara is quick to flip the two of you around. now you’re faced down on the pillow ass up. lara’s body hovers behind you, the head of her strap pressing against your folds.

“lara, please” you breathe, your hands gripping at the sheets. she hadn’t even done anything yet but yet you were so responsive.

“look at you, you’re such a mess baby, dripping all over my sheets.” lara says dragging her hands down your back to grip your waist.

she slides her strap in with ease, your moans muffled by the pillow. she wastes no time thrusting in you, her pace quick, deep, hard strokes that knocks the air out of your lungs.

“such a greedy pussy, did you just need my attention baby?” she grunts, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisting in your hair, as she presses her chest against your back. her tits pressing perfectly against you.

“always need your attention,” you sob, back arching, pussy so wet you can hear every thrust. “missed you…”

she leans over you, mouth against your ear, voice ragged.

“i know, baby, that’s why you’re running you mouth hm? just needed an excuse for me to fuck you? or is it that pathetic excuse of a boyfriend? i bet he doesn't even know how to use his dick,”

you moan, pathetic, high, ruined, and she laughs.

“yeah, that’s what i thought, poor baby haven't even been fucked properly” she says, fucking harder now. the hand that was around your waist made its way to your clit, rubbing harshly at the bundle of nerves. you clenched around her dick.

“fuckkk, lara, baby m’ s-so close—f-fuck” you say, stuttering on your words. your eyes are shut, head resting on lara’s shoulder as she fucks you harder, and quicker.

“come on baby, wanna prove to me you’re still my favorite girl?” you nod quickly at her words, her pace never faltering once, though she can feel her own orgasm nearing. “then come f’me, make a mess on my cock,”

you’re babbling incoherent words, your head is a mess, thighs are shaking, and her words are enough to throw you over the edge. lara continues to fuck you through your orgasm, her own following shortly. you hear her whispering soft apologies in your ear, her touches getting softer.

your chest is still heaving, face pressed into her pillow, when lara pulls out. the sudden emptiness makes you whine, muffled and weak, and you hate how desperate it sounds.

“shh, baby, i know,” lara murmurs, softer than before. her hands aren’t rough now, they’re steady, sliding down your back, smoothing over your hips like she’s grounding you.

she shifts off the bed, and you hear the faint rustle of drawers. a moment later, the cool drag of a towel presses gently between your thighs. you squirm, but she hushes you again. “relax, let me take care of you… don’t give me that look,” she says watching as you raise your eyebrows to protest.

you bury your face deeper into the pillow, but you don’t move away.

once she’s done, she tosses the towel aside and pulls the blankets up around you, tucking them in at your sides. the gesture feels almost too tender, and you blink up at her, caught off guard.

lara just smiles, though her eyes are warm. “what? you think i’m gonna fuck you and then just leave you here? i’m an asshole, not a monster.”

you roll your eyes, but your throat tightens. “you are an asshole.”

she grins, leaning down to brush her lips over your temple, feather-light.

you want to argue, but your body is too heavy, too tired. instead, you let yourself melt into her chest when she slides back under the covers, her arm looping around your waist. her skin is still warm, heartbeat steady under your cheek.

for a while, neither of you talk. the rain outside beats steady against the windows, and lara’s fingers trace lazy shapes along your spine. it’s so gentle it almost doesn’t feel real.

“by the way, i’m sorry for how i treated you all these years,” she whispers, her chest feeling heavy. you look up at her, surprised to hear the words from her mouth. “i know sorry doesn’t make a difference but i just… i want you to know i’m sorry”

you don’t answer right away. instead, you lay your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. “you really suck at apologies,” you say finally, but your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

lara huffs a quiet laugh, the sound small, almost nervous, fingers tracing absently along your arm. “yeah, i know. not exactly my strong suit.” her voice dips, steadier now. “but i meant it. every word.”

she pauses, fingertips brushing patterns along your arm. when she speaks again, her voice is steadier, but gentler. “i don’t know… i just think maybe we could make this work. you and me. it may take time but i dunno,”

your chest tightens. you tilt your head enough to catch her gaze, half-expecting her usual smirk, but it isn’t there. she’s serious.

“you’re ridiculous,” you whisper, though your pulse betrays you, racing.

lara smiles faintly, softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“probably. but you still haven’t gotten up and run screaming, so i’m taking that as a good sign.” she presses a kiss into your hair, lingering there.

“we’ll figure it out my love, for right now, i just missed this, us,” you say assuring her

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#✚ fics #✶ 🪽ׁ reblog ❕#girlblogging #lara raj

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