#( in this house we dont proofread )

[wildmoonatic]

eating up ur captain design............ /pos

can i ask how pico and captain met in your au (i think its an au anyway)?

very canon adjacent, but it's an au, yeah. my friend and i's funky little universe just to the left of canon where we take things too seriously, you feel me

short version: they happened to meet at a cop shop while pico was waiting for (yet another) police interrogation, weeks to a month after the events of pico's school. john took an interest in pico and offered, mostly as a joke, to teach pico how to handle a gun properly. what was supposed to be a one-off lesson for a quick bit of entertainment turned into regular practice sessions and accidental (but immediate) emotional attachment from both parties. whoops!

and if you'll indulge me, here's the long version, because it's been brewing in my brain recently and i guess my hand slipped

(WARNING: descriptions of and vague flashbacks to the events of pico's school)

💚💚💚💚💚

The police station was usually quiet at this time of day. Idle tapping of fingers against a keyboard, muffled sounds of cars passing outside or of people talking in another room, none obtrusive enough to disturb the thoughts swirling in his head.

Now though, he was entirely preoccupied by annoyance.

Shut up. Why are you so loud? If you don't like pigs, why did you even come in here?

Pico had seen the strange man in black from the corner of his eye, swaggering in like he owned the place, only to start chatting to the receptionist with all the warm familiarity of two former classmates who never really liked each other very much. Derisive whispers in Pico's head grew louder in concert with his rising stress, adding to the noise, birthing a cacophony he couldn't escape from.

The man went quiet, and for a brief moment, Pico was sure he felt eyes on him. His own gaze stayed firmly on his sneakers.

The receptionist finally piped up with something other than a disinterested hum. "That's, uh, that Pico kid. Pico Fulp?"

"Ohh, so you're the kid who shot up his school."

Pico's head snapped up.

In an instant, his vision was dyed red, blood running so hot it threatened to burn him up from the inside. He didn't know when he got to his feet, but he was already taking steps toward the man.

"It wasn't me!" he snarled, words bubbling up and bursting out before he could stop them. "It wasn't! Watch your fucking mouth or I'll break your jaw, you stupid—"

"I got it, kid, calm down," the man talked him down, in a far more stern tone than Pico had been ready for, stopping him in his tracks. Matter-of-factly, he added: "I don't care how tough you are, you've got another thing coming if you think you can break any bone in my body."

Pico grit his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

The white-hot fire of rage burnt out almost as quickly as it ignited, his little body only growing colder as he actually looked at the man standing before him, red giving way to black and white.

Tall and broad-shouldered, wearing sunglasses so dark it was almost impossible to see the inscrutable eyes behind them. He was uniformed — the army, not the police. Which rank was the three stripes for? Was the 'Captain' on the tag his rank, or his name?

Pico dared to speak up again. "It wasn't me," he repeated, far softer than before.

Captain turned bodily to face him. "I heard you the first time. So, what did you actually do?"

He looked away again, wringing his freshly scarred hands. "I... I stopped it, sir. I killed the shooters."

The slight movement of Captain's eyebrows snared the corner of Pico's vision. "Really now?"

"I... I found a big gun in the janitor's closet, they must've stashed it in there," the words spilled forth, as if he were back in that vile interrogation room already. "So I took it, and I shot them. All of them. There were four, a-and I didn't even know what I was doing, I was scared out of my mind, I'd never held a gun before in my life, I don't know how I—"

"You've never used a gun, but you still managed to take down four armed threats all by yourself?" There was a note of interest in Captain's voice, despite him crossing his arms.

Pico swallowed thickly.

"Please leave me alone!"

"I was told to just scare you! I wasn't gonna kill you!"

"...Two of them weren't moving, sir. I'd disarmed them, and they were afraid..."

Captain hummed. "Right. And the other two?"

No answer. Memories of callous men in blue giving him withering looks or laughing in his face when he told the truth kept his jaw clamped shut.

Captain lifted his head, looking around the otherwise empty room. "Where are your parents?"

A half-hearted shrug. "They don't want anything to do with me right now, sir."

They never did in the first place.

The soldier's thick eyebrows furrowed, but for the life of him, Pico wasn't sure what it meant. The man was as easy to read as a book with all its pages glued together. That, or he was just illiterate.

"I probably only lived because we were all just kids who barely knew what we were doing," Pico found himself saying, as if he hadn't also slaughtered a giant alien that day — Cassandra had been young and inexperienced in her own way, too. "If something like that happened again, I… I dunno."

Captain said nothing, just staring down at him, seeming thoughtful.

Silence fell over the room for a long moment, disturbed faintly by the nasty voices Pico had learned only he could hear. When the man's voice broke through the murmurs again, it hardly sounded any kinder.

"Look, if I were you, I'd stop pissing myself and go get some actual experience under my belt."

"But—"

He wasn't done. "You know where the gun range is, right? The one five minutes north of here? Meet me there at thirteen-hundred tomorrow. Even a minute late and the offer expires, got it?"

…What?

Pico lifted his gaze to meet Captain's, incredulous. "You mean... But, why would you help me?"

It was Captain's turn to offer a lazy shrug. "I'm bored outta my skull, and this is the most entertainment I've gotten in months."

He said that, but he didn't look very amused. Besides, a soldier like him surely didn't have time to waste on such petty entertainment as watching a child grappling with fear. Pico tried scrutinizing the man's face for a moment longer, unsure what he was even searching for, but quickly found himself at a loss.

The easy answer was that it was a genuine offer to help, to teach him how to properly handle a firearm and put that aspect of his trepidation to rest. Pico wasn't sure if he believed that, but for some reason, he really hoped it was true. That would mean that Captain saw something in him, something more than the unfortunate kid and murderer that the other adults saw, something worth taking a chance on.

Nice. This man, a total stranger, was being nice.

When was the last time anyone said something nice to him?

(Weeks ago, in a sterile hospital room, two hands gently clasping one of his own, their owner smiling in spite of the anxiety behind those pretty black eyes, the sweetest voice Pico had ever heard telling him over and over how everything was going to be okay—)

Pico shook his head, as if he could physically clear the memory away.

He's gone now. Stop thinking about him.

By the time Pico dragged himself back to the present, Captain was already on the way out, muttering something about the stench of hogs. Pico watched him walk away, until he disappeared from view.

"Prick," the receptionist muttered, returning their attention to their computer.

With little else to do, Pico returned to his seat. His own thoughts quickly took center stage as usual, but they were different now, looking tentatively to the future, rather than the bloody memories that tugged insistently at his back.

It had been a while since he had something to look forward to.

[tokkiwrites]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After breaking up with your boyfriend of four years, you’re left heartbroken and desperate to leave it all behind. But as fate would have it, just as you’re about to walk out the door of his house, you run into his fatherㅡ the man who’s always lingered at the edges of your mind. the next sensible thing to do is fuck him.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: pwp, bf's dad joel miller x f! reader, short description of toxic rs, fight scene, afab reader, i dont know if this is categorized as cheating :p , age gap, fingering f receiving, joel has a huge one but we alr know!, dirty talk, pet names, p in v unprotected, creampie, slight slapping and hairpulling.

✿ 🪽 𓈒 ﹫𝐭𝐨��𝐤𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 ..＼ ♰ i have been neglecting you cute freaks, but i am here to feed you. behold! boyfriend's dad joel miller smut! around 2.6k words, so it's pretty short, but i hope you love it. not proofread!!!!! okay baiiii 😎🫶🏻

The fight tears through the house like a hurricane, each word leaving wounds too deep. "You never listen to me!" you yell, your voice raw and trembling. Your chest aches, your throat burns, but the word vomit won’t stop pouring out. "Four years, and it’s like I’m shouting into a void! Do you even care about us?"

"Do you even fucking hear yourself?" he fires back, pacing the room like he can’t bear to stand still. "God, all you do is pick fights! You always need something to be wrong. What the actual fuck?"

"Because something is wrong!" Your voice cracks, and the tears come faster now, hot and humiliating. You hate how small you feel, how desperately you want him to care. "I’ve been fighting for this, for you, and all you do is act like it’s a burden!" He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Maybe it is. Maybe you are." The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your breath catches, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly still. You don’t want to cry anymore, but the tears fall anyway, blurring your vision as you step back. "Fine," you whisper, your voice trembling. "If that’s how you feel, then we’re done. I’m done." He freezes, his expression shifting to something almost regretful— but not enough to stop him. "Fuck this." He grabs his keys from the counter and storms out without another word. The door slams behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet house.

For a moment, you just stand there, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you try to hold in the sobs threatening to break free. The silence feels suffocating, pressing in on you from every angle. You can’t stay here. You need to leave.

You grab your bag and wipe your face as best you can, hands still shaking. You tell yourself you’re fine, that the fresh air will help. But as you turn the corner into the foyer, you collide with something solid— someone solid. "Whoa there," a low voice drawls, steadying you with hands firm and sure. Your heart stutters as you look up and see Joel, your now ex-boyfriend's father.

Your breath catches in your throat. His hand is on your arm, warm and grounding, as his dark eyes search your face. His presence is like a balm, so different from the storm you just walked out of. He’s all quiet strength and rugged edges, his salt-and-pepper beard only making him look more like someone carved out of the earth itself. "Hey, sweet girl," he says, his tone warm and laced with that familiar twang. "What’s got you all worked up? You alright?" The sound of his voice is enough to break you all over again. You shake your head, the tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. You try to answer, but your words falter. All you can do is nod, though you know you’re far from alright. Not when his thumb is brushing lightly over your flesh, not when his scent— warm, woodsy, familiar— makes your knees fall weak. You can’t look at him, can’t look at the steadiness in his eyes or the way his hands ground you when you feel like you’re falling apart.

"Hey now," he says softly, pulling you into a hug before you can protest. His arms wrap around you, strong and safe, and for the first time all night, you don’t feel like you’re about to shatter. "C’mere, sweet thing. You gotta talk to me, mkay? What happened?" You press your face into his chest, breathing in hus smell that makes you feel like you’re home, even though you know you shouldn’t.

It’s absurd, really. You’ve always known he was handsome, but standing this close, it hits you differently. You’ve always noticed him in ways you shouldn’t, caught yourself glancing too long, wondering too much. And now, with tears still wet on your cheeks and your heart in pieces, he feels like the only steady thing left in the world.

"It’s over," you mumble against his shirt, your voice muffled but thick with emotion. "I broke it off with him. For r-real this time..." Joel pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands settling on your shoulders as his brow furrows. "You and him?" he asks gently, but you could tell he wasn't quite sure in your answer. "You sure ‘bout that?"

"Y-yeah..." You nod, your throat tight. "So you don’t have to... act nice anymore. You don’t have to pretend like you like m-me or care or whatever. It’s done now..." His expression shifts, confusion flickering across his face before something warmer takes its place. His lips part slightly as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

"Sweetheart," he says, his voice dipping lower, softer, like a secret meant just for you. "What the hell gave you the idea I don’t like you?" You blink up at him, stunned. "I just—"

"Little lady," he interrupts, leaning closer, his voice growing rougher, "it’s damn near impossible not to like you." Your breath catches as his thumb brushes over your cheek, his stare unflinching, as he examines your tear-stained face. There’s something in his eyes you’ve never noticed before—something unguarded, like he’s been holding it back for years. "Sweet thing like you," he murmurs, his lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. "Anyone with half a brain’d like you. But me? Hell, darlin’. I’ve liked you since the day I met you."

You step back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze fully, searching his face for any hint of pity, of kindness given out of obligation. "You don’t need to lie to me," you say, voice trembling. It feels like your heart is spilling out of you, breaking open right here in front of him. "Not just to make me feel better..."

Joel’s brow furrows, his dark eyes softening, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. A thread holds stretched taut between you. He doesn’t drop his hands from your shoulders, doesn’t let you pull away any further. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like you’re the most important thing in the world right now, like he’s trying to figure out how to put the pieces of you back together.

"What reason would I have to lie to ya now that you ain't with my sorry ass boy?" His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it carries a shiver down your whole body. You swallow hard, shaking your head. "I don’t know. I just—" You stumble over your own tongue.

Joel exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes bore into yours. simmering, waiting to swallow you whole. "Darlin’," he murmurs, "Let me show you then." Before you can even think, he leans in.

The world falls away the moment his lips meet yours. It’s soft at first, hesitant, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him if this isn’t what you want. But when you don’t pull away and when you melt into him instead, your fingers clutching at his shirt, he deepens the kiss, large hands sliding from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer.

His lips are warm and sure, washing away any heartbreak you might've felt.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, his breaths mingling with your own. "Am I lyin'?" Your chest tightens, the tears welling up again, but this time they’re different. They’re not the tears of heartbreak—you’re not even sure what they are, only that they feel a little like hope.

"Mister Miller," you breathe, his name dancing on your puffy lips. He smiles, soft and a little sad, brushing a thumb along your cheek. "I got you, sweet girl. You just let me." and you crumble completely. with no hesitation, he picks you up, taking you to the nearest bedroom, where he closes the door behind.

it felt wrong. it was wrong. but the way he looked looming over, you got your head spinning in all the right ways. the bed pooled under you, sheets rustling as you watched joel discard part of his clothes. you nip at your lower lip, scooting your body upward to remove the pants you had on. in mere seconds, both of you are naked, gasping, and holding onto each other like nothing else mattered.

You finally get to see joel fully naked and you can't quite understand how a man his age looks the way he does, and how he's still single, given the package he's been blessed with. "you can stop starin' now. you wanna get me shy?" joel teases, his shaft now on full view for you to gawk at. you're taken by surprise when he so easily pulls you down towards him.

he trailed kisses down your chest like flowers fall from cherry trees in the spring, your body reacting in ways you didn’t know were possible. "Please hurry..." and he chuckles, maybe proud maybe amused to see you this desperate. "'m sorry, darlin'" You purr under his touch, wrapping around him like he's a lifeline. his lips crash against yours again, rough palm slipping into your wet panties. you gasp, the feeling so strange yet so familiar. he lets go of your lips, thick fingers working their way inside of you. Joels eyes meet yours, and he curls his digits, speed picking up. the sounds youㅡ your pussy made, were pure music to him, constant encouragement to go harder, faster, loving the way you looked crumbling onto his fingers. "got such a pretty pussy. Sure you ok with an old man ruin it for anyone else?" he asked it as if it was the least absurd thing he could say right now. you nod your head profusely. "atta girl. knew you were the obedient kind first time I saw ya."

"You gonna come?" Almost mocking you, but you could bot form the proper words. You just looked deep into his glinting eyes as your hand made its way to his hardened crotch. "P-pleasee..." Joel almost loses himself, but he's steady with his movements. "Wanna come on my cock, hm? is that what you beggin' for?" your folds drip and clench around him deliciously, you don't want it to end. and when you're almost there... he stops. you whine in protest but you're quickly put back in your place with a firm tug at your hair. "You take what I give you, girl. Now ass up." you comply. in a second, your back is facing him, red cheeks now hidden into his pillow. you try to balance yourself up with one arm, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Spread 'em." And you do just that, pulling at your flesh. like an auction. only it's you presenting your cunt for fucking. "Fuck, look at that..." he tuts, gathering some of your juices on his pulsing tip, dragging it up and down your puffy lips. "Pretty girl. She cryin' for me, baby?" a string of fain 'yesyesyes' reaches his ear. hes quiet for a bit but the moment he pushes the tip inside you feel your knees buckle, all the strength you had left into your arms fluttering away. you fall face first into the mattres under you as joel pushes down your lower back. it hurts, but the pain is delicious. your moans feel the room, the occasional slap to your ass interrupting them. Joel is strong, fast and brutal, leaving you no room to breathe, fucking so deep into you you're sure he's way past your bellybutton. "T-takin' it so well, pretty girl, so well.." your skin burns where joel touched it, whole head fuzzy and empty. "pleasepleaseplease" as the whole bed shakes and strums to his movements.

your back arches as waves of pleasure break over your body like water on a shore. your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, baby, take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each timeㅡ your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made. "been dreamin' about havin' you like this, baby. look at herㅡ" joel throws his head back, delivering a harsh thrust, the pain quickly melding into pleasure. "gonna come, hm?" he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." You don't know if you're crying because it feels too good or because of how long you've waited for this, no matter how unforgiving this could be.

eyes shot open when he roughly yanks your hair, your skin slapping on his being to only sound you can faintly make out in your dazed state. you let your whole body go, tongue lulled out as he takes out on you anything he might've been feeling. you were at his mercy, your moans irrefutable. your stomach flips and churns as that familiar feeling pools again in your lower tummy, and you were chasing it, crying. from what, you didn't quite know. maybe because you've never been fucked this good or maybe because it'll be over too soon.

the room was stuffy. "o-oh myㅡ god!" You yelp when joels speed picks up, shocked that he can go that fast, considering you've heard him multiple times complaining about his bad back. "shitㅡ i gotta come, baby. you gonna let me do it in ya? huh?" You nod your head so, squeezing around him like a ring, and he rewards you with a slap to your ass. "fuckin' slut." he laughs through breathy moans. you're holding on for dear life, reaching for anything your fingers can grasp at this moment. you're sure the neighbors are having a blast seeing the whole house shake. "that's it, girl. take itㅡ c'mon..." with a few more pumps his hips come to a halt, whole body trembling as he comes ropes inside of you. you let go, bliss washing over you, the ringing in your ears covering the soft curses escaping Joel's lips. steadying himself, he pulls out, voice cracking as he speaks again. "fuuck... baby, look at her." he smiles crooked, watching intently as his come drips out of you, cascading down to your thighs. you lick your lips, looking back and right up at him whilst spreading your legs wider.

"Don't do that. think I don't have it in me to fuck you again?"

you tease, "i don't know. do you?" and he laughs, pushing inside of you again, watching as your face contorts in pleasure. "Careful, girl."

you wonder when your boyfriendㅡ i mean exㅡ will come back home.

[mayanneaa]

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

[mojifushiguro]

unforgettable ! e.yeager & a.arlert

"she left her man at home... she don't love him no more..." eren x black!fem reader x armin

warnings: smut! mdni, toxic relationships, cursing, drinking, smoking, mentions of cheating, cheating, mentions of sexual acts, very mild praising, etc. NOT PROOFREAD YET

part 1. next part here.

if you were asked to describe the relationship between you and eren, you would say it was perfect.

he's your boyfriend, he loves you, and you love him.

at least that's what you'd say.

to the naked eye, your relationship was just perfect. everyone knew you were together, everyone wants to take your spot, everyone wanted to take his spot.

no one ever did.

when it came down to eren, he knew how hard he could make things between you two, and some times he made things hard just for the fun of it, because he knew that later on, he could fuck the attitude right out of you.

but sometimes, you pissed eren off too, and he told his friends about his relationship problems just as you did.

you love eren and eren loves you. probably too much. because you take each others bullshit entirely too much.

"and the hoes, and the bitches, and the sluts that you constantly try to make me jealous with? fuck them hoes, eren. and fuck you." you frowned, sipping from your margarita as eren drove to the party hosted by none other than you guys' friend, jean.

you and erens relationship was the definition of a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"for the last fuckin time, I dont try to make you jealous wit no bitches. you just..." eren sat back in his seat with one hand on the steering wheel, hair pulled back into a messy half up half down.

"im just what?"

he only shook his head and stared out the window with an annoyed expression.

"you know I love you, ion know why you think im cheating wit a bitch all the time." eren glanced at you with a slight frown.

"because that's all you do!" you threw your hands up, forgetting the margarita was in it, and accidentally throwing some of the drink on the window.

eren stopped at the red light and took his hand off the wheel, staring at you with a sigh. "baby, calm down."

"you calm down."

"I promise you im calm."

you watched at the drink slowly rolled down the window, sipping the rest out of your bottle. "you make me sick."

eren pressed his lips together for a second before turning on the road where jeans house was. "right."

he put the car in park and turned it off, exhaling. "go in, I can clean that shit up." he pointed to the window on your side of his car. you didn't get out and you put the drink in the cup holder, crossing your arms.

"I just wanna hear the truth. she texted me saying you was at her house last night. funny, because last night you told me you went out to go deal."

"and I did." eren pat his thighs. "what else you want from me?"

"I need you to tell the truth."

eren sighed and looked you in the eyes. "I went to deal, and I came back home. I told you that girl old news. she just jealous im wit you. that's it that's all." he gave you a quick kiss as you stared at him, wondering if you should believe him or not.

"okay." you mumbled, opening the now sticky car door and stepping out. you closed the door behind you and walked towards the entrance of the house, the loud beats of the music pulsing through your hands as you grabbed the door handle and opened the door.

this wasn't your first time going to a party of jean's, it was actually occasional that you'd come out. but when you did, you always went to the usual spot.

"y/nnnnn, long see no time!" ony held his arms out, giving you a big hug. "hey, I know." you laughed and poured yourself a drink from the kitchen table.

"girl, you aint been out in forever. we been waiting for you!" sasha smiled, holding her cup out for another drink. as you poured hers in, you smiled and nodded.

"life been life-ing" you rolled your eyes, and sasha knew exactly what you were talking about. she's the one you'd talk to the most about eren and the shit he did.

"y'know what? I say you drink his ass away, and get em off your mind tonight."

before you could even agree, you heard a loud "ayeeeee!" from the crowd of people.

rolling your eyes and sitting your cup down, you already knew eren had just walked in. as everyone cheered, for whatever reason, you were suddenly lifted off the ground and tossed over his shoulder.

eren covered your ass with his hand, because your outfit was already revealing enough as it is, and spun you around as everyone yelled your names.

"boy put me down!" you yelled over all the voices, making eren laugh and put you back on your feet.

he grabbed your waist and your cup, holding it up as everyone continued to scream and cheer, and took a big sip from it, kissing you right after.

he was really the favorite of everyone, no doubt, and you just shook your head, cant help but to smile and grab your drink and distance yourself from all the noise. because gosh, they were loud.

so you decided to go outside, rolling your eyes and fixing your skirt.

what a show off he was.

outside the house is where most guests smoked and got In the pool. you stood near the side of the house, checking your phone and pulling up your camera to fix your hair.

"y/n?"

hearing your name being called, you looked up to see none other than armin. "hey armin" you waved and smiled, giving him a quick side hug.

you and armin weren't really close, he was closer to eren than you if you were being completely honest. they were childhood friends, so their bond was tight from your perspective.

"you not wit eren tonight?" he asked placing his blunt between his lips and inhaling.

you put your phone in your skirt and sighed softly, shaking your head. "too much attention and commotion in there. and he pissed me off earlier." you said, turning your attention toward armin.

he wore a white tee with grey sweatpants, really simple since he wasnt the type to dress up for things.

he only hummed and pulled his blunt from his lips, letting the smoke out through his nose. he was probably more of a stoner than anyone else in the group.

"you looked like you was havin fun." he looked back at you.

in all realness, the only reason he made eye contact was to stop himself from looking at your body. but he kind of towered over you, so that was the last thing on your mind.

you looked at the ground. "that's how it seem, aint it?"

"yep."

you looked back at armin as he looked at the people jumping and running around the pool just a distance away from you two.

you saw as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and hit his blunt again. his eyes reflected nicely off the lights coming from around the house, and his hair blew with the warm summer wind.

"wanna hit?"

oh yes.

"hit what?" you continued to scan him before realizing he was passing you the blunt. "o-oh" you laughed a little, grabbing the blunt from his finger tips.

"I got lipgloss on, though." you looked back at him.

"ill live."

you shrugged and took a long puff, exhaling and leaning your back against the wall, just like armin did.

he looked at you, your hair, your face, your shoulders, and on down.

and fuck, he couldn't help but bite his lip.

"aye... why you let eren treat you like that?"

you passed him the blunt and took a sip from your cup. "like what?"

"like you dont matter or sum. like you not his girlfriend."

frowning a little, you looked at him. "he be telling you stuff? about our relationship?"

armin tilted his head side to side, "you know... from time to time. I just dont know what you let him treat you like shit." he mumbled, already knowing you'd have something to say to defend eren.

and that's what he hated the most.

if he was anybody else, you would've told him he didn't know anything about you and erens relationship, and to stop giving his opinion on it.

but he was erens best friend.

he probably knew more about eren than you did, and that's what you thought about the most in that small moment of trying to excuse his actions.

"I love him." was all you could say.

"don't mean you cant find better." armin looked back at you, right in your eyes.

it felt deeper than when eren looked you in the eyes. and you knew it was wrong to think about, let alone consider, but you knew eren was so damn bad for you, you couldn't help but think, 'I wanna fuck you so bad.'

and its like he could read your mind, because as soon as you thought it, armin's eyes trailed to your lips.

you dont know exactly how it happened, but after a few more drinks, and a couple more blunts, you were in the back of armins car, getting fucked like you never got fucked before.

"armin... fuck..." you moaned into his ear. armins pants and breaths turned you on even more.

and the way you gripped his dick? he was almost jealous that eren was hitting it every night.

armins grip on your hips remained as the wet sounds filled the car.

thank god for tinted windows.

"you're... its too big..." you whined, making armin look up at you, as you rode him. he didn't even respond, he just grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you down to kiss you, thrusting deeper with every moan that escaped your lips.

"its okay, you're a big girl. you can take it." armin whispered in your ear. "if you cant, 's gonna be harder. you don't want me to take control... do you?" armin spoke through grunts and soft moans,

you quickly shook your head 'no' and placed your hands on the driver and passenger seat to hold yourself up.

"ah... fuck!" you moaned, opening your eyes as you felt yourself slowly reaching your limit.

"come on, you got it." armin bit his lip whilst smiling.

as soon as he said that, you felt yourself start to shake, gripping him tighter than before.

armin threw his head back, raising you off of him and rubbing his you-soaked dick, cumming right on your "pretty pussy.." he whispered, licking his lips.

you caught your breath, watching his desperate face as he finished on you.

he reached over to grab tissues from the floor of the back seat, cleaning you up nicely and fixing your underwear.

as you both fixed yourself, you got off of him and sat beside him. you couldn't do anything but smile at the moment.

"this feels wrong."

armin clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows with a shrug. "well, it is. I just fucked my best friends girl."

you playfully hit his shoulder and laughed. "don't say that!"

armin laughed softly and cleared his throat.

"I guess you gotta go back to yo... boyfriend?"

you softly smiled and nodded.

armin looked at you with a sweet look and tilted his head. "one more kiss? for the road?"

you giggled, leaning over to give armin one more kiss on the cheek before turning to open the car door. "ill see you later, armin."

armin stared at you as you closed the door, before exhaling.

"definitely."

p2 out!

[bucketbueckers]

TIMELESS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: slight language, fluff w maybe a little angst (im beginning to realize the "angst" is probably just plot) but it's literally not that deep at all (this is a bucketbueckers fanfiction we all know there's a happy ending), AU, soulmates, author won't pretend to understand history, potential misuse of period-typical slang, historical inaccuracies (ask me if i care [spoiler: i dont!]), abuse of punctuation, light violence, poorly proofread

wc: 15.5k

synopsis: Even in a different life, you still would have been hers. OR – two (of the many) lives you've lived with Paige Bueckers, and the one you're living with her now.

notes: im not rly much of an au author but i figured i needed a lil bit of something different after FOTS beat my ass. i've been toying w this idea for a while now 😋 this fic is probably better in theory but i had sm fun writing it (and thinking about pilot!paige and knight!paige kinda drives me crazy) idk not too much yapping from me today but as always i hope y'all enjoy &&& happy munch madness, lets have some good vibes going into game day tmr 🫶

2025

It’s a warm, breezy Tuesday in Connecticut, one of your rare off days, and this is quite possibly the last place you’d expect yourself to be.

Standing before you is an old antique shop. It’s a block away from the apartment you share with your girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, and you pass it every day on your morning jog. It’s rustic, worn at the edges, but there’s something softer about its unassuming visage today. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re out a little later than usual – Paige had an afternoon practice compared to her typical morning ones, so the two of you had lounged in bed for a little longer, soaking in the time together.

Whatever the reason, there was something in the air that compelled you to stop by. So you do.

The sign that hangs over the door is rusted, hanging loosely from one tarnished chain, its words unrecognizable from how time has eroded it. A bell chimes happily as you push the door open. Immediately, you’re hit with the scent of aged paper, ink, and something else that is distinctly vintage. The walls are lined with various art pieces, antique furniture tucked neatly into the crevices of the shop with tan price tags attached. You’re wrought with a familiar sense of nostalgia; there’s something so incredibly touching about the fact that everything in this store had belonged to somebody once, had been something of value, something to take care of. Everything is still in perfect condition. It’s beautiful to know that after someone is long gone, there is still someone out there who will cherish their belongings and take care of them the same way they had.

You gaze around the shop, taking everything in, your steps slow and methodical. You were never a patient shopper, always seeking to get in and get out, but it feels as though the shop is trying to tell you something – trying to show you something. You wander, studying the art, the intricate carvings on aged furniture, until you make your way to the check-out counter. The clerk is absent, although there’s a cardboard box full of old pictures – a black and white photo of a bride, toddlers playing soccer, an elderly couple on a porch swing.

There’s something achingly familiar about them. It makes your heart swell, makes you wrack your brain to discern where you’ve seen these photos before. You sift through the rest, lingering on a few; there’s one of a couple laughing on the porch of what you assume to be their first house, a photo of two people embracing – one is wearing an aged military uniform, which makes your face soften, and the third is two teenagers holding hands, dressed fashionably. That one makes you smile as you take in the lovestruck expression on their faces.

Still, there’s something about the photos that give you pause. You pull out your phone, navigating to FaceTime, and you call the one number you know will pick up no matter what.

The line clicks through and Paige’s face fills your screen. She’s slightly out of breath, her face flushed from the exertion of practice, hair messy and sweat beading at her temples. Despite that, she grins, a sort of smile that’s reserved only for you. “Hey, baby,” she greets, her voice soft, which brings a smile to your face as well. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you say back. “Sorry, I know you’re at practice–”

“We finished early, but I always got time for you,” she promises. “You know that.”

Your smile widens. “Well, I was on my jog, but you know that antique shop in town?” Paige hums in affirmation. “Something told me to go in, so I did. Look at some of these photos I found.” You flip the FaceTime camera, positioning your phone over your collection of photos. Paige leans in a little closer to see, her brows drawing together in concentration.

“They feel…really familiar,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “Like I feel like I’ve seen them somewhere.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaim. “It’s so weird. It’s like I know these people.”

“Wait, go back to that one,” Paige requests. “The black and white one, military uniform.” Doing as instructed, you pull that one to the forefront of the stack, gazing at them expectantly. That’s when you truly take a closer look, recognizing the expressions on the couple’s faces, their facial features. Your breath hitches just as Paige says, “Why do they kinda look like–”

“Us,” you finish.

“Yeah,” Paige murmurs, a little awestruck. “I can’t explain it but like – I can feel it.”

You flip the photo around, your eyes catching on the date on the back, and the subsequent memory hits you like a truck.

1944

It’s a sweltering afternoon in May when your life changes.

Well, changes for the second time since 1941.

Three years ago, the United States declared war on Germany and the adjoining Axis powers following the attack on Pearl Harbor. It was a dramatic shift for the entire country, one that displaced just about every facet of life. Men were drafted, heading overseas to fight, leaving holes in the workforce. Although the reality was bleak and dire, you saw this as an opportunity – for independence, for some shred of equality, for freedom. With plenty of job openings as workers were joining the war effort, you landed a job at a shipyard along the coast.

It wasn’t easy. Far from it, actually. You worked long, uncomfortable hours, hardly fitting in time for a break. You, along with several other women, worked on building, repairing, and maintaining the ships that would be used to transport supplies or men overseas. For you, it was enough – the daily routine, the knowledge that you were contributing to something greater than yourself, that your efforts were making a difference. It was worth it.

You get off your shift sometime in the afternoon. You’ve been up since the early hours of the morning; now, you’re half-asleep, only going through the motions and letting pure muscle memory guide you down the busy streets. Something big is happening soon – you can feel it. You’ve noticed drastically more uniformed men on the streets, whispers of another draft; at this point, your suspicion is a matter of when and not if.

Barely aware of what’s in front of you, you turn the corner, colliding roughly with the person in front of you. They hardly move although you bounce backwards, knocked off balance by both your exhaustion and the fact that you’re so much smaller than the other person. You’re already bracing yourself to eat concrete, eyes shut tightly, when you realize you’re not toppling over; instead, there’s a pair of firm hands holding you by the arms, keeping you upright.

“You alright?”

Her voice is concerned, if a little gravelly, rough around the edges in a way that captures your attention immediately. You open your eyes, your breath hitching, because you’re sure this is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. The street is busy — everyone lost in their own little worlds moves right by you, but at this moment? It feels like time stops, like nothing exists except for you and the blonde woman before you. 

Her hair is pulled up in a tight, slick-back bun, the edges pressed and the golden waves reflecting in the early May sun. Her eyes are a deep blue, almost startling so, but there’s an evident kindness that softens the intensity. Her jaw is sharp, angular, her nose sloping elegantly despite the chisel, but what truly captures your attention is her stature — she’s the tallest woman you’ve ever seen, no less than six foot, and her broad shoulders fill out her khaki uniform service shirt. There’s an emblem pinned over her left breast, wing shaped in the aviator insignia. You’ve been staring for far too long already and the pilot is smiling like she’s caught you. Despite yourself, you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, your voice even, which makes the expression on her face soften. 

“The flyboys would never let me live it down if I ran you over,” she says coyly, her hands lingering just a second longer on your arms before she finally steadies you. Her touch makes you flustered. “Hurtin’ a girl like you is cause for a national emergency.”

You laugh, a tinkling, carefree sound that betrays the way your heart pounds — in a good way. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

With gentle hands, she pulls you under the awning of the storefront you’re standing next to — an antiquities shop, according to the sign, keeping you out of the way of the bustling crowd as she murmurs, “I call it like I see it.”

With a teasing smile, you glance up at her, enjoying the way she looms over you far too much. It’s not intimidating, her stature, but it does make you feel warm all over. She’s long, toned, and you can see the muscle hidden behind her uniform. Her khaki button up is tucked neatly into the waistband of her sage green trousers, the top missing a few clasped buttons to reveal the dog tags hanging from her neck. She looks so put together, handsome and beautiful all in one, and maybe it’s the solemnity of the world around you, but this moment in time feels so peaceful, so right. “Do you, now?” you ask. “And what exactly are you seeing, flygirl?”

The nickname makes her preen, flashing her teeth in a smile that could surely ruin you. “Well,” she begins, her eyes scanning your figure in a way that looks as though she’s in a gallery staring at art, and not actually standing in the middle of a crowded street and staring at a woman who has just gotten off a twelve hour shift, covered in motor oil. Her gaze doesn’t make you feel objectified – far from it, but you’re beginning to think that you enjoy her attention. “I see this pretty girl – gorgeous is more like it, but I ain’t never been good with words. Just actions.” Her lips quirk slightly, reaching out with her thumb to wipe away a smudge of grease off of your cheekbone. Your face flushes, which only makes her features brighten like the clouds parting for the sun. “I see honesty. Ambition.”

“You can tell that much about me just from one look?” you say, a little amused.

“I’d tell you a hell of a lot more if it meant seein’ you again,” she confesses.

You scan her features, not quite sure what you’re searching for – deception, maybe, but you don’t see it. All you see is genuinity, a certain brand of hope that you haven’t seen in anyone’s expression in the last few years. You don’t know anything about her other than the fact that she’s a pilot, an aviator, but a slow smile spreads across your face the more you consider her request.

In times like these, you need all the joy you can get, no matter how short it is. So you teasingly lean in, relishing in the way her body eclipses yours as she melts into you, but you stop her with a hand to the chest. You know she could easily push past it, but you appreciate the way her body goes rigid, like she’s letting you make the call. Her brow raises – a challenge, maybe? – but despite herself, her smile grows, too.

“I’m not that easy,” you whisper to her, satisfied when her breath hitches. You press against her gently and she leans back, acquiescing. “You’re gonna have to work for it if you wanna see me so bad.”

“I can do that,” she promises, nodding emphatically, which makes you laugh quietly – she’d seemed so confident, so composed; now, she just seems eager to impress, to listen to every word you say.

Content, you take a step back, flashing one last smile. “See you soon, flygirl,” you say, enjoying the smitten look on her face, until –

“I never got your name, yardbird!” Her voice carries over the thrum of the crowd.

When you pause, glancing back at her, she seems amused, if not a little hopeful to hear you answer. But again – you’re not that easy. “Find me again and I’ll tell you,” you call back, your promise reaching her ears. You watch as her smile grows; even from afar, you can make out the determination in her eyes, the clear message of challenge accepted.

You’re not surprised to see her again.

If anything, you were almost expecting it. Her eyes had held a promise, the vow that she’d rise to the challenge. She didn’t become a pilot by being unambitious – you were sure that it was the complete opposite of that, having to work twice as hard as her flyboy companions. Any surprise you hold is because of how soon you see her.

It’s the next day and you’re walking home from the shipyard again, taking that same path you’ve taken hundreds of times across the years. You’re guided by muscle memory, weaving around the slow walkers and finding natural gaps in the crowd. When you turn the corner, the pilot is standing under the awning of the antiquities shop again, her hair pinned up in the same, sleek bun, her uniform crisp and pressed. She’s glancing at her wristwatch and as soon as you round the corner, stepping onto the street, she looks up and meets your eyes immediately. A smug smile graces her features.

“Found you,” she calls out, pushing herself off of the wall with a boot to the brick. You roll your eyes, amused, and you meet her in the middle by the doorway.

“You memorizing my schedule?” you ask her.

She shrugs a coy shoulder. “I’m committed,” she declares. “Said you weren’t gonna make it easy for me, right?”

“So she does listen,” you muse.

“Every word.” You smile at her, and it’s then that you realize she’s hiding her hands behind her back. Recognizing your curiosity, she reveals her hands, her smile softening – she’s holding a singular red rose, a rich, dark red in color, and you shouldn’t be surprised, but you are. “Think this is enough to finally earn your name, yardbird?”

You hum, tapping your chin dramatically, which draws a laugh from the aviator. Conceding, you take the rose from outstretched hands, much to her relief. You introduce yourself, listening as she tests the pronunciation on her tongue, smiling at how nice it sounds rolling off her tongue. Then, she sticks out her hand for you to shake as she states, “Paige Bueckers, airforce service pilot.”

She walks you home after that, her hand gentle yet protective over the small of your back. Your conversation is full of laughter, teasing, and Paige flirting with you unashamedly; you like it more than you would ever admit to her, although you’re certain she knows. Despite the fact that this is only your second conversation, there’s something about Paige that gives her the uncanny ability to understand you – it’s like a connection that goes deeper than your accidental run in from yesterday, like she was born to know you and you were born to know her. It’s like you’ve known Paige Bueckers your entire life. It’s a new feeling, but certainly not an unwelcome one.

This quickly becomes your routine. You wake up early, spend your morning and the better part of the afternoon at the shipyard, then Paige walks you home. Getting to know her comes as easy as breathing and being with her is almost enough to make you forget about the chaos in the world. It’s like Paige is your perfect complement. She came into your life in the most unexpected way possible, but the more time you spend with her, the more nights you invite her over for dinner, the more you realize that you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some nights she stays over. Paige blends so seamlessly into your routine that you wonder how you were ever complete without her at your side constantly. In the mornings, she’ll brew your coffee – how she figured out exactly how you took it, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t complaining, make your breakfast, massage your hands (because they were always sore and calloused from working on the ships all day), and walk you to the shipyard every day. At some point in time, she graduated from having a hand on your back to tangling your fingers together, which is something you truly relished in.

Over the month, the two of you get closer. Sometimes you stay at her house, waking up early enough to iron her uniform just to make her day a little easier. Paige tells you that you don’t have to go out of your way to do that for her, but secretly, you like it when she’s still in the grips of sleep and she gets out of bed to wrap her arms around you, resting her chin on your shoulder and watching you smooth out every wrinkle from her shirt. She’s warm, and soft, and dare you say it, she’s yours, even though neither of you have truly discussed it yet. It’s not traditional – in fact, nothing about the two of you is traditional; until recently, it wasn’t normal for women to work, let alone fly airplanes, let alone be in relationships together, but it works because it’s you and Paige. It works because although you’ll never have the vocabulary to describe it, you know this isn’t the first time you’ve met Paige. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared sleepy mornings together. It’s not even the first time you’ve loved her. Whether you truly realized it or not, you and Paige were a story centuries in the making, spanning across several years, decades, lifetimes.

But in a world like this, not everything can be perfect. Your suspicions were right from the very beginning.

“I have to leave,” Paige whispers to you on one quiet, sunny afternoon. It’s June 1st, barely fourteen hours into the day when Paige breaks the news. You’d been working since dawn. When Paige picked you up from the shipyard, she’d been noticeably dim, not nearly as lively on the walk back. You pressed, but she was silent, so you’d hoped that she was just tired from training; then, she’d suggested the two of you go to her backyard to lay in the sun. You curled up next to her, your chin on her chest, smiling as she pointed out the different shapes in the clouds (“That one’s definitely a boat,” you’d said, finger directed at a blob in the sky, to which Paige had responded with, “Y’think so, yardbird?”)

You knew Paige was an aviator. An aircraft service pilot, to be exact. You knew that eventually, she would be called in to fulfill a duty. You just never thought it would come so soon.

“When?” you murmur, willing your voice not to crack. Your hand was resting over her stomach – you can feel how her breathing comes to her quicker, hear the way her heart pounds in her chest. She wants to leave just as much as you want her to, but she knows she’s bound by obligation.

“Tomorrow morning,” she responds. Your heart aches and she can only tighten her arm around your shoulders, her chin pressing into your temple. “I’m flyin’ out to England – all of the Allies will be there. We’ll get debriefed, then… I’m flying twenty men into Normandy to invade Europe. After that, I’ll be transporting supplies and cargo between our bases and the frontlines.”

“Paige,” you try, but the lump in your throat cuts you off.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, trying for a lighthearted tone, but you can hear that it’s weighing on her just as much as it’s weighing on you. “I’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t make me a promise you can’t keep,” you beg, which makes Paige deflate, unable to continue being strong. “There’s no guarantees–”

“I know–”

“And don’t be reckless, you hear–”

“Yardbird,” Paige stresses, her voice cracking on the syllables of her nickname for you; despite the anguish on her face, there’s a calm acceptance, a sort of determination that looks like a promise to return. She squeezes your shoulder, directing your attention to her face. Tears are pooling on her waterline and if there’s one thing that’s always true about Paige Bueckers, it’s that irritating, unmistakable confidence of hers; you can see it reflected in her eyes. She believes that she’s coming home after this mission. You know better than to get your hopes up. “I promise you–”

“Don’t–”

She interrupts you with a stern look, desperation clouding her features now. She needs you to hear this. “I promise I’ll come home to you,” she vows. Paige’s voice softens to a whisper, her eyes searching yours to make sure you’re listening. “I don’t care what it takes. As soon as my mission is complete, I’ll be flying the first plane out of Europe. You and me?” Paige trails off, squeezing your hand like it’s a lifeline. “We aren’t done here. I still have to make you mine.” You murmur her name, but she shakes her head, needing to finish her thought. “I still have to introduce you to my family – to Drew. There’s so much more we have to do together – that we are going to do together. Okay?”

You gaze at her for a few achingly long moments, trying to memorize the blue of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the way her hair is disheveled because she’s usually so put together and that thought alone makes fresh tears spring to your eyes. Before they can fall, she leans up, pressing her thumbs to your cheeks and her forehead to yours. “I’ll write you letters,” she promises. “Everyday.”

You breathe in deep, trying to remember her scent. You know that you still have the rest of the day with Paige, but it feels like she’s already overseas. Gathering yourself, you nod against her, trying to commit the way her skin feels on yours to memory. “Okay,” you repeat, giving in. Her fingers brush across your skin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. She’s scanning your features for any hint of a falsehood, but the only thing she sees is a quiet acceptance, the kind that comes when you know you can’t argue anymore or stop something from happening.

She offers you a gentle, wobbly smile, and it does lift your spirits some. If Paige can believe so ardently in something, then so can you. “I’ll be okay,” she says again.

“I know,” you confess, because deep down, you really do think she’ll come back to you. From the very first moment you crossed paths, you learned that Paige was not one to back down. Now, when her choices are coming home to you or not coming home at all, her decision is simple.

Nothing changes when she leaves. You work your shifts, mind obviously elsewhere, but with what you know about her deployment, you know that you can’t dwell on it too much. You have a heftier workload now, maintaining and fixing the ships, so you get lost in the routine.

The bright spot of your week is the first letter comes a few days after she leaves. Somehow, the worn paper smells like her, and you smile at the sign of her looping scrawl, the borderline chicken scratch handwriting. It makes you think of all of the times she’d leave you notes across your house, reminding you that you’re beautiful and that she’s thinking of you. The memory makes your chest ache, so you push it to the back of your mind.

June 3, 1944

To my yardbird,

I just landed in England. It’s very busy here. It’s beautiful, too, and I think you’d like it. I can see us walking down the cobblestone streets together, maybe sometime in the future when the vendors and stalls are in business again. I would probably say something annoying and you’d shake your head, amused and trying to hide your smile, but I would know.

How are you doing? How is the shipyard? The hibiscuses we planted in May? I want to hear everything.

When I sat down to write this, I thought the words would come easy to me. I spent my entire flight thinking of what I would say to you, what I would ask. I thought it would be easy to tell you how desperately I want you and how I count down the hours until I get to see you again. Maybe God’s honest truth is that these aren’t understandings that can be summarized in one single letter – or truths that can’t be summarized at all.

Do you ever think about how you can look up and see the same sky as me, the same stars? I’ve spent a lot of time in the air. I know the clouds like the back of my hand, the way they move, the way the wind currents will guide me home. I know more about the sky than I know of the earth. In my profession, it’s hard to stay grounded – literally and figuratively, but my time with you has reminded me that there is an importance in returning to the soil, spreading my roots, seeking out a future I previously thought I couldn’t afford. You’ve given me hope, a dream, a love.

On my flight to England, I looked to the west and I saw a star. It shone brighter than the rest, glimmering and sparkling despite the fading night. As I’m writing this, I’m staring at the very same star. It makes me feel as though we aren’t so far apart right now, that you could look up and see what I’m seeing. You and I, we’re still connected, two ends of a red string coated in something cosmic and everlasting. When I look to the sky, it’s like I’m looking at you.

I will be home soon. That is my one promise to you. Until then, I hope you’ll look to the sky and look for me, too.

Yours,

–P

You draft your response immediately and send it off with the mail carrier before evening. You don’t know when it will get to her or if she’ll have much time to write back, but before you go to bed that night, you step outside and direct your attention to the western sky. You spot the star she was referring to almost immediately, the way it twinkles against a dark canvas; despite the ache in your heart, looking at it makes you feel a little less alone.

June 7, 1944

To my flygirl,

You make England sound so peaceful. I’m sure it is made all the more beautiful a country by you being in it. I would love to visit with you, when the world is all right and it’s a warm, summer day. Even if we just explore the cities, you have a way of making each moment feel more significant. You turn the mundane into a memory. Wherever you go, you leave a trail of magic behind you, and I am endlessly blessed that God has put me on this earth with you if only so I could follow it.

I’m holding up. The days are long and the nights are short and I miss you more and more each day you’re gone. According to the radios, you flew into Normandy yesterday and the invasion began. I hope you stay safe. The shipyard is busy – we are sending out more and more ships everyday for cargo and for men. Even more come back for repairs. I rarely get a break as of late, although I know my job is an important one. The hibiscuses are healthy, but they bloomed a little brighter when you were here to care for them. I don’t know how you do it. It is as though these things know you – they know you’re gentle, and kind, and that you have this nourishing, uplifting factor about you. They know of your love as well as I do, of what it is like to be without it.

I find myself writing and then pausing. I have so many things I would like to say to you but this paper can only hold so many of my thoughts. I agree that one letter is not enough to express myself fully. However, I know not to worry. You are thoughtful in ways most people never think to be and you have always been talented in understanding me before I’ve been able to understand myself. There are many things you know but I do like saying them. I miss you – isn’t it funny how we always come back to this? I miss you in a way that makes my chest ache. I miss having you in bed next to me and I miss the way you sing in the mornings. I miss you because you are everything I didn’t know I needed and more than I ever thought I deserved.

Remembering that you are under the same sky as me makes me feel a little less alone. Remembering that you see the same stars, the same moon, the same sun reassures me you aren’t so far away. Remembering that you feel the same love reminds me that you’ll be home soon.

With love,

Your yardbird

Over the course of the next several weeks, you continue to work. You continue to gaze at the sky before bed, imagining Paige doing the same before she goes to sleep. You write to her and you read the letters she sends you. They always start the same – an affectionate “To my yardbird” that never fails to bring a smile to your face. She tells you about her days, never once mentioning the toils of the war, only the beauty of the nature around her in spite of the damages around it. She tells you about the other women airforce service pilots – the WASPs – in her platoon and their ineffable courage. Paige tells you about the ones vying to return home to their families, too, and their unshakable determination to make it home.

You reread all of her letters when the sun goes down. Each and every one of them, starting with the one dated from June 3 to her most recent one. At this point, you have all of her letters memorized from the penmanship to the content. You spend hours with your hands clasped as you utter your hopes, prayers, a constant wish for her to be safe.

The weeks tick by. There’s nothing of note on the radio. You get lost in the rhythm of working, of thinking about Paige, of writing letters to her and handing them off to the mail carrier with the same unwavering expression of hope. You remind yourself that you and Paige aren’t done here, and that she’ll be back soon.

Then, her letters slow down ever so slightly. The Allies are pushing for one more coordinated attack, she’d written to you. I’ll be in the air frequently.

All you could do was wait. And hope. And work.

So, you do.

Four more weeks pass by. In that time span, you only get one letter from Paige in the second week, then she’s silent for the next two.

You try to not let the worry ruin your life.

On August 25, the radio at the shipyard crackles to life, announcing, “The Allied advance has liberated France. The Germans are in full retreat.”

You felt as though you could breathe a little easier, but you were still sick without the knowledge of whether or not Paige was okay. You don’t hear anything for two days.

On August 27, you’re leaving work early, a rare happenstance. Given the relative silence of the last few days of the invasion, you and the other women were able to finish repairs fully on the current batch of ships you were working on and you were waiting to get the damaged ones back from overseas. With nothing else to do, you walk your worn path back home, letting pure exhaustion and muscle memory guide you home. You’re too tired to even think, but you do glance up at the antiquities shop as you pass by. It had become a habit over the last twelve weeks, bringing a smile to your face as you remember the day you and Paige had met.

But you stop in your tracks, letting the bustle of the crowd pass you by as you gawk. Part of you can’t believe it, half-tempted to rub your eyes, convinced you’re in the middle of a dream or that the sheer exhaustion of the past three months has finally caught up with you. All you can do is stare, until–

Paige Bueckers cocks one of her signature, amused smiles, her eyes relieved and fatigued all at the same time. Her hair lacks its usual gel, the edges unruly. Her uniform top is buttoned one lower than usual, exposing the undershirt she’s wearing, and the hem is barely tucked into the waistband of her trousers. She doesn’t look injured, just like she could use a really long nap, but the sight of her makes your heart leap out of your chest.

“You’re early today, yardbird,” she comments wryly, glancing down at her wristwatch. “You got a hot date?”

You drop your bag at your feet, coming into her personal space with three quick strides. Judging by her expression, it’s clear she wasn’t expecting this reaction from you, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you cup her cheeks, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss her. Paige melts into you completely, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against her with an overwhelming amount of relief. She sighs against you, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, but your hands tremble on her face as you taste the salt on her lips. You can’t believe that she’s here right now. After twelve weeks of aching, of hoping, of believing, she’s here. 

You break away from her when your lungs burn, needing to breathe. Despite the tears, she’s still smiling when she presses her forehead to yours, her eyelids slipping shut like she just needs to absorb the moment and breathe you in. You do the same, your hands sliding down to tangle in the fabric of her shirt. She’s firm, she’s warm, she’s alive and she’s in front of you and you have possibly everything you’ve ever wanted right here in front of you. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into her chest, your voice a little muffled, but Paige’s shoulders shake with laughter, dissolving all of the tension left in your body.

“I told you,” she murmurs, her chin pressing into your temple as she holds you close, “I’d come home to you.”

And if there’s one thing that’s true about Paige Bueckers, it’s that she doesn’t break a promise. Not this one, and certainly not the one she makes to you almost a year and a half later in her backyard when the two of you exchange private vows during a quiet, peaceful, summer afternoon, promising to love each other for the rest of your lives.

2025

As quickly as the memory comes to you, it disappears just as fast, leaving you in a daze. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’d just imagined it all or if that was real. Glancing back down at the photo in front of you, the two women embracing in the middle of a crowded street – one a flygirl, one a yardbird, their features so similar and their expressions so loving, you think that it had felt too real to be fake.

“Hey, you alright?” Paige’s voice echoes from your call, concern laced in her tone, and despite yourself, you can’t help but crack a smile because those were the very first words the aviator had said to you. Perhaps there was more truth to it than you thought.

“I’m okay,” you promise, peering down at the photos again. An idea hits you all at once. “You said you finished practice early, right?” Your girlfriend hums, clearly confused with where you were going with this. “How quickly can you get to this antique store?”

Paige doesn’t keep you waiting too long. She makes it to you in record time, the jingle of the bell above the door capturing your attention. You glance up, spotting her, and the two of you share matching smiles as she strides closer to press a kiss to your temple, squeezing your hip. “Alright,” she murmurs. “Lemme see these pictures.”

You hover silently next to her as she sifts through the pile of pictures you’d accumulated. She lingers on the black and white photo of the pilot and the shipyard worker – describing that photo as you and Paige still feels a little too weird, but you watch as her brows furrow, her eyes lighting up with something that looks like recognition. You don’t even have to ask to know that she’s feeling the exact same thing that you did.

“This is insane,” she mumbles under her breath, which makes you laugh a little, amused. Paige holds the photo gently in one of her hands as she looks through the others, finding one of two teenagers holding hands on their way to a dance, presumably, considering the way they’re dressed. They don’t look as similar to you and Paige as the first photo did, but it still brings back a sense of nostalgia that Paige picks up on, too. “You remember prom? Junior year at Hopkins?” your girlfriend asks, nudging you gently.

You resist rolling your eyes. “How could I not?” you say sarcastically. “Someone saran-wrapped the doors so tightly that the principal had to call the fire department just so we could get in.” Paige laughs. Affection blooms in your chest despite yourself, and you grin, too. “We made the best of it, didn’t we?” Paige hums in affirmation, brushing her fingers across the photo before you before picking up another one. It’s two people laughing on a porch. You can tell they’re lovers by their closeness. “Remember when I rented my first apartment and you helped me move in?”

Her lips curl into a fond smirk. By help you mean Paige stayed over every night for a week straight, delaying your unpacking and “breaking in the new crib,” whatever that meant. You’d enlisted her to help with your furniture, your decor, and building shelves, but you’d go to bed in her arms and wake up to all of your furniture in completely different spots. “Oh no,” Paige would whine, a terrible actress to this day. “Guess I gotta stay and help you fix this.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was intentionally waking up at night and “inconveniencing” you just so she could stay a little longer and annoy you, but you suppose the real kicker was she never really needed an excuse to be near you, anyway. You would have let her stay for the week even if it meant she didn’t fuck up the way your furniture was arranged.

“I still dunno why your furniture kept moving,” she muses, still committed to the bit. “You ever call maintenance? Or security or somethin’?”

You roll your eyes for real this time, pressing a little closer. She raises her arm to rest it over your shoulders. You pick up a photo of a 30’s bride, her veil long over her face. It wasn’t a secret that you wanted to marry Paige someday – the two of you had been together since high school and you both had discussed as much; now, she was entering her final March Madness tournament as a Husky. The two of you were so interwoven into the fabric of each other’s lives that you were sure you would be together until one of you took your last breath.

“You look pretty in white,” she comments off-handedly, like she’s slick, but you know better.

You grin. “You think so?” you ask coyly. She hums again, a smile of her own growing on her features the more she stares at the picture of the bride. “Well, I think you look pretty good in a suit, too.”

“Oh, little ole me?” she croons, faux shyness lacing her tone.

“You’re so annoying,” you say.

“You’ve loved me since we were fourteen,” she reminds you – as if you’d ever forget it. “You’re stuck with me at this point.”

The truth was, you’d be content to be stuck with her for the rest of your life. The other truth was that Paige’s ego was already so dangerously over-inflated that it’s days away from popping like a balloon with too much helium, so you couldn’t possibly admit that to her. The third truth was that Paige knows you love her, just as she loves you, so she didn’t need you to admit it to her, anyhow. The both of you were stuck with each other, not that either of you minded.

“Let’s get these?” you request, and Paige nods, scooping up your selected photos in her gentle hands.

But it still feels like you’re missing something. You have your photos, the memory of a life long passed – which reminds you; you and Paige will be having a lengthy conversation about that memory later today – but it feels as though you haven’t seen everything the universe clearly wants you to see. So you link hands with Paige, scanning the shop once more as you search for the missing piece.

It’s Paige who actually locates it after a few moments of walking. She glances at you meaningfully, guiding you down a row of bookshelves, eyes roaming over its contents like she knows exactly what she’s looking for. At the very end of the line, there’s an old, dusty, leatherbound book covered in cobwebs laying flat on an antique table, as though someone pulled it off the shelves to read and then forgot about it. Paige exhales like it was exactly what she was looking for.

She drops your hand to brush the back of her hand over the front cover, getting rid of the dust and the cobwebs, and then immediately sneezes. It makes you choke on a giggle, the mystery and the intrigue of the moment softened by Paige’s incessant allergies, and the tips of her ears flush red as you whisper a quiet, “Bless you.”

When the cover is clean, she wipes her hands on her shorts and opens the book carefully to the front page. You peer over her shoulder again. The penmanship is in neat cursive, the ink fading with time, but still legible enough for you to read. There’s a date in the top right corner reading 1543 September 9. Paige whistles lowly, holding the book a lot more gingerly now, which amuses you a little bit.

You look at the first line, reading, “Father procured me this journal to document my life and my emotions. He believes that it will help regulate me and, in quote, save me from this phase of rebellion lest I make a mockery of the crown. I am only eighteen. Surely, he must understand that the life of a princess is not one for me.”

Paige blinks once. “Well, that’s heavy.”

“Paige, she’s eighteen.”

“Technically, like…” your girlfriend pauses to do the math in her head, “...Four hundred and…eighty sum’.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself, and when you reach out to turn the page, you’re hit with another memory – only this time, you know that Paige is seeing it too.

1543

“Princess, your father is just trying to look out for you. He is just…a little misguided.”

You huff indignantly as you drag your brush through your hair. You truly do not mean to be this dramatic, but indignance just seems to be the main emotion that your father manages to evoke from you. Ever since you turned eighteen, the “of age” marker determining your eligibility to officially inherit the throne, the King – your father – has been nothing short of particular. Exacting. Expectant. If you’re not studying with your tutor, you’re listening in on his meetings, learning the ins and outs of how to run a country. You’re his only heir, so deep down, you understand why he demands so much from you. There’s a short time between now and when your father won’t be deemed fit to run a country. You’re just upset that being the princess means you can’t be you anymore.

There’s a certain degree of freedom you get used to growing up in the castle. You want for nothing – everything is provided for you, no question about it. You have the best education possible, learning from private tutors all over the world – math prodigies, language experts, philosophers. Everything you could possibly want is at the tip of your fingers. As of late, however, it seems that you may just be broken. 

You long to be outdoors, away from the castle and its stuffy, too large walls. You long to do things for enjoyment and not for obligation. You’re eighteen – you want to be with people your age, not the children of the entitled, pompous bureaucrats that your father rubs elbows with. You want to be you, not the Princess, not the heir to the throne, just you.

It seems there are just some luxuries that one cannot afford, not even monarchs with the world at their disposal.

“‘Misguided’ is one word for it,” you huff, trying to not catch too much of an attitude with your chambermaid, Carlotta. It is not her fault, not in the slightest, and she’s been there for you your entire life – even longer than your father has. “I do not want to be–”

Carlotta hushes you, a gentle, cautious hand resting over your shoulder. You clamp your mouth shut. “You must be careful, Princess,” she murmurs.

“There are eyes and ears everywhere,” you finish, your voice barely a whisper. “I know. I’m sorry.”

That was another thing you loathed about being a royal – the constant paranoia. It is a well-known fact that your father has enemies. Perhaps that is just a fact of life that comes with being king, a political figure, someone in charge of making decisions for millions of people. It is hard to be free when you’re tailed by your father’s most trusted knights and officers.

“It is all right,” Carlotta assures you. “Now come – you must be ready for the banquet.”

You nod, swallowing back your remark, and you allow Carlotta to help you into your gown.

The banquet goes as well as you were expecting. It’s loud, raucous, and full of minging, networking, and brown-nosing. You’re certain that you’ve never faked as many smiles or laughs as you have until today, but once it becomes socially acceptable, you sneak out the back door.

Or, as well as one can sneak when there’s a knight tasked with following your every move.

You glance over your shoulder. Just before the door slams shut, a tall figure in breathable armor slinks through the gap, following you at a respectable pace. However, there’s something that gives you pause.

As irritated as you are at the prospect of being tailed by your father’s appointed guards, you’ve made a habit of knowing who they are. Tristan is your usual suspect – he’s tall, lean, and his armor is recognizable. There’s a crest on his breastplate, signifying that he comes from a family of nobles, but this knight lacks the decorative chestpiece. Every other day, you’re then followed by Maximus. He is a little shorter than Tristan, although in place of a family crest, he has the traditional knight’s insignia – he doesn’t come from a family of nobles; rather, he’s an experienced knight who worked his way up through those ranks.

Whoever is wearing this suit of armor isn’t Tristan or Maximus, and you know that while your father makes a habit of annoying you, he wouldn’t reassign your patrols without telling you. Feeling your heart beat a little faster in your chest, you lengthen your strides, trying to get away from whoever is pursuing you without giving it away that you know they’re an enemy.

The issue with all of the country’s royals concentrated in one wing of the castle means that the large majority of the knights are assigned to that wing. That means there’s little protection through the back corridors. That means you need to find a way to get the knight off of your trail. There’s a variety of things you could be used for. A bargaining chip. An arranged marriage. Perhaps you’d just be killed entirely.

You hang a left, casting another glance over your shoulder. You don’t see the knight round the corner just yet, but you can hear his footsteps pick up speed. Realizing how dire your situation is now, you will your body into a run, thanking Carlotta for putting you in a pair of sandals instead of the heels your stylist had set out for you. The heavy clank of armor follows you down the winding halls as you breathlessly search for your exit.

To your right is a set of tall glass doors, leading into the palace gardens. Confident in being able to find somewhere to hide there, you push the doors open and run outside.

What you’re not expecting to find, however, is a tall blonde woman sparring in the dark. She spins on a dime, her sword lowering, but recognition flickers across her face once she realizes you’re the Princess. You briefly wonder if she’s a knight, too, or if she’s here to kill you, as well, but you throw all caution to the wind, deciding to trust the blue of her gaze. “Help me!” you exclaim, throwing yourself behind her just as the glass doors burst open and the turncoat knight barrels outside.

You realize, perhaps a little too late, that the blonde woman is not wearing armor. She’s dressed in a breathable navy and white tunic, the knight’s crest emblazoned across the chest, and a pair of worn boots. At the very least, she’s drastically more agile than her opponent (and taller, too, you note, although you remind yourself that there’s possibly a time and a place for those sorts of realizations). 

The armored knight draws his sword, a quiet acceptance in his body language like he knows he’ll have to go through the blonde knight to get to you, but she’s rigid, confident, rising to the challenge completely.

They collide in a flurry of sparks, loud groans, and the clang of metal against metal. The blonde, to her credit, doesn’t budge, but the force of their impact sends the armored knight stumbling. Using that to her advantage, she delivers a swift kick to his abdomen, which makes the knight fall to the ground completely. 

“Yield!” she barks, her blade against the soft part of his helmet.

He pauses, gazing up at her as if truly contemplating it, before his own leg jerks out, knocking her off balance. She grunts, dropping to one knee, and he uses her injury to kick her backwards as well. He digs his sword into the soil, using it to lift himself up. The knight spins his sword in his hand, remnants of dirt flying off of his blade, and he stalks towards her like a predator to his prey. All you can do is watch on in horror. 

You’re so focused on the other knight that you don’t notice her fingers digging into the dirt next to her until she comes up with a fistful of soil that she launches directly at his helmet. He recoils with a yelp, disoriented, and the blonde knight locates her sword, slashing out in a quick motion and catching the soft spot where his knee bends. He staggers again and she slams her hilt into his wrist, causing him to drop his sword. She grabs it immediately, dual wielding both blades, and the checkmate move comes when she kicks his injured leg. He falls to his knees and she crosses both of the swords under his neck again, chest heaving and sweat beading at her temple.

“Yield,” she commands. “I won’t ask again.”

He lifts his head ever so slightly, meeting your gaze across the garden. You stand your ground even though you’re rattled and you can feel your pulse in your fingertips. Barely eighteen and I’m already surviving assassination attempts, you think to yourself, Father would be proud. Then, he drops his head again, defeat in his posture. “...I yield.”

By the time he finishes his sentences, the garden doors burst open and more of your father’s nights enter the garden, brandishing their blades. They catch sight of the blonde knight, swords to your attacker’s neck, then settle their gaze on you, breathing heavily but not a hair out of place. “Arrest him,” one of the captains instructs, and another knight surges forward to deal with the attacker. “Secure the Princess. Alert the King immediately.”

The garden is a flurry of activity as the knights disperse. One group leaves as they drag away your attacker. Another group surrounds you as if forming a wall between you and any potential danger. Still, you can’t keep your eyes off of your savior, the blonde woman whose cheek is slightly smeared with blood. You’re not sure if it’s hers or his, but this isn’t a night you’re going to forget for a while – not because of the attempt on your life, but because of this knight’s bravery, her spur of the moment decision to put her life on the line for you, especially against an opponent with far more protection than her.

It’s nearly stupid. She’d behaved so recklessly, but it was her job. So why do you feel so drawn towards her?

Your father arrives with a security detail of his own. You’re not quite sure what you were expecting from him, but he gives you a cursory look over, nodding in approval when he sees that you’re okay, before he turns to his men. “Who allowed this to happen?” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to, but you think he’s scarier like this – the deadly sort of calm that only comes out when someone is truly pissed. “Who allowed a turncoat knight to nearly kill my daughter?”

His men are notably silent. Your father scoffs, shaking his head, and he turns on his heel, probably ready to storm out until he catches sight of the blonde knight, standing solemnly in the corner. “Who are you?”

Her voice doesn’t waver when she answers, not meeting your father’s eyes out of respect. “Sir Paige Bueckers, Your Majesty.”

He glances at her – armorless, then he glances at the rest of the knights gathered – uniformed. “Why are you here?”

Paige hesitates, looking up to meet your eyes, a silent plea for help. “She saved me, Father,” you answer for her, drawing your father’s attention back to you. She relaxes slightly, gratitude in her expression. “I noticed the knight following me wasn’t one of my usual handlers. So I ran out here to flee and found Sir Paige.” Your father looks at Paige again, studying her in a new light. His quiet contemplation could mean a lot of things. Then, surprising everyone, you say, “Father, I want her reassigned to my guard detail immediately.”

Your father considers this for a few moments longer, then he turns to the captain. “See to it,” he orders. The captain nods emphatically. And with that, your Father returns indoors, his security detail following. The rest of the knights follow until it’s just you and Paige, who stares at you with a mix of shock and curiosity.

You nod at her, softening. “Come. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Paige, unsurprisingly, is not a woman of many words. You don’t expect her to initiate any sort of conversation with you given your status, but she does look at you – a lot – mostly when she thinks that you’re not aware of it. There is nothing inherently inappropriate about her gaze. You can tell she’s curious. You can also tell that she knows she has a duty to do. Her gaze flickers on and off you to scan the hallways for any sort of potential danger and her hand hovers over the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist as if someone would jump at you both from the shadows.

Functionally, she hasn’t said a single word to you since you met her, yet you battle the urge to get to know her. You know that would never be allowed – a royal fraternizing with a knight. It breaches every code of conduct and tradition that you’ve been raised to recite by memory. Despite your knowledge, there seems to be a pull between you and the knight, one that you’re finding harder and harder to resist as you watch her brows tent in concentration, her eyes studying everything about her surroundings as you lead her to the medic.

When the two of you reach the infirmary, she doesn’t say much else, either, only nodding or shaking her head when the physician asks questions like “Does it hurt when I do this?” or “Do you feel any pain here?” You do watch as her face screws up, discomfort in her features, when the physician pokes and prods at her knee.

She’s fortunate, according to the physician, that it is only bruised and she should expect to recover quickly. Taking an armored boot to the knee when you’re wearing only a thin tunic is usually grounds for a fracture or a broken bone. Paige takes the diagnosis in stride, her eyes trailing after the physician as she leaves the infirmary to fetch some herbs from the greenhouse, and shamelessly, your eyes find the knight again. She doesn’t glance at you, but you can tell that she’d like to, so you break the silence to say, “You don’t need to be so formal with me.”

Her throat bobs as she argues, “I do.” Then, as if you’d forgotten, she reminds you, “You’re the princess. Treating you otherwise would be disrespectful.”

You cock a wry smile. “And would disobeying my wishes not also be disrespectful, Sir Paige?”

She pauses, not expecting that one, and finally, she glances up to meet your eyes. Her eyes are startlingly blue, alert despite the exhaustion and the lingering pain of her battle, but they’re kind. They’re soft in a way you would never expect from a hardened knight. They’re gentle when they appraise you, studying your features, and her features relax as if she’s looking at you – truly looking at you – for the first time. “I suppose it would be, Princess,” she agrees. “I apologize.”

Your smile softens, too. “Considering you saved my life today, perhaps we can call it even?” you suggest, trying for a joking tone, and you find that it’s well-received when she chuckles. “Thank you for that, by the way. I would not be here without your courage.”

“I was just doing my duty,” she murmurs humbly. “My only wish is for you to not have had to witness that.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” you say reflexively.

Paige glances at you again, her eyes lingering on your face before a slow smile curls on her lips. “I’m beginning to see that.”

You know she doesn’t intend to say that in any sort of way, but the warmth of her gaze, the approval in her eyes, and her words alone are enough to make your cheeks flush. It’s wrong – that much you’re sure of. You haven’t known the knight for very long, but there’s something so magnetic about her, like you’ve met her before, like you know you’ll be safe with her. This conversation feels like one you’ve had before. That thought doesn’t alarm you as much as it should. Paige just feels right.

Then, she raises her hand, rubbing her face, and she doesn’t realize that she’s reopened the small cut beneath her eye. “Oh,” you say, not nothing much of it as you reach out for a piece of gauze, “you’re bleeding.” Motioning to the wound and ignorant to the way Paige’s breath hitches, you ask, “May I?” She nods and you step between her parted legs, hovering over her as you gingerly reach out with the cotton, fingers light and delicate against her skin, cleaning away the blood. You and Paige are inches apart by now, and the sudden closeness makes your hand tremble, especially when your eyes flick up to meet Paige’s. The expression on her face is almost awestruck, reverent in a way that makes you forget about how dangerous this is. You don’t realize that you’ve planted your free hand on her shoulder, holding onto her to keep her from moving, nor do you realize how her hands grip the edges of the table, knuckles white like she knows it would be wrong to touch you, but the way her breath stutters makes it so obvious that she’s desperate to regardless.

Sobering up, you lean back, red tinging your cheeks as Paige exhales deeply. The physician returns to the infirmary at that time, grinding together herbs in a mortar and pestle and muttering to herself absently. You and Paige exchange a glance, the heat of the previous moment softening as you both put some space between each other, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve stumbled across something that you shouldn’t have – the chemistry between you and the knight. You’ve always been curious and daring by nature; you know yourself well enough to know that you’ll track down that spark and see where it goes, even if it means sweeping the ashes under the rug after it ignites into something you can’t quite stop.

For now, you have to play it smarter. All eyes are on you as you prepare to take the throne from your father, and the last thing you want to do is jeopardize Paige and her future, even if you’ve already done so by assigning her to your personal guard.

Beneath the professionalism, the practiced stoicism that you see right through, you recognize that very same spark reflected in Paige’s eyes – the curiosity, the determination, the willingness to press the match to the kindling if you’d so much as asked. You know this is risky, that this energy between you and Paige is something that will splinter the foundations of the life you’ve grown so accustomed to.

And the worst part of it?

You wouldn’t even mind if it did.

Paige assimilates seamlessly into your routine. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the knight, who adjusts to her new position with a startling quickness and efficiency. Given the recent attack on your life, your father arranged to have her moved to a room only a door down from yours in the Royal Wing of the palace, believing that having her close would allow her to protect you better. She becomes your shadow of sorts, although you had to put your foot down early on in your new…partnership, and force her to walk side by side with you instead of the infuriating ten or so feet away.

“Being close to me would keep me safer, wouldn’t it?” you’d questioned her, by no means trying to be coy about it.

Paige had smiled softly like she knew, amusement and acceptance in her features as she agreed, “I suppose it would, Princess.”

She follows you everywhere – your royal meetings, your appointments with your tutors, to the dining room, and well, if she’s found in your bedroom, listening to you ramble about your latest project, then you’d say it’s for your own protection as much as it’s for the growing friendship between the two of you. When Paige isn’t worried about her professionalism, she talks. A lot. It doesn’t bother you at all. You’re content to listen to her stories, her experiences, her life, how every choice she made throughout the years led her here. Selfishly, you’d think that inadvertently, her choices had led her to you, although you don’t voice that thought at all.

She grew up in a small village a few hours away by horseback – Storrs. It isn’t well known for much except for the cold winters that the locals loathe. She’d recounted her childhood with a fond smile on her face, even the uncomfortable parts like the time she’d hurt her knee severely while sparring or when her parents had divorced. Divorce wasn’t as familiar to you, having been raised in the castle where your father remained with your mother until she passed, even though there wasn’t any love between them after your birth and their failure to conceive a male heir – although that’s a story for another day. When you voiced as such, wondering about the casualness in which she and her parents viewed their separation, she’d merely shrugged and said, “Sometimes people just don’t feel the same love that they did before. Why stick around to force something when your heart’s not in it?”

You’d felt as though that applied to a little more than relationships, considering how you didn’t want to be queen. As much as you trusted Paige, you didn’t think it was the time nor the place to drop that kind of confession on her.

While there’s no more attempts on your life, Paige sticks by you fiercely. If it were anyone else, you’d probably be pissed at the lack of independence, but there’s something about Paige’s company that you cherish, even if it’s just her standing watch at the door while your tutor teaches you philosophy. You like having her around. That thought should scare you much more than it does. For the first time in a really long time, it feels like you’re free. Growing up, you’d never had many friends. Everyone your age was always too aristocratic, too pompous, too entitled. You’d tried, but you could just never get along with them – it was always like you were on the outside looking in no matter what you did differently. With Paige, it feels like you’re shedding all of the past desires to fit in. She makes you feel as though you don’t have to fight your way inside just to be accepted. She makes you feel as though there’s always a place you’ll belong, even if it’s just with her.

So while there aren’t any more attempts on your life, that doesn’t mean your life gets easier. As you progress in your training and you begin to take up more royal duties, there is an increase in the number of suitors that make their way through the castle. Most of them have been arranged by your father, seeking to find a husband to rule next to you – or rather, someone for you to stand next to while they rule. They’re either princes of distant kingdoms, or the high-ranking sons of nobles. You hate all of them. They’re either too old, too stuck-up, too arrogant, or too…male. You’d longed for visions of long, blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes, the gentle way in which the knight spoke to you yet the fierce way she protected you. None of these men were her, and you could tell your father was becoming upset by how often you turned them away.

If you hated them, then you’re not quite sure what word to use to accurately portray the amount of disdain that Paige feels for them. You can see it in her expression alone, the white-hot hatred that burns in her eyes even as she speaks to you politely, calmly. You see it in the way she stands unyieldingly next to you, a hand poised over the hilt of her sword as if she was ready to dispose of whichever groveling idiot was trying to propose, if you wouldn’t deny them yourself. You see it in the way her entire demeanor shifts, the way she grows more confident when you’re alone and her hand curls around your waist and she dips her head down to your ear to whisper, “None of them deserve you. Not a single one of them.”

If Paige hadn’t already ruined you for anyone else, then you’re sure she ruins you completely after that.

At first, you think it’s just her commitment to duty. Paige’s entire job is to keep you safe, protected. If she feels as though these suitors would be too violent, too uncaring, too unfit for you, then you suppose she was well within her right as the princess’s protector to feel however she wanted to feel. Then, you think it’s just hate. She knows you almost as well as you know yourself, if not more. At this point, you’re both a little more than princess and knight. You’re friends who share a mutual duty to a kingdom. However, you realize all too late that it’s actually jealousy.

She stands behind you, her tall stature imposing and intimidating as she stares down the last suitor you had scheduled for today. He’s the prince from a kingdom down south. His name is Oscar and if you had to be honest, you got a bad feeling from him as soon as he strutted in, a black and red cape billowing behind him like he’s already king and has nothing to worry about. You’d even felt Paige stiffen behind you, but you promised your father you would at least talk to your suitors before rejecting them (and you were not keen on sitting through another lecture from him).

The interview goes terribly. You can feel Paige’s mood worsen the more Oscar speaks. He interrupts you countless times, talks over you, and when you do get to speak, he dismisses it like it’s trivial and continues rambling on about his success or his fortune or how well he could lead a kingdom. You knew the conversation was over as soon as he promised he wouldn’t take anymore than five mistresses and you had to stop Paige from jumping across the table and stabbing him entirely.

So, you politely tell him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re what I’m looking for in a potential king. I have to look after my people.”

You see the shift in his expression before he even raises a hand. You just couldn’t react fast enough to block the swing.

But Paige does. She catches Oscar’s wrist in her hand, her grip so tight that the tips of his fingers were turning purple and he was choking on pain. Then, she slams his hand into the wooden table before you, the surface almost splintering from the force of it. You can hear a sickening crunch, but all you do is raise your brows as Paige leans over you, her gaze set firmly on Oscar. “We’re done here,” she murmurs, her voice low and threatening. “Raise a hand to the princess ever again and I’ll kill you myself. Do I make myself clear?”

You don’t hear what he says, too stunned to focus on anything but the vein that protrudes from Paige’s neck, the challenge laced in her tone, the way her response has left a warm feeling deep in your belly. He scurries out with a metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, the door slamming shut, and you and Paige are left alone in the conference chamber. Paige breathes heavily next to you, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder in both consolation and apology, yet all you fixate on is the way your thoughts race.

Paige is saying something to you, but it sounds like you’re underwater. You push out your chair, standing as she rambles, and you turn on your heel to meet her eyes. There’s still a lingering fire in there although it dwindles the more she talks, concern and something else you can’t quite place taking precedence. Before you have the time to talk yourself out of it or remind yourself of how wrong this is, you curl your fists in the fabric of her tunic and you pull her down to your level.

She immediately freezes against you, the words caught in her throat releasing in the form of an indulgent groan as she finally registers that your lips are on hers. When she relaxes to kiss you back, the intensity is almost overwhelming, like the fire from earlier has returned. She grips your hips possessively, backing you into the table and lifting you onto it for better leverage, one hand dropping to hold your thigh and the other curling around the back of your neck. Paige leans forward, pressing against you like she couldn’t stand to leave any inch of space between you.

The kiss is hazy and it makes your mind spin in the best way possible. You sigh against her, welcoming the intrusion when her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and she holds onto you like she’s scared that you’ll disappear if she lets go. Paige kisses you like you’re hers, which you may as well be. You’re hers to protect, hers to hold – not the princes’, not the nobles’, not anyone else’s.

When you both break away from each other, chests heaving, her voice is rough, low, wrecked when she whispers again, “None of them deserve you.” Her eyes scan yours, her thumb brushing across your pulse point and her breath hitching like she can feel exactly what she’s doing to you. “Not you, the princess. And especially not you, the girl whose heart is as pure as it is kind. The girl who I…”

You swallow thickly, feeling the heat in your cheeks and fighting the urge to pull her back into you as she trails off. “And you do?” you murmur. “Deserve me?”

“I’d fight a hundred men and a hundred men more if it meant proving that to you,” she vows. You know her well enough by now that you don’t need her to prove anything more to you. She already has. Your heart is hers. “This isn’t just a duty to me,” she confesses a few beats later, her voice hardly above a whisper like she’s confessing a secret. “It’s real. What you are to me is real. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing will,” you say, confident and assured. “I’m safe with you.” Paige nods, her hands warm against your skin, and you press your temple to hers to admit, “For you, I’d run away and leave it all behind.”

You feel her freeze against you, surprise, mostly. She leans back to meet your eyes. “Princess, you don’t mean that,” she says quietly.

You nod vehemently, your fingers tightening in the fabric of her tunic. “I do, Paige, I swear it.” She softens, taking in the conviction in your tone. “I don’t want this – I don’t want to marry someone else. I don’t want to be the queen. I want you, a life of peace, where I don’t have to worry that someone will try to kill me or if I’m making a decision that will kill my people. I want peace.”

The silence lingers. There’s a realization in the wake of your declaration that in your position, you could never afford peace. Princesses don’t get peace, or a life of ease, nor do they ever get the one they love. Knights don’t get peace, or a life of ease, nor do they ever get the one they love. You know you’d give it up in a heartbeat if you could find the courage to. You study Paige’s features closely, waiting for her to speak. She swallows thickly before she does.

“Storrs,” she whispers, confusing you. “My village. We can go there – just say the word and I will take you, I swear it. I don’t owe anything to this kingdom. My loyalty is to you. We’ll be safe there, free, and you can do everything you’ve wanted – you can teach, you can explore–”

“Okay,” you agree.

Paige pauses. “What?” she asks, trying to keep the hope at bay.

“We’ll go to Storrs,” you repeat, a smile growing on your face.

“You mean it?” Paige murmurs, her voice cracking, and all you can truly do is cup her face in your hands, kissing her once more. This one is softer, the perfect seal to the promise you’ve just made to each other, and it feels more right than a crown on your head ever will. Her embrace makes you feel more secure than a legion of your father’s men ever could. You know in your heart that this is where you belong.

Happiness doesn’t last for too long. 

When you wake up the next morning, you can feel that something is off. Paige is usually already awake, standing guard at your door and waiting for you to come out for breakfast. Now, there’s an unusual silence that lingers and it makes you feel on edge.

Instead of Paige at your door, you find Carlotta, wearing an uncomfortable expression on her face. Dread wraps its fist around your heart, squeezing tight, and your chest hurts when you ask, “Carlotta, what’s going on?”

“Your father has requested your presence in the throne room immediately,” she says to you, her voice shaking. You swallow thickly, afraid of what waits for you. You cast an uneasy glance at the door to Paige’s room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but still feeling as though something is terribly wrong. Carlotta follows behind you as you walk through the winding corridors, anxiety coursing through your veins.

The scene awaiting you in the throne room is not one you could have ever prepared yourself for. Your father sits idly atop his throne, an almost nonchalant laziness in his body language. He’s surrounded by his usual guard detail. Your body burns with anger when you realize Oscar is standing right next to him, his hand wrapped in gauze and a splint, a malicious expression on his face. But what truly devastates you, what makes fear seize your heart entirely is Paige held firmly in the knight captain’s grasp, her hands and ankles shackled. She looks no worse for wear, only disheveled and her bun mussed from an evident fight, but her eyes burn bright with hatred and something that looks like failure.

“My daughter,” the King calls across the room. Everyone directs their attention to you, but you’re not prepared for the amount of grief and shock on Paige’s, like she wasn’t expecting you to see her like this. “Come – we have much to discuss.”

There it is again. That same steely calm from the night in the gardens. Your father isn’t the kind of man to yell – people with power and trained men at their disposal have no need to raise their voices – which is why his demeanor in this situation makes you fearful. Not for yourself, but for Paige.

“I’m not a man who shies away from admitting when he’s wrong,” your father continues when you step closer. “Accountability makes for strong leaders. I’ve always told you that, haven’t I?” You scan his features, your gaze giving nothing away. He’s not looking for a response. “It seems I’ve made a mistake in knighting an individual. Where she goes, trouble follows, such as the night in the garden. And now, with the suitors.” Your father cocks his head, looking perplexed. “Prince Oscar has suffered several broken bones and a fractured wrist due to…your knight being unable to control her anger. Alas, it has come to my attention that she has also filled your head with lies, deceit, and empty promises.”

He stands, his sea of guards parting for him as he makes his way towards you, towards Paige. “If she wants to run away, so be it. If this turncoat knight no longer wants to give back to the kingdom that has made her, that has given her the life she has now, then so be it. What I will not allow is for her to manipulate my daughter – the Princess – into leaving with her.

“So,” he muses, ushering Prince Oscar forward, who gazes at you like he’s won. “We are here to make an example. The monarchy will not be mocked. My daughter, tomorrow at sunset, you will be wed to Prince Oscar. He will be your king and you will inherit the throne. And your knight –” he spits the word like it’s venom, clear distaste evident in his features, “–will be executed at nightfall for treason against the crown.”

Your ears are still ringing.

Your father’s revelation left you numb, reeling. You watched as his men dragged Paige out of the room, her eyes locked on yours in surprise, disbelief, and ever-present grief. Your father had more to say to you, but you weren’t listening. Being forced to marry Oscar of all suitors was at the back of your mind. All you could think about for hours on end was your knight will be executed at nightfall. The word executed circulated through your mind on repeat along with images of Paige’s eyes, betrayed and disappointed all at one.

This wasn’t the plan. You and Paige were supposed to run away. You were supposed to leave kingdom life behind and go to Storrs together. You were supposed to live a life of peace in a small village where the crown couldn’t possibly find you. You’re not supposed to marry Oscar, or watch the love of your life be executed. This was all so horribly wrong.

You’re confined to your room for the entire day, your father feeling as though you would find a way to escape or look for Paige. He knows you better than you’d expected. With nothing but time on your hands, you wait. You cry. You scream and you break the mirror in your room because when you look at it, all you can see is the way Paige had stood behind you as you asked for her opinion on your dress and her jaw had gone slack before she whispered, “I think you’re the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen.” You spiral, because you were so close to making it out but your father and Oscar have derailed your plan.

At nightfall, 24 hours away from Paige’s scheduled execution, Carlotta knocks at your door. She lets herself in when you don’t respond. You hardly look up, even when she takes a seat on the foot of your bed. She’s silent for a few moments before she says, “I’m sorry, Princess.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound scraping against your throat. “It’s not your fault, Carlotta.” Even if it was, you don’t want to think about it. This woman has raised you since you were a baby. You weren’t sure if you could ever handle that heartbreak.

“It’s not,” she agrees softly. She clears her throat. You can almost feel her hesitation. “I was next to your mother when she passed on,” she admits. That confession makes your heart skip a beat. “I held her hand as she was taking her final breaths. I’d loved her, you know. Your father never knew. He didn’t care to. But when I watched my life’s greatest love die, it was a pain unlike anything else I’d ever experienced. I thought a part of me died that day. Your mother, however, entrusted me with something special to her – a part of her. She made me promise to take care of her daughter – the Princess – and to this day, you are the most important person to me.”

“Carlotta,” you murmur, tears pooling in your eyes and your voice cracking. “What are you saying?”

“You love her,” she says, like it’s more fact than fiction, like it’s something as obvious as the sky is blue or the grass is green. “Sir Paige. She is your life’s greatest love. I couldn’t save my love. But there is still hope for yours.” She stands, drawing your attention as you feel her move. There is a folded piece of parchment in her hand. Carlotta presses it into your hands. “Read this, and do not lose your faith, Princess.”

Carlotta leaves before you can say – before you can ask anything else of her. Your mind spins as you look down at the paper in your hands, at Paige’s familiar, sloped handwriting. Fingers trembling, you unfold it, and you begin to read.

Princess,

I did not think I would get to speak with you after they dragged me out of the throne room in handcuffs, so you will have to forgive me if this letter is incoherent. It is difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea – the fact, rather, that I will be dying at nightfall tomorrow.

Being a knight, I had always known that my death would be imminent. My profession is not safe. My duty is to put my life on the line for the kingdom, for the king and the princess. I knew of that long before I picked up my sword for the first time. I had always imagined that it would be in combat – perhaps I would be fighting those hundred men and the hundred men more that I had spoken of. Perhaps I would be the lucky one and die of age after living a life of valor, dedication, and virtue. Execution had never crossed my mind.

If there is one part of my life that I could pick out and say is the greatest moment of it, I would say that meeting you is it. Not being knighted for the first time or my father teaching me how to wield a blade. It was you. It is always going to be you. You are my purpose, my reason for fighting. You have made my life worth it, even if we were only a short time.

I want you to know a few things. First, this is not your fault. If I knew the outcome from the very beginning, I would choose you everytime without question. A moment with you is worth an eternity wherever my soul takes me next. Second, do not give up. You are kind, courageous, brilliant – I know you will think of something. Third, I miss you. I have only been apart from you for a few hours, but I miss you; if I knew of a way to make you miss me the way that I do, I would never dare to make use of it for you are undeserving of such an all-consuming ache. The fourth is that I love you. I planned on telling you once we made it to Storrs, after I had introduced you to my family. You deserve to know.

You are my greatest love, Princess. In this life and the next I will never give up on searching for you.

Eternally,

–P

By midafternoon the day of your wedding and Paige’s execution, you can tell that something has shifted once more. The palace is eerily silent. Again. It almost makes you worry, but after considering that your life couldn’t get any worse, you decide that the silence is a problem for you in the future. For all intents and purposes, you’re still essentially trapped in your room, and you spent the better part of the night and the entire day leading up to this moment rereading Paige’s letter to you. It didn’t make you feel any better about the situation, but you try to remember Carlotta’s words to you. They give you strength when you feel like all else is failing.

The minutes tick by until you hear tapping on the glass door leading to your balcony. Believing it may only be a bird, you think nothing of it until the tapping persists, louder this time. The glass is textured, so you can’t see out of it, but you reach for the first sharp object you can find – in this case, it’s one of your heels – and you creep towards the door, pushing it open with caution.

You freeze immediately. The heel slips out of your grasp and Paige is standing before you, her tunic rumpled and exhaustion in her eyes, but she doesn’t look hurt, and that’s all you can truly be thankful for. “I was beginning to think you weren’t home,” she murmurs, a coy smile on her face that is not befitting of the moment, and you could sob as you throw your arms around her neck. She wraps her arms around your waist, lifting you off of your feet. Paige buries her face in your neck, breathing you in and sighing in relief – you’re both okay. You don’t know what to say, stammering through words that don’t make any sense, but Paige squeezes you a little tighter, shushing you.

After a moment, she places you back down on the ground, drinking you in like she can’t believe this is real. Then, she smiles softly. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she says quietly. “Carlotta is waiting for us at the stables. Get your bag and whatever else you need. She’ll take us to Storrs.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, all you can do is nod, wiping your eyes as you retrieve the bag you’d packed after you and Paige agreed to leave. You make sure to slip into a pair of more comfortable shoes and you don’t forget to grab her letter stashed under your pillow. When you’re ready, she guides you down the wall of the palace and into the garden below, creeping through the bushes until you reach the stables. You hug Carlotta so tightly that she groans, laughing, and together, you, Paige, and Carlotta make the journey on horseback to her village.

Her village welcomes you and Carlotta in – they’re definitely a little shocked, but they’re happier to have Paige back and safe. She introduces you to her family, her mom, her dad, her step-parents, her brother and her step-siblings and they all treat you like one of their own, a blended family that’s no less full of love. They own a small little shop, one that dabbles in selling antiquities and artifacts from ages ago. You can see yourself splitting time between working there and teaching the village children, but most importantly, you can see yourself free, in love, and happier than you ever would have been in the castle. It will surely be a national emergency when the King realizes that the princess, the knight, and the chambermaid have all escaped, but you think that’s a problem for someone else.

For the record, Paige does tell you she loves you – in person, not through a letter – that night after you’ve been fully introduced to everyone and her mothers worked together to make a hearty dinner for you and Carlotta. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of having – a love that’s wholly yours, a life to share with someone who cherishes you, and the freedom to live the life you’ve always wanted. You were always destined to find this – destined to find Paige, to love her, to give her your heart completely; the two of you have always been connected by that red string of fate and wherever your souls take you next, you know you’ll find her there, waiting for you.

2025

The memory fades and you and Paige blink in tandem, your hands still resting over the book as you look at each other. Almost no time has passed, although the both of you look like you’ve lived a whole new life entirely, which you may as well have. Paige breaks the silence to mutter, “I was a knight in a past life and in this one, I have to do homework?” Her disbelief makes you laugh, all of the tension dissolving as she joins in with you.

“Says you,” you retort. “I was a princess.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “You ain’t never letting that one go.”

“Nope!” you chirp happily. Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t keep the smile off of her face as she closes the book gently. You intertwine your fingers with hers, giving her a squeeze. “Hey, you okay?” you ask.

Paige nods, her smile widening. She leans in to kiss you softly, which makes you grin against her. “Never better,” she assures you. “I was right, though.” You hum, gazing up at her, and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “You are my greatest love.”

“You’re mine, too,” you promise, wrapping your arms around her neck as she pulls you into a hug that feels lifetimes in the making. “We’re timeless, aren’t we?”

[jacaerysgf]

Fighting words

summary: one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.

Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Cerwyn!reader | 1.3k wrds

c.w: probably very occ as we dont know like anything abt him in the show 😭😭, slightly smutty, takes place before any battles, not proofread

he wouldn’t leave my mind, so take this 😁

masterlist - requests are open!!

tags: @hxtd

“No. Leave me alone bracken.” you try to shove him away from you but the bracken boy just grins at you and leans closer into you.

“Oh come on cerwyn, i see how you look at me~” a scoff escapes your lips as you stare at him with disgust. “In your fucking dreams, seriously. Leave me alone.”

You didn’t even know this guys name but he had been bothering you for the last couple days. It had started out small with him trying to invite you to come drink with him and his friends to him offering to carry around your stuff for you when you were walking around.

“theyre arrows bracken.”

“so what? must be heavy for you youre a girl.”

He grossed you out. But didn’t matter even if he didn’t,

“she said no.”

The two of you turn to look at the new voice and a smile creeps up on your face. The bracken boy rolls his eyes as he glares, “the hell do you want blackwood.”

“she said no. Back off.”

youve been friends with the lord of house blackwood for since you were younger and hes always been so kind to you. It seemed to be obvious to everyone other than him that you were madly in love with the young lord but if he did notice he said nothing about it.

You knew of his, angry? or maybe a better word is his more aggressive behavior. You had never even seen it first hand but multiple people have told you first hand accounts of him losing his temper and blowing up, his normal calm and kind demeanor getting lost to rage and blind madness.

You did not know what to think about the rumors then but seeing the way his eyes twitched and his clenched jaw as he stared at the bracken boy the rumors about him became more and more believable.

The bracken boy stands and gets all up in bens face, “What are you gonna do about it huh?”

Ben tilts his head and a look you’ve never seen crosses his eyes as he glares. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” His voice is hard like youve never heard before and it has you holding your breath, waiting for the straining thread to snap.

And the thread snaps the second bracken pushes bens chest and laughs. “what? you upset this ugly bitch wants me more than you-“ It happens before you know it and suddenly the two guys are on the floor and everyone in the room jumps up to look.

you freeze. What in the hells are you supposed to do? so you merely watch as the two boys beat the fuck out of each other. Ben pulls ahead at some point and manages to get a few more punches in after pinning the guy down until the two are pulled apart.

“never talk about her like that, no. never talk to her again or else ill fucking kill you.” He thrashes around in the arms of the two blackwood lads that hold him back as he continues to spit insults at the bracken boy as he gets dragged off and out of the space.

Your legs move before you can even think and your standing in front of him, he freezes and blinks at you rapidly. Hes covered in blood, you cant tell which is his and which is the other guys but he looks badly hurt.

He had done it for you. In your name. And you could barely take how hot you felt but he needed you. “i have supplies in my tent let me fix you up.” the boys oooo’d and ben barely acknowledges them as he nods and allows you to drag him off to your tent.

The boys call after you two with some unsavory choice words but you just turn and flip them off before you continue to help ben to your tent. You place him on your bed cot and try to ignore the racing of your heart as he stays quiet, merely looking at you.

Hes usually quiet but not around you. Its odd to see him like this. So you shakily rummage around with the stuff in your chest as you nervously begin to talk. “thank you for stepping in i was really nervous he wasn’t going to leave me alone, you didn’t meed to-“ you gasp as your spun around and lips lock onto yours with fever.

One of his hands reach behind you and push all your stuff off your table, lifting up you up to sit on it while he kisses you. You gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth.

Your head is spinning. You can taste the metallic taste of his blood seep into your mouth and it laces its way into your kiss. You fear you’re dreaming. You felt asleep on watch shift again and when you wake this will all just be a dream.

Yet when you grip your hand against his waist he pulls away and winces. You are pulled back to reality and try to pull away to grab your medical supplies that now are all spilled all over the floor but he quickly stops you.

“ben you’re hurt.” “i dont care.” He tries to kiss you again but you dodge it and grip his face in your hands. “ben,” His hand slide around your waist and play with the fabric of your tunic, testing the waters and sliding his hands lower and almost under the tunic you wear. “ben.” you say firmer and he pauses to look at you.

“right now i just need to feel your skin, please.” your heart pounds loudly against your chest and your mouth drops open. “ben,” his name shakily passes your lips and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “How dare he talk to you like that. i should have killed him,” his hands slide under your tunic his hot hands run up and down your bare sides slowly. “he should know i take no disrespect to the future lady of blackwood.”

You kiss him unable to take it anymore and he meets your fever eagerly. arms wrapping around you and pulling you so your chest to chest and you can feel him pressing against your trousers.

His lips trail down your jaw as his hands find your breasts and you let out a moan as he squeezes them in his hands. His lips your neck and he sucks at any skin he can get while he grinds his hips against yours. His hands grow more feverish as he uses his teeth to pull down your tunic to expose more of your collarbone and neck, youre sure to be covered in bruises tomorrow but you cant be bothered with that.

One of his hands trails down your stomach and almost gets to reach under your pants until a horn sounds outside and you both look at each other alarmed.

“ugh fuck me.” “wish i could.” you slap him on the chest as he pulls away and he hisses.

“that hurts.” “if you had let me patch you up it wouldn’t be hurting you idiot.” “you certain didn’t look like you were going to complain. not when i was about to-“ “okay! lets go they need us.” you ignore the sound of his laughter as you flap open your tent and rush out leaving him behind, hoping you look presentable enough your men dont ask questions and pray you can continue what you were doing with ben later.

[cranberrv]

thunder

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston loses his temper

( a/n : HIII im sorry if this wasnt ur vision but i dont think dallas is one for big apologies so i kinda focused on the arguement more than the apology hope that’s ok… also toxic dallas alert sorry if that isnt ur scene!! also not proofread but hope u cuties enjoy )

it was a late night in mid-summer, and you and dallas were on the porch on the curtis brothers house. he wanted to go out for a smoke, and dragged you along. you were wearing his leather jacket, it was a windy night and you were getting chilly. dallas had goosebumps along his arms.

“are you sure you don’t want it back, dal?” you ask him, insisting on giving him his jacket back.

“nah, sugar, don’t want ya freezin’ to death out here,” he answers, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the empty street.

“i’ll just go inside, though, so you don’t get hypothermia or something..” you insist, but he grabs your hand and stops you.

“you’re fine, baby, stay with me.” you look up at him and nod, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

you stand outside for a little while longer. it feels so peaceful standing there with him. his hand that’s rough and dangerous from the punches it throws is enveloping yours in a sweet gentleness shown only with you. his cigarette smoke becoming a mock mist that calms you both down. his deep breathes that are only heard because of how quiet it is.

nothing could ruin this moment.

you felt it was a good time to say the three words. not like you hadn’t said them before — it’s been a year since you’ve started dating, and you’ve both adored each other from the very start. but dallas got funny when you told him what he already knew. tonight would be different, you thought.

“.. i love ya, dal,” you say softly after a few moments of quiet. it felt casual — exactly what he would have wanted. but maybe not casual enough, because there was a short silence following your words.

eventually, he speaks. “i know ya do, sugar.”

you sigh. why is it that he could never stand to say it back?

he catches your sigh. of course he knows what you’re sighing about — he knows you all too well. he chooses not to act on it, not to apologize, not to say anything. he doesn’t want to fight with you. he just takes a drag of his cigarette and plays innocent.

“it would be nice to know that you loved me too, dallas,” you eventually say.

“oh c’mon,” another drag of his cigarette. “you ain’t an idiot, you know i do.”

“do i? i can’t remember one time you’ve said ‘i love you’ to me,” you cross your arms and look up at him.

“this isn’t somethin’ to get pressed on, y/n, the boys are inside and the windows are open,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop talking, to pretend like you’re okay. all because he doesn’t want his friends to hear. “and i have said it, baby, you’re just forgetting or somethin’.”

“you have not, i would remember if you have,” you counter, shoving his hand off of you. “i don’t want to argue, dallas, i really don’t—“

“too damn bad, y/n, because you’re sayin’ that i don’t love you, and we both know that ain’t true,”

“then say it.”

“..what?”

“you heard me,” you say. “it has been a whole year of us dating, and you’re never ready to say that you love me,” you raise your voice to get your point across.

“christ, y/n, you’re difficult, huh?” he groans. “it ain’t a big deal, don’t go throwing a tantrum.”

“i’m difficult? dallas, i don’t know if you get how a relationship works, but at this point, you either love me, or you’re done with me. there is no middle ground after this long together.”

“you’re fuckin’ crazy, i know how a relationship works, and i ain’t done with you. don’t go stickin’ words in my mouth,” his voice is raising, too.

“if you’re not done with me, then you love me.” you say, in a desperate attempt to get him to say the three words. you almost want to beg. “it hurts, dallas, that i don’t get that reassurance, that i leave our dates with my words hanging in the air, waiting for a reply,”

he groans. “you know that i do, so what’s the fuckin’ point?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he scoffs, his voice raising. not quite yelling, but definitely not talking. “holy fuck, you know that i love you, man, so quit bein’ such a bitch!”

the crease in your eyebrow drops as he says that. “don’t call me that,”

“c’mon, man, you’re acting like a fuckin’ lunatic trying to get me to admit somethin’ that i’ve already admitted,” he says, voice still raised. “take a deep breath, maybe get a glass of water, and come back to me once you’re normal again.”

you scoff. “because i’m expressing my feelings, suddenly i’m a lunatic? because i’m not like your old girls, and i actually strive for a healthy relationship, i’m not normal?”

“you’re freakin’ out because i didn’t say it back once, of course i think you’re going crazy.”

“i’m ‘freaking out’ because it’s been a year of ‘thank you’ and ‘i know’ whenever i tell you i love you,”

“you’re being a dumbass, y/n, you know i—“ he cuts himself off, sighing and taking a step back. “fine, man, whatever, you win. go inside and call bucks when you’ve cooled off, i’m goin’ home,”

when he walks past you, the air is thick and unwelcoming. you don’t even bother getting the last word, dreading the fact that he might turn back and lose his shit if you do. he mutters something incoherent under his breath, and walks down the creeky front porch steps, into the dead of night.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

of course, you don’t call bucks. why would you? just so buck can tell you that dallas isn’t there, when in reality he just doesn’t want to talk to you? just so suddenly you’re bending to his will, and he’s getting his way once again? you don’t think so.

dallas does this a lot — whenver you two fight, even if it’s a small one, he needs time to cool off. sometimes it’s a couple hours, sometimes it’s a day. it’s never stretched longer, until now. it’s been three torturous days of waiting for a grand gesture, an apology, anything.

the next day at school, you’re walking through the parking lot during your lunch break, talking to cherry valance and marcia about what happened between you and dallas. they say a lot of “told you so” and “that’s dallas for you”, and you can’t say they’re wrong. they warned you about him, and his reputation for being so short-tempered and stubborn.

the sound of an engine roars behind you, and you and your friends turn your heads to see who is making the noise. it’s a 1957 red thunderbird, you recognize it as buck merrill’s.

“that must be dal’s friend, buck,” you whisper to your friends. “but why would buck be here?”

“he’s a greaser, he’s probably like, 5 grades behind and coming here begging for another shot at graduation,” randy, marcia’s boyfriend, teases. you shoot him a glare, and he shuts up.

“i’ll go see whats up,” you say softly, walking over to the now-parked car.

as you walk over and the window rolls down. it is not buck merrill, like you expected, but it’s dallas winston.

“hi,” you say softly, your walls starting to go up but hesitating, wondering if you’re even still fighting.

“hey, sweetie,” he says, not explaining what he’s doing here.

“what’re doing?” you ask him.

he shrugs. “wanted to see you, i dunno.”

“oh,” you say softly. you hoped for an apology, you hoped for flowers, you hoped for chocolate, you hoped for a hug, you hoped for—

“i shouldn’t of gotten all heated when we talked, it wasn’t cool,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “and you ain’t a bitch.”

“..thanks.” you say after a few seconds of silence. what a shit apology, you think.

he’s staring out into the parking lot instead of you. “and i’m crazy about you, man,” he looks up at you. “you gotta know that, sugar.”

“thank you,” you repeat again, unsure of what to say.

another beat of silence as he swallows in his throat, before speaking and finally looking over at you. “i love ya, doll,”

you should’ve stayed mad, you should’ve not accepted his awful apology, but you cannot hide the smile tugging at your lips. this is all you’ve asked for from him, and he finally has the courage to admit it.

“i love you too, dallas.” you say softly, leaning into the window and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “thank you,”

“you gotta stop sayin’ that, y/n,” he teases, playfully pushing you away. “go hang out with your stupid friends, man. i’ll come over tonight and hang.”

you nod, and walk away, looking back at him and seeing a small smile on his face. nothing could ruin this moment.

[chaconnewon]

nerd!won surprising u by actually being good in bed despite what the others say (him being bitchless i mean) *but still clumsy and cute 😩* PLEASE

a/n: TOOK ME A FUCKING WHILE TO WROTE THIS. I am so, so sorry. Is not even that good. I had to change it so many time that I dont really know if it's what you wanted or... anyways I hope you like it(if you see it ;_;) Thank you so much for the request. <3

surface ─── y.jw

contains: nerd!jungwon x fem!reader, masturbation(f. recieving), unpreotected sex(gyus no), mentions of a party, alcohol(both conscious), jungwon looks like a tease but it's a softie, mention of aftercare. wc: 2k(2.261) a/n pt2: this is proofread but once again english is not my frist languague so it may contains mistakes. hope you enjoy it !!!

‘’Why you care about body count so much?’’

You didn’t mean to overhear that conversation but those students were too close to you, and they weren’t speaking quietly. You took some books off your shelf locker, maybe a little slower to continue being nosey.

‘’ What if I'm sleeping with someone who has zero experience?’’

‘’ Everyone has been inexperienced at least once. Not a big deal, you’re having sex for fun not to impress someone.’’

That was right. No one should be ashamed for being a virgin, or lacking in experience. From the past years people made sex look like some kind of competition. Setting your status based on how many people you slept with. Nothing to flex about, neither if you have sex or not, both valid. 

‘’ I know for sure some of your classmates have lost their virginity…’’

‘’ Jesus, why are we talking about that? ‘’

‘’ What do you mean ‘we’? She seems to have been ovulating for the past two months! My girl, if you wanna get laid so bad, go ask Jay for one night. I'm pretty sure he won’t deny.’’

‘’Not my type.’’

The girls laughed, and so did you. Quietly, of course. 

‘’My type is more like… Jaeyoon? Or maybe Jungwon!’’

You knew both of them. Well, actually you knew Jake for always saying dumb shit at the worst moment possible. He kinda makes you laugh, and was a good classmate. And Jungwon… 

Jungwon was the type of guy who’s smart as fuck. Like, had a response to everything. He knew about so many things you couldn’t remember. Doesn’t talk too often but always has the first place in the ranking grades. No one could beat him even if they tried. A lot of people envied him for that, even making bad comments about him but Jungwon didn’t seem to care. For you, it was just admiration. A person so sweet, caring and smart. You couldn’t find bad traits about him and you didn’t want to.

It’s been four days since that conversation lingered in your mind and you couldn't help but wonder what was your ideal type. Never thought about that before and you felt curious. Not that you have an extensive list of crushes throughout your life but still.

Of course you liked some people, but none of them had a unique trait to make you think ‘’that is maybe some kind of my type’’ like glasses, or people taller than you. Honestly, you didn’t care as long as they were nice to you and the others.

Cuz we don’t beg or idealise the bare minimum. 

As soon as you stepped outside the school building, you stretched your body, hearing some of your bones crack. It was Friday, finally. And you couldn’t wait to arrive home and do nothing for the rest of the weekend. But again, you overheard another conversation.

‘’It is true that this boy next class is arranging a party?’’

‘’I think so, shall we go?’’

A party… When was the last time you went to a party? You thought about it, until said party day came. You stood in front of the door, hearing the music through the walls, blasting. Was that a good idea? You were 100% sure you wanted to spend the night in someone’s house full of people you didn't know?

When you stepped inside, the warmth of people's bodies slapped you, making you gasp for air. Did they really enjoy being so crowded, almost sweating, rubbing against other people? You didn't like the idea, and walked through dancing bodies until you reached the kitchen, apparently the only place in the house that seemed to be… spacious. 

You got yourself a cup of whatever they were handing, sipping thirsty and almost immediately regretting it. 

‘’Shit, did these people even pour some soda or something?’’ you muttered, eyebrows furrowing as you checked the plastic cup. 

By the corner of your eye, you caught some silhouette gripping the kitchen counter. He seemed like the alcohol was doing something to him, and he tried to act cool but didn’t work. Concerned, you held him by his arm, and soon found out who he was.

‘’Jungwon?’’

‘’Did you know those fuckers are serving just alcohol? No mixed, no shit. Straight pure alcohol like it’s gonna be banned.’’ he said, shaking his head with disapproval. ‘’Fuck, it’s burning my throat. And the people here aren’t making it easy.’’

You chuckled, softly. You haven’t heard Jungwon curse like that, like he was truly disgusted. 

You looked around, searching for a crowdless place to bring him. But everywhere was full of students: furniture, the couch, even the corners… Everything was filled with drunk, noisy people. And when you were that irritable, the least you wanted was some drunkass bothering you.

‘’Come here, let’s go.’’

You took him by his wrist, leading the way across the people. You didn’t even know whose house it was, but your steps guided you to the close bedroom, opening the door and entering, pulling Jungwon inside too. You placed him on the edge of the bed, and you took a seat on some chair in front of him.

Jungwon had his cheeks blushed due to the alcohol but still was very conscious of his actions and thoughts. His lips were parted slightly, breathing through them. And then was when you realised that Jungwon never had a dating rumor. You found him so pretty you reached that conclusion. You haven’t seen him with a girl, or talking about girls. Was he single? Or was he in a private relationship with someone? You heard other students making fun of him because apparently he had no one.

But what was the reality?

When you came back down from your daydreaming, you found his feline eyes looking directly at you, his head tilted to one side trying to read your mind.

‘’You good?’’ you asked, acting as natural as you could.

‘’Uh-hum’’ he hummed. ‘’And you? You seem far away from here.’’

You looked at him again, feeling how the blush was creeping in your face. And he smirked. He fucking smirked, like he noticed you red-ish shade lighting up you face. Like he knew what was inside your head.

Jungwon leaned in to grab the armchair, and pulled it closer to him, placing you and the chair between his legs. Suddenly something shifted in the air. Having him so close made your pulse rate high. 

‘’Is there any hidden intention why you brought me here?’’ 

You swallow hard, shaking your head. ‘’I–I saw you struggling, and thought to… I don’t know, you maybe feel better with no one around.’’

He faked a thoughtful expression. His hand travelled from the armchair to your chin, raising your head for you to look fully at him. There was something dark in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite tell. And honestly, it was hard to tell if you liked it or not.

Before you could react, his lips were pressing against yours. Slow movements started an addicting dance between both lips. His hand cupped your face, tilting it to one side to fit the kiss even better. You kissed him back without thinking twice, with hunger. 

With ease he lifted you and laid you down on the bed, positioning him between your legs. His lips descended from your mouth to your neck, marking and sucking it at the right places, like he knew your body better than you did. You squirmed beneath him, soft whines leaving your lips. You heard him curse underneath his breath, teeth sinking your soft neck skin to suppress his gasps.

He looked at you again, desire mixed with some kind of adoration reflecting his eyes. His hand roamed your body, memorizing every inch of it. You could keep still, arching your body against his soft touch. Jungwon’s fingerpads reached your clothed nipples, brushing it slowly until they were hard, perky.

‘’You liked that?’’ he smiled, pitching you perky bud and got a moan for answer, content.

‘’F–Feels good.’’

‘’Does it? Should I continue?’’

‘’Please.’’

Jungwon didn't hang you waiting, raising you top clothes and exposing your breasts, covered by the thin layer of your bra. Gently hands were kneading your soft flesh, feeling every inch of your breasts. You back arched again to keep feeling the warmth of his hands, which traveled down until reaching your pants. You nodded at him as giving permission to go further, and he unbuttoned your pants, sliding them through your legs and tossing them aside.

He gripped your knees, spreading them to settle between them again. His fingers traced soft lines inside your thigh until they reached your clothes core, cupping it above the fabric. You gasped, breath hitching as he started to give pressure into your clit –or at least where he thought it was.

You shifted slightly, moving your hips to align his fingerpads and your clit. He was fast to catch up on what was going on.

‘’Not reaching?’’

‘’You’re a bit to the side…’’ you giggled softly, earning a soft chuckle from him for the first time that night.

He was a bit ashamed. It was his first time doing something like that, a fact that you would believe if he said it out loud. When he had enough of teasing you, his free hand moved to slide your panties to one side, taking a look at your wet pussy. He tried again, pressing two fingers in your clit and moving them in slow circles. He watches carefully your expressions, how you face contorned in pleasure even if he was moving them at slow pace.

He left you clit to spread your lips and coated his fingers in your arousal, the same ones brushing your entrance but not putting it in. Jungwon saw your legs tremble, trying to trap his hand between them and had to grab one of your legs to keep them open.

‘’Tell me if you want to stop because I don’t think I have enough energy myself. Please Y/N…’’

‘’N–No, don’t stop.’’

He smiled, and got rid of his own pants and underwear. You looked down, curious, and saw his hard dick standing. Maybe it was the prettiest dick you have ever seen–not that you saw many but still. He took himself from the base and pushed the tip a bit, coating it with your juices.

‘’You sure?’’

‘’Yes, I’m sure.’’

You looked at him for the last time. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, brows furrowing slightly. His cheeks were even red-ish that before, and you couldn’t help but to think that he was looking so cute right now. Despite being seconds away to fuck you, but he was still cute. He held one of your hands, interlacing his fingers at the same time he pushed his length inside you.

Inch by inch he bottomed you out, making sure there was no pain during it. But the second he noticed your scrunched expression, he stopped.

‘’Are you alright?’’

You nodded but Jungwon didn’t feel like it. His mind was racing, thinking of something to ease the pain you were not talking about. Then an idea snapped his mind. Jungwon took a pillow and placed it under your lower back, making your body a bit arched. 

‘’O–Oh, feels better like this.’’ You told him, squeezing his hand.

He took it as a sign to continue. Slowly, he pulled back a bit and again pushed his entire dick inside you, leaving you gasping for air. Jungwon continued to move with no rush, letting your insides adjust to his length. His free hand caressed your sides, then your stomach until they were back at your hips. Grabbing them, he started to pick up his pace, your moans slowly driving him insane.

You found out that, same as you, he was a vocal person. Especially when your walls clapped him so tight it was hard to move inside.

‘’Shit– You feel so good.’’ he panted, leaning closer to your body. His hot breath reached your neck, giving you goosebumps. 

Soon his dick was reaching spots you would have never known it would feel so good, making you squirm under his body. Your moans became a bit pitch-highed and more continuous, a clear sign you were close to snap. And that was the last straw from Jungwon, pushing harder into you, his tip constantly rubbing that sweet spot inside you.

You could tell he was close too by the way his thrusts were sloppier, his dick twitching inside you.

‘’F–Fuck, I’m so close–’’

‘’Me too, please. Don’t slow down.’’

He growled, hooking one of your legs from behind and lifting it a bit, reaching even further.

‘’Fuck! Just like that!’’

‘’ Haah… Y/N, wh–where do you want it?’’

You mumbled something about outside but not clarifying where. He waited until you reached your peak, clamping hard his dick with your gummy walls as the orgasm washed you all over. It felt good, so good he almost forgot to pull out. He was lost in the way his name fell off your lips in such an erotic way.

As you were coming back from your high, Jungwon suddenly pulled out, just in time to spurt thick ropes of cum from his throbbing cock. They landed in your pussy, mixed with your own release. 

You two tried to catch your breath, feeling how his seed was dripping from your cunt into the sheets beneath you. 

‘’You good?’’ he asked, stroking gently your face. You nodded. ‘’Good, let me clean you, okay?

[earlysunshines]

you're the best part

kim minji x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you meet minji's parents, they love you, and everything else that follows assures you that everything is wonderful as long as minji is in your life

warnings: none ; pure fluff ; they're so in love i want to sob ; the most girlfriend to every girlfriend ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: this was going to be a dani fic but there's a lack of minji on my feed and you guys dont understand how girlfriend she is and how much i want her and how much i i i i i i ijasdfkads shes so gf it drives me insane at night...

the red light shines across your features, highlighting the worry in the creases. you tap your foot up and down mindlessly, looking out the window of the passenger side.

“hey,” minji begins, her hand reaching over to grab yours, “it’s going to be fine.”

you glance back at her, her eyes meeting yours immediately with a softness that slightly relaxes your shoulders.

today you’re on the way to minji’s house, which is nothing new to you at all. you’ve been there a few times, but this time is much more different—her parents will be there.

you’ve never met her parents, despite frequenting her house here and there. they’ve just never been home, and you’ve always been a little grateful. it was inevitable that you’d have to meet them sometime, especially after being with her for so long.

and sure you’ve had your excuses—lectures, homework, errands, social things—and minji was always understanding. her parents didn’t seem to mind it since minji had mentioned you’re a busy woman, but no excuse will work now. 

minji moves your hand over to her lips, kissing the backside of your palm lightly as she steers with one hand. something slow plays in the background, one of your favorite songs in your shared playlist with her. 

she holds your hand the whole way to her house, kissing it once more when she shifts the car to ‘park.’

“hey,” she says softly, turning her head in your direction. you’re glancing down at your lap and your fingers are rubbing against themselves nervously. minji reaches over and uses two fingers to turn your head over to her, her touch settling near your jaw and warming your skin. “it’ll be fine love, i promise.”

“god, i’m just so scared. i mean, meeting them has been long overdue. what if they think i’m someone who always postpones things? someone avoidant? someone—”

she pinches your cheek, cutting you off from your ramble. 

“breathe, " she says simply, her hand fully cupping your cheek now. “they already like you a lot. i mean, i’ve shown them pictures, videos—everything. they think you’re beautiful and sweet and that’s exactly what you are. how could they not like you?”

“minji,” you mumble, sinking into her touch. your head shifts a bit so your lips meet the bottom of her palm. you peck her skin softly before huffing lowly, “okay.”

“we can take more time to sit here if you need.”

“no, no. i’ve kept them waiting for a while already. let’s just— let’s go.”

she pouts subtly as she rubs her thumb against your cheek. before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, though, she leans in and kisses your lips gently, a silent way to calm you down.

you two walk down the short path up to her steps, hands intertwined the whole way there. minji squeezes lightly after knocking, muttering a small, “i’m here, everything is going to be fine.”

“thank you.” 

seconds later, the locks start to click, and suddenly your heartbeat spikes. minji squeezes your hand again.

the door opens, and a woman—whom you instantly recognize from the pictures minji showed you of when she was younger—steps out. she has the same warm smile as minji, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waves. 

“well look who it is,” she greets, “it’s nice to see you two here. you must be y/n? come in!”

you felt some of your nerves melt at her welcoming tone. “hello, miss. thank you for having me.” you say as you follow minji inside.

her father was next to greet you, his handshake firm but friendly. “welcome to our home, again..” he jokes, “we’ve heard so much about you.”

“all good things, i hope?” you joke back, earning a laugh from him.

“better than good,” her mom chimes in as she leads you to the living room. “but i have to say, you’re even prettier than the pictures minji showed us. i understand why she’s always talking about you now.”

“mom,” minji groans, though her ears turn pink.

unsure of how to respond, you smile shyly. the warmth in the room eased your nerves. soon, minji’s younger sister appeared, her wide eyes darting between you and her sister. “you’re so pretty,” she says simply, her voice soft but full of awe.

“hi, thank you.” you reply. she’s maybe a hand shorter, so you tilt your head down just a bit to meet her eye level. “you’re adorable.”

the girl beams before giving minji a look, one that seems to make minji more bashful than before. next, minji’s older brother enters the room. he offers a small nod of acknowledgment, his expression neutral, but more on the friendly side when he adds a small grin. you could feel his eyes observing you as he introduced himself properly, though there wasn’t anything malicious—just quiet curiosity.

“let’s head to the kitchen,” minji’s mom says, “dinner isn’t finished cooking.”

you follow, offering to help. at first, they hesitated, but you insisted, and soon you were peeling vegetables and helping season the meat. minji gave you a pat above your waist before going upstairs to retrieve something, earning a shallow gulp and nod from you.

her mom glances at you with a soft smile, stepping closer. “thank you for being so kind to minji,” she says, her tone heartfelt. “she talks so much about you. it’s obvious how much you mean to her. thank you for making my daughter so happy.”

you pause, caught off guard by the sincerity. “she means a lot to me too,” you admit, feeling a warmth in your cheeks.

her dad, who had finished chopping onions, chimes in. “and you’re quite the cook, seems like this is second nature for you.”

you laugh, grateful for the compliment. “i’ve had some practice. i cook for minji all the time… she um, she likes my cooking so…”

her mom looks over to her dad briefly, a knowing look exchanged. “you really do live up to everything i’ve heard from my daughter.” her dad chuckles, patting you on the back. you laugh and nod, happy that they seem to approve.

minji returns shortly after, and together, you finish preparing dinner. 

(though not without teasing remarks and nudges here and there, which her family seemed to enjoy watching.)

by the time everyone sat down to eat, the atmosphere was lively and welcoming. her parents asked what you expected, curious in your studies and career goals. they nod approvingly when you explained your aspirations in public health. 

“it’s wonderful to see someone so passionate,” her mom beams. “you’re going to do great things, y/n.”

her younger sister giggles as you help add more of the entree to her plate, and even her older brother, though quiet, seemed to soften by the end of the meal. he gives you a faint smile as he finishes his meal, giving you a silent, kind gesture of approval. 

you help out with the dishes, collecting everyone’s and playfully arguing with her dad to wash all of them. he looks at you with surprise when you successfully manage to win over the sink, starting to scrub as he grows more fond of you.

while you do the dishes and as minji cleans the table, her mom walks over. minji feels a tap on her shoulder, and is met with a satisfied smile when she turns her head.

“y/n is lovely,” her mom says.

“i know.” minji nods, “i’ve known.”

“you have good taste.”

“i know that too.” minji giggles, glancing over in your direction and smiling. “i’m glad you guys like her too.”

after dinner, her parents and siblings prepared to head out for some errands (though both of you know it’s just so you can get a breath of fresh air, and have some time to recover) leaving you and minji alone in the house. as the door closes behind them, minji turns to you with a playful smile.

“what did i tell you?” 

“okay, okay. you were right. your family is amazing.” you exhale dramatically, sighing in relief. minji laughs at you as she steps closer, wrapping her arms around your waist tantalizingly and placing her chin on your shoulder as you finish scrubbing one last dish. 

“and so are you,” her voice softens as she says it, her breath hitting your skin and making you shiver. she presses a kiss to your jawline, then mutters, “seriously, thank you for being so great with them. it means a lot to me.”

you turn and meet her gaze, the water still running over your hands. “it’s easy when they’re so kind… like someone else i know. i can understand why you’re the way you are.”

“how romantic,” she says bluntly, making you huff and jab your elbow back into her. she acts hurt, but backs away as you put the last dish away. 

you dry your hands and press a kiss on her cheek, watching them grow pink by the second. she rolls her eyes and grabs her hand, leading you to the couch and plopping down before you plop down right beside her.

“do you want to watch a movie? must’ve been draining.” 

you don’t respond, instead, you close the distance between you two. your lips capture hers, with your body melting as you wrap your arms around her neck. when you pull away, you rest your head near the crook of her neck, simply enjoying yourself in her embrace.

“i just wanna be here, with you.” you mumble against her, “i’m really happy.”

“me too.” minji sighs into your hair before pressing a kiss. “hey, yn?”

“yeah?”

she doesn’t respond as she shifts a bit so you can comfortably lean against her side with your head on her shoulder. she wraps an arm around you now, fingers squeezing your shoulder lightly before she says,

“i love you so much, you know.”

you hum, sinking into her as your eyes close. 

a beat of silence passes by, and minji figures you’re asleep. but a soft, heavy breath catches her attention as you press even closer, sleepily muttering, 

“i love you more.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Misreading Letters

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Day 4: character A thought it was a date and character b thought they were going as a group

Summary: Maybe misreading letters sometime lead to happy nights.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1283 (longer than i thought it would be honestly)

Warnings: a bit of angst ig? heh

A/n: i wanted this to be SO, SO ANGSTY, but then i was like eh lets see where this goes, and its kinda fluffy i think! so ig thats a plus? as always, with me not liking my fluff fics, i think i could have done better with this one, but i wrote half of this in like 30 mins lol (dont we love procrastination 😍😍😍)

ANYWAYS. not proofread but hope yall like it!!

my entry for day 4 of @starfallweek <3

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Sometimes, Y/n had learned, the cold that seeped into her bones was not always a bad thing.

Sometimes, instead of the cold heralding an impending arrival of doom, the feeling grounded her. It made her focus on getting herself warm and ignore the nervousness spreading through her veins like venom.

On the evening of starfall, it was the giddiness of finally having her mate to herself that induced the feeling.

For months now, Y/n had felt like she had been waiting for this very day. The two had barely been mated for six months before the high lord had him deployed at the outskirts of a city on another continent, one too far for Azriel to be able to winnow or fly home easily. And so Y/n had endured, written letters that barely got a response, usually two sentences detailing his health, inquiring about hers, and a small, little promise at the end, telling her he’d be back soon.

The day before starfall, she finally got more.

The cold I’d acquired a week ago is gone. How are you, love? Be ready for starfall. I’m visiting for the night. Though I won’t be able to stay. Let’s make the most of our time together, right?

Yours,Azriel.

She hadn’t been able to sit still for more than a few moments since she had received the letter. Nerves made her jittery, her heartbeat erratic at any given moment.

Most of her day had passed making cookies, the same ones she had baked the day they had accepted the bond. It would be a nice touch, she hoped, for their first starfall together. It gave her a reprieve from her thoughts too, from the constant buzzing in her head. It gave her something to do with her hands, gave her something to focus on.

Just before night dawned, the table was spread with aromatic foods, all his favourites, and desserts. He had a sweet tooth, something Y/n adored. She was dressed up too, hands on her hips, surveying the sparse ornaments she had decorated the space with.

It was perfect for the two of them, she thought.

The sun set. Moon rose.

Candles were lit, the faelight enhancing the soft glow.

And yet, the one who Y/n waited for didn’t arrive.

But.. she had waited four months.

One hundred and twenty one days.

Two thousand nine hundred and twenty hours.

Another hour of wait wouldn’t kill her.

She glanced out the window. No trace of shadows.

And another hour.

Y/n picked up a book, having covered the feast she had prepared.

And one more.

Starfall was almost about to begin.

Finally, the sound of wings descending stole her attention, and Y/n was out of her seat and opening the door before she could even think about it.

"A… Cassian?"

The general smirked. "Oh don’t look so disappointed. Any other day, I’d be sobbing if you greeted me with that look."

Y/n straightened her shoulders, pushing a smile onto her face. "I’m sorry! It’s just- I didn’t expect you-"

"Oh hush. I was just teasing." His smile softened as he took a step onto the porch, his eyes moving behind her, taking in the decorations inside. His brows furrowed. "Were you… expecting someone?"

Y/n tucked her hair behind her ear. "Az. He said he’d be home for starfall."

Cassian’s eyes widened with understanding and something close to…pity? "Oh. He didn’t tell you that we were meeting at the river house?"

Y/n blinked in confusion. "He… is at the river house?"

Cassian nodded matter of factly. "He was asking about you."

Her heart dropped a little, yet she ducked her head, a bashful smile on her face. "I- I must  have misread his letter. I-"

"It’s okay. Happens sometimes. Come, he’s waiting. Let me take you." His voice was gentle, understanding, like he knew she was lying. She had not misread the letter. After all, there weren’t enough words to mis-read. She had just assumed he’d want to spend time with her after months of absence.

Y/n nodded, her shoulders bunching inwards as she closed the door behind her, feeling the scrutinising gaze of the general on her back. His grip was gentle when he wrapped her in his arms, and Y/n could tell he was trying to purposefully look anywhere but her.

In a way, she was glad. She did not want to see the pity in his eyes.

The flight was quick, leaving her with little time with her thoughts. Another blessing on a ruined evening, one she was grateful for.

Soft laughter poured from the sitting room as Cassian landed, and Y/n hurried to find her balance and waited for Cassian to lead the way.

"Well, fly safe, Az."

Y/n’s heart stopped at the high lord’s voice.

Was he already leaving?

There was no response, except a quiet hum that ignited the longing residing within Y/n’s heart that she had tried so hard to hide from her mate, lest he abandon his mission. And if he had to leave now…

Only one glimpse. That’s all she wanted. She wouldn’t stop him. This was important to him.

He was still in his leathers when the main door opened, the siphons on his body glowing like a beacon in the dark night, beckoning Y/n closer like she was prey. His wings were slumped, almost imperceptibly, but Y/n noticed. Not in the way they slumped in her presence, relaxed, but… dejected. That’s what he looked like. Like his expectations for the night weren’t met. And she had an inkling why. After all, she felt the same.

His eyes were rimmed by darkness, the spark in them dimmer as they swept the foyer, waving to his family. And then he turned, his eyes landing on Cassian walking up the steps towards him. Azriel’s brows furrowed.

"Where were you?"

Cassian shrugged, pointing behind him. "Happy starfall, brother."

Azriel’s eyes flared the moment they landed on Y/n

His body jerked lightly, as if it were trying to move towards her without command. The corner of his lips lifted as he began towards where she stood, frozen.

"Thank- thank you." Azriel mumbled softly to Cassian, who nodded, shooting Y/n a teasing smile. Azriel reached out to clasp his brother’s shoulder gratefully before he began down the steps towards her, the door closing behind him and giving the two a reprieve from the curious stares.

"Az." Y/n mumbled, her gaze fixed on his.

"Y/n." He whispered, his eyes tracing over her figure. "I… I’m sorry."

She shook her head. "Did you forget to tell me that we were having dinner with them?"

He swallowed. Nodded. His hands reached out to lightly caress her face, his shadows already twining around her fingers and hair. "I was in a hurry. And excited. And it is no excuse. Forgive me, love."

Y/n wrapped her arms around him, an involuntary sigh escaping her as her figure relaxed into her mate’s body. "It would have been nice knowing I was not going to have my mate all to myself, but… I forgive you, Az. It’s no big deal."

He scoffed, his arms winding tight around her. "The hell it isn’t."

Y/n huffed out a laugh, pulling back to search over his features. "So… you’re leaving now?"

He offered her a gentle smile. "No. Bullied Rhys into letting me stay till tomorrow."

Her heart soared, and she stepped out of his embrace, her hand’s clutching tightly at his forearms. "Really?"

He grabbed her jaw, pulling her into a soft, quick kiss. "Really."

"Let’s go home?"

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[katiascraft]

"Him" | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x bestie!reader.

Summary: Oblivious idiots to lovers. That's what Max said.

Word count: +2,7k.

Warnings: nooone just pure fluff and some language hehe. Not a native english speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: AAAAAAA i loved writting this one 🥹 Dont forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

“You only say that because you fancy him, y/n. You can't play with me”Max said out of nowhere while talking about the whole Lando drama and his fourth championship at Danny Ric’s house. Your three have been best friends for quite some time now. Actually, you have been friends with most of the grid for a couple of years now. They were like family to you and recently, you moved countries to live and study in Monaco and be able to spend more time with your friends.

“What have you just said motherfucker?” you acted offended. Nethertheless it took you by surprise that he said such a thing when you have never talked about Lando and your feelings for him with him nor danny. But Max knew you too well to already know the whole story. Of course Danny laughen and you could feel the heat going up your face. You feel exposed so you try to cover up by drinking another sip from your glass of white wine. You thank god it was in the privacy of Danny's house and not some random bar for everyone to hear.

“Oh c’mon y/n, i think it’s pretty too obvious by now” max continued noticing the panic and surprise on your face.

“Yeah, it is obvious and cute to see how you drool, staring at him everytime he talks. And not to mention you eat him alive at races when he is all sweaty -” danny continued the torture but you stopped them both making them laugh.

“Just stop!” you said “you guys are impossible!” your face was red and anxiety took over you for a moment.you sighed defeated. “To be honest with you, yeah, I do like him. But lets be real, im nt even his type at all” you said remembering how he was kissing magui, that model he fucks now and the, kind of a situationship, in front of your fucking face the whole night a few weeks ago. “And even as impossible as it sounds, if there was an actual chance for me with him, we wouldn't work either. I'm complicated. And he doesn't see me like that. He never did. And i'm sure that won't change like ever” you added just convince yourself of everything you said. It was impossible, right? There was no chance in this universe for him to see you like that. You are so far from what he used to date. It's just an innocent crush. You’ll meet someone,right? You saw Max denying with his head.

“y/n, i know you are not the most confident human being i know but be fucking for real, you are not complicated. And everything you said it's nonsense. You are fun to be around, you make him laugh until he pisses himself, you give him his favorite things, you bake him cookies and pies, you listen to him when he is sad, you are like the bestest person next to him. And let me tell you, I have no doubts he is into you as much as you are. It's in your eyes guys. You love each other more fondly than you want to admit” he said leaving you speechless for a moment and with a mess of confusion around your head. You wanted to believe him but at the same time you can’t.

“Mic drop, sir” Danny said and they both laughed. You smiled but rolled your eyes in disbelief.

“I wish” you finally said, making Max roll his eyes.

“Two oblivious idiots, can you believe it danny?” Max said ironically and Danny followed him.

“I see it mate. It's sad. I wanna cry” he said.

“You guys are impossible." You declared to go back to your trivial talk about cats and australia barbecue.

(...)

It was a beautiful saturday. You were thankful Ria said yes to accompany you to buy a new outfit for tonight's party. Martin Garrix was in town and lando invited you all to his friend's show. Coffees in hand, you were chatting about everything and anything.

“So the plan is a sexy outfit just to impress your boy?” she teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with the idea that I like lando? As if he would care what I wear or not” you said, a little irritated. You just wanted to conquer someone else tonight to forget about all of this and move one. You knew it was impossible that Lando liked you back so why be stuck in it? You were gonna dress up and doll up and conquer whoever you may please. That was your masterplan.

“Girl, you need to relax. I say it first hand: he cares a lot fucking much. He likes you. I just know.but you two are too dumb to accept it” she said raising her shoulders.

You felt so confused once again. These were Lnados friends who knew him just like you did. First it was Max and Danny and now it is ria. You didn't want to fool yourself. And at the same time you wanted him to know for the longest time. You wanted him to notice you. And you also knew him and you knew how he is with girls and if he liked you then he would've told you by now.

“Ria, dont play with me” you begged. Concern showed in your voice. She gave you a gentle hug by your side.

“I won't ever do that to you y/n. I would never in a million years forgive myself if I did. You're my friend and I just want you to be happy. Believe me” her voice was soft and sweet. You just smile and change the subject. You didn't want to discuss this anymore. Nor did you think you could handle it.

(...)

Saturday night finally came and so did the margaritas you so dearly adore when you needed to forget reality. You were pretty tipsy by now. You met Franco Colapinto and you didn't even know he was invited but oh god he was so fun to be around. You've Been talking to him the whole night about whatever to be honest.and yeah, he looked really hot tonight by the way. You felt lucky he even looked at you and so you followed around.

You bumped into Max at the bar table after ordering yet another margarita. He looked at you a little tipsy as well.

“So you replaced lando for an argentine prince, huh?” He teased you.

“Oh shut the fuck up verstappen. Were in public” you said going back to the barman who was handing you your precious margarita drink. He rolled his eyes.

“Be careful. Lando's not happy” he said and disappeared into the people holding his vodka with red bull. Weird mix but he was loyal to his employers i guess.

You came back to where Franco was waiting for you to be back. He looked so cute under the lights in that white shirt he was wearing. And speaking of white shirt you saw Lando talking to him. You cursed yourself right there. You may or may not have ignored him the whole night. But you just couldn't face him after what all your friends said. You just didn't want to be tempted by his pretty shiny green eyes and his mouth. Oh what you'd give up just to taste his lips.

“Oh there is the missing girl,” Lando said, looking at you when you arrived and smiling nervously. The tension established between you two even Franco noticed it.

“Guess it is my turn to go to the bar. Be right back, guys” he said and left the two of you alone. You took a sip from your glass avoiding his sight.

“What's wrong with you?” he said kind of offended? Anger could be clearly heard in his voice. You sighed not knowing what to answer.

“What do you mean lando?” you decided to play the fool. You wanted to run away. His eyes were intimidating you.

“One day we watch movies together and bake cookies and the other you ignore me for several days and even flirt with another dude straight to my face?” what he just told you took you by surprise. You frowned, confused at his statement. The tension was burning your throat. He got closer and so you finally faced him. You looked at him. His face straight and his eyes dark with a little sparkle. You couldn't read what was going on inside him. Maybe he was just as confused as you were. “You look too pretty in that dress to be talking to him and not me” you could breathe his warm breath tasting tequila mixed with lemon. You swallowed hard. Your insides exploded. what was happening? He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. His touch burns your skin sending shivers down your spine. This was actually happening? Your hands were shaking. You really thought about what to tell him. A devilish smile appeared in his face when he thought he left you speechless. But you weren't ready to let him win.

“Well, for your information, I'm single and I can talk to wherever my vagina pleases so that shouldn't be none of your business. Also, why would I talk to you if you have been talking with more than one girl tonight? I'm a selective lady. What can I say” you smiled innocently.

He bit his lip. He tightened his grip around you. More possessive. More irresistible. Your innocent smile turns into a triumph smile. ”so if you dont mind i’ll keep talking to Franco and luckly fuck him. Have a good night Landito” you said provocatively leaving lando hanging into his words as you pulled away and walked away from him. His brain is malfunctioning.

And as you promised you kissed and fucked Franco Colpinto that night.

(...)

It was already the next sunday and Lando had disappeared. There was nowhere to be found. He didn't reply to your texts nor your calls. He became just dead silent. That made you feel even more confused than you already were. What did it mean what happened at the party? What were his intentions? Why didn't you kiss him? You were torn into feeling guilty and stupid at the same time. Like you had an actual chance with him but you didn't take it. And you didn't even know why. You hated yourself so much for that. How stupid.

Max, Lando's best friend, invited you over along with Pietra and Lando. You were cooking some vanilla flavored cookies with chocolate chips. The famous crumble cookies. Lando has been pretty much ignoring you. And you have been really quiet. Very unusual both ways. The tension was irritating. Max and Pietra tried to play it cool but it was very uncomfortable. When Lando came back from the bathroom, Max took him into the terrace and you stayed with pietra inside in the kitchen doing your stuff.

“Babe, what happened between you two?” she sounded genuinely worried. You sighed stressed.

“To be honest with you, I don't know. After a weird moment at the party last Saturday, he has been ust ignoring me. I didn't know if he was even alive if Max didn't invite us here. Very childish in my opinion but what can I say? I Didn't face him either.” you explained and pietra frowned her eyebrows.

“You need to talk honey. You need to tell him” she said, sobbing in your arms. You pressed your lips together looking outside through the glass door straight to lando seriously talking to max.

(...)

After the worst and most traumatic hang around with Max and Pietra - the cookies were great by the way - Lando offered to give you a ride and you said yes. Probably the worst decision of your life because the tensi could be cut by a knife and it was hard to breathe of how dense the air was inside the car. His radio was playing Jmaes Blunt ‘you’re beautiful". It was one of your favorite songs. How pretty was to you to enamour someone just by existing in the subway going to work or going back from university. You just romanticized that idea. You started mumbling the lyrics in a whisper just to not disrupt his comfort. But after a few seconds he turned off the radio and you looked at him weirded out.

“I can't do this anymore,” he said, parking his car on the side of the road. Anxiety kicked you. You licked your lips looking at your hands and he was just starting to nowhere outside his car window.

“I really like you y/n. I am in love with you in fact. And dim so stupid i realized about it when i saw you with Franco kissing. His hands touching you grossed me out. It felt wrong because that should've been me - not him” he finally looked at you. What he just said took you by surprise and you wanted to cry but holded inside. You looked back at him. The knot in your throat was unbearable.

“We are idiots,” you said, remembering what Max said to you a couple of months ago.”Because I'm in love with you. I was too afraid to tell you and ruin what he had. Losing you terrifies me. And to be honest I just thought you wouldn't even look at me that way. I never felt pretty enough for you, I don't know why” when he heard you say that last sentence his heart sank.

“I always felt you were out of my league to be honest. Please, y/n, you're gorgeous, and funny as fuck, and intelligent, and sweet and such a great person. You're almost perfect. Don't ever talk about you like that. I'm just an idiot. A normal stupid ass dude. Don't compare yourself like that ever again” he said feeling a little guilty for you to feel that way even though it was not his fault.

You gave him a soft smile nodding.”you know? I can't believe every single friend of yours told me for months that you liked me and I just couldn't believe it. How dumb I gotta be. So I'll fight the intelligent compliment of yours” you said, making him laugh.

“But let's be honest, who thinks straight when they are in love?” he said with the most precious smile and sparkly eyes looking at you so fondly. You knew you had heart eyes in your eyes.

“Fair point” you said, smiling widely. And you giggled out of nervousness. He did too.

Two kids in love. You dreamed about this day for so many years. You just hoped that it wasn't another dream because it felt like one. And without asking, Lando took you out of your self doubt and inner conversion pressing his lips into yours in the most felt kiss you have ever given. The man that you are Lando norris. You cupped his face on your hands making the kiss more intimate and passionate. A kiss you two wanted to give for so long. You said everything in that kiss. You just knew this was it. This was the start of the most exciting and magical love story. And it was yours.

It was him. It has always been him. Lando. Your best friend. Him and no one else by your side.

(...)

Your eyes filled with tears of joy. You were at the wedding of one of your best friends: max verstappen. Lando was holding your hand gently and so dearly. They were speaking their vows and everything was so emotional. You were such a sensitive soul. Lando loved that about you. So pure in emotions. So vulnerable yet so strong and brave. That was you and watching the isle,he knew it was you who was gonna be there with him when the moment came around. The bride kissed the man and you two cheered the new wife and husband of the group. You looked at Lando for a moment knowing he was the love of your life and it was gonna be you two there one day.

What you did not expect was to take in your own hands the wife’s bouquet announcing you were next in line to get married. Youcelebrated in happiness and laughter around your friends and Lando. You kissed him so fondly.

“I love you bestie” you said between his lips grabbing him by the neck, the bouquet in one of your hands.

“I love you bestie, forever” he said with heart eyes hugging you looking at you with love in every fiber of his body.

“Forever and always” you assured him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any idea my inbox is open so send your requests!

[chrispleasure]

LISTEN, M.S

summary: you and matt get into a argument after both of you have had a hard day

warnings: hitting ( playfully ), crying, angst, swearing

not proofread!

“are you even listening to me? i told you to clean the dishes while i take a shower?” matt yelled, glancing at you from the bathroom door. your stood in the kitchen, wearing a pink crop top over a white long sleeve top beneath.

you had been having a bad day, and matt yelling just simply made it worse. you weren’t in the mood to argue, to wash dishes, or anything, really. “is this how little you think of me? that’d i would just flat out refuse to do dishes without a reason?” you raise your tone.

on the inside you were silently begging matt to come to his senses and drop it, but no, he had to keep going. “im just asking you to do something for once! this house is a mess!” he yelled before slamming the bathroom door to take his shower.

you knew that if he came out to the kitchen still dirty and the dishes unwashed, he would lash out. so, you stand infront of the sink, grabbing gloves and filling up the sink with warm water. you squirt some soap into the water and begin to wash the dishes.

each dish you cleaned felt like a chore, your arms dragging lazily. you were so fucking worn out from putting a happy face on all day. even matt didn’t notice.

after what felt too short, matt emerges from the bathroom in grey sweatpants and a white tank top. he walks over to you, standing behind you. he stays quiet, noticing you have only done seven dishes out of the twenty three sitting right there. “are you that slow?” he spoke, hitting your shoulder.

“im having a hard time right now-” he interupts you, “oh my god, i dont care! alright? just do the fucking dishes, fast.” he yelled, immediate tears fill your eyes and drip down your cheeks.

you rush to get the dishes done, you had no idea what has gotten into matt. but you knew for sure you hated this part of him.

he had been yelling at you for everything today, “just stop! matt, stop! fucking leave me alone!” you scream, finishing the dishes and turning around to face him, your wet gloves dripping water onto the floor.

“your making a mess! and you want me to leave you alone in my house? my fucking house? leave. leave right now.” he matches your tone, stomping his foot down.

more tears emerge from your eyes, he was making you leave? he had never done that before. “i-” you attempt to speak but he interupts you again. “pack your shit and go. get the fuck out of my sight!” he slaps your shoulder, not hard, like a playful slap, but still, it didnt help.

you take off your gloves and throw them onto the floor, storming up to the bedroom. you pack your necessities, which takes around twenty minutes. by the time you arrive downstairs to leave, he is sat down crying.

“baby- im.. im sorry.” he cried, calling out to you as you walk towards the door. “i didn’t mean anything i said. i was having a bad day too. i didnt mean it— i actually didn’t.” he sobs, his vision blurry.

you put down your bags, going over to the dining table and giving him a hug. “shh, okay? i got you, im not going. just— no more arguments. we can talk it out instead.” you say, rubbing his back. he nods, agreeing.

hashtags ꨄ

[st4r-th0ughts]

I’ll let myself get violent for you.

masterlist

Aventurine x gn bodyguard (ex assassin) reader

ʚɞ series masterlist

ʚɞ recommend to read first

ׂ╰┈➤

tw/cw: ambiguous relationship, violence, death, racism, aven’s past is brought up along with demeaning implications, reader protects our bbg bc we aint taking shi thrown at him, graphic descriptions, i dont have a single clue about poker so the terms are from google, also reader has fangs, not proofread!

note(s): it hurt writing this, also this isn’t my best work bc I rlly wanted to write this on a whim so sorry, tags: @walpurg @rxzennia @honkai-star-thirst @sh1-n0bu

summary: A violent dog that defends its owner.

(word count: 2.3k)

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The night in Pier Point is lively. Of course it would be, it housed the IPC’s headquarters, and by extension, a lot of the IPC employees, and many rich buisness people or people of similar standings often come to this planet, whether for deals are made under the table, for the most part, rather unimpressive but horrendously expensive cuisines, and for the casinos.

Casinos are Aventurine’s second home, with how often he’s there and how often he’s winning every single game he’s in, his name is a popular topic amongst the gossip girlies who sit at the bar and try to find a rich man to bed and siphon money from.

In the months you have been in Aventurine’s employment, you are very familiar with the bright chandeliers than hang above the large rooms, the roundtables often having people crowded around them, and the arcade machines have people either leaping for joy as they have won, or have people yelling in rage and trashing the area around them before being kicied out of security.

Aventurine gambles in those luxurious, private rooms with people of his stature. You accompany him without any complaint from the security at the zone, partially because you threatened the last security guard who tried to forcefully keep you from doing your job with shoving a heap of casino chips up his anus.

Aventurine always seats himself in one of the red cushioned chairs, his fingers will trace over the sleek black wood while your hands will be crossed behind your back, your form is situated right beside him, your presence serving as a warning for most intelligent people that you were not above violence when it comes to your job.

Every hour, the stack of chips in your boss’s name increases, to the point that it had to be transferred to another table from the staggering amount, the sight itself discouraging a few weak willed to give up and forfeit, while the rest will greedily gaze at the chips as if they were of pure gold, thinking they would definitely win them.

Eveyrtime you see one of those people again, you scoff internally and roll your eyes and give Aventurine a look, your lips will be pursed as the gambler grins back at you through rose tinted lenses. Aventurine plays for the thrill, the rest play for their own greedy desires.

At the end of the night, when the final card is played, Aventurine is always the winner. The people across from him are either resigned, regretful they didnt forfeit with dignity, some keeping their composure from crumbling as they struggle not to breakdown or rage, and the final, most unpleasant type of unsavory character you deal with, the ones who spew insults and make any menacing moves.

You never needed to use actual violence. Your hand slamming with controlled force on the edge of the table, just enough to tilt it and hit the ground with a resounding ‘thud’, your lips pressed into a tight scowl, and your gaze lingering on whoever dares make a move. It shuts them down successfully, no words or blows needed to be exchanged, and you get a teasing compliment from your boss, which makes your heart leap in its chest.

Tonight was suppose to be a regular a night. Aventurine was winning, per usual. But the man across him… the final player in the game, was someone you recognised from your assassin days. He wasn’t one of your targets, but when you were sneaking around mansion, you noticed him making shady deals with the Duke, overhearing that since they followed the same Aeon, they should join forces.

And that man was not a pleasant one. Middle aged and balding, a thick cigar in his mouth, the smoke making you turn your nose up while Aventurine seems unbothered, a pouchy stomach to add to his unpleasant smell of whiskey reeking off him, so much different from how your boss will cutely, drunkenly cling to you on rare occasions.

The moment Aventurine lays his cards on the table, the cards displaying those numbers and shapes you dont exactly understand despite months of trying to study poker techniques to impress the gambler, and the middle aged man in front of you goes into a stunned silence, his cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he gazes wildly at the fact he has lost, lost to some lucky dog from the IPC.

“This- this is rigged! You cheated! There is no way you could have won against me!”

Aventurine, calm and composed as ever, laughs at the man’s enraged state, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he crossed one leg over the other, a smirk gracing his expression as he teasingly tuts his tongue, your eyes widning slightly as your pupils dart between the growing fury of the middle aged man and the way Aventurine doenst care of provoking him.

“Oh? Y’know, if i got a million dollars for everytime i heard someone say that, I’ll be ri-”

“Shut up, you Sigonian dog!”

The way Aventurine’s smile falters slightly as his eyes widen behind his lenses, and the way he seems to remember something he doesnt want to, something he has long since tried to keep buried, and the bubbling fury that starts to simmer under the surface of your skin.

“You fucking Avgin scammer, you think i wont see your tricks and lies? Did you use that mouth of yours to weasel your way to winning?”

The man continues his profanity infused tirade, eyes darting wildly before they landed on the branding located on Aventurine’s neck, his chair screeching back, the whiskey smell assaults your nostrils as he walks around the table, and Aventurine, frozen, almost, just barely shrinks back out of instinct, a hint of fear in his eyes as the man’s hand reach out to try and grab your boss’s chin with his disgusting hands.

“Someone should teach you your place, little slave, someone like you doenst deserve to sit at this table.”

Your hand reaches out to grab the man’s arm before he could touch your boss, giving him a silent glare of warning, your hand clenching at it’s side. It does little to deter the man, as he balls his hand into a fist and punches you right in the face, your vision blurred for a few seconds though your grip doesnt loosen.

“So you’re the so called ‘fearsome bodyguard’ for the IPC, eh? You dont look like much other than a rabid dog.”

The man’s slurred sneer is cut short by his scream as in one, swift flick of your wrist, you snap his elbow in the wrong way. A fury bubbles in your chest, raw and ugly as you send a hard kick to the man’s pudgey stomach with the tip of your shoe, watching him kneel over and cough blood from the sheer force, you make sure it only gets on your uniform instead of Aventurine’s.

Your hands reach out to grab the man’s neck, tossing him effortlessly against one of the tables across the room, the others who were staring wide eyed at the scene panicking as champagne glasses shatter as they rush out of the room or scoot to a corner to keep watching the show. It sickens you, how they see this as a type of entertainment, but you have more important things to deal with.

You growl lowly, your primal instincts of carnage taking over, grabbing the man from the middle of the broken table as coloured wooden shards are embedded in his back, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth and nose, your face edging to the side, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

“Do you believe in Aeons?”

The man is clearly terrified, considering someone who is half his size has not only given him a broken nose and elbow, that same person just tanked a hard hit to their nose with no substantial damage. Yet, he foolishly tries to intimidate you, and you can feel Aventurine’s gaze on your back, in your haze of anger, you can’t figure out whether he’s staring at you in fear or something else.

“Hah, you’re defending that Sigonian pig so nobly? Do you know who I a-”

You slam him into the floor, your sharp teeth baring as you tighten your grip, only needing your non dominant hand to hold him down, your other hand brandishing a gun that cocks under the man’s jaw, your voice soft, deceptively so, with a undercurrent of threat. Blood trickles from your nose onto the man’s shirt.

“I dont give two shits who you are. I don’t give a damn of what Aeon you worship. Divine judgement doesnt scare me at all.”

“Your Aeon can look me straight in the eyes, asking me why I decided to pull the trigger and let your brains paint the wall behind you right now, I’ll proudly tell THEM I’ll do it again.”

You snarl scathingly, your fingers digging into the skin round the man’s neck. Your enveloped in a shadow of your past. Violence was all you ever knew for a long time, and after meeting Aventurine, resolving to not work for the Annhilation Gang anymore, you have tried hard to pacify your temper. And now, you’d gladly make this pig, and the people who are staring, almost anticipating your next move, as your outlets.

He looks pathetic, in all honestly. The man below you, one you used to stay away because he was in cahoots with eth Duke, was now at your very mercy, currently looking paled and about to have a heart attack, yet still keeps up the act of being all high and mighty. He doesnt know nor remember you, but you’ll make sure he does.

“You really are just the IPC’s pathetic dog, arent you? Defending some Sigonian slave because he sucks you off?”

A single shot rings out as the man lets out a cut off noise, one eye popping out of it’s socket as pink, fleshy brain matter and crimson blood soak the room’s walls, one of the women huddled in the corner screaming in terror as you feel the blood splatter across you face, mixing with your own, watching the man’s body convulse. If he had just shut up, you would have let him go. Oh well.

You get up and smoothen your clothes, red soaking into your tie, your eyes casting upon the group in the corner who were watching the entire ordeal play out. The room is deathly silent as you take one step closer, your gun still smoking at the tip.

“Leave.”

That single word sends everybody save for Aventurine scrambling, and the security guards who take one step in immediately shrink back when they see the carnage that has befalled the room. Your breathing is shallow and ragged, your eyes darting from the corpse to Aventurine, who stares blankly at the floor. You’re able to discern that internally he’s distraught, and you start to panic.

Was he disgusted with your actions? He wasnt supposed to see you like this. Like a vicious predator that gnaws and rips apart it’s prey. It feels as if the months of trying to control your temper, prevent and restrain your intent to shed blood and bathe in the crimson, but it seems in the end, there was only one thing that makes you snap.

“Sir. Sir, are you alright?”

You’ll have your existential crisis later, now, your instinct makes you want to comfort Aventurine, but when your hands reach out to try and touch him, you freeze before your fingers can reach for his, staring dumbfoundedly at the blood that soaks them. The corpse behind you is completely still, blood pooling under his head.

You blink once, twice, before settiling for holding the armrest of the chair, since at least the blood wont be too visible on the dark paint, watching Aventurine carefully, observing how he straightens his glasses, laughing softly, clearly forced in a attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m fine, [𓏵], afterall, my darling bodyguard has protected and taken a hit for me once more~”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Your words come out snappy, leftover adrenaline from having killed someone after so long making your heart pace faster, giving your boss a firm glare, not a harsh one, just one that makes him stop putting up that false wall of bravado. You close your eyes when his smile drops at your irritated tone, your blood trickling into your mouth as you sigh.

“I saw the way his comments affected you. I wont pry why he was making those comments, it isnt my business. But my business, is making sure you feel safe.”

You wipe your hands on your pants as you gently take Aventurine’s trembling hands into your own, staring at your reflection in the polished gold of the rings, seeing the blood that spaltters across your features, and the bruise that is forming on your nose from the punch. You widen your eyes a little as the gambler’s hand pries away from yours, his fingers running gently over your face.

“You’re hurt, [𓏵]. I’ll bring you to the medical wing later.”

Aventurine murmurs softly, his smug front gone as he lets himself be just a bit more vulnerable as his hand traces your jaw tenderly, his mouth downturned as he stares at your bruised nose and all the blood, his eyes trailing behind you to the corpse, a piece of brain matter splatting on the floor as your boss smirks slightly.

“I’ll pay for a cleanup crew. I’m not letting my precious bodyguard go to jail tonight.”

You snort softly, walking over to the table full of casino chips, a low whistle escaping as you take one that sits at the top of one of the stacks, fiddling with it clumsily in your hands, glancing at the manager of the casino that was standing hesitantly at the entrance of the room door.

“Cash these in, will you?”

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

[mattsnight]

I dont care - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which y/n and Matt take a shower after sweating at a party all night.

Warnings: drunk, shower sex, use of y/n

A/N: kinktober fic 5! I hope yall like it make sure to check out my others❤️

Not proofread!!

Honestly, it wasn’t even fun. This “party” you were at was full with drunk people and you felt disgusted. Your hair was a complete mess and your outfit was sticking to your skin. Matt was with you and he felt the same way about himself. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he wasn’t enjoying himself at all.

When you got invited to this party it was clear on the invitation that there was no alcohol, just a cute party to get to know new people in the town. I guess some of them didn’t get the point of it.

You and Matt were both taking your last drink when suddenly an extremely drunk man approaches you. He stares you up and down, not even caring you notice how he’s definitely checking you out. Matt’s blood starts to boil as he grabs your hand. “She’s with me.” He says as his grip on your hand tightens. The man doesn’t back off at first, but then when Matt glares at him he doesn’t hesitate to get away from you.

“Fucking gross.” Matt lets out a deep breath he was holding. He gulps his drink down before taking your hand and leading you outside. You groan as your legs slowly start to give up. You have been wearing these big heels all night and it was hurting your feet. Matt notices and pulls you into his arms, holding you in bridal style. “Matt! Im gross right now, don’t—“ You whine as Matt just keeps walking.

“I don’t care, princess. I’ve seen worse.” He says smirking down at you. A wave of heat washes over you as your cheeks slowly turn red. Matt gently places you in the passenger seat before walking over to the driver’s seat. He puts on his seatbelt before driving off to his house.

When you arrive at his house you are met with his brothers Nick and Chris watching spongebob on the tv. You wave at them before making your way into Matt’s room, taking off your heels and dress immediately. You can hear Matt say something to his brothers before walking into his room to be met with you in your underwear. He’d seen it a lot of times, but it still could get him hard and you wearing that red lacey set wasn’t helping.

“Jesus… you look gorgeous.” He says, hands already on your sides tracing slow circles. You smile at him before giving him a soft kiss on the lips. He returned it immediately before pulling you closer. “Babyyy.. im still sweaty.” You sigh as his lips trail down your neck, not seeming to care about your state. “Can we at least do this in the shower?”

You knew it was going to be a long night, proposing this idea, but you didn’t mind. You were so happy to notice Nick and Chris left for bed already, otherwise they’d definitely would’ve heard both of you in the shower.

Matt has you pressed against the cold wall as his hands are everywhere on your body. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as his hardness slides against your folds. His lips are on your tits, swirling slow circles with his tongue around your nipple. You’ve always known Matt was a tits guy, because he never seems to get enough of them.

He pulls back after a while, proudly admiring all the hickeys he left all over you. His hands move to your clit, rubbing gentle circles before lining himself up at your entrance. A loud gasp escapes your lips. He pushes himself into you slowly.

A second later he’s moving faster and harder into you. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as you get lost in pleasure. “Fuck baby.. so fucking good f’me, yeah?” Matt groans as he takes you against the wall, practically slamming into you. His thumb is still rubbing circles around your clit, getting you on edge quickly.

“M-Matt im gonna cum..” you moan out as your walls start to clench around him. Then suddenly a large wave of pleasure washes over you, making your legs tremble. Matt comes quickly after that, shooting his load inside of you. Both of you are left panting.

After a few good minutes he slowly pulls out of you, making you wince. “Shh.. it’s okay, princess.. did so good.” He makes sure to wash your hair and your body before getting out of the shower. He helps you get comfy into your shared bed by pulling you close to him.

He doesn’t care how you look right now, all sleepy and completely drained, he just loves you because you’re you.

[marvelstan0905]

"Trust me, you're not heavy"

Boyfriend!Kenji Sato X FEM!Chubby/Plus Size! Reader

TW : insecurities regarding weight/fluff/wholesome/stammering/picking up/angst/slightly new relationship/comparison/lewd joke at the end/not proofread yet/ mixed POV

-Hi. This is for comfort. Mostly for me,because I am on the thicker side and these are thoughts that have coursed through my mind. If you will be triggered please don't go beyond the line. I am a Female/AFAB so it will be with she/her pronouns! I'm still gonna write other scenarios with GN readers in mind! Thank you for the love and support😘

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

Today was a relaxing day. A chill day from all the chaos that both me and Kenji had been going through. We were relaxing together at Kenji's house. My legs laid on his lap as I sat across from him on the couch. We were watching a movie occasionally being on our phones. Kenji put down his phone and looked at me thoughtfully.

"Hey baby?" Kenji started hesitantly as he took my hand and gently put my phone down. I hummed and smiled giving him my attention. "Can I ask why you don't let me pick you up or sit in my lap?"

I froze. I expected the question but I didn't really expect the question so soon ant so abruptly. I looked away from Kenji, clearing my throat.

"W-What do you mean, baby?" I cleared my throat and withdraw my legs from his lap hugging my knees. Kenji's eyes softened in concern as he observed your tense and almost, hiding body language.

"Well..baby we've been dating for quite a while yet you've never sat in my lap or let me pick you up. If I try to pick you up, you squirm away and stiffen up...did I do something to make you uncomfortable?" Kenji spoke sincerely as he gently took ahold of my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. His beautiful mauve turquoise eyes held concern and guilt. I felt bad.

"N-No. Of course its not you, baby. It's me, really. I..I dont even know where to start really" I breathed with a nervous laughter. I played with his soft but calloused hands. Kenji felt relieved but it still didn't exactly explain why. He wouldn't pressure his girl to talk about it but they had great communication.

"Well you know,you can tell me anything. I'd never judge you. You're the perfect specimen to me" Kenji added with conviction and genuineness. I blushed and shook my head.

"I know that, my love. You'd never judge me. It's just..I'm not exactly small, you know? I don't weigh like 40kgs and stuff like that. Plus I've never really been lifted up or put my whole weight on someone, if that makes sense? Like for trustfall exercises at school, I never got a turn or piggy back rides. Stuff like that..I know it's stupid" I rambled whiles touching my head. I tugged on my sweater sleeves. Kenji's eyes softened and hardened at the same time, he was was quite upset people treated you that way. "Even if someone did volunteer they'd be huffing and puffing or straning. So I'd prefer if you didn't get a hernia or something like that picking me up"

"Welk to start baby, fuxk those people who treated you like that. I'd like their names and Instagram handles..Number 2. It doesn't matter that you don't weigh 40kgs or whatever. That's actually unhealthy but anyways. I don't care if you're not small. Just means there's more to touch and feel on" Kenji smirked whiles groping my pudgy love handles. I giggled and pushed his hands away causing him to chuckle.

"Babe. It's not stupid at all. Trust me, I won't get a hernia or huff or puff, okay? I'm an athlete, I play a sport which requires a great deal of strength. I probably lift weights heavier than you. Even if you weighed 6000lbs I'd glad pick you up and put you in my lap and arms"Kenji assured me whiles he pulled me closer and held my hands.

"I know it's scary but please trust me. I think you're the most beautiful girl ever. With all cute abundance as well. It means I get a marshmallow and extra softness to cuddle, okay?" Kenji smiled and stood up pulling us both to our feet. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Can we try it? I promise I won't drop you or strain? I'm not fragile, my love. I won't break if I pick you up. Come on your dating the Ken Sato. Believe when I say you're not heavy at all"

Kenji was convincing but I was still anxious. I really didn't want to be embarrassing or scarred for life...again. I didn't want to witness my boyfriend struggle under my weight but then again, he was right. He did lift weights far heavier than me. His half alien self did have that extra strength and power. I looked up at him and Kenji gave me the puppy eyes and the pout. I groaned and sighed, he really did look like a kicked puppy. "Please princess of mine, please. Trust me?"

"Finnnne. I'm being serious, baby. I'm trusting you. J-Just a minute, okay?" I stammered anxiously. Kenji's smiled brightened up and without a second of hesitation, his large hands wrapped around my thick thighs and picked me up without a struggle or hassle. My instant reaction was to push him away and stiffened up, but I took a deep breath. Kenji wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands laid comfortably under my thighs. I looked at him expecting a tomato face or something but he seemed..fine. Genuinely content and happy as he rocked from side to side slowly.

" Look at that..I'm not huffing or puffing. Neither am I crumbling. See ,baby trust me. You're as light as a paperclip to me. I can toss you around like a ragdoll if I wanted" Kenji shrugged with a triumphant smirk as his hands climbed up and onto my rear. I flushed and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still a lot to get used to but I really liked this. It was nice."Feels good, huh? Plus you're all nice and close to me. I get to kiss you more too"

Kenji spoke softly whiles his lips peppered kisses all over my face. Small flustered giggles left my lips as I leaned into his affection.

"Guess I was too anxious. Thank you, baby. Means alot that you're patient like this. The reassurance means alot as well" I say softly whiles nuzzling my cheek against his cheek. Kenji hummed in satisfaction as well nuzzling against me as well.

"This is nothing, baby. I just wanted you close and for you to be more comfortable in your own skin. I love you so much. All of you. In and out, okay? In fact, I'd like to add to all that chubbiness. Just make you eat even more" Kenji murmured whiles kissing my cheek continously. I giggled and shook my head. We stood like this for a few minutes in a comfortable silence as we exchanged kisses and nuzzles. It was so nice and intimate. The once nervous and anxious air from before seemed to have dissipated as we cuddled in content.

"You know this means I can eat you out in the air now" Kenji murmured with his cheek restint against my head. I clicked my tongue, with a flustered gasp and gently pinched his chest. "Ow! What? Wishful thinking..you know? A little manhandling..come on you know you want to?"

"Kenji Sato!"

"Okay..Okay..I'm sorry..maybe we can try the butterfly position now-"

Thwack

"Ow!O-Okay. Okay. I'm sorry, babygirl. We can talk later hmm?"

[gavisfanta]

gavi with a breeding kink aftet seeing you playing with his nieces and nephews (for the sake of this just pretend like he has some) 😮‍💨

BEDTIME - GAVI

summary: gavi and you are babysitting and after you put the kids to bed gavi tells you about his desire

a/n: changed it a bit, hope you dont mind anon

warning: smut, not proofread

"I think it's slowly time to go to bed." You mumbled while you stared at the small boy infront of you.

You and Gavi had to babysit some family friend's kids. Because they didn't want you to be alone and lonely while the kids sleep they asked you to invite Gavi too.

So now you were done playing with them and it had turned 8pm.

"Okay." The younger boy nodded his head. He was around the age of 5, but the girl who was 8 and very distracted by the tv didn't wanna go.

"Can I stay here?" She asked and looked at you.

"No, come on it's time for bed." You stood up while Gavi remained sitting on the sofa. She looked at the spanish midfielder and then stood up.

"Can you come with me?" Maria asked and then Gavi flashed you a quick smile.

"I'll put them both to sleep, don't worry." Gavi winked at you and you still followed him upstairs. The younger boy whose name was Ale ran to his room which was right next to Marias, the girls.

Maria was obsessed with Gavi the second she saw him. She literally played with him all day and when the two of you sat down outside in the garden she even kissed his cheek.

You knew that she had that one little girl crush on your boyfriend like the one you always had on the lifeguards at the beach.

Trying to impress them when you had no chance due to them being 3 times your age. But you rather considered it cute, you also thought about it that a long time ago, you used to be like that too.

Ale also loved Gavi, but he liked you a bit more, however when it came to playing football he of course chose Gavi.

And after Gavi managed to put the kids to sleep he made his way downstairs again.

So sitting on the couch, complete silence in the house, Gavi turned to you.

"That was awesome of you, I didn't know you were that good with kids." Gavi smiled at you and your cheeks started to color themselves red.

"I don't know" You shrugged your shoulders, Gavi then got closer to you and leaned to your neck.

"Imagine if those were our children. Imagine you with a baby inside your belly," He paused for a second." my baby." Gavi whispered against your neck. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine and his hands started roaming your body.

"Fuck." You muttered under your breath as you threw back your head and Gavi started planting sloppy kisses along your vein on your neck.

He then pulled away after some time snd you two made eye contact. Without a thought your lips collided into eachother and started moving at a fast pace.

Eventually you sat into his lap, feeling the tent in his joggers. Then he pulled away.

"You really wanna do it in here?" Gavi raised his brows while he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You turn me on, I can't wait for them to get home with my dick hard." Gavi whispered aggressively and you shook your head while smiling a little.

"You're an idiot." You stood up for a second so that he could take off his boxers and sweatpants.

"Take off your pants, if so, we won't have much time to get changed." Gavi nudged his head towards you and you also took off your pants, leaving you only in your red thong and him with nothing covering his lower body.

"You wanna have my babies amor?" Gavi teased. You felt your arousal getting hotter when he looked up at you, walking over to him and sitting down on his lap, a thin and wet piece of fabric separating you two.

However, you didn't wait long until you lifted up your hips and then Gavi pulled down his shorts to his knees. His hard dick basically jumping out of his boxers, standing tall below your core. Gavi then grabbed it and with his other hand he rubbed his fingers along your folds. You whimpered at the touch and you slowly slid down his dick, Gavi holding it at the bottom to stabilize it.

"I'm gonna give you so many children, you'd look so hot pregnant." Gavi whispered into your ear. You whimpered quietly as he then grabbed your hips and moved you up and down carefully, slow at first and then his pace speeding up.

A light and silent sound of skin clapping against eachother lingered around in the room. The only thing you prayed for was that the children wouldn't wake up.

You accidentally moaned loudly to which Gavi responded with sticking two of his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around them, wetting them in your Salvia. His hand then slipped down to your clit and started rubbing it in figures of eight.

You moaned against his skin as you lowered your head into the crook of his shoulder.

He kept thrusting up into you until your legs began to shake and the warm knot in your abdominal kept growing. Gavi noticed the way you clenched around him and only fastened his pace.

Eventually you both came, his dick shooting ropes of his cum into your pussy as you sunk down on him, moaning and whining.

Hs threw his head back as he tried to catch his breath. "You gonna have my children hm?" He asked, he was so drunk from the orgasm that he forgot that you're on birth control. But maybe he just ignored it.

"Now let's get you cleaned up without waking up the children." Gavi said after a few minutes.

As you two cleaned up a bit and got dressed you sat down on the couch again and only 15 minutes later your family's friends came home.

"Thank you so much for paying attention to the kids." The mother thanked you two as you stood at the door.

"Oh no worries at all." You smiled and the both of you then went to the car.

"I just hope the kids wont tell her about the noise the monster under her bed made." Gavi joked and you gave him a weird look.

"What noise?" You knitted your eyebrows together and the next second Gavi started to intimidate you moaning. You immediately smaked his chest with your hand and looked the other way while he kept laughing.

"You're my favorite monster, if that makes you feel better."