#Love & Hip Hop Cast

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

@fluffydreamland YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

so this au (which we really need to find a name for, damn) is the lovechild of myself and @jasponchaos, and y’all aren’t even ready for how awesome this is

Sonic the Hedgehog: a chill hip-hop dancer

Shadow the Hedgehog: an uptight ballerina

The pair dance at the same studio, and are paired up for the upcoming Big Dance Competition — a cross-genre blend. The stakes are high… if they don’t win the cash prize, their studio will be bought out by Robotnik, a businessman who has probably never known joy or whimsy.

At first, the two can’t stand each other. But as they work together to create the ultimate hip-hop/ballet routine, teaching each other’s styles? They might just learn to get along… and maybe fall in love along the way.

[princesslitefut]

So Sad...

So apparently Yandy has given Mendeecees yet another reason to feel “Lesser than” in the marriage. And honestly I’m not exactly sure this is soley due to the fact that she wanted to carry her cousin’s baby without his permission. Or is it just flat out that he doesn’t trust Yandy? It seems to me like in another 6 months there will be another issue that causes him not to wear his ring. Mendeecees…

[wol-fica]

-L-O-V-E-

summary - good old’ morning fun

an - glad i finished this tonight lmao

warnings - p in v, oral(s receiving), fingering, spanking, little bit of anal, crying

parings - sabrinacarpenter x g!preader

——————————

You groaned, throwing your forearm over your face to shield your eyes from the sun. Beams of light spewed in through the curtains, casting your bedroom in a subtle orange tint that warmed your skin as you awoke from your deep slumber.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning, birds could be heard chirping outside as the world woke up around them, with car engines rumbling by and the occasional jogger mumbling along to their music as they passed your half-open window. A gentle breeze passed through the screen, the gentle blow of the curtains resembling that of ocean waves.

You rolled onto your back, grunting slightly as you adjusted on your pillow; Björn and Benny, your two very cuddly cats, were sprawled out on the end of your bed cleaning one another and yawning, seeming to just be waking up like you were. After a reluctant stretch, you carefully peeled back the covers and stood up, cracking your neck and silently heading for the bathroom to not disturb the other presence in the room.

You made your way to the sink, turning on the water and running your toothbrush under it before applying your toothpaste. Once you finished brushing, you swirled water in your mouth and rinsed before stripping of your clothes and hopping into the shower. You sighed when the warm water hit your body, running down your skin and relaxing your tense muscles with ease. You were quick with your wash, scrubbing your body with a loofah and shampooing your hair before rinsing off and stepping out. You wrapped a towel around your waist, scratching your neck as you exited the bathroom.

After a quick glance at your bed, you headed into your closet to pick out something comfortable to wear. You pulled a sports bra on, opting to just disregard your shirt options, and threw on boxers and sweats before grabbing your hairbrush. You gently detangled your locks, setting the brush down and ruffling it up to give it some volume as it air dried.

Benny rubbed through your legs, and you smiled, knowing that a certain someone was now awake. You scratched between his ears and left the room, heading towards the other side of your bed. Sabrina was turned over onto her stomach, cradling her pillow under her head as she attempted to fall back asleep. You hummed, leaning down to press your lips to her temple.

“Hi baby.” You said softly, pushing her messy bangs out of her face, “How’d you sleep?”

She groaned, trying to burrow further into the warmth of the mattress, “Too early.”

You chuckled and squatted down, reaching under her loose tank-top to rub her spine. She sighed from your touch, arching her back from the pressure of your fingers on her skin. Your eyes followed the track of her body, a faint blush coming to your face from the sight of her back arched.

“Wanna get up for me, gorgeous?” You asked, leaning in again to kiss her, this time leaving little pecks on her jaw.

Sabrina mumbled a quiet “mhmm” and pushed the covers back, gingerly sitting up to stretch. She raised her arms above her head, her back popping pleasantly as a little whimper passed her lips. You opted to kneel instead of squatting, rubbing her soft thighs as you shamelessly ogled her. She was in a thin sleeping tank and lacy underwear, and nothing more. Little love bites were covering her neck and chest, and a few could be seen on her hips and inner thighs, which was your doing from a few nights ago. Her eyes caught yours, and she smiled cheekily before leaning forward and cupping your face to press her lips to yours.

Her movements were soft and gentle, her lips moist and plump against yours. You hummed at her touch, pushing yourself up and leaning on her thighs while she stroked her thumbs against your face. She tugged slightly at you, silently trying to pull you up closer to her. You smiled at her neediness but complied, moving up into her and pushing her to lay on her back instead. Your body hovered over hers, your forearms finding a resting spot on both sides of her head while she ran her hands up under your bra. Her acrylics scratched gently at your skin, tracing your muscles and running down your spine while you both kissed.

“Mm…baby…” Sabrina mumbled, threading her fingers into your hair as you pressed your lips against her neck.

You nipped at her skin, leaving little pecks around her jugular before sealing your lips onto her pulse point. You gently began to suck, your hands finding solace with holding her hips as you gave her another hickey to match the slightly faded ones she already bore. She let out a breathy moan, slightly arching her back up into you when your thumbs slipped under the hem of her tank top.

“Y/N…” She whined softly, pouting when you pulled away from her neck, “I need you…”

“What’s the magic word?” You asked playfully, nuzzling her cheek.

“Please baby…” She begged, trying to guide your head down, “Touch me.”

You smiled and pushed her shirt up her torso, revealing her muscular stomach and full breasts. You kissed across her collar bone, moving down between the valley of her breasts to kiss just under them. She writhed impatiently under you, ever so slightly tugging at your hair as a request for you to do more, and who were you to deny your girlfriend. After leaving tiny love bites on her warm skin, you finally took one of her nipples into your mouth, flicking your tongue across it a few times before sucking in a rhythmic manner.

She breathed out a moan, soft and airy, her grip tightening on your scalp as you sucked a little harder. Her body craved you, craved your lips and hands to be everywhere and anywhere at the same time. The heat between her legs was growing, a throbbing pressure that needed to be relieved soon or she would most likely loose her mind.

“Can…can you go lower?” She asked, her eyes fluttering as you switched to her other breast to give it the same treatment.

You hummed on her nipple, a mewl passing through her parted lips from the vibration, and slipped your thumb under the elastic of her panties, pulling them down her legs and tossing them somewhere behind you. Your fingers trailed back up her thighs, reaching her warm core. She radiated heat, and you sighed when you pressed your palm against her. She was soaked, practically dripping into your hand from your touch.

“Jesus Sab’…” You said, pressing a final kiss to her nipple before moving down her body to settle between her legs, “You’re so wet.”

Sabrina huffed; eyes fluttering shut when she felt your lips press against the soft skin of her thigh. You kissed around where she needed you most, gentle and teasing in such a way that it was teetering on the edge of almost enough. Her body ached for you, yearning and dying to be touched by you.

“So gorgeous.” You murmured to her, pulling her lips apart with your thumbs, “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable princess.”

Sabrina nodded with a smile that was quickly replaced by a gasp of pleasure, her eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tongue licking a long stripe up her entrance. You toyed with her, lazily lapping up her wetness as she whined and keened above you. She tasted divine, a sweetness like no other that you found yourself craving day by day when she wasn’t around.

After a few more moments of your torment, you pulled your tongue away from her, chuckling when she made a noise of disappointment. You sat and admired for a moment, taking in the meal before you. She pulsed unrhythmically, her cunt clenching around nothing as a poor attempt at satiating the arousal that burned in her stomach.

“Be patient for me Sab.” You reminded her, leaning down to kiss her clit, “Let me praise you.”

She nodded, gasping out a mewl when your lips sealed around her aching bud. You sucked with rigor, occasionally flicking your tongue out to stimulate the bundle of nerves as you worked. Your hand slid from her hip to between her thighs, two fingers sliding through her folds experimentally before pushing inside her in one go.

She moaned, deep and harmonious, her back arching beautifully as you worked yourself into her. Soon you were knuckle deep inside her warmth, unmoving as you sloppily sucked at her clit. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, silently begging to be stretched and bruised, but you weren’t labeled as a tease for nothing.

“F-fuck..” Sabrina whispered, small pants exiting your mouth from the feeling of your fingers inside of her, “Please baby…move…”

You giggled, the vibrations rumbling against her bud that had her gasping a little more, “As you wish, pretty girl.”

You slowly began to feel her, exploring the waters of her limits with little curls to start. Her velvet walls parted for you, warm, wet, and intoxicating as you sped up your movements. Soft squelching began to sound in the room, her juices flowing past your fingers and pooling below on the sheets while you pumped in and out of her.

She was properly moaning now, your name chanted on her lips like a prayer as you finally scratched that itch that was so bothersome. You curled upwards a little harder, searching for that sweet spot that you knew made her crumble in your hold.

“S-shit!” Sabrina keened, reaching for your free hand to grasp it tightly, “Right there, baby! Right there!”

You smirked against her, giving her clit one last final suck before detaching your lips from her. You focused the tips of your fingers rubbing that sensitive spot, pushing up into it and massaging around to bring her to her orgasm. She moaned from above, her voice angelic and heaven-sent as she let herself come undone around your digits. You pressed your lips to her stomach, gently pulling your fingers away once her high fell back down to earth.

“Good job baby.” You praised, leaving small kisses up her naked body until you were face to face with her, “You okay?”

She paused a moment, catching her breath with deep gulps of the morning air as her eyes slowly peeled back open. Her gaze met yours, beautiful blue iris’ shining under the sun as she smiled. Her hands, soft and oh so warm, cupped around the back of your neck as she ogled at you.

“Hi.” Sabrina whispered, playing with your baby hairs as a stimulant.

“Why hello.” You replied, smiling when she giggled sweetly, “Think you can do more for me, princess?”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting so she could wrap her legs around you, “Do you even know me?”

You chuckled and pressed your lips to her forehead, mumbling a quiet ‘course I do’ before reaching down to undo the tie on your sweatpants. After fumbling for a moment, you finally pushed the soft garment off your hips along with your boxers. Your aching member sprung free, slapping against your stomach and almost pulsing with excitement. You took her thighs in your hands, pushing them up and apart before taking her hands and placing them on your hips.

Flexible, she is.

“Don’t move, kay?” You said to her, blowing air on her face that made her eyes flutter gently.

You aligned yourself with her entrance, letting the head of your cock brush through her puffy folds as an experiment. She whined softly, biting her lip at the feeling of your swollen head almost slipping inside of her from your slow movements. It was antagonizing how you teased her, barely bringing her pleasure yet not even pushing inside of her, it was brutal how she crumbled at your touch.

A gasp broke from her throat, turning into a cry of satisfaction when you finally entered her in one swift motion, filling her quickly as to not keep her waiting any longer. Her walls parted for you, stretching around you to fit like a snug embrace as you settled deep inside of her. A moan fell from your lips at the feeling of her, your eyes falling shut from her warmth enveloping you.

“Fuck babe.” You groaned, placing your hands on her knees, “This pussy feels so good.”

She moaned in response, eyes rolling backwards as you began to thrust into her. Her head fell backwards, pants and breathy whines escaping her plump lips while you fucked her with no abandon. You gritted your teeth, focused on finding that deep spot she would always rave about, saying you were the first and only that ever found that pinpoint that had her cumming over and over again.

“Look at me.” You grunted, pushing her hands off you as you leaned over her, your hands finding their place on her hips, “Sabrina, eyes on me.”

She weakly fluttered her eyes open, pupils dilated and blown out as she found yours. You smiled softly, nudging your nose against her before speeding up your pace. She cried out, eyes burrowing into yours all while you just watched her so gently. She looked so wrecked under you, half-lidded eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill, it made your head spin in circles.

“M' close…” Sabrina moaned high-pitched, pulling at your sports bra as a grounding method as she once again neared her high, “Fuuuuck you’re so big.”

Your hips drilled into hers, small grunts leaving your lips as you chased after both of your releases. She keened into your ear, walls becoming impossibly tight as she reached her second orgasm of the night. Her body arched up into yours as you plunged as deep as you could, letting yourself go with her and filling her with your seed. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, your hips still gently pumping as you weren’t quite satisfied yet. You carefully pulled out, giving your girlfriend a soft kiss before rolling her over onto her stomach and pulling her hips up, her back arched with her ass up, your favorite position to put her in.

You were soon back inside of her, easily slipping in from how wet she was. Her tight walls parted for you yet again as you invaded her, hips finding a fast and strong pace to get the mood back up. She moaned your name like a song, gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white, the overstimulation clouding her senses. You held her hips tightly, one hand releasing to spread her cheeks apart so you could spit on her tight hole, your thumb massaging the sensitive area before pushing into her.

“Fuck, babe! Babe!” Sabrina cried out, reaching back to your hand as you pounded into her, “I ca…oh god…I-I can’t!”

You grunted, skin slapping against hers as you searched for that certain spot, your hips tilted up slightly, and a smile of satisfaction graced your face when you heard her inhale sharply, “There it is.”

She called out your name yet again, ducking her head down as you repeatedly fucked into that spot. Her back arched up, her velvety walls clenching on you as her orgasm hit her harshly. You felt her start to pull away from you, but you were quick to grab her hips and pull her flush against your pelvis, giving her ass a harsh spank before giving her small thrusts to extend her release.

“Where the hell ya’ going?” You curled your thumb inside of her when she choked out a sob, her body shaking as you forced her onto your cock, “That’s right, cry on this dick.”

She cried out, her orgasm still pumping through her as you continued to pound against that sweet spot, her eyes rolling while you forced her to stay on your cock. You sighed in satisfaction, removing your thumb from her ass to grasp her hips in both hands and completely let loose on her, thrusting aggressively into her as you chased your own release. She sobbed your name, too sensitive to do anything but take each inch you gave her, mouth falling open in a cry while you ruined her. You soon reached your peak, emptying yourself into her in one full swoop. Her body shivered slightly, flinching hard when you began to remove yourself, and she promptly collapsed into the mattress as soon as you were out of her. You laughed lightly, moving her back onto her back before placing her legs on your shoulders.

“Baby~.” Sabrina whined, moaning when you entered her for the third time that morning, “…can’t feel my legs…”

You bit your lip at the sight of the large bulge in her stomach, inhaling when she yelped from your hand pressing against it. She bucked her hips up to yours, the squelching sound of her soaked cunt gaining your attention.

“You aren’t going to the studio today.” You said, picking up an easy pace as she gasped, “This pussy is too good.”

The neighbors weren’t to happy to hear the two of you all day long.

———————-

:D

[mangooes]

Right here in my arms, tonight.

April 18th. The first birthday Sylus would spend with his beloved wife, (Name). Or so he thought.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of their bedroom, casting warm golden rays across the silk sheets. Sylus stirred, white lashes fluttering open. His arm reached out instinctively for the familiar warmth beside him—but found nothing.

His crimson eyes snapped open.

“...Sweetie, (Name)?” he called out, voice rough with sleep.

Nothing.

The sheets on her side were cold. She’d been gone for a while.

Frowning, he tossed the blanket off and stalked barefoot through the penthouse, silver hair tousled from sleep. The living room? Empty. Her home office? Empty. Staryus, their Husky, merely yawned lazily from his corner as if sensing his master's growing irritation.

Then he reached the kitchen.

There on the counter was a covered plate, steam still curling from the edges, carrying the mouth-watering scent of grilled scallops—his favorite. And next to it, a little handwritten note in familiar curly handwriting.

Happy Birthday, Sysy! I had to go out of town for something important. I’ll be back in two days. I promise. Love you.

He read it twice. Thrice. Then crumpled the note with a quiet exhale as it vanished into puffs of black and red mist, lips forming a tight, flat line.

From that moment on, his mood turned sour.

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

Meetings became graveyards. Entire rooms fell silent when he entered. His answers were curt, clipped, and often laced with venom. When a new recruit accidentally spilled coffee near his files, the poor soul nearly passed out from the force of Sylus’s glare alone.

“Should’ve just executed me,” the recruit muttered as he fled.

Luke and Kieran, for once, didn’t dare tease him. They’d whispered behind closed doors:

“He’s been angry before... but this? This is another level.” “He’s scary when she’s not around... It’s like—like his entire vibe turns dark.” “We need the missus back, when is she going to finish prepping!??!”

And it was true.

He didn’t touch the scallops she had baked for him earlier. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t smile.

Not until that moment.

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

It was late evening. The final meeting of the day wrapped up, the boardroom emptied like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Sylus strode out in his black red suit, one hand in his pocket, crimson eyes glowing under the dim corridor lights.

As he stepped out into the open lot where his custom matte-black bike was usually parked—he stopped short.

Someone was already sitting on it.

Wearing his jacket. Legs crossed like royalty. Her hair spilling from under the black helmet resting on her head.

Ah his (ehm everyone's) saviour is here!

Her eyes sparkled, mischief in every line of her smirk.

“Took you long enough, birthday boy.”

For a moment, Sylus just stared.

“…You said you’d be gone for two days.” “I lied.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“To throw you off.”

“Come again, kitten?”

“To surprise you.”

His jaw clenched, still suspicious, still raw with the sting of her absence. “I’ve been—”

“Angsty? Broody? Destroying the emotional well-being of everyone in your office?” (Name) cut in casually, then winked. “Luke texted me. Said they were ready to hold a funeral if your mood didn’t improve.”

He glared. “You planned this?”

She stood from the bike slowly, hips swaying, and gently tossed him the spare helmet. “I planned everything. Now shut up, birthday boy. You’ve got five seconds to hop on before I leave you here looking like a grumpy criminal boss with abandonment issues.”

He caught the helmet easily, one brow arched.

Then, he laughed. Just a quiet exhale through his nose at first, then deeper. It was rare. Beautiful. That dangerous grin curved his lips as he walked over and swung a leg over the bike behind her.

He wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned down to whisper near her ear.

“You're lucky I love you.”

She started the engine. “I know.”

They rode off into the night, the wind tangling their hair, the city lights blurring around them in a golden rush. She didn’t tell him where they were going, but it didn’t matter. She was with him. That was all he needed.

The engine’s hum died as (Name) gently parked the bike. She parked it near the trailhead leading into the national park that lay just outside the edges of N109’s steel cityscape. The mountain air was crisp, scented with wildflowers and pine. She swung one leg over the bike and dismounted with ease.

With a smug smile tugging at her lips, (Name) stepped forward and extended her hand toward him, palm up.

“Well, birthday boy?” she quipped. “Need a hand?”

Sylus raised a brow, letting out a low, amused hum. “My, my, the kitten’s grown claws. Are you planning to carry me next?”

“Oh please, I would have died carrying you all the way to our next spot,” she quipped back, wriggling her fingers at him.

He took her hand, letting her guide him off the bike as if he were fragile porcelain. The sarcasm in his crimson gaze was palpable, but so was the adoration. Once his feet hit the ground, he leaned in, whispering beside her ear, “You sure you aren’t secretly enjoying bossing me around?”

(Name) smirked, brushing past him with a sway of her hips. “Oh, I know I am.”

Their boots crunched against gravel and soft moss as they followed a winding trail deeper into the woods, beneath arches of blooming dogwoods and fairy lights strung between trees—like someone had plucked stars from the sky and tucked them among the branches. Sylus slowed his steps, his gaze scanning the lights, the ambiance, the effort.

And then—

There it was.

A full picnic setup nestled in the clearing: a large plush blanket spread across the grass surrounded by soft lanterns, flickering candlelight, and a low basket filled to the brim with containers and covered plates. Wildflowers encircled the space in a lazy oval, painted in pastels by the twilight.

Sylus stopped walking entirely, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on his body. (Name), without breaking stride, reached back and tugged his wrist forward.

“No words, Sysy?” she teased, dragging him with surprising strength. “You’re never speechless.”

Sylus didn’t ask how she planned all this. He didn’t need to.

She just knew.

He let himself be pulled into the heart of the scene, sinking onto the blanket beside her. His red eyes flicked toward her with something bordering between affection and disbelief. “You did all this… for me?”

“No,” (Name) said deadpan, pulling open the picnic basket. “For Staryus our husky. Obviously.”

“Ah, should’ve known.” Sylus chuckled, watching her lay out each dish with care. His favorite appetizers—baked escargot and pan seared foie gras. Her famous baked scallops, and a sinful lemon tart with red wine infused ice cream on the top, a glass of gin fizz, all waiting beneath a little domed glass plate.

The aroma hit him like a love spell.

He leaned back, propping himself on one elbow. “And here I thought I was the seductive one.”

“You still are,” (Name) replied with a wink. “But I’m not too bad at seducing either. Especially when I have food as a weapon.”

Sylus laughed—a warm, rich sound that sent butterflies flitting through her stomach. Then, predictably, he leaned forward, propped an elbow on his knee, and fixed her with his best dramatic expression.

“I think I’ve worked hard enough to deserve more than just food. Spoon me,” he declared with mock arrogance.

(Name) snorted. “You want me to feed you now?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, giving her the look she couldn’t refuse.

She sighed, dramatically, then scooped a bite of the scallops and held it up to him. “Open wide, Your Highness.”

Sylus narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slowly as if to take the bite—then darted out his tongue to flick the edge of the spoon instead, causing (Name) to jolt and nearly drop it.

“SYLUS.”

“Oops,” he said innocently, lips curling. “Slipped.”

“You’re such a brat—”

Before she could yank the spoon away, Sylus caught her wrist and gently guided it back to his mouth, this time taking the bite properly. He chewed slowly, sensually, just to mess with her.

“Mmm,” he moaned dramatically, licking his lips. “Made by the hands of my darling little wife. Full of love as always.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yet adorable,” he added, reaching out to brush a crumb from her cheek. “Admit it.”

(Name) swatted his hand away, but her grin betrayed her. “Maybe. A tiny bit.”

“Too sweet, but its tolerable.” he lied testing her waters, because he knew it tasted just how he likes it, perfect.

“Like me,” she teased.

He licked the frosting from her fingers, eyes low with heat. “I don't need to confirm it right now, do I?”

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

They finished dinner slowly, laughter and flirting stretching across the night as the sky dimmed into starlight. Sylus leaned back after his last bite of lemon tart, stomach and heart both full.

Watching her with a quiet fondness. “(Name), kitten,” he said gently, the rare vulnerability in his voice making her glance over, “Thank you.”

She tilted her head, lips twitching into a soft smile. “For?”

“For this. For today. For being here with me,”

He replied.

Her chest tightened, and instead of replying, she reached over and ruffled his snow-white hair, giggling at the scowl that immediately followed.

“You’re so sappy today, Sysy.” “Birthday privilege,”

He said dryly.

Before she could escape, he pounced.

“SYLUS—!” she yelped, tumbling into a laughing mess as he tackled her into the soft field of datura flowers. They rolled together, tangled in laughter and limbs, until she ended up straddling him, flushed and breathless.

He was still grinning up at her, eyes gleaming with mischief.

His mischivious sweet kitten, ever the chaotic wife, plucked a datura bloom from beside them and tucked it behind Sylus’s ear, then added a second into his hair. The third bloom placed, laying on his chest.

“There,” she said smugly. “Now you’re the prettiest birthday boy in all of N109.”

He growled softly, reaching up and dragging her down until their noses brushed. “You’re asking for trouble, kitten.”

They both burst into laughter, falling side by side on the flower bed, gazing up at the stars. Silence stretched for a few moments, only the whisper of leaves and the distant hum of the city below.

A sudden streak of light crossed the sky—a shooting star, fast and fleeting.

(Name) gasped. “Quick, make a wish!”

Sylus didn’t take his eyes off her.

“I already have what I want, I just wish for it to last forever.”

Her breath caught. “Sylus…?”

He reached up, cradling her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted every terrifying rumor about him.

"Well if you insist on making me spell it out loud, it would be my pleasure," he continued.

His thumb brushed her skin, voice low and reverent.

“My wish is that you stay with me. Forever.”

Then he pulled her down gently, pressing a kiss to her lips—slow, deep, the kind of kiss that writes poetry into bones and carves devotion into stars.

“Happy birthday, Sylus,” she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head, as the icing on his birthday cake, a quiet confession.

“You being here is the only gift I ever wanted.”

The fairy lights danced around them. The datura flowers swayed, as the wind blew, carrying its petals away. The stars aligned—not in the sky, but in Sylus’s arms, where his world began and ended.

With (Name).

His wife, his kitten, his sweetie, his soul, his heart, all his. Always her. Always.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SYLUS ASKJDNASKDANKDA this was the longest story scenario i had written in ages ?!?!?! i think this is like 2000 words or sum or what. This is my present for Sylus! Happy Birthday Sysy <3 Love u mwah (I legit stayed up till 12 just to sing him happy brthday)

[rosones]

social media au - being an actress dating choi seunghyun pt. 6

liked by y/n, & 2,484,212 others

ttt ✓ - more to come

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user - he gives 2016 tumblr vibes sooooo much

user - he NEEDS to post more selfies

user - my husband fr

user - maybe babygirl is a 37 year old Korean man named choi seunghyun

y/n ✓ - mr yummy

liked by author

liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, & 6,381,798 others

ttt ✓ - EXILE , THE ALBUM . 5.5.25

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user - we are SO back

userlikesphotography231 - is this a drawing of y/n??

user - /@userlikesphotography231 considering the gorgeous silhouette + the fact that Top is obsessed with her, most likely is her lol

xxxibgdrgn ✓ - so happy for you, my brother 🤍🌼

ttt ✓ - /@xxxibgdrgn 🤍🤍🤍

user - so fucking excited for his comeback

user - as a VIP, I used to pray for times like this 🥹

user - already album of the year and it ain’t even out yet

liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, gq, & 7,342,447 others

ttt ✓ - Vogue Korea

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user - he’s SO fine

user - y/n better share him

y/n ✓ - MY man

liked by author

user - this made my hole weak

user - jawline sculpted by the gods

the following article was written by journalist Kim Do-Yun & published by Vogue Korea .

T.O.P Returns: A Candid Conversation on Redemption, Love, and ‘Exile’

By: Kim Do-Yun

Choi Seung-hyun—better known as T.O.P. for years, was one of K-pop’s most enigmatic figures: a deep-voiced rapper, a captivating performer, an artist who thrived in mystery. But mystery turned to scandal when his 2017 marijuana case sent shockwaves through South Korea’s entertainment industry. The fallout was brutal, the silence that followed even more so.

Now, after years spent in near-complete solitude, he’s back—not just with music, but with acting, love, and a newfound perspective on life.

Throughout my interview with him, he exuded a quiet confidence, different from the playful arrogance he once carried as a member of BIGBANG. He has always been measured in his words, but that day, there was something more—an openness, a willingness to be seen for who he truly is, not just who the public wants him to be.

Facing the Shadows

“I won’t pretend it was easy,” he admitted. “There was a time when I thought I might never return to music or acting. I felt like I had lost the right to stand in front of people again.”

Following the scandal, T.O.P withdrew almost entirely from the entertainment world. There were sporadic updates—glimpses of his art collection, a few cryptic Instagram posts—but nothing substantial.

“I needed time,” he said simply. “Time to understand my own mind, my mistakes, and what I wanted from life. I spent years writing & making music with no intention of releasing it. It was a way of surviving, I think. But at some point, I realized I didn’t just want to create in the shadows anymore.”

That realization birthed his upcoming album, Exile, a deeply personal project that delves into themes of isolation, redemption, and transformation.

The Concept Behind Exile

“I see Exile as a letter to my past self,” he explained. “It’s about being cast out—sometimes by others, but more often by yourself. It’s about wandering, finding meaning in solitude, and ultimately, choosing to return.”

The album is a drastic departure from his earlier work, blending experimental hip-hop and jazz influences. The soundscape is layered, atmospheric—reflecting the emotional depth of a man who has lived through both adoration and condemnation.

“There’s pain in the music, but there’s also hope,” he continued. “It’s not just about suffering—it’s about what comes after. How do you rebuild yourself when the world thinks you’ve already fallen?”

The lead single, Ashes, encapsulates this journey. “It’s about burning down what no longer serves you and rising from it,” he explained. “Not in a dramatic way—no big explosion. Just embers, slow and steady, turning into something new.”

Reclaiming His Place in Acting: ‘Squid Game’ and Thanos

But music isn’t the only thing marking T.O.P’s return. His casting in Netflix’s Squid Game Season 2 sent fans into a frenzy, a bold choice for an artist who had stayed away from the spotlight for so long.

“I never thought I’d act again,” he admitted. “I had offers over the years, but I wasn’t ready. Then I read the script for Squid Game 2, and something in me woke up. It was exactly the kind of story I wanted to tell.”

In the highly anticipated sequel to the global phenomenon, T.O.P plays Thanos, a complex and ruthless figure within the deadly games. Unlike the participants struggling to survive, Thanos is a former winner—one who chose to return.

“He’s not a traditional villain,” T.O.P clarified. “He’s someone who understands the system better than anyone else. He’s cold, calculating, but not without emotion. He knows what it takes to survive, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes—not for money, but for something deeper. Something he lost.”

The role demanded an emotional transformation. “The hardest part was getting into his mindset. Thanos isn’t just playing the game—he’s manipulating it. He’s someone who has seen too much, lost too much.”

The weight of the character stayed with him long after filming wrapped. “I think I related to him more than I expected,” he admitted. “Not in his actions, but in his solitude. In that feeling of being outside of everything, even when you’re in the center of it.”

Love & Chaos

It was on the Squid Game set that T.O.P met someone who would change everything—his co-star, Y/N. Their connection, first built through long filming days, soon grew into something deeper.

“She saw me for who I was, not just who the world made me out to be,” he said, a softness in his voice. “There’s something freeing about that—being with someone who knows both your darkness and your light and chooses to stay anyway.”

For someone who spent so long rebuilding himself alone, letting someone in was no easy task. “I used to think love was another thing I had lost the right to,” he confessed. “But she changed that.”

Their relationship became public in a way that no one expected—through a series of intimate photos posted on Instagram. They felt raw, real, and unlike other polished celebrity relationships.

“I was nervous,” T.O.P admitted. “Not because I was ashamed—but because I knew how people might react. I knew what it meant to expose something so personal in a place where people think they have the right to dissect every part of your life.”

Y/N, however, had a different perspective. “She told me, ‘Why should we hide something that makes us happy?’ And she was right,” he said. “For so long, I lived in fear of what people would say. But love isn’t something to be ashamed of. If anything, it’s something to be proud of.”

Now, with both Exile and Squid Game, their love story is no longer a secret—but he’s still extremely protective of it. “I don’t need people to approve,” he said. “I just need her.”

Looking Ahead

As our conversation started nearing its end, I asked him what he hoped people will take away from his return.

“I don’t expect everyone to forgive me, and I don’t expect to go back to who I was before. That person is gone,” he said. “But I hope people will listen. Not just to the music, but to the story behind it. I hope they see that exile isn’t the end—it’s just another beginning.”

With Exile set to drop and his acting career reignited, T.O.P is stepping into the spotlight once again—not as the idol he once was, but as an artist and a man who has found his way back from the shadows.

——————————————————————————————————

I wanted to write that little article portion because I wanted to add something unique to this fic, this part is also why I took a little long to post something new !! I haven’t written like an actual piece of writing on this account so I’m like excited and nervous at the same time lol. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it !! xx

[obsesssedblerd]

PLS PLS PLS DO A FIC WHERE GOJO AND Y/N ADOPT THE FIRST YEARS BASED ON THAT SMAU PLSSSSSSS

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! oh, i've been dying to write this one!

Filling the Empty Spaces 

Synopsis: You always thought that the house that you and your new husband, Satoru, lived in was way too big. One night after a rough mission, the both of you decide to keep an eye on Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara as they recover. You grow to love their company, and realize that they fit so perfectly not just in your house, but also your life.

Wc: 5.1k

Contains: teeth-rotting fluff, soft husband! gojo, yuuji no longer being sukuna’s vessel, gojo and reader are married, reader has a technique but it’s not explained, reader used to be a teacher but quit, gojo and reader adopting the first years, only a dash of angst, pregnancy (but only at the end), some suggestiveness but no smut, everyone is happy bc i said so. (gege don’t ever let me catch you)

a/n: this has to be the sweetest thing i’ve ever written in my life lol. also this is barely proof-read, so sorry for any mistakes!

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Even with all of yours and Satoru’s belongings, the house that was left for him was still insanely huge. Your footsteps echo in the hallway as you mentally count the empty spaces. Three empty bedrooms, three empty bathrooms, another large room that could be considered a second living room. You knew it was big; Satoru said it was prior to you two getting married and moving in, but you wondered if you’d ever get used to having that much extra space. 

“Oh, wifeyyyy,” Satoru calls out to you in his usual, sing-songy tone, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. “Where are you?” 

“Near the kitchen!” You call back to him. 

Your tall and handsome husband appears not even a minute later. The corner of his mouth pulls upwards into a smirk as he sees you sitting on the counter of the kitchen island. “Well, hello there, Mrs. Gojo.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you cast your eyes downward. “It’s gonna take a while before I get used to that.” You smile and lift up your left hand, allowing the gorgeous diamond on your fourth finger to glimmer in the sunlight that filled the space. “I still can’t believe it.” 

Satoru steps in front of you and grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a small kiss on your palm. “Believe it, pretty girl,” he says, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. He takes your other hand, then tugs upward so your arms are around his neck, his own hands settling on your hips. Your fingers brush against his undercut, then play with his soft white hair. “After all.” His voice dips to a sensual purr as his face inches closer. “I did tell you that I was going to make you my wife, didn’t I?” 

He kisses you, and you sigh blissfully into his mouth as your eyes shut. Despite being practically glued to him during your two-week honeymoon on a beautiful island, you still craved him. His hand barely slides underneath your shirt before his phone starts ringing. He groans, and you giggle as he pulls away and grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Work?” You ask. 

“Work. However, it’s Yuuji, not Yaga.” Satoru answers and begins talking while you hop off of the counter and decide to make both of you some tea. It wouldn’t be long before the sun begins to set, so you start thinking about what to make for dinner. 

You look over to see Satoru’s brows furrowed. “Ah, I see,” he said to Yuuji on the other line. “Well, good to hear that you made it back to the school safely. Are you three alright? Megumi went to see Shoko for that injury?” 

That worries you. From the sound of it, the first years went on another dangerous mission this afternoon. You knew that Kento Nanami was watching them, but with three students and dangerous curses, anything could happen. “I think I’ve come across a curse like that before,” Satoru says. “You get sick only after it hits you with that goo. Since you and Nobara only got a bit of it on you, you won’t die. However, it still concerns me. One second, okay?” 

He tilts the phone away from him and turns to look at you. “Megumi got injured. Shoko healed him but needs to rest for at least a few days. Yuuji and Nobara might also become sick.”

Your heart sinks. Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara were just kids. You remember battling curses as a teen alongside Satoru and Suguru Geto before he became a curse-user, but becoming an adult and watching the next generation of students throw themselves into battle gave you an entirely different feeling. Around two months ago, Yuuji officially separated from Ryomen Sukuna and was freed from the burden of being his vessel; but you were getting a feeling that he still wanted to prove himself as a sorcerer by going on tough missions, all so he could stay around. 

“They’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on them for a while. Everyone else at the school is busy,” you say, and Satoru nods. You pause on making the tea, then make a decision. “Alright, have Ichiji bring them here. We have plenty of space, as you can see, and I can help them out while you’re at work over the next few days.” 

After all, the first years didn’t have anyone else. 

Satoru kisses your forehead, then tells Yuuji the plan. Meanwhile, you double-check the three empty rooms and bathrooms. Each of them had freshly made beds, clean bathrooms and some decorative furniture—thanks to the housekeeping that maintained this house before you and Satoru moved in. 

While you were thinking hard about some extra items that you didn’t have, Satoru comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, which immediately slump under his touch. You sigh as he rubs the tension from them. “Baby, whatever we don’t have, and they need it, we can just buy it. Yuuji’s telling them to pack enough clothes for a while. Just relax. It’ll be okay.” 

Right. It’ll be fine. 

— — — — —

When Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara arrive, your face splits into a wide smile. You haven’t seen them since you and Satoru got married. A rush of movement, and the pink-haired teenager is hugging you tight, excitedly rambling about how much he missed you. The brown-haired girl is next, and Nobara literally squeals as she hugs you. Finally, the dark-haired teen, who is much calmer than his fellow first years. However, he doesn’t shy away when you hug him gently—being careful not to touch his side that was injured in battle—and he mumbles that it’s good to see you. 

“Wow, this house is huge!” Nobara exclaims as she wanders around the kitchen, then the living room. 

As always, Yuuji matches her high energy. “No kidding. There’s like a million rooms in this place!” 

Satoru chuckles. He was dressed in his usual uniform and blindfold, leaning against the wall of the living room with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m glad you like it. This place was left for me. I knew that I wanted to move in here only if I got married. For a while, I thought I’d never touch it. Then I met that lovely sorcerer over there.” 

Your cheeks heat, and the students ‘aw’ over his words. The oven dings, and you spring up. “Great, dinner’s done. Give me some time to set up.” 

Satoru and Nobara sit with Megumi on the couch in the living room to watch TV, and Yuuji follows you to help set the table in the dining room. “You don’t want to go sit down?” You ask, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

“It’s okay, I wanna help. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I missed talking with you.” 

Your heart swells. You pass him some plates and some silverware, and he stacks it so he can take it to the table. “How are you holding up?” You ask as you pull the food you prepared out of the oven. 

“Doing good. It definitely feels nice not having his voice in my head anymore,” he says from the dining room, neatly arranging the dishes. Five plates, five glasses, five sets of silverware. “Or worrying about him taking my body at any second. Just knowing that no one has to deal with him ever again brings me so much peace.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” You take off of your oven mitts and walk towards him. “So is Satoru and the rest of your teachers, and so is your grandfather. He’d be happy knowing that you’re still helping people by fighting curses.” 

That makes Yuuji pause. His smile is still there, but it wobbles at the corners. He turns away from you to hide his face, but the tremble in his shoulders is impossible for him to conceal. “Yuuji,” you call softly, and he sniffles, still turned around. Your heart aches, and you pull him to you. He immediately wraps his arms around you as his head settles onto your chest, his body shaking as he sobs quietly. You were thankful that the TV was on in the living room so he could have this moment privately. 

“It’s okay to cry,” you whisper as you stroke his hair. “Everything’s alright. You’re brave, but it’s okay to break down, too.” 

“Only reason I‘m alive is because you and Gojo-sensei fought against my execution.” He uses a sleeve of his jacket to wipe his tears. “I’ll be honest. There were so many times where I thought I wasn’t going to make it, or if it would be impossible to be separated from Sukuna without hurting anyone else. But you two had so much hope for me, and it pushed me to keep fighting.” 

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them back. “I’ll always fight for you, you hear me?” Yuuji nods, and you let him hug you for as long as you like. 

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru watches you both from the living room with a gentle smile. 

— — — — — 

Dinner is filled with fun stories, jokes, and plenty of laughter. Once everyone has finished eating, Satoru and Yuuji do the dishes while you and Nobara help Megumi into one of the spare rooms after his shower. 

“The bed’s super comfortable,” Megumi says, not fighting a single bit when you cover him with the blanket. “Thank you.” 

“You better get some rest, Fushiguro,” Nobara says seriously as she crosses her arms. “Shoko said four days.” 

“She’s right,” Yuuji comments as he walks into the room, sitting next to her on the edge of Megumi’s bed. “Not a single hour before.” 

Megumi frowns. “You both are being dramatic.”

“Look, if Kugisaki and I have to lock you in here so you can rest, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.” 

“Yup!” Nobara agrees with her usual grin, popping the p for extra dramatics. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll just call the Gojos. Do you really want to get lectured by them?” 

That makes you laugh. “Alright, you two, I think he gets it.” You gently fix Megumi’s hair—noting that his eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion—then stand up. “Besides, you both might also be on bedrest. You did get hit by that curse earlier, and Satoru said that the effects won’t kick in until tomorrow. So it’s important that you two get plenty of sleep as well.” 

Yuuji and Nobara say goodnight to Megumi, then the three of you leave his room. You decide to take your shower, making a mental list of groceries to buy for tomorrow now that the first years were staying with you for a few days. When you exit the bathroom in some sleepwear, you hear quiet giggling and snickering coming from the kitchen. You scoff, put on your house slippers and go investigate. 

First, you see your husband’s white hair in the dimly-lit kitchen. You flip on the light switch, and burst out laughing at the sight. Satoru, Yuuji, and Nobara were stuffing their faces with cupcakes, all dressed in their pajamas. They were Satoru’s favorite, and he requested them from you every chance he got. “Now, what is going on here?” You ask. 

“His idea,” Nobara attempts to mumble with her mouth full as she points at Satoru. Yuuji immediately nods in agreement and also points at his teacher. Satoru only shrugs with his usual smile, using a thumb to wipe away the blue icing on his lips before licking it clean. Then he offers you one. “Here, have one. They’re delicious.” 

“No, silly, it’s late.” You put the cupcake back in its container, then hand the two teens a napkin. “And you two should be getting some rest. Megumi’s already fast asleep.” 

Surprisingly, they don’t put up a fight. You happily do skincare with Nobara in the bathroom of the bedroom that she was using, and you both make plans to go shopping for some face masks once they’re all feeling better. When she finishes moisturizing her face, she gives you another hug. “Missed you,” she mumbles into your shoulder. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” you sigh as you return the hug. “I’ve missed you as well. Was it a long few weeks for you?” 

“Well, kinda,” she says as she pulls away, then goes to sit on her bed. “I know you and Gojo-sensei were on your honeymoon, and we expected that, but we’re all just getting used to the fact that you’ve officially quit working at the school. We support it, but it sucks knowing that we’re not going to see you as much.” 

The thinly-veiled sadness in her eyes makes your gut twist. Of course they were going to miss you. You saw them and worked with them every single day. “Nobara, I’m always going to be here for you. Just because I no longer work there, that doesn’t mean I still can’t visit or even help out with you three.” 

Nobara rests her head on your shoulder, and you rub a comforting hand up and down her back. “Promise?” she asks quietly. 

“I promise.” 

When she goes to bed, you leave her room and shut the door behind you. Finally, you walk to Yuuji’s room, which is still lit up. You get to the doorway, and you hide a laugh when you see that he fell asleep almost immediately after laying down. More than likely got more comfortable than he thought when he tested the bed. You adjust the pillow so it’s under his head, pull the blanket over his body, mess with his hair once more, then switch the lamp off so he can rest. You leave, then shut the door. 

“They all fell asleep so quickly,” you say to Satoru once you walk into your spacious, shared bedroom. You climb into bed next to him, sighing when you feel the soft, silk sheets against your skin. Like every night, he tugs you into his large, muscular arms, and you rest your head against his chest. 

This was your favorite spot to be; in the arms of the strongest, most powerful man in the whole world. Satoru was protective in every sense of the word. Nothing would ever happen to you as long as you were with him. 

“I’m certain that those rooms are much more comfortable than the dorms at the school,” he says. You feel his hand rubbing soothing patterns against your arm. “So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?” 

“Keeping an eye on them. I’m almost one hundred percent positive that they’re all going to be sleeping most of the day.” You then press a kiss against Satoru’s jaw. “And when you get home from work tomorrow, I expect you to rest, too. I know you’re dealing with the higher-ups.” 

“Eh, who cares about them?” Satoru scoffs. “I tune them out.” 

“Yeah, you really gotta stop doing that.” 

— — — — — — — — 

Your morning starts early. You’re barely awake when you feel Satoru kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear that he loves you and that he’ll see you after work. You sleep for about another half-hour, then decide to get up. After brushing your teeth, you walk down the hallway leading to the kitchen. The sun is already shining through the large windows of the sunroom, and you pause in your tracks when you see Megumi, silently reading one of the many books you kept in there. 

He’s sitting on a bean bag chair towards the corner of the room, and you notice two more books on the ground next to him. When he sees you staring, he sits up and shuts the book. “Sorry.” The apology comes out in a faint, yet frantic rush. “I-I was just curious, and I’ve never seen a huge collection like this, and—” 

“Megumi.” Your soft voice stops him, and his shoulders slump in relief when he sees you smile and sit in the bean bag chair adjacent to his. “It’s alright. Books are meant to be read. I’m just happy you found this room. I thought you might like it.” 

“It’s so peaceful here,” he comments as he looks around slowly, taking in the beauty of your favorite room in the house. One wall is lined with books, neatly organized on floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall shelves. There is also a tall ladder that slides smoothly across the shelves, which aids you whenever a book is placed far too high. The rest of the room is filled with bean bag chairs, plants, and a few small, decorative statues. 

You tilt your head to get a closer look at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?” 

“A sci-fi,” he says, “I’ve kind of been interested in them since watching Human Earthworm with Itadori.” 

“Ah.” You stand up, drag the ladder towards the middle of the shelves, then climb up to retrieve a duology. “I think you’ll like this series, then. In addition to the books you also have with you.” 

Megumi rubs the back of his head bashfully. “I hope I’ll have enough time to get through these,” he says, then yawns. “And energy. Still tired even though I slept for a while.” 

“Your body needs rest, and it’s okay. You can keep the books until you’re finished. Take your time.” 

Megumi smiles at that. It’s small, but it’s there, and you love it. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

— — — — — — 

Like you expected, Yuuji and Nobara weren’t feeling good that morning. They had some body aches, chills and a light cough. Luckily, they had you to look after them. You prepared soup for the three of them, and you made sure they were comfortable and hydrated. When Satoru returned from work, he gave all three of them medicine to help with any pain. The both of you kept an eye on them as they slept. 

Over the next few days, they were all feeling better, however, both you and Satoru kept making excuses to keep them for another day. What if their cold comes back? Or, Maybe Shoko miscalculated and Megumi needed a few more days to fully recover?

Even when the first years were well enough to start going on missions again, Satoru had made it a habit to bring them back with him at the end of the day. You’ve also made new habits since the first years entered your home. Every morning, you would make breakfast for everyone to enjoy at the table. You loved seeing Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s smiles, or hearing them groan whenever Satoru made a joke that was just a little too cheesy. And their hugs. Oh, you loved their hugs. You hugged them before they went off to jujutsu high with Satoru each morning, and you hugged them each night before bed. 

After about six weeks, you were so used to them being over every night; so much to the point that you and Satoru stared at Yuuji in confusion when he asked if you were tired of them. Both of you had never said, “No,” so fast in your lives.

Not only were you used to it, you loved it. You loved sitting quietly in the sunroom with Megumi, enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective books. You loved listening to Yuuji’s wild stories about his epic adventures as a sorcerer, even better when Satoru joined in and helped him with the dramatics. You loved doing face masks and painting your nails with Nobara. You were pretty sure you spent up to a few hours each week in the bathroom with her, laughing joyfully and listening to music as you played around with cosmetics. 

You loved movie nights with the five of you sitting together on the couch, passing popcorn and other treats amongst each other. You loved it when each of the teens came to you about what was bothering them. By the second month, all of them had trusted you enough to cry around you. You loved comforting them—being a sorcerer is hard and gruesome, and anyone would need support. You loved holding them, wiping their tears, and feeling them settle when you reassure them that you and Satoru would keep them safe. You loved seeing them play silly games in the spacious backyard. Sometimes, you and Satoru joined them so you could have fun with them. 

Before any one of you knew it, five months of this had passed. 

At that point, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s dorms back at the school were practically deserted, and the once-empty guest bedrooms of yours and Satoru’s home were filled with their belongings. Clothes, shoes, books, posters, souvenirs, trinkets, and photographs. You and your husband never did hold back when it came to spoiling them, whether with materials or experiences. You had noticed that the three of them were glowing. Louder laughs, smiles that reach their eyes, sleeping better, feeling more comfortable, and overall, looking much happier. 

“They feel loved,” Nanami had told you once you explained it to him on a day you went to visit the school. “Everyone glows when they feel loved.” 

— — — — — 

“We should adopt them.” 

At Satoru’s words, you look up from your book to face him. He’s laying down in your shared bed, facing the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. It is nearly midnight, and you are the only ones awake in the house. “Really?” You ask, unable to hide your smile. You shut your book and put it on the bedside table. This was a conversation that you’ve been hoping to have for a while. Finally, you’re talking about adopting those three and officially having them as your kids.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he sits up. “I like having them here, and I can tell that you do, too. I can also tell that they like being here. They’re much more relaxed. Yuuji and Nobara are sleeping so much better, and plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Megumi smile so much.” 

“I love having them here,” you say. You reach for his hand, and he clasps it with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I don’t want them to ever go back to that school. They’re so happy here. I want to keep them happy. Besides, if we adopt them, I’m pretty sure that would keep the higher-ups from deciding to toss them into reckless missions simply because they have no legal guardian. They’d have to go through us first, right?” 

“They’d have to go through us first regardless.” Satoru then chuckles. “Have you been wanting to talk about adopting them, pretty girl? You seem like you’ve put so much thought into this.”

“You have no idea.” 

“I wish you said something sooner. Honestly, we could’ve done this a few months ago.” 

You kiss his cheek, then rest your chin on his shoulder. “Well,” you start, “I remember you saying that you were hesitant about starting a family towards the beginning of our relationship a few years back. I didn’t know if your mind had changed or not. Adopting three teenagers falls into that category.” 

“Ah, so that’s why you never talked about it recently,” he says with a thoughtful hum. “Before we got together, I didn’t know how I felt about having a family, simply because I got to a point where I could never see myself having such a thing. But, then I fell in love with you, and in love with life with you. I’d love to start a family with you.” He kisses your hand, then continues, “And I’m not just talking about adopting Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara.”

You gasp lightly, and your heart begins to race in excitement. You lift your head, then turn your body so you’re directly in front of him. “Satoru.” Your voice comes out in a barely-audible whisper. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

Gentleness glimmers in his blue eyes, and he uses a hand to stroke your cheek. You instinctively lean into the touch, and his thumb wipes away the tear that barely slides from the corner of your eye. “If you want to,” he starts, “and if you’re ready, I’d love to have a baby with you.” 

You think you’re dreaming. You feel like your body’s about to explode. It takes everything not to squeal loudly and wake up the teens. You smile and nod, wiping away the tears of joy before they blur your vision any further. “I’d love that, too.” 

Satoru leans in and kisses you. It’s slow, loving and so very gentle. He slightly trembles, and you open your eyes to see that he was also tearing up from the happiness. “I love you.” His voice is low, yet shaky. “I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you again, then moves from your mouth, slowly down your neck. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” He gently pushes you back against the sheets, and you sigh as his hands trail down your body. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“All five of you.” 

— — — — — 

“So, you wanted to talk with us?” Yuuji asks. 

You, Satoru, and the teens all sit on the luxurious couch in the living room the next morning. Since there’s no missions for them, they get to relax at home. All three of them were still cozy in their pajamas, and they finished eating their breakfast not too long ago. 

“Yes,” you say as you sit up. “So, it’s been five months of you all staying here.” 

At once, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara stiffen, then share grim looks with each other. It confuses you, and before you can ask about it, Nobara sits up. She gulps hard, and you know from her staying with you for so long that it’s because she’s trying to choke back tears so they wouldn’t form in her eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, “we understand. We knew that this would be a temporary thing.” 

“Huh?” Satoru asks, also confused. You can tell that his brows are furrowed underneath his blindfold. “What’re you—” 

“I mean, five months is a lot. We get it. You didn’t have to keep us for this long, but you did. Thank you,” Megumi says. 

Yuuji nods with a smile, but you know it’s a fake one. It makes your heart ache. “Just know that we’re extremely grateful for everything.” 

“Every last bit of it. Thank you so much,” Nobara chimes in. 

“Okay, all of you, stop.” Your voice is firm, and it silences them all at once. Megumi is facing the ground to hide his face, Yuuji’s fake smile fades as he casts his eyes downward, and Nobara looks over at the wall, nervously chewing at her lip. “This isn’t what you think it is. Satoru and I don’t want you three to leave.” 

Now it’s their turn to look confused. However, they’re all finally looking directly at you, and that makes you feel a little bit better. “We were going to ask if you’d like to make it permanent, because we’d love to adopt you three.” 

They gasp, and their eyes widen in shock. It’s silent for a few beats, then Nobara faintly asks, “...What?” 

Satoru chuckles, then claps his hands together once. “Aw, c’mon, Nobara! Surely, you know what ‘permanent’ means!” You roll your eyes. Adding humor to make a situation less tense was such a Satoru Gojo thing to do.

The teens still look in shock. “So…” Megumi starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’d be our parents?” 

“Yes,” you reply with a smile. 

Nobara sniffles, and you look over at her to see that she’s no longer holding back her tears. “And- And we’d be your kids?” Her voice is also quiet. Yuuji, on the other hand, is much louder with his question. “And these two would be my siblings?!” 

You giggle, then nod again. “Yes, one hundred percent yes. I know it’s sudden, and if you all need time to think about it—” 

“Yes!!” Nobara practically screams, then runs over to hug you and Satoru as she begins sobbing. A split second later, Yuuji is there too, also hugging you tight. Megumi joins last, and the five of you remain there, embracing each other. Embracing your husband, your two new sons and your new daughter. Your eyes shut as you laugh with joy, unaware of your own tears. 

— — — — — — 

Six months later 

“So yeah, that’s the story of how Mom and Dad adopted us,” Yuuji concludes, then places his hand against your swollen tummy. “Pretty cool, right?” 

As if responding, ‘Yes,’ the baby within you gently kicks. “Ha!” Yuuji exclaims excitedly, then grins over at Megumi and Nobara. “I told you that they like my voice!” 

Nobara rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Yuuji, they like all of our voices, but they like mine the most.” Now she puts her hand against your stomach, leaning close so the baby could hear her better. “Right, sweets? Isn’t your big sister your favorite sibling?” 

Two light kicks. Yuuji gasps in surprise while Nobara cackles victoriously. Megumi scoffs at their foolishness, and you laugh. 

“I won’t lie though,” Megumi says. “I’m curious about what technique they’re going to have.” 

“Yeah, will it be Mom’s or Dad’s?” Yuuji asks. 

You shrug. “We don’t know yet.” 

The front door opens, and you hear Satoru call out, “I’m home!” as he walks towards the living room where all of you were sitting. Like every day, he gives Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara hugs as he asks about their days, then comes to you. He kisses your forehead, then your tummy. “Hey, little one,” he quietly coos. “Hope you didn’t give mama too much trouble today.” 

“No vomiting today, so, yeah, they did pretty good.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Missed you today. How was work?” 

“Yeah, how was work?” Nobara asks excitedly. “Any special grade curses?” 

“Eh, nothing like that today,” Satoru says as he sits in between you and Megumi, ruffling the boy’s hair. “However, the second years are starting to plan a surprise party for Okkotsu’s birthday. I passed the word to the rest of the staff, and now I’m letting you all know about it.” 

Megumi nods as he settles back into the comfortable couch cushion. “Inumaki did text me about that earlier.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Yuuji exclaims. 

“Yeah, as long as we don’t leave you in charge of handling the cake like we did for Nanamin’s birthday last year, since you like to drop them,” Nobara scoffs. 

“Oh, come on! That was one time!” 

Megumi tsks, and shakes his head. “One time is too many.” 

As they playfully squabble, you and Satoru watch them with soft smiles. His blindfold was lowered, so you got to see the pure love and happiness in his eyes. He finally has the family that he once dreamed of as a child. You lean on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek. 

Finally, your house was full, and so was your heart.

[lunarlando]

Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx

Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼

so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x

feel free to request more :)

“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.” 

“And yet, here you are.” 

Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids. 

Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse? 

“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want. 

All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world. 

You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling. 

“When are all the little rascals coming over?” 

You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.” 

“Pietra’s not coming round?” 

“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?” 

Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.” 

“You love me.” 

“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases. 

“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.” 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.

Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words. 

He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for. 

You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband. 

“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly. 

“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice. 

“I can’t find my race car pajamas!” 

“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?” 

You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?” 

“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”

“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out. 

“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in). 

You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold. 

Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando. 

—

“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down. 

The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it. 

You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.” 

“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”

“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. 

“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.

You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max. 

“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.” 

“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch. 

“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual. 

“You and dad had a sleepover?” 

Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?” 

“What, Uncle Lando?” 

“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?” 

Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself. 

Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right. 

Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now. 

You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.

“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?” 

“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.” 

Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier. 

“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently. 

“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that. 

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?” 

“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt. 

“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?” 

“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face.  “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?” 

Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.” 

“I do too.”

“Are we really ready to have three kids?” 

“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?” 

That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!” 

[rubiehart]

when leopard!reader realises what a mess the twinkie is, she decides to give it a little spritz-up.

she runs a black acrylic tipped finger along the bumper of the twinkie, a streak of colour trailing through the dull coat of dirt that had built up as she grimaces, the van swaying as the rest of the gang hop out of the rustbucket. she wipes the grub on her denim shorts casually and turns towards him.

“jesus, john b. when was the last time you cleaned this?” she calls to him, hand shielding her eyes as she squints towards the sun, watching as john b and jj continue towards the chateau, stomping the dead grass as kie and pope follow not too far behind.

“ew.” kie comments off handedly, face scrunching up in disgust as she notices the state of it. “uh, few months back?” john b calls back nonchalantly, ignoring jj’s comment of “dude, more like a ‘few years’.”

“haven’t had time to get ‘round to it yet.” he shrugs, spinning back around and traipsing up the wooden steps with the two other pogue boys on his trail. she rolls her eyes, plan already forming in her head as she slings her backpack over her shoulder and jogs to catch up with kie.

half an hour or so later, the boys are lounging on the porch with some beers, the early evening sunset casting a comfortable and calm energy over the group, so mellow they hadn’t even really noticed the absence of the girls until now.

the sloshing of water and grunts of struggle are heard before they’re seen, emerging from around the back of the chateau with buckets filled with water, adorned in the tiniest bikini the boys had possibly ever seen.

“this is gonna be a job n’ a half.” she sighs, panting as she places two heavy buckets on the ground next to the van, kie nodding along with her, hands on her hips as she catches her breath.

“oh my god john b, how do you even let it get this bad?” kie mumbles as she unravels the hose from the tap at the side of the house, both girls not picking up on all three boys stunned expressions.

“what’s goin’ on here?” john b drawls with a lazy smirk, eyes shamelessly trained on the both of them as the other two ogle in silence.

“what’s it look like, douchebag?” she sighs, grabbing the hose from kie and beginning to hose down the roof as kie goes for the sponges and soap.

“looks like you’re washing the twinkie.” pope answers for you dumbly, eyes wide and cheeks noticeably flushed as he stares straight ahead at the van. both of your eyebrows furrow in confusion but neither of you comment, focusing on sudding up the sponges in your grip.

jj chuckles dryly, taking a long swig of his beer, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands behind head. “sit back and enjoy the show, bro.” he grins, giving pope a brotherly pat on the shoulder, a silent plea to get him to ease up a little, eyes still ogling your ass as you scrub at a particularly stubborn spot.

“see the shit we do for you, john b?” you sigh, walking around to the bonnet as you dip your sponge into the bucket of water, tits almost spilling out of the thin material as you scrub at the volkswagen symbol until you can see your face in it.

“actively seein’ it.” he nods flirting, causing you to look at him with a sideways smirk, flipping all three boys off collectively when jj playfully lets out a low whistle. “you’re such pervs.” kie sighs, crouched down as she scrubs at the metal above the wheels, eyes flicking from your smooth thighs to the van.

of course you knew they were loving it, but you loved the chase, even if you’d never admit it. so of course you continued, noticing every little look from kiara, every time jj adjusted the way he was sitting, every time pope cleared his throat nervously, and every time you caught john b shamelessly ogling when he thought you weren’t looking.

so, yeah. sudding up your tits and shaking your body a little exaggeratedly to get a rise out of them wasn’t exactly accidental. after all, little teasing never hurt nobody.

[mariasont]

Date Night - A.H

a/n: i have been so obsessed with the nanny recently so this is kind of based off that

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

summary: you get home from the world's worst date

warnings: none i think, IDK IM SO BAD AT THESE

wc: 0.9k

To put it quite frankly your date sucked. He was disrespectful to the waiter, made really unsettling noises while eating, talked incessantly about his ex, and worst of all, he didn't let you get a word in edge wise (a major issue because you really like to talk).

Saying you were disappointed would barely scratch the surface. The rarity of your dates, thanks to your demanding role as a live-in nanny for Viriginia's most occupied FBI agent, made your free time all too precious. Mr. Hotchner was home this weekend, which granted you some time off, well-deserved you might add, but you had wasted it on some sad excuse of a man who made you believe that chivalry really was dead.

You had a clear mission when you entered the house: to drown the evening's disappointment in a generous pour of red, slip into your comfiest pajamas, and indulge in trashy reality TV, which, by comparison, casted your night in a much more flattering light. You were beginning to accept that maybe, you were meant to be alone, only because men sucked.

You all but threw your jacket into the closet, kicking off the pumps that had spent the night punishing your heels, and bent to rub the throbbing pain, releasing a sigh steeped in disappointment.

"You're home early."

Your heart leapt to your throat, hand flying to your chest on reflex as you whirled around to face the sight of Mr. Hotchner lounging in the armchair, a whiskey glass cradled in his hand. The light from the lamp beside him served to accentuate the shadows beneath his eyes, no doubt caused by his job. So, what he was doing up was beyond you.

"Geez, Mr. Hotchner, are you trying to give me a heart attack here?"

A mock frown creased your face, and you sauntered over to his chair. You settled on the armrest beside him and smoothly relieved him of the glass, taking a small, savoring sip. Annoying him was one of your favorite pastimes, one that was all too rare with his usual absence.

"So, what's the occasion? Waiting up for me?"

He wasn't amused, clearly, his face unchanging. With a deliberate motion, he took the glass back, taking another casual drink, and despite his stern look he didn't move away from you. His eyes shot you a sharp glance, withholding any spoken response.

With a light tap on his shoulder, you hopped down from the arm of the chair.

"It's okay, you don't have to say it. I can read you like a book," you tossed him a wink, your dress flirting with the edge of modesty at the quick action. His eyes briefly betrayed him, moving towards the expanse of flesh now on display. "Ahem, Mr. Hotchner, my face is a little higher."

You gently nudged his chin upward with your finger, guiding his attention to your eyes. You loved his eyes, a cocoa brown color that reminded you of rich, velvety chocolate truffles, a comparison you were pretty sure had slipped out when he interviewed you.

"Careful," he cautioned in a low murmur, easing himself from the chair and setting his glass aside. "As your employer, it's reasonable for me to be concerned about your well-being, you are the woman who raises my child."

"Oh, absolutely, sir. Your concern is most reasonable and duly noted," you replied with an exaggerated formality, lightly tapping his cheek before neatly tucking your hands behind your back.

He traced his brow with his fingertips, as if to smooth away the beginnings of a headache, undoubtedly brought on by you. A sigh of exhaustion followed. "I trust I don't need to remind you of who signs your paycheck."

With a beaming smile, you sing out, hands moving to rest on your hips. "Totally clear on that, sir!" You turn and head up the stairs, your mumble just loud enough for him to catch, "A little raise wouldn't hurt though, just saying!"

He's close behind as he warns in a low voice, "Don't push your luck."

You stop so suddenly he almost stumbles into you and you feel his hands steady you on your hips, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as you glance back at him.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare, sir."

A slight shake of his head and those perceptive eyes convey all he doesn't say as his hands fall away, the space they leave behind feeling oddly empty. 

"So, the date didn't go well?" he asks as you reach the top of the stairs.

"No, I didn't say that. It was wonderful, perfect actually." You'd always been a terrible liar, and naive for thinking he'd fall for it. "He might just be the man of my dreams."

He gives you a look that tells you he sees right through your bullshit. "Let me guess, he probably ordered for you without asking, talked over you, and didn't even bother to walk you to your door."

"Uh, no, that's not--," you start, voice squeaking slightly. His unimpressed look makes you fold--something you found yourself doing way too often around him. "Okay, fine. But really, using those weird FBI skills on me? That's playing dirty, Mr. Hotchner."

"No 'weird FBI skills' required," he replies, the slightest smirk gracing his stupidly handsome face. "Your taste in men is just... consistently interesting."

"Interesting is better than non-existent, which I believe is the current state of your dating life, Mister."

He moves closer, the narrowing space nudging you against the wall. "Well, considering my days are filled with work, parenting, and apparently, babysitting you, dating isn't exactly a priority."

He was kind of hot when he was mad. His eyes narrowed at you. Okay, not kind of, definitely hot when mad.

"Oh, Mr. Hotchner, it sounds like you need a night off from all that babysitting," you purr, placing your hands on his shoulders as you grace him with a smile. "Why don't we discuss your options over dinner? My treat?"

A sigh of exasperation escapes him, a telltale sign that he's done with the conversation, which actually is how a lot of your discussions end. He steps back and opens the door to your room. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner, see you in the morning," you say, your hand pausing on his arm just a beat too long. "Sweet dreams--though I'm sure I'll be in them."

taglist: @hotchhner

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Vine Between Us (3)

Summary

Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.

Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.

He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.

Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again—burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.

He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end.

Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...

Chapters: PART (1), PART (2)

A/N: Thank you for all the like and comments! It you did not get tag please let me know. I will definitely try get a list started soon. Enjoy!

NOT EDITED

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The gravel beneath Annie’s tires crackled as she eased her car into a tight spot beneath the blinking neon sign of The Cypress Lounge. Purple and gold light shimmered on her windshield, casting a soft glow across her cheekbones. She killed the engine and sat in silence for a moment, gripping the wheel like it might talk her out of going inside.

She could hear the low thump of music seeping through the club walls, steady like a heartbeat. Faint laughter spilled out every time the door opened. It sounded like the kind of place where memories waited, curled in the corners like cigarette smoke.

Annie stared out the window, her stomach fluttering with nerves she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t been back long. And even though this was her hometown, nothing felt the same. Should I even be here?

But then she thought about Pearline’s laugh, the way it used to echo down school hallways like a warning and a promise. She thought about how long it had been since she let herself breathe around old friends, let alone dance or sip something that burned going down but warmed her chest. And of course—she thought about Smoke.

I deserve this, she whispered to herself, adjusting the strap on her heel. One night. One laugh. One damn drink.

She grabbed her purse, pushed open the car door, and stepped into the thick Mississippi air that curled around her like warm breath. As she headed toward the entrance, her heel clipped the edge of the sidewalk.

The music spilling out from the double doors was smooth, tinged with soul, and paired nicely with the scent of sweet cigars and barbecue drifting on the warm Mississippi air.

The neon sign above the door glowed deep blue, like twilight caught in glass, and beneath it stood a bouncer with arms like tree trunks and a face she hadn’t seen in years.

“Cornbread?” Annie blinked, pausing just short of the rope.

The bouncer turned, squinting. Then his face lit up like a porch light. “Well I’ll be damned. Lil’ Annie Marie from Mrs. Griffin’s fourth grade class?”

Annie laughed. “Ain’t nobody called me Annie Marie in years.”

Cornbread chuckled and pulled her into a quick, friendly hug. He was heavier now, broader in the shoulders, but his round face and easy smile were just the same.

“I heard you went off to college and never looked back,” he said. “Where you been hiding all these years?”

“Chicago,” Annie said with a smile. “I’m a professor now. I teach Botany at the University of Chicago now.”

Cornbread let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Oh, we got a brain in the house tonight! Look at you. Smart and still fine.”

She smirked. “You always were full of compliments. How about you?”

He puffed out his chest with pride. “I’m married now. Got my first baby on the way.”

“For real? Congratulations, Cornbread. I’m happy for you.”

“Velma finally said yes after all them years,” he said, beaming. “And now we nesting and everything.”

Annie laughed. “Velma must’ve gotten tired of running.”

“Nah, I just got too good to resist.”

They both shared a laugh before he stepped aside and gestured toward the entrance. “Go on in. First round’s on me, just tell Pearline.”

She gave his arm a friendly squeeze and stepped into the Cypress Lounge.

The interior took her breath for a moment.

It was two floors of elegance dipped in Southern charm—dark wood, golden accents, lush velvet curtains, and soft lighting that made everyone look like a movie star. A spiral staircase curved toward the second level where a live jazz trio played, and the bar below was backed by mirrors that stretched up to the ceiling. Everything about it said grown, sexy, and proud.

She still thought of them as the boys with scraped knees and crooked grins, hustling at corner stores and making mixtapes off the radio. But this… this was grown-man status. No shortcuts. No half-steppin. They’d built something that felt good, something that welcomed people in and made them want to stay.

They really did this, she thought. Elijah and Elias Moore weren’t just the twins from math class anymore. They were businessmen. She took a slow, admiring look around, taking in the laughter, the clink of glasses, the way people were moving like the whole lounge had a pulse.

“Annie!” a voice called out.

She turned and saw Pearline waving her down from the bar, her smile wide and full of surprise. Wearing her big hoops, big hair, and a beautiful yellow summer dress. She stood near the bar waving a menu like a church fan, her hips already swaying in time with the music.

Annie smiled and made her way over, her gold sandals clicking softly against the floor.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” Pearline said, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure myself. But I figured, why not?”

“I’m glad you did.” Pearline motioned to the seat beside her. “Come on, girl. Sit. I wanna know everything.”

They spent the next half hour catching up,;talking about old classmates, wild dating stories, and the rollercoaster of adulthood. Pearline shared how she’d done a few Broadway shows when she lived in New York but came back to the Delta for a breather.

“Too much fast living,” Pearline said. “I needed air I didn’t have to fight for. Plus, Mama guilt-tripped me into coming home.”

Annie grinned. “That sounds like something my mom would do.”

Pearline leaned in, sipping her drink. “And you? Are you really teaching college kids now?”

“Yep. Botany,” Annie said, smoothing the side of her dress. “Working on my Ph.D., too.”

Pearline’s eyes widened with delight. “So I’m supposed to call you Dr. Annie now?”

Annie laughed. “Not yet, but soon.”

Just then, a familiar voice chimed in.

“Dr. Annie, huh? That got a nice ring to it.”

They both turned to see Stack—Elias—sauntering over, a fresh drink in his hand, smiling as easy as ever.

“Hey, stranger,” Annie said, warmth in her voice.

“Damn, you look beautiful,” Stack said, eyes full of admiration. “And congratulations. That’s big. I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“I am too,” she admitted, her voice softening. “This place... it’s beautiful. You and Elijah really built something special.”

Stack beamed. “We put our backs into it, that’s for sure.”

Annie’s eyes scanned the room, just for a second, subtle and quiet.

Stack noticed. Of course, he did.

“If you were wondering,” he said, leaning a little closer with a grin, “Smoke’s upstairs.”

Annie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Nobody is looking for him.”

Stack chuckled. “Sure. Okay. Women are always looking for a Moore man.”

Annie playfully smacked his arm. “Elias, go on somewhere before I hurt you.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Ain’t nobody called me Elias in years. You might be the only one that gets away with it.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, eyes full of something old and familiar. It was good to see Annie again.

“Well I gotta make my rounds ladies. Enjoy yourself. We will catch up later.”

Annie watched Stack walk off with that same confident stride he always had in high school—shoulders squared, slight bounce in his step like the world bent just a little to make way for him. She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Same ol’ Elias.

But the Cypress Lounge… that was something else entirely.

She turned her gaze upward, admiring the chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling like a cascade of gold teardrops. The soft lighting kissed the mahogany railings and velvet booths just right, casting shadows that made the place feel intimate, sultry even.

Jazz drifted from upstairs—a saxophone player melting notes like butter over a warm biscuit. Down below, glasses clinked, laughter rose and fell, and people moved through the space like they belonged to it.

Annie let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

It felt good to be here. Not as the girl who left Delta, Mississippi all those years ago, but as the woman who came back wiser, sharper, still soft, but not naive.

“This place got layers,” she murmured to Pearline, who was now sipping a cocktail that looked too fancy to pronounce.

“Right?” Pearline said, nodding. “It’s like... upscale juke joint meets speakeasy meets a grown-folks lounge. Smoke had the vision. Stack made it real.”

Annie swirled her drink, a bourbon and honey with a twist of lemon. It was smooth, warming her chest.

Her eyes moved across the room, catching glimpses of small-town faces dressed in big city energy. Some she recognized from high school who were now older, with laugh lines and wedding rings. Others were strangers, out-of-towners, maybe tourists or weekend regulars.

She leaned back, soaking in the chatter, the jazz, the scent of expensive perfume and fried catfish floating in from the kitchen. A waitress glided past in sliver heels, her tray balanced with precision.

Pearline leaned in. “Tell me the truth. When’s the last time you felt like this?”

Annie looked at her, thoughtful.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re allowed to enjoy yourself,” Pearline said. “Like the night is just for you.”

Annie hesitated, then smiled softly. “It’s been a while.”

“Then let it be tonight,” Pearline said, raising her glass. “To feeling like ourselves again.”

Annie clinked her glass against hers. “To that.”

As they toasted, the jazz upstairs slid into a slow, dreamy groove. The kind of music that made couples drift toward each other. The kind that made people believe in second chances.

Annie caught her reflection in the bar mirror Fuchsia dress hugging her just right, gold jewelry gleaming against her brown skin, her natural curls framed in a soft updo like her mother suggested. For the first time in a long time, she saw a woman who was present. Glowing.

And maybe, just maybe… open.

She didn’t come here looking for anything. But maybe something found her anyway.

From the second-floor overlook of the Cypress Lounge, Smoke leaned against the railing, a lowball glass resting in his hand. The golden lights bathed the crowd below in a soft, romantic haze. But his eyes weren’t on the stage or the bar.

They were on her.

Annie.

She stood near the bar with Pearline, her laughter catching even from where he stood. Her fuchsia dress clung to her curves like it had been sewn just for her. Gold jewelry shimmered at her ears and wrists. Her hair in those soft, coiled curls swept up and off her neck looked like something out of a dream. Or maybe a memory.

He didn’t realize how long he’d been watching her until Elias—Stack—appeared beside him with a drink of his own.

“Nigga, you gonna burn a hole in her,” Stack said with a smirk. “You gon’ keep staring or go down there and say something?”

Smoke didn’t answer right away. His jaw ticked slightly as he watched two men approach Annie and Pearline. Locals, dressed clean, full of confidence.

He watched as one leaned in toward Annie, all teeth and charm, nodding to the dance floor. She smiled politely, shaking her head with a laugh, while Pearline entertained the other man with a teasing smirk.

Another song kicked up, an old school groove that had couples sliding onto the dance floor like butter on grits.

One of the men offered Annie his hand again, clearly trying harder. And this time… she considered it.

Smoke straightened just a little.

Stack chuckled under his breath. “It’s funny. All these years, all them women, and look at you now. Jealous like a boy with his first crush.”

Smoke shot him a side glance. “Ain’t jealous. Just observant.”

“Mmhmm,” Stack said, clearly amused.

But Smoke’s gaze returned to Annie.

She looked so at home in the lounge, like she’d never left the Delta. Like she belonged there among gold light, rich music, and warm laughter.

And maybe she did.

But something in his chest pulled taut as he watched her lean closer to say something to the man again. Not because he didn’t want her to enjoy herself. He did.

He just didn’t expect it to feel like this.

In the supermarket, seeing her again had stirred something, but tonight, seeing her radiant, laughing, shining. She wasn’t the memory of the girl he once knew.

She was a woman. and maybe, it was time he stopped watching and made his way downstairs.

Annie’s laughter floated effortlessly into the air, carried by the soft thrum of music and the low hum of voices all around the lounge. She leaned against the bar, a fresh glass of sweet wine in hand, her gold bangles catching the light as she talked animatedly with Pearline.

She hadn’t felt this light in years.

No papers to grade. No office hours. No revisions staring her down.

Just music, good drinks, a beautiful lounge, and the warm comfort of old friendship.

“So, Professor Annie…” Pearline teased, tossing a curl over her shoulder, “…you just out here mingling with the common folk now?”

Annie rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. “Girl, please. I barely got out the house without guilt. Between teaching full time, writing this dissertation, and managing my apartment, this is the first night in months I’ve done something that didn’t involve caffeine and footnotes.”

Pearline beamed. “Then tonight, we dancing.”

As if on cue, two sharply dressed men approached them. Both tall, with easy smiles and that smooth Delta charm that didn’t have to try too hard.

“Excuse me, ladies,” the taller of the two said, his voice velvet-rich, “but we been standing over there trying to figure out how long it’d take to work up the nerve to come speak.”

Pearline smirked. “Well, it took you long enough.”

That made them all laugh. The other man turned to Annie, extending a hand. “Name’s Darius. And you must be… trouble.”

Annie quirked a brow but smiled. “Annie. And I prefer Doctor Trouble, if we’re going there.”

Darius chuckled. “Doctor Trouble? Lord have mercy! Smart and fine.”

“And you are?” she asked, sipping her wine again

“Darius Jackson. Contractor. Work out in Clarksdale. This here’s my cousin Quincy. He owns that new vinyl shop down on Main.”

“Pearline,” her friend chimed in, shaking Quincy’s hand. “Actress, singer, Broadway star. For tonight, your favorite dance partner.”

“Then can I have the honor of the first dance?” Quincy asked smoothly, extending his hand to Pearline.

“And the second,” Pearline replied with a wink, taking it.

Darius looked back at Annie. “What about you, Dr. Annie? Can I steal a dance, or are you one of those women who’s too smart to let a man lead?”

Annie let out a rich laugh, full and unbothered. “Darius, I came out tonight to have fun. I’ve earned that much.”

She placed her glass on the bar and took his hand. “Let’s dance.”

From above, Smoke watched her move onto the floor, her fuchsia dress catching the light with every sway of her hips. He watched her laugh, watched Darius lean in to say something, watched her throw her head back in amusement and move like she hadn’t been holding the weight of the world for years.

She looked free.

Beautiful.

Untouchable.

Yet, the heat that rose in his chest wasn’t from the whiskey anymore.

It was something much older.

Much deeper.

He didn’t like the way Darius held her waist.

Smoke gripped the railing of the upstairs balcony so tightly, his knuckles paled. The drink in his free hand had long since gone warm, untouched as he stared across the dance floor below.

Annie was glowing.

Her body moved like it remembered music in her bones. Swaying, dipping, rising again with ease. Her laughter floated up to him through the air thick with cigar smoke, sweat, perfume, and bass. Her dress, that vibrant shade of fuchsia, clung to her body like a second skin. Every time Darius’s hands rested lightly at her waist, Smoke’s jaw clenched tighter.

It was like watching someone slow dance with his oxygen.

That was his girl.

At least... she had been.

Back when they were sixteen and stupid and brave. Back before life threw bills, heartbreak, and distance between them. Back before the Cypress Lounge and Bo Chow’s and all this damn noise.

The DJ faded Lucy Pearl into the first few notes of “Love of My Life (An Ode to Hip-Hop)” by Erykah Badu, and that’s when it hit him like a punch to the gut.

He was right back in Annie’s living room.

It was a warm Friday night in the Delta, the kind where cicadas buzzed like static in the trees and the stars seemed to hum. Annie’s parents had left earlier that evening for a friend’s wedding in Jackson, and Elijah had ridden his bike over just as the sun tucked itself behind the pine trees.

Annie had on some worn cotton shorts and a tank top, curls tied up in a puff, and barefoot. They’d spent the last hour curled on the sofa, knees touching beneath the quilt her grandmother made, watching Brown Sugar on DVD. The part where Dre confesses his love for Sidney had just ended and the credits began to roll.

The silence between them was warm, not awkward. Just the kind of quiet that came from being understood.

“You liked it?” Annie asked, brushing popcorn from her chest.

“Yeah.” Elijah nodded. “I like stories that know what they are.”

Annie chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. “You so deep, Eli.”

He shrugged. “Just honest.”

She looked over at him, eyes soft in the dim lamp light. “Say somethin’ honest now.”

Elijah turned toward her fully, his breath catching. The air shifted. Time slowed.

He was a boy raised by a father who didn’t believe in softness or being vulnerable. But Annie? She was soft. She was the center.

He fidgeted with his thumb, gaze dropping to the curve of her knee, then back up. “I... I been tryin’ to say something for a while now,” he said, voice low, like he was scared to speak it too loud would break the magic.

She didn’t blink. “Say it.”

Elijah swallowed. “I love you, Annie.”

A beat passed.

Two.

Then a small smile broke across her face, slow and sure. “I know.”

He blinked. “You know?”

“I was just waiting on you to know,” she said. “Took you long enough.”

She leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft, then firm. Her lips rested near his ear. “I love you too, Elijah Moore.”

And that was the first night Elijah knew what it meant to truly be seen.

Smoke’s jaw flexed as he watched Darius lead Annie into a playful spin. The way she smiled at the man. His girl smiling at someone else caused an ache in his chest to expand until it became unbearable.

He looked away, muttering to himself, “She is still mine. She gotta be.”

The music pulsed. The past bled into the present.

Elijah Smoke Moore realized that no matter how long it had been...Annie Marie Baptiste still had his heart in her back pocket.

The song faded into the background as Annie laughed, her chest rising and falling with breathless joy. Darius thanked her for the dance with a charming smile and a hand squeeze before heading back toward his group of friends. Pearline, mid-conversation with another admirer, gave Annie a knowing wink.

Annie smoothed her dress down, her skin warm from movement and her heart still fluttering from the rare sensation of being completely free.

Then she felt it that unmistakable pull.

She turned.

And there he was.

Smoke. Elijah.

Leaning casually against a column near the bar, half-shrouded in the lounge’s moody amber lighting, his dark eyes locked on her like she was the only person in the room. He hadn’t moved a step, yet the energy between them shifted like gravity realigning itself. Her throat went dry.

“Elijah,” she said, more breath than word.

He pushed off the column and made his way toward her, slow and deliberate, the crowd parting instinctively. When he stood in front of her, time compressed into that heartbeat of silence.

“You still dance like you got magic in your bones,” he said, voice low and velvety.

“And you still talk like you trying to put a spell on somebody,” Annie replied, steady, even as her pulse betrayed her.

Smoke’s eyes drifted over her face, then lower, pausing at the way her gold jewelry shimmered against her skin. “Didn’t expect to see you out tonight.”

“Pearline invited me. I needed a night out.” She tilted her head. “Stack inviting me too, if you remember?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I remember. Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I almost didn’t,” she admitted.

“Why’d you change your mind?”

Annie hesitated, her mouth parting, then closing. “Because I deserved to have a little fun. Been working too hard not to.”

Smoke nodded, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then, softer, “You look good, Annie.”

“So I’ve heard,” she said, half-smiling. “But thank you.”

They stood there, the hum of the lounge pulsing around them. Two old lovers suspended in time, surrounded by music, memory, and everything unsaid.

Smoke leaned in slightly. “I ever tell you how much I hated seeing another man with his hands on you?”

Annie raised a brow. “Elijah—”

“I know,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t owe me anything. Not tonight. But I can’t lie and pretend it didn’t mess with me. Not after the way we ended. Not when I still…”

He stopped himself.

Her voice softened. “Still what?”

He didn’t finish. Instead, he glanced down at her hand, then back to her eyes. “You still wear your scent the same. Citrus and shea. Smells like home.”

Annie swallowed hard. “Elijah, don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

His gaze lingered a beat longer. “Maybe I came tonight ready.”

She blinked. For the first time in years, she didn’t know what to say.

From the bar, Pearline’s voice floated over, playful and teasing, “Annie, girl, you better not be fallin’ under a Moore spell again!”

They both laughed, tension breaking like steam rising off hot asphalt.

Annie stepped back slightly, her smile edged with caution. “I came to dance, not to rewind the past.”

Smoke nodded. “Then let me make it simple.” He extended a hand. “One dance. No spells. No promises. Just music.”

Annie stared at his hand… then slowly placed hers in it.

“One dance,” she warned.

“One,” he echoed, leading her toward the floor. But in his gut, Elijah Moore knew one would never be enough.

The moment Annie placed her hand in Elijah’s, the room shifted. “Soul Sista” by Bilal poured over them like honey, thick and slow, syrupy with nostalgia. They moved toward the center of the floor where the lights dimmed just enough to blur the lines between memory and moment.

As his hand slipped around her waist, Annie felt the warmth of his touch seep through her dress. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, reluctant, but steady.

“You always wore gold like it was made for you,” Elijah murmured.

Annie looked up, raising a brow. “We’re starting off with compliments now?”

He smirked faintly. “Just telling the truth.”

They began to sway, the beat guiding their steps in time with the ache that had been living in the space between them for years. The hush of the lounge faded into the background, as though the music had built a room just for them.

Annie kept her eyes on the dance floor behind his shoulder. “So… what is this, Elijah? A peace offering?”

He pulled her in a little closer, not enough to provoke, but just enough to be felt. “No. It’s a moment. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Annie sighed, a soft huff of breath between them. “Funny how you ask for a moment now… after disappearing for years without giving me one.”

Elijah stilled. Just for a second. The weight of her words hung in the air like smoke.

“I know,” he said, his voice low.

She dared to meet his gaze. “Do you? Because you left, Elijah. No note. No call. Not even a rumor. I thought something happened to you. Then I realized… something did. You just didn’t think I needed to know what.”

The music swelled. “You’re my soul sista…”

His grip on her waist tightened with emotion. “Annie, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

“I know I did.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to see her full face. “And I’ve carried that every damn day since.”

Annie’s lips trembled, but she held firm. “Then why? Why didn’t you say anything? Why just vanish like I never mattered?”

Smoke’s jaw clenched. His eyes, usually calm, stormed with guilt.

“Because I was scared. And selfish. I didn’t know how to be everything you deserved. I was seventeen with a thousand demons and no answers. And you… you were brilliant. Focused. Full of light. I thought leaving would protect you from me.”

Annie blinked, stunned. The raw honesty in his voice cut deeper than she expected.

“You didn’t get to make that decision for me,” she said quietly.

“I know that now.”

They moved slowly, their bodies pressed close as the song continued to pour through them. “...Ooh, you’re my soul sista…”

Smoke lowered his forehead to hers for a beat, their breath shared in silence. “Annie, I’m sorry. For all of it. For leaving. For hurting you. For not being man enough to look you in the eye and tell you goodbye.”

Annie didn’t respond right away. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she closed her eyes trying not to let the years of confusion and hurt unravel all at once.

“I waited for you, you know,” she whispered. “I waited and I wondered and I hated myself for not being enough to make you stay.”

He pulled her tighter then, unable to pretend anymore. “Don’t ever say that. You were everything. I just… wasn’t ready to stand beside someone like you. I was broken, Annie.”

“You still are,” she said, not cruelly—but with painful truth.

“I’m trying,” Smoke replied. “I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone anymore. Not when every place I went, I still saw you. Heard you in the music. In the quiet. You were always with me.”

The song reached its final stretch, winding down into soft, soulful notes. Their steps slowed too, until they were nearly standing still, holding each other in the middle of a dance floor full of strangers who felt a world away.

Annie’s voice cracked as she looked up at him. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and expect me to pretend none of that happened.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend,” he said. “I’m asking you… to let me earn your forgiveness. One step at a time.”

Silence bloomed between them.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” she admitted.

“That’s okay,” Elijah said. “I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

The music faded completely, and still they didn’t let go.

Not yet.

Not while something between them fragile and undeniable had finally been spoken aloud.

The music drifted into silence, replaced by the soft hum of the lounge around them. She gently pulled her hands away from Smoke’s and the space between them stretched wider with each step back.

“I need a minute,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Smoke didn’t stop her. He only nodded, his eyes following her with an intensity that burned hotter than anything the music could offer.

Annie turned, her heart thudding loud and uneven as she weaved through the crowd. The lights of the Cypress Lounge, golden and low, swirled above her, but nothing felt steady. Not her breathing. Not her thoughts. Not the aching press of Smoke’s words echoing in her chest.

He had said sorry. Really said it. Not in the casual, rehearsed way people apologized to ease their own guilt, but in a way that cracked open something she had sealed years ago.

She made her way to the upstairs lounge. A quieter, more intimate space with plush velvet chairs and soft jazz playing in the background. Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she approached the bar, signaling the bartender with a flick of her fingers.

“Just water,” she said, her voice a whisper.

The bartender nodded, sliding her a tall glass filled with ice and lemon.

Annie took it with shaky hands and sat near the corner, facing out over the balcony where she could still see the dance floor below. She watched people laughing, swaying, living like they didn’t have history haunting them.

Her eyes, inevitably, found Smoke.

He hadn’t moved from where she left him.

He stood still in the middle of the floor, hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as if replaying every word they had just exchanged.

Annie exhaled, long and slow.

She sipped the water and closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back in the chair. The memory of his voice clung to her skin like heat.

“I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

God help her… part of her wanted to believe him. Part of her wanted to melt into the space between those words and everything they once were.

However, the wiser part of her, the woman who had spent years rebuilding herself from the absence he left behind. She needed more than beautiful words. She needed proof.

Still, she didn’t move.

She just sat there, watching him.

Waiting to see if he would follow.

Waiting to see if maybe...he meant it.

“Girl,” Pearline said, breathless and curious, as she slid into the seat next to Annie on the velvet settee. “You damn near flew off that dance floor like it was on fire.”

Annie gave a tired smile and sipped her water. “Maybe it was.”

Pearline tilted her head, scanning her friend’s face like only a true friend could. “You alright?”

Annie didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted over the balcony edge, down to where Elijah still stood like a statue in the middle of the lounge. His head had turned slightly like he felt her eyes, like he knew she was watching.

“I’m trying to be,” Annie said softly.

Pearline followed her gaze. “He’s been staring up here since you left.”

“That sounds about right.” Annie turned her attention back to her drink. “He’s good at showing up just a little too late.”

Pearline reached over, resting her hand on Annie’s knee. “But he said something, didn’t he? Something real.”

Annie nodded slowly. “Yeah… he apologized.”

“Did it feel real?”

“That’s the problem,” Annie whispered. “It did.”

Pearline leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Whew. Now I see why you dipped.”

They sat in silence for a few beats, the jazz from the overhead speakers settling into their bones.

“Pearline,” Annie said, voice barely a murmur, “I spent so long trying not to think about him. Not to wonder why he left. Then tonight… it’s like none of that time passed. He touched me and I—”

“You felt it.”

Annie nodded. “Worse. I wanted to feel it. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

Pearline sighed, taking her friend’s hand in hers. “That man has loved you since we were kids, Annie. I saw it. Everybody did. But love don’t excuse leaving without a word. Love don’t excuse silence.”

Annie blinked back heat behind her eyes. “Exactly.”

“But,” Pearline added, squeezing Annie’s hand, “maybe this ain’t about what he feels. Maybe it’s about what you want now. Do you want answers? Closure? A second chance? Or do you want to finish that dissertation and leave this night as just a beautiful evening with some damn fine music?”

Annie let the question settle in her chest. Heavy. Unforgiving. True.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just know I don’t want to run anymore.”

Pearline smirked, bumping her shoulder gently. “Then don’t. Stay. Be still. Let him be the one who has to move this time.”

Annie smiled faintly, the first real one in a while. “You always know what to say.”

“I’m gifted,” Pearline said dramatically, flipping her curls over her shoulder. “And I’m also about to go get another drink. You want anything?”

“Just another water.”

Pearline winked. “Playing it safe. I respect it.”

As Pearline walked away, Annie looked down at Smoke one more time. He had finally moved, and he was heading toward the stairs. Her chest tightened.

She wasn’t running.

Not this time.

That’s when a voice broke through the velvet hum of the lounge. It was deep, smooth, laced with charm.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Stack’s voice rang out from the stage mic below, drawing the attention of the crowd like a magnet. Annie and Pearline both leaned over the balcony railing, their eyes catching the soft golden glow of the spotlight that now bathed Stack’s confident figure.

Pearline grinned. “And here goes your other boy…”

Annie smirked faintly, grateful for the distraction.

“Now I don’t usually get on this mic unless the bar is low or the crowd is too quiet,” Stack began, earning chuckles from below. “But tonight, we got a little treat for y’all.”

The crowd leaned in, drinks stilled mid-sip. Upstairs, Annie felt her shoulders ease.

“This here,” Stack continued, “is my cousin Sammie. He flew in from Memphis just for tonight. Brought his guitar and a little heat to share with y’all. Don’t let that shy face fool you. He been pickin’ strings since before he could spell his name.”

More laughter. Anticipation crackled through the room like static.

Stack stepped aside, motioning toward the tall, lean man who strolled into the spotlight, a well-worn guitar slung over his shoulder. Sammie tipped his hat to the crowd before settling onto a stool, adjusting the mic.

“I wanna give y’all something gritty,” he said into the mic, his voice rich and slow like molasses. “A little something that reminds me of Mississippi swamps and kitchen radios… a piece of my soul.”

Then he leaned forward, plucked the first mournful note, and launched into his own haunting rendition of Smokestack Lightnin’ by Howlin’ Wolf.

The sound crawled through the lounge like smoke through a keyhole. It was bluesy, raw, mesmerizing. The guitar wailed under Sammie’s fingers, and the crowd fell into a reverent hush.

From the balcony, Annie felt it thrum deep in her chest.

Pearline whispered, “Damn… this boy ain’t come to play.”

Annie said nothing.

For the first time all night, the music wasn’t just background, it was speaking to something buried inside her. Something that's aching. Something that wants to be awakened.

Sammie sang that rough, aching chorus, as Elijah finally reached the top of the stairs.

Annie didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

Not while the blues were still singing.

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Good Enough

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WHUMPTOBER DAY FIFTEEN :Prompt: Childhood trauma/"i did good, right?"

Summary: After Bruce rescued you from an abusive family and adopted you into his own, you worry that you haven't done well enough for him on your first patrol.

Warnings: mentions of an abusive family.

Word count: 700

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

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You had been training for this your entire life. Or at least your entire life with Bruce Wayne. He had taken you in from a young age. He had seen your potential and rescued you from an abusive situation. He took you from your lowest; from a place where you were unappreciated, to one where you were loved and cherished. Bruce had trained you hard over the years, helping to build up your abilities brick by brick. He had given you something to work towards. And you had finally gotten there. But you felt like you had to repay him. Like you had to live up to the expectations cast down on you from the generations of previous Robins. 

An anxious feeling simmered in your chest as you shadowed Batman through the city. This was your first patrol, and the anxiety had forged together with this unexplainable excitement that bubbled up inside you. It was exhilarating. Darting across the rooftops was all that you had imagined yet so much more at the same time. It was supposed to be a nice, quiet and easy night based on recent activity in Gotham. But of course nothing is ever simple and soon you and Bruce were dashing over to the other side of the city to stop some thieves from robbing a high end jewellery store. 

You skidded to a halt at the sound of smashing glass under the blaring of the sirens. You could see the thieves halfway down the street ahead of you, their bags full as they sprinted away. You were hot on their heels forcing your legs to go faster as you tried to keep up with Bruce and to catch them. The pair turned a corner down an alleyway. This was your chance. You knew the streets well; you had been studying them as part of your training. So, instead of following them you continued on straight before taking a left coming out in front of them. 

The thieves didn’t notice you at first and proceeded to hop the fence before landing straight in front of you. You readied your weapon and adopted a fighting stance like you had been taught. You were ready to fight. But the minute they straightened up, you were hit with an immense sense of fear. 

They looked like your parents. 

Tall and lean, the figures now resembled your birth parents as they loomed before you. Their words rang in your ears, telling you how much of a disappointment you were. How you were a waste of space. Ungrateful. You froze. Lost for a moment as you were struck with all of your childhood trauma. But then you caught a glimpse of Batman’s cape and were reminded of why you were out here. Reminded that you were loved. 

Raising you weapon you lunged forwards first. Landing a quick blow to the shorter criminal’s side, you tackled them down to the ground. Very quickly, Batman joined in the fight and the alley was filled with a flurry of punches and rouge kicks. It didn’t take long before the two were on the ground and in handcuffs, ready for the GCPD to take away. 

Batman straightened and placed his hands on his hips as he took in your work. He then turned to you, his gaze impossible to tell from under his mask. He could tell that there was a slight hint of fear underlying the look you had plastered on your face. So, he crouched down to your level, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He could tell that something was up, but he wasn’t quite sure what. 

You swallowed thickly before asking nervously “I….i did good, right?”

Bruce’s face softened almost sadly. He knew that you had been through a lot. Far too much for anyone to go through, let alone a child. “So good, kiddo.”

“...you mean it?”

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before deciding to just pull you straight into a hug. “Of course. I’m so, so proud of you. You did amazing, kiddo. Better than I could have ever asked for.”

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<- DAY FOURTEEN ⛧ DAY SIXTEEN ->

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TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

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[vamptizm]

SNOOZE — p. bueckers ii.

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

word count: 3939

♯┆ masterlist .ᐟ ★

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist @thaatdigitaldiary @avvwritesstufff

The smell of brown sugar and melted butter filled Soraya's apartment like a warm hug.

It was 7:30 in the morning—far too early for anything serious, but for once, Soraya was up and moving like someone who'd slept well and had nothing pressing on her mind. The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, pouring through the wide windows and casting a warm, honeyed glow across the countertops. SZA played low from the speaker on the shelf, her voice airy and tender, the bass steady enough to make Soraya's bare feet tap against the tile as she stirred chocolate chips into a bowl of cookie dough.

Her braids were tied into a loose bun, strands slipping out and framing her face, which was still bare of makeup and soft with sleep. She wore one of her ex's old UConn hoodies—oversized and faded—and a pair of shorts that left her long legs free to move as she danced a little, hips swaying to the rhythm of ‘Another Life.’

Below her, Jiggy weaved between her ankles like she was auditioning for a role as a speed bump. The tabby's usually chill attitude had been replaced by something bordering on clingy—rubbing up against Soraya's shins, meowing faintly, then hopping onto the counter like she owned the place.

"Girl, you're bold this morning," Soraya muttered, gently nudging her back down. "One of these days, you're gonna knock a whole tray over and I'm actually gonna cry."

Unbothered, Jiggy blinked her wide green eyes and gave a soft tail flick, sitting down as if to say, ‘yeah okay but you love me.’

Soraya rolled her eyes, wiped her hands on a towel, then picked her up like she weighed nothing. Jiggy let herself be cradled, limbs loose and eyes slowly blinking shut. Soraya swayed with her, arms wrapped beneath Jiggy's fuzzy belly, singing along under her breath.

"I don't wanna be, just a shell of me!"

She spun slowly, barefoot, content. The moment Soraya shoved the tray of cookie dough into the preheated oven, her phone buzzed twice on the kitchen counter. She didn't need to look to know who it was — only a select few had the honor of piercing through her ‘Do Not Disturb’ that early in the morning: her mom, Dijonai... and Lou.

She reached over for the phone, not needing to verify or check the caller ID to know which one of the three it was.

With a soft sigh and a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, Soraya swiped to answer, switching it to speaker before setting the phone back down next to where Jiggy had just leapt up—her paws light as ever on the marble.

"Bonjour, mon cher," Soraya greeted smoothly, voice still low and rough with morning.

"For someone who claims to hate everything French, you sure love to use it on me," came the familiar, accented voice through the speaker—Lou's words playful, her French lilt thicker now that she wasn't speaking English on the daily. Spain had clearly been good to her.

"That's the beauty of free will, isn't it?" Soraya replied with a shrug as she picked the phone back up, walking toward her bedroom while wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"Right, right." Lou let out a breathy laugh, and Soraya could hear the smile behind it. There was always that smile with Lou—even in silence.

For a few seconds, the call settled into a quiet lull. Soraya sifted through her closet for practice clothes while Lou waited—both of them comfortable in the space between words.

Then Lou spoke, voice lighter than before, teasing. "Alright. Let's get straight into it."

Soraya paused, smirking at her reflection in the mirror as she peeled off her oversized tee. "Knew you had an agenda."

"Always. So?" Lou pressed, leaning back against whatever couch she was curled up on, no doubt sipping something expensive and European. "What's your first impression of your new rookie?"

Soraya snorted, tossing a shirt onto the bed. "Which one? Got like three to five this season."

"You know exactly which one I mean."

“Oh, right. Your beloved child.” Soraya rolled her eyes, the faintest grin ghosting her lips. "Wording it like I slept with her or something."

Lou let out a genuine laugh. "I mean—did you?"

"Fuck no." Soraya pulled her tank top over her head. "She was fine, though. Loud. Fucking loves the attention. Nothing impressive or new yet."

"So... still the same," Lou replied, her tone knowing.

"I guess. Walked into the gym yesterday like she was LeBron in a ponytail," Soraya said as she sat at the edge of her bed, tying her sneakers with quick, practiced fingers. "Same obnoxious confidence. Just vibes and volume."

"She is confident. And she hates silence," Lou said fondly. "You of all people should understand that."

"I don't hate silence. I worship it."

"Whatever."

Soraya exhaled a short chuckle, standing back up to return to the kitchen just in time to hear the oven timer go off. She cracked it open with a towel, the smell of warm chocolate and vanilla filling the apartment as Jiggy circled at her feet like a sleepy shark.

Lou exhaled a small sigh. "You sound like you're already mentally preparing for battle. It's not that bad, I promise. At least she's not some new rookie who doesn't know how to exist."

Soraya chuckled as she pulled on her shirt. "Well, at least she's got that."

"Anyway," Lou's voice softened, the playful teasing falling away. "Just take care of her for me, yeah? It's your duty as her vet."

"I'll make sure she doesn't burn out or get too cocky and that’s it." Soraya paused, refraining from rolling her eyes. "She's a grown woman, she'll be fine."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. Take care of her, Soraya. It's your job."

Soraya gave a light scoff, walking back out to the kitchen. "My job is playing basketball. Babysitting was nowhere in my contract."

Lou's voice softened again, but there was still amusement there. "That's what you say now, but I know you'll be her go-to when she needs someone to knock her down a peg. You've got that energy."

Soraya rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Fine. I'll keep an eye on her. Just don't expect me to be nice about it."

"Never expected you to be," Lou replied. "But you've got this."

Soraya strolled into the locker room, fashionably late as usual, the scent of freshly baked cookies trailing behind her. In one hand, she held a Tupperware container, the lid slightly askew, filled with the warm, gooey treats she had made earlier. She flung her bag into her locker with the effortless grace she was known for, setting the container down on her chair with a quiet clink before speaking, her voice smooth and nonchalant, as if the offer of cookies was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Knock yourselves out," she said, her tone detached. "Don't ask for the ingredients. If you die, you die."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and the room fell into silence. The rookies and the newest teammates exchanged confused glances—not because of the bluntness of what she'd said, but because someone as composed and stoic as Soraya had just done something so sweet, so unexpected. She baked cookies for the entire team, and it seemed almost out of character, a contrast to the cold, calculating persona she usually exuded. At least to them.

Arike, ever the opportunist, was the first to speak, her hands already twitching with excitement. "Y'all heard the girl." She rubbed her hands together, her fingers crackling with cartoonish enthusiasm, before peeling the lid off the Tupperware. The moment the sweet, irresistible scent hit the air, her eyes practically lit up. "Oh, this shit smells good."

Soraya, still with her back to the room, didn't even turn around when she spoke again, her voice dripping with quiet confidence. "Was there any doubt?"

Her words were more rhetorical than anything, but Nalyssa, unable to resist, answered anyway. "Nah. Nai doesn't shut up about your baking." She grabbed a cookie with the same kind of reverence one might use to handle a rare artifact, passing another to Arike.

The playful exchange earned Nalyssa a smack on the arm from her girlfriend, and Soraya felt the smallest tug of satisfaction at the corner of her lips, the ego boost something she'd never admit, but still appreciated.

With the cookies now scattered around the room, everyone eagerly dug in, savoring the warmth of the treat in their hands, except for one person.

Paige stood off to the side, her gaze fixed entirely on Soraya. She couldn't seem to help herself. The way Soraya's back moved as she stretched, muscles rippling beneath her skin, was hypnotic. Paige's eyes traced the curve of her spine, the way her shirt slipped over her head with the kind of fluidity that made it look effortless. And then—just as naturally—Soraya peeled off her sweatpants. Paige's eyes wandered lower, unable to resist the way Soraya's hips swayed with the simple movement, the way her woxers clung to her figure, accentuating the curves of her ass before she slipped into her basketball shorts.

Paige felt a flush creep up her neck. She hadn't meant to stare, but Soraya had an energy that pulled at her attention.

Suddenly, Soraya's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp and knowing, as if she could feel the weight of Paige's gaze even without looking.

"You on a diet, rookie?"

The question was simple, casual, but the way Soraya said it—no hint of curiosity, no offense taken—told Paige everything she needed to know. Soraya wasn't asking out of genuine interest; it was more of a playful jab, one that made it clear she knew exactly what Paige had been doing.

The younger blinked, caught completely off guard. She snapped her eyes up to meet Soraya's face, heat rushing to her cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been staring, but now that she was caught, she scrambled to come up with something to say. "Oh… nah. Just waiting for everyone else to go first."

She let out a quiet, internal sigh of relief. 'Good save,' she thought.

Soraya didn't respond with much more than a noncommittal hum, her eyes still fixed on her reflection as she tugged her braids into a tight ponytail, the motion graceful, deliberate. The hum was dismissive, but not rude. She wasn't buying the excuse, but she didn't press the matter either.

Meanwhile, Arike, Dijonai, and Nalyssa exchanged amused glances. They were clearly entertained by the brief, silent interaction between the two, their eyes flicking back and forth between Soraya and Paige, unable to hide their grins.

Finally, Paige couldn't hold out any longer. She grabbed a cookie and took a bite, and the moment the sweetness hit her tongue, she froze. It was as if everything else in the room faded away. The cookie was perfect. The exterior had just the right amount of crispness, while the interior was soft and chewy, the chocolate chips still gooey and warm. It was everything she loved in a cookie—exactly how she imagined it should be.

"Jesus, this is probably the best cookie I've ever had," Paige said, almost breathlessly. She tossed her head back with a satisfied hum, her eyes closing briefly as the flavor exploded in her mouth.

Soraya kept her back turned, her face a picture of calm, but Paige noticed the small, satisfied grin that tugged at the corner of her lips. It was subtle, but it was there. Soraya couldn't hide her satisfaction at the praise, and for a moment, Paige felt as though she had just won the lottery. It was as if Soraya's approval—her smile—was the greatest reward she could ask for.

Practice had barely started when Chris called everyone to half-court, clipboard in hand, whistle between his teeth. The sound cut sharp through the gym, pulling all chatter and leftover cookie conversations to a halt.

"Partner skill drills. You know the routine," he barked, glancing down at the list before rattling off names. "Arike with Dijonai. Nalyssa with Veronica. Paige—"

She perked up slightly, shifting on her heels.

"—you're with Soraya."

A few heads turned. Paige felt it—eyes glancing toward her, curious. Like people were waiting to see what happened when you paired fire with ice.

She jogged over with a lazy sort of swagger, keeping her shoulders loose. The last thing she wanted to do was look rattled, especially not in front of her. Soraya stood by the baseline already, a ball tucked under one arm, a white compression sleeve rolled taut over her left arm, expression unreadable as usual.

Paige gave her a small, almost cocky smile as she approached. "Look at that. Guess we're married for the morning."

Soraya didn't blink. "Guess so."

They started with passing drills—precision and rhythm were everything. But it didn't take long to see that theirs was... lacking. Timing was off. Spacing too. Soraya passed fast and sharp like she always had, with intention and muscle memory behind every flick of her wrists. Paige, meanwhile, adjusted on instinct, still reading her, still trying to catch the rhythm of someone who clearly didn't want to give her anything to work with.

"You always pass this hard in warmups, or am I getting special treatment?" Paige joked after the third zip nearly knocked her fingers back.

Soraya didn't even glance at her. "Catch faster."

Paige let out a quiet breath through her nose. Okay. That’s how it was going to be.

They kept moving. Cut, pass, bounce, drive. Paige was quick, competitive, adaptable, but there was a heaviness to their pairing that didn't exist with anyone else. Soraya didn't speak unless necessary, and when she did, it was all instruction, no warmth. Paige wasn't sure if she was annoyed, testing her, or just naturally this detached.

Still, Paige pushed through it, unbothered on the surface. She tossed in little comments here and there, some cheeky, some borderline sarcastic, just testing the waters. But none of it cracked Soraya's armor.

Until the rebounding drill.

The moment the ball bounced high off the backboard, both players launched toward it. They collided midair—light, but enough that Paige let out a surprised laugh when she landed half off-balance.

"Damn, you don't ease up, huh?"

Soraya steadied her stance and caught the next rebound cleanly, flipping it back out toward the perimeter without a word. Paige caught it, dribbled once, and spoke again, this time a little lower, a little closer, eyes flicking up to catch the other woman's.

"Even when I played against you at the finals, your face didn't change once. You got some award for that? Or is it just, like... natural stoicism?"

That was when it happened.

It was quick—blink-and-you'd-miss-it. But it was there. The tiniest shift in Soraya's mouth, the corner twitching up like she was trying to stifle something. A grin.

And Paige noticed. Her eyes lit up, a triumphant glint flashing through them like a kid who just cracked a safe.

"There it is," she teased, pointing as she bounced the ball once. "I knew you had facial muscles."

Soraya rolled her eyes and shook her head, but it wasn't dismissive. It was amused. Her next pass came a little lighter. Her posture relaxed just enough. When Paige moved, she followed more fluidly. Their feet aligned better, timing smoothed out, spacing fell into sync like they'd been practicing together for months, not minutes.

There was a shift.

Not just in their mechanics—but in the energy between them. The kind of wordless understanding that only existed between players who saw the game the same way, or at least felt it the same way.

And Paige, who had walked into this practice trying to act like Soraya's cold front didn't affect her, now found herself a little too aware of the way Soraya's eyes tracked her movements. Like she was finally, finally paying attention.

They ran another rep. This time, the pass was clean, the give-and-go tighter, faster. Paige pivoted and drove toward the basket, tossing it back over her shoulder just as Soraya cut in, catching it mid-stride and sinking it in one clean motion. No rim, just net.

"Alright," Soraya said quietly as they reset. Her tone had shifted—cool, but not as cold. "Not bad, rookie."

Paige smirked, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Not bad yourself, vet."

There was another flicker in Soraya's eyes, something unreadable but warm around the edges. And though neither of them said it, they both felt it.

It had been a long-ass day. Practice ran heavy—more intensity, more drills, more of everything. And while her body could handle it, Soraya's mind was already clocking out. Social battery drained. Her teammates loud. Music blasting in the background of the locker room. Everyone decompressing in their own way. She just wanted quiet.

A few players had already sunk themselves into the cold tubs in the recovery room, each one fighting through the usual sting of the ice cold water. No one ever really got used to it, no matter how many years of experience they had.

Soraya walked in without a word, a towel slung over her shoulder, and her phone in hand. Her eyes scanned the space once, slow and detached—until they lingered.

She was already in one of the tubs, sitting on the opposite side, arms perched up along the edges, grey tank clinging to her body from being soaked. It hugged her torso and drew attention to her toned stomach in a way that Soraya didn't care to explain. Her hair was pushed back, skin flushed from the cold. She was talking to someone at first, laughing, but her voice faded into background noise as Soraya stared just a beat too long.

She didn't know why she was looking. Paige was attractive—sure—but Soraya didn't mingle with her teammates like that. Not rookies. Not Vets. Not anyone.

Still, when her feet stepped forward toward the tub, she didn't stop them. Without so much as a greeting or a glance, she climbed into the very same cold tub Paige was in, lowering herself in with barely a flinch.

Shorts and a sports bra. That was it.

And when her body met the freezing water, she didn't give anyone the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, she sank into the bench built into the tub, draping one arm across the backrest with the kind of casual dominance she didn't have to announce. Her other hand held her phone, thumb mindlessly scrolling.

Paige blinked once, then twice.

"You just gonna sit there like the cold ain't bothering you at all?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice—along with a little awe, her brows furrowed slightly.

Soraya didn't even glance up. "'Cause it's not," she replied dryly, like it was obvious. Of course it was. It absolutely was.

Paige raised her brows. "You kinda scare me a little, y'know?"

Soraya's thumb didn't stop scrolling. "Good."

There was a beat of silence. The water rippled between them. Paige let herself sink further into the tub until the chill made her shiver again.

"It's hot," she murmured then, not even looking at her. It wasn't meant to land like a line. More of an observation. Something honest and low, carried just under the buzz of everyone else's conversations.

This time, Soraya's eyes flicked up—just her eyes, head still tilted toward the screen in her lap. The corners of her mouth didn't move, but her gaze did, locking onto Paige with something unreadable. Curious. Slightly amused. Like she'd heard that a million times but never from someone who said it without trying to impress her.

"You mean the water?" Soraya finally asked, voice dry.

Paige looked at her, one brow raised like seriously? Because just the question was ridiculous.

"You."

A ghost of a grin tugged at Soraya's lips before she could hide it. The same subtle, hard-to-earn grin Paige had pulled out of her once during drills. Then, Soraya locked her phone, tossed it onto the towel beside the tub, and leaned back, letting her eyes shut.

"You're annoying," she muttered. But the thing was—she didn't move. She didn't get out.

And Paige? She didn't take it to heart. Didn't stop looking.

The water was still, save for the occasional ripple when either of them shifted slightly. Paige hadn't said anything for a while, but Soraya could feel her looking.

It was subtle at first—eyes dragging down the line of her throat, lingering at her collarbones, her arms, the way her toned stomach rose and fell so steadily. Soraya wasn't trying to show off, but with how little the sports bra covered, there wasn't much hiding either. She focused on her phone. Pretended not to notice.

Paige, meanwhile, was not pretending at all.

She tilted her head lazily in Soraya's direction, one arm perched on the edge of the tub, bringing her just a little closer. "You always this composed? Even half naked and submerged in freezing water?"

Soraya didn't flinch. "Half naked is crazy. You always this obvious when you're staring?"

Caught—but only barely. Paige smiled. "If I'm gonna admire something, might as well commit, right? I like to take my time."

Soraya finally looked up. Fully this time. Her gaze landed on Paige like a weight, slow and deliberate. Her eyes dragged over her—tank clinging damp to her skin, the curve of her waist, the strong set of her shoulders. A muscle feathered in Soraya's jaw. "Keep talking like that and ima drown you, Bueckers."

Paige smirked, undeterred. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

That—that—earned her the softest exhale of a laugh. Barely there, but there. And that tiny crack in Soraya's armor felt like another win.

Paige shifted just slightly, knees brushing Soraya's under the surface. It wasn't aggressive. Just contact. Barely enough to mean anything—unless you were thinking about it.

And Soraya definitely was. She didn't move her leg away.

Paige noticed.

"You know," the rookie said softly, "I meant what I said earlier. Couldn't tell if you were enjoying the game or plotting murder."

"That's the point," Soraya shrugged. "Makes it easier to win."

"Makes it harder to stop watching you," Paige said, quieter this time.

Soraya didn't respond. Not with words. Her lips parted like she might—but then she closed them, eyes returning to her screen. And yet, Paige could feel it: the shift. The tiny pulse in the air between them. Like if she leaned forward even just an inch, something would happen.

And surprisingly, she almost did.

But Soraya beat her to it by speaking again, flat but with a current running underneath. "If you keep looking at me like that, y'gonna get ideas."

Paige's smile turned slow. Lazy. "Too late."

This time, Soraya didn't even bother pretending to be unaffected. She looked at her—really looked—eyes dragging over Paige's face like she was trying to memorize it. And maybe she was. But then she blinked and the spell broke.

"Don't make this messy," she said, more to herself than to Paige.

And Paige, without missing a beat, leaned back with a cocky little smile. "Who said anything about mess?"

They fell into silence again. Not tense. Not awkward. But charged.

And as the rest of the team laughed and splashed and cursed the cold around them, Paige and Soraya sat still. Too close. Too quiet. Too aware.

[raevingmadness]

.~*Valentines Day*~.

Billie Eilish x afab!reader

‼️18+ content‼️

‼️Warnings: use of ‘mommy’, strap-on, oral, oral fixation, outside s3x, bottom!Billie, Top!reader‼️

.~*________________________________________*~.

The dirt road sounded gritty and dusty beneath the tires. The truck bumped gently up the hill, engine humming softly. “Are we even allowed up here?” Billie questioned as a gate came into view. “Wouldn’t direct you here if we weren’t.” Y/N spoke with a playful snark, stepping out of the car for a moment to unlock the gate and push it open. She let Billie through before bolting the gate shut again.

As they drove to the top of the hill, Y/N gently stroked Billie’s thigh, gentle enough to be affectionate but lingering enough to suggest something below the surface. “You can go stand by that tree, lemme park.”Y/N told her, nodding to a tree just off the path. Billie hopped out of the truck, obediently moving to wait by the tree, leaning against the bark. She watched her partner park, a soft smile on her lips. Y/N opened up the truck bed where pillows and blankets had been laid out. She gestured for Billie to follow as she got into the truck bed, settling down.

the girls laid down together, eating snacks and taking sips of each other’s drinks. The sun began to set, casting a romantic mix pink and orange hues over their faces. “It’s beautiful.” Billie breathed out, lips parting slightly in awe at the sight. “I’m glad you like it.” Y/N stroked her hair gently as Billie rested her cheek against her shoulder. The beams of sunlight began to dance between the silhouettes of buildings as the sun sunk lower. Billie let out a soft gasp as she felt lips on her neck. She let out an appreciative hum, feeling a hand slide under her shirt.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Billie.” Y/N hummed against her lips, tongue sliding into Billie’s parted lips. The kiss was passionate dripping with love and appreciation. Billie slowly allowed herself to fall back into the pillows set out on the truck bed, her girlfriend leaning over to access her lips. Their kiss grew needy, Billie feeling heat build in her abdomen. The pop star settled herself in the blankets and pillows, lifting her arms so her shirt could slide over her head. She clumsily unclasped her bra, discarding it blindly, not noticing as it went over the side of the truck into the grass. She gasped as lips instantly attached to her nipple. The wind brushed against them, making Billie shiver, goosebumps sliding down her arms. The dark haired girl let out pathetic whines as Y/N teased her bud, licking and sucking just enough to get her excited.

She watched with parted lips as Y/N kissed down her body. She lifted her hips, helping her shorts ease down her legs. “Fuck- don’t tease.” She whined as two digits firmly pressed against her panties. “You’re not in a place to make orders.” Billie pouted at that, helplessly bucking her hips. “Please…please, mommy.” She gasped. “That’s the magic word.”

Billie squirmed as her underwear rolled down her legs. It wasn’t long before those perfect lips she adored so much were pressed to her clit, soft licks rolling through her folds. She gasped, arching her back. She shivered at the cold metal of rings pressing against her hips to keep her still. She spread her legs slowly, squirming as her partner forced her down, devouring her like she was her final meal. She moaned as Y/N slid two fingers into her drooling pussy. “Oh~ there…mmph! Like that…” she breathed out, letting her head fall back against a plush pillow placed perfectly behind her. “Right there, mommy.” She whimpered as the fingers curled in the perfect way, hitting her g-spot. Billie moaned, listening to the wet sounds of her lover’s fingers pumping in and out of her heat. She could feel her heart rate pick up, feel her breathing become ragged and form pathetic pants. “No…” she whined as her girlfriend pulled away completely. She bit her lip, watching as she licked her fingers clean. “C’mere, baby.” Y/N grabbed Billie’s wrist, pressing her palm to her jeans. Her pants had ridden down, revealing the black harness she wore. Billie’s breath hitched, though she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement.

She sat up, hands shaky as they undid the buttons and zipper of her girlfriend’s jeans. She nibbled at her lip, impatience clawing at her as she tugged the woman’s boxers down. “C’mere, honey. Gonna suck on it for mommy, hm?” The taller woman husked pushing Billie’s hair behind her ears. “Mhmm.” Billie nodded quickly, holding the base of the strap as she guided her lips around the tip. Y/N looked so elegant, so powerful. She was watching Billie with darkened eyes, sitting back, elbows resting on the edge of the truck bed. Billie slowly took more of the toy into her mouth, bobbing her head slowly as she rolled her tongue. Crickets chirped in the bushes nearby, the soft rustle of the wind passing through undergrowth and the sound of Billie’s teeth scraping the rubber paired with the slick sound of her spit created a lewd harmony, smothering the innocence of nature around the couple.

Billie was getting impatient, the feeling clawing in her abdomen. She rubbed her thighs together, slick sliding down her thighs. She bobbed her head, tongue stroking the underside of the toy as she pushed herself further. She squeezed her eyes shut, gagging slighting and gargling on her own spit. She let out a hum of gratitude as her partner pulled her off by her hair. She caught her breath, licking her lips and breaking the string of saliva hanging from her lips to the tip of the strap.“Lay down.” Y/N’s tone was husky, she was clearly as needy as Billie.

Billie scrambled to lay down, getting comfy on the blankets. She blushed, embarrassed by how wet she was as her girlfriend spread her legs. “Look at you…” she purred, gathering Billie’s arousal on her finger before licking it off. She lined up the tip of the strap with Billie’s pussy before she rolled her hips forward. Billie moaned, not even attempting to quiet herself. Her head tilted back, jaw dropping slightly. She moaned again as her lover slid her thumb into her mouth, the digit pressing down on her tongue. She sucked obediently, rocking her hips into each thrust. “Needy girl.” Her partner taunted, marking up her neck with hickeys, soothing the bruises with her tongue.

Billie would be embarrassed by how wet she was if it wasn’t so damn hot. She gasped, glancing down to watch the strap disappear into her, only to slide out covered in her arousal. She moaned at the sight, tilting her head back again and suckling on her girlfriend’s thumb. Each thrust made a lewd squelching sound, Billie’s wet pussy clenching around the toy. She pushed a hand down, rubbing her clit in quick circles. “Oh you’re that desperate? Gonna cum, baby?” Y/N husked, thrusts becoming deep and rough. Any attempt Billie made at speaking was muffled and gargled as her spit coated her partner’s digit. Her eyes rolled back, body shaking and eventually going numb as her climax hit her. She pulled her shaking hand from her clit, panting as her lover withdrew her finger from her mouth. “Easy, baby. Did so good f’me, honey.” Y/N soothed the shorter woman, stroking her hair. Billie listened to the words with a dopey smile, letting them envelop her in a comforting warmth. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She mumbled lazily

.~*________________________________________*~.

[nomie-11]

Cupid's Arrow (or Bullet)

masterlist!

synopsis: only one other shooter can keep the talented caitlyn kiramman on her toes, and she may just be falling in love with her

pairings: teen!caitlyn kiramman x teen!reader

Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye. 

Caitlyn lowered her rifle with a glint in her eyes. 

“Yes!” She spun on her heel, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “30 points in three bullets! Beat that, Y/n.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile gracing your face as you grabbed your own rifle. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and the purple petals of the grand tree behind the Kiramman’s shooting range was raining softly down onto the ground. With a huff, you brushed a petal off the scope on the rifle. 

“You know I can’t beat 30 in 3, Cait,” Your eyes roll back playfully, still smiling as you hopped into line beside her. “We can only tie.” 

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so negative—a tie only gives me half the bragging rights to our parents at dinner later.” 

You snorted, shaking your head as you lined up the first shot. Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned slightly to the side, watching you with that perfectly smug glimmer in her sapphire eyes. The setting sun painted her silhouette in warm golds and soft purples, and for a moment, it was hard to focus on anything other than her. 

Shaking your head, you snapped into focus. Caitlyn’s perfect body and silky smooth hair wouldn’t deter you from victory even if your hormonal teenage body really wanted it to. 

The rifle felt steady and familiar in your hands, a testament to the hours the two of you would spend in the shooting range after you got out of manners school and Caitlyn finished with her tutors, and as you exhaled slowly, you squeezed the trigger. 

Bang. The first shot hit dead center. 

“Oh, not bad,” Caitlyn said, her voice teasing but impressed. 

You rolled your eyes and took aim again. Bang. Another bullseye. 

Caitlyn’s brows lifted, her confident grin flattering just a bit. 

This was your favorite part, the part where you inevitably tie her perfect score and fluster her just a tiny bit. She never expected it—and it gave you the perfect opportunity to put a cute little blush on her perfectly pale skin even for half a second. 

“Careful now, Y/n, or you’ll actually—”

Bang. The third and final shot sliced clean into the center of the target. 

The silence stretched for a heartbeat, broken only by the soft rustling of petals in the breeze. You lowered the rifle with a satisfied smirk, turning to face Caitlyn, who was frozen mid-sentence. Her lips were slightly parted, her sapphire eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Actually what?” You teased, raising a brow as you casually slung the rifle over your shoulder. 

Caitlyn blinked, her expression shifting from surprise to playful indignation. She stepped forward, hands on her hips, her usual confidence quickly returning. 

“You actually tied me,” she huffed, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “Again. Do you ever let me win without making it look like I earned it?”

“Let you win?” You giggled, stepping closer. “You know me better than that, Kiramman. If I wanted to let you win, I’d miss the first shot just to keep it believable.”

Her nose scrunched up in that endearing way it always did when she was annoyed, and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Well, I suppose this means we’ll both have to brag to our parents at dinner,” she said with mock seriousness. “Although I’ll make sure to remind them that I hit my score first.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Typical Caity. Always gunning for the last word.”

As the two of you stood there, the sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the range. Caitlyn’s features softened in the light, her confident smirk giving way to something gentler. 

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter now, “I wouldn’t mind if we tied every time. It’s kind of nice… knowing there’s someone who can keep up with me.”

Her words caught you off guard, and your heart gave an unsteady lurch. She looked down at you, her sapphire eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. 

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to recover, “someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. Then, almost shyly, she reached out and plucked a purple petal from your shoulder. 

“I’m serious, Y/n,” she murmured, her hand lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “You’re… different. In a good way.”

Your cheeks burned, and you were suddenly very aware of how close the two of you were standing. 

“Thanks, Caity,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. 

The air between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable. As the last rays of sunlight bathed the range in soft hues, you couldn’t help but wonder if Cupid had traded his arrows for bullets—and hit you square in the heart. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐯𝐢 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 1.8K

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, modern!au, dancer!vi au, dancer!reader, implied smut but sfw, fem reader (gn pronouns used, though), probably some dance discrepancies because i'm not a dancer myself

A/N: I had so much fun writing this; Vi and reader are so sassy like can y'all just fuck it out already... anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ The day your mom took you to your local dance company's performance of The Nutcracker was the day your love for dance began

୨ৎ At 7, you could hardly tell the difference between The Royal Ballet and Piltover Springs Dance School; and to say you were in awe was the understatement of the century

୨ৎ The glittering tutus, the leaps and twirls; you were sure you'd just discovered what you wanted to be when you grew up: A Ballerina

୨ৎ And here you were now; not quite a Royal Ballerina, but, you'd just gotten cast as The Sugar Plum Fairy in the very same annual performance of The Nutcracker you'd seen 11 years ago

୨ৎ You were beaming, trying your best to contain your excitement as the director of the school read out the rest of the cast list, until...

୨ৎ "For the first time in Piltover Springs Dance School history, our board was left completely at a loss when attempting to choose between our two top contenders for Star Senior. For this reason, we unanimously agreed that this year's Senior Showcase will feature both students. We’ve decided on a contemporary duet, and for this piece, we've chosen Y/n Y/l/n, and Violet Lanes. Round of applause for this year's Star Seniors!"

୨ৎ Your smile drops as quickly as it had appeared on your face just minutes ago

୨ৎ What. The. Hell.

୨ৎ You'd been pushing yourself beyond measure to earn this distinction, and if you were being honest, you'd rather not have earned it all than be the first student in the school's history forced to share it; and nevertheless, with Violet Lanes

୨ৎ As much you loved dance, you hated Violet; who was now more commonly referred to as Vi, courtesy of the nickname her first dance teacher gave to her

୨ৎ She’d been taking Hip-Hop lessons at the school for as long as you'd been taking Ballet lessons, and by the time you both started taking the same contemporary dance class in the 6th grade, your instructors had already started placing bets on which one of you it would be to earn the Star Senior distinction

୨ৎ You wonder if maybe you and Vi could've become friends if it weren't for how fiercely competitive you both were

୨ৎ But, alas: the two of you were nothing if not fiercely competitive, and oh how ironic it was that you'd now share the distinction that had driven you two so far apart

୨ৎ Clearly, Ekko was loving the irony

୨ৎ "Alright, alright, Star Senior! I can't wait for this one..." he'd say, rubbing his hands together with a shit-eating grin on his face

୨ৎ "I'm so pissed," you'd laugh incredulously, shoving pointe shoes into your bag, "I’d even let Caitlyn have my goddamn spot instead!”

୨ৎ "Ouch,"

୨ৎ You'd recognize the voice behind you anywhere

୨ৎ "If we're gonna be spending this much time together, you might wanna learn to love me, sugar plum.”

୨ৎ You turn to see Vi holding out a piece of paper- the schedule for the upcoming dance season- and your eyes scan for the following dates and times:

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri- Company Rehearsal: The Nutcracker; 5:30-7:00 PM

୨ৎ Mon, Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri- Senior Showcase Rehearsal; 7:15-8:00 PM

୨ৎ You double, triple, quadruple check that you’re seeing this right

୨ৎ "Every day...?" you whisper, mostly to yourself

୨ৎ "Every day. Short sessions, so we can't really afford not to meet every day."

୨ৎ You look up to find that she's sucking her teeth, trying her best not to crack a satisfied smile at the irritation on your face, and anger pierces through you like a lightning bolt

୨ৎ “You're such a dick,” you seethe, eyes narrowed

୨ৎ She just rolls her own in response, unphased as usual; you'd never been able to get a rise out of her the way she could get one out of you, and that just pissed you off even more

୨ৎ “Look,” she sighs, “I don't want to do this stupid ass duet any more than you do, and I sure as hell didn't bust my ass for this distinction so that I could share it, so let's just get the show over with, and then we never have to see each other again. Cool?”

୨ৎ And you admit- for the first time ever, and certainly not out loud- that she's right; you just needed to get through the next eight months, and then you'd never have to see Violet Lanes again…

୨ৎ But why didn't that feel as good to think about as you thought it would? 

୨ৎ When 7:15 PM rolls around the next evening, you're already spent from your first day of rehearsals for The Nutcracker

୨ৎ You're hot, sweaty, and tired; and when you walk in a minute late to see Vi checking the imaginary watch on her hand, you know the next few months are going to test your patience like nothing has before

୨ৎ “Don’t piss me off,” you spit, shaking your head as you hold a hand out to her

୨ৎ Vi quirks an eyebrow and chuckles through her nose. "Hello to you too, sugar plum."

୨ৎ You scoff at the stupid nickname before you both turn to the instructor, whose eyebrows are raised as he wonders what the hell he's just gotten himself into

୨ৎ The two of you barely speak to each other during your rehearsals; you're just there to learn the moves, and frankly, try not to end each session at each other’s throats

୨ৎ The latter is a bit of a challenge for the two of you, surprising no one, but what does surprise you is the undeniable chemistry you and Vi have as dance partners

୨ৎ You two are quick to learn every move, and even quicker to learn each other; you sync effortlessly… 

୨ৎ Until, the lift

୨ৎ You could not-for the life of you- get the damn lift down

୨ৎ In fact, it takes an entire week of rehearsals just to get halfway there, and even then, it's nowhere near performance-ready

୨ৎ "We might have to scratch the lift and come up with something else," your instructor muses, scratching his chin and looking down at his notebook for other ideas

୨ৎ And Vi is quick to notice the way your face falls in response to his words

୨ৎ To know you was to know someone who demanded perfection from themselves, and it was evident that the idea of not being able to handle something as simple as a lift was going to eat at you

୨ৎ And so, she asks you to stay late that day… a proposal you immediately reject, because,

୨ৎ “I don’t need extra practice, and I certainly don’t need to spend more time with you.”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she’d deadpan, hands on her hips, “Cut the shit. This is why we can’t get the lift down. You freeze up as soon as you get halfway in the air, and when you hesitate, I hesitate, and then I start to drop you, and all of this because you hate me so much that you can’t even relax into a lift you learned to do when you were 15.”

୨ৎ You huff out a laugh, raising your eyebrows and crossing your arms

୨ৎ “Seriously?” You challenge, “Well… maybe you’re just not strong enough to-”

୨ৎ She quirks an eyebrow and gives you a knowing smirk

୨ৎ Yeah… you kinda figured that one wouldn’t work

୨ৎ “Okay… well, I actually learned to do that lift when I was 13, so it’s been a while since-”

୨ৎ “Y/n,” she interrupts, her voice much more stern than the first time your name left her lips 

୨ৎ “What?!” you seethe, now kicking yourself for getting so damn flustered

୨ৎ Vi takes a step forward, and for the first time in your 7-year-long rivalry, her expression softens as she speaks to you

୨ৎ And something blossoms in your belly; something much too close to butterflies for your liking…

୨ৎ “What we’re doing… it’s not working anymore.”

୨ৎ You look up at her through your eyelashes, a pout on your face

୨ৎ You know she’s right

୨ৎ “The break-up speech usually happens after we date, for the record,” you mumble

୨ৎ And she can’t help but laugh, and you can’t help but crack a smile, and have her eyes always crinkled up like that when she laughs?

୨ৎ “C’mon, you know what I mean. You don’t have to like me… but you’ve at least gotta trust me. Just enough for me to hold you in the air for like, three seconds,” she chuckles, “can you do that?”

୨ৎ You stare at her; pensive, hesitant

୨ৎ “I can try.”

୨ৎ “Okay,” she breathes out with a smile, “Then let’s try.”

୨ৎ She presses play on her phone, the same 10-second interval that you’ve heard countless times now begins playing, and you go for the lift; better this time, but she can feel that you’re still unsure 

୨ৎ “Damn it,” you spit as she places you back onto your feet

୨ৎ But this time, her hands don’t leave your hips

୨ৎ “Hey,” she calls out with a squeeze to your sides, “Relax. It’s okay, you’re doing good. I’ve got you, I promise.” 

୨ৎ She’s never talked to you like this before

୨ৎ Had her voice always sounded so sweet? 

୨ৎ Where did that scar on her lip come from?

୨ৎ When did she get this close to you?

୨ৎ “You good?” 

୨ৎ Your eyes snap up to meet hers, and what a pretty shade of blue, and you don’t even mean to lick your lips, and- 

୨ৎ “No fucking way,” she smirks, “you’re checking me out right now?” 

୨ৎ You’re quick to push off of her, immediately denying such claims

୨ৎ “No! What are you talking about? I’m not-”

୨ৎ “Dude, you so are; you just bit your lip!”

୨ৎ “I did not-” you break with a chuckle, closing your eyes. “I was not checking you out.”

୨ৎ“Look at you! Lying through your teeth! It was so obvious, Y/n, I swear to-”

୨ৎ “Are you gonna keep stating the obvious then? Or are you gonna do something about it?”

୨ৎ And oh, did she.

୨ৎ Right there in the studio. 

୨ৎ (And all those mirrors… really makes you think…)

୨ৎ Anyhow... it's safe to say that the next day, your instructor was pleasantly surprised to find that the lift was suddenly no longer an issue

୨ৎ You have your first costume fitting the next week

୨ৎ Your tutu was baby pink, covered in glitter and Swarovski crystals, and stuck straight out from your hips; it was exactly what you dreamed of wearing when you saw The Nutcracker for the first time

୨ৎ You'd beam at yourself in the mirror before turning to Ekko, who was already in his Nutcracker costume

୨ৎ "How do I look?" You'd ask

୨ৎ "Holy shit,"

୨ৎ You and Ekko would turn to the voice you'd recognize anywhere; and there stood a head of hot-pink hair, leaning against the doorframe of the ballet studio, chewing on a granola bar

୨ৎ "You look like a fucking cupcake."

୨ৎ Ekko would let out a bark of laughter, and you'd roll your eyes

୨ৎ "I'm a Sugar Plum Fairy," you'd correct, annoyance lacing your tone

୨ৎ "The Sugar Plum Fairy, lest I not forget," Vi would tease

୨ৎ And Ekko would think he was going crazy when he sees Vi shoot you a wink, and you smile back

୨ৎ “Pretty,” Vi would muse before strolling off into the hallway

୨ৎ Okay, now he was sure he was going crazy

୨ৎ “Wait… Y/n, is that a hickey on your neck?!”

──˚₊• 𝐄𝐍𝐃 •‧₊˚──

P.S. - so do y'all want a full-length dance studio smut scene or...

[saphiccarma]

- The Red Means I Love You

Relationships - Mob Boss!WandaNat x Reader

Summary - Natsha isn't very happy when she finds out about what happened at your last outing and you aren't very happy with the result of your latest mission

Warnings: mentions of sex. Murder of side characters. Let me know if I missed any

Pt.1 Pt. 2

You woke up slowly, first registering the lack of bodies around you, and sat up. Blinking away sleep, you pouted when you noticed Natasha and Wanda were gone from bed. Your thighs ached as you slid out of the bed and threw on an oversized shirt and snagged your discarded panties off the floor. Memories of last night made your cheeks heat as you made your way down the stairs.

Natasha firm grip, her slender fingers, her hot breath in your ear. It left you breathless all over again.

Wanda hadn't participated, supposedly away on some task, but she had come back once you were finished, slipping into the bed next to you. You had tensed, wondering if you should leave, but Natasha had only tightened her grip around your waist and pulled you closer. You think at some point you had snuggled up to Wanda, but you could hardly remember.

It had been a week since you had that weird encounter with that woman in the alley, but you had failed to mention it to Natasha, scared of her reaction. You had said the cut was a mere result of your clumsiness, but you could tell that Natasha didn't fully believe you.

Taking soft steps down the stairs, you meandered into the kitchen. Natasha sat at the counter, her arms crossed as she leaned forward and Wanda stood at the stove, a spatula in hand as she flipped some pancakes. Natasha's head jerked in your direction; a smirk firmly planted on her lips. You made your way over to her, letting out a surprised sound when she gripped your hips and pulled you into her lap.

You squirmed for a moment, getting comfortable, before settling. Her head rested on your shoulder, and you could smell her perfume. Warm breath fanned across your neck as she placed a tender kiss there. You hummed in content, tilting your chin to the side as she pressed another kiss on your neck.

"Sleep well?" she asked, her hands moving from your hips to rest on your thighs, rather high up. You wiggled in her lap, unsure if you were able to do this right now, but Natasha pinned you down.

You forced an answer past your lips, brain still foggy with sleep, "Yeah."

She hummed in content with your answer and pressed a soft kiss to your neck again. Wanda rolled her eyes as she faced the two of you, turning off the stove and reaching up to grab a plate out of the cabinets.

"Breakfast is ready if you're done teasing her Natasha," Wanda gave you a look that could be described as pity, but you also detected amusement in her eyes. You blushed deeply, your cheeks a light shade of pink.

Natasha groaned dramatically against your neck before placing one last kiss and releasing you with a pat on your thigh. You hopped off her lap, legs shaky beneath you, and grabbed a plate off the counter. You loaded a couple pancakes onto it and grabbed a couple sausages that you just now noticed. Wanda and Natasha followed, placing food on their own plates, and you sat down on the table. It was silent as you dug into your food. The quiet was somewhat uncomfortable, but also nice.  

You shifted in your seat while you finished the rest of your food, clearing your throat awkwardly, and Natasha glanced up. She cast a sideways glance at Wanda who hardly paid her attention as you poked around the crumbs on your plate. Licking your lips, you peeked at Natasha, hesitance shimmering in your eyes.

"If you have something to say, say it," Wanda sighed, fixing you with a stern look.

You flushed, dipping your head back down, "Uhm- I maybepossiblygotsnuckuplastweek." When you were given two exasperated looks that told you neither women understood your gibberish, you cleared your throat once more, and quietly mumbled, "I got snuck up on last week."

There was a tense silence that enveloped the room, and you could feel the anger radiating off of Natasha in waves. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her gripping her knife tightly, and Wanda was clenching her jaw. You fidgeted in your seat, shifting and bouncing your leg as you waited for an answer. Natasha had trained you better than that, you were meant to be able to handle yourself.

"Who?" her voice was low, filled with a sharp danger that cut through the silence.

"I'm not sure," you shrugged, but that clearly wasn't the right answer because her glare turned to you and you scrambled for a response, "It was a woman, she had a knife."

Realization clicked in Natasha's eyes, and you could tell she was angry at you now. You sunk into your seat, shoulders rising to your ears, and lips pursing nervously. She shoved out of her seat with a harsh exhale of air and stomped up the stairs. You sat frozen in your seat, listening to her unusually heavy footsteps upstairs, before she came storming down and was out the door in a flash. Wanda spent the whole time casually finishing her food, seemingly not caring for her wife's sharp temper.

When Natasha left, Wanda glanced up at you, a pitying smirk playing on her lips, "She just cares," her voice was light, but it held a tone of warning, "She'll be expecting you later."

You nodded, somewhat numbly, and cleared your plate. Heading upstairs, you got dressed in your clothes from last night, choosing to wear fresh clothes when you got back to base, and prepared to spend the day with an angry Natasha.

^_____________^

The wooden floor was warm as it pressed up against your stomach, a thin cat suit the only thing in between, as you stared down the scope of your rifle. A shaky exhale escaped you as you adjusted it once more. Natasha stood below, her arms uncrossed, one propped on her hip and the other dangling. She looked frightening with her red lipstick that shone in the pale light and her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore tight clothing, not too tight, but if you looked closely, you could see all her curves outlined.

Bucky stood next to her, his arms crossed and metal fingers glinting. He wore a gun strapped around his back, unashamed, while Natasha's were hidden in her boots. She was making a trade deal with Tony Stark, or at least, it was supposed to be that. Supposedly, he had agreed to give Natasha the money, but for some reason you didn't believe it. In the one instance you had met the man, he seemed prideful, unwilling to surrender to Natasha so easily.

Which was the reason you sat up in the rafters, hands clenched tightly around a gun, and one eye closed as you exhaled slowly. You were backup. Although you highly doubted that it would be needed, Natasha was perfectly capable of caring for herself, and Bucky was an absolute machine when he had to be. The door to the building open, a man in a black suit entering. His goatee instantly helped you label him as Stark, and two people trailed behind him. You hadn't seen them before, but they both had handguns strapped to their thighs, and large, bulky statures. One of them carried a suitcase.

You saw Natasha raise a perfect brow; annoyance written across her face. You could tell by her clenched jaw and fisted hand. She had given Stark the explicit instruction to bring no one, and if there were two then there had to be more. Your heart picked up in speed as Tony neared your boss and you saw Bucky's stance tense.

"Stark," she greeted starkly (pun intended), "Do you have the money?" Her tone was clipped, sharp and impatient. It was clear she wanted nothing more than to leave. Since that morning, Natasha had been in a snappy mood and had hardly spoken to you aside from ordering you onto this mission.

Your finger hovered over the trigger as Stark waved his hands around dramatically, "You could say that."

One of the men with the briefcase stepped closer, hauling the luggage to be propped up in his arms, and despite him being occupied, you still rested your pointer on the trigger. He was awfully close to Natasha. The butt of the gun dug into your shoulder from how much you leaned forward. The briefcase was popped open with a satisfying click that even you heard from your perch, but you could hardly see what was inside. Based on Natasha and Bucky's reaction, it was something interesting.

Your breath caught in your throat as Natasha took a step closer, her upper lip curling in distaste. Wiggling so that you leaned over the edge a bit more, you tried to peer into the box, but the lid was still obscuring your view.

"A brand-new arm," Stark gestured again, pride carrying through his tone, "For your little dog."

You could see Bucky conceal a flinch, his eyes hardening and shoulders tensing. Natasha looked up at Stark slowly.

"I asked for money, Stark." She spat his name like it was poison, a curse. The man shrugged flippantly, scoffing. He clearly had no regard for his life, addressing Natasha like that.

He placed a hand over his heart, "I'm hurt. I made this just for you and you don't want it?"

The man behind him shifted his hand to his gun. Your own finger pressed down on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, you aimed the gun towards him. Aim small miss small. You didn't actually want to shoot him; it was just a precaution if he tried anything. Natasha stepped forward, past the briefcase, and grabbed a fistful of Stark's shirt.

You hardly had time to process before you heard a gunshot ring out. For a moment you thought it was one of your people getting shot, but instead Bucky had shot the man with the gun. The one with the briefcase had dropped it, the object falling to the floor with a thud, and his hand was on his gun. Before you could think, your gun was swiveling in his direction and your finger was pressing down on the cold trigger.

The gun sounded off loudly in your ears as you watched the bullet whiz through the air. It pierced the man's head, blood splattering everywhere, even against Bucky's cheek. The brunette looked up at you, shocked, before nodding in approval.

"I'll be getting my money," Natasha snarled, her face right up in Stark's, both unfazed by the two deaths, "Whether I have to force you or not."

She dropped him to the floor, and you faintly saw the man roll his eyes. Natasha turned around, stomping off with Bucky following. Scrambling from your perch, you made your way down. There was a ringing in your ears and a haze coming over your mind.

You had killed a man. Numbly, you climbed into the car, your hands shaking as you buckled yourself and placed the gun next to you. Bucky and Natasha were unfazed by the blood that stained their clothes, the latter too caught up in her rage to notice your current state. You stared down at your hands. You had killed a man. He was going to kill Natasha. But you killed him. His blood had splashed out painting the floor with red droplets, and it stuck to Bucky's chin. You risked a glance up. Red specks dotted his face and there were a few on Natasha's clothes. Your hands were shaking violently.

Desperately, you clenched them into fists, trying to get the shaking to stop. Your rifle laid across the seat next to you.

Natasha had said you would have to kill. She said it wouldn't be easy; it would be shocking. But you hadn't expected it to rock you to your bones and send such a strong feeling through you. A man was dead because of you.

You had killed someone. The thought made your heart clench and you suppressed the thick lump in your throat.

He could have had a wife and kids. He could have- he could have- Your breathing increased rapidly. You tried to reign it in, calm yourself, and it just barely worked, allowing you to keep it together temporarily. In your dazed state, you hardly noticed the way the car was going until it pulled into Natasha's parking lot and the redhead was guiding you out of the car. Her hands were firm against you trembling form as she whispered soft words into your ear.

You heard Wanda ask a question, but the words were no more than nonsense to you. You had killed a man. It was inevitable, you knew that, but it still made anguish pulse through your veins. It was to protect Natasha, you told yourself, although the words did little to snap you out of your state. Guiding you up the stairs, Natasha put you on the bed, disappearing for a moment. Water started flowing in the bathroom. A bath.

She came back a moment later, helping you strip off your clothes as you stared into space, before leading you into the bath. She tried to dip you down into it, but you clung to her stubbornly.

"сердечко," she sighed, her voice unusually soft, "You smell, let me give you a bath. It'll help."

Whining, you shook your head, clinging to her even more. You weren't sure what you wanted, but letting go of her certainly wasn't it. With an exasperated sigh, Natahsa wrangled herself out of your tight grip just enough so that she could wiggle out of her own clothes. You didn't even stop to pause and stare per usual, instead letting her lower both of you into the tub. Natasha spread her legs and let you sit in front of her, her hands splaying across your stomach.

She placed a tender kiss to your temple, "Let's get you washed up."

Her slender fingers were gentle as she washed you up, lathering shampoo in your hair and then rinsing it out only to be replaced with conditioner. Her hands roamed all over you in no way sexual as she scrubbed your body down. You soaked up her care, lost in your thoughts as you stared numbly into the distance.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was soft and light in your ear, breath cold in contrast to the water.

You processed her question just enough to shake your head. Gently, her arms wrapped around you, and she pepper kisses to your neck. It was comforting, having her so close. There was no sexual intent to her movements, merely trying her best to provide a source of comfort that she didn't know how to give. The two of you sat in the tub until the water was cooling and Natasha's lips were turning blue and her teeth chattered. The famed mob boss didn't have the heart to force you out.

Your head lay against her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut every now and then, and chest rising and falling with content. It was moments later when Wanda entered, two fluffy towels in hand, and a slight frown on her face. She took in her wife's state and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"становится мягким?" The younger redhead tilted her head as she crouched next to the tub. (Going soft?)

Natasha glared at her as she shook her head. Wanda sighed but took hold of you under your armpits, ignoring your frustrated whines and attempts to cling to Natasha, and wrapped you up in the blanket. Time passed quickly after that, and when you were finally coming out of your daze, you were wrapped up in a warm blanket, a large hoodie draped across your shoulders, and pressed into Natasha's side.

You both lay on your sides, a hand slung over your waist as well, which you identified as Wanda's, and your breath caught in your throat. Natahsa must have noticed the light return to your eyes because she smiled down at you, her own eyes twinkling. A brief kiss was placed on your nose.

"I killed a man," you whispered, your voice raw and vulnerable. Saying the words out loud made the realization hit hard. You killed someone. What gave you the right? He could have had a life. A wife. Kids. People who loved him and cared about him, yet you disposed of him in mere seconds. Who were you to make that decision?

"Hey," Natasha's hand cupped your chin, tilting your face to look her in the eyes, "You were doing your job." Her words did little to comfort you, but when she pulled you closer, burying you into her, and Wanda pressed herself up against you, that helped. You sighed, somewhat content, and pushed away your emotional turmoil. "I'm proud of you."

You swallowed down the discomfort you felt as those words, instead humming happily and placing a soft kiss to her neck.

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