#WELL ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS PICTURE

[luvergirl-866]

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin’ with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

[pinkkkkat]

Hi!! Hope ur having a good day! Could I ask u to write something abt caitvi x fem!reader who forgets to take care of herself (bonus points if she's a workaholic)

hi i’m SO late i’m so sorry baby

(reader is a student because i’m an overworked student and this is self-indulgent like everything else i write also this is nsfw sorry if that’s not what you wanted anon! no use of y/n)

it’s not new for you to work yourself to the bone. whether it’s pulling more than one consecutive all nighter to get papers finished on time, or spending full twelve hour shifts in the library pouring over your books and notes, you slip easily into an all-work and absolutely no play mindset (not that showering or hey, eating, counts as ‘play,’ but anyways)

usually, nobody notices. so what, you disappear sometimes (for weeks), but you always pop back up looking normal, so it doesn’t draw attention. everyone knew that you were a dedicated student. the only reason caitlyn notices you’ve stopped caring for yourself is because she sees the trait of obsessively working until you drop reflected in herself

you started dating caitlyn and vi in the early summer, so they had ever seen you in your element. when the academy starts back up in the fall, your girlfriends are excited to see the sparkle in your eyes when you tell them about your passion, hands moving animatedly as you talk at a rapid pace. vi often teases you for being a nerd, but cait is much the same, so it’s two against one there

anyways

i think cait would bring it up to vi first, asking if she’s noticed how you’re starting to pull away a little, and when they do get to see you, you’re not yourself. usually, you keep your appearance well put together, hair down and outfit chosen to bolster your look-good feel-good attitude. lately though, the bags under your eyes have become prominent, and some nights you don’t come home, saying you’re gonna work late at the academy, but then not going home at all

at first, vi is just super proud of you, for working hard at what you love. she understands what it’s like to want something so bad that you can’t help but “stay in the grind.” she sends you texts in the group chat often throughout your busy days, pictures of her at the gym or a gif of little cat, always with a message saying she’s so proud of her girl, that she loves you

after cait mentions how worried she is, vi starts to notice that you’re not as cheery as before, on top of the eye bags an disheveled appearance that is starting to become your staple look. she’s frustrated with herself for not noticing and taking care of you, and with you a little for not taking care of yourself. cait convinces her to let her try and help first, as someone with a more similar academic experience

caitlyn starts showing up at the academy, at least once every day. she brings food, and coffee, and sometimes she gets jayce, but more often viktor, out of the lab to accompany you. she always takes your hand, dragging you from what you’re doing to sit with her and just talk. she’s subtle about her worry, not wanting you to feel guilty, but wanting to change your habits slowly without you noticing (cait is so conniving i love her)

as the semester continues, you only seem to get worse, despite cait’s best efforts. cait is consistently holding vi back from saying something blunt, because she doesn’t want to upset you, or to cause you to give up on what you love all together out of guilt. in the end, you end up coming to them, having completely exhausted yourself and tilting your last straw

it’s late when you get to the kirraman household, knowing you girlfriends are there. you don’t know what time it is, the sun having set some uncounted number of hours earlier. you knock on the door (even though you know you can just walk in), embarrassed about how bad you’ve let yourself get. cait opens the door and envelops you in a long hug after taking one look at you, standing on her porch in a big sweatshirt, sniffling a bit, unwashed hair piled onto the top of your head

“oh my darling, come inside”

she’s warm and so soft with you, and you’re already feeling better. cait shushes every attempt you make to apologize, for showing up out of nowhere after not really showing up at all for a little while. she brings you up into her room, where vi sits on the end of the bed

vi nearly knocks you to the floor with the force of her hug. she’s strong, and she’s whispering to you about how much she loves you, and how proud she is of you for coming to them for help when you need it, for recognizing that in yourself. her words bring you to tears, and her arms wrap tighter around your torso. you feel cait join in on the hug, tucking you and vi under her chin and squeezing her arms around you both

they bring you to take a bath, and vi gets in first, hissing at the hot temperature of the water. you sit between her thighs, and she wraps her arms around your torso, calloused hands covering your entire stomach. cait sits on the edge of the tub, asking you about your work, and sternly but lovingly detailing how much time you’re allowed to spend at the academy from now on, until you find an appropriate balance between your work and your life. vi hums in agreement with everything cait says, punctuating every particularly harsh sentence with a soft kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder

they leave you in the bathroom to wash your hair in he shower, and when you come out of the bathroom, you’re wearing one of vi’s hoodies from her gym, and cait’s too long pyjama pants, and you look more refreshed than you have since the summer. you look so cuddly and cute that cait starts cooing at you, and you giggle, batting her hands away when she squishes your face

vi is sitting on the bed, manspreading in that way that she does, and she’s smiling softly at her two girls

(NSFW NOW BTW)

“c’mere baby”

and you do, standing between vi’s legs as she wraps her hands around your waist. you lean down to kiss her, and soon enough her tongue is licking at our b otto’s lip, and you’re opening your mouth to let her in, your hands draped loosely around her neck. you sigh into the kiss when vi’s hands starting palming at your hips, your waist

vi pulls you into her, lifting you effortlessly into her lap so you’re straddling her. the kiss gets deeper, and you whine when vi pulls back. she smiles at you, and tilts her head towards the top of the bed

“how pretty is our girlfriend, huh baby?”

you turn to look, and there’s cait, wearing your favourite set of pink lingerie and sitting up against the headboard, hair down and legs spread open only slightly. you flush a bright red when you see her, mouthing parting slightly when you lick your lips. vi bounces you on her lap for a moment when you don’t say anything

“tell her baby”

“cait, you’re gorgeous”

vi leans into mouth at your neck, murmuring to you about keeping your eyes on caitlyn, and you do. you’re still blushing, silly in your position, but you can’t help it, with how caitlyn is staring at you while vi sucks marks into our soft skin. vi shimmies further onto the bed with you, and hooks her hands under your thigh to lay your down softly on the bed, your back pressed to cait’s chest

cait is immediately sweeping your hair to the side and digging her teeth into the side of your neck, causing a sweet little noise to slip out of your mouth. vi groans at the sound, pressing a strong thigh up against you as your hands make purchase on her biceps. cait’s mouth on your neck is teasing, a nip followed by soothing kitten lick, and vi is holding herself up above you, her free hand hooking under your knee to bring your leg up over her hip as she pushes her leg against you more firmly

eventually, you’re getting desperate and whiny, and vi gives in as soon as she hears the first “vi, please,” slip from your beautiful mouth. she pulls your (cait’s) pyjama pants down, panties too, and your immediately rucking your hips into nothing, searching for some friction to help you out. normally, vi is a lot more teasing, but not today

“vi is gonna take care of you, okay sweet girl?”

and vi does. she presses her hands onto the backs of your thighs, pushing them open and up. without any prelude, she gets to it, licking through your wetness and groaning at the taste. you’re arching away from cait, whose one hand has taken to holding your hips in place to help vi, the other tucking itself underneath your (vi’s) hoodie to pluck at your nipples

it takes no time at all for your girlfriends to have you a whimpering, squirming mess, begging to cum. cait is whispering softly to you, hot breath slipping over the shell of your ear, shushing you and telling you how good you’re being for them, how much you deserve to feel good, and could you cum for them, please?

you do, of course. it cracks through you, hips stuttering on vi’s mouth, legs trying to clamp shut but stopped by vi’s strong hands. vi works you through it until you’re whining and pushing at her head, overstimulated. you collapse in heavy breaths, thoroughly sated and exhausted

caitlyn is instantly tugging at you to turn around, head resting on her chest. she pulls you tight to her with a hand on your waist after readjusting your sweatshirt to be comfy. her spare hand comes up to run through your still-damp hair. vi slides your panties back on but abandons the pj pants, kissing her way up your bare legs and rewinding you of how well you’ve done, and again how proud she is

vi tucks herself up behind you, spooning you, arm thrown over both you and cait. that’s how you fall asleep, pressed tightly between the two of them. you drift off instantly, and over your head, vi and caitlyn smile at each other

you don’t overwork yourself again

[aerynwrites]

Cravings

John Price x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Based on THIS idea that came to me. This is most likely going to be an on going little interconnected one shot series as I already have other ideas for John and his cute lil' pregnant neighbor. Hope you all enjoy this one! Word Count: 3k Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, fluff, soft john price. Next Part

The ceramic plate feels unusually heavy in your hands, but so does your fist as you bring it up to knock on the door in front of you before dropping it again, internally battling with yourself. 

What the fuck are you doing?

That’s the first thought that runs through your head as you stand stupidly in front of your neighbors door, the smell of…something so tantalizing wafting through from the other side making your mouth water. 

Ah, right - silly pregnancy brain basically forced you from your apartment with a plate in your hand because while you don’t know what your neighbor is cooking it smells so fucking good that you fear you might die if you don’t have some of it. 

It’s silly, you know it is, it’s outrageous really - what were you planning to do? Waltz up to this man's door, knock, and then hold out your plate - “alms for the poor pregnant lady please?”

You sigh, dropping the plate by your side as the thought runs through your mind. You almost turn to walk back to your apartment empty handed, but then a faint memory surfaces for just a moment. Your neighbor isn’t a stranger, and while he isn't quite a friend, either - he’s been kind enough. You actually hadn’t run into him all that often, your first interaction with him being a couple months into your pregnancy actually. 

You’d been grappling with a large box, trying and ultimately failing to get it up the stairs to your second floor apartment, stranding you on the landing between the stairs as you stared up at the last flight. You were leaning against the wall, hand on your slightly rounded belly when you heard John’s door open and close, him appearing around the corner shortly after, surprise coloring his features at the scene before him. 

“Need some help with that?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips. 

You huffed out a small laugh, giving him a smile of your own. “Only if you’re offering.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to let you do it by yourself, not in your condition.”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’ at that - hating when people refer to your predicament as a condition. You’re pregnant, not bedridden. 

“Where is your better half anyways?” He’d asked, picking up the box with such little effort it made you jealous, “I outta teach him a thing or two about manners-”

You wave him off, the mention of your baby's father leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Not in the picture,” you say simply, quickly putting an end to the line of questioning.

Your neighbor paused at that, but decided not to push it, staying silent until you reached your door. You unlocked it and told him he could leave the box at the door but he’d insisted on at least putting it inside the apartment. 

“Do you…” he paused for a moment, rubbing his beard chin in thought. “You need help getting it put together?” 

You glance down at the box, it’s just a crib, it’ can’t be that hard.

You give him a warm smile, shaking your head. “You’ve been plenty of help, I should be able to get it from here.”

He nods, turning back towards the door before stopping just past the threshold and holding his hand out towards you. “John Price. I’m over in 2C if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

You shake his hand, and smile before he heads back down the stairs. 

John Price…

Your interactions past that had been spread thin - although you did end up asking for his help with the crib - it was in no way a one person job. But other than that…it was just friendly conversations or waves as you passed one another in the hallway or stairs. 

But as you stand here, the smell of food getting stronger and more inviting, his words replay again. 

“Don’t hesitate to ask…”

Fuck it. 

You reach up and knock on his door before you can stop yourself, clutching the plate against your chest as you hear a faint call from inside, and then the smell of whatever the hell he’s cooking is hitting you full force as the door swings open. 

Your name falls from his lips as he looks at you, that slight look of surprise on his face once again as he takes you in on his doorstep. You probably are a sight - leggings, oversized sweatshirt, only in your fuzzy socks and a plate in your hand. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound so stupid,” you begin, rushing to explain yourself. “But I was in my apartment and I started to smell whatever it is that you’re cooking and it just smells so good, and I tried to just make something else but it didn’t seem nearly as appetizing and I just-”

You let out a frustrated huff, holding out your plate in shameful defeat, “Can I just…Can I just have a little of whatever it is that you’re making? because now I’m craving it and I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about it.”

The silence that follows your request makes you want to shrivel up in embarrassment, but it’s soon washed away as gentle laughter meets your ears. You watch as John has to almost physically support himself on the doorframe as he tries and fails to contain his laughter. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but before you can protest or bite back, he’s stepping back into his apartment, opening the door a bit wider. 

“Why don’t I do you one better and invite you in for dinner?” He says, eyes bright with amusement.

Pulling the plate back to your chest in a mock hug, suddenly unsure. “Are you sure?” You ask, voice small, “I don’t want to intrude.”

He shakes his head, reaching an arm out to guide you inside, “Nonsense, I made too much for one person anyways,” he says, closing the door behind you once you enter. 

“I hope you like Indian food,” he says, moving to slip past you towards the kitchen, “Does spicy food bother you?”

At the mention of Indian food, you can feel yourself practically drooling. You’ve had an affinity for spicy foods as of late, and curry has been your go to. 

“God no,” you practically groan, moving to follow him into the small apartment kitchen, “Spicy food is the one thing I can’t get enough of as of late.”

The kitchen in this apartment is identical to your own. It’s attached right to the living room, separated only by a half wall breakfast bar type set up, so you’re able to watch as John turns his back to you to tend to the food still on the stove. 

There’s a small empty space off to the side of the kitchen and living room - clearly meant to be a small dining area of sorts but John has turned it into a makeshift office. A small desk littered with papers and folders haphazardly stacked together and an open laptop, screensaver up on display. 

“Make yourself at home,” John calls over his shoulder, the soft clinking of dishes accompanying his words, “food’ll be done in a moment.”

Put slightly more at ease by his words, you finally set your plate down on the breakfast bar top, taking a moment to look around the space. 

The living room is sparsely decorated, clearly a man’s apartment - but it’s more than that. It’s utilitarian, almost…cold. You’ve started to notice that John is sometimes gone for long stints of time, maybe that’s why it’s so impersonal, he doesn’t spend much time here. Yet, despite the lack of decor or personal touches, you do notice small things that just scream John - at least from what you know of him. 

The fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table, half smoked cigar sitting unlit in the well. The half empty glass of dark amber liquid sitting right next to it, condensation pooling on the coaster beneath it. There is a simple leather couch up against the back wall of the living room right across from an entertainment center and TV. Two small bookshelves bracket the entertainment center, and without thinking, your feet carry you over to them. 

They’re filled with books of all sorts - mostly nonfiction - but you catch some classics among the plethora of autobiographies and self-help books. Catcher in The Rye, The Nickel Boys, and Moby Dick, to name a few. But the one that draws your attention the most is one book sitting on the shelf closest to the door, lying face down as if he had been in the middle of reading when he was interrupted by something. 

The Hobbit. 

You smile, turning from the book as you turn to walk back towards his makeshift office space and thus, the kitchen. 

“Didn’t take you as a Tolkien fan, John.”

He turns to look at you as you come to the entrance to the kitchen, giving you a small smile, and a sheepish shrug before turning back to stir the pot.

“One of my coworkers recommended it to me,” he defends, before adding, “although I’ll admit it’s growing on me.”

As he was speaking you turned and took a few more steps into his office space, eyes drawn to the screensaver on the laptop. It’s four men in military gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, and it only takes you a moment to spot John among the bodies. He’s smiling wide in the photo, arm wrapping affectionately around the neck of a dark skinned man to his left, while his other arm is wrapped more casually around another man to his right. This man is also smiling wide, piercing blue eyes crinkled in delight as he seems to be laughing, the sides of his head are shaved and he has a short mohawk. Your eyes finally trail to the last member of the group, who’s one arm is around the man with the mohawk, while his other arm is rested casually atop the rifle hanging around him. But what stands out the most is the stark white skull mask on his face, hiding everything but his dark eyes. 

“You’re in the military?” You ask, moving to stand up straight once more, wincing at the slight twinge in your back as you do so. 

You hear John approach from behind you, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he comes to stand next to you. 

“That I am,” he says, and you don’t miss the way he tucks some papers beneath other folders. Not for your eyes apparently. 

You smile when you look at the picture, “You look happy here,” you say, pointing to the screen.

John nods beside you, smiling fondly again. “It was a good day,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “mission went well for once.”

He reaches out and points to the man on his left, “That’s Gaz,” he moves to the one to his right, “Soap,” he finally moves to the man with the skull mask, “and that’s Ghost.”

You hum, slightly confused by the names, but recalling a faint knowledge of military personnel getting nicknames sometimes. You choose not to question it, instead giving in to your teasing nature as you point to John in the picture. 

“You skipped over the handsome one,” you say, voice teasing. 

You watch in silent triumph as John clears his throat, and if it weren't for his beard, you’re sure you’d see red adorning his cheeks. He waves his hand at you, shaking his head as he chuckles. 

“Oh, come off it,” he chastises lightly, “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn and move towards the kitchen where John already has two plates of butter chicken and rice plated up and ready for you both. You move to help him but he brushes you off with a small ‘tsk’ sound before sliding past you and leading you back into the living room. 

“I hope you’re alright eating at the coffee table,” he says sheepishly, setting the plates down, “Never got around to getting a proper dining room table.”

You smile at him, trying to be reassuring as you take a seat on the couch, “perfectly fine with me. It’s where I eat most of my meals too.”

He seems to relax at that before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning shortly with two glasses of water, setting one in front of you and then his own plate before taking a seat next to you. You wait, not all that patiently for him to get comfortable before you finally dig into the food that started this whole silly debacle, and the moment you do, you can’t stop the groan that slips past your closed lips as you chew. 

It’s fucking amazing.

Better than the Indian restaurant you frequent, and much better than anything you’ve ever tried to cook. The seasoning is perfect, the curry is the right consistency too and it’s just-

“Holy shit, John,” you manage after swallowing another bite of food, taking a sip of your water as he laughs around his own bite. 

“I take it you approve then?” He asks, blue shimmering with amusement. 

You hum happily, taking another bite before replying. “More than approve, this is phenomenal, better than any indian take away I’ve had.”

He smiles at that, “I’ll take the compliment then.”

You nod, now trying to force yourself to slow down and savor the dish in front of you. “As you should.”

It’s quiet for a moment before John reaches for the remote laying on the table. “Fancy anything in particular?”

You think for a moment before shaking your head, “whatever you usually watch is fine.”

He nods, turning the TV on and switching to a streaming service before flicking through the various ‘recently watched’ shows. You can’t stop the way your brow raises when you see The Great British Baking Show among the list. 

“You watch baking shows?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. 

John chuckles, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “call it a guilty pleasure,” he jokes before clicking on the most recent episode. 

The rest of the meal passes in an air of comfort, the only sounds at first being the scrape of utensils against plates and the show playing on the TV. Neither of you really notice when you both finish eating and lean back into the couch, eyes glued to the screen and critiques falling from both your mouths. 

“She forgot the fucking eggs!” You cry at the TV, incredulous that one of the contestants forgot a key ingredient in their cake. 

John practically groans beside you, “it’s probably for the best,” he says, cringing slightly as it switches to another baker whose cake is crumbling apart as they try to decorate it. “She tried to pair pickles with a chocolate mousse last episode-”

“She what?” You look at him surprised for a moment before sinking back into the couch. “Wait…that actually might not be that bad-”

This gets another laugh out of the man beside you and you hear him mumble something about ‘weird pregnancy cravings’ before you both go back to watching the show. 

The evening passes much like this, both of you watching a few more episodes before your eyes fall to the clock on your phone, eyes widening at the time. 

“Oh my gosh it’s late,” you say, sitting up straighter, hand falling to your belly when the movement causes a twinge. 

You must make a face because, John is sitting up now too, eyes falling down to where your hand lays. “No need to rush,” he assures you, moving to stand and offer you his hand. “I’m not kicking you out.”

You smile up at him as you take his hand, fighting the heat that rushes to your cheeks, “Well you could have,” you say softly, “I definitely overstayed my welcome.”

The man before you just shakes his head, “none of that now,” he assures you, “If I’d wanted you gone, I would’ve said something. I..” He trails off, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “I liked having the company.”

Now you really blush, ducking your head as your hand rubs absentmindedly over your stomach. “I..I liked it too. Nice change of pace. Thank you for inviting me in,” you tug your lip between your teeth before continuing. “I know it was a weird request and you could have turned me away - should have probably but…Thank you.”

You look up then only to see John giving you that warm smile you’ve come to be familiar with, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Anytime,” he says softly, before he shifts, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot-”

He hurries back to the kitchen, pulling something from the fridge before returning to you. He holds out a Tupperware container, obviously filled with leftovers from dinner. 

“Saved some for you,” he says, urging the container into your hands when you don’t take it immediately.

“John I-” you shake your head, looking down at the container, “You already fed me, I don’t want to take your leftovers too-”

He waves his hand sharply, cutting you off. “I made plenty,” he promises, “I still have some. There was plenty left to give you.”

A small silence falls over you, gratitude and warmth filling your chest with a fuzziness you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since your last relationship, not since you got pregnant. It’s been too long since someone cared for you instead of the other way around, and the simple gesture makes your eyes burn with the threat of tears. 

Not now, pregnancy hormones!

You smile, clothing the container tightly to you before looking up at John again. He still has that soft look on his face, and before you can think better of it, you lean up on your tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you, John.”

And then you turn and exit his apartment before either of you can find time to feel embarrassed about your actions. 

But, you left so quickly you missed the blush on John’s cheeks, and the way he brought one hand up to touch the spot you kissed. 

Fuck.

He’s a goner. 

[spacelizzbian]

@doyelikehaggis

Hi!! Happy belated @glartswap and I hope your year will be filled with all the good stuff and hugs 😌

Anyway have some Glee girls chillin~~

(Based on this poster I found)

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

“No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[smashing-teacups]

Epilogue: A Breath of Snow and Christmas

A/N: At long last, a happy ending for our favorite couple and their family in A Breath of Snow and Christmas. ❤️🎄I know we all need as much joy and distraction as we can get at the moment. Hope you've enjoyed the journey!

“We can’t get through the fire, Milord!” I cried, holding an arm up to shield my face. “What should we do?!”

Crouched behind the recliner a few feet away, Da adjusted the tied-together masks he was using as a knight’s visor. “Aye, this dragon’s a fearsome beast,” he agreed, and right on cue, Mom growled and gnashed her teeth. “But we’ve no choice. We must free the princess from its vile clutches!”

The princess was too little to be any good at playing pretend; turning around in the dragon’s lap, she stuck a hooked finger into its mouth and pried it open. “‘Gain? ‘Gain, Mama? Go raaaaaawr!”

The dragon roared again on demand, and my baby sister clapped. “Oh, goo’ job!”

“As ye can plainly see, the princess is in distress,” Da pressed on, blue eyes glittering. He was much better than me at staying in the game; I had to smash a hand over my mouth to cover a laugh. “We’ll have to devise a clever plan to get past the dragonfire. Have ye the magic wand, lad?”

Da was always throwing curveballs at me like that — he hadn’t said anything about a magic wand before we started the game. I looked around super fast, trying to find something that would work. “Umm…” Eyes landing on the bedside table, I gave a triumphant “aha!” and snatched up an empty saline flush. “Got it, Milord!”

“Well done. Now, on the count o’ three, I’ll jump out and distract the dragon. Once she’s turned away, you’ll cast the freezing spell. ‘Stad,’ ye tell it. ‘Stad!’” I repeated the Gaelic for him, and he nodded in approval. “You’ve got it. At the ready, then. One, two—”

“Fwee!” the tiny princess squealed, throwing her hands up.

“Over here, ye demon-breathed beastie!” Da taunted as he popped out from behind the recliner to jump around and make a scene. “Why don’t ye pick on someone yer own size?”

Dragon-Mom looked him up and down, thinking about it. “Hmm. Well, it’s a tempting offer. There is more flesh on you, which means more barbecue for me…” Just as she started to crawl down the hospital bed toward him, I leaped out from my hiding place behind the couch bed.

“Stad!” I bellowed, pointing my saline wand at her and wishing there was some water left in it; I would have caught her by surprise and squirted it at her and got the best shocked face. Mom made a really hilarious face anyway when I froze her, holding her mouth open in a wide snarl as her whole body went stiff. Da did chuckle out loud then, fishing his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture.  

“Get out of here with that!” Mom smacked at him, laughing too, and I took my chance — she was too distracted to notice when I snuck up behind her to grab the princess and her IV pole and run to ‘base’ at the window bench.

Keep reading...

[hannahssimblr]

Odd sensation, the tattoo gun. On the internet, they said the forearm wasn’t bad. One of the least painful spots, which is why I try to suppress my wince as the needle buzzes over my skin. 

“It’s more painful when you’re tired or dehydrated, by the way,” says Kwan, the artist, her chewing gum smacking in her mouth over the sound of thrash metal. 

“Right, right. I guess I’m always dehydrated a bit.”

“He never drinks water,” Jonas pipes up from the sofa. “I remind him of it all the time, but he won’t.”

“Everything wrong with my life probably comes back to that,” I grin at Kwan, and the corner of her mouth ticks up. 

“You’re cute,” she says. “Pretty little face. How old are you guys?”

“Twenty,” Jonas says. “At least me. Jude is still nineteen.”

“Wow. Little babies,” Kwan wipes pooling black ink with a tissue, revealing a thin curved line along my forearm. Weird, I think, looking at it. That’s there forever now. Every day until I’m dead, I’ll look down and there’ll be something on my arm. 

“And what brings you to Phuket?” 

“Well, to be honest, Kwan, we came here just for you,” I say. Her eyes flick to my face, and she sighs with resignation. “You’re good, you know that? You’re going to go far. Going to break some hearts.” 

“We’re backpacking,” Jonas clarifies. “Bangkok for a week, Phuket for another, then we’re going to the Phi Phi Islands and Koh Samui. Jude is acting on complete impulse with this tattoo. I think he is probably trying to flirt so that you like him.”

“And the mango,” she says, now delicately inking the leaves. “Is it personally significant?”

“No, I just liked it. Your art is nice. Never thought I’d get a tattoo because I thought they were all, you know, big thick lines and shit, but yours…”

“Thank you.”

“And like, I guess the mangoes here taste really good, so I could say it’s a memento of my time in Thailand.”

Kwan exhales a laugh. “And not too much between your ears, I see, which is good. Otherwise I think you would doom womankind.”

I grin. “God, Kwan, I love when women insult me. It’s my bread and butter.”

The tattoo gun hits a nervy patch of skin near my inner elbow and I hiss through my teeth. “Ah!”

“Too much?” 

Then I laugh. “Yes. No. Maybe it depends, doesn’t it? I hope this is worth it.”

Later, strolling the beach, I take a photograph of my arm wrapped in plastic and send it to my mother. 

Look what I did.  Why would you do that to your body???? 

She gets back. 

Is that permanent??? 

I cackle. 

“What are you laughing at? Did you send that to Astrid?”

“No, to my mom. She doesn’t approve.”

“Oh,” Jonas frowns, as though this is of deep concern. “Doesn’t her reaction disappoint you?”

“No, I knew she’d hate it, and now she’s going to show my dad and he’ll hate it even more. It was the same when I pierced my ears on holidays. He doesn’t think men should do things like that, and whatever.”

“And you like that he is outraged?”

“Yeah, it’s funny. He hates everything I do regardless, so like, might as well lean the whole way in, you know?”

“You should send the picture to your dad.”

“Nah, I don’t really… I don’t, like, text him… or anything like that.”

“Never?”

“Nah. He wouldn’t respond, anyway. It’s better to get a reaction from my mom.”

He hesitates, getting ready to attempt some conversation, no doubt, that I haven’t much interest in having. I feel my defences rise before he opens his mouth. A blanket of emotional exhaustion settling over me. “You haven’t spoken too much about your father before,” he says. “I assumed you are not close, but—” 

“Please,” I say. “Let’s not.”

“But I am just thinking about how—”

“Jonas, it really doesn’t have to be like this. It’s really not a fun conversation to have.”

“Right. It’s just that you’ve even had dinner with my stepfather when he came to visit, and you know all about my father and my half brother and–”

“Yeah, I know. Max was a nice man. It was a nice dinner, but just because you’ve shared stuff with me doesn’t mean I have to share back.”

“But don’t you think since we’ve known each other for months now, and we are friends, that you should tell me something about your family?”

“You telling me personal things doesn’t make you entitled to know things about me.”

“Yes, but just some basic facts. What is your father’s name?” 

“Chris.”

“Christian?”

“Topher. Christopher.”

“And he is American.”

“Yes.”

Jonas leaves space for me to elaborate, and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. How old I do feel when people ask me about my dad? Twelve, every single time. Twelve, and destroying his stupid rare collector’s book purely for attention. He lost his mind and whacked my face with the back of his hand. Wedding ring rapped across a cheekbone. Was exhilarating to see him display an emotion. I remember laughing on the floor with hysterical glee among the shredded pages. A vindictive little winner. 

“He was born in California. He has four brothers. He studied dental medicine at the University of New Mexico, then he got my mom pregnant and married her.”

Another pause. “I see it was difficult for you to say that.”

“It was fine.”

“He was in university when you were born?”

“Yeah. He was twenty-one.”

“And your mother?”

“Nineteen.” 

“Your age.”

“Yes, my age. Terrible for her, I suppose. I don’t know. She’s fine. They’re both fine.”

He nods. “So you are determined to remain a mystery.”

“I’m determined to enjoy my trip, to be honest.”

“Well, thank you for sharing facts about your father.”

My arm is already sweating under the layers of plastic, beaten by the sun. Kwan said I shouldn’t expose the tattoo to sunlight. Then why did I get this thing? On holidays by the beach, about to spend another two weeks island hopping, and how hot is it? Thirty-seven? Forty? Sometimes my own reasonings are mysterious to me. 

“Let’s do something else,” I say, agitated by myself and everything around me. “What’s next?”

“You just got a tattoo, and now you are already looking for more excitement?”

“Yes, come on, I’m bored.”

“Okay, okay, let’s think of something.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Hey I just recently came across your account and I just adore your stories. I especially loved the one about the sonic x single parent reader, which is part of an idea I had for an ask.

It would be after that and maybe they’re out and about when they encounter Shadow. I was thinking maybe the child would just be in awe of him and how he looked so cool. Shadow wouldn’t think much of it, but I can see him seeing how much it bothered Sonic and would just be so smug about it and just keep showing off to the kid just to get a rise out of Sonic.

As far as if there’s any interaction between Shadow and the reader I’ll leave up to you.

Anyway, hope you’re doing well and I can’t wait to see what else you write up! Thank you for all you’ve written and keep up the good work! 👍

“I’m Always Happy to Help, but Why Him?!”

(A continuation to “Always Happy To Help!”)

Pairing(s): Sonic the Hedgehog x Parent Reader, background Knuxadow (Knuckles x Shadow), Shadow the Hedgehog & [Child’s Name] (platonic)

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: Having Shadow as your friend was always nice. But not when a certain blue-quilled partner got jealous.

Notes: I love me some smug Shadow so this’ll be fun! Hope you enjoy! And thanks for the positive comments! ^^

(Like last time, Reader and [Child’s Name] will be gender-neutral!)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

It had been about a week since you had told Sonic about [Child’s Name]. But you hadn’t introduced them to anyone else. So you had planned to meet up with Shadow, and of course, Sonic wanted to come along, presumably to race with him if the time came.

Typical Sonic.

The four of you decided to meet up at Rose’s Bakery, where Amy got the four of you a table in the back, giving [Child’s Name] a coloring book and a cupcake.

“So…this is your kid?” Shadow asks.

“Yep! I figured, after Sonic, you should be the next to know since you’re one of my best friends,” you tell him. Shadow lets out a nod before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Baba! Lookie, lookie!” [Child’s Name] says, getting your attention. They hold up a drawing, it being a picture of you, Sonic, Amy, them, and Shadow. You let off a smile, ruffling their fur.

“Good job, baby,” you tell them. “I’ll put it on the fridge when we get home.”

“Yaaay!” [Child’s Name] cheers.

Shadow seems to let off a soft smile as well seeing himself in the picture.

“Is that Shadow the Hedgehog smiling I see?” Sonic asks, causing Shadow’s smile to go away, replaced with a scowl.

“Good going, Sonic, you ruined it,” you say with a joking grumble.

“Yeah, good job, Dada!” [Child’s Name] copies.

“Aw come on! I was just teasing!” Sonic says with a slight pout.

You let out a giggle before kissing Sonic on the nose, causing [Child’s Name] to pretend gag and causing Shadow to roll his eyes.

“So, how has Knuckles been treating you?” you ask Shadow.

Shadow’s face slightly turns green but he smiles fondly.

“He’s been treating me well,” Shadow states. “He’s been showing me around Angel Island. It’s…It’s been amazing.”

You return his smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you tell him. “You deserve it after everything you two have been through.”

[Child’s Name] looks over at their untouched cupcake.

“Baba, ‘m not hungy,” [Child’s Name] says.

“Oh, that’s alright! We can save it for later,” you tell them.

Before you can grab the cupcake, [Child’s Name] takes it and pushes it towards Shadow.

“For uncle,” [Child’s Name] says.

Both Sonic and Shadow look surprised, but Shadow takes the cupcake with a small smile.

“Thank you, little one,” Shadow says.

“Aw man! What about Papa Sonic??” Sonic asks.

[Child’s Name] sticks out their tongue at Sonic, causing you to burst out laughing as Sonic sputters in disbelief and Shadow smirks.

This was going to be an interesting turn in their rivalry.

[spookytreerebel]

BYLERS!! Have you seen the supposedly filtered picture of Mike and El that everyone thinks they're kissing? 😰💔💔💔💔💔😿😭

I see it but I have my doubts as I cannot see it well the image is like pixeled....

I know nothing is certain and they're many hints about byler endgame but that doesn't mean that heard and see this don't make my heart feel broken in pieces😰😭😭😭😭

Maybe I should watch or read byler analysis to make me feel better...

IDK what to believe I'm sorry today is one of those days where I think hopes from byler are down😿💔

Anyways, love you all 😞💗

[summers-art]

need to know ab tomorrow comes today please

🎵Song #33 Tomorrow Comes Today by Gorillaz 🎵[Full playlist]

ABSOLUTELY!! Thanks for asking, Gorillaz and Daft Punk really shaped my childhood with their music (Gorillaz 2001, Demon Days, Discovery, Human After All); that's why I had to include their music 🫶💚

So this is very late in the playlist so let me catch you up to speed on the playlist story:

Okay great, now you're all caught up!

So Metal Overlord came into the picture (Song #30-31) and got his ass beat, naturally (Song #32 The Line) and now we're here in the aftermath of the battle. Things are looking pretty bleak, but still open enough to not be completely hopeless. It's kinda hard to talk about this song without also rambling about the other one's before and after it so I'm gonna do it along with the lyrics since they're pretty short anyway.

LYRICAL BREAK DOWN BELOW 👇

Everybody's here with me Got no camera to see

Very much a reference to #32 The Line's lyric: "Please don't let them see me" which is like ...oops! This is the big boss battle my guy, like in the end of Sonic Hereo's - literally everyone is here to see this shit!! That must be so embarrassing for you 🫤 ooooh well, that's what happens when you have a public mental breakdown I guess. The camera I think could also literally be his screen eyes thing, maybe that got smashed in during the fight. Bc I love pain 💔

Don't think I'm all in this world The camera won't let me go The verdict doesn't love our soul The digital won't let me go

Like the whole playlist has been toying with: strings, wires, entrapment, the machine is inescapable. Metal is a robot so of course the digital won't let him go. It's literally a part of who he is. You cannot change this Puppet boy, I'm sorry baby.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll pay (yeah, yeah)

The defeated attitude!! Makes me so depressed. Metal Overlord lost the big battle and now he's just like yea okay... I give up, you won. I'll pay for everything, the damaged I caused and all that shit. I don't care anymore. This is like his lowest point, so the way this is phrased and sung is just so perfectly sad to me, I love to suffer 💔💔

When tomorrow, tomorrow comes today

☝️HOLD ON! The talk about the future is still like, a CRUMB of there still being hope. You wouldn't talk about a tomorrow if you didn't think there was one- would you? At least, I interpret the line when tomorrow comes today as in: it hasn't happened yet.

Stereo, I want it on It's taken me far too long

LET ME GET META HERE FOR A SECOND- it could have been pretty easy to end the whole playlist here and leave on a very bittersweet/open ended note of Metal Overlord being defeated and then we just don't know what happens from there. But leaving the stereo on? Yea there are literally two songs left here on the list. So leaving the stereo on to play these last two songs changes the vibes of the story and the characters trajectory A LOT ACTUALLY.

The taken me far too long also perfectly reflects the last two songs that are yet to come; Song #34 Too Long (lmao) and then #35 Love Like You, notably the line: "When I see the way you look / Shaken by how long it took". But I shouldn't go too much into that one as I have an ask for that one to break down so I'll go over all those details at a later time teehee 🩷

Don't think I'm all in this world I don't think I'll be here too long I don't think I'll be here too long I don't think I'll be here too long

Oh lord, oh no- the brain fog is hitting him, the disassociation is taking over. That is one of those aspects I've also tried eluding too in previous songs on the list like, especially as a cue for when the murder robot programming has kicked in. Listing examples from the top of my head we have: #11 Kitchen Fork: "Who's that kid who wakes each night / Takes me on these wretched rides?" (I could list every single lyric of that song, please ask me about this song)

#24 Blur "Can't remember what I did last night / Maybe I shouldn't have given in / But I just couldn't fight" #27 Magnum Bullets: "My conscience paralyzed / Against the rising tide / Of haunting memories that drown a wasted life"

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll pay When tomorrow, tomorrow comes today

We have reached the end, I have nothing new to say about the lyrics. But I think the songs flows pretty well into the song after that, Too Long. Like The Line has a drum beat that kinda comes and goes, it is very ethereal sounding more reliant on piano to keep the pulse, then Tomorrow Comes Today has a darker sound and grounded beat that goes throughout the song and then we have Too Long which got an even steadier drum machine and a slow build electric dance song. There is an evolution here... I hope people see/hear it and that I am not making shit up. I want to say my 10 years in Music education gives me some ethos here

I knew I wanted another Daft punk song but it took me too long (HAH) to decide on which one. I almost went with Something About Us and I LOVE that song, it is a perfect song for when you are dying and want to confess your love, or a forbidden love - enemies to lovers sorta stuff or what have you. But that was also when I had Rusty Cage by Soundgarden on the list bc I wanted a hopeful ending about Metal breaking free!! But I wasn't happy with how I could make it flow in the playlist so once that sound was out so was Something About Us and Too Loong sorta replaced them both but for different reasons. That's just how the cookie crumbles sometime. I'm happy with the choice tho, I love that song, idc if it's 10 minutes long it is going on my playlist that is already 2 hours long and you will LIKE IT! I could've ended the playlist at Too Long but I hated that it just faded at the end and didn't have "a real ending" so to speak so that's why Love Like You survived the cut, that song actually makes the transition to the 1st song sound rly good which I do pay attention to because I have this playlist on repeat like a madman.

Okay I think I'm done rambling about this, for now

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

thinking about how mulder loves to get scully a gift, usually terribly heartfelt, even if disguised as something flippant:

the superbowl vhs tape he brings her when she wakes up from her coma in one breath (and her deadpan "i knew there was a reason to live")

tickets for a football game to watch together in irresistible

bringing her flowers to the hospital in memento mori (he lies, saying he stole them from a guy with broken legs to make her laugh)

the birthday keychain in tempus fugit (and when she finds a meaning to it, he claims "i just thought it was a pretty cool keychain")

that is a man who is always thinking about her.

[shepscapades]

shep I was talking to my brother about dbhc xisuma as one does and mentioned that ask about not being able to puzzle xisuma's face together mentally and my brother joked that the reason you put the spoiler bars and such on his face is cause you cant draw his whole face yet 😂

anyway I might have talked his ear off about dbhc idk tho lmao

LMAOO NOOOO!!! MY SECRET FINALLY IS OUT!!! /silly

[myokk]

cool down sketch of Eloise & now I’m going to bed😇😇

[trickstersaint]

Hi! I've just stumbled across your 'patron saint'-quiz and I love it! 🖤 The way you put the answers to the questions is flawless, especially the 'heart'-question and the afterlife-question, not to mention the results! One gets the impression that you really put your heart in this quiz. My results are eerily fitting - same for a friend who I made take your quiz as well.👍 I'm wondering whether it is possible to read the other result texts somewhere as well? (Or would I have to play through the quiz again with some different educated guesses?) Thanks for creating this quiz and all the best for you. 🫂 Enjoy the day/night 🤗

hi!!!! so glad you like the quiz!!!! i definitely had a lot of fun making it, and it's been really fun seeing people's reactions to it too :)

happy to share the other results! putting them below <3

[vancalox]

having a lavellan who is kind of an absolute demon in her own right is so much fun because sure that cut content of "oh solas didnt deserve a happy ending but lavellan did" is lovely and worth centering in the conversation.... but you know what else hits? "oh my god i dont even care anymore" "if this is what it takes for them to both fucking LEAVE thedas then good riddance"

[rainoverthewindow]

Snowgrave Berdly my dear boy