i’m making a discord book club because I desperately need to read with people who share a love for all things crazy, unusual, and unhinged. if you like to read Dark Romance, Monster Romance, Sapphic Romance, Reverse Harem, Bully Romance, and absolutely everything else that makes you question your entire moral compass, you have officially found your people. there is absolutely zero judgment here and anyone can join.
That being said, I love to read other genres too! so even if dark romance isn’t your main thing, you are still so welcome to join. I will honestly read anything except cheating (we do have some boundaries, okay?). let's hang out, and just scream at night in our rooms together. Also comment if you would be interested in joining.
i’m making a discord book club because I desperately need to read with people who share a love for all things crazy, unusual, and unhinged. if you like to read Dark Romance, Monster Romance, Sapphic Romance, Reverse Harem, Bully Romance, and absolutely everything else that makes you question your entire moral compass, you have officially found your people. there is absolutely zero judgment here and anyone can join.
That being said, I love to read other genres too! so even if dark romance isn’t your main thing, you are still so welcome to join. I will honestly read anything except cheating (we do have some boundaries, okay?). let's hang out, and just scream at night in our rooms together. Also comment if you would be interested in joining.
Pairing: Rue Bennett x Reader
Summary: You finally see your ex-girlfriend (who you've been avoiding for a month) at a party. This time, you can't run away.
Themes & Warnings: TENSION, wlw, rue is california sober, did i mention tension??, arguing, ansgty, jealousy, i love rue bennett my crush on her is massive, s1/2 euphoria, SPICY, kinda toxic, resolution!
The party reeked of liquor and perfumed sweat. Glitter swirled in the air, a purple hue falling onto your skin and making you feel like everything was a dream. Another party thrown by the football team - somewhere you wouldn't typically show your face. But your best friend didn't give you a choice this time.
Maddy's manicured hand gripped your arm, yanking you to her side.
"Bitch!" She exclaimed, her other hand thrusting a drink, full to the brim with something startlingly blue, into yours. "Drink. You aren't gonna be miserable tonight."
You stared the liquid down like it had personally offended you. The last thing you needed was to get sloppy drunk and embarrass yourself with how you'd been feeling recently. Depressed. Icky. Lonely, but too stubborn to reach out for company. And angry. You couldn't lie, the idea of taking revenge at a party had been alluring to you before. But now that you were here, it seemed too daring.
It was evident, though, that Maddie had finally had enough.
You took a breath to speak, trying to push the cup away.
"No." She held up a single finger, the acrylic tip painted with glaring red, and pressed it to your lips before you could protest. "I've watched you rot in your bedroom for like, a month. You've left me on read, bailed on that thing with Kat, and you haven't even let Cassie give her annoying mom-hug." Her eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. "So tonight, you are going to drink this disgusting blue shit and have fun. With me."
Madeleine Perez had claimed you as her best friend freshman year without asking permission. She'd decided, correctly, somehow, that your energy was the perfect counterbalance to her whirlwind. She'd towed you into her orbit and never let go. Underneath the razor-sharp eyeliner and the casual cruelty she could weaponize at will, Maddy loved with a ferocity that bordered on terrifying. You were hers, and she took your pain as a personal insult.
You rolled your eyes, taking the cup.
"You know I don't want to be here. I don't want to see her, and-"
"And what?" Maddy cut you off with a sharp laugh. "You're gonna hide forever? You think Rue Bennett is gonna vanish off the face of the earth just because you've been ghosting the entire town?" She tilted her head, earrings swaying. "News flash, babe. She's still here. You just need to show her what she fucked up and lost."
"Maddy," Cassie's voice came from behind you, gentle and warning. She'd materialized without you noticing, Kat trailing in her wake. "Maybe don't."
"What? I'm not saying anything that isn't true." Maddy shrugged, unrepentant. "Rue hangs out with Jules now. She didn't cut herself off from planet Earth. My girl isn't going to either."
The name hit you square in the chest. Jules. Of course. Rue and Jules. Jules and Rue. The new girl with the cotton-candy hair and the artistic laugh and the way of looking at Rue that made you want to throw something. You didn't have the right to be jealous, though.. You'd ignored a plethora of texts from Rue.
In fact, that was exactly why you didn't want to be here. You were throwing yourself to the wolves. Exposing yourself to Rue and waiting for her to pounce.
Your phone had buzzed constantly that first week. You'd read every message through the notification preview, never opening them, never giving her the satisfaction of a read receipt.
can we talk
i know you're pissed just let me explain
please
y/n come on
And then, after three days of silence on your end: i'm sorry.
Then nothing for two weeks. Then, just last Tuesday, a single message at 2:47 AM: i still have your hoodie. the grey one with the paint stain. do you want it back?
You hadn't responded to that one either. But you'd cried for an hour afterward, because that hoodie wasn't just a hoodie. It was the one you'd been wearing the night she first kissed you. The night she'd pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, and whispered, "Is this okay?" like she couldn't quite believe you wanted her.
You'd kept every message. You'd reread them until the words blurred. And you'd never, not once, typed a reply.
You knew, deep down, that Rue didn't deserve one. She couldn't stay clean, she couldn't stop lying, she couldn't stop doing everything she'd sworn she wouldn't. You were angry at her. You were forcing yourself to stay strong. And Maddy was by your side, always.
She plucked the blue drink from your hand and took a sip herself, grimacing. "Ugh. This tastes like battery acid. Why do football players have such terrible taste in everything?"
"They're football players," Kat said flatly. "That's the answer."
Cassie, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. "Maybe... maybe you should talk to her, though? Not tonight," she added quickly, seeing Maddy's expression. "But eventually. You can't avoid her forever. And she does look really sad."
"Cassie, no," Maddy groaned. "We're not doing the 'she looks sad' thing. Rue is a big girl. She can handle her own feelings."
"I'm just saying! Closure is important. My therapist says-"
"Your therapist also said you should stop dating guys who look like they've never heard of moisturizer, but here we are."
"That's not fair. McKay has great skin."
"And has the emotional depth of a pet rock," Kat muttered.
You let their bickering fade into the background, your eyes drifting across the party against your will. You couldn't help it. Some magnetic, masochistic part of you needed to find her in the crowd.
And you did.
Rue was in the corner, near the speakers, where the purple lights didn't quite reach. She wasn't alone. Jules was beside her, all long legs and ethereal energy, her hair a cotton-candy cloud in the dim room, and some guy you vaguely recognized from your English class was talking animatedly, gesturing with a red solo cup. Rue wasn't listening to him. You could tell by the distant look in her eyes, the way her fingers were absently picking at the sleeve of her hoodie.
But she was watching you.
Those dark eyes, half-lidded and unreadable, were fixed on your face with an intensity that made your stomach clench. Her jaw was tight. Her shoulders were rigid. She looked away the second your gazes met, ducking her head toward Jules like she'd been paying attention all along. But the muscle in her temple was jumping.
"Bitch, are you even listening to me?"
You snapped back to Maddy, who was staring at you with narrowed eyes.
"Sorry. What?"
"I said," Maddy enunciated slowly, "that you need another drink. A stronger one. Because I refuse to let you spiral." She snatched your cup, still mostly full, and dumped it into a nearby potted plant without a shred of remorse. "We're doing shots."
"Maddy-"
"Shots!"
An hour later, you were drunk.
Not tipsy. Not buzzed. Drunk. The kind of drunk where the edges of the room went soft and the music stopped being noise and started being something you felt in your bones. The kind of drunk where Maddy's laughter sounded like wind chimes and Cassie's worried looks stopped registering and Kat's sarcastic commentary became genuinely hilarious.
The kind of drunk where you stopped thinking about Rue.
Mostly.
"She's still looking at you," Kat murmured, appearing at your elbow with a cup of water she'd been trying to push on you for the last ten minutes.
"Who?" You knew exactly who.
"Don't play dumb. Corner. Three o'clock. She's been staring at you since we got here, and honestly, it's getting a little creepy. Like, blink twice if you're being held hostage, Rue."
You didn't look. You refused to look. Instead, you grabbed the water from Kat's hand and took a sip, even though your coordination was shot and a little of it dribbled down your chin.
"Attractive," Kat said dryly, handing you a napkin.
"I'm very attractive. I'm a catch." The words slurred together slightly. "Maddy said so."
Maddy was already materializing beside you, her eyes glittering with a dangerous, scheming light that you recognized all too well.
"Okay," she said, looping her arm through yours. "Don't be mad."
"Why would I be mad? You only say 'don't be mad' when you've done something I'm definitely gonna be mad about."
Maddy grinned, unrepentant. "There's a girl over by the stairs. She's been checking you out all night, and I may have told her you were single and emotionally available."
"You what?"
"Don't freak out. She's cute. Like, really cute. Dark hair, great cheekbones, definitely your type-"
"Maddy, what the fuck!"
"Come," she insisted, steering you through the crowd with surprising strength for someone her size. "You've been moping for a month. A month! And I love you, but you need to get back out there. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Or on top. I don't know your preferences."
"Maddy, stop it." You whined.
But it was too late. You were already face-to-face with the girl from the stairs.
She was cute. Annoyingly cute. Dark hair cropped close on the sides, longer on top, a silver ring glinting in her nose. She had a sharp smile and the kind of confident energy that made your drunk brain short-circuit.
"Hey," she said, her voice low and smooth. "Maddy told me your name, but I want to hear you say it."
Maybe Maddy was right. It was time to explore. After all, you couldn't let all the self-torture be for no reason.
Before you knew it, all of your hesitance flew out the window. A shy, drunk smile spread over your lips as you looked down at your feet, then back up. The girl tilted her head, waiting for you to speak.
"Y/n L/n." You said, holding a manicured hand out for her to take.
"Avery." Her grip was warm and firm, her thumb brushing deliberately over your knuckles before she let go. "Nice to finally meet you. I've seen you around."
"Have you?" Your drunk brain was slow, syrupy, but not so far gone that you missed the way her eyes dropped to your mouth.
"Hard to miss." She leaned a shoulder against the wall, casual, confident. "You're always with Maddy. She's kind of terrifying."
"She's very terrifying," you agreed, glancing back at Maddy, who shot you an exaggerated thumbs up and a mouthed get it, bitch before Kat dragged her away.
And then it was just you and Avery. And the music. And the purple lights. And the two shots of tequila still burning pleasantly in your stomach.
Avery was easy to talk to. She was a senior, she told you, transferred from a school two towns over. She asked about your classes, your taste in music, the book you'd been reading when she spotted you in the library last week. The conversation flowed without effort, lubricated by alcohol and the giddy rush of someone new paying attention to you.
At some point, she'd stepped closer. Close enough that you could smell her perfume - something woodsy, clean. Close enough that her knee brushed yours when she laughed at something you said.
"So," she said, tilting her head, "you're single?"
"Complicatedly single."
"That's the best kind." She grinned. "Complicated means there's a story. I like stories."
"There's definitely a story."
"Tell me?"
You should have said no. You should have changed the subject, asked her about her own stories instead. But the tequila had loosened your tongue, and the words were already spilling out before you could stop them.
"My ex is here." The confession tasted like lime and salt and poor decisions. "She's been staring at me all night. It's... a lot."
She followed your gaze across the room. Rue was still in the corner. Jules had drifted toward the dance floor, leaving Rue alone with her thoughts and her red solo cup and her murderous expression. She was looking at you again - no, not at you. At Avery. The way she was leaning into your space, one hand on the wall beside your head, her body angled toward you like a parenthesis closing around a sentence.
"Rue Bennett," Avery stated simply. "She's your ex?"
"You know her?" The question came out sharper than you intended.
"Everyone knows Rue. Or knows of her, at least." Avery's expression was unreadable. "She's got a reputation. Recovering addict, right? OD'd over the summer?"
Your stomach twisted. Hearing it spoken so casually, so matter-of-fact, made something defensive flare up in your chest. Rue's overdose wasn't gossip. It wasn't a talking point. It was the worst night of your life, the hospital waiting room, the fluorescent lights, the way you'd sobbed into Maddy's shoulder until you couldn't breathe.
"Yeah," you said quietly. "She's been through a lot."
Avery held up her hands. "No judgment. Just repeating what I've heard." She tilted her head, studying you with new interest. "You're still hung up on her."
It wasn't a question.
"I..." You swallowed hard. "It's complicated."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
She hummed, leaning into you. Her lips met your ear with a gentleness that made a warm wave curl down your spine.
"I can help you figure things out."
Your breath caught. The tequila was swimming through your veins, making everything slow and syrupy and unreal. Avery's perfume was dizzying and nothing like Rue's familiar old spice and laundry detergent. Her hand settled on your hip, light, questioning. Providing you with an option if you wanted it.
You didn't pull away.
"Yeah?" Your voice came out breathier than you intended.
"Yeah." She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her sharp smile softening into something more genuine. "No pressure. No expectations. Just... a good time. You look like you could use one."
Maybe she was right. Maybe this was exactly what you needed, something simple, something uncomplicated, something that wasn't wrapped up in overdoses and relapses and 3 AM phone calls that made your heart stop. Avery didn't know you. She didn't know about the hospital waiting room or the unanswered texts or the way you'd cried until your ribs ached. She just saw a girl at a party who looked sad and lonely and in need of a distraction.
And God, you wanted to be distracted.
"I don't usually do this," you admitted, but you didn't step back. Didn't remove her hand from your hip.
"What, talk to attractive strangers at parties?"
"Something like that."
"Then I'm honored." She tilted her head, that dark hair falling across her forehead. "Seriously, though. If you want me to back off, say the word. I'm not here to add to the drama. I just think you're beautiful, and your ex is an idiot for letting you go."
Your drunk brain latched onto that. Your ex is an idiot. Rue was an idiot. Rue had let you go. Rue had chosen pills over you, numbness over you, oblivion over you. And now she was standing in the corner with Jules and her red solo cup, watching you like she had any right to be angry.
Screw her.
"I don't want you to back off," you heard yourself say.
Avery's smile widened. "Good."
She leaned in again. This time, her lips found the corner of your jaw. a barely-there brush that sent sparks skittering across your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut. Your hand came up to grip her shoulder, steadying yourself. The party dissolved around you. the bass, the laughter, the purple lights, until there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth tracing a slow path toward your ear.
"Still okay?" she murmured against your skin.
"Yeah," you breathed. "Still okay."
What you didn't see, what you couldn't see, with your eyes closed and your head tilted back, was Rue.
Rue, who had gone completely rigid in her corner.
Rue, whose knuckles were white around her solo cup.
Rue, whose dark eyes had shifted from murderous to something far more devastating. Something broken. The look of a girl watching the only thing she'd ever truly loved slip through her fingers in real time.
Jules noticed. Of course she noticed. She followed Rue's gaze across the room, took in the scene, Avery's lips on your neck, your hand gripping her shoulder, the way your body curved into hers like a plant seeking sunlight, and her expression flickered with something complicated.
"Rue," Jules said quietly, touching her arm. "Maybe we should go."
"No." Rue's voice was flat. Hollow. "I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I said I'm fine."
But she wasn't fine. She was the opposite of fine. She was burning alive, consumed by a jealousy so potent it felt like poison in her bloodstream. Every rational thought was drowned out by the primal, gut-wrenching need to cross the room and pull you away from that girl. To put her body between yours and Avery's. To tell her, in no uncertain terms, to keep her fucking hands off what didn't belong to her.
Except you didn't belong to Rue anymore. That was the problem.
"Rue," Jules tried again, her grip tightening on her arm. "Don't do anything stupid."
And for a moment, it seemed like Rue would listen. She took a shaky breath. She uncurled her fists. She looked down at her shoes, scuffed Vans, and tried to remember all the things Ali had told her about letting go, about accepting the consequences of her actions, about not letting her emotions rule her.
And then Avery's hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, and something in Rue snapped.
She was moving before she could stop herself. Shaking off Jules' grip. Cutting through the crowd with single-minded determination, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth. She didn't know what she was going to do. Didn't know what she was going to say. All she knew was that she couldn't stand there for one more second watching someone else touch you.
No one could stop her, her seething body carving a path through the crowd like a knife through butter. No one even noticed her.
Besides Avery, in the corner of her eye. She could see Rue's wild curls blowing in the slight air flow, stiff shoulders shifting with her walk.
Her lip quirked up into a smirk, pulling off from your skin.
"Incoming."
Before you could process the word, before the tequila-soaked fog in your brain could catch up to what was happening, a hand closed around your wrist, familiar, calloused, urgent, and yanked you backward. You yelped, turning towards whoever had wrenched you off, but the breath was immediately stolen from your lungs.
Brown eyes. Lidded, but full of so much anger that it made your skin burn where they rested. Desperate, angry, jealous eyes that clearly screamed 'enough is enough.' You couldn't decide whether to swoon or to cry.
Rue's grip on your wrist was iron, her fingers pressed against your pulse point like she was counting the beats. She wasn't looking at Avery at all. She was looking at you, only at you, and the intensity of it made the tequila in your bloodstream feel like nothing. Like you'd never been drunk a day in your life. Like you were seeing everything in horrifying, perfect clarity.
"You're done here," Rue said, and her voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a shout. It was quiet and shaking and absolutely terrifying in its restraint. "You and me. Outside. Now."
"Rue."
"Now, Y/N."
Avery stepped forward, her brow furrowing. "Hey, relax."
"I wasn't talking to you," Rue snorted bitterly, turning slightly towards the girl who had her offensive lips all over you. "So shut the fuck up."
The words landed like a slap. Avery's eyebrows shot up, her calm composure finally cracking. For a moment, she looked like she might fire back, her jaw tightened, her hands curling at her sides, but then she glanced at you. At the way you were staring at Rue. At the way your pulse was fluttering under Rue's fingertips.
She raised her hands, stepping back.
"Will do."
Then, without another word, she sent you an amused glance and walked away.
You were now alone with the only person you didn't want to see. You felt the weight of her stare still, stirring up a storm in your chest.
"Outside." She repeated again, pulling you gently but firmly.
"No, I-"
"Nah," another laugh with absolutely no humor in it. "You're coming the fuck outside."
She was already moving, cutting a path toward the back door. You had no choice but to follow, stumbling slightly, the tequila still sloshing through your system and making everything feel unsteady.
You caught a glimpse of your friends as Rue dragged you past them. Maddy was already stepping forward, her expression darkening, clearly ready to intervene, but Kat grabbed her by the elbow and held her in place. Cassie's hand was pressed to her mouth, her wide blue eyes tracking you like you were a car crash she couldn't look away from.
Traitors, you thought bitterly. All of them.
And then the back door banged open, and the cold night air hit your face like a bucket of water.
The backyard was empty. The same string lights from earlier were still swaying gently in the breeze, casting their dim golden glow over the patchy grass and rusted patio furniture. The music from inside was muffled now, reduced to a distant, rhythmic thump. You could hear your own heartbeat. You could hear Rue's ragged breathing.
She finally released your wrist. She took a few steps away from you, her back turned, both hands coming up to rake through her wild curls. You could see the tension in her shoulders - rigid, practically vibrating -before she spun around to face you.
"What the fuck was that?"
The anger in her voice was a living thing, raw and bleeding. You'd seen Rue angry before, frustrated, annoyed, pissed at the world, but this was different. This was volcanic.
"What was what?" Your own voice came out unsteady, and you hated it.
"Don't." She pointed a shaking finger back toward the house. "Don't play dumb with me right now. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
You crossed your arms over your chest, a flimsy shield. "So what?"
"So what?" Rue laughed, but the sound was jagged and hollow. "So I've been texting you for a month. A whole fucking month. And you couldn't send me a single reply. Not one. I thought you hated me. I thought-" She broke off, swallowing hard. "But you show up here, drunk off your ass, and in five minutes you're about to make out with some random girl against a wall?"
"Her name is Avery, and she's not random. She's a senior. Transferred from two towns over. She smells nice and she thinks I'm beautiful and she's not my ex."
Rue's jaw tightened. "Low blow."
"Truth hurts." You shrugged, the tequila making you bold. "Besides, you're one to talk. You've been glued to Jules all night. She's practically draped over you in that corner. What's that about?"
"Jules is my friend."
"Right. Sure. Just a friend who looks at you like you hung the moon."
"She does not-" Rue stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Wait. Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You're totally jealous."
"I'm not jealous. I'm just pointing out the hypocrisy. You can spend all night with Jules, but the second someone talks to me, you go full caveman?"
"I didn't go full caveman."
"You literally yanked me away from her and told her to shut the fuck up."
Rue glared. "I wasn't talking to her. I was talking to you for the first time in a fucking month."
The words hit you square in the chest, knocking some of the wind out of your anger. Rue was standing there, her chest heaving, her dark eyes burning with something that wasn't just jealousy anymore. It was hurt. It was a month of silence and unanswered texts and sleepless nights, all bottled up and ready to explode.
"You could've talked to me any time," you said, your voice quieter now. "You could've found me. Cornered me at school. Shown up at my house."
"I did show up at your house. Three times. Your mom said you didn't want to see me."
"Because I didn't."
"Then what was I supposed to do?" Rue threw her hands up. "Break down your door? Kidnap you? I was trying to respect your space. Ali said-" She stopped, shaking her head. "Never mind."
"Ali said what?"
"Ali said I should give you time. That pushing you would only make it worse. If you wanted to talk, you'd come to me." She let out a bitter laugh. "But you didn't come to me. You came here, got stupid drunk, and then let some random girl put her hands all over you."
"Avery-"
"I don't care about Avery!" Rue's voice cracked. "I don't care about her name or where she transferred from or what she smells like. I care about you. I care that you've been ignoring me for a month, and I just can't get you out of my head. And now someone else is-"
She broke off, her jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jumping.
"Someone else is what?" you pressed.
"Touching you, and kissing you, and shit. And you're mine."
The words hung in the cold night air. Possessive. Fierce. Utterly, devastatingly Rue.
"I'm not yours," you said, but your voice came out weaker than you intended. "Not anymore."
"You sure about that?" She stepped closer, and suddenly the air between you felt electric. "Because you haven't pushed me away or told me to leave. You followed me out here, and now you're standing here looking at me."
"Rue."
"Like you want me to kiss you. So, do you?"
Your breath caught. "That's the tequila."
"Is it?" She whispered, looking down at you. "Or is it that you thought you could leave me and forget everything, and you can't?"
The question hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. Rue's eyes were unwavering, dark and searching, like she was trying to see straight through to the parts of you that you'd been hiding for a month.
You exhaled shakily.
"Why couldn't you let me? You know you're bad for me. You're bad for everyone, Rue." You accused, avoiding her eyes. Avoiding falling back in.
The accusation had no effect.
"I know." She didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Her voice was steady, even as her hands trembled at her sides. "I know I'm bad for you. I've known it since the day we met."
"Then why-"
"Because I'm selfish, too. Worst type of person." She stepped closer, and her hand found your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet her eyes. "I'm selfish and I'm fucked up and I'm trying to be better, but I can't-I can't let you go. I tried. I tried to stay away. For a month. And it was the worst month of my life."
You gritted your teeth. Her face, desperate and sorry and intense, peering into yours with the same vibes that you fell in love with in the first place.
"I hate you." You whispered.
"I hate me too. But I love you. And I'm not letting you go."
“It’s not your choice to make. You don’t have the right to pretend it is.”
"Neither do you. Not really. Because if you wanted to leave, you would've done it already. If you wanted me gone, you would've shoved me off the second I grabbed you. But you didn't. You're still here. And I think it's because you hate me, yeah, but you love me more."
"Shut up."
She refused to, her firm hand still on your jaw.
"I'm clean. Thirty-four days clean," She said, her voice firm. Honest, for once. "I go to all my meetings and shit. Drug test any time Leslie says so."
Your eyes, glistening with a thin layer of gathering tears, analyzed her face for any sign of dishonesty, and for all signs of the truth. You sniffled, one tear dropping without your permission.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Her voice was firm. Unwavering. The voice of a woman on a mission to get the only thing she'd ever wanted back. "Not a long time, but it's the longest I've gone since I was, like, fourteen. Think about you more than the drugs. In a way," she laughed bitterly, wiping a tear from your cheek, "you leaving my ass is what kept me clean."
"That's not-" Your voice cracked. "That's not funny."
"I'm not joking." Her thumb swept across your cheekbone, catching another tear before it could fall. "All I can think about is you and how to make you come back. Don't give a fuck about drugs."
"That's too much pressure, Rue. I can't be the thing that keeps you sober. That's not fair."
"I know." She didn't look away. Didn't blink. "Ali says the same thing. Says I can't put my recovery on another person. Says I have to want it for myself or it won't stick." She exhaled shakily. "And I do. Want it for myself, I mean. Most days. But on the bad days - on the days when everything feels like shit and the meetings aren't helping and my brain won't shut up-on those days, I think about you. And it helps."
"Rue."
"I'm not saying you have to take me back. I'm not saying you're responsible for me. I'm just saying.." She swallowed hard. "I'm just saying you're the best thing that ever happened to me. And losing you was the worst thing. And I'd rather be clean and miserable than high and dead. Because at least if I'm clean, there's a chance."
The tears were falling freely now, yours and hers, mingling in the cold night air. Rue's hand was still on your jaw, her thumb still tracing back and forth across your cheekbone. She was trembling.
You laughed through a sniffle.
"I can't stand you. You can never stay away and let me heal."
"Let you heal?" Rue's voice was barely a whisper. "Let you move on and forget me? Maybe meet someone who doesn't come with a mile-long list of problems?"
"Yes. All of that."
"I tried." She admitted.
"It was supposed to be a clean break. That's why I didn't answer your texts or come to the hospital. I knew if I saw you, if I heard your voice, I'd cave. And I couldn't cave anymore, its killing both of us."
"But you're caving now."
"Because you grabbed me!" You shoved weakly at her chest, but there was no force behind it. "You couldn't just let me flirt with a pretty girl in peace. You had to storm over and go all caveman and remind me exactly why I fell for you in the first place."
"Was it the caveman thing?" A ghost of a smirk. "Because I can do that more often."
"Don't you dare."
"Kidding. Mostly." Her smirk faded, replaced by something softer. "If you tell me to leave, I'll go. I won't bother you anymore.. probably. I'll try. Again."
You stared at her. At the sharp jaw and the messy curls and the dark eyes that were still glistening. She meant it. You could see it in her face, the way she was bracing herself, preparing for rejection. She'd walk away if you asked her to. She'd actually do it.
And you realized, with terrifying clarity, that you didn't want her to.
"That's the problem," you whispered. "I don't want you to leave. I never wanted you to leave. I just wanted you to stop."
"Using."
"Breaking my heart."
"I know." She pressed her forehead against yours. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll be sorry for the rest of my life. But I'm clean and I'm really trying. And I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to."
"Stay."
"Yeah?"
"Stay. One more time." You fisted your hands in the front of her hoodie. "But you're on thin ice, Bennett."
"I know."
"And you're not allowed to relapse."
"I know."
"And you have to stop chewing on your hoodie strings. It's disgusting."
With a snort and a mumble that sounded like disagreement, she laced her fingers through yours and tugged you toward the side gate. "Come on. I'll make tea. Leslie bought that weird herbal stuff you like."
"You hate that tea."
"I'll drink it anyway. For you."
"That's... disgustingly romantic."
"I'm a disgustingly romantic person."
"You told a girl to shut the fuck up like twenty minutes ago."
"She had her hands and crusty ass lips on my girlfriend."
"I'm not your girlfriend yet."
Rue stopped walking and turned to look at you, her eyebrow arched.
"You're coming home with me, you told me to stay, and I actually never admitted to anyone that we broke up." She ticked the points off on her fingers. "I'm pretty sure you're my girlfriend."
"I'm your tentative girlfriend."
"Tentative girlfriend." She tested the words, a slow grin spreading across her face. "I'll take it. Seal it with a kiss?" She quirked an eyebrow, her hands reaching out again to cup your face.
She was close before you even realized it, her nose brushing yours.
"You're so-"
"Charming? Romantic? The love of your life?"
"Annoying. I was going to say annoying."
"That too." Her thumb traced your cheekbone, feather-light. "So? Do I get to seal it or what?"
You should have made her wait. Should have made her work for it. But she was standing there with her messy curls and her stupid smirk and her thirty-four day chip heavy in her pocket, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.
"Fine," you breathed. "One kiss."
"One kiss," she agreed.
She leaned in. Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost tentative, like she was giving you one last chance to change your mind. When you didn't pull away, she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding from your jaw into your hair, tilting your head back. A small sound escaped your throat, and you felt her smile against your mouth.
"Missed that sound," she murmured.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
So you did. You kissed her again, harder this time, your fingers twisting in the front of her hoodie, your hoodie, and pulling her closer. She made a surprised noise, then melted into it, one hand dropping to your waist, the other still tangled in your hair. The streetlight flickered overhead. The cold nipped at your cheeks. But Rue was warm, and solid, and here, and that was all that mattered.
The door flew open. You yanked yourselves apart, eyes wide.
Maddy, a manicured hand on her waist and knowing eyes dissecting the situation. Her glossy lips curled into a smirk that was equal parts triumphant and terrifying.
"I knew it," she announced, loud enough for the whole block to hear. "I fucking knew it. Cassie owes me twenty dollars."
"Maddy." You pleaded.
"Don't." She held up a single finger, the acrylic tip glittering under the porch light. "Don't even try to explain. Rue had her tongue down your throat and you look pathetically guilty. You're back together."
"Tentatively," you muttered.
"Tentatively my ass. You're standing in the backyard at midnight making out like the world's ending. I'm not stupid."
You were silenced immediately, a sheepish smile on your face.
"And you." She turned her razor-sharp gaze on Rue. "Fuck up again and I'll key your car. I love you, but I love my bitch more."
"Noted," Rue said, her voice impressively steady for someone facing down Maddy Perez in full protective-friend mode. "But.. I don't have a car."
Maddy's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Then I'll key your face."
"That's... not how keying works."
"Try me, Bennett." She stepped forward, jabbing a manicured finger toward Rue's chest. "I will find a way. I'm very creative."
"I know you are." Rue's voice was steady, but you could feel her hand trembling slightly in yours. "And I'm not gonna give you a reason to get creative. I swear."
Maddy stared at her for a long, tense moment. The backyard was silent except for the distant thump of bass from inside and the rustle of the string lights swaying in the breeze. Then, slowly, her expression shifted. The sharp edges softened, just a fraction, just enough.
"I'm happy for you guys. If you're happy," She said, smiling a little. Then, she waved a manicured hand. "Now, go fuck or something."
With that, she disappeared back through the back door, flicking her hair over her shoulder - the sign of a job well done by Maddy Perez. The night air got a little chillier, a little darker.
You stood there for a moment, stunned into silence, the ghost of Maddy's exit still hanging in the air.
"Did she just.." Rue started.
"Give us her blessing? I think so."
"In the most Maddy way possible."
"Is there any other way?"
Rue laughed, that real laugh, bright and surprised and still a little shaky around the edges. "I guess not." She turned to you, her dark eyes softening. "So. What now? We take her suggestion, or we go drink tea?" She smirked.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "She said go fuck, Rue."
Pairing : Amanda Young x f!afab!Reader
Summary : Finally, after 6 months of a toxic relationship with Amanda, you really are leaving her appartement and her for good, bag full of your stuff in hand... Well, that's what you think.
Warnings : Dead Dove : Do not eat. Proceed with caution. smut, 18+ MDNI, dom!Amanda, sub!reader, blood play, knife play, rough sex, strap used on reader, pen in v, fingers in v, oral receiving + giving, degradation, toxic relationship, dubcon, violence and being threatened.
A/N : honestly, this is really just for myself and what i WISH amanda would do to me. hoping someone will match my freak on this and love it as well!
Amanda's apartment feels heavier tonight, the air so thick that it presses in on you like a vice, pushing against your lungs with every breath, thick enough to choke on. You’ve been pacing so long that the carpet beneath your feet is warm, the same worn path traced over and over until your legs ache and your nerves feel raw. It seems like you’ve been doing so for hours, your footsteps, each one echoing the frantic beat of your heart, the only sounds you can hear. The single bulb overhead buzzes faintly, casting long shadows that dance across the peeling wallpaper like ghosts mocking your resolve. You glance at the clock on the wall; 2:17 AM. Amanda should be out until dawn, running whatever errand keeps her in the underbelly of the city, yet still, the uncertainty gnaws at you. What if she's early? What if she senses it, like she somehow always does? But you quickly reassure yourself; Amanda shouldn’t be home yet, she never is. And if she was, you would have heard her.
That knowledge is the only thing keeping you moving, the only thing keeping your hands from freezing as you crouch beside the bed and shove clothes into the duffel bag. Your fingers tremble so badly you fumble the zipper twice before it finally catches. You just stuffed in it the last of your essentials; a worn sweater which you forgot if it was yours or Amanda’s, your phone charger that's barely working anymore and that stupid little notebook you started months ago, filled with half-written plans, crossed-out bus routes and addresses you never had the courage to go to when an argument started to get too heated with Amanda. The weight of it all, the clothes, the memories, the regret, settles on your shoulders. Six months, that's how long you've been tangled in this web with her. Six months of stolen moments that quickly blurred into nightmares, of her touch that ignites fire and ice in equal measure. She's a drug, seeping into your veins until you can't tell where the high ends and the crash begins.
You pause by the window, wiping grime away with your sleeve just enough to peer outside at the empty street below. No sign of her silhouette and no flicker of headlights cutting through the fog. No shadow pacing back and forth like she sometimes does when she thinks you’re asleep. Freedom feels close enough to taste. You imagine the bus station, the hum of strangers oblivious to your turmoil, the fresh start you've daydreamed about in the quiet hours when she's asleep beside you with her breathing ragged from whatever demons chase her. But doubt creeps in, insidious and familiar. What if she finds you? What will she do to you?
The bag slung over your shoulder as you turn toward the beaten down door, rusty keys jingling softly in your pocket. Your pulse thunders in your ears, drowning out the distant hum of traffic. One step, then another. Every instinct screams at you to move faster, but terror keeps you slow, cautious, like a prey that knows sudden movement means death. The doorknob is cool under your palm, you twist it slowly, holding your breath as if the sound alone could somehow summon her. Yet nothing. Thankfully nothing. Relief floods you while you ease the door open a crack, the hinges whispering a promise of escape. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, cold steel kisses your throat. The knife presses there, unyielding, the serrated edge dimpling your skin just enough to prickle with warning. Your breath catches, body freezing mid-motion. No footsteps, no creak of floorboards, no warning whatsoever. She's just... suddenly here. Her presence radiates behind you like heat from a furnace, her breath hot against your ear.
"Going somewhere baby?"
Amanda's voice is a low rasp, laced with that dangerous amusement that always precedes the storm. The blade doesn't waver, its tip tracing a feather-light line along your jugular, sending icy shivers cascading down your spine. The bag slips from your shoulder, thudding to the floor. Your heart hammers so fiercely you swear she can feel it through your back.
"Amanda! How—" you say, almost out of breath, voice cracking. "When did you—"
She chuckles, a sound that's equal parts silk and razor wire. Her free hand snakes around your waist, fingers splaying possessively over your stomach, pulling you flush against her. You feel the hard lines of her body mixed with the subtle tremor of restrained fury.
"You really believe I wouldn't know?” The knife presses harder, a tiny bead of warmth blooming where it nicks your skin. “You reek of betrayal, pretty girl. You’ve been acting wrong all week.”
Tears burn your eyes, panic crashing through you. Yet, beneath it, that shameful, traitorous heat coils low in your belly, the spark slowly but surely igniting. The fear twists into something darker, warmer. You should scream, fight, run, but your body betrays you, leaning into her hold even as tears start to prick your eyes.
"I can't! This isn't healthy! You're destroying me—"
"Destroying you?” She repeats as her lips brush your earlobe, teeth grazing the shell. “No, sweetheart, I'm remaking you. In my image."
She spins you in place slowly until you're facing her, the knife never leaving your throat. Amanda's eyes burn in the dim light, dark and feral, her hair a wild tangle framing features sharpened by sleepless nights and unspoken torments. She's beautiful in her menace, a trap wrapped in temptation. You search her face for mercy, for the woman who sometimes whispers vulnerabilities in the dead of night, but tonight, there's only possession.
"Please, let me go—"
"Begging already?” Her smirk widens, predatory. “We haven't even started!"
With a swift motion, she kicks the door shut behind you, the lock clicking loudly like a death sentence. The knife trails down, hooking under the collar of your shirt, slicing through the fabric with deliberate slowness. Threads part, exposing the rapid rise and fall of your chest. She watches, transfixed, as your pulse flutters visibly.
"Strip." she commands, stepping back just enough to give you space but not enough to escape.
The blade hovers, a silent threat as your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, peeling it off inch by inch under her gaze. The cool air hits your skin, raising goosebumps, but it's her eyes that make you shiver, hungry and unblinking. Jeans next, shimmying them down your hips, stepping out until you're in nothing but underwear, vulnerable and exposed. She circles you like a hunter with it’s prey, the knife's flat side gliding along your arm, your side, mapping what she claims as hers.
"On your knees."
You sink down in a second, the carpet rough against your bare skin, knees protesting, sending a dull ache radiating upward as you settle into position. She's closer now, towering over you, her scent, a mix of sweat, metal, and something else faintly metallic, like old dried blood, enveloping you. She grabs your chin harshly, forcing your gaze upward to meet hers, the knife now resting against your cheek.
"You really thought you could leave? After I gave you everything?"
"It's not—"
The denial dies as she slices a shallow line across your collarbone, blood welling up in a thin crimson trail. The sting is sharp, immediate, but despite yourself, it blooms into a throbbing heat that pools between your thighs. Amanda's thumb swipes through the blood, bringing it to her lips. She sucks it clean, eyes fluttering shut for a moment in bliss.
"Delicious." Her other hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat fully. The knife follows, pressing just enough to draw another droplet. “Your fear makes it sweeter.”
The knife bears down to coax yet another trail of blood, which she watches with rapt fascination. She bends down, her mouth hovering over the fresh incision, her exhales teasing the raw edges. Then her tongue emerges, flat and insistent, laving the wound with languid strokes that blend the metallic bite with slick heat. You gasp sharply, the dual assault of pain and pleasure rocketing straight to your center, where dampness gathers unbidden, soaking through fabric. Your thighs clench instinctively, a futile attempt to quell the rising tide. Her breath fans the wound as her tongue darts out again, lapping at the last remaining of blood slowly. You gasp, the wet heat contrasting the bite of pain, sending jolts straight to your core. Your panties grow damp, arousal betraying your terror.
"Look at you, soaking for the blade…" she murmurs against your skin, licking a path up to your jaw. "You crave this as much as I do."
Her fingers venture lower, batting your bra aside to capture a nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it harshly before twisting with calculated cruelty. You whimper, the sound involuntary, as sparks of agony shoot through your breast. The knife dances lower, scoring a faint line across your breast, blood beading like rubies. She straightens, unbuttoning her pants with casual efficiency, revealing the harness already buckled on, thick, black silicone jutting out, ready. But she doesn't rush, she savors the anticipation, no haste in her movements. Instead, she hauls you up by the hair, the pull sending fresh tears to your eyes, marching you backward until your calves hit the edge of the sagging couch. You tumble onto the worn cushions, springs groaning in protest, and she's on you in an instant, straddling your hips, knees bracketing your hips, the knife pinning one of your wrists overhead against the armrest. Her mouth crashes down on yours, a savage plunder that leaves no room for gentleness as your teeth clash, her bite sinking into your lower lip until it splits open, making you hiss in pain as blood floods the kiss with its coppery warmth. She devours you, tongue thrusting deep to plunder every crevice of your mouth, chasing the mingled flavors with greedy swirls. Despite yourself, your previous desperate need to escape her, you respond, lips parting wider, hands rising to clutch at her shoulders, nails raking her skin. She kisses like she's devouring you, tongue plunging deep, chasing the coppery tang again and again, like a drug. Suddenly breaking away, chest heaving, she drags the blade down your sternum, the tip nicking skin here and there, leaving a constellation of shallow cuts. Blood trickles, warm rivulets painting your torso.
"You’re mine." she growls, smearing it across your abdomen with her palm. "Say it, tell me you're mine."
Her unoccupied hand plunges between your thighs, palm grinding against your core through the sodden barrier, the pressure eliciting an involuntary buck of your hips.
"I'm yours!" you choke out, the admission unlocking something feral in her.
She rewards you by ripping your panties away, the fabric tearing with a satisfying rip. Two fingers thrust inside you without preamble, rough and deep, curling to hit that sensitive spot. You arch off the couch, a harsh moan mixed with a pained goran escaping as she pumps them in and out, the squelch of your arousal obscene in the quiet room. The knife traces patterns on your thigh, pressing harder, drawing a longer cut that makes you hiss. The blade then etches idle designs on your inner thigh, then commits with a firmer press, carving an elongated gash that draws a hiss from your lips, the burn amplifying every thrust. Blood drips onto the cushions, staining them dark while Amanda pulls her fingers free, slick with your juices, and brings them to your mouth.
"Taste how much you want this."
You comply, tongue swirling around her fingers, the blend of your tang and the faint iron flooding your mouth, senses overwhelmed. She observes with dilated eyes, breath quickening, before bending to tend the new wound on your thigh, tongue delving into the cut, probing gently before ascending to your folds. She watches, pupils blown wide, then leans down to lap at the fresh cut on your thigh, her tongue probing the wound before sliding higher. Her mouth finds your folds as she goes lower, tongue delving in with voracious hunger. She eats you out like a woman possessed, lips sucking your clit, teeth grazing just enough to teeter on pain. Fingers return before you have time to savour the feeling of her tongue, three now, stretching you wide, thrusting in time with her licks as her knuckles brush your clit on every inward drive. The knife rests on your hip, a constant reminder for you, its handle digging into your flesh. You writhe, hands fisting the cushions, pleasure coiling tight. You continue to thrash beneath her, knuckles whitening as ecstasy winds tighter, coiling like a spring on the verge of snap. But she stops abruptly, rising up with a wicked grin, blood and your slick smeared on her chin.
"Not yet. I want you begging properly."
With a rough shove, she rolls you onto your belly, hauling your hips aloft until you're braced on hands and knees, on all fours, ass presented like an offering. The knife trails down the arch of your spine, chilling you, before slicing a harsh line just above your tailbone. Blood trickles down your ass as she spreads your cheeks, spitting on your entrance before shoving her fingers back in, this time angling for your ass, one finger breaching the tight ring. You cry out, the burn intense, but she soothes it with her tongue on your pussy from behind, alternating between lapping blood and flicking your clit.
“You taste so much better when you’re scared baby…” she murmurs, adding a second finger to your ass, scissoring slowly.
The onslaught of sensations, fiery intrusion behind, wet heat before, merges pain into pure pleasure, your body betraying you as you rock backward, seeking deeper invasion.
"Fuck me!" you plead, voice muffled against the couch. "Please, Amanda, take me, make it hurt so good—"
Her laughter rumbles, victorious and throaty. The fingers slip free, supplanted by the strap's broad tip nudging your pussy lips. She slicks it with the blood from your back, the warmth making it glide as she thrusts in, hard, deep, bottoming out in one brutal stroke. You scream, the fullness and lack of real lub bordering on too much pain, but she sets a punishing rhythm immediately, hips slamming forward. Another scream tears from your lungs, the girth teetering on overload, stretching you to your limits. One hand grips your hair, pulling your head back while the other wields the knife, carving shallow initials into your shoulder; A.Y., each letter a stab of agony that heightens the ecstasy.
"Feel that?" she pants, pounding relentlessly, the strap grinding deep. "That's to know who’s property you are."
Blood slicks the way, easing the friction, turning each thrust into a wet, messy slide. She reaches around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles that make your vision blur. The build is merciless, your body tensing, walls fluttering around the silicone. She sees it as she drapes her body over yours, teeth latching onto the bleeding script on your shoulder, drawing more blood with deep sucks while her thrusts grow wild, stuttering and frenzied.
"Cum for me. Prove you can't walk away from this, from me.”
Her words hit like lightning, orgasm ripping through you, pussy clenching hard as you gush around her. She fucks you through it, drawing out every spasm until you're a trembling mess, sobs mixing with moans. And yet, she's not done. Pulling out, she flips you again, straddling your neck before you even have a second to catch your breath.
"Clean it." she orders, lowering the blood-smeared strap to your lips.
You lick obediently with ragged breath, tasting yourself mingled with copper, flavors of cum and blood mingling on your palate, while she grinds against your mouth indirectly, her own fingers working her clit. When she's close, she shifts a little higher, planting her pussy on your tongue instead. You devour her without hesitation, thrusting deep into her, sucking her folds as she rides your face. Her hands brace on the arm rest of the couch above your head, knife forgotten for a moment as she chases her release, thighs quivering. She comes with a guttural cry, flooding your mouth, grinding down until you're gasping for air. Collapsing beside you, she pulls you close, knife tracing idle patterns on your arm, not cutting now, just reminding you of its presence.
"Don't ever try that again." she whispers, kissing the deepest wound on your throat.
It's tender, almost loving, but the edge lingers. You nod, body aching, mind hazy. The bag remains by the door, untouched. In this moment, escape feels like a distant dream, drowned in the intoxicating haze of her. Tomorrow, you'll regret it as clarity returns, you'll swear it's the last time you give in, but deep down, you know the truth; you're hers, in a love that's as poisonous as it is inescapable.
wife!abby, who’s obsessed with you in every form ݁˖❤︎ ︎ིྀ
warnings -> use of several pet names (incl. baby, babygirl, etc), fingering (r!receiving), praise, soft degrading, fondling (r!receiving), hair pulling (a!receiving), pussy slapping (r!receiving), french kissing, short little fluff at end
word count -> ~770
kitty writes! -> hai! this is my first post on here :3 this will be a wlw only account & i plan to write for many more characters such as ellie williams, vi & sevika arcane, caitlyn kiramman, emily prentiss & more! please send me requests & ideas for more drabbles & fics :> i will definitely write longer stuff in the future. hope you enjoy :>
“what, abs?” you groan with a handful of clothes. it was a productive but lazy day, with you cleaning and doing laundry, yet only in a robe and slippers. you didn’t feel like you looked your absolute best. but that was just your opinion.
abby, however, your wife of several years now, is quite literally obsessed with you, and always has been. it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. formal wear, sweats, pajamas, nothing. she’s addicted to your body regardless of what’s on it, and right now? she looks like she wants to devour you.
“sorry, baby. you’re just so sexy,” she whines, her eyes all over you. she’s sitting on the couch in your house, having previously been on her phone. all she can do now, however, is gawk at her wife.
“in a robe and slippers? yeah, okay,” you giggle with a shake of your head, loading your clothes into the washing machine. “you’re so weird.”
“you’re weird. for not seeing how damn beautiful you are. robe or not,” abby smirked. after you put the clothes to wash, abby patted her lap. “c’mere, baby,” she crooned.
you groan, but oblige, approaching her and plopping down into her lap, legs on either side of her thighs. “this is supposed to be a productive day, you know? you’re distracting me, babe,” you say with fake annoyance.
“c’mon, honey, give me five minutes,” abby whined, running her large hands up your thighs, eliciting a shiver from you. “you’ve been depriving me all day.”
“it’s only noon—oh.” you cut yourself off when a hand slips up your robe, massaging your inner thigh.
you catch abby biting her lip as her free hand undoes the tie on the front of your robe. it comes off easily down your shoulders, but abby works the rest of it off so there’s no barrier between her and your body. “fuck, you’re so pretty.”
you aren’t wearing a bra—never did around the house, especially on days like this—so abby’s hand quickly finds your hardened nipple, pinching & twisting, pulling a soft moan from your lips. her other hand rubs teasing circles over your damp underwear. “fuck, babe, don’t tease,” you moan. “have to get back to, god, cleaning.”
“mhm, i know, my responsible girl,” abby moans herself, pressing an openmouthed kiss to your neck. “have the best wife ever, don’t i?”
god, she always knew what it did to you when she said stuff like that. she had a way of making you feel like the most special girl in the world all the time, but like this? it was worship, you her altar.
and abby’d be on her knees until death do you part.
“that’s me,” you stammer through a choked giggle. abby’s since slipped two rough fingers inside you, making your words even harder to formulate. “only yours.”
abby’s smirk, which you’d always pay to see, is plastered across her face as she lifts you with ease, spinning you in her lap so that your back is against her chest. her fingers slip between your folds again and reenter, mercilessly pumping in and out of your soaked pussy. “god, she’s liking this, isn’t she?”
she knew what it did to you when she talked about your pussy like that, and your back quickly arches off her chest as you whine a stuttered, “yes, baby.”
abby used her thumb to rub your clit in circles as her fingers pump in and out. her other hand cupped a hardened nipple as her own hips buck into your ass, eliciting groans from both of you. “jesus, babygirl. fuckin’ faucet, aren’t you?”
“aghhh, babe,” you whimper, snaking a hand over your shoulder to tug abby’s hair. “so fucking close.”
“yeah, baby? gonna slut you out right here, fuck,” abby moaned, worked up herself from the way your hand is tangled in her messy blonde hair, pulling. “make a mess out of my pretty wife.”
it’s seconds before you explode, cum gushing from your pussy when abby removes her fingers, soaking her sweatpants. she delivers small slaps to your pussy to work you through the aftershocks, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck. “that’s it, baby. good girl, just let it out.”
when you finally relax, your breathing having slowed down, you turn around to press a heated kiss to her lips, sliding your tongue against hers. she reciprocates with a hand on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
abby huffs and sucks your release off her fingers when your lips part, and you watch her with a small whine. she kisses the corner of your mouth, rubbing your thigh for reassurance. “so good for me, babygirl. always are.”
you hum, leaning against her shoulder with a content smile. “i know.”
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ only mdni, established but secret relationship, long distance relationship, pussy drunk abby, oral (r!receiving), fingering, soft dom abby, tittie sucking, dirty talk, honestly a bit of feral abby, manny is the king of terrible timing, so is ellie, my favorite tlou doggie makes an appearance.
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.4k
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I finished this one a lot faster than I initially realized so look at me go omg. also anything that I’m writing and posting for this au is gonna be out of order so hopefully it’s not too confusing. but a big shout out to @somebitchprobably for helping me come up with a much better ending line for ellie, I appreciate you bestie <3
It had started off innocently enough.
Just one kiss—that you leaned up to press against her mouth right before she was about to start streaming for the night.
It was never meant to linger, never meant to turn into several.
But both of you were starting to realize as she guided you back onto her bed that just one was never going to be enough for either of you anymore.
“Abby,” you mewl, fingers fisting in her t-shirt as her mouth leaves hot, open mouthed kisses along your throat. “You’re gonna be late.”
Abby huffs softly but descends lower, sliding your shirt up your torso and latching her lips around one of your nipples. She swirls her tongue around the hardened peak, palming the other with her hand until you’re gasping and squirming beneath her. She pauses her ministrations but her lips never fully leave your skin—they just travel lower, until her mouth hovers right over your clothed cunt.
“You want me to stop?” she asks, glancing up at you with a look that makes your whole body thrum in anticipation and need.
“I—fuck,” you start to answer but are immediately cut off when you feel her tongue lightly trace over the skin just below your navel.
“Hm?” she hums, warm hands spreading your thighs open further so she can settle between them. “What was that, baby?”
“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” you pant.
Abby immediately sits back up with a wide grin, fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down your thighs in one smooth motion. And fuck, you can feel how wet you are, your thighs already sticky with the evidence of it. But you can’t find a reason to feel embarrassed when Abby practically moans at the sight.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she all but whines, her fingers gliding through your slick center and your hips jolt up when her fingertips brush over your clit. “This all for me?”
She asks like she doesn’t already know the answer.
But you nod anyway, not entirely able to string together a coherent sentence when you feel the tip of her middle finger nudging against your entrance.
“Words, baby.” She reminds you, those dark blue eyes meeting your slightly hooded ones.
“Yes,” you writhe, hips grinding back down against her hand. “Only for you, Abs.”
“Good girl.”
You release a choked noise when she finally dips her head between your thighs, obscenely spreading you open with her fingers and dragging her tongue from where your arousal pools at your entrance—all the way up to your throbbing clit.
“Fuck,” you cry out again, your fingers tangling in her already loose braid.
Abby hums against you, her tongue sliding deep inside you before she’s circling it back up and over your clit again. She repeats these ministrations for a long while, until your thighs start to tremble around her head but somehow it’s still not enough.
“Abby,” you pant, gripping her wrist and guiding her hand between your legs. “Need your fingers, now.”
“So bossy,” she chuckles and you can almost feel the way she’s smirking against you.
But she doesn’t tease you beyond that, instead she glides two of her thick fingers inside you and you practically moan out of sheer relief. Her tongue is back to circling over your swollen clit as she slowly starts to thrust her fingers inside you and the slick sounds that fill her bedroom are downright filthy.
“God, you hear that?” she rasps, her nose nudging against your clit. “How fuckin’ ready you are for me?”
You cry out again when her fingers curl up to rub against that sensitive spot inside you, your core muscles tightening with each firm and calculated thrust. Each one threatens to unravel you faster than you’d ever dare admit aloud.
The tension in your middle coils tight, heat continuing to build between you until the sharp, all too familiar chime of a discord call cuts through the charged haze in the room and you both freeze.
“Shit,” she says under her breath, resting her forehead against your inner thigh. “Impeccable fucking timing, Manny.”
But Abby makes no move to answer it, letting it ring as buries her face back between your legs and you practically melt into the mattress. That sweet relief doesn’t last long though, because all too soon her cell phone starts to ring, buzzing obnoxiously on the bedside table and she lets out a deep, frustrated groan.
“Abs?” She looks up at you then, a mixture of desire and irritation written all over her features. “Just go log on, he’s not gonna stop calling until you do.”
And unfortunately, you both know you’re right.
It takes a great amount of effort for her to pull herself away from you, and your body involuntary clenches around nothing when she slides her fingers back out.
“You,” she hums, leaning over you to press a hot, wet kiss to your mouth before she pulls away entirely. “Stay put, I’m not done with you yet.”
That subtle threat sends heat curling low in your belly and you grin up at her, giving her a small, lazy salute. Abby scoffs lightly, rolling her eyes but the subtle quirk of her mouth gives her away as she leans down to kiss you again.
“Go,” you laugh against her still eager mouth, gently nudging her away when her discord starts blowing up again.
“Alright, alright.” She relents with a pout, wiping away the remaining slick from her chin with her shirt sleeve as she stalks over to her desk on the opposite side of the room.
She haphazardly sits down and puts on her headset, adjusting her camera so the bed—and you are no longer in frame. Then she’s live.
“Hey guys, sorry about that. WiFi’s been acting up all day.”
You have to stifle a snort of laughter, burying your face in her pillow to muffle it. But the way she clears her throat is a subtle warning in itself. Behave.
“Alright, let’s get Manny patched in here…”
You reach for your phone that was left discarded beside her own on the nightstand, pulling up her stream on the app and turning the volume all the way down.
But her chat already knows something is up.
downwiththethickness69: yo why does she look so dishelved??
gibby420: she’s acting sus 🧐🧐🧐
lurker4life: the vibes are definitely off
look4thelight (mod): for once I have to agree with chat
Abby just rolls her eyes. “You guys are the ones being weird.”
She pulls up the game, trying her best not to think about the fact that you’re laying on her bed—mere feet away—half naked and waiting for her.
“Alright, Manny, you ready?”
Whatever Manny says next is lost on you, but Abby’s shoulders stiffen like he struck a nerve.
“What? I’m fine.”
She queues up the next match, fingers drumming impatiently against the surface of her desk.
“I don’t have any kind of look, you’re reaching,” she mutters.
You bite your lip, holding your phone closer to your face because she absolutely does. It’s a look you’ve seen more and more over the last few months, she’s softer around the edges and it makes your heart thud erratically in your chest.
“Alright, alright. Just shut up and watch my six,” she huffs, muttering a small pendejo under her breath.
Everything seems to settle after that, the room falling into an easy silence that’s only broken by the sharp clicks of her mouse and the steady tapping of keys. But Abby doesn’t fully relax, not like she usually does on stream—because she’s far too aware of you.
You can tell in the way her attention flickers, how she seems to track every small movement you make on the bed behind her. Every shift of the blankets, every subtle adjustment of your legs pulls just enough of her focus away that on more than one occasion she misses a shot. And each time, you have to bite back a laugh.
Her chat, of course, doesn’t miss a thing.
simp4abby: she’s awfully distracted today
darkblade28: I swear I keep hearing shit in the background 🧐🧐
Abby tries to remain outwardly calm, ignoring it as she rolls her shoulders and tries to lock back in.
But then…
Your phone rings—loudly.
Ellie’s contact photo flashes across your screen and you curse softly, nearly dropping the phone on your face in your rush to shut the ringer off.
But the damage is already done.
abbysleftbicep: SOMEONE ELSE IS THERE
clihrider: THERES NO FUCKING WAY
ruthlessxghost: ITS HER ISNT IT??? FINALGRL IS IN SEATTLE???
Abby groans, dragging a hand down her face and shaking her head. “Guys, stop, alright? No one’s here.”
look4thelight (mod): that was sooo not convincing abby
Your phone starts to ring again almost immediately, but this time you manage to silence it before it causes any more problems.
Still, you know Ellie and she isn’t going to stop hounding you until you finally pick up.
So you carefully slip off the bed, making sure you’re still out of frame and quietly sneak out of the room.
“Ellie,” you hiss into the receiver once you’re a safe distance from Abby’s room, lowering your voice as you glance down the hallway. “Now is really not a good time.”
From the living room, Bear lets out a loud, dramatic yawn and stretches, hopping down from the sofa and padding over to you. He gently bumps his snout against your knee, whining softly.
“Hey, mister man,” you coo softly, scratching behind his ear. “Who’s a good boy?”
“Mister man?” Ellie echoes with a snort. “Who the fuck are you talking to?”
“Bear,” you say automatically, smiling widely when he nuzzles his face further into your hand.
“Bear? Who the hell—”
Then it clicks.
“You’re at Abby’s, I fucking knew it!”
“No I’m not,” you respond too quickly.
“Yes, you fucking are. DINA!” Ellie shouts and you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. “You owe me $20 bucks!”
“You guys were betting on me?” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Not just you,” Ellie scoffs. “Both of you. But don’t act so surprised, both your chats have been calling this shit out for months.”
“And what exactly was the bet?”
Dina’s voice cuts in then, voice laced with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. “To see which one of you caved and flew out first. But unfortunately for me, I was betting on Abby.”
“You guys are ridiculous, you know that?” you sigh.
“Says the one pretending she’s not totally in love with—”
“Don’t,” you cut in, glancing down the hall toward Abby’s room.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Ellie is laughing, harder than before. “Oh my god. You are in love with her!”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You didn’t have to,” Dina chimes in sweetly.
You lean your head back against the wall with an embarrassed grunt. “Can you guys not do this right now? She’s literally streaming in the other room.”
“Yeah, we know,” Ellie says, rather smugly. “That’s why I called, we’ve been watching the entire time.”
“Ellie, I swear to god if you—”
“Relax, we aren’t gonna rat you out.”
“Yet.” Dina finishes. “Watching you both try and fail to act like you aren’t down bad for each other is the most entertaining part of this entire thing.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now,” you huff, pulling the phone away from your ear.
“MAKE SURE TO SHUT THE CAMERAS OFF BEFORE YOU START SUCKING FACE!” Ellie shouts and you immediately end the call.
“What am I going to do with them, Bear?” you murmur, giving his ears one final scratch before the sound of his automatic feeder has him bolting out of the room and toward the kitchen.
You release a small laugh, standing there for just a moment longer before you make your way back down the hall, your phone still warm against your palm.
Abby is mid-match when you slip back into the room.
She doesn’t look back at you, but the way her hand tightens on the mouse tells you she’s all too aware of your presence again.
“Manny, if you don’t cover me—” Abby cuts herself off, missing two more shots when you settle back onto the bed.
You press your lips together, but it’s useless because a soft laugh escapes anyway.
Abby’s shoulders tense. “Fuck, I swear I had that.”
You decide to take pity on her then, already knowing that her chat and Manny must be roasting the hell out of her for her unusually poor performance tonight. But part of you can’t help but feel a subtle twinge of pride, knowing that she’s off her game entirely because of you.
So for the next half an hour you try to stay as still as possible, but every quick-witted comeback she spews into the mic has that familiar heat sparking between your thighs and the harder you try to ignore it—the worse it becomes. So you stretch yourself out on the bed, desperate to release some of the tension in your limbs. Her t-shirt that you’re wearing riding up your bare thighs and you release a soft, breathy sigh of frustration.
And that’s what finally breaks her.
“Manny, one sec,” she mutters, before pulling her headset off. “There’s something I gotta take care of.”
Abby spins in her chair then, her dark eyes focusing on where you’re lounging across her bed.
The chat explodes in an instant, messages flooding in rapid succession across her screen before she ends the stream with one firm click.
She says nothing as she pushes her chair back, rising to her feet.
“Abby,” you murmur, scooting back until your shoulders meet the headboard—your tone low and teasing. “They’re absolutely going to clip that, you know.”
“Don’t care,” she rasps, crossing over to you in three long strides.
You release a small squeal when she wraps her fingers around your ankle, dragging you back down the mattress. Her warm hands slide up your calves to spread your legs apart, one of her knees pressing down into the edge of the mattress between them.
“What about your stream?” you ask, slightly breathless as she leans over you, her nose nudging yours.
warnings: dom abby, strap usage, fingering, nsfw minors dni
wc: 1.7k
Your day off was finally here. You had no other plans today than to put off cleaning the heavily piled, dirty dishes stacked to the brim of the sink and aimlessly scroll through your phone. It wasn’t until moving your focus from the sink to the kitchen counter that something was out of place: Abby’s lunchbox.
Abby had been working down at the station since 5 this morning. And every morning she gets up at 4, you never have any time to see her. Just half asleep. Memories of her kissing you goodbye on your forehead and the bedroom door closing, hours before you even start your day.
You quickly rush to your car, lunchbox neatly tucked under your arm, to head out to deliver lunch to your wife.
-
As you arrived at the fire station, you were greeted with the sounds of a radio coming from a distance and chatter from down the hall. You waited aimlessly in the office, waiting for someone to walk in. Your eyes quickly followed to the wall of the fire crew and the frame front and center of the wall, the furrowed brow and pout was only more serious in the photo, matching with the same low hanging braid, it could only be identified as Abby Anderson and in the gold-plated engraving, it read “Abby Anderson Assistant Chief.”
“Can I help you?” Your eyes quickly drew away from the photowall and back to the puzzled fire woman who just entered from the back door. The woman's face was a mix of confusion and concern. She was dressed in fitted black pleated pants and a white button-up shirt with a fire emblem pinned to her breast pocket. From the pictures, you recognized it was Chief Nora Harris.
“Oh! Sorry, there's no emergency,” You assure her, before she jumps to any conclusions, you hold up Abby's black lunch box by your face. “I’m looking for Abby,”
Nora’s face softened, knowing there was no real emergency to be worried about, just that her assistant chief was working on an empty stomach.
“One sec,” She smiles, and leans her front half back out into the hallway of the back end of the fire station. “Anderson!” She yells, muffled by the glass door. Nora gave it a second until a very confused Abby rushed down the stairs and was now standing next to her boss by the door. Nora tilts her head to signal that you were standing in the waiting room. Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls the door behind her to greet you.
“Babe! I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She cheers as she kisses you on the lips. You’re instantly crumbling at the sight of her. She’s half in her fire uniform, bunker gear pants, radio clipped on one pant pocket, and a black fitted t-shirt, probably too tight in the arms because you can see her large muscles looking as if they were going to burst the sleeves.
You were a sucker for a woman in uniform, but what kept you around was that grin she had on her face. You hold up her missing lunchbox so that she can take it from you.
“What would I do without you, huh?” She whispers, kissing your forehead gently. She grabs her lunch from you and takes your hand. “Now, I didn’t mean for you to come all the way here and just leave so quickly. Let me give you a tour.” You follow her down the long, fluorescent-lit hallway to the kitchen, where a couple of workers had chosen to spend their off time.
“Mornin',” Abby cheerfully greets them. A couple of them raise their coffee mugs in her direction to say hi. “Kitchen, self-explanatory.” She sets her lunchbox down on the counter. You watch as her braid freely swings behind her broad back as she turns the corner into the next room. You follow her into the garage.
You take a second to look around the room. The garage is loaded with gear along the sides of the wall, featuring bright and tall clear garage windows that shine a bright light onto the sleek red color of the firetrucks lined up and ready for action. Abby blows it off like it's nothing, continuing to walk down the hall. You think she’s letting you have somewhat of a self-guided tour until she grabs your arm and takes you into the back room.
“Abby, what are you doing?” You whisper, not against the fact that she dragged you into a storage space, but the fact that it is in her place of work. You didn’t want some of the people at the fire station’s first impression of you to be Abby with a hand down your pants. Her large body presses you up against the wall
“We're going to get caught,” You argue.
“We're not going to get caught,” She protests, as she continues to make out with you. You finally give in and melt back into her kiss. Her kisses are gentle and sweet as she slowly moves closer and closer down your neck. You’re hesitant before you grab her braid and pull it down to force her lips back to yours. One of her hands cups one side of your face while the other lifts your leg to rest on her hip.
“If you want to do this,” She says in between sloppy kisses, “You have to be quiet for me.”
You nod your head in agreement, your body heats up at her words, stern but never mean. That's what you liked about her. You move your hands that were wrapped around her waist to cup her face. Her kisses only become more aggressive as she slips her tongue into your mouth. You moan in pleasure as you use your leg to push her closer to you. Her large frame is grinding into your body.
“Fuck, I need you so bad, Abby.” You moan into her mouth, head now leaned back, resting against the wall. Abby wasted no time untangling your sweatpants string so she could easily slip inside. You use one hand and try to wiggle your pants further down your thighs so it is easier for her, while the other hand is still gripping onto her muscular shoulder. You wrap both legs around her waist so that the wall is supporting you.
“You need me, huh?” She coos in your ear, her lips carefully placing kisses across your cheek to your ear. You feel her large fingers toy with the hem of your waistband before she pushes them aside. “Shh, remember what I told you.” Her words make you clench around nothing. You melt over how she can dominate you so easily. Your cunt is soaked and needy, yearning for her to touch you.
You let out a soft groan into her neck as she enters your wet cunt with her large finger. She smirks as she pulls her fingers out of you gently and enters you even deeper without giving you time to adjust. You grind against her palm while she continues to fuck you. Your clit bumping against her hand with every movement. To your satisfaction, Abby decides to slip in another finger, stretching you out even more. Most of the time, you were only able to take one of her fingers, but today you needed more.
“You’re doing so good for me,” She whispers. You arch your back so that when she curls her fingers into you, it hits the perfect spot. She uses her palm to press harder against your clit. You could barely hold it in, burrowing your face deeper and deeper into her neck. She suddenly slows down in pace until she's fully out of you. By the smirk plastered across her hot and sweaty face, you can tell she has something hidden up her sleeve.
She quickly fiddles with her pants to unzip the zipper. Abby Fucking Anderson is packing under her uniform. You were familiar with the purple strap she likes to use on you. “You think you could take more?”
“Fuck me, Abby,” You tell her, pulling your legs so that she is even closer to you. Abby pushes the head of the strap into you, coating the top with your slick. Abby quickly adjusts, putting both of her hands on your ass, pressing you up harder against the wall. You try to keep it in, but Abby groans as she pushes further into you. You rut your hips as Abby's grip becomes harder and pounds into you. The wet sounds from your pussy fill the storage closet as she continues to fuck you. Your mind continues to spiral as her thrust becomes sloppier and sloppier.
“You’re doing so good f’me, baby,” She kisses the top of your head, still keeping the same rhythm as she was before. The way her strap stretches your walls only makes you moan harder.
Your head becomes light, and suddenly your whole world is spinning. “Abs, please, I need.” You try to piece together words, but you're only focused on the pleasure of Abby.
“Please what, baby?” Her thrust became slower, pulling out completely before dragging the tip of the purple strap through your folds, and bumping your clit ever so slightly. “I need to hear you say it,”
“I’m gonna cum,” You cry out, and that’s all she needed to hear. She enters you again this time at the same rough pace she did before. She removes one hand from your ass to touch your clit. You want to scream out from the overstimulation, but instead moan against Abby's neck, leaving kisses up and down her neck. Your whole body starts to shake, and you feel your legs start to give out, but you trust that Abby will support you up. Abby helps you ride out each other's high by slowing down her pace like she once did before, slowing her thrust in and out until shes completely out of you.
She helps you down from the wall, but your legs quickly give out, so you’re leaning all your bodyweight on her chest. She rubs your back, leaving kisses on your forehead. She helps you back into your sweatpants before chuckling to herself. You raise your eyebrow in suspicion before she hums.
“You really thought I would leave my lunchbox at home by accident?”
this is my first time writing smut. who cheered?!! lmk if you enjoyed hope you're having a good day, byee
“what the fuck is your problem??“ abby damn near broke down your door storming into your apartment after seeing you on an instagram dump with a girl that was very much not the blonde.
“you want me to see, is that it? you being all posted up on some bitches lap?” she scoffed. “where the fuck do you get off honestly, like why are you doing this to me”
“i’m not doing shit to you Abigail, she’s my friend, not that i owe you an explanation. so feel free to go back to whichever one of your sluts houses you just came from.”
“your one to talk. who is that bitch i swear to god ill fucking kill both of you” you couldn’t help but just laugh in disbelief. abby was so unreal sometimes, getting so worked up over a picture with a friend meanwhile she probably saw the picture mid eating out some rando chick’s pussy.
this of course only pisses her off. “i’m not fucking laughing. this isn’t a joke, all you do is try to hurt me, like your fucking crazy honestly.”
“you sent me a video of you fucking someone else a week ago abby!” you wanted to rip out your hair with how insane she made you feel sometimes.
“yeah and now your pulling this shit so we must be even. give me your phone so i can delete the bitch myself.” you couldn’t even really call it a request because she was instantly snatching your phone from your hand and hitting call on a contact before you could react. “Abby no-“
“hello? don’t worry about who this is. yeah, shes right here with me so mind your fucking own. if i see you with her again i promise ill fucking kill you—you know what, drop your location lets talk in person”
“abby stop it, please hang up” you were practically wrestling her to retrieve your phone but were failing miserably against her strong build, so you had resigned to quiet pleading for her to cut it out.
“don’t be rude, im talking to our friend.” abby suddenly shoves two thick fingers through your lips, pushing down on your tongue, shutting you up as you gargle around her in surprise.
abby brings the phone down to you “wanna say something baby?” you attempt to shake your head no, but the movement isn’t much with her fingers stuffing your mouth—you can only helplessly mumble and gag on her as you try to protest.
abby looks at you with a mocking pout and cocks her head.
“no? aw it’s alright, i think she gets the message.”
Summary: Abby has a single rule: she will not date her friends — it happend once and it did not end well, so she decided to cut people off as soon as they show the smallest sign of affection that a friend should not have for another. But what happens when you come into the picture and make her question herself? After all, rules are made to be broken, but would it be worth it?
Warnings: angst, friends to lovers trope, slow burn, unrequited love, eventual smut, dom!abby, sub!reder, also Ellie x reader.
As a fashion girlie who literally does not have the money to dress how I want this was beautiful 🥹🥹
Literally could see it omg. And it was so sweet. The arcade date at the end was so cute and the gradual climb to tolerating each other was so juicy. I just loved it. Plus every outfit was adorable.
I SEE THAT PART 2 CROSSED OUT 👀.. I see it.
Hiii Anon <3
You will forever be a fashion girlie, do not worry. I'm with you too
(i be broke A-F ) we can just window shop </3
I posted part 2, THEN I realized you had come back :(
Here's the FINALE PART (and ofc everyone who was so kind and sweet to reblog and like and comment) I really appreciate you all.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ₊ ⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ₊ ⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
Imagine 21:"I love you"
(University AU! - part 1 - part 2- multi part story - fashionista!reader - opposites attract - bullying aspects - angsty - added background characters - barely proofread - 4.3k words )
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ₊ ⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ₊ ⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
Fall semester's right around the corner.
You arrived sweaty and warm in the backseat of Greg's car, your thighs sticking to the leather. Windows down, music loud, the breeze soft. He's been annoying the whole ride but in a tolerable way, and when you catch your girlfriend watch you from the rearview mirror, chewing on a Twizzler and smiling, you forget he's even talking.
The view of Raya's family's lake house is ridiculous. You don't mean to judge but you would've never imagine any of your girlfriend's friends to be well off, especially based on their personality...and appearance.
It's the kind of place with too many balconies, a dock that looks like it belongs in a movie, and a big glittering blue pool out back (even though the lake is barely a 2 minute walk). Of course her family has both.
You step out and stretch, immediately squinting in the sun. Your girlfriend whistles low behind you. The top you're wearing shows just enough, your skin golden in the late sun, shorts making you dangerous. You weren't trying to kill anyone today, not really.
"Damn," she says. "You're gonna get me in arrested looking like that." The way she looks at you. She might actually commit a crime.
You roll your eyes, but you're already blushing. The way she says it: half teasing, half lustful....makes you shiver.
"C'mere," she mutters as you pass her. She hooks her fingers through your belts loops. You fall into her laugh, lips brushing just under her ear.
She slips her arm around your waist, fingers brushing bare skin, and leans into your ear. "Seriously. Don't bend over unless you want me to..." You nudge her before she could finish. Laughing.
"Later," you whisper. She groans and throws her head back like you've just ruined her life.
The others unload snacks and floaties. Greg's already halfway to the dock, shirtless and yelling. Raya's already waving from the porch, barefoot, holding two red cups.
⊹✧˚
The cookout is buzzing. Sizzling food, Raya's cousin (and her friend) in the pool. Music humming from the speaker behind the flowerpots. Your girlfriend’s friends are all scattered across blankets and pool chairs, look sun drunk and happy.
You lay your things down, putting sunglasses on. From the corner of your eye you see her, rubbing sunscreen between her hands, eyeing your back.
“Turn around,” she says. You raise an eyebrow. “I mean it, unless you wanna get burned and awful bikini lines.”
You already applied, but you don’t say anything. You do as she says and she smoothing the lotion over your shoulders, slow. Her hands are warm. She lingers a little too long on your waist, dips low across your back.
“Mm,” she’s hums, slipping her fingers under the strap of your shoulder. “This okay?”
You nod, a bit breathless.
“Are you tryna’ protect me from the sun, or feel me up?” You glance over your shoulder.
“Both,” she’s not even pretending to deny it.
Every now and then presses a kiss to your back. It feels great, your body smooth when she goes get something to drink with Isa.
You’re just minding your business. Raya has tried to be nice to you, Greg is tolerable, Isa isn’t the nicest but she ignores you which is better than anything.
Later, you’re in the pool, floating with your arms wrapped loosely around her neck. Her legs are looped around your waist under the water, lazy and teasingly. The others are on the far end, throwing a beach ball and arguing over who burned the hot dogs.
You press your forehead to hers.
“Gonna miss me when class start?” You ask softly
She smiles, “Gonna miss this swimsuit.” She tugs on the knots. One pull and it’s game over for you.
“You’re such a perv.”
She murmurs something and kisses you before you could roll your eyes or ask what the hell she just said.
Behind her, Raya cannonballs into the pool and yells something. The intimate moment breaks, but neither of you are upset.
“I did not know she was wealthy.” You whisper. And your girlfriend’s turns her head to see Raya.
“No, yeah she’s very humble I guess.”
“I always thought…maybe this is bad. But your friend group, and you….i don’t know y’all just don’t seem like the type to be rich and wealthy.” You avoid eye contact, feeling a bit shameful.
Isa, Greg, Raya, and your girlfriend were the typical ‘stoners-street wearing- sometimes grungy- type. Not really caring about appearance. Ali was the only one who seems to dress up, even Adam.
She doesn’t seem to take offense or anything. “I get it. Miss. Judgmental.”
She pokes your sides causing you to laugh.
⊹✧˚
It feels like high school all over again.
It's late afternoon by the time Ali and Adam show up. They are loud when they arrive, announcing themselves with a bottle of tequila and some weed.
You look up at your girlfriend, she doesn't say anything though. You shift on the concrete, feeling her brush your thigh and kisses your temple. You try to stay relaxed.
Try.
But Ali's shit starts almost immediately. Ali tosses her bag near your towel, ignoring your existence. Her voice is loud, and sharp. You can feel the whole energy shift. The weird feeling that always creeps in when they're around.
You're sitting on the pool ledge, legs dangling in the water, when Ali "accidentally" flicks water in you face. It stings your eyes, you blink through it. Once you glance up, she's already walking away, laughing with Isa.
You want to say something. But, you know what that'll do...so you stay silent.
Later, when you're walking past her on the patio, she purposefully bumps into your shoulder hard enough to make you stumbled a step. "Oops," she says, not looking at you.
By the grill, you're teasing your girlfriend about how she burns everything, stealing bites off her plate. She leans in to kiss the grease off your bottom lip. It's soft and familiar, You let out a "gross" and playful shove her.
But Ali sees. And she says it just loud enough: "Did someone invite everyone or is this like, a bring-your-own-stray situation."
You pause, Raya shoot Ali a look. Your girlfriend hesitates beside you. Her fingers twitch like she's deciding to take your hand or pretend she didn't hear.
You speak up before she can. "I dunno, lets ask Adam." you say with a sweet-sweet smile. "Maybe it was bring-a-BITCH- situation." The group goes quiet for a second, Greg lets out an oof.
You catch her shoving your towel off the pool chair when she thinks no one's looking. You find your sunglasses on the floor, stepped on. You overhear her whispering something to Isa and they both laugh, looking you way.
It's high school, all over again. Except worse, because this time, your girlfriend's friends are the ones doing it. And Adam? He doesn't even help (you don't want or need his help, but it just gets to a point....)
Every time he passes you, there's a comment:
"Damn, yo' legs look good." or "Too bad you're taken," followed by a wink speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.
He corners you near the drink cooler when no one's watching, leans too close, breath reeking of beer. "Yo' girl's hot," he murmurs. "But damn...you? Fucking hell."
You pull back, "Do not talk to me."
He smirks, "Relax, your flirted first remember."
Your stomach drops. Ali appears two minutes later, eyes burning you. "You really can't help yourself, huh?"
You stare at her, frustrated.
"Dude, keep your hands off my boyfriend."
Your voice comes out small, quieter than you want. "He came on to me."
"Right..." she scoffs, crossing her arms. "Cause he just can't resist an attention seeking-pick-me, right?"
You just walk away. Just walk away from her, him, from the chlorine, and the sun, and the tequila.
You find your girlfriend laughing on a lounge chair with Raya and Isa. Her head thrown back, shoulders relaxed. She doesn't notice your red eyes until you're standing right in front of her.
"Hey babe--"
"Your friend needs to grow up," you speak over her, glancing towards Ali and Adam.
Silence.
Isa's eyes flicked between you both, like she's waiting to see what kind of show this'll turn into. Raya expression is softer, but not enough.
Your girlfriend blinks, clearly flustered. "What happened?"
You shake your head. "Ali keeps bother me, and Adam keeps flirting with me. I am tired of it."
Isa exhales and rolls her eyes, "Maybe you shouldn't flirt back." She looks at your girlfriend then at you, "And she's not your mom, don't come up here stomping..." she mumbles.
Your girlfriend girls her a look but doesn't correct her. Doesn't say anything.
⊹✧˚
For once, everything started to calm down. It was golden hour, sun was slowly going down and someone turned on the pool lights. The boys are in full 'middle school' mode: splashing, trash talking, teasing the girls like they're twelve.
Your girlfriend's got her legs in the water, shorts wet at the hem, and her head on your shoulder.
You didn't even wanna get in the water anymore. You're trying to laugh along, even when Greg calls you a buzzkill or Adam tries to flick water in your face (again).
Your towel wrapped tight, drying off from earlier. You were trying to talk to your girlfriend but her attention drifts to whatever Raya was laughing at.
Anything but you.
You close your eyes, just enjoying everything else. Thinking about going to the lake and reading a book before you leave tomorrow afternoon.
You're so in thought that you don't realize Ali strolling over. She's got that look on her face, unbothered. Without warning, she shoves you.
You hit the water hard, unexpected, loud, it's colder than earlier,
There's a second of silence. Then laughter. Someone whistles. Someone claps while the laugh.
You come up gasping, blinking chlorine water out your eyes, your swimsuit wet once again. Your stomach burning with humiliation.
"Ali...what the fuck?" Your girlfriend's voice cuts through it. Rough, not loud, not angry, but it cuts.
Ali shrugs, playing innocent. "It's just a joke. We are all playing around."
"She wasn't playing," your girlfriend says. She's standing now, looking down at you like she wants to help but isn't sure how. "Don't touch her like that again.”
It's the first time she's said anything. The first time she chosen you, even a bit.
Ali rolls her eyes and turns away, talking shit to Isa. Your girlfriend offers her hand, pulls you out, wraps you in a towel and doesn't let go for a while.
⊹✧˚
Raya says there's this club near her place, one of her middle school friends works there, she can get everyone in.
You almost don't go, but your girlfriend insists. "It'll be better than this. We'll dance. You and me."
And for a minute, you believe her.
You prepare to go shower, everyone is getting dressed, pre-gaming. You patiently wait for your girlfriend to get out the bathroom. While waiting you go to the guest room.
Your bag? Gone
You go back outside, checking the patio, near the pool...no where. Your clothes, phone charger, make up, ID...all missing from where you SWORE you left them.
Your girlfriend, Greg, and Raya leave first to get the big car, the one that'll fit all 7 of you. She kisses your cheek before she goes, promises to text you. You tell her you can't find your stuff, and she says to ask Raya's cousin.
Isa and Ali are nearby, pretending not seeing you go room to room. You ask, "Have you seen my bag? It's grey with pins."
Isa shrugs. "Didn't you leave it near the patio?"
"Maybe check the bathroom. Or under the chairs. You're always this disorganized?" Ali crosses her arms and raises her brows.
It takes you 15 minutes to find it. Well Raya's cousin, Leilani, taps your shoulder and asks you if the bag belongs to you. Claiming to have found it shoved behind the towel basket near the grill.
You thank her and immediately text your girlfriend that you're getting ready.
No reply.
You shower nonetheless, rush it all. You see Isa and Ali from the window. Getting into the large Jeep.
As you're brushing your hair you get a text message from your girlfriend:
[ her <3 : sorry babe, they said you weren't feeling good. i didn't get your message til now. feeling ok? better go to bed, we'll be back late. sleep tight gorgeous. ]
You stare at it. It felt like you're some fragile afterthought, like she didn't even ask.
You don't reply. You hear the sound of an engine revving down the street. They're gone.
⊹✧˚
That night, you cry. Not all at once.
First it was small, quiet tears slipping down your cheeks as you sit alone on the guest bed, now in the cute matching P.J set you packed. The back of your throat tight. You cry while you search for your charge. You cry when you check your texts: nothing from her. Not one message asking where you were.
You feel stupid for...fucking everything: Isa and Ali told you they'll wait before they got into the Jeep. You actually hoped that they would be different for once.
But you still get up. You take your time doing your night routine even though your hands are shaky and your face is puffy. You double cleanse--moisturize--comb out your hair like you mom used to when you were little.
You say your affirmations in the mirror, even if your voice cracks halfway through:
"I am enough."
"I am not the way people treat me."
"I deserve softness. I am not a problem."
You breath through it, you don't call anyone. You don't spiral, just try to survive the night.
There's a soft knock on the door. You flinch, but it's not her...no she's at the club obviously. It's someone else.
Leilani, leans in with her big curly bun and oversized tee, she too was bare-face and gentle. "Hey," she whispers, you knew she knew.
"You okay?" she asks softly, not pushing. "I was gonna go to the kitchen and make some cookies with my friend... You wanna come?"
For a second, you hesitate. You almost say no, but then something in her tone makes you nod. Because the ache is still there, but it's easier to deal with when someone offers kindness without asking for anything in return.
⊹✧˚
The house is quiet. It's past three when the door creaks open. You're not asleep, none of you are, really. Leilani's friend is passed out, face squished into the pillow. Leilani's headphones are loud enough to hear the faint sound of her music, her eyes half shut.
You hear the soft sound of the front door closing, followed by footsteps down the hall. You hold your breath.
Then there's a quiet knock. You know it's her before she speaks. "Hey baby," her voice is soft, gentle. "You up?"
Leilani rolls over, murmurs, "I'll crash with my cousin," and slips out, giving you a gentle squeeze to the shoulder, before waking her friend up and leaving.
You sit up slowly, not bothering to fix your face. You don't need to pretend; not anymore. Your voice is hoarse when you answer: "Yeah."
She closes the door and walks over, kneeling by the bed, hands folded together. "Are you okay? Isa and Ali said you weren’t feeling well. That you told them not to wait."
Your stomach drops...heart sinks. But you already knew.
You stare at her. She pinches her brows when she notices your tears. "What happened?" she asks. "Talk to me...please."
That made you break. Because that's all you've been doing. You're not loud. You don't break in a scream, but with tears that pour too fast to catch and a voice so small you hate how fragile it sounds.
"They lied." You laugh. It’s not happy, it’s harsh and watery and comes out like a cough. "She lied."
Her face changes; brows furrow deeper, lips parting like she didn’t really understand. "What do you mean?"
"I mean they lied," you snap, voice cracking. "They stole my stuff. Lied. I looked for my bag for thirty minutes."
"They said we were gonna go together. And just left me alone." You're still whispering. You hate how careful your voice sounds. You wipe your eyes, frustrated. You sniff.
"And it's not just tonight," you continue. "Ali shoving me into the pool.... Constantly talking shit. Adam bothers me and makes me uncomfortable. Then he fucking twists it around. They all laugh behind my back. I know they do."
She stares, surprised. Something in her face shifts. "Why didn't you tell me sooner---?"
"I did!" You cut her off. "I always did...do. I always tell you. You never pay attention. I don't want you to pick and choose."
She reaches for you, but you shift back slightly: not cruelly, just firmly.
"I can't do this anymore," you say, more stable now. "Not like this. I don't wanna be the girl your friends hate. I don't want to spend weekends being ignored or humiliated or left behind. I love being your girlfriend...but that shit hurts. It's not fair. I don't love who I become when I am around them."
You keep your chin up despite the stinging in your eyes.
"I don't want to fight for space in your life. I want to feel safe there."
Her expression changes, jaw tense, mouth open, you can tell she wants to fix it instantly. This isn't something she can fix with a hug or a sorry or some late-night-sweet words.
She swallows. "I didn't know...I didn't think they were THAT bad---."
"They are," you say. "And you don't want to see it."
Silence...
"I need space," you whisper. "Please."
She looks heartbroken. She nods. And you hate how much that hurts, too. Because you still love her.
But you love yourself, too. And tonight, finally, you chose you.
⊹✧˚
The car ride back is suffocating. You sit squished in the backseat, right next to your girlfriend, your shoulder pressed into the door. Her hand is resting on your thigh, but you can't feel it. Not really, not with Ali and Adam laughing in the front like they were invited...THEY WERE'NT. Greg pretending to focus on the road when he's clearly in on every little joke.
Ali's twisted halfway in her seat, eyes sparkling with smug curiosity. "So..." she elongates the vowel, looking right at you. "What's the deal with your face? You two fight or something?"
She's looking at your girlfriend, but it's clearly a job at you. Her smirk is all teeth. "Did the little fashionista melt down again?"
You breathe through your nose.
Fake innocence and venom hidden behind every one of Ali's word. "You look tense. Is it like...just your resting bitch face or---?"
Your girlfriend cuts in sharply. "Ali. Shut the fuck up."
It's not loud, but sharp enough...real. The kind of tone that makes people flinch...Greg flinches. Her grip tightens on your thigh. You know it's meant to comfort you, but right now, it's only making you feel smaller.
Ali chuckles. "Damn. Did I touch a nerve?" She doesn't stop...of course she doesn't. "I was just wondering. She always looks so...bothered."
You stare out the window. Nails biting into your palms.
When the car finally pulls into a gas station, you mumble something about needing to stretch your legs and step out fast. The air outside is warm and sharp against your skin. You walk a few steps towards the entrance, just trying to breathe.
Greg's pumping gas. Your girlfriend and Adam say they're going inside the grab some snacks, asks if you want anything: "No i'm fine." you say.
Ali...she's following you, you have no idea why. She scoffs softly, "You know, you got this whole, 'Im better than you' thing going on, but I've seen girls like you before," she says, smug.
She continues to follow you, "What's wrong now? Not used to real people giving you shit?"
You stop walking, stare straight ahead. She laughs. "Thought so."
You close your eyes. For a second, you really think about it. About popping her in the face. About the satisfying crack it would make. The way her eyes would widen. How finally, FINALLY, you'd stop being the quiet one.
But instead, you turn around. She's still talking about you 'always being the victim and tryna be chill, but you're just a boyfriend stealer.'
This shit and that shit; Blah blah blah.
You're tired, emotionally fried. You meet her gaze, deep and cold.
"You're so exhausting, Ali," you say, voice calm. "You make me so fucking sad. Like drama has to be all you care about. You obsess over people you don't like and then cry when they don't kiss your ass."
Ali scoffs hesitantly, "Wow...okay--"
"No. You don't get to 'wow' me. I've put up with your shit for too long. You're obsessed with control and attention, and it's honestly pathetic."
"You're hating on another woman because your asshole-boyfriend doesn't respect you. Stand up and look what's in front of you. Worry about the fact that he doesn't respect you....And you don't respect yourself for being with him. So-so-SO sad Ali really."
You grab your phone. Open the UBER app.
"I am not doing this anymore," you say, opening the door grabbing your bag.
Ali crosses her arms, her face going through twenty different emotions. "What a-are you doing?"
"I'm getting an Uber," you tell her. "Because I'd rather spend thirty dollars alone in a car than share a ride with a bored little bully, who peaked at sixteen. Have a nice life, Ali. I really do hope you grow up."
Her mouth parts, just slightly. She's stunned. Doesn't say anything else.
You walk to the drug store near the gas station. The uber pings: Seven minutes away.
Your girlfriend texts:
[ her <3: where r u? ]
You don't answer.
You're just physically and spiritually done with every one. You enter the CVS and buy yourself, your favorite snack. You're breathing steadying.
The whole performance of being calm, kind, and collected around those who want to provoke you: OVER!
You didn't lose your cool. You didn't pop off. You didn't swing because that's not you.
You stood up. And that counts for something.
⊹✧˚
It's been a week. A full 7 days. A week of short texts, missed calls, awkward silences.
A week of you sitting with yourself. Listening to your own thoughts echo too loud in your bedroom.
A week being with your friends Gigi and Jo, pampering yourself to what you used to be.
It's late when she shows up. You knew she was coming, she asked if she could stop by and talk.
You said yes, even though you didn't know if you were ready.
Now she's standing in your room, quiet, in the soft halo of the lamp you always keep one: The Star shape one. She looks like she hasn't slept much. Eyes puffy, hair pulled back like she didn't care what she looked like, or maybe she didn't know how to fix herself to see you again.
You're sitting on the edge of your bed, hands between your knees, your heart pounding. She doesn't sit, not yet.
Neither of you speak. Finally, "I miss you," she says softly.
You nod once, blinking slow. "Yea, I know."
You had clothes laid on your bed, planning your looks for the upcoming semester, 10 days from now. She picks up one of your tops, gently smoothing it with her fingers, making space for herself to sit besides you. Not too close.
There's space between you, an invisible line created by everything that has happened. By everything that wasn't said or done when it needed to be.
"I didn't want it to be like this," she murmurs. "I just thought it would pass. That they'd come around. That I could keep the peace."
You stare at the top she was holding, it was pink and had embroidery flowers patterns on the hems. "You thought I'd keep taking it."
"I love you," she says, eyes watery. "I do. But I don't know how to be what you need. I didn't protect you. I am sorry." And you believe her. that she means it. That part of her really did want to do better.
It doesn't matter now, unfortunately it's too late and not enough.
You look at her, and your voice is quiet but steady. "I wanted so much to be accepted in your circle. And it hurts. But what hurt more was tat you saw it, and you still let it happen. You didn't choose me."
She winces. "I didn't know how to choose you without losing them."
You nod, "They're your people...you won't lose them."
Silence. She gulps, staring at her hands. "So this is really it?"
You don't answer right away. Your chest feels like it's releasing for the first time in weeks. You can finally breathe in your own skin. You look at her, still beautiful, still familiar.
But suddenly not yours anymore.
Your voice is gentle. "I think we outgrew each other. Or maybe we just stopped trying to grow in the same direction..."
She doesn't cry. Neither do you, but there's something in the air. Grief laced with relief.
You walk her to the door. She turns to look at you, opens her mouth, doesn't speak. You give her a small smile, sad--tired--kind. "Take care of yourself."
She nods, biting her lip, eyes glossy. "You too."
And then she's gone. You close the door. Rest your forehead against the wood. Let the silence swallow you.
