#AND THE FACT SHE HAS A CLEAR VISION OF WHAT THEY ALL LOOK LIKE AND THE PHOTO SHOWS THEIR PERSONALITY SAYS A LOT OF WHAT SHE HAS SEEN IN THE

[m-ac-m]

1.

I keep writing, rewriting, re-editing. Thinking, rethinking, adjusting. Even now. Even today. Even tomorrow. Just as I shrink beneath your sight.

One step forward, two steps - where? I'm lost in following the path, I'm afraid. One look behind - how am I here? Why did my _mappins_ (oi, gamedev people) disappear?

All this time, frozen, in my pre-produced smile. Please, please world - stop spinning. Just stop spinning for a while.

I try to silence her, I do. To make her traces disappear. But she insists on coming through. She won't go quietly, I fear.

Now there's You - waiting - for my sanity to come. For my mask that hooked you in, one I try to overcome.

For my cool, sardonic smile. For my well-timed lifted brow. For all my words, thinly-veiled affection, masquerading as sarcasm, humor and deflection.

(Just so I don't scare you away with this. Lucky you. I wish I had an editor to shield me from myself too.)

All my insecurities - edited - cut - clean correction, right into the required adult, stoic perfection.

Here, I unravel. The previous form is gone. My thoughts? Left free to travel. My soul laid bare below.

I'd love to be a child once more, just trying, tasting words out loud. Testing the waters before I plunge in, to find out: Am I insane? Or am I really bright? Should I jump back in, just once more? Risk my pride? For the visions that feed my heart, my soul, my core? But then - where on earth do I hide? Am I "me" anymore?

Please, please go quietly. You - get - to close your eyes. And I'll just keep on living with the part of me that dies.

I look inside and question, ask:

is "what it takes" within, in fact? Or was it all just play-pretend? Has it all been my clever act?

Questions thrown - into the little black hole of my own.

The young-me feels like a time wasted, lost. Emotionally dead, unresponsive ghost. Did the "now" demand it? The emptiness? The cost? When in the end - I - am the one we both needed most?

I do not know what alt-future could bring. But hey - for what I have, right now - I'll give up anything.

Still, I'd hate to let her slip away - hate to watch her die. Hate to break her heart - AND mine. With all her pain and all my fear - together, we can persevere.

And then, there's this - she's still inside. The past self I'm growing out of - my pain, my shame, my pride. New branches feeding off her broken, feeble roots. Her dreams, her beliefs, her wants - hardening into absolutes.

She won't go quietly. Won't let me bury her inside. And that is good - she knows best. She's the better part of mine.

2.

Rejection - with teeth

Oh dear Lord. Give it to me, please.

I want your god-like bite in me. I want myself to disappear.

I want you - your teeth to sink right in. and me - myself - my faults - no longer here.

Give me this break. Please, love. It spins too much. Even if I find pauses like the one here, as such.

(man, I'm such a fucking catch.) If it hurts

on my terms

Does it hurt as much?

3.

Well, I guess, you're not gone. Or pissed. Or thrown. Or even just checked out

look, love. Me? I'm - Am I? God, dear Am I now found out?

I think, I shrink, I cry - I die? Has it just been all you - all the while?

No- I've been crazy way longer than this. Way longer than you. What have you missed? The past- it will have to sit - sit quietly with that.

But you - the part of which I'm so, so proud. So please. Please let me in. Straight in, today - right through the crowd.

And yet. Somehow, someway I know - fear? - that's how you'll go away.

Or stay? And then, oh dear, oh God, - then pay? To let this live without a loss. A final one. Cut clean - straigh across. I'll have to pay. I will. Cover the cost.

But hey, dear. I'll surely test this still. To break things while I can - until - Until you see me in the clear And ask - "hey, there are you mental, dear?"

Before I figure myself out. Before I kill the in-brain crowd.

And please, dear love - stay with me still. The "life", the "real" - I'll get the bill. And then, in shame - see myself out? I'm sorry - where? here? You had to find out.

Then - then I do not have words. No, never. I just lie there - waiting to close my eyes forever.

But here - right here - here I can rest. On your beloved - Your - beloved chest.

Then, please let your heartbeat say- You're free. You're full. You're safe. And hey love - that is what fixes me of late.

But now - back to you, if I may. Darling. Love. Boyfriend? Yeah? Alright? Ok? Please - pardon my intensity. I've only ever dealt with this in real low-human density.

Estonia-level. Please, please hold on there. Hold on there forever. Please - if only, this doesn't just burn.

All in all - I don't know how I got in here. I'd rather be with you. Just resting, empty-headed brain, Left to humm - not scream - just safe. So safe there, saved from all my pain.

Again. We meet in the clear. My dear.

But for these - Me-filled, putrid, honest breaks. For all that aches. You need to train. So I won't break you - won't break you ever again.

Then the goth-ier self in me, the one that wants to die -

-No.-

No, never with you. No, never with you in sight.

I'll shield you from this image - love, if I only might. And then please - you just hold me. Please, please hold me tight.

Love, even if it's true. And even if I'm right. And even if it's new. Love please - still hold me tight.

How I got here? I don't know.

My feet don't follow where I go. Let's see - see where my dice is thrown.

But I do want this. A reflection in his eyes. These eyes of his. Let me break it down - break down all of this. (I'm broken enough to reject food and sleep

- but in fact still well enough to see us - as I weep.)

We're both - both green-eyed monsters. But God. So different in the end. Don't know why you would love me. I can't even pretend.

You see me in my scariest phase. Face away. So lord, god, please - so it won't stay. Right there, in here, - in your brain Or even worse, love - in you heart.

One thing that could break us apart. . But I'm still here - all my awful parts. The parts that hurt - "the parts in arts".

Here - please, please - love - now you come through. Just do. I need your voice, your presence - you.

Ah. Yes. You. Much more than elsewhere, More then you've ever been, love. Been what then? Where? What of?

To let myself feel different. More adult. So I stop going in - stop joining the cult.

A version smoother, easier, simpler - and intact. But that love, my dear? Heh. That was just an act.

I'm so sorry, reader. If you were waiting for a breather. Not that, not a break - not end. None coming neither.

It asked me - begged me. To refrain. To find a better way through pain.

But how? My love, my pain, my pride. Do I just simply watch you die?

And here? Here we are so near. And my problems - dear God. Finally in the clear.

With a different one, much more random and deeply, deeply lost Handsome, random and lost? Give me that right there. (at what cost?)

(Then - who am I kidding. I really don't care. Problem is - fuck it. I love you more - and then I dare - Dare to challenge, to fight, no flight. Challenge them, challenge all that's in sight. Never ask again who's right. And then? We go. Then we _both_ bite. Bite into the future that's written for me. Blind to the truth that's hidden within.)

You've sunk too deep in me - my heart, my bones, my core. Also through this - this content - this message I bore. So please, love, try to understand - why my soul is sore.

This will never disappear. If there's a part of us still here.

It feels so sad. Trying, panicking. To edit the crazy out.

It's mad. But then, I'm glad.

Glad that I'm curating this. Throughout. Through all my pain and tears. Glad that all my thoughts are now neat and clean. But all the crazy is still here- All capped and wrapped. But then, my dear, still me

I didn't disappear.

Still, then, I'm dying, love, I am afraid. As I see myself, unseen. But as you see me see myself out. You did it! You figured me out!

But I need strength. Your help. Your aid.

I'm dying in my quiet self.

I'm dying in the crowd.

And God, just once. I hope you're proud.

I said your name there. Said you name out loud.

4.

But, love, is it good? Is the voice worth hearing? I - my soul - my core - my whole- All it ever could be? All there of me, there - in it? Stupidly endearing? Love, or just -

Hear me out, dear.

Dramatically fearing?

Is the message -in your clear, dear. open ears- Clarifying? Open? Clearing? Or eaten by fears?

And its core - core - the truth I try to grant you. Not perform.

But then, truely - feeling No, it's not vanity. Know this. Or power, or control.

God, please. Please, let me out of this.

This ever eating hole.

Don't let me be the end of his. When all I want is -

Ha!

God, all I want is him in this. In all my pain and all my fear, But, please. Don't let this die- don't let him near.

Words spill and flow. Some place, some space. With grace, tho, no chase. Away they go.

And I still pray. For you to stay. (and please, don't throw my thoughts away.) For him - to never disappear. To rest my head and hold him near.

I had a perfect phrase to close. Cool, calm, collected - just that, one of those.

That terminator broke - confined, then cried and died. But then, to be fair - did he put up a fight? Or even try? Well, he just still might.

I eyed him down and watched him break. (Just as my heart is still in ache. For when I look down, love, down here - why did your hands just disappear?)

A worthy opponent there, though, all in all. Now - smile, win, own it, this thing as a whole.

Words won't end this here for us. Just couldn't break my heart of glass. Wouldn't let me free of all my pain These pointless things I feel. Please stop. Learn some restraint.

But words are spilling on their own. How? I swear, I do not know. The "Her" - she must have sadly grown. Into a scary force in here. A fearless presence of her own.

And in her power, With her sharp, poetic spear. Do I cower? Die? Or just disappear?

To kill her - the inner voice tempts me to go there. But I know I don't want to close that. I'm just getting to know her. To see where we're at.

5.

I hate this feeling of remorse.

When I tell him.

Throw him off - show him. Hey - I'm here. I'm even worse.

(Where, again, dear? Where is now our course? - in here?)

Worse than whatever has - so far - transpired. Worse than what I whispered - but, love, I was so tired. Worse than what you saw in me - my frame, my pain, and - why was I desired?

She lingers in the back. With notes. And god. A better rack. And quotes.

She knows me well

I couldn't tell how deep she goes how much she knows.

But then - I love you more than her. I had to let this slip in there.

She won't go quietly. Ha! Not at all, I fear. But by now it's us.

Fearfully, painfully, alas…

(I'd add a comment here, for me. but dear, it's just so crass, I fear where would the right place be in here For a comment - God - comment about an ass. So, instead, a proud _alas_.)

So let's just savor, feel this moment, Let's not just let it "be". Let us watch it go free, there - uncuffed. In our first try - I fear we got the shaft.

Now. It's me and her. (And you?) Our little hell. (For two?) Are we a pair? (We are - I swear) It's hard to tell. (Nah - easy. We're swell.)

Here, watch her go. Watch her in our fire. We won't burn with her.

Now. Brain please. Please. I am so, so tired. Let's end this dance. Our deadly stance. Let love and peace and silence there. Inside? Where I have no room, no room to hide. Come, please - please all of you- come in. Peace, love and silence- let us all commence - embrace and face ourselves within.

You're gone now. Thanks. The silence? Bangs. Gone. Disappeared. All turned off now. Fired? If not - then still, away, away you go. Please go, dear? Right away love? Get fucking rewired.

I twirl into this masquerade thing of asking - pleading - masking. And pleading. Or silently leading?

And in this effort - searching, still. It's taxing. and man I'd love, I'd love to kill.

(not actually - to clear things up.

it's just a saying that we've got)

And through my chaos (that's what's cutting through) Am I bleeding? Am I ill? Or am I just right back here? With you? Am I coming to?

All set up here - not to fail. And there, I guess - that's my refrain.

Again, in pain. Dear lord. Not again. In pain I re-register all my thoughts to see them. Better. Simpler. Brighter.

For lack of better words - just - righter.

Just not to be made. And my love? - it's great

You - just let me keep this costume on, dear

-Then still. Don't let the mask yet disappear. Don't see me bare. I love you, dear. I'm more than her. I need you here.

And if you care. Please, hold me still.

6.

K. I asked for rhymes for "funny". What I got in return?

You catch your breath there. Your breath is needed, I swear. You hold this close. Hold – and try to cherish her.

Then wait your turn. Then go – Go! – fire and burn.

Give me – us – a solid run. Go on dear. Go on – for us, for me – my Lord.

Then make us race. And what against? There’s so much pain in me to face.

But still, give it to me. A quick run for my money. As if you hate me. My love, my dear. My “unfunny.”

(Um, like someone pays me for these bursts of soul and heart, and pain. When you – all of you – just wanted me to be plain.

That - try to explain.)

But then, back to the topic. What I got in return? What rhymes with "funny"?

“unfunny” Kay. That trip was idiotic.

That input – indeed, for me tho, has been great. Let’s hope it doesn’t eat away the _nothing_ I ate.

7.

I think it's a meltdown that I'm going through. but ping me, call me - for my curtsy cue.

It's the one that thrills. Or kills. But somehow ills?

I know it's this or that or that. Intermission? God. Then revulsion? Regret?

I pause. I revel in my flaws.

Me - I just don't want to say goodbye. To this freedom or this cage. In verse - a sigh - a fully written page. I live, I cry, I laugh, I die. In here - my cage - I want to age. God, please, step away - I have to try.

(Oi, Hemingway, the pain? - I see you. Hopefully just in the rear view mirror. Hopefully yesterday - so still, we can fix me? Hopefully never - but what would my fix be??)

Hopefully - Dear - I will correct this. In pain - and in growth. I know I can make it. Not to follow this path. Not faithfully. Not his. In all the cost and penance that I owe. And all the paths that let me -made me- grow. What made me write this. Put forward my oath. So I can live through this - live this for us both.

As for our bodies - our dreams - just put on a cloth.

(yes, the sex cloth. That's what I'm speaking of. To let us slip away, my love. Answer the call. Into my darkness - Ernest, let's safely go.)

The words just come here on their own. I try to stop them. They won't go.

I was happy. I cooked, I cleaned. And in that, God, in that still, still, I live.

But what if I've built a heaven, just for me. To let my faults, my hopes, my pain - just disappear?

Still. Still. Please hold me through. As I reach- grasp - for this glass of truth.

Here love - I'll swallow my pride. My dear, if you'd be so kind. I'll push through for strength, for truth. For light. Please love - search for me - search for me alive.

8.

Is it ok then? To force him into being my haven?

Or - come on, second me - morally hazy? Cause him? I know. He'll show up. He'll happily meet my crazy.

He'll carry with me all my crap. Am I leading him into a trap?

(And Lord - and love - am I still up? Or did I slip into a dream. Where I'll be trapped. For this. For him.)

69.

I need to rest. Head on your chest. But how? And - now?

How do I crawl back out of this? From hell - how can I get to bliss? How do I wake up - true love's kiss? But dear, it's dark. What if you miss?

(Yes, I hear you. With every bullet so far. In clever comments, you're my star.)

I might be too broken, I fear. To finally meet him there in the clear. To meet you somewhere near, my dear.

Near - where - what - sanity? (Ha! - well - hello there, dear reality. A nice thought fed by our vanity. Let's not lose sight though - let us keep the clarity.

So right - clean health is off the table. Since I've burned down my broken cradle. But hey, love, we're better now, chin up. (And please, please Marysia - try to clean up.)

So back to the core. We left it behind somewhere before.

Right - landing near. Before you truly disappear.

Near the closest I can get. Near the point I stop to fret. Near my world with no regret.

Near the stop I chose for us. Near the moment where I trust?

But then, near you - it would be just fine. A spot that's you - a spot that's kind. _Lucky, lucky you._ You haven - heaven? - of mine.

10.

it feels like I rip myself apart (a liver token - eagle guard)

To bring you mess. It's funny - -painful, crucial, - to confess.

I shrink - curtain, please, applause. There's less of me now. So I could leave. So I could breathe. So I could learn to love - and how.

Get eaten, dear. Until I'm near.

11.

The wait is done. The weight is gone! Have you been waiting for too long?

He's proud of me. I'm proud of him.

(Why did I have to get so thin?)

It's not on him, of course. It's me - my brain, my stain. My choice. My soul, my fear - and God - its

force. and all this pain. and no remorse.

I've lost so much weight. For that - I made him wait.

(and here? Ha, he has made it known. He did not like that week at all. That week without me, on his own.)

I thought it'd be great. To cut it - cut off all I ever ate. But now? What's left through what I chose? A shadow. - Smile! - A bag of bones. An army of my dying clones.

The tears I ate. The noise, too great. A broken, feeble, dying fate.

And so much hate.

The hate I felt - First - for myself. Then - for the world. Then for the coldness in my cord.

Then for my verse. Still, too intense. Now - for my starving universe.

Finally, hate for being so seen. For being more open than I've ever been. For losing the will to keep my image clean.

But see? Hear these words? It's never him.

*wanted to end on a more innocent thought but then life happened

gotta share this too

I deeply enjoy this sight as I hit "alt-tab"

Swedish drommar - "dream cookies" recipe.

houses for sale, young families

how to titty-fuck like a pornstar

Just there, purest me.

[chidorinnnnn]

i've been on a bit of a bnha fic reading bender as of late, and it never ceases to amaze me how in a battle shounen series that routinely pisses me off for various reasons, the todoroki family's story arc is among one of my favorite bits of writing in anything ever.

and what it comes down to for me is: this is a Traditional Asian Family taken to its logical extreme.

you have a patriarch who was forced to grow up too soon and has been providing for his family since well before he had children of his own, after the loss of his father in his youth. (both of my grandfathers had this exact backstory.) you have a mother who agreed to an arranged marriage that she believed would suit her best, and refuses to consider herself a victim when it didn't turn out as planned because, in her mind, she chose this for herself. (i've had this conversation with my mother and aunts too many times to count, when recalling the bullshit they had to put up with from their spouses and in-laws at too young an age.)

they get together, stick to their gendered roles in the household, agree to have at least two children. and for a time, this is enough.

-but then the eldest son starts to undergo health challenges. and the patriarch has to contend with the fact that the kind of life he wants his son to lead is incompatible with his physical limitations. and none of the scripts or norms or training the mother has been privy to growing up could have prepared her for this, as she finds she can do nothing to alleviate the stress of her son's crushed dreams or her husband's ruined vision of a certain ideal family (not that they're at all on the same level, but both need to be addressed regardless).

their solution to this, against all reason, is to have more children. the younger two grow up in a very different household than the older two, with an entirely different perspective on their parents. where the eldest son yearns for his father's affection and resents his mother for her inaction and passivity, the youngest son has only ever seen his mother be mistreated by his father, and clings to her as the sole source of stability in his life. where the daughter yearns to return to the happy family of her childhood, this time with all of her siblings present, the middle brother can't fathom a reality where that happy family can coexist with his father's violence and distance.

and then the eldest son dies (presumably). and then the patriarch's violence escalates. and then the mother suffers a mental breakdown, nearly taking the youngest son down with her. the daughter, not so different from her father, takes on the role of the caretaker, putting her own feelings and ambitions aside to look after her younger brothers in her mother's absence. the middle son actively makes plans to leave. the youngest son, who faces the brunt of the patriarch's violence and has to endure it without the tempering presence of his mother, can see very little beyond the scope of his own abuse. the eldest son, alone and discarded, plots his revenge.

(and to be clear: while all of this happens behind closed doors, the children don't go to great lengths to keep it a secret. it's a running joke that this family is filled with chronic over-sharers, but it does nothing for them except serve as a sort of pressure release. nobody thinks to look closer. nobody comes to save them.)

-but bit by bit, as the children get older, things get better. the patriarch mellows, and actively works to mend his relationships with his wife and children. with medical attention, the mother heals. the daughter finds joy and fulfillment in her family coming closer together. the middle son leaves, but remains involved in the capacity which works best for him. the youngest son, no longer subjected to his father's violence or separated from his mother, starts to redefine what his relationship with his family should look like, and is granted the space to pursue that at his own pace. there's no singular, dramatic, cathartic resolution - just the gradual softening of their conflicts over time.

and then the eldest son returns to blow everything up, insisting that maybe there should be more than this. and for all of their problems, it's on the eldest son's behalf that the family finally, finally rallies together.

[markanddebbie-protectionprogram]

There's always something so symbolic about framed pictures when they're broken.

The fact that Eve didn't fix the cracks says so much - look at how there's a portion that only includes the heads of the mom and dad.

Now look at the bottom half, how she's excluded from the both of them on both sides.

The cracks are likely to represent the rift in their relationship, Eve already knows this but when she didn't fix it it solidified that she accepts this and knows that the rift will stay for a long time.

When she changed the photo to what she envisioned her family would look like, there were no more cracks.

Found family always hits right but found family you barely knew about but STILL consider your family even when they're gone has now kicked me in angst-ville. Excuse me while I go cry a river.

[laufeysvalentine]

cat's out the bag

spencer reid x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ spencer reid x secret relationship!reader — in which members of the bau go out for dinner and see spencer with... a girl?

early seasons spencer, twilight & ariana grande references for some reason, reader sits on spencer's lap, disgustingly cute

word count ༄ 2k

nora’s notes ༄ my first spencer reid fic + a new writing style. this may be a complete disaster 💖

Spencer’s in the middle of finishing up a reread of a Sherlock Holmes installment and packing up from work when the clomping of two pairs of shoes ruins his peace. 

“Morning, genius,” one of the voices says, bubbling with sweetness in just a way he knows exactly who it is without having to look at the two shadows that enter his vision, blocking the light. 

“It’s almost evening. In fact, it’s been six hours, thirty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds since morning,” he mutters, flicking the page over. “Now, move. I can’t see.” 

“No, you’ve been in a funk all week and we’re going to get you out of it,” Garcia sing-songs, taking his book hostage. She looks the opposite of how he has the past week–put together, with a perfect outfit, as always. “I don’t care why you’ve been a grump, only that you come out with us tonight, yeah? You don’t have to drink, just hang out.” 

He looks up, reluctance prodding his expression. Garcia and Derek are side-to-side, arms crossed, looking down at him. Yeah, nope. “I’m busy tonight.” 

“With?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “You got a date, pretty boy?” 

“I’m meeting with a friend who’s been out-of-town.” He responds, reaching out for his book. “Okay, Dad?” 

“Seriously, Reid?” JJ chimes in from behind the other two. “Come out with us.” 

“I’m busy. I would say I was sorry, but I’m not. 1 in 8 people apologize at least twenty times a day. 43% of people regularly apologize during a situation in which they are not at fault–” Spencer begins as he turns away from them to collect his things. 

“Yeah, that’s enough. Getting Hotch to come was hard enough, I’ll call it quits while I still can. See you tomorrow, Reid.” JJ turns on her heel and walks back towards her own desk.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow too.” He nods and passes them on his way out. “Bye.” 

Garcia looks at Derek, her eyebrows cocked. “Well, then.” 

“Guess it’ll just be you and me, baby girl,” he teases, heading to walk back to his desk. 

“Just the way I like it.” Her heels nip the back of his shoes as she chases after him. “Even though JJ and Hotch will be there too.” 

“They can watch.” 

— 

“When’s Hotch getting here?” JJ drums her fingers on the side of her glass, tilting her head up. The restaurant they’re in is loud and crowded, the three of them squished into a booth clearly meant for two, all having glasses of what the waitress described as “fun, flirty drinks” cradled in their hands. Garcia’s stirring some kind of electric pink concoction with an equally pink umbrella when a throat clears. 

“I’m here,” their boss says, sliding into the booth next to them. His eyebrows furrow–well, maybe that’s just his resting face, they can’t really tell–as he glances at the drink in Derek’s hands. “What exactly is it that you’re drinking?” 

He shrugs, taking a sip. “I think it’s called the Orange Surprise. Not that there’s anything surprising about it–or this place, at all, really. I mean, look around. And this just tastes like–” 

“Wait,” Garcia interrupts, eyes on something behind him. She whips off her glasses, rubbing them furiously on her shirt before her jaw drops and she begins to stand in her seat. “Is it just me or is that Reid over there with a girl? A gorgeous girl at that?” 

As soon as she finishes her sentence, three more heads whip around to her line of vision, shock pulling at their faces. Even Hotch looks mildly surprised. 

From their vantage point in the restaurant, they can see Spencer’s side profile as he stares at a girl across the table from him–you, looking magnificent, even in the dingy, uneven bar lighting. Your elbows are on the table, face cradled by your hands as you stare up at him. The love shining out of your face--lips parted with intrigue as you listen, eyes soft, cheeks relaxed--is sickeningly lovely. And even at first glance, a table full of profilers can tell just how much you care about him–enough to reach across the table and smooth down an untidy lapel, enough to listen raptly as the words begin spilling out of him in a ramble, to smile at him with a kind of learned tenderness you only get from knowing someone with incredible intimacy and just time. 

“Oh. My. God.” She tries to scooch past Derek, who catches her by the hips. 

“Wait, baby girl. I wanna see how this plays out before we interrupt. What if that’s a cousin? I don't know, a friend?” He says, stalling her. She reluctantly sits back in her seat, neck craned. 

“They’re touching,” JJ reports, a gasp falling from her lips. “Reid hates touch.” 

“We can see, JJ,” Derek quips, though his jaw is just as dropped. 

As soon as the boy started rambling, everyone at the table expected you to get up and walk away, or look as bored as they felt listening to him. But you stayed. Your eyes are on his, nodding every so often. They watch as one of your hands wanders to Spencer’s arm, rubbing a circle on the fabric of his button-down. He looks so relaxed in your presence, unlike they’ve ever seen him before. What the hell is happening?

“Please let me go over,” Penelope begs. “I need to know. I need to meet her!” 

“I second it,” JJ echoes. “They’re worse than the two of you, and I didn’t think that was possible with Genius over there.” 

“No, we still don’t know if they’re long-term or first date or what. What if we barge in and they’re just friends?” Derek almost sounds convincing. Almost.

“That is not friendly behavior,” Hotch chimes in. Their attention lasers in on the table in front of them, shock freezing their limbs. You’re pouting, saying something to Spencer–he’s melting in your hands, nodding so much it looks like his head could just screw off any moment now, and you stand. Are you going to leave? Break up? What’s happening? 

You wander to his side of the table, and, in the most disgusting display of PDA ever, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands knitting themselves together behind his neck. And Spencer is sickeningly okay with it, hands traveling to your hips, massaging your pelvic bones as you say something to him. A blush pinches his cheeks–no, it’s like a virus, spreading all over his face as he buries himself into your neck. 

Garcia thinks she heard Derek gag. A giggle escapes you, loud enough to hear from their booth. From across the restaurant.  

“Okay, we’re going over,” he announces, standing from the table. “Even just to break this up. I’m nauseous.” 

“Copy that,” JJ contorts her face, following the group towards them. 

Garcia’s practically skipping ahead, expression both accusatory and giddy as she reaches your table. Her hands slam onto the wood, eyes wide as Spencer rears back, immediately on alert. “Alright, Reid, explain yourself now.” 

“Less dramatic, princess,” Derek whispers to her, nudging her shoulder. 

You cock your head at the quartet. They can all tell you’re mentally scanning them, just as much as they’re doing to you. It takes you a couple moments–and Spencer’s groan as he returns to his previous position nestled on your shoulder–before it clicks who they are. 

You jump up, abandoning Spencer with an embellished gasp. “You must be the BAU!” 

“Minus a few members, yes.” Hotch nods at you, looking the exact picture of what your boyfriend had described. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t be able to peer past the perfectly neutral, bordering on pleasant mask he’s pasted on his face. But that twitch of his lips gives it all away: he knew nothing about you, and mentally his jaw is on the floor. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You too…Aaron Hotchner?” You guess, biting your lip. You’re so purely adorable that half of the team is already in love with you. 

He nods, and you smile at all of them. The happiness you’re wearing is so genuine that JJ whispers to Derek, “I think I just got blinded.”

“And you’re Penelope Garcia?” You turn towards her, eyebrows raised. She reaches her hand to shake yours, but you bypass it entirely and go in to wrap your arms firmly around her. She hugs you back, eyes blown up at shock.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’ve been keeping her from me this whole time!” She accuses Spencer as you pull back, greeting the other members as well. You hear the surprise in JJ’s laugh as you do the same for her, hug firm and leaking with kindness. 

“I haven’t,” he responds matter-of-factly. He’s resisting the urge to pull you back into him, annoyed at all of his colleagues for stealing your time together. Instead, he shifts to the edge of the seat, legs opening wide in a manspread that would be absolutely disgusting on anyone else. But it fits him. Alarmingly well. “I talk about Y/N all the time.” 

“Y/N’s your girlfriend?” Garcia’s tone borders on a shriek, but in a restaurant as loud as this one, no one notices. “I thought she was your cousin!” 

“Ew, what?” you crinkle your nose just as Spencer echoes your words–“That’s disgusting. But scarily more common than you’d think.” 

“I-I mean, you do talk about her a lot. You’ve just never mentioned her in relation to you before.” She sputters out. Everyone can see the cogs turning in her brain, trying to piece the puzzle together. “I love you already.” 

“He said he wouldn’t talk about us at work,” you agree, letting his arm pull you between his legs, one hand falling to your thigh. “Do you guys want to sit down? Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we should catch up.” 

“Um, yes, absolutely!” Garcia throws her hands into the air, scooching the two of you over so she can fit into the booth. “Now, tell me absolutely everything.” 

You shrug, snug on your boyfriend’s lap while also leaning in to look at her. Both of you sparkle in a way he absolutely adores. “I saw him, I liked him, I wanted him, and I got him.” 

“In the wise words of Ariana Grande,” she nods, words wise and expression stoic.

“Are you an Arianator?” You gasp, hand collapsing onto her hand in excitement. She takes that cue to launch into something Spencer does not at all understand. The other members of the BAU shuffle into the other side of the booth, Derek closest to Spencer and JJ at the end. He almost lets out a laugh seeing Hotch sitting so uncomfortably between them, shoulders drawn up tight as to conserve room, face equally as scrunched.

He opens his mouth to comment, but your fingers interrupt, drumming on his shoulder in excitement. You recap your conversation in a voice no one else can quite hear but him. He nods as you ramble, the opposite of what you were doing for him a few minutes ago. In some ways, you're just like him, but you're also complete opposites in so many others. While he usually hates physical touch, you lean into it, fingers tracing patterns onto his broad back while the sun peeks out of the sky, showering him in a glow that makes him downright angelic. Your other hand creeps to his as you watch him brush his teeth–you love seeing his toothbrush next to yours, there’s something so incredibly romantic about it that you can't describe, something that intertwines the two of you. He’s yours, you’re his. 

He presses his lips to your hair, then behind your hair, inhaling you. You’re perfect for him. So, so perfect. 

“Wow, pretty boy.” Derek shakes his head. “Just when I thought I’d seen everything. I didn’t think you’d be so into PDA.” 

“She was away for a whole week. What do you expect me to do?” He huffs, arm wrapping around your waist. Yes, he still hates handshakes, but for you–well, he is absolutely pathetic. And after having you leave for work? Not seeing you for seven whole days? He would get down on his knees and beg you to hold his hand. To pay him an ounce of attention. God, he is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. 

“Greet her like a normal person. Or stay in your apartment,” Morgan advises, only half-joking. 

But Spencer’s no longer paying a shred of attention to anything his co-worker is saying. He’s too absorbed in you, laugh unabashed and tinkling as you discuss something animatedly with JJ and Garcia. You fit so well in his little family, he thinks. You might as well just stay with him forever. 

masterlist

tags @lydiasfalling @cowboylikemac - didn't tag anyone from my other list because it's a diff fandom!

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[space-blue]

Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.

[blood-smiles]

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓 ⊹₊⟡⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 - TW: Gore description at the end of the chapter . icky stuff, reader has a little bit of androphobia .

ׂ╰┈➤ Ever since you were a little kid you dreamed of being a nurse, any kind of nurse, you really just wanted to help for the greater cause. Was it you trying to indulge a savior complex? Perhaps.

Now that you were in fact at camp, training under a more experienced nurse you came to realize that this place was so so much worse than you expected.

These soldiers were no walk in the park, many of them were traumatized from war, sometimes even refusing to take their medicine because it would numb their pain, the only thing that let them know that they were in fact alive.

It broke your heart.

Then came the harassment, some shouted and tried to swipe at you, doing all they could to keep you away from them. sometimes it was just lustful men, not seeing a woman in so long causing them to grow impatient, some would grab you, look you up and down like a fresh piece of meat. Ugh, disgusting.

You hauled around a basket full of medicine and fresh gauze, turning and weaving through the make shift hospital until reaching a white tent .

You unzipped the “door” and shimmied inside the tent, two people came into view, you greeted your senior nurse and the injured soldier politely.

The nurse turned around, clasping her hands together in what seemed a pleading gesture.

“Oh! (Y/N) there you are, can you take over this one for me? There’s another man badly injured in another tent.”

What? No, please don’t leave me with him!

You sent a pathetic look to the other nurse, begging her not to leave you all alone.

You turned your gaze over to the man sitting on the stretcher, the grip on your basket growing tighter.

He was fucking huge, his body being muscular and tall at the same time. His face obscured by dirtied bandages, all sorts of grime and dried blood splashed on his bandages like faded watercolor.

The nurse gave you a soft pat on the shoulder as she left in a haste.

You cleared your throat, shrugging off the discomfort in your system and getting to work swiftly.

You approached the sink, letting the cold water run over your skin, allowing the soap suds to cleanse the impurities and leave a fresh and pure exterior.

You patted your hands against a paper towel and grabbed the basket containing the various first aid equipment.

“I’m (Y/N) and I will be your nurse for today.” The practiced words rolled off your tongue smoothly, although your expression betrayed your confident rambling.

The man glanced up at you, steely blue-grey eyes glaring at you through golden eyelashes.

You swallowed thickly, quickly observing his physical state, you could point out two or three injuries. But with his face covered you can barely make out if he needs anything to be done on his face.

“I need to remove your bandages to clean injuries below them.” You folded your hands in front of your stomach, furrowing your brows while waiting for him to shout at you.

But the boisterous voice never came, instead a soft grunt answered along with the shuffling of fabric.

The dirtied bandages coiled around his neck, draping over his shoulders as he nodded his head to get his hair out of his vision.

You gazed at his features.. He was beautiful. 

Not the delicate flower type of beauty, not something to be gently handled or protected. It was more like a rough, jagged beauty, alike to the beauty of a rusted, jagged claymore, flowers curled along its hilt and blade.

Blonde hair curled in between his eyebrows in a sort of X shape. His features were strong and sharp, his expression stony and serious. His slightly tanned skin decorated with scars and small cuts.

“Are there any serious injuries you have right now?” 

The man rolled up his stained tank top to reveal bandages wrapped around his ribs, light pink stains splashed on the surface of the yellowed bandages.

You took a deep breath, putting some gloves on to begin inspecting the wound.

You slowly unraveled the bandages, revealing a half-scabbed half-fresh wound underneath, you glanced up at the large man to get a look at how well he was fairing with the pain.

Only the slightest twitch of his eyebrow and the soft flushing along his cheekbones were telling you that he was feeling pain.

He glanced down at you, pupils dilating for a moment before looking entirely away.

After a little you made sure to send him on his way, his right side was wrapped in bandages and thoroughly disinfected.

You made sure to clean the minor cuts on his face too, medical tape covering some of them.

You grabbed your clipboard, recording his visit today and a simple report on what was done.

“Can you give me your whole name and birthdate?” You asked softly, glancing down at the white boxed paper.

“February 14.” His accented voice answered, folding his old bandages in his own hand.

“..Marcelle Kühn.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye shyly.

“Alright, I believe that is it..” you muttered, taking out some pain killers and handing them to him “You can take two every six hours to keep down the pain.. Is there anything else you wanted to speak about?” 

Marcelle looked up from his hands, gently taking your in his, 

“Yes, right here.” He placed your hand over his chest, right over his heart, it was erratically beating against his ribcage almost as if it were about to jump out of his tórax and run off.

“Every time I look at you. My heart.. em.. how do you say..? Fast.” He explained, pressing your hand into his chest even more.

His cheeks were flushed a red tint, small sweat suds forming over his scarred skin.

You laughed nervously, prying your hand away from his relaxed, soft muscles.

Your ears were beginning to feel warmer, how do you explain this to him without outright embarrassing him?

You started “Erm.. Well—“

“Lieutenant cottontail!! There you are.” Another deep voice cut you off as he stepped into the tent.

“..Salvador.” 

It was another burly man of Marcelle’s size, big muscular and intimidating handsome..

But this one was a stark contrast to him, he seemed more extroverted and.. louder, you suppose.

His black hair fell over his face loosely, styled in a messy half-up-half-down type of way.

His gaze shifted to you, eyes widening just a little bit, giving you a curious look.

“hello there.. sorry for the intrusion, muñeca.” He waved at you, his shoulders relaxed.

You stayed quiet, before just nodding your head. 

“You must be the new nurse, right?” He walked closer to you, you tried to ignore how his boots were tracking blood and mud into the sterile tent..

“C-correct.” He leaned down to your level for a moment, observing you intently for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed.

You were about to pop a blood vessel, you could hear the blood pumping through your ears frantically, did you do something wrong? Why was he looking at you like that?

“..You’re pretty cute.” He whispered to himself before he backed away completely, swiveling around to greet the blonde man on the cot.

“We have a new unit of rookies, cmon.” The new man(Salvador) motioned with his head for the other male to get moving.

“See you around, (Y/N).” The black haired one bid his goodbye with a nod of his head and a pat to your head.

The blonde one stared at you for a second, you swear you saw the corners of his lips twitch up slightly before muttering a farewell too.

…

Marcelle might have been struck with Cupid’s arrow. Unfortunately it seemed that he wasn’t the only one under the mischievous cherub’s control.

his “friend” had been shot too. Marcelle could tell, Salvador was laidback and a good personality, complete contrast to him but even with that arrogant exterior Salvador adored to display, Marcelle knew that something changed.

When he spoke to you the tips of his ears were slightly flushed, he toned down his prideful side too, truly a miracle. 

as far as Marcelle knew, Salvador loathed physical touch. However he didn’t hesitate to brush against you. Male-Whore.

And what did the blonde man do this whole time? Seethe as he watched the interaction. He was pushing 34 years old and he was still too shy to speak to a girl. Pathetic.

He now had competition, he hoped that it was just a puppy crush and would lay over and be forgotten by Salvador and him.

Oh how wrong he was.

…

It had been a while since you begun to feel at home at base, and now you had.. friends, you suppose.

Those two soldiers were becoming close to your heart, both of them paying you almost daily visits, gifting you small trinkets they found and wild flowers from their outings.

Salvador liked giving you flowers, especially red ones for some reason, he was the more flirtatious one out of the pair, but you just laughed it off. not like he could have feelings for a puny person like you, could he? He was probably playing with you..

God, are you dense or do you think he doesn’t like you? Salvador has tried everything, he has flirted, shown that you are special to HIM, he has gotten rid of all the nuisances, he literally worships the ground you walk on and you still don’t get that he is hopelessly I love with you?!

Marcelle was sweet, you honestly didn’t expect it from him, he always had an annoyed look and seemed milliseconds away from tearing your head off your shoulders clean.

But he was.. basically a human sized teddy bear—at least towards you. He liked physical proximity(surprisingly), gently hugging your head closer to his chest, burying his nose into your hair, you name it.

Salvador never had any of it, shooting nasty looks at Marcelle and muttering jabs at him, They were both like two brothers fighting over a plushie.

Somehow they both would always end up hugging a part of your body after bickering for a while.

Lately there has been various soldier deaths, strangely enough they were men you knew, both in your good and not so good graces.

They were admitted into the infirmary for life threatening wounds and most of the time died due to blood loss or a punctured organ.

It was traumatic. Having to drag the body out and into a sealed bag to the corresponding family.

Your ears pricked at the sound of screams, you were used to hearing those cries for help. You learned throughout so many years that you were to mind your business, not to investigate and much less wander near the forest.

Bloodcurdling screams resounded from the woods, only the birds and bears present to hear the sound of death.

A blonde man grabbed onto the lower jaw of the bloodied man lying on the floor, thick fingers lodging onto the frenulum of his mouth.

The sound of cartilage tearing reached his ears, a sick laugh reverberating from his chest as blood streamed out the injured soldiers mouth.

“Fancy seeing you here.” A lax voice sounded from behind Marcelle.

Salvador dragged a body with him, creating a dark trail of guts and blood on the dirt flooring.

The man Marcelle was finishing with flailed and cried on the ground, his tongue sticking out from his mouth as there was no more jaw to hang on to.

He flailed for help to the black haired fellow, only for his hopes to be crushed when he started laughing at his misery.

“I know this guy. He groped (Y/N) did he not?” Salvador cracked a rare smile, walking up to the male on the floor and landing a powerful kick to his gut.

Blood gurgled out his mouth, eyes wide as he stared up at both of the devils with fear.

Marcelle scoffed, nodding his head as he placed his foot on his head, applying pressure on hid frontal lobe until it exploded.

Making a mess of blood and brains under his black boot, even after death Marcelle had decided he hadn’t had enough though.

Lifting his leg he stomped down on his head, over and over. And over. And over again.

The deceased man’s face was unrecognizable, being pulverized into the soil as only remnants of skin and meat suggested there was a head on his body once.

Marcelle ripped his name off his uniform, taking out his lighter and burning it.

Salvador threw his own body next to the headless corpse, nudging it with his foot lightly before spitting on the corpses.

“Let’s go. (Y/N) is waiting for us.” Marcelle mumbled, eyeing the bodies one last time before leaving.

You enjoyed your lunch with both the soldiers. But you couldn’t help but notice the slight red tint to Marcelle’s usually honey blonde hair. The red under Salvador’s nails scared you, but you just figured they must have hurt themselves.

You tried to ignore the insanity behind the pair’s eyes as they stared at you, they were looking at you as if they had placed their hearts on silver platters and were waiting for you to take them.

You just smiled, thinking it was just your mind playing tricks on you from exhaustion. Sadly that wasn’t the case. ♡

[luvergirl-535]

full court distress

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.0k

c/w - weed & drinking, fluff, azzi is going thru it and paige is just trying to vibe 🥀. pure chaos. not a serious bone in my body apparently. based off one of my headcanons :)

a/n - in which paige pays the price for something she didn’t do, but kinda deserves anyway.

most mornings between them are soft, routine: azzi wakes first, then paige. azzi allows herself five minutes, no more and certainly no less, to lay with paige’s sleeping figure, holding her, admiring her, borrowing her warmth. and then she will slip out of bed to do mundane things like taking off her bonnet and tidying up and dressing. paige will wake up to the sounds of azzi bustling around, or to the feel of her hands stroking through paige’s soft hair.

so it comes as a bit of a surprise when paige wakes earlier than usual and realizes it’s because her girlfriend has been watching her sleep with a pouty expression for who knows how long.

paige blinks a few times in an attempt to un-blur the morning. “hey, weird-ass,” she says, voice thick with sleep. once her vision finally clears, she looks at azzi again. she frowns when the pout is still firmly on azzi’s face. “what happened?”

azzi’s lip juts out further. she’s typically pretty tough, not quite as soft around the edges as paige is. she’s gentle and kind and sweet, but the pouting and baby-talk are mostly reserved for special occasions. which is why her wide, misty eyes and quivering bottom lip have paige concerned. “az,” she says when azzi doesn’t reply. “c’mon, what’s up, babe?”

azzi shakes her head, and paige is a little relieved to have at least some reaction from her. still, it’s strange. paige isn’t used to prying information out of azzi—it’s usually the other way around.

bracing herself for a potentially bad start to the morning, paige shifts closer, tangling their legs under soft sheets and slinging an arm around azzi’s waist. “baby,” she says, trying to soften the sleepy roughness from her throat, “tell me what’s goin’ on, sweetheart.”

azzi shakes her head again, lip trembling aggressively enough now that she nestles into the crook of paige’s neck to hide.

“aw, nah, don’t cry,” paige coos, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s cheek to try and nudge her out of hiding. “look at me, mama, for real.”

azzi stays strictly put. “it’s nothing,” she says, voice muffled in the skin of paige’s neck.

“why you making me fight for this right now?” paige asks. it’s a valid question—usually, azzi will go to paige for comfort without needing to be prompted. even when she is more closed off, all it takes is some cuddles and a few pet names to get her talking. but paige is putting on her best soft girlfriend right now, and azzi is still being oddly stubborn.

“it’s just embarrassing,” azzi grumbles.

paige frowns. they’re far past the point of getting embarrassed around each other. “don’t gotta be embarrassed.”

there’s a beat before azzi’s quiet admission—“i don’t want to tell you.”

paige’s eyebrows furrow at this. she tilts her head back, placing both hands on azzi’s cheeks now and lifting her face up. azzi goes more willingly this time, eyes a little watery and sad and cheeks flushed pink. the sight worries paige. “are we okay?”

azzi nods.

“is it something i did?”

azzi hesitates, then shakes her head. the hesitation is odd, but not enough to completely sway paige. she trusts azzi to tell her the truth. “okay, mama,” she says, pressing a tender kiss to azzi’s forehead. “you don’t have to tell me. but you should, eventually.” she makes a face. “mostly because i’m nosey.”

that gets a small, amused smile out of azzi, which is a relief in and of itself. she lowers her head again, settling into paige’s chest. “just want you to hold me for awhile,” she mumbles.

paige hums. “i can do that.”

they end up falling back asleep, and for the moment, it’s forgotten.

❀❀❀

azzi doesn’t let it stay forgotten for long.

in fact, paige thinks she only gets another hour of sleep before she’s being nudged awake.

she grumbles, turning away from her girlfriend to bury her head into the pillow.

“paige,” azzi whispers, poking at her back.

“still early, baby,” paige grumbles. then she remembers the events from earlier on in the morning and says, “you crying again?”

“no,” azzi huffs.

paige nods, satisfied that she has no girlfriend duties to fulfill at the moment. “‘kay. lemme sleep.”

“you can go back to sleep after,” azzi says, poking her again.

“after what?” paige yawns. her monkey lesbian brain goes straight to sex, because of course it does, but also azzi was all emo just an hour ago and that’s probably not what she’s waking her up for.

“after you help me,” azzi says, sounding almost a little annoyed that paige isn’t getting it.

monkey lesbian brain conjures images of all the ways azzi might need paige’s help—like to de-stress, perhaps, or maybe she’s sore and wants a massage…

“i gotta pee,” azzi explains.

monkey lesbian brain shuts down.

“okay,” paige replies, confused. “go piss, girl.”

“it’s dark out there.”

paige cracks an eye open. yeah, it’s still dark out—maybe it’s a little earlier than she thought. still, she’s not getting it. “use your flashlight.”

“babeee-uhhh,” azzi borderline whines, which is, again, unusual for her usually poised, mature girlfriend. “it’s scary.”

and, okay, the two of them might be a little codependent. paige isn’t denying that. but for the most part, they’re pretty capable of emptying their bladders without the other present.

paige turns over, eyebrows furrowed. “you fucking w’me?”

“no,” azzi says. she’s propped up on an elbow, eyes wide and round. “just, come with me, please?”

as far as paige can tell, she has two options: argue with azzi, henceforth postponing her sleep even longer, and end up losing the argument and doing this for her girlfriend anyway, or just getting up and doing it now.

she thinks about how kk will demolish her for being a simp if she ever finds out about this, and slowly sits up.

“aight, let’s go,” she says, motioning for azzi to get moving.

azzi stands and waits until paige is up, too, before taking her by the hand, then wrapping her free hand around paige’s bicep, effectively shielding herself with paige’s arm.

paige looks down at her, sure azzi’s about to laugh at her and say ‘gotcha’, but she’s just staring wide-eyed at paige’s cracked bedroom door and the dark hallway beyond.

paige guides her out of the room, keeping her eyes half-closed in the hopes she’ll stay tired. “you’re letting me sleep after this, right?” she double-checks as they make the slow, sleepy trek through the hallway.

“uh-huh.”

“you have a nightmare or sum’?”

azzi shudders. “something like that.”

“what about?”

azzi chews on her lip, then points at the light switch outside jana’s bedroom door. “turn that on.”

“jana’s gonna kill me if we wake her up,” paige mutters.

“so jana’s more important than me now?” azzi asks, releasing paige’s hand with a dramatic little flourish, stepping back to cross her arms.

paige is much too tired and much too confused to decipher whether azzi’s messing around or being serious. “c’mon, azzi, quit it.”

it’s too dark to make out her expression—especially without contacts—but she can hear the eye roll in azzi’s scoff. “whatever. maybe you should just go back to your room. let me go alone.”

if it weren’t the middle of the fucking night, paige would probably have the energy and emotional capacity to comfort her girlfriend, despite the drama of it all. but it is, in fact, the middle of the fucking night, and it’s her second time waking at an ungodly hour, and her patience is worn thin.

“fine,” she snaps, already turning. “maybe i will.”

she doesn’t even take a full step before azzi whisper-yells, “wait!” and grabs her wrist, tugging her back. “don’t leave me. it’s dark.”

“you were being all sassy to me,” paige says. “you want me to leave, i’ll leave.”

“i was obviously not serious,” azzi hisses.

“oh, what—so you gotta attitude so i can baby you or somethin’?”

“yes, actually,” azzi mumbles. “now can we go to the bathroom?”

paige opens her mouth to argue, but stops. it’s not like azzi to so openly fish for attention, and it gives her pause. makes her think about the crying earlier. the clinginess. the sharp edges covering something softer.

maybe azzi’s picking a fight because it’s easier than admitting how vulnerable she feels. “yeah, okay. whatever.”

azzi takes hold of paige’s arm again, once again shielding her body with it as they make the rest of the way to the restroom. once they get there, azzi flips on the light—paige squints against the sudden harshness of it—and pulls paige inside before closing the door.

“ughhhhh,” paige groans, sliding down the door to sit against it, hiding her face between her knees. “it’s brighttttt.”

“stop being dramatic,” azzi says. “i turned on the lowest setting.”

“it’s still bedtime,” paige argues. “i shouldn’t be seeing any light whatsoever for at least the next five hours.”

“you’ll go back to sleep after this,” azzi waves her off. paige rubs at her eyes, squeezing them shut, but even with her knees blocking the light out a dull headache begins to form at the base of her skull. she rubs the back of her neck and looks up to find azzi sitting there, staring ahead.

“are you taking a shit?” paige asks. “because if you are, i’m leaving.”

“no,” azzi replies solemnly, “just feeling too lazy to stand up. trying to find the will.”

paige sighs. “would a countdown help?”

azzi frowns, thinks about it, then says, “sure.”

“okay. three, two…” she pauses, giving azzi time to gear up before saying, “one, go.”

azzi stands, looking quite proud of herself, and paige gives a small round of applause as she pulls up her sleep shorts.

“ten outta ten,” she says, watching azzi move to the sink to wash her hands. “great form. perfect leg work.”

azzi smiles at her through the mirror. “thank you, thank you.”

paige makes a fist, holding a pretend mic up to her mouth. “azzi, how’d you find the courage to perform such a brave endeavor?” she sticks the mic in azzi’s direction.

azzi grabs a hand towel and turns around, kneeling so she’s on paige’s level and leaning towards her hand. “well, i couldn’t have done it without my ridiculous girlfriend.” before paige can gasp in mock offense, she stands up, holding a now-dry hand out for paige to take. “c’mon, dummy, let’s go to bed.”

paige lets azzi pull her up, their fingers tangling automatically like they’ve done this a hundred times before. which, to be fair, they have.

“i think that counts as cardio,” paige mumbles, leaning her weight onto azzi’s side.

“don’t know how much coach would agree with that,” azzi says.

paige hums. the hallway feels a little colder now that they’ve left the bathroom light behind, but azzi’s hand is warm, steady.

“you know,” paige says, “this is above my pay grade.”

azzi raises an eyebrow. “what, helping your incredibly brave girlfriend pee?”

“exactly,” paige says, yawning into her shoulder. “i should unionize.”

azzi snorts. “pretty sure that makes me your boss.”

“god, don’t say that,” paige groans. “now i feel like i need to clock out.”

azzi opens the bedroom door for her with a flourish of her hand. “enjoy your unpaid overtime, baby.”

paige flops into bed face-first. “i hate you.”

azzi climbs in after her, grinning as she worms an arm around paige’s back. “you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

“what was that?”

paige nuzzles into azzi’s neck, poking at her ribs. “just playin’.”

they settle into the blankets, limbs tangling easily, comfortably. within seconds, paige is already halfway asleep, and azzi presses a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“thanks for the countdown,” she whispers.

“mm-hmm,” paige mumbles. “ten outta ten. great form.”

❀❀❀

this time, when paige wakes first, she doesn’t think twice about it. considering azzi had seemingly two nightmares last night—maybe more—it’s best for her to get some extra sleep. she fiddles around on her phone for a few minutes, taking a picture of azzi sleeping soundly on her chest and then staring at the picture for a solid five minutes before deciding it’s time to get up.

carefully, she places a hand under azzi’s head and another on her shoulder, maneuvering her over so she’s lying flat on her back. azzi makes a little sound at the movement, and paige presses a kiss to her forehead, shushing against her skin until she settles again. she takes a few more seconds to admire her girlfriend, then slips out of bed, wincing at the cold floor on her bare feet. sun is shining through the curtains now, and she rubs her eyes as she pads down the hallway.

in the bathroom, she listens to a story time on tiktok while she brushes her teeth, volume turned just low enough for only her to hear. her goal is not to wake azzi up—because she needs the sleep but also because she tends to be grumpy whenever she’s woken by anything other than her natural circadian rhythm. and paige already dealt with a strange, emotional azzi last night. she doesn’t need a cranky one, too.

she’s just wondering how long her girlfriend might sleep in when azzi sneaks up on her, arms wrapping tightly around her middle as she buries her nose into paige’s neck.

paige startles slightly, surprised that she apparently summoned her girlfriend. “oh,” she says, toothbrush dangling from her mouth. “hey, mama.”

“why’d you leave me?” azzi grumbles.

paige furrows her eyebrows, then leans forward and spits, sure she’s heard wrong. “huh?”

“why’d you leave me?” azzi repeats, clear as day now as she lifts her head to meet paige’s eyes in the mirror. she pouts at their reflection. “i woke up alone.”

paige laughs, sure azzi’s messing with her. “the codependency is crazy.”

azzi pinches her in the stomach.

“ow!” paige hits azzi’s hand away. “what the…?”

azzi pinches her again, maybe for good measure, then walks herself right out of the bathroom.

paige watches her go, shaking her head to herself. “what?” she whispers, incredibly confused. she glances around, half expecting a camera crew to jump out at her and tell her she’s being pranked. nobody appears and thus, it seems like this may actually be real. unfortunately.

she looks down at her stomach where azzi pinched her—twice!—and rubs the spot tenderly. she considers lying down on the floor and saying something like, “i’ve been hit,” and groaning until someone finds her, then decides it would be better to just go ask azzi what the hell that was for.

she finds azzi in the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge like she’s trying to decide whether to make breakfast or crawl inside and disappear. her bonnet’s still on, and she’s got the same t-shirt on from last night—paige’s t-shirt, technically—but now it’s crumpled and drooping off one shoulder in a way that’s both ridiculous and somehow hot.

“hey,” paige says, leaning against the doorway.

“hey,” azzi echoes, without turning around.

paige narrows her eyes. “you, uh…pinched me. twice.”

azzi shrugs. “you deserved it.”

paige bristles, just a little bit. “no i didn’t.” when azzi doesn’t respond, she sighs. “it actually kinda hurt.”

“you left me.”

“that doesn’t mean you get to pinch me.”

azzi stares into the depths of the fridge, clearly defeated. “i know. i’m sorry.”

“is this about last night?” paige asks gently, stepping closer. “your nightmare?”

azzi finally turns to look at her, expression unreadable. “no.”

“you sure?”

“mm-hmm.”

paige isn’t convinced. she steps forward and slips her arms around azzi’s waist. “you’re acting weird.”

“you’re weird.”

“okay,” paige says, letting it go for now. “do you want me to make breakfast?”

azzi shakes her head. “no. just…stand here.”

“here?”

“yeah. just for a minute.”

paige obeys, resting her chin on azzi’s shoulder. the fridge is still wide open. neither of them seems to care.

“you sure we’re okay? it’s not something i did?” she asks quietly.

azzi hesitates just long enough to make it noticeable. then she says, “nope.”

“really?”

“really.”

paige hums, unconvinced but not willing to push, still trying to hold onto that trust that azzi will tell the truth eventually. “okay.”

they stay like that for awhile, paige letting azzi be the first to let go, holding her until she’s ready to move on. morning lights pools the floor, the fridge hums quietly beside them—azzi doesn’t say anything else. paige doesn’t ask. not yet.

❀❀❀

paige has officially declared azzi insane. as in, clinically. in her head, of course—she’d never say that to azzi out loud. especially not when she’s acting like a crazy lady.

after the whole pinching incident, paige thinks maybe the rest of the day will be normal. they’ll chill until practice, then get ready for that frat party later, then fuck when they get home. that’s the plan.

azzi, however, appears to be on an entirely different timeline. or maybe a different planet. one where it’s okay to be clingy one second and upset the next. one where it’s okay to beg your girlfriend for cuddles then lock her out of the room for calling you by your name. (“why didn’t you call me ‘baby’? are you mad at me? do you hate me?”).

so yeah. paige is tired. mentally. emotionally. spiritually.

she gives azzi her space for a bit, hoping that whatever cosmic shift she’s experiencing will pass on its own, like a storm system. but when it’s been a suspiciously long time since she’s heard any noise—no music, no tiktoks, no passive-aggressive throat clears—she decides to go check.

the door to paige’s room is cracked open now. which is progress, considering it was fully closed (and locked) fifteen minutes ago. paige pushes it gently, peeking her head in.

and stops short.

azzi is curled up in the middle of the bed, blanket bunched around her waist, a tissue clutched in one hand and paige’s baby photo album in the other.

she is crying.

like, actual tears.

paige blinks. “um.”

azzi doesn’t look up.

“are you…crying?”

still no response.

paige steps into the room slowly, like she’s approaching a wild animal. “baby?”

azzi finally looks at her, bottom lip trembling. “you were so little.”

paige stares. “what?”

“your head was gigantic and your legs were so chubby. you looked like a little alien.” she hiccups. “a cute alien.”

paige walks over, cautiously sits at the edge of the bed. “are you okay?”

“no,” azzi sniffles. “you were just a baby. and now you’re not. and that’s so sad.”

“okay,” paige says, carefully pulling the tissue box closer. “but, like, if i was a baby, you wouldn’t be able to date me. you’d actually get sent to jail for dating me.” she considers it, then says, “well, i guess there are still some countries where we could go to jail for dating each other.”

azzi nods solemnly, then breaks into a fresh wave of tears.

paige gently pries the photo album out of her hands and replaces it with a tissue. “what are you even crying about right now?”

“i don’t know!” azzi wails. “you’re just so cute, and i love you, and one day we’re gonna be old and wrinkly and then dead.”

paige opens her mouth, then closes it again.

there’s just…no response to that.

so she pulls azzi into her lap instead, settling her against her chest the way azzi had done that morning. “oooh-kay. that’s enough internet for you today.”

“i’m not even on the internet.”

“i know, mama. that’s the scary part.”

azzi sniffles again and clutches the tissue like it’s a life raft.

paige presses a kiss to her forehead and sighs. “you are being so weird.”

“you like it.”

“debatable.”

paige strokes her back, ignoring azzi’s occasional mutterings of things like look at her little cheeks and this should be illegal every time she sneaks a glance back at the album.

paige still has no idea what’s going on. and honestly? she’s a little scared to ask anymore.

❀❀❀

practice is normal. at first.

there’s the usual yelling, the squeak of sneakers, the smell of floor polish and gatorade and barely contained rage. azzi’s running through drills like always—fast, locked in, pesky. paige watches her from the other end of the court, doing her own reps but always with one eye on her girlfriend, as usual.

and then it happens.

“azzi! what the hell was that?” coach bellows, clipboard smacking against his thigh.

everyone stops.

it’s not unusual for coach to yell—that’s kind of his thing—but he almost never yells at azzi. azzi is his golden child. his pride and joy. azzi could throw the ball in the opposite direction and coach would be like, “great look, just unlucky.”

so when azzi freezes mid-drill and blinks at coach like she’s been shot, everyone else freezes too.

“run the play right or don’t run it at all!” geno shouts again.

azzi doesn’t respond. just kind of…stands there. looking small. her mouth opens like she might say something, but then her lip wobbles and—oh god. oh no.

“is she crying?” kk whispers.

“shut up,” ice hisses, elbowing her. “she never cries.”

paige is already moving.

by the time she reaches azzi, her girlfriend is standing perfectly still, tears silently sliding down her cheeks, basketball clutched in her hands like it personally betrayed her.

“baby,” paige says gently, stepping in front of her.

“i’m fine,” azzi insists, voice watery. “i’m totally fine. i just—i can’t see. the lights are…bright.”

“okay,” paige says, nodding like that makes sense. “super bright. you never noticed the lights before?”

“maybe they got new ones.”

“no, yeah. that’s prolly it.”

coach looks borderline horrified. like he just yelled at a toddler or kicked a puppy. “shit,” he mutters. “i didn’t think she’d cry.”

“nobody thought she’d cry,” morgan says under her breath, still watching like she’s witnessing the downfall of a dynasty.

“maybe she has allergies,” caroline offers. “sometimes my eyes water when i’m sick.”

“do you sob when you’re sick?”

“okay, well—”

“do you want water?” paige asks, brushing the tears from azzi’s face with her sleeve.

“i want justice.”

“yup,” paige says, kissing her forehead. “totally reasonable. we can do that.”

“do you think coach hates me now?” azzi sniffles.

“nah. he probably already wrote a formal apology and a fruit basket.”

in the background, geno is frantically talking to cd, gesturing wildly at azzi with the clipboard like he’s trying to take it all back with body language alone.

“do i look ugly when i cry?” azzi asks suddenly.

“you look beautiful. like a…betrayed deer.”

azzi squints. “…i’ll take it.”

practice ends early. nobody knows why, but coach announces it in a shaky voice and then disappears into his office like he needs a moment to reevaluate his life.

everybody says thank you to azzi as they walk out, because practice doesn’t end early unless a volcano erupts or a tsunami strikes. or, apparently, unless the princess cries.

in the locker room, the girls flock.

“girl, i didn’t even know you had tear ducts,” kk says, still looking a little shell-shocked.

“do you want a hug or a juice box?” morgan asks, one arm outstretched and the other holding a lukewarm juice box from her locker.

“you guys,” azzi mutters, pulling her shirt on. “you’ve seen me cry during movies.”

“barely,” aubrey says.

“yeah, you usually watch us cry during the sad parts and laugh about it,” allie chips in.

“she saves the crying for later,” paige informs.

azzi shoots her a glare.

oops. paige clears her throat, waving them off with one hand and holding azzi with the other. “aight, move on. y’all are crowding her, damn.”

caroline nods, like the supportive best friend she is. “she needs privacy in this trying time.”

the girls giggle but obey, drifting off even as they continue to glance worriedly at azzi every few seconds. paige finishes getting ready quickly, taking azzi’s hand to walk out with her into the nippy connecticut air.

paige stops her once they get outside. “you okay now?” she asks softly.

“no.”

“do you want to be dramatic about it for a lil longer?”

“yes.”

“okay.”

paige presses a kiss to her temple. “you’re lucky you’re a pretty crier.”

“you’re lucky i don’t have the energy to fight you.”

paige smiles. “you finna sue coach?”

“maybe. emotional damages.”

“i’ll testify.”

azzi nods solemnly. “you’re a good girlfriend.”

“yeah,” paige says, tugging her closer. “i know.”

even after everyone else has left the facility—most of the girls gagging at the pda as they walk past on their way to the dorms—paige and azzi stay like that. holding on. clearly, azzi needs it. and paige wishes she knew why.

but for the first time all day, paige doesn’t feel tired at all.

❀❀❀

“you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

paige lays on the bed, watching azzi do her hair in the mirror. what with everything that’s gone on today, paige thinks azzi might just need a good old movie night. and while paige loves a good party, she’d never say no to a night in with her girlfriend.

azzi nods, spraying her hair down with water. “i’m good.”

“okay,” paige says doubtfully. “i just ask because of, you know, practice. and the baby pictures. and this morning, in the bathroom. and the two times you woke me up in the middle of the night.”

by the time she’s done listing everything off. azzi has turned around to glare at her, unimpressed.

paige puts her hands up in the air. “am i wrong?”

azzi squints at her, then turns back around, picking up the leave-in conditioner. “i am fine.”

“it’s just the whole crying multiple times thing that’s throwing me off. and the abuse.” paige rubs her tummy. “i think i have a mark.”

“don’t make me come over there,” azzi warns, combing her fingers through her curls.

paige smiles. “i want you over here, mama. what else i gotta do? talk about how dramatic you’ve been? ask why you made me watch you pee at the asscrack of daw—ow!”

azzi smiles smugly. “that’s what you get.”

paige picks up the item that azzi just threw at her—a hairbrush—and holds it up in the air. “see? abuse.”

“you call it abuse,” azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, “i call it karma.”

paige scoffs, flopping on the bed and turning on her side, facing away from azzi. “i hate you.”

it’s quiet for a few moments, the low sounds of azzi doing her hair the only thing filling the space. paige thinks maybe azzi isn’t going to fall for the bait and is about to give up and turn back around when footfalls approach the bed.

she smiles to herself, then fixes her expression into a pout.

the mattress dips as azzi sits on it, just a moment before painted nails begin to scratch at paige’s scalp. “hey.”

paige doesn’t reply.

“sit up for me,” azzi murmurs.

paige lets herself be guided, slow and sulky, until she’s upright against the headboard. azzi swings one leg over, settling into her lap with practiced ease, having done the same thing countless times before. her hands find paige’s shoulders, sliding over the planes of them, down her arms, then back up again, teasing.

“you’re such a baby,” azzi says, but her voice is warm, fond. her eyes flick down to paige’s mouth.

“you threw a hairbrush at me,” paige mutters, even as her hands settle on azzi’s hips, fingers tightening just a little.

azzi leans in, nose brushing paige’s. “and you survived.”

paige laughs, breathless, and then azzi kisses her. soft at first, slow and coaxing, then deeper. paige melts into it, letting herself be pulled under, hands roaming—azzi’s back, her thighs, the curve of her waist under her shirt.

azzi pulls back just long enough to whisper, “still hate me?”

paige shakes her head. “you know i couldn’t if i wanted to.” she kisses azzi again, prodding her tongue against the seam of her lips, a silent question.

azzi hums approvingly, opening her mouth just enough for paige’s tongue to slip inside, and paige groans when she gets a taste of her. she knows this is all azzi’s way of getting what she wants, but she lets herself be played. if you see me being manipulated by a fine-ass girl with dimples, she thinks to herself in amusement, don’t save me, i’m right where i wanna be.

paige lets her hands wander down to azzi’s ass, grabbing her the way they both like. azzi lets out this little noise, sexy and enticing—and then there’s a knock, sharp and sudden, at the door.

“yo,” comes a voice from the hallway, muffled but unmistakable—yanna. “az, you in there?”

azzi pulls back, looking irritated as she stares at the door. “yeah, what’s up?”

“you still want help with your hair?”

azzi’s eyes widen before she squeezes them shut. “shit. i forgot,” she whispers, looking apologetically at a frowning paige before calling out, “yeah, just gimme a sec!”

“aight,” yanna responds, sounding like she knows exactly why they need a sec.

azzi drops her forehead onto paige’s shoulder with a groan. “i knew someone was gonna interrupt.”

paige grins, arms wrapping fully around her. “karma,” she sing-songs.

azzi pinches her side.

❀❀❀

the party’s lit, rap music playing so loud paige can feel it in her bones—her favorite volume for music, if she’s being honest. bodies press close together, a swirl of heat, laughter, and the occasional shout to be heard over the beat. the air’s thick with the mingling scents of beer and some kind of fruity vodka drink that no one’s really sure about, body spray and cologne and sweat. the kitchen’s a disaster—a counter full of empty bottles and half-eaten chips, the trash overflowing with beer cans and paper plates.

paige has long given up trying to find a quiet corner, instead letting herself get swept up in the chaos. she had been with azzi, of course, the two of them navigating through the crowd together, paige’s arm wrapped loosely around azzi’s waist like it was some kind of built-in tether. azzi clung to her like she was the only solid thing in the room, fingers grazing paige’s side every time the crowd pushed them apart. azzi has never liked to party alone on a good day, but on a strange one like today? paige hadn’t been surprised one bit when azzi glued herself to her side like her life depended on it.

they’d been there for a couple hours by the time azzi had told her she needed to use the restroom, and though paige had offered to come with, azzi surprisingly shook her head. apparently she’s able to pee on her own now. good for her.

now, paige checks the time on her phone for what feels like the billionth time. it’s been too long since azzi disappeared for the bathroom. she wonders if she might need saving.

paige scans the room, eyes moving over the knot of people in various stages of inebriation—some laughing too loud, others slumped against walls, and a few making out in plain view, which simultaneously grosses her out and makes her miss her girlfriend more. she wants to be drunkenly making out in a public space right now.

more urgently, paige goes to the bathroom. the line is pretty long, but she walks along it, looking for any sign of her girlfriend—nothing. she’s not there.

“anyone seen azzi?” paige asks, a hint of unease creeping into her voice as she approaches a few of the girls who’ve huddled up in the kitchen.

they all look up, aubrey sipping from a red cup, ice half-heartedly playing with her phone. no one seems to have a clue. they also look faded as hell, which doesn’t help.

“she was with you, right?” sarah asks, sounding like she doesn’t care at all. paige raises an eyebrow and considers getting on her ass for underage smoking, then decides against it—that’s caroline’s job.

“yeah, but that was like… twenty minutes ago. where’d she go?” paige asks again, more insistent now. she scans the space once more, her heart rate picking up just a little bit. maybe azzi slipped out to get some air? got stuck in a conversation? paige checks her phone, half-expecting a text or something, but there’s nothing. just the usual group messages.

“maybe she’s in the bathroom,” kk suggests, not looking too concerned. jesus, even kk is chilled-out. that must’ve been some serious weed.

which makes her think—“where’s jana?”

the girls look around lazily, and ice blinks hard. “she was with us, like, i swear, two seconds ago.”

“yeah, no,” sarah agrees. “she was just here.”

paige stares at them. “she wasn’t here when i walked up.”

“we was just smoking with her,” kk says casually.

“y’all, she left twenty minutes ago,” ayanna informs them. they all look at each other, then bust up laughing.

“god,” paige mumbles under her breath. she has a half a mind to tell the girls to stay put so they don’t get lost, but azzi is the only thing on her mind right now. if she hasn’t texted paige, she must not need saving from an awkward social situation. and if jana disappeared around the same time azzi did, maybe they found each other at the bathroom and decided to sneak off.

“y’all are no help,” she tells her friends before heading off, shouldering her way through the crowd until she gets past the bathroom line. she’s in the back of the apartment now, where it’s much quieter, and a whole lot more potent. paige wrinkles her nose. the stoners are back here, that’s for sure.

she opens up one door—there’s a group of red-eyed girls passing around a blunt, laughing at a joke someone made. they look up and a girl holds the joint up, but paige waves her off. “nah, i’m good. my fault.” she closes the door and continues on.

the next room is locked, and she doesn’t even wanna know what could be going on in there, so she moves straight on to the last door in the hallway. she cracks it open, and immediately, the smell of weed hits her like a truck. if she’d thought it was strong in the hallway, it’s like a fucking oven in here. and inside, three familiar faces: caroline, jana, and azzi, who looks perfectly unharmed, but also ten times more zooted than the last time paige saw her. and, why isn’t paige surprised, she’s crying.

azzi doesn’t see her—she’s too busy crying into her hands while caroline rubs her back and jana gives some sort of motivational speech—but carol does. even carol—responsible, mama carol—looks fried.

“oh, hey!” she says happily, smiling when she sees paige. jana looks over and cheers, “yoooo!”

jesus. did everyone decide to smoke without her? though, standing in the doorway, paige is sure she’s getting a contact high.

“hey, hey,” caroline is saying to azzi, jostling her a little. “look, honey, look who it is! it’s paige!”

azzi pulls her face out of her hands. her mascara is running, and when she sees paige, she practically wails.

“what the fuck?” paige asks. “what is going on with y’all?��

“well, jana asked if we wanted to smoke with her,” caroline supplies. jana nods.

“and she has some legit ass weed because i swear i only took, like, two puffs, and i’m high as hell,” caroline continues. jana nods again, proudly.

“and then we got on the topic of you and azzi started crying? i don’t know why. i thought she missed you. but maybe not. considering…”

“she’s been crying a lot today,” paige tells them.

jana snorts. “yeah, clearly. practice was crazy.”

paige shakes her head at the two of them, then walks inside, fanning a hand in front of her face to try and ward off the smell. “az,” she says gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. “what’s goin’ on, mama?”

azzi looks up. she looks at paige, who nods encouragingly at her. and then she looks at caroline, who smiles. and then she stands up and wipes her eyes and points at paige with such a viciousness it actually makes her scoot back a little.

“what’s going on?” she asks mockingly. “what’s going on?”

paige leans away from her finger. “uh…yeah?”

“you! you are what’s going on!” azzi cries. jana makes a small ‘oop’ noise and caroline stands up, muttering something about ‘gotta go, gotta go,’ while she ushers jana out, and then it’s just the two of them. paige looks longingly after them, because she feels like she’s in the middle of wwIII with no ammunition.

“i don’t—“ paige starts, but azzi cuts her off.

“it was you,” she seethes, “and that fucking girl in your stats class.”

paige stands, feeling a little less threatened now that they’re eye to eye, but no less fucking confused. “what?”

“that pretty fucking girl whose messages i found in your phone!” azzi continues on, throwing her hands in the air. she wipes furiously as more tears stream down her face. “i can’t believe…i thought you loved me…” she turns around, once again burying her face in her hands.

“baby, i do online school!” paige says, incredulous.

“and then,” azzi says darkly, as if she hadn’t heard her, “you went and fucking died.”

paige practically chokes. what is it with her girlfriend and death today? “azzi!” she says, taking her by the shoulder to spin her around. “the fuck are you talking about?”

“my dream, paige!”

paige stares at her for a moment, waiting for more. when nothing comes, she blinks. “wait. you’re telling me this whole—” she gestures vaguely around the weed-smoked war zone, “—meltdown is because of a dream?”

azzi lets out a choked sob and nods, eyes wide and glassy. “you died, paige. you cheated on me and then we fought and i walked away and then i tried to find you later but i couldn’t and you were dead and the last memory i had was of you calling me a stupid hoe—”

“okay, whoa,” paige says, holding up both hands, trying not to laugh. “first of all, why would i call you a stupid hoe if i was the one who cheated?”

“i don’t know!” azzi yells, frustrated tears falling freely again. “dream-you was so mean!”

paige finally breaks. she doubles over laughing, trying to muffle it behind her hands but failing completely. “you mean to tell me i’ve been getting dirty looks all day, got hit with a hairbrush, got woken up twice last night, cried on like five times, and now walked into a fucking hotbox death match—because of dream-me?”

“don’t laugh!” azzi cries, though her voice cracks and she’s fighting a smile now too. “it felt real! and i went to the bathroom and then i smoked and i realized i didn’t know where you were and i was starting to think maybe i dreamed this too.”

paige walks up to her and pulls her into a hug, burying her face in azzi’s shoulder, still chuckling. “you are so stupid. like, dangerously stupid

azzi mumbles something unintelligible into her shirt.

“what was that?” paige asks.

“i said i love you,” azzi repeats, louder now but still pouty. “even if you’re a ghost.”

paige laughs again, kisses the side of her head. “i’m not a ghost. i’m right here. and i love you too. even if you’re fucking insane.”

azzi sniffs. “you’d tell me if you were dead, right?”

paige pulls back just enough to look her in the eye, grinning. “baby. i promise i will never die without texting you first.”

azzi nods solemnly. “okay. good.”

and then she lays her head on paige’s chest like they haven’t just been yelling at each other in a smoky bedroom over something that didn’t even happen.

paige wraps her arms tighter around her and sighs. “i’m never letting you sleep again.”

❀❀❀

later that night, azzi is curled up like a shrimp in paige’s bed, half-tucked under the purple blanket, her other half dramatically hanging off the side like she’s forgotten how beds work.

“do you want water?” paige asks from across the room, holding up an owala like she’s offering a peace treaty.

“no,” azzi replies, voice muffled. “yes. no. i don’t know.” she flops over. “my mouth is dry but i don’t want to move.”

paige crosses the room, uncaps the bottle, and presses it gently to azzi’s lips. “open up, bighead.”

azzi sips obediently. “thank you,” she whispers, like paige just pulled her from a burning building.

paige sets the bottle down and climbs into bed beside her. “you’re lucky you’re cute, because today has been a journey.”

“you’re lucky i keep it cute,” azzi mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “or else i would’ve knocked your ass in that dream. i was holding back.”

paige snorts. “you think dream-you could take me?”

“girl, we both know real me could take your ass down.”

paige grins, pulling the blanket up over both of them. “i hope jana and carol don’t remember your meltdown tomorrow.”

“it was tragic,” azzi says, dead serious. “a tragic moment.”

“you’re the least tragic person i’ve ever met,” paige replies. “you cried and then called me a ghost.”

“you were dead, paige!”

“i was in the kitchen,” she says flatly. “eating chips.”

azzi opens one eye. “so you’re saying the chips were more important than me?”

paige stares at her. “go to sleep.”

azzi reaches for her under the covers and pulls her in with all the upper body strength she has left. “never leave me again,” she whispers.

“i left for twenty minutes.” paige thinks about it, then says, “and technically, you left me. i was all up in that party looking for your high ass.”

“never again.”

paige rolls her eyes, but settles in beside her, letting azzi press her cold toes against her shin like always. the room is quiet for a few minutes, and paige thinks maybe azzi’s finally asleep when she hears—

“hey, babe?”

“hm?”

“if you die in another dream, can i come with you this time?”

paige groans. “you are so weird.”

“but you love me.”

“unfortunately,” paige says, smiling in the dark. “yeah, i do.”

[softsunnyy]

ok but…the hughes boys each claiming a hole…and destroying u all at once…🎤🎤🎤

alr, i think this is too much... 👉🏻👈🏻

🚨 rough sex, little moments that seem non-con, but she enjoys it, i swear. Anal sex, oral sex. All your holes at the same time. Exposing you while you sleep. Using you while you sleep. A good pt.2?? Almost losing consciousness. You can't control your actions. Cumming too hard. And i think that's the majority. 🚨

@kawhh ; @ruinix <33

you feel like you're going crazy. You're overwhelmed, overstimulated, constantly horny, remembering what you did a couple of days ago.

you let your boyfriend fuck you... in front of his brothers.

god, you even put on a show for them, stripping for them and letting them use you to get off. You still remember Quinn's taste, and how good it feels to be filled by Luke.

you even dream about it.

and since that day, a few things have changed. The place is tense. Jack watches with amusement as his brothers seem on edge for you, while you move cautiously, nervous all the time, embarrassed.

and they don't make it easy for you either.

Quinn takes every opportunity to put his hands on your body, like when he saw you in the kitchen and grabbed your waist, moving you so he could reach a spoon. Of course, you knew it was on purpose. The way he made your ass rub against his bulge gave it away.

Luke's always watching you, no matter what you do, making you feel hot. Like when you wanted to sit with them, on that same couch, and his eyes kept looking at your legs, your chest, all of you.

you're surprised nothing more has happened, but you can feel the air getting heavier every day, as if you were standing in front of a bomb that could explode at any moment. You struggle to breathe, you feel so small in every room you enter, and being with the three of them in the same place is overwhelming, and you try to put distance between you and Jack in those situations because you can see his intentions.

you feel dirty, even guilty, because you can't stop thinking about them. You've had dreams about Quinn and Luke, of them fucking you, Luke forcing you to use his thigh, and then Quinn filling you with his long fingers. You've dreamed of having both of them at the same time, then waking up wrapped around your boyfriend.

you blame him because you didn't have these thoughts before, and now you can't stop. It's all you want and need. You need all three of them. You want to be exposed to them again, to be used; but you don't want to take the first step.

it's then that a week has passed, and you're on the same couch, watching a movie with Jack. Your body covered only by his shirt, and you took advantage of the fact that the house was empty to have a long time of entertainment.

your lower back hurts a little now, your legs are a little cramped, so Jack lets you lie on top of him, while he gently strokes your back.

you curl up, seeking his warmth, feeling sleepy and affectionate, wanting to have him as close as possible. And soon the movie began to fade behind you, the voices growing more distant, your vision blurred, your eyelids wanting to close.

in his arms, you fell asleep, forgetting where you were, your situation. Forgetting about your boyfriend's needs for a second.

a couple of minutes pass until the front door opens, and Quinn and Luke walk in, talking about what they did that day, looking at each other until they reach the living room, where they see the scene before them.

Jack smiled and continued stroking your back, watching his brothers' actions out of the corner of his eye, knowing full well that your ass is starting to peek out from the shirt, which is riding up more and more with each caress.

Quinn clears his throat, suddenly feeling heated, his eyes fixed on your thighs, on how your legs are on either side of his brother's hips, making you more exposed, as if you want them to see your pretty, used, still-full pussy.

Luke tries not to look, to ignore what he's feeling, but it's impossible. He can't not look when your ass is there. He wants to grab it, smack it, spit on it. He wants to shove his cock between you and make you whimper for him.

"sit down, she can give you a show," Jack spoke in a low tone, now looking at them, and they obeyed without saying a word, this time both sitting in the direction of your ass, completely attentive.

you're fast asleep, having sweet dreams, like a date with your boyfriend, enjoying the moment and the calm around you... until you start to feel hot. And the plot begins to change. Your boyfriend starts looking at you differently, his eyes lowering to your lips, his hand getting closer and closer to your thigh. Your cheeks begin to burn, and you know what's coming.

in real life, Jack begins to lift your (his) shirt, exposing your sweet pussy, with traces of his cum staining your swollen lips. With his hands, he grabs your ass cheeks, parting them, massaging them, leaving his fingers marked by his strong grip.

Quinn begins to unbutton his pants, releasing his cock, which is slowly hardening. He wants to shove his cock into your ass, fuck you so hard that you can only scream, babble, tears streaming down your eyes as he takes you. The thought alone makes his blood heat up and his legs tense.

Luke touches his bulge through his pants, watching his brother's cum slide out of your hole a little more, and he remembers when he did the same thing, filling you with him. He wants to do it again. He wants to fill you so much, making you pregnant.

and you? you whimper in your sleep, enjoying how fake Jack places his hand between your legs, caressing your pussy while kissing your neck. It makes you rub unconsciously, enjoying it.

the real Jack takes one of his hands from your ass to bring it to your pussy, masturbating you with two of his fingers, running between your folds, playing with your still sensitive and swollen clit. He can feel his fluids dripping over his fingers, and you moan, moving as if you know what's happening, as if you know there are more people watching.

Quinn can't take his eyes off you, everyone can hear how hard and fast he pulls on his cock, thinking of so many things he could do to your body, without caring that you're his brother's girlfriend.

Luke decides to release his cock, big, veiny, and completely hard thanks to you, because of the wonderful view you're giving them.

your dream becomes more and more explicit, the fake Jack sliding his fingers so deep, while the real one rubs your clit faster and faster, moving his fingers in circles, slapping your pussy, making your juices squirt and wet everything.

you moan, moving faster and faster, more roughly, seeking your release, making Jack give you what you want, under the eyes of his brothers. And it's when you're about to cum that you wake up, dizzy, your vision blurred, your mind fogged, breathing heavily, your hole throbbing, your folds wet, and your boyfriend smiling.

you're confused, but you break into a moan when his fingers don't stop moving, torturing you. You say his name like a broken record, rubbing yourself against his bulge, your eyes fixed on him.

"Jack, i'm gonna..." your gasp interrupts you, and you rest your hands on his chest, moving faster and faster, your legs shaking. It was the best way to wake up.

it's then that he looks behind you and decides to speak, "come on, join us."

your eyes widen, but you can't straighten up because one of his hands is holding you still, pressed against his body. Then you feel a presence behind you, and warm, large hands grab your waist.

someone stands at the end of the couch, in front of your face, and when you look up, you find Luke, grinning, his cock out, almost touching your cheek.

"what?" you panic a little, wanting to back away, feeling so exposed, but they won't let you.

Jack's hands leave your body, and he begins to unbutton his pants, pulling them down with some difficulty, followed by his underwear. His cock is so hard and big.

it's then that you realize how lost you are, the compromising position, your dreams coming true, and you can't help but whimper, feeling like a whore, eager for his cocks, to be filled in every hole until you can't think of anything but sex.

you feel addicted, overwhelmed, your mind completely clouded, and you have no rational thought. You feel like you've been set up, but you can't even get angry about it.

refuse or let them use you? i think the answer is easier than you think.

one of your hands moves down to your boyfriend's cock, and your body rises slightly. You align his tip against your hole, which throbs, desperate to be filled. The hands on your waist force you down, sliding him into your tight walls until he bottoms out, drawing a moan from your throat.

your pussy was already sore, stretched, and you can feel it breaking again, making your poor walls ache. But at the same time, it's incredibly pleasurable, and you can't help but let whimpers escape your mouth.

Jack tries to move you, to get you used to it once more, knowing your body is still sore, but also knowing you need to cum, to release.

Quinn and Luke are patient, giving you time, but when you start moving on your own, jerking, making Jack's cock slide in faster and faster, they knew they could keep going.

Luke places his hand on your chin and forces you to look at him. Your neck aches, your eyes glassy, your lips reddish, and you see him, his big cock right in front of your face. You don't hesitate to open your mouth, ready for him, and he's quick slide in, slowly, inch by inch until you're choking. His tip touches so deep in your throat it makes you gag, and yet it doesn't come out, but instead begins to move. Your moans are dying now, vibrating against his skin.

your pussy welcomes your boyfriend eagerly, recognizing him, welcoming him home, molding to his size, suffocating him, your juices flying, and a ring of his old cum forming at its base.

Luke places one of his hands in your hair, and makes you swallow him deeper as he begins to move. You can feel it throbbing, how hot it is, and you try to calm the gags a little. You want to make him feel good. You wanna feel his cum going down your throat.

but someone's missing, waiting for you to feel comfortable, safe, calm. Someone waiting for your body to stop being tense, riding Jack's cock like it's the last time, while you swallow Luke's as if it's the last thing you could do.

Quinn was attentive, he waited, he analyzed, he let his cock reach its limit, and when the pain was unbearable, he decided he would use you.

and he won't be gentle, he won't be sweet.

you're a whore to them, so he's going to treat you like this.

with his hands, he spreads your ass cheeks. Your other hole is so tight, calling out to him. He knows you'll be so tight, that you'll take him so well. God, you're going to suffocate him. He'll never want to leave you again.

he adjusted himself, found a way to get comfortable, and then grabbed his cock, touching your hole with his tip. You almost panicked. You felt so full, so satisfied. You didn't think anything else could enter your body, but your mind was so foggy, your body so helpless. You couldn't say anything, just accept what was coming.

he began to slide in, sighing heavily, feeling the difference. You squeezed him so hard, it was hard to move, but he forced his way in, pushing his way in, expanding your walls brutally. And you screamed, moaning against Luke's cock, while you drool and fat tears fell down your cheeks, landing on Jack's face, who enjoyed it, feeling how you were even tighter now, so tense.

Quinn only gave you a couple of seconds, but then he started moving and it was rough, it was fast, making Jack's cock slide in faster than before. And you feel full, your holes aching, your throat strained. Your face is a mess, and your pussy is so soaked that juices are spurting out, staining everything.

your pussy is red, irritated, your ass is pink. You can't do anything, you can't control your movements, you just let them move, using you at their pace. You're like their doll, their toy.

they move faster, seeking their own release, and you're so lost in your sensations that you can't even warn them that the knot has formed inside you again, even stronger than before. Your legs spasm, your hands become fists, your belly aches and tingles, and when it happens, neither Quinn nor Jack can move, feeling you come.

from that moment on, you completely lose control, your jaw loosens, your body almost completely falling onto Jack's. You see colored dots, getting closer to losing consciousness, but you let them use you, let them continue. And you feel overstimulated, too full.

Luke is the first of the three to cum, filling your throat, making you choke, unable to breathe, just swallow and swallow. He tastes delicious to you, and when he removes his cock from your mouth, you unconsciously try to follow him, to get him back in you, which makes the three of them laugh at you.

he caresses your cheek, watching your eyes slowly close, and after locking eyes with Jack, he decides to place a small kiss on your lips, tasting his own flavor, making you whimper, receiving affection after a while.

with his kisses, he tries to distract you, to make you feel warm, but they're destroying you, giving you no rest, hammering inside you, as if they're competing to see who will leave you unable to walk. Like they're competing to own your body, and their egos are so big that they won't rest until they're done with that fight.

your clit rubs against Jack's body again and again, and when another knot forms inside you, you have to pull away from Luke's mouth, crying, begging them to have mercy, to stop for a moment. They pay no attention, and you reach your limit once more, closing your eyes tightly. Then they both cum inside you, at the same time, filling you with thick white strips, each claiming a hole, filling you so much.

you're swollen, irritated, and your vision so blurry and dark that you're not surprised when your entire body collapses, causing you to fall completely on top of Jack, battling between consciousness and unconsciousness, your breathing heavy, but feeling incredibly satisfied.

you've dreamed about this a thousand times since what happened, but you never thought you'd feel this good. You don't think you can stop after this. You need them like you need breathing.

can Jack learn to share long-term? you used to be just his girl, and he doesn't like the way Luke keeps looking at you with hearts in his eyes, while Quinn refuses to come out of you, challenging him with his gaze.

what did he do?

[muchanmocha]

Breakdown of Hyun Woo's Incident

That day, Luka was clinging to a troubled Hyuna while Hyun Woo tried to make him let go. Luka is either sweating heavily or crying here (unusually expressive and emotive for him) as he adamantly refuses to release her.

Hyun Woo is deeply upset and loses his patience. He resorts to violence.

In the ensuing scuffle between the two, Hyun Woo's head made lethal impact with a rock.

His death wasn't intentional — the rock was embedded in the ground.

(If the point was that Luka purposefully killed him, the rock would've been loose to imply it's a weapon he used to bash Hyun Woo's head with.)

Luka doesn't even seem to register or care about Hyun Woo's state. He's singlehandedly focused on the joy of being able to return to Hyuna now that no one is stopping him.

This is the main reason Hyuna resents him — he doesn't even acknowledge Hyun Woo's death and what happened.

Can she blame someone who doesn't know? Can she forgive someone who doesn't understand? She can only resent him.

"It's you who's in the wrong."

"Bet you had no idea."

— All-In

Now the question is why was Hyun Woo so upset? That's not the expression of an ordinary day-to-day conflict.

The answer:

Luka changed his behavior at some point. Specifically, this point.

Before this, Luka was aloof and unemotive. He cared about the two of course ("Your life is mine" (/matter of fact)) in his own way, but it's a drastic difference from the tunnel vision he gets later on where just the sight of Hyuna brings him an overjoyed smile regardless of circumstances.

This moment with Hyuna is the changing point for him. His controlling friendship (likely towards both Hyuna and Hyun Woo) and his entire world, is consumed by an unhealthily anxious love for Hyuna.

This abrupt development catches her off guard and she isn't sure how to react. She's certainly not okay with it.

Hyun Woo was worked up that day because ever since then, Luka has started to become obsessively clingy towards his sister and this is likely just the most recent in a series of incidents where he refused to let Hyuna go despite her wishes (Hyuna is looking at Luka as she raises her hand with a troubled face).

It's possible there's jealousy here feeling like Luka's trying to monopolize his sister, but I think it's more likely he was angry on Hyuna's behalf due to Vivimeng's repeated emphasis on how he has a strong sense of justice.

He also may have heard about Luka attempting to force himself on Hyuna and was agitated by the need to protect his sister and get him away from her.

Lastly, Wiege makes it clear that Hyun Woo and Luka both considered each other friends.

Luka's pov — The camera is low because he's looking up at them as the smallest one.

Luka's drawing — He's standing between the siblings and holding both of their hands.

[authorhjk1]

Can you do a headcannon for IVE (except L33se0) on how each of them would ask to be bred and how they would react once they do get their pussy filled with cum. Also I love your fics for SNSD, they are my ults and it's so hard to find fics for them here

Gaeul

You rest your head against the wall. Gaeul is trapped between you and the white, unforgiving surface. Her feet aren't touching the floor, your carrying her, or rather nailing her, against the wall.

"C-Can you please..."

Her words come to a hold, when you fuck her harder.

"Please cum inside?"

Her head sinks down onto your shoulder, but you hear her moaning, begging you to fill her.

Being already close anyway, it only takes you a couple of thrusts, before you finally fill Gaeul. She sighs into your neck, warmth spreading through her body.

"Thank you."

She gives you a weak kiss and as she pulls away, you can see how tired she already is.

Yujin

Yujin's face is buried in the sheets of her bed, so you can't make out what she says at first. But you decide to reach forward. Your hand rests on her head, your fingers reaching her forehead. You pull her up, so she can speak properly, while you keep pounding into her from behind.

"Please breed me, daddy! I deserve it!"

You let her head fall back onto the mattress, you've heared enough.

"I'm begging you."

She tilts her head to the side, so that she doesn't get muffled by the sheets again.

"I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

You both know the answer to that question, but it's not like you have a choice. Yujin's sloppy pussy is the only place you can cum in.

And that's what you're doing now. You push her even further into the mattress, almost lying on top of her, as you dump your load deep inside of her. Once your vision clears, you can see how Yujin opens and closes her fists as she tries to hold onto the sheets. You hear muffled moans, her body twitches once or twice and then she just lies there, catching her breath.

Rei

"Are you going to give me all of it?"

You hesitate, trying to hold on. You're not often this lucky. Usually you're the one who has to satisfy her. But Rei has made it today's mission to drain you completely. Which means she has been riding you for a while now. That cute face looking down on you, asking you to breed her... Who could say no?

"I've worked so hard for it. I deserve to be bred. Please? I'll do anything. And I-"

Rei's eyes roll to the back of her head as she feels you cuming inside of her. Her body freezes, a cute moan escapes her lips.

"Oh my god..."

Eventually, Rei places a hand on her stomach.

"Thank you."

Once again, that cute smile...

Wonyoung

It's always about punishment with Wonyoung. Acting bratty or bad is her way of telling you she wants it hard and rough. Which includes breeding her. At least most of the time.

"Are you really going to breed this naughty princess? I bet you can't even knock me up."

You're tempted to just bite her nose off. She is lying on her back, while you stand in front of the bed, pounding into her. You've leaned down so far by now, that you're almost face to face. You take a hold of her pigtails once more, slightly pulling at them.

"Breed me already, daddy. If I want something, I must get it."

You feel yourself getting closer. If she wasn't this tight... If she wasn't this warm around your cock... If her sweet face wasn't so close to you... Maybe you would be able to teach her a lesson.

But you can't. You're too deep inside of her. You don't even notice how her long, slender legs have wrapped themselves around your body, pulling you in closer.

"Breed your princess, daddy."

Your curse her and yourself as you finally do as she asks of you. Wonyoung moans and sighs in pleasure as she feels your seed filling her womb.

"Daddy..."

She smiles up at you as you slowly back away. You watch how she quickly places her hand over her freshly fucked pussy as you pull out. She manages to keep most of your cum inside.

Liz

This is very unusual for her. The fact that the two of you are in public. And that she is telling you where she wants it.

You're usually having sex in the privacy of your home. And Liz prefers it, when you choose for yourself where you want to cum.

But after her friend told her during dinner that she is having a baby soon, you're now doing your best to to breed Liz in the restaurant's restroom.

"Please... I want it too. C-Can you please cum inside me? As deep as possible? Please?"

She whines and begs and you can't do anything else but do as she asks. You catch her reaching for her panties, which are just loosely hanging around her thighs, when she feels you pulsating inside of her.

"Liz..."

You whisper her name as you cum inside, making her close her eyes, a satisfied smile on her lips.

When you eventually pull out, she quickly puts her panties back on. A moment later, a big wet spot appears on the blue fabric.

[soulwrencher]

ALL STRINGS ATTACHED

vi x reader | summary: vi hates that you're not hers. whatever will she do about her yearning heart? | warnings: not proofread, just a pinch of angst, and also fluff, i think?

"god, how did you get up here?" you were panting like a dog, palms resting on your thighs all the while black dots were starting to impair your vision. but there she was, sitting on a ledge that views over piltover. you have plenty of memories sitting there, memories of times when it seemed like hardships were never-ending. you always had let the grand buildings of this city overbear your troubles, but tonight, the moonlight shining on vi's broad shoulders has shrunk the city. and you had another observation: she was ignoring you, hard at that.

your eyes wander and dance around the rims of her tank top, you won't find answers there, you tell yourself. her jacket hangs off a broken wire fence seemingly untended, but that couldn't keep your attention for long. your eyes trace vi's inked skin, and suddenly your vision clears up, however your heart can't seem to stop palpitating...

so you take a deep breath, which quickly turns into three and a nasty cough.

"what?" vi asks sharply, you're still facing her back. of course you coughing out of all things caught her attention.

"i was—" you watch vi slightly turn her head at the sound of your footsteps approaching.

"—looking for you," you sit down next to her and steal a glance at vi, only to realize you've missed the chance to meet her eyes.

grayish blue eyes are glued to the night sky, vi was trying her hardest to ignore you, but your presence takes up all of her mind. she puffs out her cheeks, eyes you for a second before letting out a big sigh. flirting, meaningless kisses, casual sex, she was no stranger to that. she felt the tension akin to a fitted sheet, felt it stretch in between every single word and glance you exchanged. but the thought of touching you only for the sake of it makes her guts turmoil.

she squeezes her eyes shut and her eyebrows furrow, what was vi thinking about? maybe there was an answer lying on her exposed skin, because how else were you able to explain being distracted by her facial scars and her back tattoo climbing up her neck? you inhale sharply, hold it in your lungs for a second or two and squeeze your thighs together. you didn't understand why you kept running after her, and frankly, vi didn't comprehend why she kept letting you in.

but upon hearing you sigh and watching your head sink, vi couldn't deny it any longer. she looks down at her hands, they were all dry and calloused. she presses her lips into a thin line, this wasn't the time to let insecurities occupy her mind, and besides, do you even care about her? fuck, she really wants you to.

you inch a little closer, until your thighs are touching, vi glances at your knees. you stare into the sky just like she's been doing; you don't know why you wanted to find her, or do you?

"vi," you whisper. tired eyes meet yours for the first time and oh god, you were so close to vi's face too. her eyes keep searching for yours, even though you're right there, rapid eye movement, but this isn't a dream. in fact, this is very real, so real that her name leaving your lips makes her question everything. vi stares at your lips and you blush, but you stopped caring about keeping your composure the second you saw her eyes soften when you called out her name.

and vi is far from keeping her composure, she's all worked up, fingers fiddling. you got her questioning what this all meant, what are we, what are we—

"what are we?" vi blurts. her eyes widen and her cheeks start to look like her hair. silence, you blink hard, you become painfully self conscious, am i breathing too loud? you catch a glimpse of vi's soft eyes, before they're glued down to her hands. hands that always brush against your shoulders ever so gently and fingertips that make you feel like porcelain, she's always been so... soft with you.

so you reach for her hand and rub her palm with your thumb. she notices that you're slightly shaking and glides her fingers over the gap between your thumb and index finger, however stops and rests them on the back of your hand. you were so close, you could feel her breath staggering in anticipation. what is vi hoping for? im setting myself up for failure for sure. but she's scared to take her hand away, it's a simple, easy act, but she can't. she can't take her eyes off of you, she can't stop wondering about you, she doesn't want to let you go. after all, she has lost so much, was it selfish to want something for once? vi knows better than this.

she lets go off your hand, exhales sharply and furrows her eyebrows. ouch.

"i don't know, violet." you really didn't know. you don't want to get hurt again, you can't bear her breaking your heart. your heart wrenches at the sight of vi genuinely looking lost, maybe you cared more than you wanted to. and she's been the one to ask you that question in the first place, so either you get rejected or not, fuck it, there's no going back.

"but i do know you've been hurting," you whisper, carefully reaching for her face to cup, will she let you?

"what do you know," vi mumbles and looks down, but the warmth of her face in your palm was hard to ignore. vi was hard to ignore, she's always been.

so you place a soft kiss on the scar decorating her eyebrow and rub the back of her hand. vi looks at you, from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips. she sighs, once again, and purses her lips. vi doesn't understand why you're not giving up on her, and she understands less why she doesn't want you to. it was a mistake to ask, or was it? was it a mistake when you were holding her calloused hands and kissing her scars?

hesitant glances, shaky palms, but your steady breath grounds her. she cups your face, blood rushes through your body. your cheeks burn, your heart burns, your lips burn under her gaze.

"don't make me regret this, cutie." vi rests her forehead against yours, eyes moving side-to-side before fixating on your lips.

"cutie?" you ask sternly.

"yeah, you're cute," she chuffs while rubbing your cheek. you didn't know why you were pretending to be unshakable, but it didn't matter, because the small smile on the lips vi has been dying to kiss betrayed your facade.

"so... can i?" vi whispers, but her heart screams to tear that facade down. you're taken aback, how did i get here? you get lost in her hungry eyes and your heart drops down between your thighs.

vi's breath tickles your face as you lean in closer to press your lips against the scar on her lip. you back away just an inch and bite down your lip.

and it was all it took to push vi over the edge, enough to drive her absolutely crazy. her chest moves up and down, her hands don't know whether to rest on your face or neck, up and down, her lips brush over yours, up and down.

hungry, sloppy kisses that leave your stomach tingling and your thighs squeezed tightly together. vi's hands were tangled in your hair, lips slightly parted for you to slip your tongue in and for hot breath to escape. your hands travel down her waist, she hiccups.

"you're the cute one," you whisper into her neck, trailing wet kisses up to her lips. vi winces, small noises escape her mouth as her whole body reacts in desperation, she was cute.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 5

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 4 | Series Masterlist | Part 6

Chapter Summary: You talk to Addison, but may have dug a deeper hole for yourself. Bucky has a chat with you, too.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon phone sex, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, reader is trying to stay calm, needy Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. I no longer do taglists, so please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. It never rang that early, minus the occasional call from the shop to see if you could go in early. With a groan, you opened your eyes halfway to glance at the device. You closed them when your vision cleared to read the name.

Bucky.

“Mmm. Too early for that,” you mumbled, rolling over to hug your pillow as the call went to voicemail.

He messaged you after you told him you had plans for the night, but you didn't read it. In fact, you hadn't glanced at your phone for the remainder of the evening after you got ready for bed. You only knew of the messages since your phone kept digging. You went through the rest of your normal routine and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. The date took a lot out of you.

Was it a good idea to ignore him though? This was a man used to getting what he wanted and for things to be done his way. There was a chance he wouldn't take you not responding to him well. Well, if he “cared” about you the way he claimed, he’d have to deal with it. Besides, it hadn't even been half a day since you spoke to him.

You bolted upright at the knock on the apartment door. “What the hell?” You whispered, pushing the covers back. Forcing yourself out of bed, you threw on your robe before you went to answer it. Your heart thudded as you looked through the peephole, half expecting to see Bucky on the other side. Your shoulders relaxed when you didn’t see anyone, but you only opened the door a crack.

A familiar scent filled your nostrils as you opened it more. It reminded you of the bakery you liked to visit once a week. Homey, warm, comforting. But your stomach turned when you spotted the bag since you hadn’t ordered anything.

Glancing down each side of the hall to make sure no one was there, you snatched up the bag and locked your door. Your lip wobbled when you looked inside and saw the note on top of the container. It matched the handwriting from the note in your bedroom.

“Most important meal of the day. Enjoy.”

You had half a mind to throw it out, but your grumbling stomach protested. It was your usual when you stopped into that bakery and for good reason since it was delicious. It should’ve been a nice gesture. It should’ve put a smile on your face. But how could it be when Bucky didn’t learn those things about you naturally?

The doorbell rang again as you got to the table, your heart jolting from the sound and the bag dropping to the surface. “Get a grip,” you whispered, going back to the door. Maybe Bucky could send you to a spa so you could try to relax. Not that you would ask him. He wasn’t your boyfriend.

Didn’t matter how rich he was.

You looked through the peephole again, smiling when you saw Addison on the other side. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her caffeine likely kicking in already. “Hey,” you greeted her when you opened the door.

“Hey yourself!” Addison smiled, pulling you in for a hug. She raised an eyebrow as she stepped back and took a good look at you. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Never better,” you tried to smile, stepping aside so she could go in. Guilt crept in from not being honest with a simple question. You weren't great at all. “Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to stop by so early, that’s all," you replied, double checking the lock on the door.

“I thought I’d swing by to check on you before I went to work. I didn't hear from you after I texted you and you’re usually really great about texting me back, so I wasn't sure if you were upset that we had to reschedule our plans or if something else was going on.” She paused when your face fell. You were so busy ignoring Bucky that you forgot to reply to her. “Maybe upset isn’t the right word, but bummed? I know we haven’t had much girl time lately outside of my wedding stuff.”

“I'm so sorry. I’m not upset. Last night just got away from me,” you assured her. “Bummed, I’ll give you that.” You added teasingly.

“Are you sure? I feel bad for bailing.”

“Please, don't,” you said. She had no reason to feel bad. “You get to go to The Terrace tonight, which is amazing. I don’t blame you at all for rescheduling.”

Brady was not only a nice guy and a hard worker, but he practically worshiped the ground Addison walked on. He would spoil her rotten if he could. He just wanted to make her happy and she wanted the same for him. It was the kind of relationship you admired.

Addison nudged you with a smile. “Have I told you how awesome you are? And right? I couldn’t believe it when Brady told me. It’s The Terrace!”

“You two will have a great time.” You said, leading her to the table so you didn't have to linger by the door. They deserved a nice night out. “Okay, I’m being nosy, but did he happen to say how he got the reservation? I mean, they’re usually pretty booked.”

“So, listen to this,” she began as she sat down. She had your full attention. “His new boss pulled him into his office yesterday and told him what a great job he’s been doing. Gave him a bonus and everything for all his hard work and said to celebrate by taking me out for dinner at a place of his choosing. He said ‘The Terrace’ thinking there’s no possible way, right?”

“Right,” You said, taking the food out of the bag and being careful to not let her see the note. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks. I ate before I left, but that looks amazing,” she said before she continued. “Two phone calls later, there was a table booked for us! I think he was a little embarrassed when he told me since someone else technically pulled some strings for him, but I don’t care. He works his ass off and it’s about time it was recognized.”

“I agree,” you said, replaying the words in your mind. “Wait, did you say new boss?”

“Yeah, just started a couple of weeks ago. Kind of surprised Brady since his old boss still had a year or so left, but he took early retirement. And the new boss takes his job pretty seriously, but seems like a good guy from what I’ve heard.”

You swallowed heavily. “What… What’s his name? The new boss?”

Addison’s brows furrowed as you picked at the food. “I think his name is Nick. Why?”

Your next breath was much easier. Bucky was making you paranoid in all aspects of life. “No reason. I just think that’s really nice of him,” you smiled.

Your friend didn’t look convinced for a moment. “You sounded and looked really weird when you asked.”

“Just hungry. You know how I get,” you said, forcing yourself to take a bite.

She raised an eyebrow before she shrugged. “At least you don’t get hangry like Dana,” she teased. “But yes! It was nice of him. It’s a great way to support employees.” Her eyes lit up before she smacked the table. “Ooh! I should ask if he’s single.”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that, please,” you begged. The last thing you needed to deal with was pulling an innocent man into whatever was going on with you and Bucky.

“Why not? We need to find you a man and he’s good looking. Or you know what? I think one of the groomsmen might also be single now. Maybe we could set you up with him?”

“No, Addison,” you said, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you when she had no idea what had transpired in your life over the last couple of days.

Your friend sank back in her chair, her previous excitement gone. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you said, putting another bite of food into your mouth in the hopes that you’d keep more words from tumbling out. It wasn’t good to keep it bottled up, but a powerful man had threatened her. Your best friend.

“Oh, yeah? Then give me a good reason why I shouldn’t set you up with someone. Just one,” she challenged.

“Okay, fine.” Bucky’s face shimmered in your mind as you said, “It isn't set in stone, but I may have a date for the wedding. Maybe.”

You shifted in your seat, wishing you didn’t say that. It was the only thing that could possibly stop Addison from setting you up with someone else. Pulling anyone else into whatever game Bucky was playing wasn’t a smart move. Not until you could figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

Addison's eyes went wide as she sat up and swatted at your arm. “Oh, my God! You’re asking about The Terrace when you buried the lead?! No wonder you’ve been off this morning! Tell me everything!”

“There isn't much to tell really, but…” Your heart sank as your friend literally moved to the edge of her seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and happiness. “He's handsome. Successful. Headstrong. Likes to read in his spare time. And for some reason, he really seems to like me.”

“Ahh! This is amazing. You're really growing out of your shell. I'm so proud of you.” Addison nearly knocked you out of your chair when she launched at you and hugged you tight. “And what do you mean he likes you ‘for some reason’? You’re a fucking goddess, okay? Say it. Say ‘I’m a fucking goddess’.”

“You’re a fucking goddess,” you joked, giggling when she hugged you tighter. “Okay, okay. I’m a fucking goddess. Let me breathe, please.”

“Yeah, you are.” She pulled back to take a seat again, a wide smile still on her face. “This is amazing news. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Well, I'm sure everyone will love him,” you said. And you had no doubt they would. Something told you he would be the perfect charmer, telling everyone what they wanted to hear and showing them what they wanted to see. As well as being a doting boyfriend.

“If you like him then he must be great.”

“Yeah,” you said. You probably would’ve liked Bucky if things played out differently. “And you're sure he can go? I understand if he can't and I'm sure he would, too, since the wedding is just around the corner and it’s still so new.”

“Of course, he can go. Everyone is going to be thrilled.” She took one of your hands when you looked in your lap. You didn’t want to look up in case tears sprang to your eyes. “Hey. You’ve been the bridesmaid long enough. It’s about time you meet someone who finally makes you the bride.”

Tears filled your eyes anyway, but you blinked them away. If Bucky had his way, you’d be his bride soon enough. “Listen. Addison-”

“Shit, I gotta go before I’m late. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed her bag as she stood up and gave you one last hug. She was in such a hurry that she thankfully didn’t catch your misty gaze. It was better that way. “Text me, okay? We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“And I won’t say anything to the rest of the girls until you do,” she promised, rushing to the door. “Seriously, so happy for you!”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” you called after her. “Have fun tonight!”

“I will! Love you!”

The door shut, leaving you alone and in silence. You placed your head on the table with a groan. You were an idiot. No, that was cruel to think about yourself. You just felt cornered and reacted accordingly. And now you had to bring Bucky to the wedding, which was what he wanted.

What have I gotten myself into?

You lifted your head after a minute to finish your breakfast. As much as you wanted to lay about all day, you had to be productive. Plus you had to look at your phone eventually. You wondered how many more times Bucky messaged you. You also wondered if there were any stories or articles about him online.

Would snooping make things better or worse?

Making sure your front door was locked, you finally went to retrieve your phone. Stretching out on your bed, you picked up the phone and swiped until you got to Bucky’s messages. You scrolled through to the last one you sent, when you told him you had plans.

“You have plans? They really want to meet you.”

“I can still bring the dress over if you want. Just in case.”

“Already thinking about our second date. I want to make it special. I never want to stop wooing you.”

“Sweet dreams. Wish you were here so I could hold you.”

Your heart sank as you kept reading them, the words blurring together on the screen.

“Having a hard time sleeping since you haven’t answered me. I hope you're okay.”

“Maybe I should get you a new phone.”

“Ignoring me, Kotyonok? Playing hard to get?”

The last message came through a minute ago.

“Should I just come over and check on you?”

Your heart jumped to your throat as you typed out a message. What were the chances of him showing up if you didn’t respond? It was better not to risk it. You had ignored him enough. “Sorry, Bucky. I’m not glued to my phone and I crashed last night after our date. Thanks for sending breakfast over. That was a surprise.”

It wasn’t the end of the conversation, of course. “It’s okay. Just worries me when I don’t hear from you.” As if he had the right to worry about you when he caused you worry to begin with. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You went to set your phone down, but saw more dots on the screen. “You sure I can’t see you tonight? The guys are really eager to meet you. I want you to meet them, too.”

Reading that made your stomach roll. Would they be like Ray? Complicit? “I told you I have plans. I’m sorry. Maybe another time.”

Another message popped up almost immediately. “Which one do you like better?”

Two images of Bucky appeared after the text. He stood with confidence in front of a sleek sink that you could only assume was in his bathroom. The pictures were nearly identical, minus the fact that the first image had him in a dark green jacket and the second had him in blue. But that wasn’t what made your next breath shaky.

He stared right into the mirror, the lens capturing his gaze so that it penetrated the screen. He seemed to be looking right at you. Unflinching. Unwavering.

Your fingers shook as you typed back to him. “The blue. It brings out your eyes.”

Your phone rang a second later. Now he was calling. You let it ring for a bit longer before you answered. “Hello?”

“Morning, Kotyonok.” He purred on the other end. “Hope I'm not bothering you. I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Morning.” When has a man ever called just to hear you speak? “Not sure why you need to hear it. I don’t think my voice is nice to listen to,” you said.

He chuckled. “You have a beautiful voice. I could listen to you talk all day.” Your cheeks flamed. He knew how to lay it on thick. “You’re right about the jacket. The blue is the better choice. And it’ll be a lot easier to get your opinion once we’re living together.”

You shut your eyes and counted to three. “So, you’re still convinced I’m going to live with you?”

“Before the end of the month. My promise to you.”

“We’ll see,” you said, blaming your lack of wit on your lack of caffeine.

There was some shuffling in the background that you could only make out since you went quiet. “Excited to meet my friends tonight?”

“I’m not meeting them tonight. I told you more than once that I have plans,” you reiterated. You weren't budging on that, even if all you’d do was curl up with a book. He didn't have to know.

He chuckled again, like he knew a secret you didn't. “That’s right. You did tell me that.” It was strange that he didn't ask what your plans were. “Are you ready for the day? Or are you still not dressed?”

Your eyes flickered around the room. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t see you. It was fine. “I still need to shower and get ready,” you said.

He hummed. “The shower here is nice. You’ll love the tub here, too. Has plenty of room for both of us.”

“Bucky-”

“It’s perfect for me to fuck you in it.” His voice was rougher and you thought you heard him incorrectly. “I dreamt about that last night. Bouncing you up and down on my cock as your cries filled the room, the water splashing around us. Sounded so fucking pretty.”

Your mouth fell open when you heard more shuffling. And moaning. A deep, hungry moan. “What are you…” Was he… Was he touching himself as he spoke to you? Jerking off? No. He couldn’t be. “Bucky, I’m-”

“I love hearing you say my name. Say it again, Kotyonok,” he rasped, his breathing heavier. So was yours. “Say it.”

You bit your tongue. You didn’t want to say it or hear any of this. It was filthy. Wrong. But you obeyed anyway. “Bucky,” you whispered.

The next sound he let out was something you could only describe as pornographic. “I’m so hard for you. And you’re wet for me, aren’t you? Fuck, I wish I was there to take care of you.” You rubbed your thighs together and ignored the heat in your body. It was a natural reaction. Fear. It had to be. “Talk to me. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

“I…” Your eyes squeezed shut, your chest lightly heaving. Dread gripped you and you didn’t know what to say. “I can’t.”

“Oh, I’ve imagined that, too. Telling me you can’t take my cock. That it’s too big. Too much.” He panted and something told you to keep listening instead of hanging up on him. “You’ll take it. You’ll take me. Like a good girl.”

You covered your mouth, afraid of whatever sound would come out as his heavy breathing persisted in your ear. You could almost imagine him pinning you down with his weight, taking you apart. Making you say his name. Spilling inside you as he said yours.

Bucky said he wasn't a monster. That he wouldn't hurt you. But what was he going to do to you?

“Fuck, you’ll look so gorgeous when I…” Bucky trailed off, all sounds of pleasure on his end coming to a halt. “For fuck’s sake, what?! What is so fucking important right now?!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, your heart pounding. You thought you heard Ray in the background, but couldn’t be sure. “I-I should probably go,” you said, grateful for the interruption.

“I understand, Ray. Just give me a fucking second.” Bucky exhaled before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

His tone was much gentler since it was directed back at you. “So do I. I need to shower,” you said. To wash off whatever just transpired even though he didn't touch you.

“Wish I was there to help clean you up and get you dirty all over again.” You heard the smile in his voice and fought the urge to get sick. “Have a good day, okay? We’ll finish this later. I promise.”

You tossed your phone away and sat up, your hands gripping the sheets as you inhaled and exhaled. Did that really just happen? One-sided phone sex or whatever the hell it was? The sounds of his moans rang in your ears. Thankfully the heat was no longer spreading through your body.

This wasn't your fault.

But you could’ve yelled for him to stop. You could’ve hung up. You didn’t do either of those things. Could've, would've, should've.

Where was your fire?

“It’s fine,” you whispered, biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood. “I’m fine. This is all going to be fine.”

You refused to be anything other than fine. And he wasn’t at your place, so you were safe and sound, right? You had to be.

Lying to yourself didn't make you feel any better. It didn’t stop you from rushing to the toilet when you dry heaved. And it didn't stop you from wondering when he’d finish what he started over the phone.

Bucky continues to leave an impression, doesn't he? And he's convinced you're going to see his friends, isn't he? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 happy birthday

synopsis: it's a known fact that zoro can't stand his birthday... but when you finally discover the date, you can't help putting together something special

cw: nsfw (male & fem receiving), spanking, dirty talk, zoro's a little rough, some leather, some comfort, maybe a little ooc zoro but who gives a shit, reader + nami = trouble, usopp's a real og, reader can see visions, reader has black angel wings, both aren't really pertinent to the story but they're described, etc.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!

"Ladies, I need your assistance," you stated, plainly, approaching your two best friends—who were lounging on the deck chairs—and plopping yourself down next to them.

This was beyond urgent.

"Of course, (y/n)," Nami nodded, dropping her magazine in her lap and glancing up at you with an inviting smile. "What's up?"

"Is everything alright?" Robin asked, slightly concerned.

"Everything's... fine," you nodded, unconvincingly, actively trying to think up a way to explain. "I just... I did a thing... and learned something I probably shouldn't have... about Zoro."

'Huh?'

"About Zoro?" she raised a brow, now even more intrigued.

"Did he hurt you? Or say something stupid again?" Nami's gaze turned sharp, the woman sitting up rigidly in her seat, ready to go to war. "If he did, I swear, I'll wring his muscly-ass neck!"

"No, no! Not that," you quickly assured, shaking your head. "It's something from his past... from before he met me."

"What happened?" Robin asked, shutting her book, now fully invested. "From the start, if you don't mind."

You nodded, looking down at your lap and recalling the events of the last hour.

"I was doing my daily meditation on the roof of the crow's nest, y'know, like I always do, when I was suddenly hit with a vision," you started. "Now, it didn't come as harshly as the others typically do, so I assumed that it was going to be about something trivial. But that changed when a young Zoro suddenly came into view."

The women sat quietly, listening intently as they took in each word.

"He was training, super aggressively, mind you, when all of a sudden this group of kids comes running up to him asking when he was going to stop."

Crossing one leg over the other, you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Of course, Zoro being Zoro, said he wasn't gonna finish any time soon, but, and get this, the kids say But you're gonna miss your birthday party!"

Nami and Robin gasped, eyes widening slightly.

It was common knowledge that the swordsman wasn't very fond of birthdays—or rather his birthday, specifically.

Whenever asked about it, he often dodged the question, or just ignored it altogether, not bothering with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper's chaotic antics in trying to get him to spill the beans.

Even you were unsuccessful, the man managing to smoothly redirect the conversation with the rough timbre of his voice, knowing it distracted you easily, along with other physical means.

Eventually, you gave up hope, seeing as you didn't even have a clue as to what season the day fell in.

But now... you had a date.

And it was today.

"I know he hates it, but I can't just sit on this," you whined, slumping in the chair. "Before, it wasn't like I could do anything because I didn't know when. But now that I do, I can't in clear conscience do nothing for his birthday..."

"I'm not sure," Robin sighed, quizzically. "There might be a reason why he doesn't celebrate. Maybe something bad happened and caused him to hate the day."

"Or maybe he's just being his typical, difficult self?" Nami scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning to you. "I think it's sweet that you wanna do something nice for him. And I know exactly what you need to do in order to make this the best day of his life!"

Confused, you watched as she leaned over, reaching under her chair and grabbing a book bound with rich, wine-colored leather, the image of a muscular man with extremely long hair and billowing shirt on the cover.

"A book?" you raised a brow. "Zoro's... not really a reader. Especially not something like this."

"No, silly. What's inside the book."

"Paper?"

"Romance."

With an exasperated sigh, she flipped through a couple pages, eyes lighting up when she found the page she was looking for.

"This novel is like a playbook on how to seduce a man," she happily handed it over, allowing you to skim over the text. "Follow that scene to the letter, and you'll have him counting down the minutes until his next birthday. I guarantee it."

"Are you sure?" your nose scrunched slightly at the cheesiness, confused as to why the author kept on mentioning the love interest's rippling pectorals. "This isn't really my style..."

"Trust me!" she grinned, giving you a soft pat on the back. "It's foolproof."

Glancing toward Robin for confirmation, she could only shrug, resting her hands in her lap.

"You know Zoro the best... Do what you think suits both you and him," she advised. "Even if that means trying something new."

Closing the book, your eyes found their way to the cover, your mouth fighting off the urge to stick out its tongue at the sight of the man's chiseled smolder.

He looked more like a girl than you...

"I'll take your word for it."

"(y/n)?" Zoro called, knocking on the door to the women's quarters before carefully pushing it open, slightly frustrated to find that you were, once again, not there.

Well, at least that eliminates the cabin...

Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned around, opting to shift his search toward the deck.

'Where the hell did she run off to?'

It was late, and the swordsman had been searching for the past twenty minutes, having already been through the kitchen, the dining room, the sick bay, the aquarium, the library, and the workrooms, with still no trace of you.

This, of course, was very odd considering you were usually within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

Not only that, but also the fact that he hadn't seen you all day, seeing as Usopp dragged all the men along on a Boys Day Out.

Though, Zoro didn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew a million times over that you were a strong and capable woman, and that if anything were to happen, you could more than adequately hold your own.

But for some odd reason, reminding himself of this fact wasn't subduing the concern spiking in his chest.

'Dammit...'

He had to find you and kill this feeling before he could think any deeper into it.

"(y/n)!" he called, looking around as he walked out on deck. "(y/n)!"

When he was no response, he simply tried again, not planning on stopping until you revealed yourself.

"Will you shut up?!" Nami groaned from her spot from one of the lounge chairs, brows furrowed as she looked up from her maps. "You sound like a lost little puppy."

Zoro rolled his eyes at her theatrics, turning to face her.

"Where's (y/n)?" he asked, curtly.

"She's in the crow's nest," the navigator stated, simply, turning her attention back to the papers strewn over her lap. "Said something about waiting for you... though I'm sure you're too busy ruining the peaceful atmosphere."

Sassily, she flipped one of the parchments over, lazily skimming over its contents.

"Mosshead..."

The man scoffed, expression turning sour at the obvious jab.

"If you'd told me where she was sooner, I wouldn't have shouted!"

"If you'd asked me where she was sooner, I would've told you!"

"Whatever!"

He turned away in a huff, walking over to the ladder and grabbing onto the cool metal.

"Good luck!" Nami called, cheekily, waving as he left. "You're gonna need it!"

"The hell?" he grumbled, starting his trek to the crow's nest, muttering to himself in confusion as he approached the top.

He would never understand her...

Hoisting himself up on the balcony, his brow quirked at the soft hum of music coming from the other side of the wall.

'Music?'

Confused, he listened closer, slowly beginning to make out the sound of a saxophone, which was playing over a smooth jazz background.

You never listened to music when you worked out, much less the sultry nonsense flowing through his ears.

And even though he could hear that, he had yet to hear you grunt out a rep, or rack a weight.

What the hell was going on with everyone today?

Curiosity piqued, he opened the door, eyes widening and heart dropping to his ass at the sight that met him on the other side.

Somehow, the crow's nest had been turned into some sort of makeshift love den, the lights dimmed and the mat area lined with lush pillows and fur blankets, candles illuminating the surrounding area and incense filling the room with a light haze, which smelled of sandalwood and jasmine.

And there, in the middle of it all, sat an angel...

Zoro's breath hitched, eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of your naked form.

You were laying on your side, delicious curves on display in the smallest, tightest leather corset he'd ever seen, your tits practically spilling out the top.

Your hair, freshly washed, cascaded beautifully down your side, framing your face and slightly shading your eyes in a way that gave his hand an itch to tug it.

Not to mention your newly-lotioned skin glowing in the soft candlelight, making you look so smooth and soft and primed for grabbing.

And your dark wings only added to the appeal.

The soft music seemed to be coming from a small transponder snail in the corner, its eyes turned toward the wall in hopes of protecting its innocence from the events to come.

"(y/n)..." he started, both confused and painfully aroused, as he shut the door behind himself, locking it. "What're you doing?"

You faltered, an awkward expression settling on your face.

"Being... sexy?"

Zoro paused a moment, waiting to see if you'd change your answer, before breaking into a small fit of chuckles.

Instantly, your face flushed, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

You knew this was stupid!

"Don't laugh, you ass! I was trying to surprise you!" you whined, abruptly sitting up, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You found out it was my birthday today, didn't you?" he cut to the chase, stalking forward. "And then Nami put you up to this?"

The dots were all connecting.

Usopp keeping him off the ship.

You going missing.

Nami's odd comment.

You were trying to seduce him as a birthday present.

Not that he was complaining...

Your lip jutted out in a slight pout, your eyes avoiding all contact with the man as he moved closer.

"I know you don't like celebrating your birthday, but Nami gave me some book that was supposed to explain exactly what men want... and I figured you still deserved something nice..." you limply explained, turning away from him. "But, in hindsight, it was stupid..."

Sitting down in front of you, his pointer and thumb came up to hold your chin, turning you to face him, where you were met with a soft kiss on your forehead.

"It was sweet," he corrected, thumb smoothing over the skin of your cheek. "Even if you look anything but sweet right now... I can tell you put a lot of effort into this."

You perked up at the last part, turning to him eagerly, eyes glinting with hope.

"Really?" you asked, sounding surprised, your expression downright adorable.

Suddenly, the music, the clothes, and the absolutely tantalizing scent of you began to work their magic on him.

All of his thoughts and reason faded into thin air as he stared at your gorgeous, doe eyes.

"Really," he confirmed, voice low and wanting.

And you could only let out a tiny gasp before he grabbed you by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn't soft or careful.

The kiss was rough; hungry; slow as he drew moans and gasps out of you.

He kissed you like he hadn't done so in ages, and you were starting to believe he hadn't.

His lips were soft, the taste of sake and mint on his tongue.

You let his hand move along your back and ass, roughly squeezing the flesh and making you moan.

Taking advantage over your open mouth, he slid his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping it inside in your mouth.

He grunted hungrily as your tongue began to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath.

The act made your pussy clench impatiently behind the leather, wanting to be touched and treated.

By him.

Zoro then pulled away enough to speak, eyes hooded and dark.

"Where'd you get this little number from?" he murmured hotly against your lips, calloused hands coming up to roughly knead your hips, feeling up the fabric under his fingertips. "Tell me."

One of his hands snuck down to squeeze your ass, and you let him, biting back a whimper in the process.

"W-Went into town," you softly stuttered. "Bought the outfit the girl was wearing in the book."

He started to line kisses all over your jaw, hungrily moving down to your neck; your collarbone; and your naked shoulders.

"Fuck," he growled into your skin. "Too damn good to be true."

His hands roamed up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling.

"Been wantin' your fine ass since I walked in here..."

"You like it—?" The rest of your question doesn't leave your lips as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you toward him, so close that air couldn't even move between you.

Your bodies were pressed flushed against each other, so close that you can feel the painfully hard bulge in his robe.

He was turned on by you.

He was really turned on by you.

That fact made you delirious.

His lips pressed against yours again, kissing them so much that your mouth was beginning to turn raw.

He began to settle himself among the pillows and blankets, never breaking the kiss, before plopping down on the nearest, largest cushion.

Then, he gripped your hips and coaxed you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him.

Instinctively, you ground down into his hardening member, enlisting a groan from deep within his throat.

The sound traveled straight to your core.

You wanted more.

"I want you, Zoro," you sultrily whispered in a sudden burst of confidence, manicured hands gliding over his strong shoulders. "Please... I don't think I can wait."

To show how serious you were, your hands came up to undo the laces on your back, freeing your chest for him to see.

The shock in his steel gray eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he caught a full view of your perfect tits, sitting there just waiting to be touched.

"You little minx..." he chuckled, amused. "Lemme get a feel of you first."

You bit your lip as he leaned forward, laying you down against the brown, furry blanket before prying your legs open.

And there he got a good look of your sobbing wet pussy, the crotch of your leather suit having been cut out.

Eyes widening at the sight, he looked almost pained.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Christ, (y/n)..." he hissed, leaning down to get a better look, gaping at your sex. "You tryin' t'kill me?"

His eyes flicked up to yours, hands still on your thighs.

'Okay?' his eyes asked.

Wordlessly, you nodded, unable to speak.

But that wasn't gonna slide.

Slowly, he began to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit, paying close attention to your reaction.

"Words, pretty," he growled. "Gimme words."

"Yes!" you moaned, toes curling at the feeling of his fingers on your cunt. "Please, Zo'... please touch me."

He gave you a wolfish grin at your pitiful whines, but didn't keep you waiting.

Swooping down, he captured your clit in his mouth, suckling and eating your pussy like a starving man.

He was relentless with his tongue slashed, flicks and long licks up and down your slit.

And you loved it.

Your hips writhed and whined against his mouth, trying to get him closer.

Your pussy pushed past his soft lips, which drew mindless shapes and nonsense words across your needy core.

"You're so wet," he mumbled into your pussy. "Doin' all this in your little suit turns you on that much, pretty?"

You moaned in response, unable to form words, especially when he reached one hand up to play with your breast.

And it only got better when Zoro began to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy.

"You want this?" he asked, voice nothing but a low growl.

You nodded vigorusly, pulling a laugh from the man's lips.

"So needy," he teased as he began to slowly slid his finger inside of you. "S'been a while since we fooled around... Have I not been takin' care of this pussy?"

"Y—!" you gasped, eyes blown wide as you felt your pussy stretch around three, thick fingers.

He aimed up to brush against your clit as he slid his fingers in and out of you, while also leaning down to suck on it, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You could feel yourself quickly beginning to reach your peak.

'No! Not like this!'

"Wait, Zoro!" you whined, writhing against him. "Not yet!"

He immediately ceased his movement and pulled away from you, glaring confusingly.

"'Scuse me?" he asked, not sounding happy with your protest.

You nearly laughed at his reaction.

"It's your birthday," you explained. "I'm 'sposed to be the one making you feel good. So lay down."

Zoro still looked pissed he couldn't make you cum, but listened anyway.

He laid down, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you moved to sit on top of him.

Slowly, you began to kiss and suck your essence off of his mouth, earning low groans from him

Your hands slid down to his broad chest and you gripped his robe.

"Off please?" you asked, peering up at him through your lashes.

You don't have to ask twice.

In a flash, he tugged his arms out his sleeves, pushing his robe and haramaki down to leave him in just his boxers.

You took a moment to admire his beautiful body—so hard and defined with muscle and scars, his lower stomach sinewy with green hair.

He was so, so gorgeous.

Slowly, you glided your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs.

"You're perfect," you whispered before leaning in to peck his scars, running your lips softly over each.

The low moans and mmms Zoro let slide out his mouth were delicious to you.

They only heighten your arousal, along with the music still playing in the background.

You never pictured yourself getting off on a scene like this, but you supposed it took the right person to bring the freak out of you.

Smoothly, you began to kiss down his hardened stomach until you came down to his boxers, which were already hanging low on his hips.

"Fuck, baby," he hummed, watching you work.

His lips were parted and his eyes were hooded, completely entranced by you.

Finally ridding him of his underwear, you began to think you bit off more than you could chew—or suck, rather—when you get a look at his cock for the first time in weeks.

Lately, between your training schedules and antics with the crew, the two of you had barely had a moment to yourselves.

But you never thought you'd forget how well-endowed he was, dick thick and curved slightly to the left, green hair curling around his stomach and pubic area.

"Hasn't been that long, has it?" he chuckled, teasingly, raising a brow. "You havin' second thoughts?"

"No..." you scoffed, cheeks puffed.

Not wanting to disappoint him, you opened your mouth and slowly began to slide his dick against your tongue.

"There we go," he cooed, relaxing into the blanket. "Good girl... take it all in."

You followed his instruction, your jaw and mouth stretching to accommodate his size.

"Mmm-hmm," you hummed around his cock, he vibrations causing him to moan.

You relished the sounds, wanting more, so you began to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out your throat.

You gagged and spat all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy.

And Zoro was eating up every second.

He tossed his head back as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, giving you sight that you took a mental snapshot of for a rainy day.

He was so, so sexy.

And to be able to make him feel good gave you the motivation to fight against your aching jaw and burning throat as you continued to fuck him with your throat.

"Doin' so good, baby," he grunted, rolling his hips into your mouth. "So good for me..."

But to your surprise, he suddenly pulled his cock out your mouth.

"But if I'm gonna cum, it's either gonna be on that pretty ass or those pretty' tits ."

You smirked, sitting up and lacing your hand with his, "How about inside?" you purred.

You'd already gotten the hook-ups from Chopper, though embarrassing, and were stocked full of necessary precautions.

And, of course, that was all you needed to say to get Zoro to smash his lips hungrily against yours.

"This gift jus' keeps gettin' better and better," he cheekily growled against your mouth, flipping you both over and laying you down on the brown fur. "Now choose how I'm doin' you before I do it for you."

Not wasting any time, you laid down on your stomach, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him as you moved a pillow under your hips.

You then looked back at him, only to find him sitting there and stroking himself to the sight of you.

"Like this," you whispered, breathlessly. "Fuck me just like this, Zo'."

Zoro was going fucking feral behind you, and it took everything in his being not to shove his entire length in side you as he began to move closer.

"God, look at you... stainin' the cushions," he sighed as he began to rub your pussy with his cock. "Sittin' nice and pretty just for me..."

Starting out, he went in slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him.

As soon as his tip entered you, your jaw dropped and your eyes blew wide from the stretch.

No one could ever compare to how warm and solid Zoro felt snuggled up in your pussy.

No one.

You were so glad you had the fur of the blanket to grip at he took a hold of your hips and bottomed out inside of you.

"F-Fuck, Zoro!" you whined, burying your face in the pillows.

He began to bump his hips against yours a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit.

"C'mon, now, pretty," he huffed. "Y'said you were my present, yeah? Be a good girl and take me then. Make me proud."

He moved to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

The feeling was just too much.

He was so deep.

Your eyes were seeing stars, ones that far surpassed the ones lining the night sky.

You had no chance to comprehend anything, too busy taking Zoro's fat cock as he fucked you into oblivion in your little leather, corset.

"Feels good, don't it?" he grunted in your ear.

One of his hands moved to smack your ass again, a wanton moan ripping from your throat.

"Bet you've dreamed about this," he growled at you. "Bet you couldn't wait until I got home tonight."

He leaned down toward you, his lips grazing your ear.

"Bet you've been waiting to get split on my dick for so long."

"Gods, Zoro, yes!" you screamed out to the heavens, fisting the blanket for dear life as he fucked you harder.

You'd never felt like this before; so gone.

Your eyes are closed and your mind is blank, only able to thing of the man towering above you, turned dumb by the waves of pleasure washing over you.

The pleasure was just too good, and you could feel it beginning to build in your core.

"M'gonna cum!" you practically sobbed, your head thrown back. "Zoro!"

The man let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, slightly hiking up his leg to get a better angle.

"Me, too," he grunted. "Want you to take it."

He pressed his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick hit that spot that had you seeing the entire universe behind your eyes.

"Fuckin' cum for me, pretty," he demanded. "Let me know how good I'm makin' you feel."

And you do.

Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that coil in your stomach finally snapped.

You unraveled, cumming all over Zoro's dick.

"Oh, my Gods!" you screamed, voice reaching the high heavens.

Your eyes spilled tears of ecstasy as he talked you through it, telling you how good of a girl you were as he stroked your outer thighs.

"Gonna cum, too," he grunted, hips snapping aganist your ass again and again as he chased his high. "You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?"

"Y-Yes!" you choked out, tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to make him feel good, too.

He gripped your hips for dear life and came deep inside you with husky, loud moan that made your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

You took every ounce he had to offer, not once pulling away.

You could feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curled your toes and gasped at the feeling coursing through your body.

Finally, Zoro's hips began to slow until he finally came to a stop, pulling out of you with a soft groan.

But he wasn't done.

Still hard, he slid his head over your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum.

"So you smell like me," he grunted. "No other man'll even try."

You let out a weak, spent moan as your hips finally dropped, Zoro finally releasing his hold on you as he flopped to your side.

Grabbing you, he pulled your body into him, allowing you to snuggle into his side as he grabbed the blanket, wrapping you both in its warmth.

With the adrenaline now wearing off, and you so limp in his grasp, he began to worry, glancing down at you with a hint of concern

"You alright?" he carefully asked, slightly nudging you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You slowly shook your head, still in a daze.

"That was amazing," you sighed, pressing further into his warm side. "Best I ever had..."

A proud smile stretched across Zoro's face, chest puffing slightly at the praise.

"So... did this make your birthday a little better?" you nervously asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Grinning, he gave you two kisses on your cheek, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"It did," he hummed contently. "By a hell of a lot more than a little."

Yes!

Internally, you gave yourself a huge high five, insanely proud that Mission: Mosshead was a success.

And now, you believed you deserved some snuggles in return.

"Cuddle with me?" you cooed, looking up at him through your lashes.

Zoro chuckled, rolling his eyes at you.

"Such a baby," he teased, securely wrapping his muscled arms around you, squeezing. "You're lucky I like you."

"Just like?"

"You know what I mean."

"I think I wanna hear you say it."

"I think I wanna take a nap."

"Zoro..."

"(y/n)..."

"Happy birthday."

"I love you."

[minus-plus-zer0]

Studying in Bakugou's Home Headcanons

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader (This is kind of an unofficial follow-up to my headcanons about studying in his dorms)

Bakugou's home is a mystery to those who know him.

"I wonder what it's like!" Ashido says to you one day. "Has he showed you? You two are always so close!"

Even Kirishima himself hasn't seen it. "If he invites you, invite me over too, okay? In fact, invite me over in secret as a surprise!"

Little did they know, you HAVE been invited. But Bakugou made you swear on your life not to give them any juicy details.

When Bakugou invited you over for the weekend, he knew he had to prepare far in advance.

He finds a proper time where his old hag and clown wouldn't be home, then he cleans the place like he was paid to do it and stocks the pantry full of some snacks and food he knew you both liked. He even has some dinner prepped in the fridge in case it got late and you needed to eat a proper meal. He was certain you'd at least be halfway impressed at all the shit he's doing for you.

The weekend finally arrived and to be a gracious guest, you bring over a few homemade cupcakes. They were overly cutesy and sweet which in Bakugou's eyes was just so you.

He's pretty happy you thought of him with this nice gesture, and you didn't miss the warm smile he gave you after taking a bite out of the cupcake.

You two were about to head inside his house when you hear some woman yelling.

Bakugou immediately stops smiling. "Goddammit..."

He opens the door, keeping you directly behind him to purposefully obscure your vision.

Some woman meets him at the door, the spitting image of Bakugou himself. "Katsuki, what are you doing outside?! Where did you get that food? Wait, is that--"

To Bakugou's dismay, his mother spots you behind him.

She's overjoyed and pushes him aside before he can stop her. He yells at her while she fawns over you and your cupcakes. "How did my son manage to find such a sweet friend like you? Did he bully you into coming here? Are you okay?"

You are embarrassed by the attention and you tell her you're fine, while offering her a cupcake. If your mere existence as Bakugou's one and only nice friend didn't already win her over, then this sure did.

Bakugou groans and drags you inside, despite his mother's protests. He tells her to back off while he leads you into his bedroom.

Once you're inside, he tells you sternly to not step a single foot outside or else you'll be "hounded by the old hag". You agree, if only to be a nice guest.

You laugh at the fact that he looks so similar to his mom and he scoffs at that, saying he's much better than she could ever hope to be.

He tells you to lock the door after he leaves to go get a few more snacks. Once he's gone, you do so and start exploring.

His childhood bedroom is more decorated than his dorm room, but still just as modern in his choice of furniture. There's more All Might merch around and even some photos of his childhood and places he's been to, like hiking trails. You need to remind yourself to ask him about taking you on that trail someday, and you really hope he'll say yes (he will!).

There's also his closet and dresser too... but as nosy as you may or may not be, you won't cross that boundary until he says it's okay. You really want to wear one of his hoodies, they smell just like him. You've already stolen one, and Bakugou will have to rip it off of you if he wants it back (he will!).

Despite Bakugou not having lived in this room for a while, you notice that everything was quite organized. You guess that he must've prepped this place beforehand.

Bakugou finally comes back with the snacks and an earful from his mother before shutting the door behind him and locking it with purpose.

You both sit down at his desk, getting to work.

Bakugou's grilling you on questions either to help teach you subjects or because he doesn't understand stuff himself. But it's so clear he wants your praise and admiration from how hard he works that day. He's kinda hinging himself on your review of him.

As a fellow U.A. student and future Pro Hero, you had the same dreams as him. You couldn't let him outdo you. It's difficult since the homework Aizawa gave you is worse than what you've seen so far.

Sometimes when the work is too hard, you get distracted and start fiddling with the stuff around you. Bakugou doesn't exactly stop you, and it kinda warms your heart he's even letting you see all this stuff in the first place.

He ends up getting distracted by you getting distracted, and you both decide to take a break. Bakugou ends up giving you a short tour around his bedroom. You both took a trip down Bakugou's memory lane, and you learned all about his childhood stories. Time passes far too quickly and you're both rushing back to his desk to finish up your work before dinner.

You barely make it in time, and Bakugou's mother invites you to stay for the meal. Or more accurately, she commands you to stay.

Although Bakugou is sufficiently embarrassed, you agree and Mitsuki gives you her own perspective on all the childhood stories Bakugou shared with you, with her viewpoint being much less flattering.

At first you laugh and play along with her, thinking it's all in good fun. But after enough stories you end up stopping her because you feel sorry for Bakugou.

"It's really not a big deal what he was like in the past," you say. Bakugou peeks at you. "That doesn't really affect how I see him now."

His mother is taken aback by your words, but she smiles warmly. "Maybe that's okay too."

After dinner she orders Bakugou to clean the dishes, but you join him, not wanting to be a bad guest. Bakugou's mother ends up feeling sorry for unintentionally guilting you into this, and gives you both some popsicles afterwards as a reward.

You originally planned on heading home, but Bakugou's parents like you so much that they allow you to use their guest bedroom if you really need it. With your approval, Bakugou gives you some of his old clothes to use as pajamas. Once you get ready for bed, Bakugou knocks on your (temporary) bedroom door. You spent another hour or two hanging out, slowly getting more and more sleepy all the while.

Bakugou's father finds you both after you've fallen asleep, with Bakugou making sure you were okay. Bakugou's stunned by his father catching him in the act of being soft towards his love, and barks at the man to back off.

You don't wake up, and Bakugou walks out of the guest bedroom with his father.

"Guess she's a keeper," Bakugou's father said. "Whether it's as your friend or... you know. I'll make sure she knows you care."

"Don't you fucking dare! Don't say a damn thing!"

Meanwhile, you dreamt of homework and various Bakugou family members, unaware of the yelling outside your room. You couldn't wait to wake up tomorrow in the Bakugou house.

(This was in the works for literally ages but I never got around to it. Now I have! I hate leaving projects unfinished)