#I’m giving you a timeout from me :^) for now

[cheekylittlepupp]

He justs wants a little bit of blood..

[lemonlover1110]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You're too sweet to Megumi and it drives Toji insane.

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Gagging

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Can we eat the cookies now?” Megumi looks up at you with hopeful eyes, and you smile at him before humming in response. Though Toji prohibited you from giving Megumi a cookie before dinner, you can’t say no to the sweet boy.

You think you’re being sneaky, watching out for Toji before giving him the cookie. Megumi’s eyes light up, and he snatches the treat from your hand. You ruffle his hair, a laugh leaving your lips before offering, “Do you want some milk too, honey?”

“Please.” He responds, and you can’t help but smile at him. If Toji were to catch you doing this to Megumi, he’d get so mad at you. You do understand, after all, you are breaking Toji’s rules.

You can’t help it though. Who wouldn’t be weak if the cutest little boy asked for cookies? Toji’s passed out on the couch anyway, it’s not like he’ll find out. It’ll look odd when Megumi barely touches his dinner, but lying is the easy part.

“You can’t tell your daddy, okay?” You tell Megumi, giving him the glass of milk that you offered. He nods in response, though it’ll definitely slip later. Megumi just has to eat the cookie fast enough before the old man wakes up–

Even though you haven’t heard him yet, he’s watching you. Toji has soft eyes as he sees you treat Megumi so sweetly, and how Megumi isn’t scared to ask anything from you. It’s partially because you spoil him, so maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised that Megumi goes to you for anything.

“Don’t tell me what?” He clears his throat, and your ears get hot, knowing that you’ve been caught red-handed. You hide your hands behind you as if you were a child, even when you have nothing in your hands to hide.

“Nothin’.” You try to play it off as if Megumi isn’t holding the cookie and a glass of milk. Toji rolls his eyes, going over to Megumi and taking the cookie from his hands. He shoves the cookie into his mouth, and it makes Megumi’s bottom lip quiver.

“I said no cookies before dinner.” Toji’s words are barely comprehensible since his mouth is full. Megumi lets out a cry, running to you and hugging you. He looks for comfort in you since his evil daddy stole his cookie and ate it.

You kneel down and hug Megumi, kissing the top of his head. Toji crosses his arms and rolls his eyes at the sight. His heart flutters though, and while he knows that he loves you and wants a future with you, right now he’s thinking he wants more. He has the want of something more, and he doesn’t want to wait until however soon the future is.

“I’ll give you two cookies after dinner, Megumi. Your dad is such a meanie.” Your hand runs up and down Megumi’s back, attempting to comfort him. Your words of reassurance help, 

“He’s getting no cookies, and you’re on timeout too.” He tells you after he swallows the food in his mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“Toji, I’m a grown woman.” You remind him, and he sticks his tongue out at you.

“No more cookies tonight, and that’s final.” Toji makes it clear before walking away, leaving you to soothe his crying boy.

What you don’t know is that Toji isn’t mad, he’s just thinking about how you make such a great mother… His thoughts embarrass him because they’re filthier than he’d like to admit.

After putting Megumi to bed, Toji claims that he’s going to have a serious conversation with you. You’re reasonably scared at what he has to say, knowing that you’ve overstepped your boundaries. It takes you by surprise that when you get to the bedroom he locks the door before he engulfs you with kisses.

Is this the punishment Toji was talking about?

Before you know it, Toji is between your legs. His tongue runs through your folds while he pumps two fingers into your cunt. You’re biting down your lip as Toji makes you feel so good. You have to be especially quiet tonight, but you know he’s going to make the task unnecessarily difficult.

His tongue begins to flick your clit, and your chest gets heavier and heavier with every breath you take. The effect he has on you is pathetic, though you certainly don’t mind when he makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“Toji…” You’re as quiet as you can be when he curves his fingers so they hit just the spot. Your lips are parted as the lowest moans leave your lips. He’s doing everything in his power to turn you into putty. “It’s so good, Toji. Fuck–”

Your thighs are squeezing his head, getting too lost in your own pleasure to care. Toji doesn’t care too much either; if this is the way that Toji dies, then he sure was a happy man during his lifetime. This is the way he wants to go, after eating his favorite meal one last time.

You’d think that after breaking his rules Toji would be mad, but this is the way he punishes you? You’re almost seeing white as pleasure consumes your body, if this is the way that Toji is going to treat you when you go against his wishes then you’ll misbehave more often.

You’re moaning his name, getting louder by the second. It’s such a sweet sound to his ears, but he can’t risk you being too loud. He takes his fingers out, flicking your clit a couple of times before rising from between your legs. There’s a taunting smirk on his lips when he stands up from the floor.

“My sweet baby, you can’t be too loud.” He warns you, his hand going under your chin and lifting your face so you have to look up at him. You bite down your lip as you nod in response. You watch him take off his shirt and pants before reaching into his drawer for the bottle of lube. 

He grabs your legs, putting them over his shoulders before coating his cock with lube. He kisses your ankle as he slowly strokes his cock, making sure to tell you, “You’re so perfect, baby.”

“I need you so bad, Toji.” You sound needy. Your pussy is clenching over nothing, needing him inside of you badly. You have no idea what came over him all of a sudden, dragging you into the bedroom and putting you on the bed– You just know that you love this.

“Beg for it, baby. Use your voice.” Toji tells you, and you roll your eyes. He’s so complicated sometimes, but you’ll give in.

“Please give me your cock, Toji. Fill me up, please please please.” You’re whiny, making sure he hears what he wants to hear. He can’t help but chuckle as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds.

“I’m gonna put it in then, is that okay, baby?” He says as he pushes the tip of his cock into you. He stretches you out, and gives you a moment to adjust when he bottoms out. His hands are holding onto your thighs, nails digging into the supple skin as he praises you, “You feel so good around me, baby.”

“Can you move, Toji?” You have to ask him, and he begins to thrust. His movements start off slow, but they’re enough to leave you breathless.

Toji is utterly in love with the sight in front of him, something which confirms his earlier thoughts. Everything you do drives him insane, even when you’re just mindlessly moaning in his bed– In your defense, you’re doing a little bit more than that. He’s groaning with the way that your pussy wraps around his cock. No matter how many times he fucks you, he’ll never get bored of the feeling. 

Two of his fingers go into your mouth, reaching far back and making you gag. He reprimands you, “I told you not to be too loud.”

His other hand goes to play with your clit, and he senses just how good that makes you feel. It’s a good thing his fingers stop you from being too loud, he doesn’t need a brat coming in and ruining his fun. Though he does say, “You want me to make you a mama?”

Your eyes go wide but you clench around him, which is all the answer he needs. “I’ll give you one of your own, baby. Don’t you wanna have my baby?”

You shut your eyes, and hum in response to his question. You should not be even more turned on by his proposal. Megumi is more than enough right at this moment, but just the thought of having his baby drives you wild. 

“I’ll give you your own, baby. I’ll get you pregnant.” Toji watches as pleasure consumes you and you reach your climax. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, grabbing your hand and putting it in place of his fingers. 

He picks up more speed, the idea of knocking you up driving him insane as well. He’s been thinking about it all night, you’d just make the sweetest mother to his kids. It’s not just sex talk, Toji is dead serious about this.

“Gonna come inside, okay? I’m gonna fill you up.” He tells you as his movements become sloppy. You’re frantically nodding, nearly coming again at the mere thought of him stuffing you with his cum. 

He groans, throwing his head back as he cums inside of you. When he pulls out, Toji lays down next to you. With heavy breathing, two fingers go down to your cunt, pushing his cum back into you.

“You’re actually serious?” You ask him, and he hums in response. You grab his hand and bring his fingers to your lips, rolling your tongue around them. A string of saliva connects your lips with his fingers when you pull them out of your mouth. You proceed to kiss his lips before telling him, “That won’t help.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” He responds, and you chuckle.

“What came over you, anyway?” You question, and a smirk comes to his lips. He shakes his head, refusing to tell you.

He won’t let you know that seeing how great you are with kids, specifically with Megumi, makes him want to get you pregnant.

[everrinsly]

a/n; somehow, i always imagine the boys being very flirty as they grow up hahah

a momager and her silly olympic team vibes.

the weirdo quick and the real mvp. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more olympic team shenanigans here!

more reads!

~~~~~

Even though the boys were all grown (late twenties now, by the way), you were absolutely appalled at how they still bickered like children mid-match. At the Olympics of all major events—

“Oi! Kageyama! Stop setting like you're mad at me or something!” Hinata snapped, slapping the ball down with a little too much force... right into the net.

On the other side of the court, France's setter stifled a laugh that was immediately shot down by Suna—still holding his signature pose, arms raised, hands in front of his face. His green eyes were narrowed, glinting with a lethal glare.

Kageyama scowled. “I’m not mad! You’re the one who’s late to the spike!"

“You’re the one who keeps shifting your timing!”

“Maybe because your fucking brain’s five steps behind your feet—!”

"Or maybe it's you that can't fucking count—!"

"I was calculating optimal trajectory—"

"Optimal trajectory my ass!"

"You fucking trained on sand—and you're still shitty—"

"WHA—the fuck did you just say?!"

Atsumu sucked his teeth on the sidelines. “Well, shit... here we go again.”

Komori leaned over from his libero crouch and whispered to Sakusa in the back row. “Three guesses who’s gonna fix it.”

Bokuto perked up, hands on his hips, watching the freak duo fight (just like he and Kuroo used to do back in high school). “Wait for it…”

From the bench, Iwaizumi had given up. Clipboard on the the floor. Coach was nearly hiding away in shame, muttering something to the assistant coach. Probably (most definitely) adding in an extra training schedule.

The referee on the court had already dropped the whistle from his lips, sighing like he can't be bothered because Team Japan was the root cause of all his problems.

And the jumbotrons?

The jumbotrons caught everything. The camera crew were having the time of their lives, recording the meltdown of Team Japan.

—So that’s when you stood up from your seat near the bench, clipboard in hand, eyes soft and kind.

As you jogged onto the court during a much-needed timeout call, Sakusa muttered under his breath, “And there she goes. The real MVP comes to the rescue.”

“Bet three curry buns she fixes it in less than twenty seconds,” Iwaizumi said, arms crossed, clearly already counting down.

When you reached Hinata and Kageyama, you gently pressed a hand on each of their shoulders. Slightly damp with sweat, but you didn't care. Not when you've took care of them since high school, at their very worst to their very best.

“Hey,” you voiced, all warm and calm. “What’s going on?”

Hinata looked down at you and pouted. Literally pouted. “He’s not syncing with me.”

Kageyama huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m syncing. He’s just zigzagging like a squirrel... on fucking caffeine.”

You fought a laugh. “Okay, but think about how far you’ve come. You two read each other like a book now, right? You’ve done this dance a hundred times. You’ve already got the rhythm—you just need to trust each other again.”

Their gazes softened slightly.

You smiled, giving Hinata a playful nudge. "Remember? You used to hit Kageyama's sets with your eyes closed, Sunshine."

You turned slightly to face Kageyama and patted his chest. "And you... make sure you imagine the spiker. Not just send it high and far, okay?

You leaned up to wipe some beads of sweat off each of their foreheads with your sleeve.

“Besides,” you added, “I kind of love when you pull that sneaky slide attack, so don’t make me sad, okay?”

Hinata smirked, a cute little tilt of his lips. "I can do that, sweets!”

Kageyama adjusted his uniform collar and ran a hand through his hair, grumbling, “Fine fine. I’ll fix my toss for your slide... you just stop looking at me like that.”

“Hmm... like what?” you asked innocently.

“Like that,” he murmured.

But before you could even respond, he stomped back to the net.

(They were just as adorable now as they were back in high school).

As you trotted off the court, Suna was staring at you with a deadpan look. “Must be nice having a buffoonish-ass love language.”

You giggled softly, teasing. "Wouldn't call it buffoonish if it works, Rin. Are you just jealous?"

“Hm. Maybe,” he hummed.

Atsumu let out an exaggerated groan. “Can we get a team-wide policy? No cute manager pep talks unless we all get one.”

“You want me to pat your head too, 'Tsumu?” you said sweetly, grabbing a towel and handing it to Ushijima.

Atsumu opened his mouth, then paused, a flirty smile adorning his lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no, sweetheart.”

Bokuto leaned over, buffing his chest out. “Can you pat me like how you patted Kageyama?”

“You smiled at Hinata like he invented the sun,” Sakusa added with a small scowl.

Ushijima blinked. “It was motivational. Very effective.”

“Uh-huh, damn miracle worker,” Iwaizumi muttered from behind you, voice low. "An how about you all stop crowding her now. You've still got a game to play."

Your face heated, and suddenly the entire bench was smirking.

Except for Komori, who cheerfully handed you his water bottle. “You handled that really well.”

You gave him a grateful smile, laughing softly. “Thanks, 'Toya... finally someone who's a little more gown-up than the rest of you all.”

And then, Suna appeared from behind, lips brushing close to your ear as he whispered, “For the record, if you ever wanna motivate me like that, I promise ten kill blocks every set.”

“Same,” Atsumu grinned.

"You're a setter, dumbass."

"I CAN BLOCK—"

"Nah, your timing's shit—even if I count for you."

"Oh fuck you—"

“Me too, by the way!” Hinata shouted from the court, already back in position and totally recovered. “I’d fail just to get my sweat wiped with your sleeve again!”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warm but heart fluttering.

“How about you all just get back out there and win,” you called, voice firm but fond.

They chorused a 'yes'—some louder, some flirter, some absolutely pretending they weren’t jealous as hell.

And as the whistle blew again and the ball flew up, Kageyama and Hinata moved in perfect sync, slamming down the point so fast it shut the opposing blockers down cold.

“Told you. Real MVP.”

[beaureveries]

ONE SHOT : HANDS OFF

paige x azzi

this is the prompt idea

Trigger : protective P

super short!

——————————————————————————

It started in the first quarter.

Paige caught it from the bench during a timeout — a couple fans creeping close to the sideline, politely asking Azzi for a picture. Azzi smiled, nodded, took a few quick ones, then sat back down.

Nothing weird. Nothing Paige hadn’t seen before. Everyone knew they were best friends. Azzi was recognizable in women’s hoops circles, especially here. No big deal.

By halftime, though, it was happening again. And again. And again.

Different people. Different phones. Azzi still smiling, but Paige could tell — the smiles were starting to wear thin. Not because Azzi didn’t like meeting people. Just… long game. Bright lights. Media breaks dragging on forever. Paige knew the look of someone being good about it but getting tired.

By the time the fourth quarter came around, Paige was already watching the edge of the crowd more than she was watching the court. Not distracted, not reckless. Just monitoring. Quietly clocking how Azzi’s posture shifted a little lower every time another stranger leaned in, angling their phone like they didn’t realize they were practically in her lap.

Paige let it slide. For a while.

They were in public. Cameras everywhere. It was fine.

But after the final buzzer, with Dallas taking the win and fans buzzing all over the lower bowl, she saw Azzi hesitate when another group circled around. Saw the small flinch when one guy bumped into her a little too hard while adjusting his jersey sleeve to take a picture.

That was enough.

Paige caught the eye of one of the arena’s event security on her way off the court, nodded subtly toward the gathering group, her jaw set. “Can you help manage that? She’s been great about it, but I don’t want it to get messy.”

The security guy nodded immediately, already weaving that way with a calm, professional ease.

Still, Paige’s steps angled naturally toward Azzi’s spot, like muscle memory.

By the time she reached her, Azzi was still smiling, still good, but Paige caught the shift in her eyes the moment they locked.

Relief. Not rescue. Just… finally.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice low, like this was just a regular conversation between teammates.

Azzi hesitated half a beat too long before she nodded. “Yeah. Just—crowd’s a little much.”

Paige didn’t push yet. Just stood closer, like a quiet shield, not in a way anyone else would notice.

When the group finally started thinning out with help from security, Paige waited until they were alone, then leaned in, voice even lower now. “You didn’t tell me someone shoved you.”

Azzi winced, just barely. “It wasn’t, like, a thing. I just got nudged. I’m fine.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her. Looked through that easy smile Azzi always wore when she didn’t want anyone worrying about her.

“You don’t gotta play tough with me,” Paige said finally, her voice soft but steady. “I know what ‘fine’ looks like on you. That’s not it.”

Azzi glanced down, thumb brushing over the seam of her sleeve. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe not to you.” Paige shifted her weight, folding her arms. “But it’s a big deal to me.”

That made Azzi pause, just for a second.

“I’m serious,” Paige added, quieter now, leaning just close enough that only Azzi could hear. “You don’t deserve to be shoved around by people who don’t know how to act. I don’t care if they’re excited or whatever. They don’t get to forget you’re a person.”

Azzi’s throat bobbed like she wanted to argue, but didn’t.

“And I know you can handle it,” Paige kept going, softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Azzi sighed, finally cracking a small, real smile. “You always gotta do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say stuff that makes me melt in public?”

Paige shrugged, biting down her own smile. “Can’t help it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, fond, like she was fighting not to give in all the way. “I’m good. Really. Just… maybe next time we keep the postgame selfies to, like, a reasonable number.”

Paige huffed a laugh. “Deal. And if not—security detail. I’m not kidding.”

“Security, huh?” Azzi teased, leaning a little closer now. “Big spender.”

“Whatever it takes.”

Azzi watched her for a beat, warmth behind her eyes now, soft and steady. “You’re kinda sweet when you’re mad.”

Paige smirked. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe.”

The crowd was thinning. The cameras were pointed elsewhere now. Just the two of them, standing there like they always did — close enough to give it away, but not quite yet.

And Paige stayed right there, steady, until Azzi was ready to go back home with her.

[demie90s]

Hey girlypop got anotha request 🙂‍↔️ juju x reader where theyre “private but not secret” like everyone has speculation but they have eachothers jerseys numbers stitched into their jerseys very small but still visible. And while they have two games against ucla and at the first game kiki rice starts to flirt with the reader and juju give her dirty looks and you can tell she dont like it and the reader rejects kiki and at the second game kiki is mad and fouls the reader hard and juju is mad and gets all in her face and tells her if she touches her again shes gonna make sure they both get taken out the game and mentions the reader being her girl and the crowd goes crazy and the media goes crazy over them

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴜᴘ

ᴊᴜᴊᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴋɪɴꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: the relationship ain’t secret, just sacred. and juju? she’s tired of being subtle.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: game violence, jealousy, tension, light cursing

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.4k

People always ask why I don’t post her.

Why I don’t wear her chains, why she don’t comment on my pics, why we don’t feed into it.

But they never look close enough.

Never see the tiny gold “12” stitched in my jersey hem. Or how hers has a little “05” tucked right by the seam.

They never see how she always finds me after the game, win or lose, sweaty or not, and presses her forehead to mine. Quiet. Close. Just us.

Private, not secret. And she likes it that way—until UCLA.

The moment we walk into Galen Center for Game 1, I feel it. Kiki’s eyes. She’s been on weird timing since warmups.

Whole first half she’s following me like she trying to match my steps. Talking slick under her breath. Laughing a little too hard when I miss a three.

And Juju? She’s calm. Arms crossed on the bench, legs spread, chewing gum like she’s plotting. That “I’m watching you” type chill.

It gets bolder second half. I’m walking off the court, wiping sweat with my towel, and Kiki slides up next to me like it’s nothing.

“Number five,” she smirks, “you always look this good after dropping six points, or am I special?”

I raise a brow. “You got jokes now?”

“I got eyes,” she says, licking her lips. “Tell your little secret admirer to stop staring and come introduce herself.”

I glance toward the bench. Juju’s still locked in—except now she’s not even pretending to hide it. Head tilted. Jaw tight. I can feel her mood shift from across the court.

“Keep it cute,” I say, stepping back. “Ain’t nothing secret about that girl watching me. And I’m not interested.”

Kiki’s smile drops.

Fast forward. Game 2. UCLA’s court. It’s louder. Tenser. Everybody noticed last time. Now they waiting.

I’m cooking. Dropped 10 in the first. And that’s when Kiki comes back for round two, only this time—she ain’t flirting.

She fouls me hard mid-drive. Whole body check. I hit the floor rough. Crowd gasps. My elbow’s burning.

Before I even push myself up, I hear it.

“Back the hell up.”

Juju’s already stormed over. Didn’t wait for the ref. Didn’t wait for the timeout.

“You got a problem, Kiki?” she barks, chest-to-chest. “You mad she curved you? Thought being petty was gonna fix it?”

Kiki rolls her eyes. “Play ball, Juju.”

“Nah, you better play smart. Touch her again, I’ll make sure we both get ejected. I don’t care. That’s my girl—you not.”

The gym erupts. Cameras flash. Phones up. Bench players holding each other back. Even the ref’s frozen.

Me? I’m still on the ground like damn. That’s my girl.

Juju doesn’t even wait for a response—she turns, walks straight to me, and offers her hand.

I take it. She pulls me close. Fixes my jersey like I didn’t just get body slammed.

“Tell ‘em again,” I whisper.

She smiles, low and lethal. “I’ll tell the whole damn world.”

And just like that—our private became public. But baby, it was never secret.

The moment we step off the court, reporters start foaming at the mouth.

“Juju, was that a declaration?”

“Are y’all together?”

“Did you say your girl?”

She just smirks, towel over her shoulder, ignoring everybody like she didn’t just almost fight a top recruit on national TV. Meanwhile, I’m limping with an ice pack and a smile like it’s prom night.

In the tunnel, it’s quiet for a second—until Juju grabs my wrist, swings me into a corner by the wall, and plants her hand flat beside my head.

“You good?” she asks low, eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “You didn’t have to go that hard.”

Her jaw flexes. “She hit you. I told you—play with me all you want. But not with you.”

I laugh, leaning back against the wall. “You was ready to risk it all, huh?”

She hums. “I still might.”

And then she kisses me. Right there in the damn tunnel. Slow. Hands in my curls. Tongue sliding against mine like she ain’t got media waiting and fans screaming her name.

Private? Who?

We break apart when the team starts yelling down the hall. I pull back, still catching my breath.

“We just made every blog in the country.”

“Let ‘em post it,” she shrugs. “They was gon’ find out eventually.”

⸻

𝙏𝙞𝙠𝙏𝙤𝙠 - @thehooptea

🎥: “Y’ALL. JUJU WATKINS JUST TOLD KIKI RICE ‘THAT’S MY GIRL’ ON NATIONAL TV. USC x UCLA JUST TURNED INTO A SOAP OPERA.”

“the way she meant that with her whole chest omg”

“she’s always been obsessed with reader u can tell”

“Kiki fumbled before she even had a chance 😭”

⸻

Back in the locker room, everyone’s wild.

Phones blowing up. Girls replaying clips, mimicking her voice like “Touch her again—THAT’S MY GIRL” over and over.

I’m sitting on the bench, rubbing my knee when Juju walks over with her duffle in one hand and my leg in the other.

“Lemme see.”

“It’s just sore—”

“Lemme see,” she repeats, softer this time.

She props it up in her lap and starts massaging gentle circles into the muscle. Everyone watching. No shame. No hiding.

“You just gon’ act like you didn’t shut down the entire gym?” I tease.

She grins. “Just so they know.”

And in that moment—hand on my thigh, heart still racing, media still going feral—I realize something:

She never needed to post me. I’ve been hers. Loud and clear.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-Vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[alaiasole]

🏖️ welcome back to solè’s bar 🏖️

. tonight’s special: connie springer, a bottle of sunscreen, & a heatwave hiding under the cabana.

→ connie x black!reader | smut | modern au | beach day, sunscreen flirting, private tension, and a cabana with no rules

→ tags: oral(m+f),69,backshots,squirting,connie being so obsessed (as he should), dirty talk

⋆｡°✩₊˚๑⋆｡˚☀˚｡⋆๑˚₊✩°｡⋆

you’re standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of your bikini under your sheer little cover-up. it’s not even that serious, you tell yourself you’re just going to the beach. but when you catch a glimpse of your reflection again, yeah… it’s giving.

you don’t even hear connie come up behind you until you feel a sharp smack to your ass.

“damn,” he mutters behind you, voice low and eyes glued to your figure. “you look so good, mama.”

you smirk a little. “thank you.”

his hands slip around your waist, lips brushing your neck. “let’s stay home.”

“connie don’t start,” you warn, trying not to laugh.

“baby,” he groans playfully, mouth at your ear now. “just a little taste.”

you push his chest lightly. “i didn’t get dressed just to stay home. c’mon. let’s go.”

he sighs like you just ruined his whole plan but follows you out the door anyway, keys in hand.

the drive to the beach is easy, warm air rushing in through the cracked windows, music playing low while he rests a hand on your thigh at every red light. he looks over at you every now and then, biting his lip like you’re the only thing he sees.

once you get there, y’all find a good spot not too close to the water, not too crowded. just right. you both unload the car, spreading out the towels, setting up the umbrella, laying down the snacks and speakers. you’re already pulling out the sunscreen while connie’s trying to act like he doesn’t see it.

“come here,” you say, holding up the bottle.

he squints. “nah, i’m good.”

“connie,” you warn.

he laughs, already backing up. “i don’t need that—”

“boy, yes you do!” you chase him a little before catching his arm. “you’re not about to burn and then blame me.”

“fine,” he huffs, turning around and lifting his arms like you just put him in timeout.

you squeeze some sunscreen into your hand and start rubbing it across his shoulders, over the slope of his back. he pretends to complain, but you catch him smiling to himself.

as you finish up, you glance toward the edge of the beach and nod your chin at the row of little white cabanas tucked behind some dunes.

“we should get one of those later,” you say casually.

connie looks over, then back at you with a sly grin. “yeah… yeah, we should.”

you narrow your eyes at his tone.

“what?” he shrugs, reaching for the cooler. “i’m just agreeing with you.”

you roll your eyes, already knowing what’s going through his head. the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze lingers just a little too long on your thighs when you sit down… yeah. he’s plotting.

but for now, you let him play it cool. the sun’s warm, the music’s good, and you’re just getting started.

you squeeze some sunscreen into your hand, rubbing it gently into your arms and thighs before laying back on the towel. your cover-up slips off and you stretch a little, your body glistening under the sun.

“SHITTTT, YOU LOOK SO GOOD—I NEED THAT,” connie yells out of nowhere like he ain’t sitting right next to you.

you look up from your phone with the driest stare. “damn, why you yelling?”

“i just want people to know i got a beautiful ass girlfriend,” he shrugs, not even sorry. “like, i’m proud. you bad as hell.”

he drops beside you, grinning. “come on, let’s go in the water.”

you groan. “i’m lazy. help me.”

he laughs, already lifting you up like you weigh nothing. “say less.”

before you can say anything, he’s already picking you up with both arms, your legs kicking in the air as he walks you toward the waves.

“connie! do not throw me in there,” you warn, gripping onto his shoulders.

“i won’t,” he says, way too innocently. but the second you’re close to the shoreline, he starts acting like he’s about to launch you into the water.

“CONNIE—” you squeal, heart jumping.

he bursts out laughing at your scream, clearly way too entertained.

“it’s not funny,” you say, smacking his chest as he gently sets you down in the water.

“you were scared,” he grins. “you thought i was gon’ do it.”

you flick a little water at him, wading deeper in as the waves lap at your legs. the ocean’s cold at first, but your body adjusts fast with the sun still warm on your back. you splash around a little, dipping low and coming up with your curls dripping, the water sparkling on your skin.

connie stares for a second too long.

“what?” you ask, raising a brow.

he just shakes his head like he can’t believe you’re real. “you’re fine as fuck, bro.”

you roll your eyes again. “you say that every five minutes.”

“and i’ma keep sayin’ it,” he says, pulling you in by the waist. “’cause you are.”

the two of you just float there for a while, hands intertwined under the water. he keeps sneaking kisses your shoulder, your cheek, your neck until you threaten to dunk him if he doesn’t chill. he pretends to behave after that. pretends.

the water’s cool, the sky’s clear, and for a moment, everything feels soft and perfect. no loud thoughts, no real world, just the two of you and the sound of waves.

after swimming, drying off, and a lil more teasing from connie, you both decide to grab a bite.

you end up at a small restaurant right off the sand — salty breeze in your hair, the scent of seafood and grilled jerk chicken in the air. you eat slow, legs brushing under the table, connie doing the most with his fork and that lazy smirk, like everything you do turns him on.

and he’s staring.

not subtly either.

he’s been looking at you ever since y’all got up from the towel. from the way your swimsuit hugged your waist, to the little jiggle when you walked ahead of him. when you sat down, he damn near groaned. and now he’s still watching you eat like you’re the entrée.

you don’t say anything. just sip your drink and try not to look directly at him.

“why are you looking at me like that,” you mumble under your breath.

“like what?” he grins, tilting his head.

you roll your eyes. “like you ain’t seen me before.”

he shrugs. “you’re just so sexy”

you press your lips together. leave me alone, you think.

but you don’t mean it.

afterwards, bellies full and sun dipping lower, you both find a cabana to chill in. it’s tucked off to the side, half-hidden behind some palm trees not too big, not too small, but just private enough. the only one left, and connie snatches it like he paid for the whole beach.

you lay back on the bed with a soft sigh, letting your food digest. connie plops down next to you, but he’s way too energetic for someone who just ate a plate and a half. he’s shifting, fidgeting, looking around like he’s plotting something.

you ignore him. eyes closed, stomach full, the soft rustle of the waves lulling you into a little nap.

you don’t know how long you’re out for maybe twenty, thirty minutes but when you wake up, connie’s not beside you.

you sit up slow, eyes adjusting. “…connie?”

before you can really panic, he walks back in with two drinks in hand, shirt off, chain swinging. “here, baby. gotchu this frozen mango thing. it’s fire.”

“thank you.” you take it, sipping slow.

but he doesn’t sit down.

instead, you watch him walk to the front of the cabana and pull the curtain shut.

then the next one.

then the last.

you narrow your eyes. “why you doin all that?”

he looks over his shoulder, a wicked little grin on his face.

“baby… just chill.”

you already know what’s on his mind.

and the worst part?

you’re thinking about it too.

he kisses you soft at first slow, lips warm, his hand sliding behind your neck like he’s trying to savor you. like he’s been craving this for days and now that he has you, he’s not letting go.

but the second you kiss him back really kiss him it changes.

he groans low, like the taste of your mouth is too much. kisses you deeper. wetter. til your lipgloss is smeared and your breathing is all outta place. his palm cradles your jaw, thumb pressing gently at your throat as he lays you back against the bed.

his hands roam, tugging at the strings of your bikini. “lemme see all this shit. take it off, baby.”

you blink through the heat fogging up your mind, and he’s already working your top off, dropping it somewhere off the bed, his eyes glued to your chest like he’s hypnotized.

“fuck,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “you so bad.”

he helps you out of the rest, slow and greedy, fingers slipping beneath your bikini bottoms and then he stands, pulling his shorts and boxers off in one go, dick already half-hard and hanging heavy.

you stare.

“you been like this?” you ask, sitting up a little.

he smirks, climbing back onto the bed. “been hard since the beach, ma. you walkin’ around with all that ass out talkin’ bout sunscreen… i was fightin’ for my life.”

you laugh — but it turns to a gasp when he grabs your hips and kisses you again, rougher this time.

“mm,” he hums against your lips. “sit on my face.”

“…what?”

he licks his lips, eyes dark. “you heard me. sit.”

you hesitate just a second and he taps your thigh twice like he’s coaxing you. “don’t get shy now. be a good girl. lemme taste it.”

you crawl up slow, heat already throbbing between your legs. and he just lies back, arms behind his head, mouth slightly open like he’s ready for dinner eyes locked on your pussy like he’s been dreaming about this.

he grips your thighs and pulls you down no warning.

his tongue’s on you in seconds. flat and firm, licking a long stripe from your soaked entrance to your clit. and then again. and again. till your whole body jerks forward with a moan.

“fuck, connie—”

he groans against your pussy, loud and filthy, like he needed this. like he’s sick over it. he eats you like a man starved messy, unrelenting, licking and sucking like he’s trying to fuck you with his mouth alone.

his hands grab handfuls of your ass, spreading you wider, locking you down like you’re not allowed to move. his nose bumps your clit and the mess only gets wetter your slick dripping down his chin, his tongue working so fast and so deep it makes you whimper.

you try to cover your mouth.

but he sees it.

he growls, grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand away. “nah, baby. don’t do that. lemme hear you.”

you moan, thighs trembling as your hips grind against his face. and he loves it. tongue fucking into you, lips sucking your clit switching between both like he knows exactly how to wreck you.

and then you see it.

his dick. hard as fuck against his abs. twitching. leaking.

he’s been like this the whole time.

you reach down, wrap your hand around him, thick and warm and already pulsing. and he groans deep and strained when your lips wrap around the tip.

“fuuuckkk,” he groans, voice hoarse. “you gon’ suck it while i eat this pussy? goddamn. you tryna fuckin’ kill me?”

you hum around him, spit running down his shaft while your tongue swirls over the head. your throat gets sloppy, your hips ride faster, and now it’s just chaos.

your moans are tangled, your bodies are shaking, your orgasms crash like waves. he cums down your throat, moaning against your clit. you squirt on his face, twitching and gasping, trying to crawl away.

“nah, bring that ass here,” he mutters, voice still rough, eyes hooded. “i’m not done.”

“gon’ need you to turn over f’me,” he says, voice low. “wanna see that pretty arch.”

you flip, burying your face into the pillow, legs spreading just enough. he gets behind you, running his hand down your spine, then pressing his palm into the dip of your back.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “hold that.”

he drags his tip through your folds, slow, teasing, thick head bumping your clit. “listen to that shit,” he says, voice thick with lust. “already so fuckin’ messy for me.”

you whimper, hands fisting in the sheets. “please—”

“shhh. i gotchu.”

he slides in — slow at first, stretching you open, inch by inch. your back arches more, a strangled moan caught in your throat.

“that’s it,” he groans, bottoming out. “keep takin’ it. fuckkk, this pussy’s tight.”

his hips start moving, slow, deep strokes, each one sending a ripple through your body. he leans over your back, kisses your shoulder, licks your neck.

“you feel that?” he pants. “my dick hittin’ that spot every time?”

you gasp, nodding fast, already melting under him. “yes—yes, oh my god—”

his pace picks up, hips smacking into your ass, filthy wet sounds filling the air. your legs tremble, your toes curl, and he’s talking you through it the whole time.

“don’t run,” he growls, gripping your hips tighter. “you wanted this, right? come take all this dick, baby. come take it like a good girl.”

you moan, so loud he has to slap a hand over your mouth. “shhh,” he chuckles, “you tryna let the whole beach hear how good i’m fuckin’ you?”

he flips you over, doesn’t pull out. just keeps fucking deep, rough, steady. presses your thighs to your chest and watches his dick slide in and out, glistening with your cream.

“look at this messy fuckin’ pussy,” he mutters. “squeezin’ me so tight. bout to make me lose it.”

your head falls back, body arching.

“fuckkk, connie—i can’t—i’m—”

“yes you can. you can take it. come on, baby, make a mess. lemme see you squirt.”

your body jerks once, then twice and you gush. soaking his stomach, his thighs, the bed beneath you.

“goddamn,” he groans, still stroking through it, hips slapping into the puddle. “fuckin’ squirtin’ all over this dick. yeah… you needed this. needed me.”

he doesn’t stop. not even after you cum again, legs trembling, pussy clenching around him. he slows down, finally strokes deeper, sweeter, presses his forehead to yours.

“look at me,” he whispers. “you good?”

you nod. dazed. boneless.

he kisses your cheek, then pulls out, jerking his cock over your tummy ‘til he cums all over you thick ropes across your stomach, your thighs. he groans, head thrown back.

you both go still. silence, except your breathing.

and then—

you both look at the sheets.

“…ain’t no way,” you mumble, laughing.

“yo…” he breathes, grinning as he grabs a towel. “we ruined this bed.”

he wipes you off gentle, kisses your inner thighs, your lips, your forehead.

then tucks you into his chest, letting you rest in the chaos.

“you so fuckin’ fine,” he mutters.

you hum. “you always say that.”

“cause it’s always true.”

and soon, you’re both asleep tangled limbs, sticky skin, ocean waves crashing in the distance, and the cabana smelling like sex and sunscreen.

[letsnowtalk]

They Knew

Azzi Fudd x fem reader

The first time you saw Azzi Fudd, she was draining threes like she invented them. USA U16 training camp was intense — all energy, nerves, and silent competition — but even in the chaos, she was calm. Focused. Her shot so pure it didn’t seem real.

You? You were scrappy, overlooked, always playing like you had something to prove. But Azzi noticed you. Every time you dove for a loose ball or hit a clutch shot, she’d glance your way, almost like she was silently cheering.

That’s how it started — shared glances, little nods, and slowly, real conversations. Late-night hotel chats turned into laughter over dumb memes, stealing each other’s snacks, and sitting on the bus shoulder to shoulder, your headphones shared.

One night during a thunderstorm, she knocked on your door.

“I don’t like storms,” she whispered.

Without asking, you scooted over and let her crawl onto your bed. You held her hand under the blanket and let the silence speak. It wasn’t about the thunder. It was about feeling safe. And that night, something shifted between you — even if neither of you said it out loud.

⸻

You kept in touch over the years. Facetimes during high school tournaments. “Good luck” texts before big games. Reposting each other’s highlights. And always, the almost—almost flirting, almost saying what you both felt.

You watched her commit to UConn. Your chest tightened, but in a good way. A proud way.

Your senior year, you got the offer too. UConn. When they asked about roommate preferences, your fingers hesitated before typing one name.

Azzi.

You didn’t expect her to pick you back.

But she did.

⸻

Being roommates with Azzi was…comfortable. Easy. Familiar. She still wore oversized hoodies, still laughed with her nose scrunched, still looked at you like you were her favorite person.

But now you saw her every morning, every night. In soft pajamas, with her hair tied up and her glasses slipping down her nose. You ate cereal side-by-side. You studied on the floor. You danced in the kitchen when it was too quiet.

One snow day, you both built a blanket fort in your dorm just for fun.

Netflix playing. Lights dim. You both lay beneath the comforters, shoulders touching.

She looked at you and said, “I like you.”

Just like that.

And your whole world tilted in the best way.

“I’ve liked you since you held my hand during that storm,” you whispered back.

You kissed under the blankets, shy and giddy and smiling so much your cheeks hurt. It wasn’t perfect — you bumped noses and giggled — but it was yours.

And from that night on, you were hers.

⸻

At first, it was your little secret. But Paige figured it out within a week.

“I KNEW IT,” she shouted in the locker room after catching you wearing Azzi’s hoodie for the fourth day straight.

The rest of the team caught on fast. Nika smirked when you sat on Azzi’s lap after practice. Aaliyah winked when she spotted you sharing a smoothie on the bus.

But no one said a word outside the team. They were protective. Fiercely loyal.

When reporters asked about your chemistry on the court, Azzi would just smile and say, “She makes me better. Always has.”

And you? You kept all your love in the small things, whispered jokes during warmups, fingers linked beneath the bench towel, forehead kisses in the locker room hallway.

⸻

By your second year together, the fans started catching on.

Edits popped up on TikTok and Twitter. You in her jersey. Her glancing at you during timeouts. You tucking her hair behind her ear after an interview.

“Okay but Azzi and Y/N are giving soulmates 🫠”

“The way they LOOK at each other????? Bye I’m in love too.”

“If they’re not dating, I’ll eat my sneaker.”

You both saw the edits. You even had a shared folder labeled “us ❤️” for your favorites.

During one IG Live, Caroline accidentally streamed a moment where Azzi whispered, “You’re my favorite person in the world,” and you giggled, hiding in her hoodie sleeve.

The comments exploded.

“SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK OMG”

“They don’t even hide it anymore I’m crying”

“I’d sell my kidney for a soft launch”

Even the UConn social media team started posting more of you two — subtle but suggestive. A photo of you high-fiving, gazing at each other like no one else existed. A boomerang of your postgame hugs.

It wasn’t confirmation. But it wasn’t denial either.

⸻

By your senior year, you were home.

Four years of late-night walks. Four years of forehead kisses after big games. Four years of stolen glances and staying up just to exist in the same room.

No one really questioned it anymore.

At team events, you were inseparable. Azzi always saved you a seat, always grabbed you a plate, always tied your shoelace when it came undone.

And everyone—from Geno to the cafeteria lady—just smiled knowingly.

Fans made compilations. Edits. “Proof they’re dating” videos with Sherlock Holmes-level analysis.

You two laughed about it often.

One night, curled on the couch watching an edit that ended with “we already knew,” Azzi turned to you and said, “They’re right, you know.”

You raised a brow. “About what?”

She kissed your cheek. “Everyone already knows. They’re just waiting for us to say it.”

⸻

You were getting ready for an event — a WNBA media day you got invited to after a big March Madness run.

Your dress was simple but beautiful. Azzi was sitting on the bed, watching you with a look in her eyes that made your heart race.

“You look like the reason the sun comes up,” she said softly.

You rolled your eyes, flustered. “You’re ridiculous.”

But she was already up, walking toward you, hands smoothing down your dress, then resting on your waist.

“Can I post a picture?” she asked, pulling out her phone.

You blinked. “Of me?”

“Of us.”

Your heart skipped. “…Yeah.”

She took a mirror selfie — her in a hoodie and you in your dress, her chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, her phone covering part of your face.

She posted it with a simple caption.

“🖤 4 years later. still my favorite.”

You followed up ten minutes later with a picture of two pairs of sneakers — hers and yours — side by side under a shared locker.

“Always been on the same team.”

The internet broke.

“THE WAR IS OVER”

“WE WERE RIGHT”

“LOVE IS REAL”

“THEY BEEN TOGETHER THIS WHOLE TIME I KNEW ITTTT”

“Top 10 soft launches of ALL TIME 😭😭😭😭”

Teammates flooded your comments.

Nika: about damn time.

Paige: I’ve been holding this secret in for years. YEARS.

Aaliyah: world peace has been achieved.

Even Geno reposted it with a dad-joke caption.“Guess I really did build a dynasty.”

You and Azzi spent the night on the couch, phones buzzing nonstop, cuddled beneath the same blanket as always.

She kissed your forehead.

“You ready for the world to know?”

You smiled. “They already knew, babe.”

———

The minute Azzi’s post hit Instagram — the one with her arms wrapped around you, her chin on your shoulder, her caption soft and certain — the internet froze.

Ten minutes later, when you followed it up with your own post (the sneakers, the caption, “Always been on the same team”), the internet exploded.

People had been waiting years. Edits had been made. Threads written. TikToks analyzed down to facial expressions in blurry background live streams.

But now?

Now it was real.

⸻

Twitter was on fire.

“NO WAY THEY JUST SOFT LAUNCHED AFTER 4 YEARS”

“IVE BEEN SAYING THIS SINCE U16 I DESERVE A MEDAL”

“azzi fudd & y/n being together is literally the only news i care about today”

“THEY HAD US IN A 4 YEAR SLOW BURN. SHAKESPEARE COULD NEVER.”

One fan made a powerpoint titled:

“Proof they were soulmates since USA camp and we were just living in their love story”

Another pulled clips of every time y’all were caught saying cute stuff during teammate IG Lives:

• “Don’t forget your water, baby.”

• “I like when you wear your hair like that.”

• “That’s mine. She’s mine.”

Someone tweeted a screenshot with the caption:

“Can we just talk about the time they thought we couldn’t HEAR THEM???”

You were trending within the hour.

#AzziAndY/N, #WeBeenKnew, #SoftLaunchRoyalty

⸻

People weren’t just making edits anymore. They were making mini-movies.

One TikTok used a Lana Del Rey song and spliced together clips from:

• USA U16 photos with you two grinning at each other

• UConn highlights where Azzi pointed to you after a three (and you were always there)

• The time you hugged her after a loss and she buried her face in your neck

• And finally… the soft launch pic.

Caption:

“we grew up watching them fall in love 😭”

500k likes in a day.

Even WNBA TikTok got involved. The league reposted your pic with:

“Power couple unlocked.”

⸻

At media day, you and Azzi were seated next to each other during interviews — planned or not, no one knew — and the first question asked.

“Soooo… soft launch, huh?”

Azzi gave a small smile, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“We just stopped hiding something everyone already saw.”

The reporter grinned. “So you’re saying the fans were right this whole time?”

You shrugged, playing coy. “Let’s just say they’ve always had good instincts.”

That quote? It went viral too.

⸻

Meanwhile, your old UConn teammates were wreaking havoc.

Nika started selling fake “I KNEW FIRST” t-shirts.

Paige changed her IG bio.

“#1 supporter of Azzi & Y/N before it was cool.”

Aaliyah posted a photo of herself fake crying.

“they soft launched and I felt it in my chest. we were THERE when they first kissed y’all don’t even KNOW 😭😭😭”

Even Geno weighed in when asked.

“Those two? They’ve been playing like one heartbeat for years. I just waited for the day they’d let the world in.”

You cried reading that one.

⸻

You and Azzi went live the night after the soft launch — just a lowkey chill vibe in your shared apartment, hair up, sweats on, music playing.

And yet… 30,000 people tuned in.

The chat was pure chaos:

“KISS KISS KISS”

“Are y’all gonna start calling each other ‘wife’ soon or what”

“Blink if you’ve been secretly married this whole time”

Azzi was trying to be chill but you caught her blushing like crazy.

You leaned into her side, smirking. “They’re really invested.”

She looked into the camera, deadpan. “Because we’re their favorite rom-com.”

Cue a flood of hearts and comments.

“GET YOU A WOMAN WHO KNOWS SHE’S MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY”

Then you said, “Okay but who’s the golden retriever and who’s the black cat?”

Azzi raised her hand. “I’m definitely the golden retriever.”

“Facts,” you replied, before kissing her cheek on live.

The comment section imploded.

⸻

Your DMs were flooded — not just from fans, but other players.

Angel. “Finally 😩 y’all been soft dating in public since 2021.”

Caitlin. “Honestly iconic. Let the lesbians win for once.”

Flau’jae. “Y’ALL LITERALLY GAVE US THE LOVE STORY WE DESERVE 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽”

Juju. “I need y’all to officiate my future wedding idc.”

And fans sent letters. Art. Edits. One person made a comic of your love story and posted it panel by panel.

Another made fan merch — matching necklaces with “4ever teammates” engraved on each.

You wore yours under your jersey the next game.

⸻

You and Azzi kept living like you always had — soft, silly, and full of love.

But now, you didn’t have to hide it.

You held hands in tunnels. You kissed her before games. You danced together on court after wins.

At one presser, someone asked Azzi if she was still glad she posted the soft launch.

She smiled and said, “I’d post it again. Every day. Loving her’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

You, sitting beside her, grinned so wide your cheeks hurt.

You reached for her hand. She didn’t hesitate.

And outside the frame, thousands of fans whispered the same thing

“We already knew.”

~~~~~~

By the time the draft rolled around, you were both top picks. Different teams, different cities—but you made it work. You always had.

Your love wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

It was in the way she reached for your hand at airports. In how you wore her number under your sweats. In the “good morning” texts and the “come home soon” voice notes.

The world saw it now. But more importantly—you saw each other.

Every day.

Forever.

[hsunrry]

date night // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2k

warnings: smut18+, angst, praise, unprotected sex, creampie

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“you know how important this meeting was for me.” you said coldly from passenger seat. your arms were crossed over your chest. he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry, okay?” he apologised, his voice laced with frustration. “something came up, i couldn’t just drop this.”

“always the same, Harry.” you shook your head. his eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on defensive tone.

“and what’s that supposed to mean? that i can’t do anything right in your eyes?” he looked at you briefly before his eyes went back to the road.

“no, that’s there’s always an excuse.” you mumbled. your body language was closed off to him. “it’s just that i was reminding you about it for two months and you still were almost an hour late.”

“i heard you, okay?” his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “you reminded me every single day. but real life happens sometimes and i had to deal with something urgent. i promised i’d make it up to you.” he glanced over at you.

“what was that urgent then?” you asked. “what was that important?”

“my manager called, there was a…” he sighed. “problem with my upcoming tour schedule that only i could handle. it wasn’t something i could ignore or delegate.” he paused for a second. “look, i get that i messed up.” you bite inside of your cheek, looking out of the car window. his frustration boiled over when you gave him silent treatment. “you know what? you always do this.”

“do what?” you asked, not looking at him. he gestured broadly, his hand sweeping across the interior of the car.

“you always stay quiet. always keep everything bottle up inside. ant then you just… shut down. like a switch flipped and you’re no longer there.” his voice was low.

“because i’m frustrated, what am i supposed to do?” you asked coldly. his expression darkened.

“yell at me then! storm off! do something other than just sitting there looking pissed off!” he yelled, his knuckled white from gripping steering wheel so tightly.

“pull over.” without a word, he pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in parking mode.

“what now?” he turned to face you fully, his eyes blazing with frustration. you unbuckled your seatbelt, getting out of the car and going into the direction of the house. he quickly got out of the car as well, following you. “where do you think you’re going?” he called after you, his voice laced with irritation. he quickened his pace to catch up to you.

“i’m going home myself.” you said, your arms crossed on your chest from anger and cold air. he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“walking home yourself? it’s a 15-minute drive, you’re not going anywhere!” he shouted, his face red in anger. “get back in the car!” he demanded, trying to tug you back towards the vehicle.

“no!” you snapped, feeling his arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting you up and bending you over his shoulder. “Harry!”

“if you’re not going to act like an adult about this, then i’ll treat you like a child. now be quiet, before i spank your ass.” he carried you to the car, talking through gritted teeth.

“you wouldn’t dare.” you mumbled. he smirked, giving your bottom hard smack, the sound echoing through the night air. he opened backseat doors, tossing you inside. he quickly gets to the driver’s seat, starting the car. he glanced at you in rearview mirror only to see you pouting back there.

“now, are you going to behave yourself or do i need to come back there and remind you who’s in charge?” he was gripping the steering wheel, ready to drive.

“fuck off.” you mumbled, watching him turning off the engine and walking out of the car. he sat in the backseat, pulling you astride his lap. “what are you doing?”

“i’m giving you a timeout, little one.” he placed his hands on your thighs, going up and down gently, almost soothingly. “now, can we talk normally?” you shrugged at his words. his hands slid up higher on your thighs as he held your gaze intensively. “i miss you when you’re like this.” he admitted softly, one hand moving up to cup your cheek. “i miss hearing your voice, seeing your smile…” he traced his thumb across your bottom lip.

“what are you expecting when i’m mad at you?” you asked, looking into his eyes this whole time. he sighed.

“for you to talk to me, not ignore me or mumble under your breath.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “for you to, i don’t know, yell at me, but not giving me silent treatment.”

“i’m just upset you were so late. you promised me you’ll be there no matter what. i was talking about this meeting for two months.” you said quietly. his expression softened with guilt.

“i know, love. i’m sorry i broke my promise.” he ran his hand through your hair. “this problem with schedule was last minute, but that’s not an excuse. i should have been there on time.” he leaned his forehead against yours. you closed your eyes, biting inside of your cheek. he knew it was a sign that you were very upset. he hated every second of it, he hated making you mad. “look at me, please.” he asked softly, his voice gentler with every word. when you opened your eyes to look at him, he noticed tears welling up in them and his heart sank at the sight. he gently wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes with his thumb. “baby…” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. you sniffed. he held you tighter against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. “don’t cry, please. you know i hate seeing you cry…” he kissed the top of your head, running soothing circles on your back. “i know i fucked up, i’m so sorry…” you nuzzled your face into his neck. his arms tightened around you when he felt your warm breath against his neck. after few seconds his hands moved to cup both sides of your face, tilting it up to look at him. “listen to me, i’m so fucking sorry.” his thumbs brushed away the remaining tears. you nodded quietly. his voice was gentle, but serious. “i need to know you forgive me. i don’t like when we’re not talking. it drives me mad, knowing you’re disappointed in me.” he stroked your hair, waiting for your response.

“it’s not that i’m disappointed in you, i’m just sad that you promised me to be there.” you said quietly. his expression was soft, but intense.

“i know… and that makes it worse. your sadness hurts more than anything else could. i fucked up something special to you…” he paused, his hands still tenderly framing your face. “i’m so sorry lovie, really.” you nodded again. he sighed, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours again. “tell me what to do to make this right.” his hands moved to your waist, holding you close.

“just be there next time.” you sighed quietly. he looked at you intently, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. he needed to know you were serious about giving him another chance to not mess up again.

“you can count on it. next time, i’ll be there early.” he nodded solemnly. you managed a quiet ‘okay’ in response. he watched you carefully, waiting for any sign that you were truly over this argument. he didn’t wanted to push his luck, but he also didn’t wanted you to be silently upset. he decided to test the waters a little. “you really not mad at me anymore?”

“i’m not.” you shook your head slightly. he raised his eyebrow sceptically, tilting his head to the side. he pulled you even closer.

“you sure? you’re not giving me the cold shoulder or anything?” he asked, searching your face for any hint of residual anger. you chuckled softly, shaking your head again. his face lit up with relief and joy as he heard your laugh. he pulled you into tight hug, burying his face in your neck. “i missed you.” he murmured, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw.

“mhm.” you hummed against his neck. he held you tightly, savouring the feeling. after a moment he pulled out slightly, to look at you.

“you know, i was thinking…” he started.

“about what?” he smiled softly at your question, his hands resting on your waist.

“about making it up to you.” he said, his eyes filled with determination. he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “starting with this.”

“i’m reminding you that we’re in the car.” you chuckled softly. he grinned, his hands moving to either side of your face.

“and i’m reminding you that we’re very much alone right now, with tinted windows.” his thumb gently stroked your cheek. when you smiled, he closed the distance between you two, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your lips. it was a sweet, tender kiss, filled with all the love and apology. “i’m sorry.” he whispered against your lips.

“mhm.” you hummed into his mouth, feeling his hands lifting your dress up, exposing your legs and ass. he deepened the kiss, his hands splayed out on your thighs. he broke the kiss to trial soft kisses on your neck. he unbuckled his belt with deft movements, his hands then moving to unzip his pants. he lifted his hips slightly to push it down along with his boxers, freeing himself. he looked up at you, his voice low and husky.

“come here, love.” you lifted your hips up, moving your panties to the side and lowering yourself at him. he let out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly. he leaned back in the seat, his eyes never leaving yours as you started to move. “fuck, you feel amazing.” he breathed, his hands guiding your hips as you rode him slowly. he leaned forward, claiming your mouth in another passionate kiss. “right there.” he moaned when you started to move faster, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. “that’s perfect…” he broke the kiss to pant, his head falling back against the headrest. his hands roamed up your stomach to your waist, his touch gentle yet

firm. “faster.” he urged, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “look at me, baby.” and you did, moving faster. his eyes locked with yours, dark with desire and love. his breath became ragged as he watched you move on top of him, his hands back on your hips. “beautiful.” he whispered, leaning forward to capture your lips in another intense kiss. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you gasped into the kiss. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he thrust up into you, the car rocking slightly with the motion. he swallowed your moans with his mouth, his heart racing in his chest. he felt himself getting close, his body tensing.

“i’m so close, baby.” he gasped into the kiss.

“me too.” you responded. he felt your body tense around him. he tightened his hold on you, one hand moving to tangle in your hair as he thrusts deeper. “you can’t come inside me, we don’t have anything to clean me up, i’ll suck you off.” his eyes darkened at your suggestion.

“no fucking way, baby, i’m filling this pussy up.” his cock twitched inside you. “i’ll clean you up with my mouth.” he grunted when you started moving faster, moaning at his words. his hips were moving erratically as he chased his release. he felt his orgasm building, his balls tightening. you cried out, clenching around him when you finished. “fuck, i’m coming!” he moaned, burying his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you with his hot seeds. he panted heavily, his body shaking with aftershocks. he pulled back to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “i love you.”

[littlelittlebear]

nervous young inhumans hunger games au

To survive the Games and get sponsors, you need to make yourself entertaining. No tribute has ever won the crowd by romancing their mentor before. Ellie Williams is an asshole, and the worst mentor you could ask for, but she’ll do.

series masterlist prev

femme!reader, butch!ellie, mentor!ellie, fake dating, enemies to lovers, slow burn to them, fastest burn in the west to everyone else. taking some characters from arcane because creative writing knows no bounds

2. warm warm warm (2.8k)

You and Ellie sat side by side on the massive leather couch, stiff as boards. Ellie’s knee was pressed up against yours, entirely unaffectionate. It was closer to the feeling of a table corner digging into your leg. Joel sat across from you, looking incredulous. A window behind him showed a flurry of infrastructure and factories as District One passed by.

“Y’all can’t be serious.” He said. Joel sat you both down first thing after breakfast to go over the plan, damn near forcing you to sit next to each other. The hostility had eased up slightly. You no longer felt the need to rip out Ellie’s ligaments. Now, you just felt plain uncomfortable. In fairness, Joel’s only instruction was ‘Alright, be in love.’ That didn’t give you much to work with. For once, you felt that you and Ellie had some sort of alliance– a team. Team Unwilling And Hating This But Doing It By Means Of Survival. The name’s a work in progress. “C’mon, you two, convince me.” Might as well take initiative, you thought. Sighing, your hand crept over to hers robotically, mouth crinkled in distaste.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Please, show some restraint.” She said dryly, before grabbing your hand with fervor, holding it tightly. Your breath hitched.

You didn’t expect her to be so warm. Her palm is rougher than you could’ve ever imagined. It dwarfed yours. Slowly, your fingers laced together, albeit quite robotically. Almost like it was contagious, you held it up and out from your bodies.

Beside Joel was Sam, who was let in on the plan. He lounged with his legs crossed, his brow rose. “You’re fucked.”

“I’m sorry! I’ve never had a girlfriend or done any of this before.” You admitted. Ellie looked at you suddenly, frowning ever so slightly.

“You’re a pretty girl, I would’ve thought you had, uh, girls all over you.” Asked Joel awkwardly. You’ve always known you liked girls, but sexuality and fussing over who to love was a rich people problem.

You shook your head. “Sure, boys– uhm, some boys have been interested, but I just let them down easy. No girls like that really talk to me.”

Sam chuckled softly. “‘Cuz you don’t look like it, silly. All the girls who like girls in Seven look like guys. Short hair, boy clothes.” He not-so-slyly eyed Ellie, who pursed her lips with a sardonic smile.

“That’s what you think.” You and Ellie said, simultaneously. Shocked, a moment passed with the two of you holding eyes. The corner of her lip rose. You didn’t push down your smile.

“Much better, guys.” Said Sam, smirking.

“Mhm, keep it up.” Added Joel.

At that, the two of you snapped your heads forward, shaking off the other’s hand, Joel groaned.

“No, y’all– you can’t be actin’ that way this week.” As if you were two toddlers in timeout, he sandwiched your palms back together. Ellie sighed and reclined over the backrest. Her neck stretched and bathed in the shadow cut by her jaw. You noticed the muscles decorating Ellie’s shoulders and arms, on full display in a black wife-beater. Her apparent muscles were always hidden in sleeves. In the depths of your mind, you wished she’d show them off more. You bit your lip unknowingly.

Ellie must have some sort of sixth sense fit for the devil, and she lolled her head to face you the second the plush of your bottom lip snagged on your canine tooth. Ellie caught the movement and maybe there was nothing else worth looking at, because she lingered there.

It felt like staring into the sun, watching her watch you– your lips. You blinked it out and promised yourself to keep your eyes on Joel. You’d been drowning out his ongoing lecture about your public behavior. When he mentioned “keeping up appearances”, you were knocked out of your stupor.

“Wait, what do you mean? I thought I was just going to mention her during interviews and she’d come up to hug me, or something.” You asked.

“What she said. What is the plan, Joel?” Ellie said, urgently.

He hesitated. “Alright, look. This ain’t gonna be an interview exclusive. The best stories from tributes give the Capitol content, moments, not just words.”

It clicked. “You’re not saying we’re supposed to be acting this way… all the time, are you?” Your interlinked hands had stopped flustering you, too nervous to care. Ellie didn’t let go, you noticed. She hadn’t protested against it either.

“Dammit. Yeah, he is. It’ll be huge, they’ll eat it up and leave nothin’.” Ellie relucted. A sense of panic filled you up. In no way were you a stellar actress. Any chances of sponsorships relied on this and this alone. How could you trust yourself to sell it, make it worth watching? How could you trust Ellie to pick up the weight?

“Sammyboy,” said Joel, tapping Sam’s knee. “We’ll talk about you in a sec. G’head to your room for now, so the girls can actually practice.”

When it was just the three of you, Joel had you two stand up. “Practice walking together.” He said, waving a hand between you two, as if to tell you to use your imagination.

You sighed. It couldn’t go on this way forever; unacknowledged and perpetually weird. You haven’t really talked about it yourselves yet. “Um, Ellie–

“Yep,” She groaned, popping the p. “It’s weird. I know. Look, kid,”

“We’re the same age–”

“Look,” Ellie insisted. This was different though, this voice on her. She wasn’t bitey, or mean. She wasn’t talking just to shut you up. Her eyes had that softness that went away so fast yesterday. “I’m sorry for… fuck’s sake. Uh. I’m not nice. I’ll be nicer. You…” She looked at the ground, muttering, almost shy. You couldn’t believe it. “You’ve got a good idea, helping the others. I want you to get it done. This’ll help.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. “Thank you, Ellie. I’m… I’m not nice to you either–”

“You are.” Her freckled cheeks pinkened. “Joel, go. We’ll practice, I swear.” Snapped Ellie, without taking her eyes off you. Joel’d been observing your exchange from the other couch, a sort of lightness flickered on his face.

“Good.” Was all he said. He groaned a little as he got up. “Stupid back.” He muttered. The door shut soundlessly behind him.

“You’re nice to me,” Ellie said, returning to you. You shook your head, about to protest, but she interrupted. “Do you– do you remember sometime five years ago, before my Games?” She tucked her jaggedly cut, dog-brown hair behind an ear. A black, metal stud piercing gleamed in the light. “I was drawing flowers outside your shop I think, because the blossoms on there are,” She paused to take a nervous breath.

“Beautiful. I love them.” You finished for her. She nodded.

“They’re pretty– and I was sort of, bleeding like a motherfucker?” Tried Ellie, head tilted with a stubborn blush.

You gasped. You remembered– there was a girl, she had long hair stuffed into a ponytail, with lots of it falling out the front. She was crying, with an oozing, bloody gash splitting her eyebrow.

You were about to open up the nursery that day, only thirteen, but she caught your attention. Sketching furiously on her notebook, staring holes into the blossoms ahead of her, swearing under her breath. You noticed her wound.

‘Hi,’ You said, thumbing the basket in your hands, lined with pink gingham, filled with supplies for the day. ‘Are you okay?’

The girl looked up from her work to glareat you. ‘Yes,’ she'd jeered before returning to her sketch-- but her hands stuttered. They flowed less naturally than a moment ago. You realized she was crying. It’s always been instinct for you to comfort. Babies were your calling for a reason– helping those who couldn’t help themselves. You don’t remember everything, but all of a sudden, you were kneeling in front of her, caressing her marred cheek and cleaning up her wound. You’d invited her inside so you could stitch her up in a cleaner environment. She’d sat on the countertop, towering over you slightly, so you had to go on tiptoes to place the sutures. She never gave her name, you never asked for it. All you remember is–

‘Someone hurt you,’ You whispered. Not asking. Knowing. The girl had only sniffled.

‘Yes.’ She’d whispered back.

A beat. You made sure to stitch her as gentle as possible. Your lips had curled into a small, sorry smile. ‘You love that word, huh?”

She smiled back and rolled her eyes. The hint of a personality, of a bite, behind all that blood.

Another thing: You’d stitched and bandaged her, and said, without thinking– ‘If you were one of the little kids, I’d kiss your ‘boo-boo’,’ You joked, but you remembered how the girl got red fast. She had shrugged, a little forced.

‘I-I don’t mind,’ She whispered, and so you did. Just a quick peck on her brow that had you heating up. You remember hoping she’d show up again, or maybe, she liked girls the way you did. You remember the tiniest little hope that, maybe, she could like you.

“That was you?” You asked, breathlessly. Ellie nodded.

“Surprise.” She muttered. You opened your mouth for a barrage of questions and exasperations– why didn’t you come back? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you– did the Capitol make you cut your hair?-- but Ellie lifted a hand, silently asking you not to talk about it. “Point is, you’re good.” It escaped her so quietly, as if it could fly under the radar of her usual attitude. “You’re good, kid.” The speckled green of her eyes took light captive, they went between boring into yours, and back down at fhe floor. “You’re kind. So… we’re doing this. Let’s take it seriously.” She outstretched her hand, and waited for you to take it.

You didn’t hesitate, and your hand found her warmth again. Your eyes trailed over her eyebrow, the scar. Another time, you told yourself, ask another time. Ellie cleared her throat. “Alright, so, when we walk around– when you’re not in cuffs, I mean– I was thinking I could, um…” She didn’t finish, and instead laid her arm to rest over your shoulders. She looked to you expectantly.

You nodded– fuck, a little too eagerly– “Y-yeah, sure.” Slowly, you wrapped a hand around her waist. “Is that okay?” Ellie nodded the same way, fast, eager, it made you laugh– making her laugh. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, what’ll Seven think.” Said Ellie, lightheartedly.

You cleared your throat. God, Ellie was so hot– heated, rather. She was like a radiator. It was strange, her being so genuine all of a sudden. In this conversation, you found yourself enjoying the Bandit Williams’ presence. An impish thought tickled the corner of your mind. “Kissing.” You blurted. Shocked, Ellie’s grip on you loosened, before her resolve returned and any prior surprise was wiped clean off. She gripped your arm firmly.

“Good thinking,” She said, a little loudly. Her chest puffed up, as if she needed armor. “They’d love it, they love some– um– raunchiness.”

Oh. You couldn't help it, and began observing her lips. They decorated her face like fallen rose petals, and they’re your favorite pink. You loved to deny it, but Ellie Williams was sexy. Both hot and heated. Even back home, with her being a genuine dipshit, it infuriated you how pleasant it was to look at her. Of course, the pleasantry vanished the second she would open her mouth. But that was back then, not including the strange, new and improved mentor version of Ellie. She wet her lips, giving you a glimpse of her peachy tongue. Raunchiness, she said. You grew flustered at the thought of being raunchy with Ellie. For cameras, you reminded yourself, for the Sponsors.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” You muttered.

“I gathered.” Said Ellie. “I think it’s kinda stupid.” You brows furrowed. “I mean, you could’ve asked anyone and they’d be– well, Joel said it first.” Ellie looked between you two, at the inches of distance on the cold tile. She stepped forward, leaving a hair’s worth between your slippers. “Any girl you’d ask would be all over you.” She shrugged then, as if she hadn’t complimented you on a massive degree– actually being nice to you for the second time in a row. More than nice. Could she be enjoying you too?

“Any girl?” You asked, daring to bite your lip to test if Ellie would watch it again. She did. Your heartbeat quickened. “H-how would we kiss? In front of them, I mean.”

“Rare short ones, pretending to be in secret. I’ll ask Joel how PG they have to be–” You swallowed, did she have something more in mind? “But there will have to be a big moment, a big kiss. Something for the replays.” She said, switching focus between your lips and your eyes. “We can peck, just to practice.”

Ellie was being so cavalier about this. Meanwhile these suggestions, thrown around like it was no big thing, were blowing your mind. “What are good mentors for?” You tried to joke, but it trembled, and didn’t land. All Ellie did was nod. “Let’s get the big kiss out of the way.” You said, without thinking. “To break the ice. I-if you don’t mind.”

You realize Ellie had gotten nose to nose with you, inching forward as every moment passed. Just this morning, you’d taunted each other with catty pet names and stood just like this.

“Fine by me.” Said Ellie, maintaining an unbothered tone.

“Yeah.” You whispered. You could feel your breath bouncing off Ellie’s mouth.

“Yeah.” She repeated. Ellie wrapped an arm around your waist. “Is this okay?” You nodded, too quickly. She cupped your cheek, the tips of her finger dug into your hair. “Is this okay?” She said, lower.

“Yes–” She took your lips– took them like they needed to be taken– into a deep kiss. Her mouth slid against yours as she nipped your bottom lip. You caught on, and copied her movements onto her top lip. You pulled away just slightly to speak. “Is that good–”

“Mhm.” And she pulled you in again, drinking your lips. Your hands buried up in her hair as hers clutched your waist. Now you understood all those boys at school, foaming at the mouth for a kiss and a squeeze and hollering all about it. Something wild and rabid thumped in your chest, then lower, then lower. The train melted away. The Games melted away. The Bandit Williams crap did, too. Who was Ellie besides that battered, sweet girl you patched up and the lips that turned off your mind?

Lips. Ellie’s hands. Warm, warm, warm.

The cameras.

Your eyes flew open and you pushed her away. She was panting, eyes dark as tar. For a second, she looked pissed. Huffing and red like someone robbed her. Your hands itched to practice your public personas some more.

But you couldn’t divert your attention from one of the many active and blinking cameras. “I don’t want them to see me like that. Or you.” You whispered.

The color returned to her face after some easy breaths. “For sure.” Ellie’s voice was so steady, so unaffected. You wished you could say the same about yours. She wasn’t looking at you though, and you didn’t like that.

Salo waltzed down the hall. Ellie made no move to create space between you. “You two!” Salo cooed. “Mister Miller let me in on your little secret! I should’ve known there was something brewing. Oh Bandit,” You cringed. He clutched Ellie’s arm, who flicked off is pest-like paws. He continued shamelessly. “Don’t go yelling at your lover in such a way anymore, all angry, be sweet to her! Sweet as confectionery. She needs all the support she can!” His hand slithered to cup your chin while Ellie eyed him with a sneer forming. “And you, gorgeous, well the odds are certainly favoring you so far! I’ll see that your coupling centerfolds the chicest publications.” Salo punctuated with a light tap-slap to your cheek, pinching it slightly. “My dearest friend, Ekko, will greet you at the train station to dress you in a jiff for the parade.”

“Ekko hates you, Salo.” Grumbled Ellie.

Salo pretended not to hear her. “I’ve already informed the studly Sam. Better dress in some day clothes, look presentable. Ciao!” With that, he sauntered off into the hall, a pair of neon blue boots clacking obnoxiously.

Any and all tension that had swollen and overflowed in the room had gone stale and dry. Ellie cleared her throat, with an unreadable face.

“Dress up, like he said. Ekko's cool. He's Capitol but nothing like Salo.” Without another word, she walked off too. “Need a fucking smoke.” She muttered.

Later, as you dressed yourself, you couldn’t help but lick your lips, and wonder if Ellie is doing the same between drags.

--

is this worth continuing?:(

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWO

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03 @rosemariiaa

kalena speakss 🪽! wanted to give yall another chapter tonight since college is kicking my butt atm and idk when the next update will be. hopefully soon tho!

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

“I just don’t see why you keep acting like our relationship doesn’t matter. I'm tired of acting like it doesn’t piss me off.” Julian spoke, disrupting the peace I had created for myself as I got dressed in the bathroom.

We were supposed to be getting ready for the Sparks home opener game against the Dallas Wings. I was exhausted from getting into LAX at an ungodly hour of the night, and now the conversation was giving me a headache.

“Ju, are we together?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” I turn around, slipping the mini gold hoops in my hand into my ears.

“No, but—”

I cut him off before he gets the chance to defend his position. “Then we’re not together.” I sigh. “I like where this is going, I really do, but we can’t keep having this conversation, Julian. I’m tired of it. This is just the way my career is working out right now.”

“So what? You make more money when the public thinks you’re single?” Julian asks. He’s very visibly frustrated, as he has been since before I even stepped off the stage in New York.

“No. I make more money when I keep the main thing the main thing. And right now the main thing is my music.” The words bounce off the wall for a moment, silence cutting through the air. I feel bad. He really is a great guy, and I hate to put him in a position like this, but it’s the way it has to be. “Ju’ come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry.”

My hand reaches out for his shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow. Instead he steps back from me, shaking his head with a huff and leaving the bathroom. 

“Have fun at the game, ‘Raye.” He speaks as he leaves, and it’s my turn to huff.

I turned around. Looking intently at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

This is the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in years, and yet, I’m spending the majority of it fighting over something dumb. But is it really dumb, or am I being insensitive?

I really do like Julian. He’s funny and sweet, he never fails to go out of his way to support me; I mean he just caught a flight to see me on Jimmy Fallon. He buys me flowers, he cares about communication, and all the little things. But for some reason I Just can’t keep up with it. 

It sucks.

—

May 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

The atmosphere in the arena is booming, and oddly enough I find myself surprised at how many people have filled Crypto. I’m seated courtside, underneath the basket nearest to The Sparks bench. The game is halfway through the first quarter and at a timeout when I take my seat. 

I have on a burgundy leather set from Fashion Nova. The shirt is a cropped button up that I only fastened at the bottom button and matching shorts. I’m wearing a pair of matching burgundy Prada slingback pumps that my recent success has gratefully allowed me to purchase. 

I sent a last minute text to my sister, telling her that Julian bailed and I would love it if she joined me, hence the slight tardiness. 

I’ve never seen Cassie as excited as she is right now. She’s beaming with energy, you would’ve thought she’s been planning this for months rather than being invited last minute. She’s for sure more of a basketball fan than I am, I credit that to my uncle. Whereas my dad made me more of a football fan.

“You’re gonna be getting infinite Christmas gifts this year for this, oh my God.” Cassie jokes with a kool aid smile on her face. I giggle, brushing her off.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Cassie.” I giggle, brushing her off playfully. My phone dings, and I pull it up from my lap to check the notification.

Hey I feel like shit about earlier

Talk when you get home?

It’s Julian. Of course it’s Julian. I try to fight the urge to frown but I can’t help the way the disheartened expression forms in my face. I shut my phone off, shaking the feeling off and turning back to the game.

The buzzer sounds, alerting us that the game is starting again. It allows me to finally bring my attention back to the game. The Sparks are down seven, but you couldn’t even tell that the fans were bothered by it. 

“Jumbotron.” My sister whispers to me and I notice the camera moving past ‘celebrity row’ and getting shots of everyone.

“Bro.” I groan. I don’t hate it, it just gets so awkward. The camera man stays out there for too long and then I forget what to do with my hands. 

But regardless, the camera approaches me and my sister. I look up briefly at the Jumbotron before back down at the camera in front of me. A smile spreads to my face and I wave emphatically. Fortunately it doesn’t take very long and the camera man backs away a little.

Only briefly though, because within a matter of seconds he’s crashing to the ground and his large camera falls into Casandra’s lap.

During all the basketball games I’ve ever watched, I’ve always wondered how common the players run into the media crew or the stands. And every time I've sat in an arena, I’ve always said it would never be me. So you can imagine my surprise when a 6 '1 Paige Bueckers fell right on me after getting fouled going for a layup, knocking over the camera man in the process.

“Oh shit, man you good?” Paige asks him. Her hand helps steady him on his feet and Cassie hands him his camera back, mumbling hurriedly if he was alright. The man nods, patting her on the back.

My eyes meet hers, and suddenly I’ve never seen a prettier set of eyes. A shade of blue that was indescribable. Her hand reaches out to the both of us, palms outstretched as she asks, “Are you guys okay?” It comes out as a stutter and I barely notice it but it’s there.

I nod. And then I remember she still has free throws to shoot. “Yeah. All good, thanks.” I smile. Paige turns around, brushing her teammates off with thumbs ups and high fives when they ask if she’s alright. 

I would be an idiot to say that I wasn’t a little star struck. Sure, I wasn’t completely up to date with all things basketball, but I knew more than enough to know just how much Paige Bueckers was loved in the basketball community. Hell, the city of LA basically through a parade when they got that #1 overall pick.

She was a superstar, in all possible definitions of the word. You couldn’t go more than five minutes without seeing her face on TikTok or some commercial. 

And she was stunning; the last five seconds of me staring at her confirmed it in my mind even more.

—

“Thanks, Holly.” I beam with a smile. It only takes a few seconds of me walking away from postgame to hear yelling in my ear and Cam’s long arms around my shoulders.

In the least cocky way possible, I played an amazing game. Yes, the defense I faced tonight was different than when I was at Connecticut and efficiency wise I did struggle a bit. Who am I kidding— I played phenomenal.

26 points 9 rebounds and 7 assists, the pick-and-roll with Dearica racking up many of those. The team came out with a narrow win over the Wings, getting our season off on the right foot.

“That’s my fuckin’ rook!” I hear Azura Stevens hype me up. I dap her up cleanly, the smile on my face physically impossible to get rid of. For only being on the team for a month, they did a great job of welcoming me with open arms. 

I could definitely get used to this.

A towel hangs around my neck, picking up all the sweat from the game. I’m walking towards the locker rooms with a few of my teammates when I get pulled back for some autographs. I don’t say no, honestly I can’t remember the last time I refused to sign an autograph. Or if I ever did. 

There’s a young girl in front of me alongside her mom. She has on the UConn National Championship shirt from a month ago, her eyes wide as she pushes my sparks jersey up to me. I sign it with a smile, my heart swelling in size when she squeals and thanks me profusely.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming out!” I grin. My feet carry me through a few more fans. I sign all sorts of memorabilia from hoodies, to jerseys, phone cases, and shoes. As well as a wild number of selfies before I hear my name.

“Paige, come here!” It’s Rickea, as her voice has become widely recognizable in the last month that I’ve been here. “Oh my God, walk slower!”

I roll my eyes as I pick up my pace. She’s standing courtside with her warmups on. “Finally. I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Maraye, this is Paige.”

When I look over it’s the girl from the TV last night, standing there with her purse in hand and— oh my God I ran into her like an hour ago. I fell into her lap. Oh my God this is embarrassing.

She looks even more gorgeous than when I was drooling over her last night. Her hair is the same, from what I can remember, but her outfit is completely different. The color she has on is similar to the one from last night, but the set shows off so much more skin. Her legs are toned, the top she wears is unbuttoned just enough to give me a show of the lace black bralette under it, and her gold septum shines in the arena light. 

“Hey.” I greeted her and the girl who sat next to her earlier in the night. “I do apologize about earlier by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” She reassures me.

“P, Cam, and I were watching the show last night. You did great, Raye.” Rickea pushes at Maraye’s shoulder. My eyes catch how she blushes in response. 

“You on a world tour or something? New York last night, and LA tonight.” I joke, and she laughs. Her laugh is possibly more angelic than her singing, and the way her accent popped out when she spoke might even have an edge on that.

“Nah. I just couldn’t miss opening night. Kea’ would never let me live it down, plus my sister is like a huge hoops fan.” She explains, gesturing to the two women next to us. 

I’m towering over her as I look at her but she still keeps eye contact with me. My eyes never leave hers, I didn’t even want them to.

“I was just telling her about Cam and Ben’s dinner party on friday.” Rickea starts. She turns to face me, but I’m still stuck on Maraye and her— well her everything. Rickea swats my arm as slyly as she can to get my attention. My eyes rip away from the musician with an incredulous force. “You are going to that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I gotta check on when Drew and my dad are coming to town.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then?” Maraye speaks. 

Someone please help me figure out why her eyes are so mesmerizing. They’re big and a perfect shade of brown. The slight tilt of her head when she asks me nearly drives me crazy.

“Yeah maybe.” I nod before looking at Rickea. I don’t know how long we’ve stood here, but what I do know is that coach will hand our asses to us on a silver platter if we’re late to the first media session of the season. “Yo, we gotta…” My head tilts towards the tunnel.

“Oh shit you’re right. It was so good to see you guys!” She jumps, pulling Maraye and her sister into a group hug. “Tell y’all folks I say hi!”

The four of us exchange waves and we walk off the court. By the time we make it to the tunnel Rickea is letting out a loud cackle and pushing me away from her. “You’re not even trying to hide it!” She laughs. I know exactly what she’s talking about but I act clueless, it’s too early for my teammates to be ridiculing me over my choices in women.

“You are sooooo going to that dinner party.”

A smirk spreads on my face and I roll my eyes. For the first time all month, I can’t even disagree. Nothing is stopping me from going to that dinner party.

[suhkusa]

You shiver a bit as the cool air breezes by, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The team should’ve been released already, now all you had to do was wait for Atsumu to come out.

You’re able to see Saki at a distance. She’s on her phone, a straight look on her face. You’re definitely on edge about her. But hey, if that’s Osamu’s girlfriend, you weren’t going to judge his taste. You’d only squint at it from afar.

You jump as a rough arm swings around your shoulder, pulling you close. 

“So, are you treating me out for winning today, or what?” the familiar voice quickly turns your worry to relief.

“God, you scared me,” 

Atsumu laughs at your surprised expression, guiding you along the sidewalk, “So? Don’tcha think I deserve it?”

You being your finger up to your chin in false thought, “Hmm, I don’t know,”

“Please, they said I was MVP,”

“Nah, I think it was ‘Samu,” he pouts at your words.

“You weren’t even watching! You were on your phone!”

He was looking at you?

“Nuh uh,” you deny, “But yeah, I’ll treat you somewhere, what are you feeling?”

Atsumu’s arm finally releases you, as he cheers and begins to list off his cravings.

——

The two of you get take-out from a nearby restaurant (you pay of course), before driving to a park in the area to settle down and eat.

You’re mid-bite when Atsumu asks, “What do you think of Saki?”

Your eyes widen before you quickly gulp down what’s in your mouth, “Um, she’s… alright?”

Atsumu laughs, “You don’t like her, huh?”

Your eyes wander awkwardly, giving him enough of an answer. “Me neither,” his answer shocks you a bit.

“Really?” you say before repeating back Saki’s words to Atsumu.

“She said that?” Atsumu dusts his hands off on a napkin. “To you?”

You nod, “Weird, right?”

The two of you share your worries and doubts regarding Saki, and for the most part, you’re in full agreement.

You finish your food shortly after he did. Atsumu collects the trash and disposes it nearby. 

“Care for a walk?” he holds his hand out to you.

You hesitate a bit before taking it, “Sure,”

It’s silent for a while until he finally breaks it.

“So, the kiss,” his words knock the breath out of you. “Let’s talk about it?”

All you do is nod. You’re scared. You completely forgot about the kiss. You were so caught up in the moment that it didn’t even cross your mind.

“I’m sorry it was out of nowhere, and I didn’t even ask,” he starts, “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable,”

Your head snaps towards him, “What? Nono, it’s okay, I- I didn’t mind,” heat rushes to the tips of your ears.

It’s silent again. Your steps are out of rhythm with his, but you still match his pace.

It’s another moment before he stops walking where he is. You take another step before freezing as well.

“I like you, Y/N,” Atsumu says, your eyes finally meet his golden ones, “Like, a lot,”

Your gaze widens just slightly, and it feels like the words slipped out of yours, too, “I like you, too, ‘Tsumu,”

It’s not very long until his lips are on yours once again, head and heart filled with him and only him.

———

Even after the sentimental moment, the car ride back was twice as awkward than earlier moments. What were the two of you now? You weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to date right away.

“Are we like, dating or—”

“Not yet,” you swiftly cut him off, still with a light tone.

He nods in understanding. 

Your hand reaches over to his free one, your thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.

You were happy. This was good and you were happy with your relationship with Atsumu.

What more could you ask for?

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — NERVES

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

new arc

atsumu would look at y/n every timeout and new set

^ and so would another certain someone

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[bitchinbarzal]

Elodie drops the gloves with kess at a family skate

It started out like any other family skate.

The team had wrapped practice, the music was playing, kids were lacing up their skates with too-big helmets and too-much confidence, and Clayton had Weston strapped to his chest in a fuzzy carrier, bouncing gently as he glided on the ice.

Kaia was on the bench, snapping photos of Elodie zipping across the rink like she owned it.

Because honestly? She kinda did.

Elodie had inherited her dad’s speed, her mom’s sass, and absolutely zero chill. She was in a bright pink jersey with “KELLER” and her dad’s number on the back, and she’d already “scored” on Cooley twice and told Logan his skating looked like a baby deer’s.

So yeah. Confidence: high.

Then came Kess.

Michael Kesselring—big, tall, good-natured, completely unprepared to be Elodie’s next victim.

“You wanna go, Kess?” Elodie chirped as she slid up next to him, pushing her helmet back just enough to let her curls spill out. “One-on-one. Loser gets a timeout.”

Kess blinked down at her. “A timeout? You’re five. You don’t give timeouts.”

Elodie stuck her tongue out. “Then you better not lose.”

Before Kess could respond, she took off down the ice like a rocket, deking an invisible defender, stickhandling like she’d been born in skates. Kess, confused but amused, chased after her.

She turned.

Stopped.

Squared up.

And dropped her gloves.

Right there, in the middle of the ice.

Two tiny gloves.

Fluttering to the ice.

Like a five-year-old enforcer.

“Let’s go, Kess. You scared?” Elodie called, her helmet slightly crooked, cheeks flushed.

From the bench, Kaia choked on her water. “Clayton,” she hissed, laughing, “your daughter just dropped the gloves with a grown man.”

Clayton skated over, wide-eyed. “Bug, what are you doing?!”

“He looked at me funny,” Elodie shrugged. “Had to defend my honor.”

Kess was bent over, wheezing with laughter. “She’s actually serious.”

“She’s always serious,” Kaia called. “Welcome to our lives.”

Clayton shook his head, kneeling beside her. “Bug, dropping the gloves is for fights. You’re not supposed to fight your dad’s teammates.”

Elodie gave him a deadpan look. “Then tell Kess not to chirp my skating.”

“I didn’t chirp anything!” Kess laughed. “I said you were fast!”

“Yeah. Fast like a squirrel. That’s a chirp.”

Everyone on the ice was now watching. Cooley had his phone out. Josh Doan was dying in the corner. Weston burped dramatically in his carrier.

Kess finally put his stick down and lifted his gloves. “Alright, alright. Truce, okay? We’ll settle it with a race next time. I don’t wanna get benched for fighting a kindergartener.”

Elodie tilted her head. “Fine. But I want a juice box after.”

“Deal.”

Later, in the locker room, Clayton looked at Kess and shook his head.

“She gets that from Kaia,” he muttered.

Kess rubbed his shoulder. “She hit me with a mini stick, Keller. I’m not convinced I’m walking away from this without bruises.”

And across the room, Elodie was bragging to Cooley that she “won the fight without even punching him,” and Kaia just smiled like the proud, exhausted mother of a tiny hockey terror.

Because Elodie Keller doesn’t fight to lose.

[cameronspecial]

New Daddy

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Millie decides she needs a new daddy after one time out.

Masterlist

Millie loves her mother and father, but when Drew gives her a timeout for hitting him, she is not his biggest fan at the moment. Y/N watches her little girl play on the playground while bouncing baby Tristan in her arms. A little boy approaches Millie and Y/N can’t hear the conversation they are having, but it seems to entertain her daughter. “Hi, I’m Chris. And I am four years old. I have a daddy, but no mommy,” the other child introduces himself. Millie beams at his last words, “I’m Millie. I have a mommy and daddy, but I’m mad at my daddy. Does your daddy want to marry my mommy? You can be my new brother. I already have a little brother.” Chris doesn’t really know what Millie wants to do, yet he still agrees to it to make her happy. 

Y/N spots her daughter walking toward a man with a new friend and her maternal instincts kick in. She runs over to her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Millie, what are you doing? You know you shouldn’t approach strangers,” Y/N reprimands her daughter. Millie smiles up at her mother, “But he’s not a stranger, Mommy. He is my new brother’s daddy. You should give him your phone number.” Y/N’s eyebrows knit at her daughter’s words. She readjusts Tristan in her arms.

“What do you mean, Millie? This little boy is not your new brother. Do you want a play date with him? Is that what you mean?” 

“No, his daddy is going to be your husband. Chris doesn’t have a mommy, so you can be his mommy.” 

Y/N’s eyes widen at her daughter’s words and she looks up apologetically at Chris’s dad. “Millie, I have a husband already. Remember, he’s your daddy.” Millie crosses her arms with a shake of a head, “He’s not my daddy anymore. He was mean to me. He put me in time out.” Y/N can’t help but giggle at her daughter’s words and she can’t wait to tell Drew the story when they get home.

——

Millie runs into the house, going to wash her hands for the snack she is told that her father is preparing for her. Y/N pushes the stroller into the house and leaves it at the front door. She takes Tristan out of the car seat and heads to the kitchen to find her husband cutting a strawberry into a flower. “You might want to start looking for a new house,” Y/N jokes, coming close to him to kiss his cheek. He moves away from her with confusion written on his face, “Why?” “Apparently, your daughter is in the market for a new daddy. She even went as far as telling me to give my number to her new friend’s single dad,” she explains to her husband. Betrayal crosses his features as his little girl runs into the room. “You don’t want me as a daddy anymore, Mills?” he questions with an upset look.

She shrugs, forgetting her slight against him and just wanting her snack. She runs over to the counter and reaches for the fruit in his hands. He moves his hand over his head and out of her reach. He shakes his head, “Nope, strawberries are only for little girls who want their daddy.” “I do want you, Daddy. You were just mean to me,” she pouts, jumping for the strawberry. Drew doesn’t give in to her reach. “Well, what do you say to daddies that you want?” Millie knows the game her dad is playing and wraps her short arms around his legs, giving his leg kisses since she can’t reach his face. “I love you, Daddy. Can I please have my snack now?” she asks. He grins down at her and picks her up into his arms. He kisses her cheek, handing her the strawberry. “Of course. I love you too, Baby. Just don’t hit people and you won’t get a timeout.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[demie90s]

could you do an azzi x shy! gf reader where reader gets jealous but doesn’t want to be a bother so she doesn’t wanna say anything but azzi knows her too well and figures it out herself

𝗔𝘇𝘇𝗶 𝗙𝘂𝗱𝗱 x 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Say It Without Saying It

MASTERLIST | MORE

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: You’re Azzi’s quiet girlfriend—lowkey, supportive, and rarely the one to speak up. But when Azzi gets too friendly with a teammate at a post-game dinner, your silence says more than you think.

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: Soft angst, fluff, comfort, slice-of-life

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Jealousy, overthinking, soft confrontation, kissing

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~0.8k

𝙑𝙞𝙗𝙚: Intimate, observant, warm tension that melts into reassurance

You hadn’t said much all night.

Which wasn’t out of character for you, exactly—but Azzi knew better than anyone that there was a difference between your soft silence and your shut-off silence. One felt like calm water. The other was more like ice just starting to crack.

And tonight? You were frozen stiff next to her, picking at your food, not even bothering to fake a laugh when KK did her usual impression of Geno mid-timeout.

Azzi hadn’t missed the shift—how your hand that used to rest on her thigh was now curled in your lap. How you smiled at the table but blinked just a little too slow when someone else reached for her attention. How you didn’t say a word when that freshman with the long lashes laughed too hard at something Azzi said.

Azzi didn’t flirt. Not with anyone but you. But she was friendly. Charismatic. And when it came to teammates, she always played the game of let me make you feel welcome.

You hated that it made you jealous. Because it was stupid. You knew her. You had her. And she made that clear every day.

But that didn’t stop the feeling.

That creeping insecurity that whispered she could have anyone in this room. So why would she stay with you?

You shifted beside her in the booth, your knee pulling away when hers brushed yours. Not dramatic—just enough that she noticed.

And Azzi always noticed.

She leaned in close, voice barely a breath in your ear.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Yeah.” Too quickly. Too rehearsed.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed just a little, scanning your face.

“Wanna go outside for a sec?” she asked softly.

You hesitated. She was giving you an out. A space away from the table, from the noise, from the way that freshman kept twirling her hair when Azzi said anything.

“…Okay.”

Azzi slid out of the booth first, pressing a hand to your lower back as you followed her toward the restaurant doors. The moment you stepped outside into the cool air, you inhaled like you’d been holding your breath the whole dinner.

You were.

She leaned against the wall, looking at you—not pushy, just open. Patient.

You couldn’t hold her gaze for long. You looked at the sidewalk instead.

“I’m not mad,” you said quickly, arms crossed even though you weren’t cold. “You didn’t do anything.”

Azzi tilted her head. “I didn’t say you were mad.”

You blinked. “Right. I just… didn’t want you to think I was. ’Cause I’m not. And I’m not like… jealous or anything.”

A pause. Azzi stepped a little closer.

You didn’t move away this time, but your arms stayed locked across your chest like a shield.

“…Is that what this is?” she asked gently. “Jealousy?”

You didn’t answer. Not out loud. Just a shrug. A look toward the street.

But she saw it. The little twitch in your lip when you were trying not to admit something. The way your foot tapped in place when you were annoyed at yourself.

Azzi smiled, just a little.

“You think I didn’t notice how quiet you got when she sat next to me?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

“I wasn’t—!”

“You were,” Azzi said, interrupting softly. Not teasing. Just honest. “You barely touched your food. You stopped talking. You haven’t looked at me in almost an hour.”

You frowned, lower lip tugging between your teeth.

“I didn’t wanna be… that girlfriend.”

“What girlfriend?” Azzi asked. “The one who has feelings?”

You looked down again. “The insecure one.”

Azzi’s face softened.

“Baby…” Her voice dropped, gentler than before. “That’s not insecure. That’s human.”

You blinked quickly like you were trying to clear a fog from your eyes. You didn’t want to cry. Not over this. It felt so small, so silly.

But it wasn’t. Not to Azzi.

She reached out, sliding her arms around your waist and pulling you into her slowly—giving you the space to resist.

You didn’t.

Your forehead pressed to her shoulder like gravity made the choice for you.

“I know it’s dumb,” you mumbled into her hoodie.

“It’s not dumb,” she said, rubbing your back in slow circles. “If something makes you feel off, I wanna know.”

You sighed. “You were just talking to her.”

“I talk to a lot of people,” she said softly. “But I’m only in love with one.”

You swallowed.

Azzi pulled back enough to cup your face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed your cheeks, her eyes searching yours.

“I know you don’t like attention. I know you’d rather shrink into the booth and pretend you’re invisible. But I see you. I always see you.”

You nodded, slow and unsure.

“I just don’t want you to think I don’t trust you,” you whispered. “Because I do.”

“I know,” she said. “But it’s okay to need reminders sometimes. That’s not weakness. That’s love.”

You finally met her eyes—really met them—and the dam cracked just enough to let a tear slip. Azzi kissed it away before you could wipe it.

“I don’t care if you get shy. Or jealous. Or quiet. I care that you tell me when you feel like this.”

You nodded into her again, this time wrapping your arms around her waist and holding on.

Azzi rested her chin on your head, her voice barely above the sound of passing cars.

“Next time you feel it?” she said softly. “Say it. Even if it’s just a look. I’ll know.”

You looked up, cheeks warm.

“Promise?”

She smiled.

“Always.”

And when she kissed you this time, there was no hesitation in the way your hand found hers. No doubt in how tightly you held on.

Because you knew now—Azzi didn’t need you to be loud.

She just needed you to be real. And you were.

[mvjerbs]

 “Ami! I was going to pay for us!” Kenji complained as he walks out of the restaurant together with Ami who continues to ignore his complaints. She had called him for another exclusive interview but eventually got distracted and started chatting about other things, sharing tea and gossip about other players and people. Ah, the perks of being friends with a journalist.

“Amiii, let me pay you.” Kenji whined causing Ami to sigh in annoyance.

“Oh, just let it go already. I don’t want to feel like a leech! Besides, I was the one who asked for the meet up therefore I am the one who is obliged to pay for us.” Ami reasoned.

“But I have money to burn. Lots of it!” Kenji replied, raising his arms up in the air to prove his point. Ami only rolls her eyes with a smile, still not giving into the offer.

“Ok millionaire, I gotta go now. Chiho is waiting for me to go home.” As if on cue, Ami’s phone rang causing both to look at the source of the noise. Ami fished out her phone from her bag and answered the call, but before she could say hello, Chiho’s voice yelled ‘Mama!’ loudly causing Ami to flinch away from her phone for a moment. Kenji laughed which earned him glare from her.

“What a timing. I’m guessing she’s going to ask you to buy something for her?” Kenji said. Ami replied with a nod before waving goodbye to Kenji who, in turn, waved back before heading to where his Motorbike was parked. As he walked to the parking lot, he passed by a bookstore where he found the brightest and the most eye catching storybook he has ever seen that even got himself hypnotized. Kenji has to admit, he has never seen anything quite like it before, it was adorable and brightly colored. Something Emi would like, it’s been awhile since he last bought her a story book and Kenji decides it was perfect for her. Well, appearance wise that is, he has to check the contents of the book to make sure if it was suitable for her. With the decision in his mind, Kenji walks in and went to the children’s corner where he found the book he was looking for. He read the story for himself to check and was satisfied with it, he turns around to head to the cashier and pay for it only for him to run into someone he didn’t expect to meet. Just a few feet away from him with a basket full of books on one hand while browsing the shelf was-

“Agamatsu?”

The man turned to Kenji and his eyes widened from surprise.

“Sato?” Juro called. The initial shock wore off from Kenji and was now replaced with a smirk.

“Well, it’s a surprise to see you here Agamatsu. What are you doing in the nerd shop?” Kenji asked. Juro turned to fully face Kenji as he gave him his own smirk.

“Was going to say the same thing, but the children’s book says so otherwise. What’s that for? Don’t tell me you let your dad read you bed time stories” Juro replied.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bookworm” Kenji said in a mocking tone. Despite the insults being thrown at each other, they both felt a strange sense of playfulness in each word causing them to feel slightly comfortable around each other. In fact, Juro merely laughed at what Kenji said causing him to smile. Juro eventually calmed down before asking a favor.

“Hey, listen. Let’s timeout for now, I need help on something.” Juro said, surprising Kenji but nonetheless obliged from the request.

“I honestly thought you forgot about that since it has been months, nor did I expect to do this again with you but I’ll bite. What do you need help with?” Kenji said, curiosity over coming him.

“Of course I wouldn’t forget it, it was something unexpected, but anyways. I need help looking for a book series. The birthday of my friend’s sister is coming up and she has been wishing to get this series as a gift.” Juro explains. Kenji nods along, finally knowing the purpose of the ‘timeout’.

“What do you have so far?” Kenji asked as he peered into the basket.

“So far, I only found 2 parts which is the series’ book 2 and 4.” Juro continued while picking up both books to show to Kenji. 

“I need to have all 5 parts of the book series but I can’t find the rest and I have circled this god forsaken bookstore 4 times already.” Juro complained, looking slightly frustrated at the situation he is in. Looking closely, Kenji could see the exhaustion from walking and looking around. No wonder he’s desperate enough to ask help from him.

“Alright then, I’ll help. Where do we start?” Kenji asked slightly lifting his sleeves to emphasize his seriousness in helping. Juro smiled at the gesture. Both immediately got to work and spent the whole time in the bookstore digging, asking, searching, and complaining about how some costumers won’t return books to where they were originally placed and how it cost them their energy (the other parts were scattered in different parts of the bookstore). Eventually, they found the rest of the parts, all except for the last. Kenji was starting to feel frustrated and Juro was in the verge of giving up, he turned to Kenji to tell him that they can stop then when he was cut of by him.

“Juro, Look!” Kenji exclaimed and pointed. Juro followed the direction to where he was pointing and there he saw someone holding the last book that they needed. And from the looks of it, she was about to return it to the shelf. Both started to head towards where the woman was.

“Excuse me ma’am, I just wanted to ask if you were going to buy that book you are holding?” Kenji asked, catching the attention of the woman causing her to turn around.

“Oh, no I’m not. In fact I was just about to put it back on the shelf. Do you want this book?” The woman asked, pointing at the book.

“Yes please ma’am, thank you so much. You have no idea how long we have been looking for this.” Juro thanked her, both him and Kenji let out a sigh of relief. Their book hunt was now finally over after hours of searching.

“Well, it’s a good thing you both found me before anyone else can-“Before the lady could finish and hand over the book, someone passed and snatched the book away from them and proceeded to walk away.

“Wuh- Hey! That’s ours!” Kenji yelled, pissed because someone had the audacity to snatch the book from them after finally finding it. The man turned to and proceeded to give them a dirty look.

“Yours? You don’t seem like the type to read these type of genre. You don’t seem like the type to read at all. Besides, she was putting it back so I’m claiming it.” The man replied and left, leaving no chance for Kenji to speak.

“Son of a-“Kenji was about to march over to the man, ready to fight for the book when Juro grabbed his arm causing him to stop.

“What are you doing? We should go after him.” Kenji asked, anger evident in his face, but he noticed that Juro’s expression was the opposite. He was strangely calm for someone whose gift was stolen from him. Kenji wonders what he has in mind.

“We will, but I have you ask you something.” Juro said, still staring at the man took their book. Kenji gave him a confused look but turned to him to show he was listening.

“How do you feel about going low?” Juro asked. Kenji smiled in response, glancing at the thief one last time before walking closer to Juro to listen to his plan.

“Fools, they should’ve grabbed it immediately instead of talking. Now my collection is complete!” the man said, smiling to himself as he walks into an aisle, browsing the shelfs and occasionally grabbing a book to read its synopsis. The man was engrossed on the book he grabbed that he failed to see Kenji approaching. As he got close, Kenji ‘accidentally’ bumps into the man causing him to drop all the books he had.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I really should’ve looked where I was going” Kenji apologized. Bending down to help the man in picking up the books he dropped.

“Maybe you should, idiot.” The man muttered loud enough to make sure Kenji hears it. Kenji gritted his teeth, holding back the urge to actually punch the man in the face. After collecting the books, he handed them back to the man and apologized once more before turning to leave.

The man continues to grumble while checking if he was missing any books, and he was. The man slowly started to panic as he wonders what he was missing and where it went before realizing which book was missing. It was also the moment when he realized who bumped into him. Enraged, the man dropped his books and started to look for Kenji, repeatedly chanting ‘thief’. It didn’t take long for him to find Kenji who was just an aisle away from where the man was, he was browsing and looking at the books he was passing by.

“YOU!” The man exclaimed loudly, causing everyone to turn to him including Kenji. Kenji swears he could hear steam coming out of his ear with how angry the man was as he was marching over towards him.

“YOU STOLE MY BOOK! WHERE IS MY BOOK?!” The man said, grabbing Kenji by the collar of his shirt causing him to slightly bend forward. The man was quite short compared to Kenji.

“Book? What book? Can’t you see I am trying to look for a book as well?” Kenji replied, standing back to his full height causing the man so slightly stumble forward.

“LIAR! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHICH BOOK YOU T-“The man shook Kenji angrily, but then he saw something at the corner of his eye. By the cashier, he saw the missing book that was being held and packed inside a bag by the cashier and Juro handing over the cash to pay.

It turns out, Kenji had stolen the book when he had accidentally bumped into the man and was passed on to Juro who was hiding behind a shelf that was close to the cashier. With book acquired, Juro heads for the cashier while Kenji walks away from Juro to serve as a distraction for when the man realizes one of his books are missing.

The man panicked, letting go of Kenji and started to bolt for the cashier.

“NOOOOO” He yelled out, the world seemed to slow down around him as he watched the cashier print out the receipt and handing it to Juro.

“Here you go sir! Thank you for shopping in-“The cashier yelped in surprise as Juro immediately grabbed the book when he noticed the man dashing for it. He held the book up and backed away from the man who was currently attempting to grab it from him.

“NO THAT’S MINE, YOU CANT HAVE THAT.” The man yelled, trying to get close to Juro and grab the book from him.

“Dude, I just paid for this!” Juro said, still keeping the book out of the man’s reach.

“NO GIVE IT BACK YOURE STEALING YOU THIEF.” The man said accusingly.

“Thief?! I just bought this, its on my receipt. You’re the thief here since you’re trying to take what’s technically my property!” Juro snapped back. This caused the man to throw a tantrum and was about to lunge at Juro when he was suddenly apprehended by the security. He continued to cry out as he was being escorted out of the building. Both Juro and Kenji watched as the man pathetically cried and hurl insults at them before eventually being thrown out of the store.

“Finally, that guy was gone. We have been waiting for an opportunity to do that since he kept disturbing other costumers.” The cashier said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“He does that all the time?” Kenji and Juro asked at the same time, both shocked at the revelation.

“All the time.” The cashier confirms and thanked them once again for shopping. After all the books were paid, both exited the building where they stood there for a moment to process the events that had transpired in the store.

“…do you think we went too low? I mean, we basically embarrassed the guy and got him banned.” Juro asked, finally breaking the silence.

“…nah, he deserved it.” Kenji said. Both looked at each other before bursting out in laughter, tears forming in eyes from how hard they were laughing. Eventually they both calmed down.

“Oh man, that was amazing.” Juro said, wiping the tear from his eyes as he slowly regained his posture. Kenji nodded in agreement, finally calming down from his own laughter.

“Alright. I should pay you for my book-“ Kenji said, reaching for his pockets to fish out his wallet when Juro grabbed his hand to stop him.

“Oh, No need. Take it as thanks for helping me out today.” Juro said, grabbing the story book out of the bag and handing it.

“Ughh, c’mon man. You’re the second person who paid for me today, let me use my money!” Kenji groaned and Juro laughed in response.

“Too bad. Suffer the rich people problems.” Juro replied, Kenji pouted but still accepted the book. He’s going to find a way to somehow repay him for it. As Kenji grabbed the storybook and noticed the contents of the bag.

“Hey, speaking of books. Are those Robotics and Engineering books?” Kenji said, pointing into the bag.

“Oh, yeah they are.” Juro confirmed, fishing out a book to show Kenji.

“Are they for someone as well? They must be a genius to be asking for that kind of book.” Kenji said, thinking about how his dad and the person might get along with their interests.

“No, these are for me.” Juro replied. Kenji looked at Juro with eyes wide in surprise.

“Yours? I didn’t think you were the type at all. No offense.” Kenji commented. Juro simply shrugged at him, looking at the book he has on his hand.

“It’s just a hobby of mine. Nothing much.” Juro said dismissively.

“Nothing much? Bro, my dad is the same as you and I still get impressed with what he makes. You should really show me some stuff, I could show it to my dad too.” Kenji said, Juro looked away while running his hand through his hair. A habit that Kenji notice him do often.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks again by the way. Our timeout can end here.” Juro said as he gave Kenji a soft smile, and Kenji mirrors it.

“Alright, I’ll see you later…nerd.” Kenji said, his smile now replaced with a smirk.

“Really? After you just learned about my hobby I’m a nerd now?” Juro said, playfully as he watch Kenji slowly walking away from him.

“It fits!” Kenji said, still smiling.

“Whatever, thief!” Juro yelled, causing a few people to turn to them.

“You can’t just say that out loud!” Kenji yelled back, now embarrassed as he noticed a few stares from people. Juro only laughed loudly. He watches as Kenji gets on his Bike and drives away while flipping him off as he drove past where he stood, Juro laughed harder and waved at him. As Kenji’s figure disappeared from his sight, he turns around and headed for his car that was parked not too far from him as well. On his way, he recalled the events that happened in the bookstore and Kenji’s laughter echoes in his mind as they laughed about what happened. Juro smiled, suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy inside, he made a new friend. As Juro steps into his car, he silently wished they could have another timeout.