#I don’t think I will ever get over them

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[spatialwave]

stress relief.

➸ ask: “Heyy <33 | have a req for a jayvik fic, the reader has noticed they've been quite stressed lately and recommends a form of Relaxing they do (Basically just getting high) and convinces both Jayce and Viktor to take part in it.. Can be fluff or smut??” ➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ tags: mdni! drug use, nsfw, smut, pwp, poly sex, double penetration, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, jayvik established relationship, modern au, viktor wears a prosthetic leg, no use of y/n. ➸ word count: 6.3k ➸ a/n: i only realized when writing this, that i don’t have a ton of jayvik x reader fics like i thought i did! so, here’s to more!! hehe <3

Your fingers moved skillfully over a typewriter, a vintage one, which you often pointed out to anyone who admired it. Did it often cause you more hassle than writing on your computer? Of course, it did, but the nostalgic sounds of clicking and the aesthetic had become a part of your routine, even if it meant struggling with it or groaning when you had to pull out the paper to correct your mistakes with whiteout and place it right where you left off. A tedious task for a small mistake, but one that you struggled with no less.

The sounds of your constant typing reminded Jayce and Viktor of your pursuit of passion, sharing your poetry and fiction works with the world. This was a creative field of work, as opposed to theirs, which left them strained and sore after a day’s work.

It’s not that they ever compared the two in terms of struggles, but you were able to indulge in a stress-free environment more often than they could. A luxury in their eyes, but all you had done was master the art of stress relief.

In the form of smoking so much weed that you were able to melt into the couch after a day of writing that left your brain foggy, or sometimes even smoking before work to resurge enough creative energy to finish a chapter. You were nearly done with your first fiction novel since graduation, and your roommates, Jayce and Viktor, were lagging behind in their own professional efforts.

You met them both in college; you were in your second year, and they were in their fourth year of mechanical engineering and far from being done with their post-secondary education. It was the luck of the draw, or so Jayce called it when you stumbled into them while hurrying between classes and accidentally knocking their first prosthetic arm prototype to the ground where the pieces scattered.

Never in your life had you ever felt so bad, quickly dropping to your knees and helping them gather the pieces of their hard work, apologizing every second while the two men told you it would be okay. Or, at least, Jayce was telling you it would be okay.

You still think fondly back on Viktor's look. His eyes narrowed as he stared at you, watching you and Jayce scramble to grab everything before the rush of students stampeded over them into non-existence.

It took one apology and a smile to win over Jayce’s heart and a few days of getting to know Viktor—and a few drinks—to win his. Though, you had been oblivious to the deeper feelings that blossomed in their heart.

Why would you think otherwise? They were the two in the relationship.

It was by your fourth year and their sixth that the three of you ended up in the same apartment together, the rent cheap enough split three ways that you’d all be fools to let the opportunity go to waste. You learned quickly that living with two men, let alone engineers and inventors, was going to be a lot. It took a few long months to get used to, but by the time you resigned your first year’s lease and you were freshly graduated, you could be blindfolded and walk over their disassembled creations without as much disturbing their work.

You were thankful that they were able to find a laboratory on campus, but it left your apartment quiet most days and well into the night. The sounds of their bickering had become the soundtrack to your life; instead, the sounds of your fingers against the typewriter echoed through the otherwise empty apartment.

The only other sounds were the distant television you hadn’t bothered to turn off and your senior cat's purring, which lay atop your bed. 

You hummed a quiet melody, a song that you couldn’t name that Jayce had been playing on his phone earlier that morning when he was cooking breakfast. Waking up just in time so you could sneak it and ask him to triple the servings for you and Viktor.

The rattling of the apartment door startled you from your daze, not having realized that you’d been staring at the same sentence over and over for the past five minutes. Your eyes flickered to your phone, a finger tapping the screen to check the time and only then realizing you’d been writing for the past four hours without a break. The moon was high in the sky, and the birds would be chirping in only a few more hours.

Slowly, you got up from your desk, arms stretched above your head and groaning as your stationary position caught up to you, leaving you sore and desperate for a smoke before the night got ahead of you.

“Jesus,” you said as you stepped out of your room, pulling down the sleeves of your sweater over your hands absently as you watched Jayce and Viktor kick off their shoes at the front door. They were so exhausted that they looked like they might fall asleep standing if they didn’t hurry. “This is the fourth night in a row; you guys are digging early graves at how little sleep you’re getting.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re doing it,” Viktor mumbled, struggling with removing the shoe from his prosthetic leg, which Jayce quickly dropped to his knees to help him with.”

“Don’t blame you, all that work and still no grant. Yikes.” You returned with a playful flicker in your eyes, smiling as Viktor rolled his eyes at you. Jayce frowned as he rose back to his feet. “Kidding, guys. It’s called a joke; don’t give me those looks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the taller man mumbled, scratching at his stubbled jaw as he walked into the apartment, passing you and groaning as he b-lined for the living room so he could collapse onto the couch. Viktor was close behind, leaning on his cane as he walked, but you weren’t far behind.

“Bad day?” You asked sheepishly, regret forming a knot in your stomach when you noticed how stressed they were, both sitting on the couch.

“Bad week,” Viktor corrected as he leaned forward, rolling his pant leg up to reveal the well-worn prosthetic that needed an upgrade. They’d been so focused on their work that he hadn’t bothered to worry about his own needs, knowing that once this project ended, he’d be able to call the final prototype his own. A leg that would finally implant into his limb so he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of the ill-fitting prosthetics any longer.

You watched as he struggled for a minute, and before Jayce could offer, you were on the floor in front of him, hands already reaching for his leg. Carefully pulling the prosthetic down his thigh until it came clean off, he sighed in relief. This was a common routine that you helped with when Jayce was otherwise busy. Or falling asleep on the couch.

“Thanks,” he murmured, shifting as you put aside the leg carefully.

You returned to the armchair next to the couch, eyes looking between both men who had seen better days. The bags were so heavy beneath their eyes that you feared it would take days for them to finally catch up on their sleep—then an idea sparked.

“You two need a better nightly routine, something to help you decompress from the day instead of passing out in exhaustion the minute you get home,” you said, offering the opportunity for a suggestion.

Jayce glanced at you, raising a curious eyebrow. Viktor was the first to speak, “That doesn’t sound like a healthy habit to you? What a shame. I thought we were the epitome of self-care.”

“Let her speak,” Jayce nudged him with an elbow, eventually leaning against his boyfriend until his face was nearly buried against his neck. “You have anything in mind? I’ll be honest. Sleep sounds like the only good idea.”

“Smoke with me.”

Jayce perked up, peering out from the comfort of Viktor’s warmth as he stared at you with uncertainty, “Like… weed? I don’t know. I haven’t done that since I was a freshman, and let me tell you, it wasn’t a good experience.”

“No one told you to smoke that much, Jayce,” Viktor chided, having been there to witness it firsthand. His amber eyes flickered to you, shining in interest, “I suppose it doesn’t sound like a horrible idea.”

“Because it’s a great idea.” You beamed, sitting up and leaning forward to pet your cat that had made her way into the living room, taking her rounds to each person to receive her nightly pets before nestling away on her cat tree.

Viktor glanced at Jayce, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.”

You watched as the two of them spoke softly to each other, a small smile on your lips at the affection they carried for each other. Even on their worst days, they loved each other with all they had. You hoped for a love like theirs someday.

“Fine,” Jayce huffed, pulling away from Viktor and running a quick hand over his face, “At this point, I’ll do anything to get my mind off of work. I think I’m going crazy,” he snorted a weak laugh, eyes flickering over to as you bounced up from your chair and hurried off to your room to roll.

You returned just as Viktor pulled a sweater over his thin frame, hanging over the sleep shorts he now wore. Jayce had just slipped into some sweats after his quick trip to their bedroom to rid themselves of their day clothes. Two sets of eyes watched as you sat back down, a joint held between your fingers that you showed off like a prized possession.

“Ta-da!” You exclaimed, “As simple as a few puffs, all your worries will melt away. It’s old reliable for me, especially after a long day. Makes for the best sleep of your life.”

Viktor was watching you carefully as you spoke, unsure if it was the exhaustion or lingering feelings that left him admiring you. His hand on Jayce’s thigh dug into the cotton fabric of his sweats, going unnoticed because Jayce was staring at you with the same look. Admiration, awe—affection.

Glancing around, your eyes landed on the balcony where you often spent your evenings with a joint and your cellphone, doom scrolling through social media until you were ready to sleep. You crinkled your nose, looking at the boys, “We need to go outside, or else the apartment will smell like—”

“I don’t care,” Viktor said, gaze flickering to Jayce, “do you care?”

Jayce didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes focused on the joint in your hand, and he was more than ready to say fuck it and let things go how they needed to go.

“No complaining tomorrow when we have to air out the apartment,” you smiled. You’d never been able to smoke in the comfort of your own home before, so this was a treat. Even better than you had been able to wrangle your favourite boys into the mix, too.

Once lit, the joint was passed around the circle three times. Viktor handled it well, having been an off-and-on cigarette smoker throughout the years, usually when his stress levels peaked. Now, it was only when he had enough alcohol in his system. Jayce coughed up a lung each time, and it was the most endearing thing you’d ever witnessed. 

Even if it was rather unpleasant for him at first.

You finished the rest, an experienced smoker, so it was almost like nothing to you. The lingering effects of the high made you sink into the armchair, but not before you grabbed everyone some emergency water and snacks, if you could even stay awake.

Fifteen minutes passed, and everyone’s attention was focused on the TV as the shared high began to climb. Viktor was feeling great. His mind was emptied, and the usual pain in his leg after a day of wearing the prosthetic was gone, leaving his body relaxed and eager to sleep long enough to hit double digits.

You glanced at Jayce, seeing the way he sunk into the couch, legs spread wide apart and a lopsided smile on his lips as he watched the trashy reality show play out. You were almost certain you’d never seen them look so damned relaxed, at least since you lived with them.

Jayce caught your stare, head tilting slowly until his gaze met yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat for a brief moment. It had been a long time since you shared a high with anyone, let alone your best friends, so the emotions and feelings coursing through you were new. You couldn’t ignore his half-lidded eyes, staring even as he made room between him and Viktor.

“You look lonely,” Jayce said, a chuckle erupting from his throat, “Come on. When’s the last time you cuddled with us?”

Viktor sighed heavily through his nose, everything around him feeling slow as he watched you slink over hesitantly. He looked at Jayce, smiling, “You say that so confidently; you know she never has before.”

You plopped down on the couch between them, and immediately, your senses were filled in the best way possible. Jayce’s body to your left warmed your body, and you could smell the faint cologne that Viktor used every morning. The scent lingered on his skin.

“That’s not true,” you hummed, looking to the television as you crossed your legs and relaxed back, “Last year when we went to that gala for the university, I got hammered, and somehow I woke up sandwiched between you two in my bed.”

Jayce laughed, a loud laugh that hadn’t warranted that reaction from your words, but everything was funny to him. He could get used to the feeling.

“Ah, right,” Viktor looked at you, smirking, “That was Jayce’s doing, just so you know. He was worried you would get sick, so he wanted to stay with you and begged me to stay.”

“I didn’t beg,” he said through his laughter, “You gave in very easily and enjoyed it. Don’t lie.”

“I did not,” Viktor argued, pale cheeks turning a soft pink. You looked between the two of them as they bickered, a big smile on your face. However, the implications of their words settled into your stomach, and you forced yourself to look back to the TV before you could let your mind wander where it didn’t need to.

There was no need to let yourself build up a desire, knowing very well that it wouldn’t come true.

“Yeah, you did,” Jayce turned to face you both better, easily throwing his right leg over both of your laps, and you were quick to rest a hand over the clothed limb. The touch sent a shiver up his spine and a heat in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t expected, and he hoped you hadn’t noticed because Viktor certainly had.

“Hardly,” Viktor hummed, unable to feel an ounce of annoyance when his heart began pounding in his chest when he saw how Jayce reacted to your touch. How those hazel eyes were glued to your face, and all of the discussions they’ve shared in the past about you came to the surface.

“Stop arguing,” you whined, pointing to the television, “You are missing the best part of the show. They’re about to answer the ultimatums, and let me tell you that whatever you had in mind is never what happens.”

You were received by silence, and you quickly looked between the two men again, blinking a few times in quick succession as you saw the way they both stared at you. You felt a chill crawl up your spine and absently dug your fingers into the fabric covering Jayce’s leg. Sinking back into the couch, you attempted to force yourself to relax and not overthink it, but it was hard when you could see them sharing looks.

“You know, when you get high, you usually just laugh at crappy television and snack on whatever you have until you fall asleep,” you mumbled, your cheeks burning.

“Mmh,” Viktor hummed, “Where are our manners?” He teased, and his voice sent goosebumps along your skin. He nestled himself against you as he spoke, his cheek resting on your shoulder as he focused on the television. Meanwhile, Jayce leaned back against the nook between the arm and the back of the sofa, his arm extending behind you as his fingers ‘absently’ played with the ends of your hair.

You were on high alert, which was surprising for how much you smoked, but you could sense something was happening. You were just trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t what you were imagining in your head, but the way Jayce brushed his fingers through your hair and how Viktor’s left hand rested over your bare thigh left you wondering if you were dreaming again.

Viktor’s fingers brushed between your thighs, a daring touch that reminded you that this was no dream, and in this reality, the two men were certainly coming onto you.

A laugh bubbled up from you, one that you weren’t able to hold down. Your hands flew to your face, which had begun to burn a bright red, and you avoided their curious looks.

“You guys are being horribly obvious. I hope you know that.” You mumbled behind your hands, refusing to move them.

Viktor chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, “Or maybe it takes you being high to finally notice.”

You turned your head to look at Viktor between parted fingers, “What do you mean by that?”

Jayce spoke up from the other side of you, smiling rather shyly as you looked over at him, “You’re… pretty clueless, you know that? It’s cute.”

You swore you could hear your heart slamming against your ribs, the feeling overwhelming as you stared up at Jayce and felt your stomach twist in uncomfortable knots. Your eyes flickered back to Viktor, noting the confident smile on his lips as he reached out and tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“How does it make you feel?” Viktor asked quietly, his reddened eyes scanning your face, “Knowing how we feel about you.”

“Well,” you murmured, licking your lips as you inhaled a shaky breath, “I suppose I don’t exactly know how you feel about me… it’s difficult to answer without knowing.”

Jayce shifted beside you, his leg moving from your laps so he could instead guide you until you were rested back against his chest, his body still turned completely towards you and Viktor. You nestled back into him, sighing at how his body felt so nice and warm like it was enveloping you.

Meanwhile, Viktor shifted and leaned towards you, smiling as he nuzzled himself into you and pulled his leg onto the couch that perfectly fit you three. He buried his face against your clothed chest, peering up just enough to meet your gaze.

“Would you like us to show you?” he asked his eager hand dipping beneath your sweater, thin fingers brushing against the skin of your stomach. You didn’t care if the weed was allowing them to better act on their instincts. All you knew was that the four hands beginning to grasp at your body was enough to make you say—

“God, yes,” you breathed, the sound catching in your throat.

Jayce was quick to act on your consent. From behind his lips attached to the side of your neck, he left gentle kisses that earned you a shiver. Meanwhile, Viktor leaned himself between your spread legs. His eyes were half-lidded and glossy as he stared at you with a knowing smile.

You didn’t have time to question him for staring because he swallowed the words on the tip of your tongue as he pressed your lips together in a bruising kiss. Your lips parted with a gasp, and he took advantage of the opening, his tongue delving into your mouth and tasting the red licorice flavour from the sweets you had indulged. He moaned into your mouth, hands on your hips underneath your sweater and grasping over your flesh, rougher touches compared to the fluttering kisses from the man behind you.

The stubble on Jayce’s jaw tickled your skin as he nibbled on the shell of your ear, his heavy breaths cascading your neck with warmth.

“How excited are you?” He whispered into your ear, a squeak muffling into Viktor’s eager mouth as a hand slipped between your bodies and pushed into your shorts. Thick fingers pushed past the fabric of your panties, easily spreading through your wet folds. “Fuck,” Jayce huffed, swallowing thickly as he circled your needy clit with short circles.

“I told you she’d like it,” Viktor mumbled against you, pulling back as a string of saliva connected your lips. He grinned, lifting a hand and brushing his thumb against your swollen bottom lip, “You like it, don’t you?”

Your body was on fire, Jayce’s fingers toying with your cunt, earning a few whimpers that you tried to muffle, but to no avail. Half-lidded eyes stared at Viktor as you nodded, watching as he leaned back and looked down between your legs underneath the fabric. He could see his boyfriend’s fingers working through your folds, the slick sound loud enough to reach his ears.

Nimble fingers grabbed at your shorts and underwear, yanking them down your thighs until they slipped past your ankles and were discarded to the floor.

Viktor’s eyes sparkled as he watched, licking his lips as Jayce used two fingers to spread you open.

“She’s dripping,” Jayce murmured, the sound of his voice easing your nerves as you relaxed against him, fingers grabbing at his thighs. You closed your eyes, unable to look at Viktor in your flustered state.

“I can see that,” Viktor purred, his fingers toying at your entrance that Jayce had opened for him. You whined as he pushed in a finger, a second one joining much too easily, “So good. Taking my fingers so easily. I bet you’ve dreamt of this, haven’t you?”

Your back arched at his touch, Jayce’s index finger returning to your clit, a ministration that made your hips shake in tandem with Viktor’s fingers thrusting in and out of you. Your mind was hazy, and you couldn’t think straight, eyes fluttering as you fucked yourself along his two fingers that pumped so deep you were beginning to babble out their names incoherently. 

Viktor curved his fingers, pushing on the fleshy pad of muscle inside your pussy that coaxed out a strangled cry from your lips. He didn’t relent, the two men wanting to hear more from you as they worked together. They couldn’t concentrate on anything, fixated on the way your cunt tightened around Viktor’s fingers and how your nails dug into Jayce’s thighs as your climax neared.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, a gasp escaping between parted lips. You attempted to push your thighs together, but Jayce was quick and held your thighs apart.

“Be a good girl,” he breathed into your ear.

Viktor’s free hand moved so he could rub quick circles over your swollen clit, fingers still pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Your eyes cracked open, hips twitching violently as heat spread down your thighs and up your abdomen. You locked a gaze with Viktor, and your heart lept into your throat at the way he stared at you—animalistic. Hungry.

“Come for me,” he whispered, fingers curling as he did his best to bring you to your release.

It worked well, especially with Jayce’s lips pressing heady open-mouthed kisses to your neck, hands grabbing at your thighs and keeping you nicely spread.

“Oh my god,” you cried, thighs tensing and toes curling as your orgasm hit you hard. You clenched impossibly tight around Viktor’s fingers, hips stuttering as heavy breaths and moans fell from your lips. Viktor kept fucking you with his fingers, a slower pace to meet with your release until you were spent.

Your hands moved to your face, covering your cheeks that were red from embarrassment. You were still twitching, sensitive from their synchronized touches, and you didn’t dare look at either of them.

Jayce smiled, pressing a chaste kiss at your temple, “That was so hot.”

Viktor chuckled, fingers leaving your cunt, and you whined at the emptiness. He noted the reaction, his gut hot and cock twitching under his shorts.

“Show us your pretty face,” he chided you, voice soft as he grabbed at your wrists. He tugged your hands away from your face, smiling at the way you pouted at him, “Since when are you shy?”

“Since my roommates in a relationship decided they’d rather fuck me instead of sleeping,” you mumbled, shifting and feeling a familiar hardness on your lower back. Jayce grunted, his tanned cheeks red as he twitched, the slight friction on his erection making him eager to make your statement come true.

“We haven’t fucked you yet, though,” Viktor hummed, smirking as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, wet with your juices. He licked them clean and sighed, “Do you want us to?”

You answered quickly, a prominent yes. Within minutes, the three of you had made it to their bedroom, rather clumsy in your efforts. Your back fell against the bedsheets that had been tucked into the mattress so neatly, and your clothes were ripped from your body almost instantaneously.

Viktor was leaning back against the pillows, centred almost perfectly in the middle of the bed, and you were on your knees in front of him. Eyes heavy as you tugged down his shorts and briefs while he tossed his sweaters aside. Jayce settled behind you, also on his knees, and he towered over your smaller frame.

Golden eyes watched you both in awe as you felt Jayce’s bare muscled chest pressed against your back and his cock pushing between your thighs—grazing against your still-wet cunt. You could feel how big he was, and as you stared down at Viktor, you noted his, too.

You didn’t want to think about it, wondering how you would take them. You weren’t much of a go-getter in terms of sex, usually relying on your toys late at night when you needed some relief.

“You’re nervous,” Jayce murmured, calloused hands running up and down your sides. They settled over your breasts, feeling the heaviness of them in his hands as he pinched at your nipples until you gasped. 

“A little,” you answered quietly, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. You leaned to the side enough that you could tilt your head and meet Jayce’s eyes from behind you. His eyes carried a gentle look, different than the fiery gaze from Viktor.

Jayce smiled, ducking his head closer until his lips brushed against yours, “Don’t be. There’s no reason.”

Your eyes fell closed as you eagerly accepted his kiss, whimpering into his mouth as he tasted you carefully. His tongue pushed past your lips, and you opened yours, tongues dancing together effortlessly. He moaned into you, arms wrapping over your waist as you shared a passionate kiss with a bit too much tongue, but gods, you didn’t care.

Especially when you knew Viktor was staring, leaning back and smirking. Cock twitching and pre-cum beading along the tip as he began to stroke himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jayce whispered, pulling from your lips and staring into your eyes as your stomach twisted. You hadn’t heard that in a while. “I want to fuck that pretty face of yours.”

And they both did.

Both of them leaned back against the headboard, eyes fluttering as you sucked them both off. Working your mouth along their cocks one at a time, your hand stroking the one your throat neglected.

“Ah,” Viktor whimpered, a hand tight in your hair as he guided you along his cock, amber eyes heavy as you looked up at him, “Fuck, you’re good at this.”

The praises kept you going; it was like a rush of confidence. You took them both deeper than you thought was possible, their cocks fucking your throat until you had to pull back, gasping for air. You could feel how close they both were, and when Jayce roughly tugged your hair back with a growl deep from his chest, you knew you were good enough to be fucked by them. 

Finally.

What you hadn’t expected was how.

The three of you were on the bed, with you sandwiched between them and your back pressed against Jayce’s chest. You looked up at Viktor, your leg hooked around his hips and breathing heavily, unsure where this was going but knowing that you’d do anything. You’d take anything; you needed them.

As Jayce kissed over your bare shoulders, Viktor moved closer, hand at the base of his cock so he could direct it to your entrance. You whined when the tip pushed inside, teasing. 

“Viktor,” you breathed, your hands reaching out to grab at his waist so you could tug him closer, “fuck me. I need you, please.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, “Mmh, you’ve been so good. How could I say no to that pretty face of yours?” He murmured, closing the distance between your lips so he could pull you into a searing kiss. 

He pushed inside you with one quick thrust, reaching the hilt as you choked on your breath, the sound captured by his lips. “Ah, fuck,” you croaked, your cunt stretching from his length. You whimpered into his mouth, licking inside until your tongues slid together, and he gave you time to adjust to his size.

Jayce reached around you, the familiar feeling of his finger on your clit easing you. The pain of being stretched, a remnant of the past, as you pulled from Viktor’s lips, “Keep going.”

He obeyed quickly, panting as he shifted so he could fuck you, pulling out half-way and pushing back in. Careful movements until he knew you could take it, quickening to a hard pace that had you moaning out his name.

You reached back behind you, looking over your shoulder at Jayce as your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him. You thumbed at the tip, the pre-cum coating his cock as you pumped him in repetition with Viktor’s thrusts. He huffed at the feeling, his forehead pressed against your shoulder blade as the heat in his abdomen tightened.

“Your pussy feels so good,” Viktor’s voice pulled you down from the clouds, a quiet mewl bubbling up from your throat at the praise, “You’re being so good. Taking me so good… can you take us both?”

Both you and Jayce stilled, tensing at the prospect. Jayce’s cock twitched in your hand, and you stared at Viktor wide-eyed, heart slamming against your chest. 

“Both?” You whispered, thankful when Viktor slowed his movements, “I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You don’t have to,” Jayce murmured into your ear, his breath heavy from your hand that had nearly stroked him to completion, “It’s okay if it’s a no.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, leaning forward and ducking to press his lips against your jaw, gentle kisses. You closed your eyes, lips parting as quiet sounds of pleasure came from you. The idea of it made your cunt clench around Viktor’s cock, both of them inside you at once.

Stretched impossibly thin. 

“Yes,” you whispered, eyes fluttering open to look into Viktor’s gold orbs, “I want you both. Fuck, I think I need it.”

Jayce grinned against your ear, your hand eagerly guiding his cock to your already-filled entrance. “Easy now, love.” He said, the pet name making your heart flutter, “One step at a time. I don’t want to hurt you.

Viktor began to slowly push himself in and out of you, slow movements so pleasure filled your senses before you’d be stretched beyond your comfort levels. You squirmed when you felt Jayce’s cock prod at your entrance.

“Let me fuck her,” Jayce mumbled, talking to Viktor, who reluctantly pulled himself out. Your cunt was empty for all of a second before another cock pushed inside you. Stretching you more than Viktor had, but not as long. Gods, you had no idea how you’d make this work.

You leaned forward against Viktor, whimpering as Jayce’s hand grabbed at your hip, digging into your flesh as he fucked you enough to wet his cock.

“You ready? Viktor asked you, his hand caressing your cheek so you were forced to look into his eyes. You nodded, your stomach twisting.

Your eyes closed, and you did your best to relax your body. Your body leaned back against Jayce now as Viktor had to shift his body and position himself until his cock was pushing at your entrance, unsure if this would work.

Then you cried out loudly, choking on a strangled gasp when the head of his cock pushed inside, and your cunt stretched wide to fit him. Jayce was quick to act on your pain, a finger on your clit and lips at your ear, kissing and whispering soft praises in your ear. Anything to calm you, and it worked.

“Shit,” Viktor hissed under his breath, his gaze focused down between your legs, watching as his cock penetrated you and joined Jayce’s inside your tight cunt. You were so wet that it was easy to slide right in, but he was careful and slow, eyes glancing at your face every so often to gauge your reactions.

You clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and only realized you had been holding your breath until you felt him fit inside you fully. Your eyes fluttered open, looking at Viktor with eyes full of unshed tears.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, nearly begging. The fullness between your legs was more than you could imagine, but the pleasure was beginning to outweigh the discomfort. 

Viktor dove forward, his lips crashing to yours as Jayce moved first. He pulled his hips back, his cock moving out of you slowly and rubbing against Viktor’s, a whine from your lips swallowed down by Viktor’s tongue. As Jayce pushed back in, Viktor pulled out—an electric rhythm that made your head spin.

Both men groaned, breathing heavily as they fucked you slowly. Jayce’s forehead, sticky with sweat, was pressed against the nape of your neck as he focused on his movements. His cock twitched inside you with each forward press of his hips, the sensation of your tight cunt swallowing him while rubbing along Viktor’s had his release close to the edge already. 

None of you could speak, the sounds of their slick cocks fucking you in languid movements loud in your ears. Heavy breaths, deep grumbles in their chests, and names rolling from your tongue through pleasured mewls. 

Your hips met their rhythms, and not once was your pussy empty. Stretched so deliciously far that you felt your juices dripping down your thighs and wetting the bedsheets beneath your hips.

“I don’t think I’m going to last much longer,” Jayce broke through the silence you shared, his voice shaky as his teeth dragged along your shoulder and focused hard on keeping his release at bay. His finger over your clit had only helped in pushing you further toward your orgasm, fleshy walls clenching tight around the two cocks that took their turns filling you.

“Me neither,” Viktor pulled from your lips, a moan catching in his throat as he stuttered his hips forward, “God—fuck.”

He was the first to fall over the edge, gasping as he buried his face forward against your neck, kissing you as he spilled inside. Jayce was right behind, unable to keep himself from pushing into you, so both cocks stretched you, hot cum sputtering inside you and leaking out as you milked both men dry.

Only a few more tight circles on your clit sent you over, hips twitching and causing both men to groan at the overwhelming feeling of you fucking yourself on their cocks as you rode out your climax. Electricity shooting through your body, loud cries of pleasure falling from your tongue until you were limp and whimpering, shifting so they could both pull out from you.

Once it emptied, you could finally breathe, your body able to relax from the limits you had pushed yourself to. 

“You did so well,” Viktor breathed against your neck, hardly able to speak. His mind was swirling, the weed and exhaustion only dizzying him further as he groaned, “Fuck, I’ve never felt better.”

Jayce hummed in acknowledgement, letting out a heavy sigh as he rolled onto his back and ran a hand through his hair. He wore a lopsided grin as he tugged you towards him so you were tucked forward against his side and Viktor followed, clinging to you from behind and burying his face in your hair.

“Maybe we’ll do that again sometime,” he eventually spoke, slurring slightly from the tiredness that had begun to consume him. 

“Might have to give me a few business days to recover,” you murmured, your face nuzzled against his chest as the three of you lay atop the sheets. Much too tired to even bother pulling the sheets above your bodies.

Viktor chuckled, inhaling your scent deeply as his fingers traced patterns along your stomach absently, “Maybe I will buy you a strap. You can join me in fucking Jayce one of these days.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jayce argued, half-asleep.

“You get used to it.” You giggled, eyes closed as sleep began to win you over.

You sighed quietly, the sounds of both men snoring softly as they fell into deep slumbers after a week of overworking themselves. Your heart was so full of love as they held you close—it was addicting. Jayce and Viktor were addicting. Whatever this was blossoming into was a dangerous game, but you knew you could trust them with your heart.

Your favourite boys.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

vi sucking on your tits while you grind against her abs🤤

nsfw. a bit ooc maybe but i think vi would be a bit needy and whiney while topping if she is horny enough.

“That feel good, baby?”

It absolutely does. It’s probably the most filthy thing you’ve ever done, grinding your wet, needy cunt on your girlfriend’s abdomen, feeling each firm ridge and how her stomach rises and caves with each breath. Vi looks so blissed out, eyes fluttering open and shut as she tried to keep focus and help you grind against her.

You don’t answer her, far too gone, but she is no longer focused on dirty talk. Not when your pretty tits are moving with every movement, pressed together by your elbows as your hands grasp her shoulders for support. She doesn’t even try to hold back from maneuvering you a little so that her greedy mouth can reach them.

She doesn’t even try to tease you, much too impatient for that. Vi wraps her lips around one of your nipples, her muffled moans creating vibrations through your chest.

“Don’t stop please, that feels-“ You whine when she uses teeth on the soft bud and soothes it with her warm tongue, always quick to pacify your little whines and jolts when she gets too rough, “feels so good..”

Is she even listening anymore? Vi’s head is spinning as you grind further against her, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. Your scent is making her dizzy. You smell so sweet and yet the arousal is thick, driving her crazy. One of her hands leaves your hips to palm your tit that she just lavished attention to so that she can suck on the other.

Just one enthusiastic flick of her tongue over your nipple sends you over. Your legs tremble, threatening to give out, but Vi is strong and helps you ride out the high as she sucks hickeys all over your chest now. When you come down, she doesn’t let up, her mouth latching onto a nipple once more.

“V-Vi?” No response except for a muffled moan. “Vi, I came already, you can stop-“

She lets go of your tit in her mouth with a soft, wet pop. “Can’t I just do this for a little longer? You don’t have to cum again if you don’t want to, baby..”

She has heart in her eyes, trying to plead with you while struggling to gaze back down to your tits. It makes you weak to imagine the next hour of just having Vi on top of you, blissed out with one of your nipples in between her lips. It’s not a scenario you’re unfamiliar with, either.

“Yeah, but I think I’m too tired for another round.”

She smiles triumphantly and flips you onto your back, wrapping her arms around your torso and switching from sensual, rough attention on your chest to soft pecks and use of her soothing tongue. It’s something many people would find sexual even on its own, but you view it almost as a source of aftercare (which she will provide much more of if needed).

[sunflowerwinds]

sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3

— ONE

Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.

She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.

It was a bad habit.

It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.

Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.

“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”

Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.

“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”

You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.

“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”

The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.

You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.

“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.

You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.

“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.

“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”

“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.

The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.

“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.

You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.

Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.

“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.

She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.

“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”

A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.

She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.

“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.

The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.

To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.

“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.

You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.

“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.

“Card.”

You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.

“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.

The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.

“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.

“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Were you being weird?

“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.

“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.

You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.

“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.

“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.

You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.

“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.

You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.

Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.

What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.

You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.

You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.

Was she jumped or something?

“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”

Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.

“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”

Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.

“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.

“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.

She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.

“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.

Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.

“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”

“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.

“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.

“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”

Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.

“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.

Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.

“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”

You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.

“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”

You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.

Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.

“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”

That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.

“Really? Where at?” You hum.

“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.

You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”

An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.

“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.

“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.

Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”

You awe out loud at the thought.

“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.

Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.

Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.

“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.

“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.

Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”

“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.

Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.

Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.

“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”

Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.

“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”

You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.

“I will. See you, cupcake.”

“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.

The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.

Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.

“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.

“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.

Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.

“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”

You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.

“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”

Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.

“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”

TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25

[miedei]

terrible profilers

(aka the team meets early seasons!spence's not-so-secret girlfriend)

a/n: this came to me in my dream last night and i cannot get over it, pls send asks/requests and tell me what you thought!

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, the team is nosy, my niche personal headcanons of how i think spencer would text, probably more tech inaccuracies

wc: 3.5k

part one

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

mlist

The moment Spencer walks into the bullpen, he knows something’s up. Garcia never replied to the text he’d sent on Friday night, and he’d hoped she was just busy on their first weekend off in a while, but it’s clear there’s more. Clutching the strap of his satchel, he walks to his desk, observing the strange tension blanketing the room. For one, Hotch and Gideon are in the bullpen, standing in the corner speaking in hushed tones. Weird. They usually go to one of their offices to talk, and either way, they usually are stuck in their offices until lunchtime when they don’t have cases. Another thing. JJ and Penelope are standing around Elle’s desk, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but they’ve swivelled around to stare at Spencer like he’s an alien (which they do on occasion, but Spencer is pretty sure he hasn’t been strange yet. He just walked in!). Derek is sitting on Elle’s desk, leaning over to huddle with the three girls, but he’s frozen with his mouth open, like he just shut up for some reason.

“Uh… Good morning.” Spencer furrows his brows, but tries to shrug it off, more interested in the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchenette. Setting down his bag, he quickly busies himself with pouring his signature overly-sweet (according to you) coffee.

It’s like his movements snap a thread that has been holding his colleagues together, and they suddenly start bustling around the bullpen again. Derek sidles up beside him as he’s stirring in sugar, and Spencer braces himself for some Morgan-esque prod. But what he says has Spencer confused.

“Kid. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Ok, something is going on. Spencer has worked with Derek since he was 22, and they’ve fallen into a very comfortable dynamic ever since. But neither of them have ever felt the need to reassure the other of their closeness.

“What’s up, Morgan? No jabs today?”

Derek stiffens, like he’s been caught in a lie, and scrambles to reply.

“Well… We- Um, Garcia worried about you on Friday. What was up with you leaving so suddenly?”

Spencer has to bite back a smile, memories of you, coming to ‘O Keefe’s just to see him, flooding into his mind. But he answers as smoothly as possible, still turned away from Derek as he elaborates.

“Oh, I felt a bit sick. I think it’s going back and forth from the more arid parts of the country that did it. Did you know, travelling between warmer and colder climates makes you more susceptible to contracting viruses because it strains your immune and musculoskeletal systems, causing the feedback loop of homeostasis to-” Derek puts a hand on his arm, and Spencer quiets.

“Okay, okay, pretty boy, I get it.”

With that, he walks off, and Spencer is left at the kitchenette, stirring his coffee, confused. It’s not like it was a lie, he was feeling a bit nauseous in the bar, so you insisted that you go home. He recovered that same night over a cup of tea, Metropolis on the television, and you cuddled up on the couch next to him.

When he walks back to his desk, mug in hand, he calls out to JJ, still standing by Elle’s desk.

“JJ, no cases today? …JJ?” The blonde is looking at him, but his words seem to fly right over her head, until Elle pokes her shoulder.

“Oh! No, the cases I’m being called about are still pending, we’re probably not leaving on anything until tomorrow.” Spencer smiles softly, glad to have at least one more night sleeping at home this week. Because of his reverie, he doesn’t notice the way JJ, Penelope and Elle are staring at him, befuddled expressions on their faces.

The day continues to be a little weird, much to Spencer’s chagrin. Around 1pm, Gideon emerges from his office again. This, already, is out of the blue. Gideon only leaves his office an average of 3.78 times a day, mainly to go to Hotch’s office, or to go home. This time, however, Gideon marches to Spencer’s desk.

Gideon comes to a stop next to Spencer’s desk chair, and it’s all he can do to muster a blank face and look into his mentor’s eyes.

“Hey, Gideon. What’s… What’s going on?”

The older man sighs wearily, looking down his nose at Spencer, looking uncannily like Spencer’s highschool Calculus teacher when she got irritated at him for being a ‘13 year old know-it-all’.

“Reid. You weren’t sick on Friday, were you?” What is happening? Spencer doesn’t lie, he’s never told Gideon something untrue, so this is incredibly out of the blue.

“Huh? No, what’s wrong? I felt nauseous, which could’ve been a symptom for an inner ear problem, inflammatory bowel disease, gastroenteritis…” Spencer continues to rattle off a list of things he could have had, not noticing the uncharacteristically soft, paternal gaze that Gideon has trained on him.

“...and even a brain tumour, but it was probably because I drank more than I usually do. Why do you think that’s not true?” Spencer finishes his little speech, looking up at Gideon with a confused expression. There’s nothing else the older man can do but sigh, patting his shoulder softly.

“Okay, Reid. Glad you’re feeling better now.” With that, the experienced profiler walks away, not bothering to reply to Spencer’s continued questioning:

“Gideon! What’s wrong? Why are you-” Gideon’s office door slams shut.

Unfortunately, Spencer cannot ignore the rest of the signs, spending the rest of the day in a state of coiled anxiety. Something is going on, but he can’t get anyone to tell him.

Derek and Elle are constantly glancing over at him, unreadable expressions on their faces. Penelope keeps finding excuses to go to Spencer’s desk, and even if Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he’d be able to see the words bubbling up in her throat, but she never says anything.

JJ doesn’t come talk to him at all, which is strange. Instead, she shoots him knowing looks whenever she’s in the bullpen, sending Spencer into a spiral every time she doesn’t say anything about why they’re all acting weird.

He’s even caught Hotch and Gideon peeking through the blinds over their office windows to look at Spencer, with the analytical looks they get when they’re observing a crime scene on their faces. It’s driving Spencer crazy, and he has to tell someone.

You’re leaving your desk at the university when your phone buzzes.

SPENCE <3: Hi. I looked normal when I left the house, right?

Your brow furrows at the text. Normally Spencer isn’t a fan of texting while he’s at work, and you’d told him multiple times how handsome he looked when he left the apartment this morning. He’s wearing his striped white button down and the purple tie you bought him for his birthday last year, he looks pretty. And you made sure to tell him so.

YOU: hi <3

YOU: no spence you look pretty i told you this morning didnt i?

SPENCE <3: You did, thank you. Everyone’s acting weird at work, and I can’t think of what it could be.

YOU: maybe its something with a case?

SPENCE <3: They would tell me if it was that, right?

YOU: ur right

YOU: if you cant think of it with that big beautiful brain its probably something to do with them

There’s a solid minute of silence before he texts you back, and you grin to yourself as you walk through the halls. You can see the flush growing over his face in your mind’s eye, the way he does every time you pay him a cheesy compliment.

SPENCE <3: I guess so. They won’t tell me anything about it, which is strange.

You frown a little, imagining his frustration at being out of the loop. Spencer has expressed his love for his coworkers to you many times, but he’s also told you about his struggles feeling like the ‘baby’ of the office, and the way it makes him feel isolated at times. Racking your brain to think of a way to cheer him up, you check the time on your watch (the twin of which is settled on Spencer’s wrist).

YOU: its nearly 6

YOU: if i leave my building now i can make it to your office in 30mins

YOU: i can pick you up and we could get thai for dinner

YOU: ?

The reply is instantaneous, and you smile, looking forward to seeing him earlier than you’d expected today.

SPENCE <3: That sounds great. I’m finishing up here but text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.

SPENCE <3: I need to go, I’ve been texting you from the bathroom.

SPENCE <3: See you soon :-)

The last half hour of Spencer’s workday flies by, unlike the way the clock had crawled previously. He finishes up the consults he was working on for the day, and begins packing up the moment the clock hits 18:27.

Derek and Elle are still sneaking glances at him, but Spencer couldn’t care less at this point. As he closes the flap of his satchel, his phone buzzes in his breast pocket. He can’t help but whip out his phone immediately, missing the bewildered looks that pass between his fellow profilers as he smiles down at the screen.

Y/N L/N: in the lobby now! i forgot how fancy it is here i feel underdressed

He doesn’t bother replying, instead opting to leave the bullpen through the glass doors, nodding at Derek and Elle, and pressing the elevator button immediately. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts as he stares at the closed doors, that he realises far too late what’s happening behind him.

He can hear the sounds of shuffling feet, a squeak of surprise (Penelope), hissed insult (Elle to Derek), and a firm clearing of a throat. Hotch. After sighing petulantly, Spencer turns on his heels to find the entire BAU team standing there, faces just as confusing as they’ve been all day.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong, but none of you gave me an answer the last 23 times I asked, so.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hotch, of all people, says, “Reid, we need to… ask you something. About last Friday.” That’s strange. Spencer cocks his head in confusion.

“What about it? I already told Morgan and Gideon, I was feeling sick, but it turns out it was just that I’d just drank more than I was used to.”

Penelope looks like she’s about to burst, and finally, she blurts it out, voice slightly shrill. “Reid! Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Derek butts in, a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Kid, that girl. The girl you were… close to, on Friday. At the bar?” Oh. That’s what they’re talking about?

“That was Y/N. My girlfriend. Are you mad I didn’t introduce you guys? I thought you were all busy.”

Spencer sees six sets of jaws drop. There’s more silence, before JJ croaks out, “Girlfriend?”

It’s a bit of a sight, to be honest. Penelope has clutched on to Derek, and Derek on to Elle. JJ is gobsmacked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even Hotch and Gideon look the most shocked Spencer has ever seen them. But why?

“Uh, yeah. She came to see me because we’d had plans before we decided to go out. Then when she found out I felt sick we went home.”

Gideon looks a little green, and when no one makes a sound, Hotch speaks, his normally stoic voice coming out a little shaky. “Reid, we didn't- We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

What? Now they’re being even weirder. Spencer can hear the elevator doors open behind him, but he doesn’t bother. This is something he has to get to the bottom of.

“How did you not know? I’m sure I’ve mentioned having plans with her multiple times. Elle, I told you about the time I went to the movies in New York with her, when we were on that case.” Elle looks more shocked, if that’s possible, but doesn’t say a word.

“Garcia, I asked you to help me find florists that have Gibraltar campions in Vegas that one time.” Penelope jolts, muttering under her breath about ‘idiot geniuses and their mothers’.

“Gideon, I asked you for advice on how to ask her out!” Gideon stiffens, remembering the time Spencer had asked him about his ex-wife. Was that Spencer asking for advice?

“I ran into you, JJ and Morgan, when I was with her, don’t you remember? She was in the aisle over” Derek distinctly remembers a time at the bookstore, they’d seen Spencer, but not noticed anyone with him. JJ shamefully recalls being too busy making fun of Spencer’s heart-studded tie to look around.

“Hotch, I told you about her! When I added her to my emergency contacts?” At this, Hotch pales. A year ago, Spencer had come to him with a request to change his 1st emergency contact from his mother to a Y/N L/N. How he never registered that this was a girlfriend, Hotch would never know, but he stares fixedly at his shoes as he contemplates quitting his job as a profiler.

Spencer looks at them, mystified. How did they not know? It’s not like he was ever hiding you! Of course, Spencer wanted to keep you to himself, so he didn’t talk about you that much, but they were profilers. He assumed they’d known, and just didn't want to embarrass him.

His phone buzzes twice, and he pulls it out to see another text from you.

Y/N L/N: spence are you coming

Y/N L/N: a guy in a suit is eyeing me weird he knows i dont belong come save me

A happy sigh leaves him, before he remembers the people standing in front of him, still gobsmacked. He scrubs a hand down his face wearily, and mutters slowly, as if he’s not sure if he wants to do this.

“She’s downstairs right now, we were going to take the metro home together. Do you… Do you guys want to meet her?” Penelope brightens up, and the rest of the team seem in higher spirits, despite their continued disappointment in themselves. Warily, Spencer opens the elevator door with a press of a button, and they all file in obediently.

“Please don’t be weird.”

“My good doctor, I would never!” He eyes Garcia with a fearful expression, but presses the ground floor button anyway. As the doors close, a strangled shout leaves JJ’s mouth.

“Wait, you live together?”

You are sitting on a bench inside the FBI Headquarters. No matter how many times you drop Spencer off or pick him up, this will always be surreal to you. And, right now, it’s not just surreal, it’s a little scary.

A real Danny Ocean type guy is sitting on a bench across the room, talking on the phone and eyeing you. Clearly, you don’t exactly look like an agent, you know that. Dressed in the uniform of a PhD student, jeans and an oversized Doctor Who t-shirt (Spencer’s), you know that you look out of place.

You’re just hoping Spencer walks out of the elevator before you get escorted out on suspicions that you’re a spy or something.

Like some deity has heard your words, you look up at the ding of the elevator to see Spencer… and a whole gaggle of people behind him, slapping at his shoulders and barraging him with questions. He looks harried, a line between his pretty eyes.

The line disappears, though, when he locks eyes with you. His eyes light up, and his steps grow in length, before he's left his entourage behind, at least for a couple of seconds.

He uses this time to explain to you: “Hi hello I'm so glad you're here and I need to tell you something-” As if on instinct, your hands come up to rest on his upper arms, thumbs moving in circles soothingly as he continues to ramble.

“-and well, they didn't know about you somehow? Which is crazy to me because you know I don't hide you so I don't know where they got that from but either way they were acting crazy, so I suggested they come meet you, and…” The group of people you now recognize to be the BAU have caught up to him, eyes darting between your face and Spencer's. His shoulders slump, and the agitated look returns, if a little less intense.

“Well, here they are.” He motions to the group behind him. “These are my coworkers, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Rising on your toes to see over his shoulder, you wave with a smile, eyes zeroing in on Penelope Garcia, who looks like she's vibrating from excitement, shouldering past Spencer to hold both of your hands.

“Hi! It's so good to meet you! I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but you know that's a lie, we didn't realize you existed until 10 minutes ago, but oh my god! You're here! You're so pretty- Spencer, she's so pretty!” She's practically bouncing up and down, causing Spencer to laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah, Garcia, I know that.” The next few minutes are a barrage of introductions and handshakes, all so brief that you can only get quick first impressions of them all.

Penelope is incredibly kind, not letting go of your hands until Spencer pries her off of you, telling you that you have to come out on girl's night with us, exactly like Spencer described her.

Elle is nearly intimidatingly cool, giving you a handshake and a smile, mentioning that she likes your eyeliner.

Aaron (Hotch? You're not sure how to refer to him) is nowhere near as stoic and intimidating as Spencer makes him out to be, breaking into a smile as he introduces himself, and grinning even wider when you congratulate him and his wife on their newborn child.

JJ is the sweetest. You've heard a lot about Spencer's best friend, and she lives up to expectations, squeezing you into a chaste hug with warm words.

Gideon is a little terrifying. He gives you a handshake, quirking the side of his lips in what you assume to be a smile, but saying very little beyond an introduction. You know how highly Spencer thinks of him, and hope he will warm up to you (Spencer is over the moon that he smiled, and tells you Gideon loved you later that night).

Derek is exactly how you expected him to be. Somehow, he makes you feel wholly comfortable after a single comment, and promises to regale you with all the Spencer stories you'd want (you see him punch Spencer in the arm, grinning and saying he approved).

Spencer pulls you away from them as quick as he can, citing your dinner plans as an excuse. He slings an arm around your waist, leading you out the door as you wave over your shoulder.

“It was great to meet you guys! We should go out to dinner or something!” You hear mixed shouts of agreement from behind you, before the doors shut and it's just you and Spencer, on the sidewalk outside the building.

It's butterfly-inducing, the way you can see the tension leave his shoulders when he turns to look down at you, brown eyes shining.

“I'm sorry that was so last-minute, I know they can be… a lot.” You giggle at the weariness in his tone, resting your forearms on his shoulders.

“They were really nice, Spence. I'm glad to finally meet them. They didn't know who I was?” He sighs, hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“I don't know what goes on with them half the time. I've told them things about you so many times, but they were just being dense, I suppose. They saw us on Friday, at ‘O Keefe’s, and they had no idea I was seeing someone!” He bends to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck with a sigh. As if on instinct, your hands come up to play with his hair.

“I guess they would have found it a little strange that you acted like nothing had changed, huh? Is that why they were being weird today?” He grumbles unintelligible words into your skin, before raising his head to look at you.

“I guess… You know I wasn't hiding you, right? I really thought they knew about you,” The earnestness on his face makes you want to implode, his thumbs rubbing minutely on your waist. Speaking would pop the bubble you've found yourselves in, so you find the best next option for you to show him your assertion.

Your hands roam up his neck to cup either side of his jaw, and slow, slow, slowly, you rise to your toes and kiss him.

Suddenly, Spencer's not worried anymore.

[ivyues]

Unfiltered Beauty: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O not wearing makeup often

Bang Chan

You sat on the couch in Chan’s studio, scrolling through your phone while he adjusted the levels on his track. You’d come straight from home in a hoodie, hair tied back, and no makeup on.

“Can you stop?” Chan suddenly said, leaning back in his chair.

“Stop what?” you asked, looking up at him in confusion.

“Being so distracting,” he said, smirking.

You furrowed your brow. “I’m literally sitting here doing nothing.”

“Exactly,” he replied, spinning his chair toward you. “You’re sitting there, looking all natural and gorgeous, and it’s ruining my focus.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “So, you’re saying I look better without makeup? That’s just a roundabout way of dissing my makeup skills.”

“No way!” he protested, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair as he grinned at you.. “Your makeup skills are great, but you don’t need them. You’re stunning just as you are.”

“Nice save,” you teased, laughing as his grin widened.

Lee Know

Lee Know leaned against the doorway, watching you on the floor surrounded by his beloved cats. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, your hair loose, and your face completely bare. Dori lay sprawled in your lap, soaking up your affection, while Soonie eagerly chased the string you were wiggling.

“What?” you asked when you noticed him staring, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“You look so…at home,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

You looked down at his shirt, then at the cats. “Well, your clothes are comfy, and your cats worship me. What can I say? I fit right in.”

He chuckled, walking over to crouch next to you. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “No makeup, messy hair, and still managing to outshine everything in this room,” he murmured, his eyes warm as they met yours.

You smirked, leaning closer. “Even Dori?”

His lips twitched into a grin. “Okay, let’s not get carried away.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before scooping Dori off your lap. “But you’re definitely a close second.”

Changbin

Steam billowed out of the bathroom as you stepped into the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Your damp hair fell over your shoulders, and your freshly scrubbed face glowed naturally. Changbin looked up from his phone and froze, his eyes lingering on you.

“What?” you asked, shifting under his gaze as you walked to the closet.

“Nothing,” he said, setting his phone aside. “I just realized something.”

You turned, curious. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup around me,” he said thoughtfully, standing up and walking toward you.

You blinked. “Really? I mean, I only wear it for big events or when I’m feeling fancy. Otherwise, it’s too much work.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I like that. It feels like you’re showing me the most real version of yourself. That’s special.”

You softened at his words. “It’s not really a big deal, though.”

“It is to me,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. No makeup, no filters, just you.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “Thanks, Binnie. You’re pretty great, too.”

“Of course I am,” he teased. “But better get dressed before I spend the next hour telling you how amazing you are.”

Hyunjin

You walked out of your room wearing light makeup for a casual outing with Hyunjin. He looked up from his phone, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked, standing up.

“Yeah, I felt like it today,” you replied, adjusting your jacket. “Why, does it look bad?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just…you don’t usually wear it. It’s like seeing a rare art piece that’s been hidden in a museum vault.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Hyunjin.”

He grinned, stepping closer to study your face. “Maybe, but it’s true. You’re already a masterpiece, whether it’s painted or not.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“I know,” he said with a wink. “But you love me for it.”

Han

Han came home after a long day at the studio to find you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you stirred something on the stove. You were wearing one of his hoodies, your face bare, and your hair in a messy bun.

“Hey,” he greeted, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You turned your head to smile at him. “Hey, you’re home early.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of your shampoo. “You’re like a walking comfort zone.”

You chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“The best kind,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “No makeup, no stress, just you being perfect.”

Felix

You were tying your sneakers, ready to head out for a quick grocery run with Felix. As you stood up, he glanced at you, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re not wearing makeup?” he asked, smiling softly.

“Do I need it for the groceries?” you teased, grabbing your bag.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I love that about you. You don’t feel like you need to impress anyone.”

“Well,” you said, bumping his shoulder playfully, “I still want to impress you.”

He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “You already impress me every single day. Makeup or not, you’re perfect.”

Seungmin

Seungmin was scrolling through his phone while you cleaned up after dinner. He paused on a photo of you from a recent formal event and held it up.

“This one’s nice,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied, glancing at the screen. “I did the makeup myself.”

He grinned mischievously. “It’s good.”

“Good? Just good?” you said, pretending to be offended, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, his gaze softening. “I mean, you don’t really need it. You look better without it anyway.”

You smirked, lightly slapping the back of his head with the towel. “You’re lucky I like you, Seungmin.”

I.N

You felt exhausted, so you put on a little makeup to cover up the dark circles under your eyes before your boyfriend came over. When he arrived, he tilted his head, studying your face.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I'm feeling tired and didn’t want to look like it too.”

He stepped closer, gently taking your hands. “You don’t need this,” he said with a small smile. “I like you the way you are, even when you’re tired or feeling off. You’re always my favorite person.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. “Thanks, Jeongin.”

He grinned, squeezing your hands. “Now come on. Let’s watch a movie and relax. We can also take a nap if you want.”

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

18+ mdni! 

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

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

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[bootycallin]

bush enthusiast vi… mhm mhm 🫡 cw: nsfw utc. wlw. swéaríng. cúnņılınġus. pet names (cupcake, babe, etc.). unshaven reader if u couldn’t tell. this woman’s a múnch and i’m dying on that hill. not proofread.

to say vi was surprised was an understatement.

inside, she was almost distraught. first you were making out on your couch, then her hand slipped under your shirt and that’s when it started to get heated. she was kissing down the valley of your breasts, feeling you up, all the way down to your stomach and right before she could reach her heaven between your legs—

“vi, wait,” you stopped her. your hand, previously cradling the back of her head, grasped slightly at her hair, tugging ever so slightly at the strands.

she looks up at you with the most confused gaze. you’ve never stopped her from going down on you before. had she gone too quick? had she made you uncomfortable, hurt you? there were a million questions running through her head. but, only one came out.

“what’s wrong, cupcake?” she asked, palms pressing into your thighs. she was in between your legs, calves thrown over her broad shoulders. she never tried to deny it was her favorite position. she could die with a smile if it meant being buried between your legs.

“you… don’t want me to…?” her breath was right on your pelvis as she looked up at you, almost like a confused puppy. “i mean, not gonna make you, you just— never say no, yknow?”

“i know, i—“ you blush a bit at being called out like that. she wasn’t lying, you never said no to her eating you out. not her fault her tongue game was diabolical, to say the least.

“it’s just…” you paused, caressing the back of her head slightly as you wonder how to phrase it, unsure of how she would react. until you said to hell with it… you’ve been dating for long enough. surely she would understand, right?

“i haven’t shaved,” you whispered, almost so quiet she couldn’t hear it.

she blinks up at you a few times, the silence stretching out between you. you can’t look at her, embarrassment growing.

“so-“

“so what?”

she cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, squeezing your thighs a little tighter.

“you think i care about that, babe?” she chuckled. it wasn’t a mocking sound, but it was genuinely amused. like the mere idea of her not pleasuring you because you haven’t shaved was ridiculous. because, to be fair, it was.

“come on. i spent years in prison. you think i shaved back then?” she hooked a thumb under the hem of your underwear, not letting you protest as she shuffles your thighs a bit so she can pull them off and be met with your already wet cunt—just waiting for her. she kisses your clit, open-mouthed and messy and needy. her nose is pressed against the hair you tried to hide, shamelessly, as she licks a long stripe from your swollen nub and down your slit, briefly licking your slick entrance. she pulls away only for a second, just to speak, breath hot against your exposed cunt:

“you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think a little hair’s gonna stop me from eating this pretty fucking pussy.”

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race

୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.

You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.

“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”

“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”

His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.

“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”

You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.

When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.

Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”

You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”

Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.

“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”

Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.

The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.

But then it happened.

It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.

Your heart stopped.

The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”

Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.

“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.

When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.

“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.

You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.

You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.

“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”

It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.

And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?

You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.

Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[rottenfyre]

Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

[nateconnolly]

Would you say there is a singular and perfect representation of the “average human”?

No.

What is “neurotypical”?

I use it to describe someone who does not have cognitive, mental, and/or neurological disabilities.

I am aware that these concepts are fuzzy, but that doesn't mean that they're nonsense. Race, too, is a socially constructed category -- and its boundaries have shifted over time -- but I don't think it's useless to refer to some people as white, and others as people of color.

Many disability scholars acknowledge that the category is kind of a moving target, but come up with adequate models. Alison Kafer describes several competing models of disability in the introduction to Feminist, Queer, Crip. If you ask politely, I'd be happy to say more about this (can't promise that it would be soon, tho).

One important piece of this puzzle is the fact that “autism” and “ADHD” are terms created by individuals to describe individuals.

I genuinely don't understand why you're saying this. How does it contradict the point I tried to make in the original post?

The DSM changes every 5-7 years.

So does the driver's manual in my state. That doesn't mean anyone and everyone can change road law on a whim.

I am completely open to many critiques of the APA, but I don't think it's fair to say "This relatively new field of science is still adjusting, therefore it's bullshit."

I do not personally think it’s a bad thing that social media is spreading awareness about quirks that are human- thus, ultimately convincing humans that they are having human responses- with responses that once made them feel alien for feeling it.

I am not convinced there's a sizable percentage of people who feel alienated because they like music in general a lot. There... could be? But right now, I haven't seen or heard anything that indicates large numbers of people think feel inhuman because they get songs stuck in their heads.

Radical honesty time: I'm straight up not sure what you were trying to say there, so maybe my comment is off the mark? But that's my best attempt to address the concern as it's been expressed.

I don’t see how a label someone gives themselves, or receives from a professional, changes the “legitimacy” of finally having your feelings fit into a “category” such as neurodiversity/the spectrum.

I... never said other people having autism changes the legitimacy of my own experience? I just don't think that you automatically have it if you've ever fought for social justice.

I'd also like to note that autism isn't entirely about how you feel. I'm not talking about where my "feelings fit."

How does this affect you enough to throw shade about it?

I think psychology has a long way to go, but I still consider the discipline (a relatively young branch of) science. I like it when people believe scientific facts. I understand psychology reasonably well, and so when I see people repeatedly spread psychological claims that are just false, it frustrates me.

Realistically, psychology will continue to evolve in ways that emphasize spectrums as a way to understand consciousness.

Autism.... already is a spectrum???? According to the DSM???? They started describing it as a spectrum before the first Toy Story movie.

Also, four sentences ago it seemed like you were saying it's bad that the DSM changes. Isn't evolution, as you put it, a form of change?

TikTok has convinced so many people that you're autistic or ADHD if you have completely typical experiences like "getting songs stuck in your head" or "having a strong sense of social justice" or "reverently kissing the ice-cold crown of the crow lord". No, you do not need to have autism to squeeze your eyes shut and stand completely still as a living statue to demonstrate your total submission to the crow lord. Plenty of neurotypical people bring him tributes of glass beads, tinfoil strips, roadkill, coins from dead men's pockets, and mice or rabbits fattened weeks in advance. Honestly TikTok has become such a dangerous engine for spreading misinformation. I wouldn't be surprised if they provoke the wrath of the crow lord soon.

[wordsinhaled]

People call Charles Edwin’s guard dog and Edwin thinks it’s going to offend him, getting more up in arms about it than Charles ever does. But it doesn’t seem to bother Charles at all. And Edwin doesn’t understand, not at first, not until Charles tells him, “So what if they think I’ll bite if they lay a finger on you? Not exactly wrong, are they?”

Suddenly, it makes sense. Why Charles takes the comments in stride. Why he seems to take pride in the suggestion.

Charles feels like Edwin should have someone who is willing to do all that for him, go that far for him—and of course that someone’ll be Charles himself. Edwin reflects that he’d never had that sort of fervent devotion from anyone, certainly not when he was alive, and no one has come close since but Charles. He reflects on how good it feels to be fundamentally seen, valued in such a way.

Still, Edwin worries—does Charles know that Edwin is just as dedicated to keeping him safe, his heart and his spectral body and his soul? That Charles is the most precious gift Edwin never dreamt to be given, and—

Does Charles know that, every day? That he’s more than his teeth? That he’s more than everything Edwin could want? That he’s sweetness and light?

It’s Charles’ loving touch that Edwin yearns for and craves, when he’s laughing harder than he ever has, in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and it’s just him and Charles in the warmly-lit office, tipping against each other on the tiny sofa that never feels cramped when it’s keeping the two of them near. The actual joke goes forgotten in the self-replenishing haze of their giggles, their shoulders knocking together, Charles’ ankle hooked around Edwin’s.

Edwin’s hand lands on Charles’ jaw, barely-there fingertips turning Charles’ head, easy, so easy, to look at him. To catch Charles’ gaze, deep and shining and—they’re so close to each other, a bit heady with leftover mirth, and Edwin will never forget that it’s Charles who moves first to press his smiling lips to Edwin’s, simple as ever, like it’s the next line in their conversation.

It knocks the breath straight out of Edwin: the breath he hasn’t needed in three-odd decades. But it’s all right because Charles’ mouth is opening against his, so right and inviting, and Charles is gasping too like he’s in the same dizzy predicament, and Edwin never wants it to end.

“Charles,” he says, “Charles, my darling, are you…?”

Charles’ eyes are dark as ink when he pulls back, only far enough to nudge his nose against Edwin’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, smile flashing bright like a slice of the moon. He closes his eyes, a flutter of lashes Edwin can feel against his own cheekbone, followed by the soft drag of a kiss. Then another. “Should’ve seen it, really,” Charles goes on, in between still more kisses, words said into Edwin’s skin. “‘Cause you’re it for me, Edwin, aren’t you, love? I just didn’t see. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you first—”

“Never mind,” Edwin says, “tell me now,” and then they’re kissing once more. The testing scrape of Charles’ teeth over Edwin’s lower lip, the nibble on his upper, is tentative, too tentative, and Edwin ought to have known, he ought to have suspected… but still he doesn’t, doesn’t expect the keening, tremulous moan that tumbles out of him at the promise of it all.

Charles chuckles, the sound settling in Edwin’s belly, making a home in his chest. “You like that?” he asks. Awed. Still hesitant. The laughter from earlier still layered in Charles’ voice, along with a new sort of hoarseness, a new sort of rasp Edwin could listen to forever. “Don’t wanna put you off, do I, love…”

“I will hardly be put off, Charles. In fact, I—” Edwin swallows, convulsive and wanting, sees Charles’ focus drop to his throat, find the soft underside of his jaw as he tips his chin up. “I would not have you hold back with me. Set your hands where you wish. Your mouth—where you wish. Your…” It is his turn to close his eyes.

“My teeth,” Charles finishes for him softly. “Wherever I…?”

“Yes,” Edwin says. “Yes.”

[capquinn]

I think abt decorating the apartment with Quinn and then he tricks you into getting under the mistletoe with him and goes “oh you remember the rules”

blushing and kicking my feet picturing this. what a sweet thought 😭🥹

It happens when you least expect it.

One moment, you’re carefully arranging stockings along the mantle — because Quinn’s first attempt had them completely uneven and absolutely not aesthetically pleasing — and the next, he’s suddenly loitering in the doorway to the kitchen with that look on his face. The one that says he’s up to something.

“Hey, can you come here for a sec?” he calls, his tone so casual it immediately puts you on edge.

You glance over your shoulder, already suspicious. “If you’ve tangled the lights again…”

He laughs, shaking his head, hands tucked behind his back like he’s hiding something. “Nope. Lights are good. Just come here.”

You hesitate, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re up to something?”

“I’m not up to anything,” he insists, but his grin is too big, too playful to be convincing.

Against your better judgment, you leave the stockings and make your way toward him. The closer you get, the more obvious it becomes that he’s hiding something.

“Alright,” you say, stopping just shy of the doorway. “What is it?”

He tilts his head ever so slightly, feigning innocence as his gaze flicks upward.

That’s when you see it: the small sprig of mistletoe dangling right above where he’s standing.

Your jaw drops as you look back at him, and he’s already grinning, the picture of shameless mischief.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he says, glancing up toward the mistletoe like it’s just magically appeared, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

“You actually put up mistletoe,” you say, crossing your arms but stepping closer anyway.

He nods, completely unfazed. “It’s festive. Classic. Very on theme,” he says, his tone so casual it’s almost believable. Almost.

“All this just to sneak a kiss?” you tease, shaking your head, though you can’t stop the grin that creeps in.

He shrugs, the picture of feigned nonchalance, but there’s a warmth in his gaze that gives him away. As you come to a stop in front of him, his hands slide to your waist, his touch light but firm enough to pull you closer.

“You know the rules,” he murmurs, his lips quirking up in that boyish grin that always gets to you.

You roll your eyes but don’t pull away, letting his thumbs brush against your sides as his nose dips, brushing against yours.

“Feels a little desperate, Quinn,” you tease softly, your hands slipping up to rest on his chest. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, dipping his head slightly to press a quick kiss to your hair. His breath is warm, the soft affection in the gesture making your stomach flip in that familiar way only he can manage.

“Very smooth,” you say, tipping your head back to meet his gaze, eyes sparkling. “Did you rehearse this?”

He hums thoughtfully, his forehead dropping to rest lightly against yours. “You think I need to rehearse to get a kiss from you?”

“Maybe,” you tease back, your lips twitching. “Depends on how much you want it.”

His laugh is quiet, his nose brushing against yours again before his lips find your cheek. “More than you’d think,” he says softly, his voice dropping just enough to send a warmth blooming in your chest.

You lean into him now, your hands curling into the fabric of his sweater. “So what now, Hughes? Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna—”

Before you can finish, his lips are on yours, soft and deliberate, stealing the rest of your words in a kiss that’s as playful as it is tender. His hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer with a quiet ease, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your side. The kiss deepens naturally, unhurried and warm, his nose brushing against yours in a way that feels achingly intimate. There’s no rush, just the quiet certainty of his touch, his lips lingering on yours like he’s savouring the moment, like he doesn’t want it to end. When he finally pulls back, his breath mingles with yours, and the faintest smile curves his lips — soft, teasing, a little smug.

“Still think it’s desperate?” he murmurs, his voice low, warm, and entirely too pleased with himself.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but grinning, rising onto your toes. You press a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips, just enough to leave him leaning in for more. “But it’s working for you.”

[fucknugg3t]

seriously!! I had a teacher who argued that old ass men buying and marrying little girls was ok because it’s a different time back then and it was there culture so I can’t say anything against it because it would be disrespectful and like holy fuck? No? I tried to argue back and he said well we’re your proof how do you know and I’m like my guy I’m no goddamn historian but that’s just wrong like on a moral level there’s lots of things that are “normal” for our “culture” and their fucked up so the excuse it’s just culture is so shitty and he laughed and said I didn’t have a actual example of anyone not liking it and he was just playing devils advocate I fucking hate that teacher like a day later it hit me fucking PERSEPHONE i could’ve said Persephone‼️‼️‼️‼️ And I could’ve said clearly if an entire myth was made about mother mourning their daughters being taken and married off then it had to have happened alot!!! There must’ve been countless people like Demeter disturbed and terrifyed for their little daughters and countless Persephone’s who were taken and advantage of and stolen away

it always grossed me out how persephone’s kidnapping would be modernized and turned into a love story between her and hades and everyone acted all like “ohhh well Demeter is just some old hater lady who doesn’t like age gaps and persephone wants to escape with her lover and they live happily ever after” no what the fuck

if you want to tell that story there’s so many other gods and people to choose from to modernize!! There’s so many goddamn secret mortal lovers or whatever you could pick ANYONE ELSE leave the fucking rape victim and her mother alone let her at least be acknowledged in a myth I mean you really have to think about this can you imagine being a girl back then and hearing that myth and knowing at least somebody out there gets it and is worried about you and maybe others will hear it and know what really happened and how messed up it really was and how scared you are like that story had to mean so much to so many people back then let’s not be like fucking disrespectful ALSO that’s like still a religion There’s people who worship the Greek gods how do you think they feel having their gods misrepresented

anyway I’m no history professor or and I don’t study Greek mythology but that’s what I think

if Persephone and Demeter got to be upset and mourn this and all the women who dealt with all this garbage back then then you do to yknow I mean you could already but it’s gotta be nice seeing someone like yourself out there especially from the past and seeing them mourn what happened to them sort of feels like you can do the same thing and you feel less alone? Hopefully. people have always been going through shit and been ignored and talked down to over it so it’s ok to be upset and angry don’t let anyone convince you what you went through isn’t real or actually upsetting

[starsjulia]

leah vs the kitchen // leah williamson

a/n : more fluff!!!

warnings : traumatised beth, mentions of sex

The moment you stepped through the front door, you knew something was wrong. The smell… oh, the smell. It hit you like a wall. Burnt… something. Not “oops, I left the toast in too long” burnt. It was the “fire department might need to get involved” kind of burnt.

“Leah?” you called out cautiously, shutting the door behind you.

From the kitchen came a crash, followed by a very unconvincing, “Stay out there! I’ve got it under control!”

You snorted, shrugging off your coat. Under control. Sure. If Leah Williamson ever had something in the kitchen “under control,” you’d eat your own shoe. You’d been with her long enough to know: Leah was talented in many, many ways. Cooking was not one of them.

“Are you burning down our kitchen for fun or…?”

“Just—just five more minutes!” Leah shouted back.

“Love, I think you’re out of time.”

You followed the smell to the kitchen and immediately stopped dead. It looked like a war zone. A pot sat abandoned in the sink, still faintly smoking. Something unidentifiable bubbled angrily on the stove, its consistency closer to wet cement than food. There were bowls, pans, and splatters of something everywhere. Leah stood in the middle of it all, wooden spoon in hand, hair falling out of her bun, and a streak of sauce across her forehead like war paint.

“Leah,” you said slowly, “why does our kitchen look like it’s being exorcised?”

She whipped around to face you, eyes wide with a mix of panic and hope. “You’re home early.”

“You said to come home at six. It’s six.”

“Well, yeah, but like six-ish,” Leah mumbled, abandoning the spoon in the bubbling pot of doom.

You crossed your arms, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “Is this… dinner?”

Leah exhaled loudly, running a hand down her face and smudging more sauce onto her cheek. “It was supposed to be. I watched two cooking tutorials for this, babe. Two.”

“Oh, you really committed,” you teased, stepping closer.

“I did!” Leah insisted, throwing her hands in the air. “But then I turned my back for one second, and the risotto—”

“Risotto?” You peered into the pot and grimaced. “Babe, that’s not risotto. That’s glue.”

Leah groaned, leaning against the counter in defeat. “I wanted this to be special. It’s our anniversary, and I thought, you know, candles, home-cooked dinner, romantic gestures… I was trying to impress you.”

You softened immediately, stepping up to her and slipping your arms around her waist. “Leah, you already impress me.”

She looked down at you, unimpressed by your sweetness. “You’re just saying that because I look cute with sauce on my face.”

“That too,” you replied, grinning. “But I’m serious. I don’t need a perfect dinner to know you love me.”

Leah sighed, resting her forehead against yours. “I do love you, though. So much it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” you teased. “Big England captain, embarrassed?”

“Only when it comes to you,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The kiss lingered, warm and sweet, as Leah’s fingers skimmed up your back and yours tangled in her hair. For a moment, you forgot all about the smoke, the bubbling disaster on the stove, and the kitchen that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Leah kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, and honestly, you were happy to let her…

Until the front door slammed open.

“Oi! Tell me there’s no food poisoning happening this time—”

“BETH!” Leah shouted, jerking back so quickly she nearly knocked you over.

There, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, was Beth, your toddler son perched on her hip, staring at the scene with wide, horrified eyes. Behind her, Viv peered over her shoulder with a grin, clearly enjoying the chaos far more than Beth was.

Beth took one look at the smoke curling from the stove and the sauce streaked across Leah’s face and muttered, “Jesus Christ. It’s happening again.”

“Beth, get out!” Leah cried, her cheeks turning beet red.

“I knew this would happen,” Beth said, ignoring Leah entirely. She turned to your son. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”

Your son wrinkled his nose dramatically, pointing at the stove. “Mama, why are you burning food again?”

Leah clapped a hand over her face. “I hate all of you.”

You, on the other hand, were too busy laughing to defend her. Beth shot you a look. “Don’t laugh! You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

“What you’ve been through?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Beth pointed an accusing finger at Leah. “Last time I babysat, I came back early and walked in on—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Leah warned, eyes wide.

“—unspeakable horrors,” Beth finished dramatically, turning to Viv for support. “I haven’t been the same since.”

Leah groaned, grabbing a tea towel and whipping it in Beth’s direction. “You’re so dramatic.”

Beth ducked out of the way, still clutching your son like a shield. “I am dramatic because I’m traumatized. I see them kiss now, and I flinch.”

Viv snorted, clearly unbothered. “You brought it on yourself, to be fair.”

“Why do you always come home early anyway?” Leah grumbled, narrowing her eyes at Beth. “You’re meant to be babysitting.”

“I was babysitting,” Beth replied. “But he wanted his dinosaur toy, so we came back to get it. And you’re lucky I did because I think you were seconds away from setting this place on fire.”

Your son perked up at this, clearly unfazed by the chaos. “Is the house gonna blow up?”

“No, mate,” Leah said quickly, shooting you a helpless look. “It’s not gonna blow up.”

Beth raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that, Williamson?”

“Out,” Leah hissed, pointing toward the door.

Beth grinned, finally setting your son down and ruffling his hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll take him to ours and actually babysit. You two… do whatever it is you do when I’m not here to stop it.”

“Beth!”

She only cackled, grabbing Viv’s hand and dragging your son back out of the kitchen.

The moment the door slammed shut behind them, Leah groaned, sinking to the floor. “I’m never going to live this down.”

You sat beside her, leaning your head on her shoulder. “You’re really bad at keeping secrets from Beth.”

“She has a sixth sense for interrupting,” Leah muttered darkly. “I swear she hides in the bushes waiting for us to kiss.”

You grinned, reaching over to tug Leah’s face toward you. “Hey, it’s okay. Despite the ruined dinner, the smoke, and Beth’s trauma, I still love you.”

Leah softened immediately, a lovesick smile spreading across her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her lap and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know?”

You smiled, turning to kiss her softly. “Even though I make fun of your cooking?”

“Especially then,” Leah replied, grinning against your lips.

And as the smell of burnt food lingered in the kitchen and Beth’s dramatic complaints echoed faintly in your head, you realized it really was the perfect anniversary, chaos, laughter, and all.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 1

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, drinking Wordcount: 5.4K A/C: another pregame treat!! need my girls to deliver tonight!! anyways, here is chapter one, this one is about to start a little slower and i'm sorry about that but i promise it'll pick up and get more interesting, i got big plans for this one y'all!! anyway please leave feedback/thoughts/reviews whatever for me, i love them :)

-

Before London

The Dallas roads are busy, stretching out for miles out into the horizon as I stare out the window. My lungs craved fresh air, itching to open it. But I knew the air outside would bring no such relief, the humidity of this time of year already bringing me one step closer to packing my bags and making my way back to Connecticut. Everyone told me to turn the AC on, but I was much too stubborn and stuck in my ways. My dad would have come over himself and turn it off if he knew I was considering turning it on in April - much too early for his liking.

I had been here for a week now, seven long days. Each one making me more homesick. I missed my girls. I missed my team. I missed the normal weather and the East Coast. It was so bad I was on the phone with my dad every night, complaining. I knew as much as he loved me, he was getting sick of it.

“Paige, let’s figure this out,” Britt’s voice comes through the speaker phone, five garment bags sent by her laid out on the bed, ready to be opened.

“What do you even wear to this sorta thing?” I ask, speaking into the phone. My hands are opening one bag after another.

“Baby I dunno, you just gotta pick something. What kinda vibe do you wanna give off?” Brittany asks sweetly as I place my phone on the bed in front of me, pulling my shirt off over my head.

“I can’t think, it’s too hot,” I complain, rubbing my face. “I hate it here, wanna come back.”

“Paige, you gotta push through this. Try and look at it differently, at least you like your teammates!” 

I whine and lie down, my back hitting the soft cotton of the sheets. “Do you think they’d let me take my sixth year?”

“Oh my gosh girl you gotta pull yourself together,” Brittany laughs, which in turn makes me laugh too. I knew I was being dramatic, my team was great, the coaching staff seemed amazing. But it was my first time living alone, I didn’t know what to do with myself and all this energy I had. I felt like I was two days away from jumping off the walls.

Lou and Arike had both taken me under their wing, and the few joint practices we’d had with the team the past week seemed promising. Not good, but like there might be potential for something with hard work. I was well taken care of and grateful for it, but the thing is at Uconn I was spoiled. I got to live with my best friends. To spend every moment with them, get on their nerves and not worry because in the end they were my sisters.

“Where are you going?” Britt asks.

“Some sorta steakhouse,” I answer, rubbing my eyes.

“Boujee or like… Texas?”

I snort, grabbing the phone from beside me.

“It’s a nice place I heard. But Rike been here for so long she mighta forgot what nice is,” I joke sitting back up.

“Then go with the blue bag.”

Unzipping it, I find a pair of black shorts, and an oversized dark green crewneck sweatshirt. 

“Ion know about this Britt it’s a lil… boring,” I mumble looking over the outfit. When did I last wear dark green anyway.

“That’s why you dress it up girl! Wear a collared shirt under it, put on some chains, some nice shoes, trust it’ll fit the vibe, you don’t wanna be doing too much. Have I ever let you down?”

I sigh. I could see the vision the moment she started talking. “No you have not,” I reply. “I gotta start getting ready. Thanks again.”

“Anytime Paige,” she answers and we hang up. I know silence can’t echo, but it’s so overwhelming it almost feels like that’s exactly what it’s doing. Storrs was always loud, lively. Now I had it so bad I was even missing KK’s neverending rambling. 

Quickly putting on a playlist to get rid of the aching pressure on my chest, I begin to get ready, rapping along to a Drake song loudly - but who cares I live alone now. I sleek back my hair, pinning it into a bun - the one hairstyle I knew how to do. I put on some diamond studs, and take my time picking accessories, choosing just the right silver rings to match the chain on my neck, a cross hanging from it. Of course, Brittany had been right. The outfit was great, not too much for a nice restaurant but still totally me.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself when I check the time, realising Lou must be waiting on me downstairs. Grabbing a white cross-body bag I run out the door, quickly making my way down where, just like I thought, the brunette was waiting, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently.

“Sorry I’m late,” I yelp climbing into the passenger seat. Since I barely knew Dallas, Lou had decided it was best if she drove both of us.

Shaking her head, the girl driving merges onto the road swiftly. “Not gonna be making a good impression if we bring our rookie to the party late,” Lou complains.

I scoff, leaning back against the seat and tapping on the back of my phone, feeling butterflies grow in my abdomen. I knew I made good first impressions, that people seemed to like me. I wasn’t called the ultimate rizzler for nothing. But it was still daunting, I was about to meet all the people who worked behind the team, behind me just so we could do what we do. 

The past week had been so strange.The change in dynamic was drastic. I had become so used to being the older one, the one to call the shots, to have so much wisdom to give. Almost naively so. All of a sudden I was back to being the baby - the one who didn’t know anything, who had to depend on others. I thought I was prepared. But the transition was hard to navigate. I didn’t quite know how to act, if I was honest.

“Yo chill, I’m not even that late,” I chuckle lightheartedly, looking out the car window, my eyes trying to find something worth changing my mind about Dallas for.

“Ten minutes is too much, we gotta pick up Rike too,” Lou complains, hands on the wheel. It was only April but the humidity made it feel like summer. “Were you late talking to that girl?”

“What girl?” I ask.

“That girl from last night!” Lou laughs, elbowing me.

I shrug, like I had no clue what she was talking about. A complete lie. I hadn’t been thinking straight ever since I saw her.

“Ohh you mean that girl downstairs!” I say sarcastically. The brunette next to me sees right through it though.

“Never heard your voice get so quiet and shaky I swear,” Lou says, a blush setting on the apples of my cheeks thinking back to last evening. “You were fully stuttering.”

“No way bro!” I groan, biting my lower lip so as to not laugh. Though I knew better. I was definitely stuttering.

I hadn’t seen much of the girl, just her face poking through the door into the hallway. But something about her took my breath away, I couldn’t look anywhere else. It was Lou finally elbowing me that made me realise I had been staring at the dark haired girl. She was so beautiful it physically pained me to look away, but with a struggle, I had done so. 

But then she spoke. And if I wasn’t trembling before, the lilt of her voice had me weak in the knees immediately. It was deep, yet simultaneously sweet. Nevermind the accent that hadn’t left my head all night. Lou made fun of me relentlessly all night because apparently, my voice was shaking when I talked to her. I think she was full of shit.

“You were, I don’t blame you,” the brunette murmurs. “She was hot.”

I kiss my teeth, looking out the window. “Don’t matter, she could be Zendaya and I still wouldn’t get into all that.”

Lou looks bewildered, eyes flickering between me and the road.

I grin at her, shaking my head. “Nah I’m staying celibate. Scout’s honor. Got me that Natty last season.”

It was true. For the first time last season I had not been involved with any girl - and it worked out pretty well in the end. It got me the ring. Adapting to a new team, new city, new life was already hard enough without fucking around. Girls had a way of making everything complicated.

“You? Celibate?” Lou asks, her tone skeptical. I suppose she remembers a different Paige from when we were both Huskies. I had changed a lot though, grown up.

“Trust,” I nod as we park in front of a nice apartment building, Arike making her way out and into the car.

“Yo,” she greets us, and I nod into the rearview mirror, meeting her gaze.

“Sup my rookie!” Arike grins and squeezes my shoulder. “You ready for tonight?”

“Aren’t we just gonna eat and go home?” I ask but Lou and Rike are quick to shake their heads.

“Nah these things don’t end till late, we know how to party here you know what I’m sayin?” The girl in the back grins.

“Don’t blame you, nothing else to do here,” I complain half-jokingly. 

“Yooo not too much. You’ll grow to like it,” Arike laughs, grabbing her phone. “Just don’t drink everything people offer you today, got it?”

“Yeah, everyone’s gonna be trying to get you drunk,” Lou chuckles. “My rookie year they had me almost blacked out.”

“Almost? You were blacked out. We had to carry you to bed.”

I laugh and sigh, rubbing my jaw, my nerves stirring within my abdomen. “Great.”

-

The restaurant is buzzing with people, an entire second floor reserved just for the Dallas Wings employees. Arike, Lou and I show up fashionably late, but to my pleasant surprise everyone’s too busy huddling around the bar, lining up for drinks. I smooth over my green sweatshirt, already feeling the heat get to me. How the hell was I supposed to dress for weather like this? It wasn’t even summer yet.

I walk over to Satou, who’s grinning widely at me.

“Look at you, our baby rookie. Let’s get you a drink!” She smiles convincingly. I glance at Arike and Lou behind me, snickering amongst themselves already. So it begins.

“Feels wrong to drink at a team event like this,” I tell the taller girl, guiding me towards the bar. I was more used to sneaking drinks into hotel rooms, doing our best to hide them from the coaching staff. Guess this is what growing up feels like.

“Nah, don’t worry. Everyone’s chill here,” Satou laughs and orders us two beers before I have the opportunity to interrupt and ask for a Shirley. Reluctantly I grab the beer, cheering with the girl next to me.

“To the saviour of the Wings!!” She jokes and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

“Sorry, but could you check if they are Manzanilla olives?”

The accent. I immediately turn my back on Satou, my body working before my mind can as my eyes scan the room. And then I see her. The girl from the apartment underneath mine.

She’s standing at the other end of the bar, holding a black clutch in her hand as she talks with the bartender. Her dark hair is down, in perfect waves, not one strand out of order. The dress she’s wearing isn’t red, but more maroon, shade matching the red of her lipstick to the hilt. The one-shoulder dress leaves her left one completely bare, and the golden jewelry sitting against her light brown skin makes her sparkle in the moody lighting. No words would do justice, I know that much. My knees nearly buckle at the sight of her. This strange girl whose name I didn’t even know, yet kept haunting my existence here in Dallas.

“Oh they’re not? Then nevermind the martini, could I just get a glass of Chardonnay please?”

If I had been nervous before, then it was nothing compared to the way my stomach was stirring now. Which is insane considering I didn’t even know this girl’s name. Hell, I better just avoid her tonight. I’m not on my a game. I should just keep my distance.

“Paige! That’s the girl!” Lou is half whispering, half screaming over the crowd, incredibly obviously pointing at the dark haired girl. To my relief she doesn’t notice, too busy swirling the wine in her glass around and sniffing it. 

“Shut up,” I mouth to Lou as she walks up to me, Arike on her tail.

“What girl?” Arike whispers, already eyeing every woman over my shoulder.

I give Lou a look, widening my eyes and telling her to keep her mouth shut. But of course, it fails. I had no power here.

“We ran into this hot girl in Paige’s building yesterday and Paigey here got all shy and nervous.”

Arike bursts out laughing, and I’m pretty sure my face was going completely pink at this point. So I sip half of my beer quickly, letting the girls get over their laughing fit.

“You done?” I ask in annoyed, eyeing the girls.

Gasping for air, Arike nods and grins at me. “Well go get her.”

“She can’t, she’s celibate,” Lou answers. The shorter girl standing next to her scoffs, clearly finding amusement in that.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’re the new hooper in town, gon’ be drowning in pussy. I was,” she says, sipping her beer. “The rookie year is crazy.”

“Oh trust, she was drowning in it at Uconn too-”

“Okay okay, chill guys,” I interrupt the conversation, Satou standing next to us quietly and chuckling to herself. 

“So which one is it?” Arike asks. Glancing over my shoulder I see the girl from downstairs talking to some guy around the same age as her. Just as I’m about to point her out, Satou and Arike are waving that exact guy over.

“Yo Trey!! My guy!!”

All of a sudden he’s walking over with her. I feel my face going red, my breathing growing ragged, my eyes quickly flicking to the floor. She was like the sun, as much as I wanted to I couldn’t look directly at her - it might blind me.

“What’s up, my favourite girls!” The guy - Trey, apparently - says brightly and dabs all of them up. 

“Ahh and the prodigy!” He grins, turning to me. I lick my lower lip and smile back, offering my hand. “I’m the guy with the camera, you’ll see me around. Trey.”

I dab him up, ignoring the tingling on the left side of my body where the dark haired girl is standing, evidently feeling as awkward as I was. Except she was better at hiding it, looking around the room with an air of confidence.

“Well I’m the one with the basketball, you’ll know where to find me. I’m Paige,” I flash him my most charming smile. Everyone laughs at my joke, except the girl beside me. I quickly decide that perhaps getting drunk wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Oh this is Zari, she’s new from England, Linda finally hired someone to work on the social media shit,” Trey explains, pointing to the girl between me and him. I blink stupidly when I look at her. Somehow she was more beautiful up close which made my throat feel tighter. I quickly sip my beer again, looking to the ceiling. Fuck, pull yourself together. I wasn’t this superficial - feeling like this just because someone was hot. Who knows, she might be the worst person you’ve ever met.

“That would be me, hi!” She says when I realise I was barely listening to Trey before, completely not making note of her name. She shakes everyone’s hand, smiling kindly. Fuck, are my hands sweaty? Better wipe them on my shorts first. I gotta make eye contact - I’m sure a couple seconds will be enough. It might be all I can bear.

The girl turns to me, her right hand extended. I glance at it, gripping it gently. Her hand shake is surprisingly firm, but I barely notice, feeling as if my skin is on fire. The moment our eyes meet I look away, knowing that everyone and their mothers could tell I was blushing right now.

“I forgot your name,” is all that comes out of my mouth, so clumsily I wanna hide behind the bar and never come out when I realise how rude it sounded.

To my shock she’s not taken aback at all by my bluntness, instead holding herself with an almost regal air. I wasn’t sure if I was intimated or turned on - either way I was overcome with a desperate need to make her like me. Surely I was off to a horrible start.

Our eyes meet again. Hers are dark green, deep and rich like the pine trees back home. I can feel myself wanting to sink in deeper, to bask in their familiarity. To feel the sting of cold air and smell the snow falling from the sky and to bask in the scent of pine all over me. Before I know it I notice her glossed lips move, but my ears barely pick anything up. An I? And I think there was an A at the end? You gotta be kidding me.

“I- Ivanna?” I stutter. She chuckles softly, as the others around us snicker amongst themselves. Bitches. 

“No, darling, let’s try again,” she smiles, her tone so sweet it’s bordering on condescending. I fucking swoon at it. “Izara.”

I nod, not sure if the heat on my face is from how hot and humid it was inside the restaurant, or from the public humiliation in front of this gorgeous girl. I chuckle mostly to myself, rubbing my jaw and looking around to break eye contact finally. Far too distracting.

“Izara,” I repeat, noticing Satou, Arike, Lou and some of the others laughing at my clumsy behaviour. I was just begging Izara didn’t make note of why I was acting a fool. 

“Zari is better,” the brunette says, a slight teasing tone to her voice. I breathe heavily out my nose, trying to get the blush to settle from my cheeks.

“Zari, got it.”

“Took you long enough,” Arike teases, making everyone laugh, except Zari who just smiles at me.

“Guys, not all of us are used to the Texas heat. It messes with your head,” she says with enough authority in her voice to make everyone around us stop laughing and give me sympathetic looks.

“Uhh yeah, it’s hot,” I answer bluntly, my voice shaking a little as I rub my neck. On top of the mess I was, I could feel myself sweating. I have to get home as fast as possible. Or not home. But back to the apartment I was staying in for now, until the moment I could go back home to the East Coast.

“Shit, I’m Paige by the way,” I say, realising I never introduced myself to Zari. She scoffs, waving me off.

“Paige, it’s my job to know who you are,” she points out. It’s funny, and I want to laugh. But nothing comes out of my mouth, I’m simply unable to, her proximity leaving me completely discombobulated. So I just sip my beer.

“Right.”

-

Paige Bueckers hates me. The moment she met me I could tell. Maybe she was offended by the fact I didn’t recognise her last night. Figures, a star like her would have a huge ego. Still, I had one job tonight. To make her like me. And I had done the exact opposite. I could tell by the way she avoided my gaze, the way she barely wanted to shake my hand, abruptly pulling it away from my grip. She barely talked to me, wrapped up in a conversation with everyone besides me. I couldn’t afford to disappoint my boss, if I did it would be bye bye Dallas and hello London. 

I’m sitting between Trey and another colleague, Ava, both caught up in a lively conversation as I cut a piece of my steak, wrapping my lips around the fork and chewing on it. Glancing up from my plate, I see Paige throwing her head back as she laughs with her teammates, her entire demeanor so much more lively now that I wasn’t close to her. A slight irritation was growing in me, watching the carefree way she’s joking around with the people around her part of the long table. Who was she to make up her mind on whether she liked me so fast. I was the kind of person you grew to love. I’m sure she would as well.

“Okay everybody!” Curt Miller stands up clinking his glass with the cutlery. Suddenly everyone goes quiet, including the blonde. For a second our eyes meet, sending a strange jolt around my body. Blinking, I shift my gaze to the man, clearly ready to give a speech.

“Alright alright,” he laughs, “I just wanna thank everyone for coming here tonight. I was never good at these so let me keep it short. This is gonna be a big, exciting year and I’m so grateful to the Wings for giving me this opportunity. I know I’m a new face to some of you, but I’m in great company,” he grins and points to Paige. “And Linda here mentioned something about a new media employee too!”

Like on cue Linda stands up a few chairs to the right of me, nodding. “Yes Curt, we’ve got some young blood to help this year all the way from England. Izara here, should help us grow our social media reach.”

I smile, trying to focus on appearing together and poised, some people glancing towards me. 

“Awesome news!” Curt grins as Linda sits back down. “With two young talents I’m sure we’re gonna have a hell of a year,” he says, glancing at both me and Paige. I see Arike rub Paige’s shoulder, clearly excited and happy about how the lottery turned out for the Wings this year.

“Now since I’m boring everyone out of their minds why don’t you two say a few words.”

Pause. I feel a panic rise from somewhere deep in my abdomen. Don’t get me wrong, I had no issue with public speaking, no issue with performing. What I did have an issue with was improvising. I was the girl who planned, who made lists, who used to finish her essays the day before a deadline. With a plan I was golden, but to expect me to say anything, planless, was causing jitters. I was just hoping it didn’t show on my face.

Mine and Paige’s eyes meet, and I immediately know that I wasn’t as composed as I wanted to be. That she knew I was panicking. Bet this is just gonna make her hate me more.

Instead, to my surprise, she clears her throat and begins speaking with an easy confidence.

“Uh well, way to throw us under the bus Curt,” she jokes, immediately making everyone chuckle, including me. “Guess I know what kinda season this is about to be.” Another round of laughs around the table giving her time to scratch the back of her neck as she thinks. With a slight smirk on her face she continues.

“This is a big moment for me. I grew up with the sport, already knew I had a chance to go pro when I was eight. I’ve been waiting for a while to get to the league and to finally be here… It’s surreal. I feel really blessed, really grateful,” she says looking at her plate and then letting out a sly, quiet laugh. “Crazy that I’m drinking with the coaching staff right there, I’m so used to having to hide it.”

I chuckle with the rest of the group. There’s something about her, a smoothness, a charm that makes it impossible not to like her. Even improvising like this she seems completely in control, like she knows she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. It’s impressive. I can’t look away.

“Geno didn’t let you drink?” Curt asks lightheartedly, making Paige’s blue eyes widen.

“He would’ve put belt to ass, lemme just say that.”

More laughter. Paige looks around meeting my gaze.

“Zari, I know you got that cold right? So maybe I should just speak for you so you have a voice tomorrow?”

Huh? I furrow my brows looking at her confused, but her eyes won’t budge, boring into mine. And then I realise. She’s trying to let me off the hook.

“Yes please,” I smile back, looking down to my lap. Something about the way she did that all for me, picked up on my nerves, found a way to get me out of it, was making my insides flip. You wouldn’t do that for someone you hate I suppose.

“I gotchu,” Paige grins, looking back to everyone around the table. “I think we’re both just really grateful for the opportunity and really excited for the season. Anyway, thanks guys.” 

Everyone claps and I do too, my heart warming at the way Paige Bueckers had just saved me. 

“Wait, you're sick?” Trey whispers. 

“Uh, a little.”

-

“Hope you feel better Zari!” Ava says as I wave bye, walking towards the exit.

“Thanks guys, I’m sure I will,” I say, knowing I felt just fine. Great even, after a few glasses of wine. As I step out into the evening, I hold my fur coat in my hands, too hot to put it on. To my surprise I see Paige standing right outside the restaurant, scrolling on her phone. Interrupted by the tapping of my heels, she lifts her gaze, the intensity of her blue eyes surprising.

“Hey,” she smiles, avoiding looking at my face again. She was really giving me mixed signals.

“Hi there,” I say, walking closer. “Thanks for rescuing me earlier.”

She looks at the parking lot, a sly smirk spreading across her face.

“Nah, you’re good,” the blonde grins, diamond studs in her ears sparkling. “Not a fan of speeches?”

I shrug, taking that as an invite for conversation. “No I can certainly be… If you give me approximately two weeks to prepare. Minimum.”

Paige chuckles, nodding to herself. “You’re that kinda girl huh?”

“Desperately so.”

She shifts on her feet, looking for something to say.

“That’s a good trait to have, I try to plan too but usually doesn’t last for longer than a week or two,” she explains. I nod knowingly.

“My brother’s a bit like that,” I sigh. I was already missing him.

Paige turns to me, looking for my gaze.

“You got a brother?”

I nod, “Yeah, he’s younger. Your age.”

She’s taken aback. “Hollup how old are you?”

“Turned 25 last month.”

“Damn,” she says before thinking. I scoff, my eyes widening, though finding amusement in her reaction

”Are you calling me old?” I ask with a serious tone, her face immediately going bright red. 

”No, no no, not at all. You look… great.  Amazing, and like. That’s not even old, I'm just trippin’. I just assumed you were my age but like a year is nothin-” she rambles, tripping over her words.

”Paige I’m taking the piss,” I laugh. She stops, looking at me confused.

”You’re what?”

Oh right, Americans. ”I’m joking around.”

She laughs. ”Taking the piss?”

I laugh too, the air immediately easing between us.

”I’mma start using that,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me. 

”You’re welcome,” I grin.

She scoffs. ”I didn’t say thank you.”

”You should,” I demand, more seriously, meeting her blue eyes. She immediately folds, blinking her long lashes.

”Thank you.”

I suddenly feel hot, warmth rising to my cheeks. I quickly look back to the ground, the intensity of her gaze too much right now.

”Hey, uh… I think we live in the same building,” she murmurs, watching the sky. Shit, she had recognised me, of course.

”Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you. I really should have,” I quickly explain, feeling a little abashed but trying not to let it show.

”No, I just meant, I ordered an Uber. You need a ride?”

Oh. So she wasn’t mad. She was offering me a ride.

”I’d love one. Are you sure?”

”Totally,” Paige answers, smiling at me softly. She fans her own face, trying to find any relief for the heat. 

”Shit it’s hot,” the blonde groans. ”Do you mind if I take this off? I got a shirt underneath.”

”Oh, no go ahead darling,” I tell her.

With a sigh, Paige’s hands grip the back of her green sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. As she does my eyes can’t help it, flickering over her lower abdomen where both shirts have hiked up, showing a sliver of pale skin and black boxers peeking out of her shorts. Something about it makes my throat go dry. I’m not exactly sure what. The feeling almost unfamiliar to me. 

”That’s so much better,” Paige groans with relief, fixing the white oversized button up, chains resting against her chest. I feel my ears growing hot, quickly averting her gaze.

-

She’s not horrible, on top of being gorgeous she’s fucking great - funny, sweet, charismatic. Would be so much easier if Zari was an asshole like I had hoped earlier. I could feel butterflies in my stomach every time she looked at me. That familiar warmth that I knew too well.

We walk to the Uber together, and I make sure I open the door for her - I didn’t know her that well, but I could tell she was classy. On a whole different level than me. 

I climb in after her, unbuttoning more of my shirt for some airflow. For a second I think I catch her staring, but I knew it was unlikely. She was definitely giving me straight girl vibes. Of course my stupid ass was ogling after a straight girl - nothing new to me. My eyes immediately land on her thighs, her legs crossed and pressing together as she sits next to me. Okay, get a grip Paige.

”So… How you liking Dallas?” I ask, unable to take the silence in the car. 

”I haven’t seen much of it, just moved the other day,” she answers, her voice low but smooth, I could’ve listened to her talk all night. ”It’s very humid.”

”Damn that jetlag gotta be hitting hard huh?” I ask, looking at her.

”I look tired?” She asks, offended. An immediate panic takes over, my hands gripping the sweater in my hands. Shit.

”No you look fucking great. I would’ve never th-”

”Paige. I’m joking.”

Oh. I let out a sigh of relief, chuckling awkwardly. I look out the window, shaking my head at myself. I really needed to chill.

”Taking the piss?”

She lets out a loud, bright laugh, grabbing my forearm. The gold rings on her digits sparkle as her long, manicured nails dig into the white shirt. Immediate goosebumps rising underneath on my skin tell me I’m completely fucked.

“Exactly!” She gleams, her smile wide. “You did so good.”

That. I need to hear her say that again. I clear my throat to interrupt the bad thoughts, feeling Zari’s hand move off me, skin tingling as the weight of her touch lifts.

We pull up to our apartment building, both of us climbing out.

“I can transfer you some money for the ride,” Zari suggests as I let her into the building, eyes falling on her ass just for a second. Okay, no. Look away.

“No, Ion need you to,” I tell her sternly as we begin to climb up the flights of steps, her heels tapping against the tile of the floor. The sound echoes off the walls until we stop by her front door, silence draping over us, making me painfully aware of the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

“Well,” Zari smiles, turning to me, her green eyes even more prominent with the dark makeup surrounding them. Only then I notice how catlike they are, sharp and alert. Challenging almost.

I wanna say something smart, something witty. Something to make her laugh, or blush. I’m rummaging through my brain for anything coherent at least.

“I’ll see you at work,” she says, opening her door. I was running out of time.

“You’ll know where to find me,” I stupidly let out. Zari turns to look at me one more time and nods.

“Don’t stomp too loud please.”

With that she gets in, leaving me there with nothing to do but blink at the closed door and notice the flutters around my stomach. Rubbing my jaw, I slowly climb up one more flight of stairs, mind spinning around the girl. Completely, utterly out of my league. It only made me want her more.

-

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