#//doesn’t matter!! Now I’m sleeping!!

[prettygirl-gabi]

A Day in the Life: Dating Azzi Fudd

Paring: Azzi Fudd x !content creator Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Summary: who doesn’t love a good day in the life.

I wake up to the sound of my phone alarm blaring, vibrating aggressively on my nightstand like it’s mad at me for something. With a groan, I reach out blindly, slapping around until I finally manage to turn it off.

Before I can roll over and go back to sleep, I feel a strong arm tighten around my waist.

“Mm-mm, don’t move,” Azzi mumbles against my neck, her voice raspy with sleep.

I huff out a laugh, attempting to wiggle free. “Azzi, I gotta get up. You know my mornings are busy.”

She just hums, nuzzling closer like she’s trying to merge with me. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that yesterday, and we were late to breakfast,” I remind her, but my voice has already softened.

Azzi lets out a dramatic sigh before finally letting go. “Fine,” she mutters, rolling onto her back. “But I better see you before practice.”

“You will,” I promise, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She smiles, eyes still closed, and I take a moment to admire her before slipping out of bed.

Morning Routine + Content Creation

The first thing I do after brushing my teeth is set up my camera. My fans—my Pookies—need their daily dose of content. I prop my phone up on my tripod and hit record.

“Good morning, Pookies!” I say, flashing a bright smile. “Another day, another grind. Your favorite content creator, cheerleader, and Azzi Fudd’s personal headache is here to give y’all the vibes.”

I turn the camera toward my vanity, showing off my morning setup. “Today, we got a game, so you already know the routine—hair, makeup, and a whole lotta setting spray because I’m not trying to sweat this off during cheers.”

As I chat with my Pookies, I go through my routine, answering some of the questions in the chat from my live stream.

“How’s Azzi?” one comment asks.

I grin. “She’s good! Clingy as ever, but y’all know I love that about her.”

“Is she playing tonight?”

“Of course. Y’all already know my girl doesn’t miss a game.” I glance toward the door. “Matter of fact, if she don’t hurry up and get outta bed, she might miss breakfast, though.”

As if on cue, Azzi peeks her head into the frame, her hair wild from sleep. “Who’s talking about me?”

I laugh. “Pookies wanna know if you’re playing tonight.”

Azzi squints at the screen before waving. “Tell them to pull up. I’m dropping buckets tonight.”

I turn back to the camera. “You heard the lady. Now, let me finish my routine before I end up running late for cheer practice.”

Cheer Practice + Lunch Date

By the time I get to the gym, the rest of the cheer squad is already stretching. I quickly join in, adjusting my UConn cheer uniform as I settle into position.

Practice is the usual mix of high-energy routines, stunts, and nonstop movement. I love it, but by the time we wrap up, my legs are already begging for a break.

As I’m gathering my things, I feel a familiar presence behind me before I even turn around.

“Did I miss anything?” Azzi asks, her hands casually slipping around my waist.

I lean into her. “Just me looking cute as hell in this uniform.”

Azzi chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You always do.”

We head to lunch together, grabbing seats at our usual table. I prop my phone up again, going live to let my Pookies in on the chaos.

“Guess who finally decided to wake up on time,” I tease, turning the camera toward Azzi.

She playfully rolls her eyes. “I always wake up on time.”

I give the camera a deadpan look. “Y’all, should I expose her?”

The chat immediately blows up with YES comments.

“Wow,” Azzi mutters, shaking her head. “Y’all just love drama.”

I grin before turning the camera off, deciding to focus on enjoying our lunch. Azzi nudges my plate toward me when she notices me picking at my food.

“You need to eat more,” she says.

I sigh but obey, knowing she won’t let it go. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Game Day Prep + Halftime Show

Back in my dorm, I set up another live. “Alright, Pookies, it’s game day! Y’all already know the drill—outfit check, hair check, and a whole lot of screaming for my girlfriend on the court.”

I show off my cheer fit and do a quick GRWM while hyping up the game. The chat is full of Pookies saying they’ll be watching, which makes me grin.

“Azzi better not make me look bad,” I joke. “I be hyping her up like she’s the GOAT, so she better perform.”

Right before heading out, I get a text from Azzi.

Azzi: You better cheer extra loud for me tonight.

Me: You better give me something to cheer for.

Her response is just a bunch of side-eye emojis.

The game is electric. The crowd is hype, the team is locked in, and from the sideline, I cheer my heart out. Every time Azzi makes a shot, I scream her name louder than anyone else.

At halftime, the squad performs, and I make sure to put my all into the routine. When I glance toward the bench, I catch Azzi watching me, a smirk playing on her lips.

After the game—which UConn wins, obviously—I rush onto the court, dodging people left and right until I reach her.

She wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “Did I give you something to cheer for?”

I grin. “Barely.”

Azzi gasps, shoving me playfully. “You’re such a hater.”

I laugh, looping my arms around her neck. “You love it, though.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Unfortunately.”

Late-Night Wind Down

Back at my dorm, I prop my phone up one last time for a late-night live.

“Pookies, today was a success! UConn won, I didn’t trip during halftime, and my girlfriend decided to show out for y’all.”

Azzi, already in my bed in one of my hoodies, peeks over my shoulder. “Are you still talking about me?”

I smirk. “They love you, girl. You should just start your own channel.”

Azzi shakes her head. “Nah, I’ll stick to basketball. You’re the content queen.”

I blow a kiss to the camera. “And on that note, goodnight, Pookies! Love y’all!”

As soon as I end the live, Azzi tugs me into bed.

“You talk to them more than me,” she teases.

I snuggle into her. “You jealous?”

Azzi rolls her eyes but holds me tighter. “Just a little.”

I grin, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Lucky for you, you’re my favorite person to bother.”

She hums. “Good. Now go to sleep before I start charging you for cuddles.”

I gasp. “You would never.”

Azzi smirks. “Try me.”

I shake my head, smiling as I close my eyes. Another busy day, another W.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 10)

Synopsis: You're barely holding yourself together. Last night’s kiss lingers in your mind, turning every second around her into slow, agonizing torture. She carries on like nothing happened, while you're drowning in everything unspoken. But how much longer can you pretend before it all comes crashing down? 

Word count: 4.7K 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Angst, Unspoken emotions, Lingering tension, Mild language, Physical injury 

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. Groaning, you force your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. Without even checking the screen, you reach for your phone, already feeling the dull ache in your head. When you finally glance at it, you see Wanda’s name flashing. 

You answer with a weak, barely audible, "Hello?" 

Wanda, however, sounds wide awake—and annoyed. "Where are you? We’re at the beach having surf lessons." 

You close your eyes, exhaling slowly. Just the thought of moving, of facing people, makes your exhaustion feel heavier. "I’ll pass," you mumble. "Not in the mood." 

Before she can protest, you end the call and, without hesitation, turn your phone off. You don’t even bother checking the time. What does it matter, anyway? 

With a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to ease the pounding in your head. Your gaze drifts to the ceiling, empty and unfocused. Last night lingers in your mind like a ghost, refusing to let you rest. That kiss. Or, more likely, the one Agatha won’t even remember. 

You couldn’t sleep last night, your thoughts running in circles, your body weighed down by something heavier than exhaustion. At some point, sleep must have taken over, but it doesn’t feel like rest. Just a momentary escape before reality came knocking again. 

You let out a humorless chuckle. You must look pathetic right now. 

Minutes pass in a haze before your doorbell starts ringing. At first, you ignore it, too drained to care. But when it keeps going—again and again, insistently—you sigh, already knowing who it is. 

Wanda. 

Dragging yourself out of bed, you still feel groggy as you make your way to the door. When you open it, Wanda takes one look at you—still in last night’s dress, hair a mess, dark circles under your eyes—and immediately deadpans, "Seriously?" 

Before you can respond, she steps inside like she owns the place, not even waiting for an invitation. You sigh and shut the door, watching as she heads straight for the couch, making herself comfortable. 

"You’re still in that dress?" she calls you out, raising an eyebrow. 

You shrug, not really in the mood for her commentary. 

Wanda sighs, leaning forward. "Go change into a swimsuit. We’re having a surf lesson." 

"I’m not going," you say flatly, sinking into the couch across from her. "I’m too tired." 

She studies you carefully, her sharp gaze softening after a moment. "Are you okay?" 

"I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all." 

She doesn’t buy it. You can see it in her face, the way her brows knit together in concern. She gets up, stepping closer, her hands gently squeezing your arms as she lowers her voice. "What happened?" 

You force a weak smile. "Nothing." 

Wanda isn’t convinced. "Did Rio do something?" 

You shake your head. "No." 

A pause. Then, carefully, "Agatha?" 

Your stomach twists. You shake your head again, but it feels less convincing this time. 

Wanda frowns, her worry only deepening. She’s your best friend—of course she sees right through you. And the last thing you want is to make her worry more. So, despite everything, you take a breath and force yourself to say, "Fine. I’ll get ready." 

Your voice lacks enthusiasm, and Wanda knows it, but she lets it go. 

Upstairs, you step into the shower, letting the cold water jolt you awake. The chill does nothing to erase the weight in your chest, but at least it helps clear your head. After drying off, you slip into a red two-piece bikini, draping a sheer black kimono over it. To hide whatever exhaustion still lingers on your face, you throw on oversized black sunglasses, grab your tote bag, and head back downstairs. 

Wanda gives you an approving once-over and smirks. "Look at that, you’re a human being again." 

You roll your eyes but smirk back. "Shut up." 

With that, the two of you leave the villa, heading toward the beach. 

But as you walk, your stomach tightens. 

Because soon, you’ll have to face Agatha. And after last night… you don’t know if you’re ready for that. 

When you arrive at the beach, you spot Jen, Lilia, Alice, and... Agatha. The sight of her sends a jolt through you, and you fight to keep your expression neutral. Your stomach twists, your cheeks threaten to flush, but you force yourself to keep it together. You have to. 

As you approach the group, Jen is the first to greet you with a bright smile. 

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Alice teases, smirking. "We thought you bailed on us." 

Lilia chimes in with a chuckle, "Or maybe she just needed her beauty sleep." 

"Or," Jen interjects, a knowing glint in her eyes, "she was exhausted from taking Agatha home last night and making sure she didn’t pass out on the floor." 

Your body tenses at her words, though she says it playfully. It’s meant to be lighthearted—a teasing defense—but it only makes your chest feel heavier. 

Agatha, who had been quiet until now, tilts her head toward you. "Thank you." 

Then, with a smirk, she adds, "I just hope I didn’t do anything too reckless." She lets out a small laugh, like it’s a joke, like it’s nothing. 

Your breath catches for just a second. 

Reckless? 

She kissed you. She kissed you, and now she’s standing here, acting like nothing happened. Because, to her, nothing did happen. 

You muster a small smile and shake your head. "You didn’t," you lie. 

She watches you for a bit too long, like she’s trying to read something on your face. Your fingers twitch at your side. You’re the one to break eye contact first. 

Before anything else can be said, a voice speaks behind you and Wanda. 

"Alright, where we at?" 

You and Wanda turn around—and your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

She looks just as shocked as you. "Y/N?" 

You stutter, barely managing to get her name out. "Natasha?" 

Wanda blinks between the two of you. "Wait, you guys know each other?" 

Natasha smirks, arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah, we do." Then, with an amused tilt of her head, she adds, "I’m her ex." 

The group collectively gasps. 

"Our surf instructor is your ex?" Jen blurts out, gaping at you. 

You don’t miss the way Agatha shifts slightly at the revelation. You don’t dare look at her directly, but you feel the shift in her energy. 

The questions are about to start flying, but you shut them down quickly. "Can we just get to learning how to surf? Please?" 

Thankfully, that’s enough to steer everyone’s attention back to the lesson. 

Natasha walks you all through the basics, demonstrating movements on the sand before sending you off into the water. You do your best to focus, but it’s hard when Agatha is only a few feet away—and now Natasha is here, too. 

You feel Natasha’s gaze linger on you more than once, but you ignore it, keeping your head down and listening. 

Once the lesson is over, Natasha claps her hands together. "Alright, let’s see what you got." 

Alice, Jen, and Lilia eagerly grab their boards and head straight for the ocean. You and Wanda are about to follow when Natasha calls your name. 

You hesitate before turning back to face her. "Yeah?" 

She gives you a slow, amused once-over before grinning. "Long time no see, Y/N L/N." 

You exhale sharply through your nose. "Natasha Romanoff." You mirror her teasing tone. 

She tilts her head. "Well, didn’t expect to run into you here. What are you doing in Malibu?" 

"Bachelorette vacation," you explain. "Jen’s the bride—she’s the one who probably hired you. And I’m one of her bridesmaids." 

Natasha nods, processing that. "Makes sense." 

She’s about to say something else, but you cut her off. "I should go. My friends are waiting." 

She smirks but doesn’t push. "Go ahead, then. Try not to wipe out too hard." 

You roll your eyes, grabbing Wanda’s wrist and dragging her toward the water. 

Wanda, of course, is grinning like an idiot. "So. That happened." 

"Shut up," you mutter. 

You attempt surfing, but after multiple failed attempts, you give up, dragging your board back to the shore and opting to just swim instead. The ocean feels cool against your skin, a temporary relief from the weight in your chest. 

As you float in the water, you glance back toward the waves, watching your friends ride them with varying levels of success. Your gaze drifts, scanning the group, until it inevitably lands on Agatha. 

Your heart clenches. 

She kissed you last night. 

And she doesn’t even know. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and tear your eyes away from her, turning and swimming farther out. Away from her. Away from everything. 

But no matter how far you swim, the ache follows you. 

Because you’re the only one who remembers. 

After some time of swimming, your leg suddenly cramps, and a sharp pain shoots through your calf. Panic sets in as you struggle to stay afloat, your arms flailing against the relentless waves. Your breaths turn shallow, frantic. 

"Help!" you manage to choke out, your voice barely carrying over the noise of the waves. You try again, louder, but the water pulls you under before you can see if anyone hears. Your limbs feel heavier, exhaustion creeping in. The last thing you register is a blurred figure rushing toward you before everything goes dark. 

A rush of air fills your lungs as you sputter, coughing up seawater. The world around you is hazy, but the sensation of wet sand beneath your back is grounding. You gasp for air, blinking rapidly against the harsh sunlight. 

"Hey, hey—you're okay," a familiar voice soothes. 

Your vision clears, and the first thing you see is Agatha kneeling beside you, her brows furrowed in deep concern. Her damp hair clings to her face, and her breathing is still uneven. Natasha is on your other side, watching you intently, her lips pressed together in something like relief. 

Jen exhales sharply, pressing a hand to her chest. "Jesus, Y/N, you scared the hell out of us. If Agatha hadn't noticed—" 

"Luckily, she did," Lilia adds, still looking shaken. "And Natasha got to you fast with CPR." 

Your chest tightens at their words. You slowly sit up, Agatha’s hands immediately steadying you. 

"You okay?" she asks, her voice lower now, softer. There’s something in her expression—something that mirrors the look she gave you last night. It makes your stomach flip. 

You nod, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah… thanks to you." 

Agatha doesn’t respond right away. Instead, her gaze flickers briefly toward Natasha before she helps you to your feet. Natasha moves in beside you, a steadying presence as you find your balance. 

"Thanks, Natasha," you say, turning to her with another small smile. She nods, but you swear there’s a flicker of irritation in Agatha’s eyes when you look back at her. 

Jen sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. "Alright, let’s get you out of the sun for a bit." 

You all make your way back to where your belongings are scattered on the sand. Wrapping your kimono around yourself, you grab your tote bag, your body still trembling slightly from the ordeal. Just as you take a breath to collect yourself, Natasha steps closer. 

"You sure you're really okay?" she asks, her voice dipping slightly. 

You smirk, already knowing where this is going. "I’m fine, Natasha." 

She grins. "Well, if you start feeling lightheaded or anything, I can always give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation again. Just say the word." 

You laugh, shaking your head. "Appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll live." 

Natasha chuckles before shifting gears, her tone turning casual. "How about tonight? Let’s catch up over drinks." 

You hesitate. "I’d love to, but… I really just want to spend time with my friends for now." It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also not the full truth. You just aren’t interested. 

Natasha studies you for a moment, then nods knowingly. "Alright. You’ve got my number—call me after the vacation if you change your mind." 

You smile politely. "Nice seeing you again, though." 

She returns the smile before giving you one last look and heading off. You exhale, letting the tension roll off your shoulders. When you glance back at your group, Agatha is watching you, an unreadable expression on her face, but the moment your eyes meet, she quickly looks away. 

Your heart starts pounding all over again, and you know exactly why. 

After that, you all head to Geoffrey’s for a late brunch. You order a ridiculous amount of food, realizing just how hungry you are after skipping breakfast and everything that happened today. The conversation flows easily between the group, filled with laughter and teasing, but you’re hyper-aware of Agatha sitting across from you. You do your best to avoid looking at her, but you can feel her gaze on you from time to time. Every glance makes your skin prickle with something you refuse to name. 

Just when you think you’ve regained your composure, Wanda smirks and drops a grenade into the conversation. "So… how was your surfing lesson?" she asks, clearly enjoying herself. 

You groan, already knowing where this is going. "It was fine." 

"Fine?" Lilia echoes, raising an eyebrow. "You looked anything but fine when Natasha was giving you CPR." 

You roll your eyes. "First of all, I almost drowned. Maybe focus on that? And second, it wasn’t that dramatic." 

"Oh, come on," Jen cuts in, leaning forward with a grin. "You dated her. That’s pretty dramatic." 

"Yeah, and we broke up," you remind them, stabbing at your food. "Over a year ago." 

"Wait, how did you two even meet?" Alice asks, curiosity piqued. 

You sigh, deciding there’s no escaping this conversation. "Some club. A year ago. We were together for three months, and it ended on good terms." 

"And you didn’t know she could surf?" Lilia asks, amused. 

"Nope. No idea." 

They exchange glances before Wanda smirks. "Natasha still looks like she’s down bad for you." 

You shrug. "That’s not my problem." 

"First Rio, now Natasha?" Lilia teases. "What is this, a rom-com? Who are you gonna pick?" 

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Neither." 

Before they can push further, Jen claps her hands together. "Alright, enough of that. We’re going to karaoke tonight. Be at the main entrance of the resort at five. No excuses." 

Lilia practically vibrates with excitement. "Oh my God, it’s been ages since we’ve done this! I can’t wait." 

You smile, relieved that the topic has shifted. The conversation continues with lighthearted chatter, and soon, everyone finishes their meals and heads back to their villas to get ready for the night ahead. 

You’re back at your villa now, moving quickly as you take a shower, letting the warm water soothe the tension from earlier. After drying off, you throw on a black cropped tee, high-waisted jeans, white Nike sneakers, and grab your black Saint Laurent Le 5 à 7 Mini bag. Simple, comfortable, effortless—or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. 

Just as you’re about to head out, your phone buzzes. You check the screen—Rio. 

Hey there... 

You stare at the message for a second before typing out a response. 

Hi. 

You cringe. That was so lame. But you don’t want to think too much about it, so you put your phone on silent and shove it into your bag before stepping out of your villa. 

When you arrive at the meeting spot, they’re all already there, waiting. Your eyes instinctively land on Agatha. She’s wearing a black blazer draped over a black silk camisole tucked into high-waisted jeans, paired with black boots. 

You swallow, pushing down whatever reaction threatens to surface, forcing yourself to look away. 

Lilia claps her hands together, practically bouncing on her feet. "Okay, now that we’re finally complete, can we go? I’ve been waiting all day for this!" 

Everyone chuckles, and soon you all pile into the van. You slide in beside Wanda, settling in, only for Agatha to climb in next, taking the open seat beside you. 

You freeze for a second. You’re sandwiched now—trapped between Wanda and Agatha. 

You subtly shift, trying to create even the smallest bit of space between you and Agatha, but she notices. 

"It’s fine," she says casually, her voice smooth as ever. "I have plenty of space." 

You glance at her. She offers you a small, knowing smile. You force yourself to return it, a tight-lipped attempt at nonchalance, before pulling out your phone as a distraction. 

Inside, though? 

You are dying. 

Every second feels like an eternity, every inch between you both—too little. Your heart pounds, your mind races, but you sit there, face impassive, acting as if nothing is wrong. Acting as if this isn’t absolute torture. 

After twenty minutes, the van pulls up in front of a karaoke bar. Jen hops out first, grinning as she leads the way inside. The receptionist greets you all warmly and escorts you to the private room Jen reserved. The space is dimly lit, with neon-colored lights casting soft glows across the plush seating and the large screen at the front of the room. A sleek karaoke machine stands ready, microphones resting in their holders. 

"Alright, drinks first or singing first?" Jen asks, plopping down onto the lounge sofa. 

"Drinks!" Lilia exclaims immediately, and the group laughs. 

You all place your orders—food, snacks, and, of course, more alcohol. The drinks arrive quickly, and soon, everyone is eating and chatting, laughter filling the space. Then, the karaoke begins. Lilia confidently takes the mic first, dramatically performing a power ballad, exaggerating every note just to make the group crack up. Jen follows, belting out an early 2000s pop anthem with so much enthusiasm that no one even minds when she goes off-key.  As the night goes on, the drinks keep flowing, and so does the music. Everyone is tipsy now, swaying to the rhythm, arms draped over each other’s shoulders. You don’t sing much, choosing instead to sit back and watch, occasionally taking a sip of your drink. But mostly, you watch Agatha. 

You try not to. You really do. But the way she laughs, the way she throws her head back when she sings along to someone else’s performance—it’s impossible to look away. You tell yourself it's just the alcohol making you sentimental. But you know the truth. You’re still thinking about last night. About the kiss. About the way her lips felt against yours, even if it wasn’t real. Even if she doesn’t remember. 

Then, it’s Agatha’s turn. 

She stands up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before grabbing the microphone. She scrolls through the song list for a moment, then selects something. When the opening chords play, your heart drops. 

Something by The Beatles. 

Of all songs, why this one? 

She starts, her voice softer than expected but effortlessly beautiful. 

"Something in the way she moves…" 

You swallow hard. It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But every word feels like a dagger, lodging itself deeper into your chest. The worst part? Agatha doesn’t even seem to notice. She just sings, swaying lightly to the melody, her voice wrapping around the lyrics like a gentle caress. 

"Attracts me like no other lover…" 

You grip your drink, staring at the condensation forming on the glass as if it holds the answers to your unraveling composure. Your friends are enraptured, some singing along, others watching Agatha in admiration. But she keeps glancing at you. Like she’s trying to gauge your reaction. Like she knows—no, she doesn’t know. She can’t. 

And then, the bridge. The part that absolutely ruins you. 

"You're asking me, will my love grow…" 

"I don't know, I don't know…" 

Your breath catches in your throat. You press your lips together, gripping your drink tighter, your knuckles whitening. You should look away, should laugh it off like it’s nothing. But you can’t. Because it’s not nothing. It’s everything. 

Agatha sings the next line, her eyes flickering toward you just as she reaches it. 

"You stick around, now it may show…" 

As if you haven’t been sticking around. As if you haven’t been carrying this ache for years, waiting for something, anything, to tell you that maybe—maybe—you weren’t alone in it. 

By the time the song ends, your eyes are stinging, but you refuse to let a tear fall. You quickly wipe at the corner of your eye before anyone notices. Before she notices. 

Agatha beams as she puts the mic down. "That was fun!" she says, completely unaware of the damage she just did. 

You feel like you’re drowning. You don’t know whether to leave, drink more, or just sit there and endure it. You stare at your drink, hoping the liquor will burn away the lump in your throat. 

A gentle nudge pulls you from your thoughts. Wanda slides in next to you, lowering her voice. "Hey, you okay? You’ve been acting weird all night. Actually, all morning too." 

You force a small, weak smile. "I’m fine." 

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she sighs and hands you another drink. "Here. At least pretend to have fun." 

You take it, offering a quiet thanks, but your mind is elsewhere. On a song you wish you hadn’t heard. On a girl who doesn’t even realize she’s breaking you apart, piece by piece. 

After a few drinks and multiple songs—mostly sung by Lilia—Jen finally notices that you’ve been unusually quiet. You haven’t picked up the mic even once. 

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Jen nudges you with her elbow. “You’re not getting away with just sitting there.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, waving her off. “Just enjoying the show.” 

“Lies,” Lilia interjects, grinning. “C’mon, Y/N, it’s your turn!” 

You shake your head, but then Agatha speaks up. “Yeah, what’s up with that? Don’t tell me you’re shy.” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, playful but expectant. 

Alice smirks. “Maybe she just need the right song.” 

You hesitate, but the way everyone’s looking at you—especially Agatha, who now raises an eyebrow in challenge—makes it impossible to refuse. With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the couch and head toward the song selection screen. 

“Fine. One song.” 

You scroll aimlessly, then, without thinking, you pick Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli. 

The moment the opening chords play, something in your chest tightens. Why this song? You don’t even know. Maybe it just slipped out. But the second the melody fills the room, memories from last night flood back. The way Agatha had drunkenly sung it on the way back to her villa, swaying slightly, smiling at you like she really meant it. Then— the kiss. 

You steal a glance at Agatha. She’s not looking at you. 

Taking a breath, you start singing, your voice softer than usual. “You're just too good to be true… Can’t take my eyes off you…” 

The words sting. This used to be a happy song for you. Now, it’s a cruel reminder of something that only you seem to remember. Your voice wavers slightly as you push through the verse, trying not to think about how unfair this is. Agatha got to have that moment without consequences—without the weight of remembering—while you’re stuck feeling every second of it. 

You reach the next line, forcing yourself to meet Agatha’s gaze. “But if you feel like I feel…” 

It’s brief. Just a flicker of eye contact. Not enough to raise suspicion, but enough that something in Agatha’s expression changes. She wasn’t paying attention before, but now she is. Her head tilts slightly, lips parting just a fraction, as if some part of this is tugging at her memory. 

You reach the chorus, willing yourself to keep your voice steady. “I love you, baby, and if it’s quite all right…” 

You try to smile through it, but your eyes betray you. There’s an ache in your voice that wasn’t there before. The others notice—Jen and Alice exchange glances, Wanda’s gaze sharpens slightly. She’s thinking. Wondering. Who was this song really for? 

Then, you see it—Agatha shifting in her seat, suddenly looking uneasy. She rubs the back of her neck, her fingers tapping against her knee like she’s trying to place a familiar feeling. Like something about this song is stirring something inside her. 

But she doesn’t remember, does she? You can’t let yourself hope. 

You finish the song, but there’s no relief. The room erupts in light applause, and Lilia nudges you with a grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” 

Alice teases, “Damn, Y/N, that was kinda romantic.” 

You force a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure.” 

And then— 

Agatha leans over, a smirk playing at her lips. “Didn’t expect you to pick that one.” 

Your stomach drops. Of course, she doesn’t get it. Of course, she has no idea why you picked it. 

You tilt your head, forcing casualness into your voice. “Funny, I could’ve sworn I heard you singing it first.” 

Agatha blinks, caught off guard for a second, before she laughs lightly. “Did I? Must’ve been the tequila.” 

And that’s when you know. 

She really, truly doesn’t remember. 

Your chest feels tight. You nod, forcing a small smile before muttering, “Gonna get some air.” 

You don’t wait for anyone to respond before slipping out of the room, the sound of laughter and music fading behind you. Because you cannot sit there and pretend everything is fine. 

You step outside into the cool night air, the neon lights from the bar casting shifting colors over the pavement. The distant hum of laughter and music filters through the walls, but out here, it’s quieter. Just the sound of your own unsteady breathing. 

You lean back against the wall, tilting your head up, blinking rapidly against the sting in your eyes. Your shoulders shake, but you don’t sob. You just let the tears fall, silent and unchecked, gripping your own arms like it’s the only thing keeping you together. 

The door swings open, and footsteps pause. A moment of hesitation before a familiar voice speaks—soft, careful. It’s Wanda. 

“…Hey.” 

You quickly wipe at your face, sniffling as you force a weak chuckle. “God. I—this is so stupid.” 

Wanda doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she leans against the wall beside you, arms crossed, letting the quiet settle between you. She doesn’t push, doesn’t pry. Just waits. 

Finally, gently. “It’s not stupid.” 

You let out a shaky breath, staring up at the sky. “You ever just—want to forget someone?” 

Wanda tilts her head, considering. “That bad, huh?” 

You swallow hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve. And then, barely above a whisper, “She kissed me last night.” 

Wanda blinks. “…Agatha?” 

You nod, lips pressing together like you can still feel it. 

Wanda exhales, understanding dawning in her expression. “And she doesn’t remember.” 

A hollow laugh escapes you, one that holds no humor. “Nope.” 

Silence stretches between you. Then, Wanda huffs out a quiet, almost incredulous laugh, shaking her head. 

“Of course she fucking doesn’t.” 

You drag your hands over your face, frustration and exhaustion pulling at your features. “She was wasted. She—she grabbed me, and she looked at me like—like I was everything. And then she just—” Your voice catches, your throat tightening around the words. But you force yourself to go on. “She kissed me. And I—God, I wanted to kiss her back so bad, Wanda. But I didn’t. Because I knew. I knew she wasn’t thinking straight.” 

Wanda watches you quietly, her gaze unreadable, steady. 

You let out another laugh, brittle and strained. “And now she’s in there, laughing, drinking, acting like nothing ever happened. And I’m out here like a fucking idiot, crying about it.” 

Wanda doesn’t tell you that you’re overreacting. She doesn’t tell you to move on, to brush it off, to pretend it didn’t matter. 

She just sighs softly, then reaches out and pulls you into a hug. 

For a second, you don’t move. You hesitate, frozen. And then you break—burying your face in Wanda’s shoulder, gripping onto her like she’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. 

And maybe, for now, that’s enough. 

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother

[jjsloverre]

blurb of babydaddy!jj and pouge!reader taking a mental day together

in which… babydaddy!jj takes pouge!reader for a mental walk to talk about the pregnancy

contains… pure fluff, a little cliffhangerrrrrr, foreshadowing (not proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“cmon mama to be! we don’t got all day!” jj yelled for you.

you were getting ready for something. you didn’t even know since jj wouldn’t spill anything about. “coming!” you screamed back. you walked down the stairs and straight into his arms. “hey pretty mama, ready for this walk?” your eyes shot up at him. “walk? why are we going on a walk?”

“for your mental health and just to talk you know? and then i got some pizza in the lil square ways you like em. now cmon and let’s go, we’re walking for an hour!” he exclaimed. “okay baby.” you smile.

as you and jj are walking, your minds go to the topic of your pregnancy. “what do you want our little baby to be?” jj asked you, thinking hard about the question, you find your answer. “i want a girl, what do you want?”

“i want twins honestly, one boy one girl. can’t i just nut inside you and we have twins?” jj asked while he intertwined your fingers together.

“no smart guy that isn’t how that works.” you smile up at his pretty blue eyes. “well how does it work? how can i get you to have twins?”

“um? genetics?”

“real funny ma.”

“i really hope our baby has your eyes, they’re the prettiest color ever.” he smiles hard, his beautiful smile coming out. “i hope our baby has your beauty and brains. cause i don’t have brains for shit.”

“what else do you wanna talk about baby?” you brought your hands up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, (and also biting him per usual.)

“ready for the ultrasound?” jj asked. “really really ready!” you exclaimed. after just 30 minutes, you begged jj to take you guys back to the house, so you could eat the pizza he talked about.

★

“like the pizza?” jj asked. “course i do! it’s really really good, oh and jayj?” you look up at his pretty blue eyes. “what’s up?”

“do you regret this? like getting me pregnant? what if you have other baby mamas?” jj looked at you pretty confused. he didn’t understand where this concern was coming from. but then again, he realized you were pregnant, and probably had millions of questions about his past hookups. “i don’t fuck girls raw, i use protection. and i only didn’t do it with you cause you were my close friend and i trusted you to… i guess fuck raw? i honestly didn’t mean to get you pregnant, but to answer your question… no i don’t regret it. i’ve always wanted kids! didn’t think it would be this early but if it’s with you? wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

“really?” you whispered.

“really.”

“can we… go to the mall for some stuff? and then a spa?” you cuddled into his arms while he rubbed your growing belly. “hell yeah we can! we can do whatever you want.”

“yay thank you!”

“no problem baby. hey… why don’t you get some rest? got a big day tomorrow don’t we?”

“yeah we do… thank you for this mental day and the walk, i didn’t realize how much it would help me, but it helped so much.” you whispered to jj, falling asleep in his arms.

★

as you went to sleep, jj had a plan that would change everything. he got on the phone with kiara.

“look… we don’t talk but i need a favor, don’t flirt with me either. and i mean it, i need to go ring shopping for y/n, i’m asking you for help since you’re her best friend, differences aside, do this for her and leave my drama out of it.”

“fine…” kie whispered back through the phone. “what time asshole.” jj rolled his eyes. “lose the attitude, the fuck you mad for? just because i rejected you to be with the mother of MY child? that doesn’t matter no more, but anyway… friday at noon while she’s at lunch with her parents. thanks kie.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @bee-43 @anacamofficial @superlegend216 @eddxemxnson @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @sttaejoon-blog @glitterybombshell @idontknowwhyimhere33 @moonywhisp3rs @imsiriuslyreal @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

a/n- a little short but ty for 500 followers! and my bday in 20 days? we bouta t up👅👅 anyway! enjoy this foreshadowing 😉

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here

[reidology13]

in my life, I love you more

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader - He comes home after a hard case

cw: fluff, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, a few barely suggestive thoughts, really just cuties wc: 1.7k a/n: this is basically an au where aaron and haley divorced when jack was about one, and they have shared custody so it doesn’t line up with canon at all <3 this whole fic is serving nuclear family but she’s just an acts of service girly okayyy

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“Look, it’s a buttafly!” The four-year-old tugged on your hand, pointing to the window, where a small grey insect fluttered around the porch light, seeking refuge from the dark.

“No, Jack, that’s a moth.” 

“Buttafly.”

“Okay, it’s a butterfly.” You smiled at his insistence, conceding with a squeeze of his hand, “Say goodnight to the butterfly.”

“Goodnight, Buttafly.” He didn’t move, looking at you expectantly, and it took a moment to understand what he was waiting for.

“Goodnight, Butterfly.” You waved to the moth with your free hand before turning back to the boy, tilting your head in the direction of his room, “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

“I’m not tired.” He whined, although he had been yawning non-stop for the past half an hour.

“I’ll tell you a story.” The bribe had his face lit up in seconds, and he practically flew down the corridor to his room. You followed him, reminding him that he had to brush his teeth before you could tuck him in. He pouted, but begrudgingly agreed, walking with you to the bathroom. You helped him hold his toothbrush, brushing his teeth with him, shushing him when he tried to speak through the toothbrush and toothpaste in his mouth.

A minute or two later, you were back in Jack’s room, tucking him under the covers before sitting down on the edge of his bed. You had his favourite book open in your lap, ready to start reading it, when he spoke.

“I miss daddy.” You looked over at him, the tears in the corners of his eyes, your heart nearly breaking at the sight, knowing how hard Aaron’s job was on both of them.

“He’ll be here in the morning, I promise.” You knew it was true, in the three years you’d been working for him, Aaron had never made you watch Jack overnight—you could still hear his voice, ‘You’re a babysitter, not a nanny��—and if something went wrong you would drop him off at his mother’s. Despite all of this, you spent most nights in the guest room, enough that it was slowly becoming yours, more so than the dorm room you were supposed to be living in. It was almost jarring every time Aaron’s week with Jack was over, and you had to go back to that lifeless room that was technically yours.

“I want him now!” No matter how well-behaved Jack was, he was still a child, and you could spot the tantrum that was close to exploding. It was fair, he had the right to be upset, but it was getting late and he needed to sleep.

“How about I tell you a new story tonight, would that help?” He perked up a little at that, nodding, and you used your thumb to wipe away the unshed tears from his eyes.

“Okay.” He sniffled, the kind children do when they’re pulling themselves together.

“Fantastic. Once upon a time,” you started, realising too late that coming up with a story on the spot was going to be much harder than you’d thought, “there was a superhero. He flew around, saving people that were in danger, and he had a son, who was a lot like you, now that I think about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, brushing some hair out of the boy’s eyes as they started to grow heavy, “So, one day, the superhero had to fight a really bad guy, and he didn’t make it home for dinner.” You didn’t mention that most of the time, ‘bad guy’ meant stacks of paperwork.

Jack’s eyes finally slipped shut, and you sighed in relief at the fact that you could start to wrap up the story, as you had been rapidly running out of ideas, and there hadn’t been many of them in the first place.

“His son was very sad that the superhero wasn’t there, and he struggled to get to sleep, since he missed his father so much. But the superhero felt bad, too, and in the morning he made his son pancakes to show him how much he loved him” Jack had started to snore, the small sound that came with hard nights like that one. You turned off the lamp, leaving his small nightlight on for if he woke up, and stood, careful not to wake him. You still held his book in your hands, placing the forgotten story on the bookshelf for another night.

Back in the living room, you tidied up the toys Jack had left out, the bright mess bringing attention to the neutral and minimalist nature of the rest of the apartment. Once all of the toys were put away in their box, you checked in on Jack, just to make sure he was still asleep, although you knew that if he woke up he would be out of his room and calling for you. He was asleep, and Aaron still wasn’t back, so you packed the dishwasher and wiped down the dining table that was still messy from dinner and anything else you could think of to fill the time.

You had circled back around to unpacking the dishwasher by the time the front door clicked open. Aaron dropped his briefcase on the table, slumping into one of the chairs, exhaustion etched into every line on his face.

“You don’t have to do that, I don’t pay you to be my cleaner.” He peeled off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair beside him, you did your best not to follow the movements too closely.

“I know, but you barely have time for yourself. Have you had dinner?” You already knew the answer was no, he was terrible at taking care of himself, even worse at admitting it.

“It’s fine, I’ll make something, go home, get some sleep.”

“Are you kicking me out?” 

“I’m saying you don’t have to stay.” His words said one thing, but the way he tugged at his tie, pulling it loose, had you thinking about everything but leaving.

“I want to. You look rough, it’s the least I can do.” You opened the cupboard, grabbing a bowl that you had only placed there a moment earlier.

“I really look that bad?” As far as you were concerned, Aaron Hotchner looking bad was physically impossible, unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say that to ease his mind.

“You look tired.”

“I’m going to check on Jack.” Kids, then. It was always kids. You finished unpacking the dishwasher as you waited for him to come back, then pulled out the leftovers from dinner. He walked back into the room, sitting back down as you scooped a portion of the pasta you had made earlier that night into a bowl.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“How was he today?” Aaron Hotchner for no. Sometimes you wondered if he thought that regular people couldn’t detect basic deflection, or if he just didn’t care about subtlety.

“He was good, we went to the park after I picked him up from school, let him tire himself out before dinner. We had pasta, which is what you’ll be having in a few minutes, and put him to bed. That bit was hard, he missed you.” You placed the bowl into the microwave, setting the timer and pressing start.

“Not too much trouble?”

“You know he’s an angel, one story and he was out.” He nodded, and you sat in silence for a second before you spoke up again, voice softer than before. “You’ve done a great job raising him.”

“No, I haven’t. You and Haley have done an amazing job.”

“You’re that boy’s hero, Aaron, that doesn’t come out of nowhere.” The microwave dinged, and you took the bowl out, placing it down in front of him, “Careful, it’s still hot.”

“I wasn’t aware, thank you.” You’d met a few of his coworkers, when Jack needed to be picked up by Penelope, or you took him for a playdate with Henry. You wondered if the rumours you’d heard about him having no sense of humour were true, or if they just didn’t understand it.

“Sorry, I’m still in kid mode.” You laughed, a breathy, nervous sound that echoed awkwardly in the quiet space, “I’m too tired for this.”

“Too tired for what?” Aaron spoke, an amused smile gracing his face, so different from how he smiled at Jack. It was new, unfamiliar, and you turned away at the sight of it because surely looking at it for too long would be bad for your health.

“I don’t know, talking. Interacting with people.” By ‘people,’ you really just meant Aaron; you weren’t even particularly tired, just too tired for him with his jacket off and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

“Then go to bed.” The smile on his face grew broader, switching almost imperceptibly from entertained to smug, and if you didn’t know better you would have wondered if he could actually read your mind. He couldn’t, obviously. Not because he wasn’t a good profiler, but because if he knew the things you thought about, you would’ve been fired years ago.

“Is that an order?”

“Just get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, not moving from your place as you rinsed out the few dishes you had created, minus the bowl that Aaron was still eating from.

“I mean it, you take care of Jack,” the ‘and me’ went without saying, “please take care of yourself, too.”

“Okay, fine.” You relented, finally setting down the dishcloth, the idea of your bed too tempting to let up. As you walked towards the guest room, Aaron’s voice called out, quiet and low.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You echoed back, stepping into your room for a moment before your head popped back out of the doorway, “It’s a Saturday tomorrow, you don’t have to go into work unless you have a case, right?”

“Right.” He nodded, taking a bite of pasta, and you smiled at how perfect he looked. Tired, stressed, sitting dishevelled at the dining table eating pasta that might have been in the shape of dinosaurs. 

“Make him pancakes.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[click4rainy]

Could you do NSFW headcanons of Shang Tsung please?

Sassy Sorcerer//Shang Tsung Boyfriend HeadCanons

👽:I gotchu pookie bear. teehee 🫶🏼

✅:Proof Read

🖇️:Shang Tsung x Reader

⚠️:NSFW/AFAB!Reader/Mentions of fucking a sassy ass man

SFW 👉🏼👈🏼

★ He’ll never admit it outright, but he’s utterly enchanted with you. He’s used to manipulating others for his benefit, but with you? He uses that silver coated tongue of his for sweet, whispered praises and slow, teasing declarations of devotion.

★ “You think I only speak sweet words to sway you? No, my love….I speak them because every syllable is true. And if you doubt me, allow me to prove it— again and again.”

★ He never openly displays jealousy (or at least he thinks he doesn’t….) but the millisecond somebody’s eyes linger on you for too long, he gets subtly possessive, his hand on your lower back and keeping you close.

★ “I do hate it when people forget their place….shall I remind them?” “They do know you belong to me, don’t they?” “Come love, overeager eyes irk me.”

★ This man absolutely loves to tease you. Mercilessly. Your reactions always amuse him, especially when he gets you all flustered and stammering. Or even if you try to fire back, he revels in it. Always having one up over you.

★ “Oh, why so shy suddenly? We both know there’s no need for that, precious.” “Mmh, witty today, aren’t we?” “Don’t be coy, pet.” “I do love it when you’re angry, it’s quite cute.”

★ A slow graze against your spine, fingertips lightly tracing your pulse, a “casual” brush of his lips near your ear, just remember every touch from your lover is always calculated and intentional.

★ “Every inch of you fascinates me. It’s only natural I indulge in my….curiosities.” He’ll murmur, ghosting his fingers over your collarbone, looking at you with something akin to admiration.

★ I’m gonna say he enjoys watching you sleep. (Not in a creepy way of course! Unless…?) but seriously, there’s just something about the way you look so peaceful. A softness to you that seems to warm his cold heart. It’s a rare moment of genuine affection with a man of his caliber.

★ Softly chuckling as he brushes a lock a hair from your face (or just cupping your cheek lightly) he whispers, “So vulnerable….yet the power you have over me is everything, but.”

★ Shang Tsung loves gift giving—and all of his presents are nothing short of extravagant and mysterious—surprising you with trinkets and artifacts that always seem….otherworldly. When you ask where he gets said gifts, he merely smirks.

★ “Does it really matter where it came from, love? It belongs to you now. And nothing in this realm—nor any other—will change that.”

★ He’s actually an amazing listener despite his self absorbed attitude. Shang values your thoughts, and you intellectually stimulate him. He enjoys conversations where you challenge him, even if he’ll never admit fully when you’ve bested him. “Ah, you truly believe that, do you? Then convince me. I do so enjoy watching you argue with such fire in your eyes.”

★ You two definitely have matching, over the top, lavish robes for spa time. Because Shang Tsung insists on a bi weekly spa time with you. Cucumber eyes, mud baths, green stuff on the face—the whole thing, on top of regular mani/pedis. (Material gworl!!!) he’s just that guy, you know?

★ Finds your defiance extremely attractive. You could be spitting venom into his face until you’re red in your own, challenge his every word, and he would only find himself more obsessed.

★ “Tsk tsk, such spite coming from those sweet lips. You defy me because you’re dissatisfied? Or maybe it’s what comes after, that you’re craving, hmm?”

NSFW 🗿🙈

★ This man is obviously into ownership. You’re his, just as he is yours. Though you’re the one who’s on your knees before him, eager to please more than half the time.

★ “So obedient, you must be wanting some sort of reward,” He coos, cupping your face before tangling your hair around his fingers (or gripping your collar because he’s most definitely into collaring you), pulling your head back to look at him.

★ Shang Tsung is an extremely meticulous man, very passionate when it comes to bringing you pleasure beyond your own comprehension. Toys, his fingers, tongue, dick. Whatever he’s using he knows exactly how to. In fact, he probably knows your body better than you do at this point.

★ “You like this, love?” He’ll grunt out, angling his hips to drive his cock into that sweet spot even deeper than before, making your head fall back as you moan out his name, clawing at his shoulders and back. “And this?” He asks, feigning innocence while drilling into you with more force, hands gripping your hips, sinking his fingertips into the soft skin.

★ Loves overstimulating you to the brink of tears. Using a bullet vibe against your clit with your arms bound behind your back, sat at the edge of the bed, Shang Tsung kicking your feet apart, opening your legs for him, forcing you to take the buzzing sensation, the numbing—tingling—hot feeling builds up, coiling tightly at the pit of your stomach.

★ “Please—I can’t take anymore!” You huff out, but Shang Tsung simply hums in delight, sliding down to his knees as he bumps up the intensity of the bullet, watching you squirm and writhe in his hands, he looks up at you through his lashes, those devious eyes glinting in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

★ “I assure you, darling, you can.” He presses a small peck to your inner thigh, keeping your legs spread for him as he peppers more kisses along your skin.

★ Shang Tsung is a man who gains pleasure from having power and control over others. But especially when he has power over you in bed. Pinning your hands above your head, hiking a knee over his shoulder, shoving your face into the sheets—his actions are usually dominant. (Though pookie is for sure a switch—like he don’t mind getting fucked—but he’s still in charge either way. You know?)

★ “Don’t think for even a moment you have the upper hannnh~” he sputters with his hands tied above him as you grind on top of him, stirring his cock around your insides with a coy little smile. “Of course not, Master”

★ Luxurious BDSM, and by that we mean he fancies extravagant sex swings, bounding you in the finest of silks and fabrics. (No rope burn here—he likes to keep his treasure in pristine condition.) get used to mulberry silk blindfolds. A new color and design for every encounter because a special occasion such as making love with you deserves an equally lovely gift.

★ Breeding Kink. He likes to claim what’s his, and what’s the most personal, intimate, invasive way to do so? To fill you up with his cum until you’re the perfect cream filled dessert, of course.

★ it’s just—the thought of you being filled by him and only him? The idea of planting his seed into your garden? Makes him more than reel. It makes him insatiable. Not that you mind. “That’s it, love, you’ll be sure to take nicely…”

★ Pulling out to just the tip, teasing your clit just before he slams right back into you, hilting with an audible grunt—over and over again and again—until you’re a fucked out mess, thighs quivering and dripping with his essence.

★ “Take nicely…and take all of it, pet.” He warns seductively, scooping whatever dared spill from between your thighs back inside, adding a third finger for good measure, pushing into you deeper, with slowed, controlled movements, making your back arch as you clench around the invasive digits.

★ He may be a selfish man, but once he fucks you up and down the block, he’s always sure you’re comfortable after the fact. Clean sheets, pillows, fresh pajamas, a tray of elegant finger foods displayed before you with your favorite drink in arms reach.

★ “I do not say this lightly, but you have undoubtedly become my greatest weakness…” He’ll croon with a soft smile, caressing your jawline before brushing your hair and putting it in a protective style. (Or he’ll simply give you a scalp massage) praising you on how well you took him as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head, cradling you against his chest.

[blowndrip]

A DAY WITH YOU

fluff 💭

pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

summary: When Kylian has a day off, all he wants is to be with you. From lazy mornings to stolen kisses, this is a day filled with love, and laughter.

A/N: soft kylian one-shot fluff. Enjoy ☺️

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. I stir awake, feeling the warmth of Kylian’s arms wrapped securely around me. His breathing is steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that’s become so familiar, so comforting. I tilt my head slightly to look at him, his face relaxed in sleep, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks. Even like this, he looks effortlessly perfect.

I don’t want to move, not when he’s holding me like this, but as if sensing I’m awake, his arms tighten around me. His voice, still rough with sleep, breaks the silence.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead.

“Morning,” I whisper back, a smile tugging at my lips.

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His hair is messy, his eyes still half-closed, but the way he’s looking at me makes my heart skip a beat. There’s something so tender in his gaze, something that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world that matters to him right now.

“Sleep well?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

“Always, when I’m with you,” I reply, my cheeks heating up at the honesty in my words.

He grins, that boyish, heart-stopping grin that always makes me weak in the knees. “Good,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

///

We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside feeling miles away. Eventually, Kylian sits up, stretching lazily before turning to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you feel like doing today?” he asks, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm.

“Honestly?” I say, smiling up at him. “I just want to stay here with you. No plans, no distractions. Just us.”

His smile softens, and he leans down to kiss me again, this time longer, sweeter. “I like that plan,” he murmurs against my lips.

///

We spend the morning in bed, talking and laughing about nothing and everything. Kylian tells me stories about his teammates, his voice animated as he mimics their expressions and gestures. I can’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room and making his eyes light up with pride.

At one point, he grabs his phone and starts playing some of his favorite music, the soft melodies blending perfectly with the warmth of the room. He pulls me to my feet, his hands resting on my waist as we sway gently to the rhythm.

“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “you’re not a bad dancer.”

I laugh, resting my head against his chest. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”

He hums in response, his fingers tracing circles on my back. “Only for you,” he says, his tone softer now. “I’d do anything for you.”

///

Later, we move to the couch, a blanket draped over us as we watch a movie. Or at least, we try to. Kylian spends more time watching me than the screen, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm.

“You’re not even paying attention,” I say, glancing at him.

“I am,” he insists, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m just… distracted.”

“By what?”

“You,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I feel my cheeks flush, but before I can respond, he’s pulling me closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and full of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

///

That night, as we lie in bed, his arms around me, I feel a sense of peace I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. His breathing is steady, his heartbeat a soothing rhythm against my back.

“y/n?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” he says, his words soft but sure.

I turn in his arms, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “I love you too,” I reply, my voice just as quiet but just as certain.

He smiles, pulling me closer, and I know that no matter what happens, as long as I have him, I’ll always have this. This warmth, this love, this feeling of being exactly where I’m meant to be.

[oxycontin-captain]

.... Where the fuck did it go?!

Odessa looked around, everywhere it could possibly be, while keeping her distance. She could hear the angered screaming no matter where she went, and though she tried to avoid it, it always felt like it was one step behind her.

She had searched the entirety of Medical, the lounge, and the front section of the cargo hold with no luck. She'd even searched the cockpit once all the screaming died down. She didn't like looking at the bodies in the rooms, couldn't stand knowing she could have done something more.

She couldn't make eye contact with Jimmy, for a number of reasons.

As she emerged from the cockpit and started to make her way towards the Utility room, she heard a sound that made her freeze. Her blood ran cold. A gunshot.

So that's where it went.

Whoever held it, Odessa didn't want to be around when they emerged. Given how little space was in Utility, she could only assume the shot was lethal.

She took off running, blowing past the Utility door and beelining for the cargo bay. Only three people left alive, and she was one of them- the second, unable to do anything to help or hurt.

Finding out who would emerge from that room was not on Odessa's list of tasks.

- @autumn-joyce ☆

Two shots. That was all it took to end the former intern—one a warning, the other final. Yet Curly still felt those young eyes searing into him, unblinking, a silent specter of judgment. Whispering. Accusing. Even if they weren’t… they probably were. The gaze wouldn’t let go, like a weight pressing down on his chest. Gritting his teeth, Curly shoved him away, his electric blue eyes blazing and raw, dry from what felt like hours without a single blink.

But Daisuke didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. What mattered was Jimmy—keeping him safe. As long as Jimmy was safe, Curly was a good captain. He had to be.

With trembling fingers, Curly reloaded.

He was a good captain. He was a good captain.

The medbay was empty. Except for Swansea’s body sprawled lifeless on the floor. The sight ripped the air from Curly’s lungs. His hands tightened around the gun until his knuckles whitened. The therapist. The fucking therapist.

He moved quickly, his breath ragged, every step making his hands shake harder. The utility room—empty. The cockpit—empty. He was running out of places, and time.

Finally, he reached the cargo bay. Darkness and silence greeted him, the vastness amplifying every desperate thud of his heartbeat.

“Doctor,” he called out, his voice raw and edged with desperation. “I know you’re in here. Give me Jimmy.”

[whatwouldeddiedo]

anyway i’ve never really been a fan of the whole narrative device (or real life opinion i guess) where broken, traumatized people who make mistakes, even bad ones, deserve to be alone until they fix themselves. broken people are still people but somehow we as a society have decided people need to be fixed before they can be loved and it’s fucking weird. eddie has to lose his son because why???? because he literally does not deserve his son until he fixes himself from years and years of various compounded traumas and repression.

like yes irl chris would deserve autonomy but this isn’t real life and fictional characters don’t HAVE autonomy because they’re being written by someone else to tell a story and weave a narrative and this particular one makes me feel a certain way! funny how that works!!!!!

[lovaboy]

do you ever think like. “oh well maybe next time!” but about your entire life

[haedgaf]

.

[gothsuguru]

you know what

[what-even-is-sleep]

Craziest advertising flaw I’ve seen in my life is: it’s impossible to look up “spider catcher” or even “spider catcher for arachnophobes” without EVERY. SINGLE. PRODUCT. having a blown up picture of a spider in it.

[spencereid]

when you’ve been abused it’s all very heehee haha funny business “that was in my past! it’s not something to concern myself with now!” until it is in fact something that affects me and my perspective on the world now

[buck-yyyy]

local guy is being gay at 3am because they can’t sleep :(

[imogenkol]

Pray 4 me 🥲

[foxgloveinspace]

Hulloooo! I just restarted my island last week! It's my personal nightmare currently but it'll get there. How have you been?

I’ve been pretty good! This weeks been a bit of a time cause I had cold that just completely zapped all my energy, but other then that, I’ve been doin pretty ok. Nothing to stressful or crazy and nothing too like.. exciting to talk about I guess, lol.

Hmmm, I think the most exciting thing that has happened is that I drove home from ‘the big city’ and I even drove in it, so like…. That was a bit crazy! Slowly getting there on the driving thing lmao.

I’m both really excited about starting over my ac island and like. Nervous lmao. I never really got very far in decorating it tho, so I’m looking forward to a completely fresh slate with it!

How about you? Anything cool, or just acnh (nothing wrong with that if it’s the answer tho 🥰).