#all my posts this week have been about it

[mytherapyisreading14]

Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?” You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, You really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

-

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

-

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of ​​being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

[aerofbreath]

DP x DC Prompt

There are a few changes whenever it comes to being the Ghost King. None of which Danny has noticed.

Being the High King of the Infinite Realms almost makes you a god, so all of his subjects will really see him as such. Whenever they look at Danny, whether in his human form or as a ghost, they see him as something truly beautiful. It's almost like there's an alluring glow around him, leaving everyone almost breathless.

For some reason, he's in Gotham (There actually is a reason, but that's a post for another time) and he's been invited to a Startup Event so he can be able to find funding for the company he's started to make. Due to the rumors around him being a skilled engineer, Bruce had sent Jason in to help make investigations since he's learned that Danny lives right in the heart of Crime Alley.

Jason, now wanting to know everyone in his turf finally finds Danny and being as someone who's been dead and revived, he qualifies to be one of Danny's subjects. Only, Jason obviously doesn't know that.

So here Jason is, really trying to wrap his brain about why he thinks this man who looks like he hasn't slept in three weeks (actually, it's 3 and a half weeks thank you very much) is the most beautiful person he's ever seen. The way there's a subtle glow only visible to him. The way he smiled, albeit awkwardly.

Danny, on the other hand, is just confused as fuck. He sees Jason and goes, "Oh! Someone interested in maybe funding me! Here! Let me info dump on you about how it works!" and Jason is just like, "Uhuh yeah. You're pretty."

"What?"

"What?! I said your company is pretty."

"My company is pretty?"

"Pretty cool! I said your company is pretty cool. I- Uh- I have to go." Jason just leaves a blushing mess.

Bruce, in the batcave is just confused as to why his son is having a bisexual crisis in the middle of a mission. Dick is just laughing his head off watching his stone cold brick of a baby brother literally stumble and bumble like an idiot in front of a tired twink.

Edit: I actually wrote something about it!

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[fangbanger3000]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

[snakesafraidtodie]

Danny stops mid rant once he realizes that Bruce Wayne is looking at him like he's crazy. "Ehh... never mind. It's just been a rough week. Ignore everything that I said. Obviously I'm alive. I'm just... uh, saying what my parents expect I'd say. Because they think I'm dead."

"You're used to indulging their delusions." Bruce stated, more than asked.

Danny sighed. "Look. I'm really sorry about them. But did you have to publish the name of the dead boy you thought was your son? Even if it's not me, that's gotta be some sort of privacy violation. Did you get permission from the family of the dead Danny?"

"...I'm sorry, I don't know how the body's identity got released to the press." Bruce had a genuine look of guilt on his face. "But you're right. That information should never have hit the news."

"Well, I guess it's not your fault then." Danny shrugged. "Um. This is a long shot, but do you know how to get in contact with Batman?"

"..."

"It's just, now that they're convinced you have my body- my parents... are kinda single-minded? And I wouldn't put B&E to steal what they think is the remains of their son past them. So. I wanna talk to Batman. To discuss how best to handle their brand of... them-ness. They're a lot, but they're good people! And they're grieving me, as misplaced as it is."

--------

The Fentons want a dead body that doesn't exist.

The Waynes want to keep their cover and not blow their identities. (No, Tim. You are not allowed to clone Daniel to make a fake corpse for his parents.)

Danny wants his parents to accept that he's both dead and alive and stop harassing a rich fruitloop for the corpse of a rando kid he mistook for his son. And he'd like to get that without having to out his identity to more people, but at this point it seems unlikely.

So.

When Bruce Wayne agreed to set up a meeting for him with Batman, Danny decided to tell the truth. Because who could he trust with it if not a fellow hero?

------

Ok. Batman was way more intimidating in person. The mass of shadows stared him down. Danny didn't know how to break the silence.

Luckily the Dark Knight took mercy. "Wayne told me you wanted to discuss your parents' potential future actions."

"R-right. Um. Yeah. Ok." Danny took a deep breath to quit his rambling and get to the point. "So. Some background info. Mom and Dad are ecto-biologists and ghost hunters. They spent their career inventing tech that runs on ectoplasm and publishing papers on the evils of post-human-consciousness. Their magnum opus was a portal to a theoretical dimension of ecto and ghosts. They built it in our basement. And."

Danny let the rings of transformation form. He began to float and at Batman's tensing, crossed his arms and legs to appear smaller. He looked away. "It killed me. Kinda. I am dead, but not. I'm a ghost, but I'm alive. I didn't tell them when it happened. They're ghost hunters, y'know? I grew up hearing the evils of my kind. But then the other Danny Fenton was announced dead, and they figured I was a ghost anyway."

Danny set his feet on the ground and turned human. "So I told them the truth, that I'm both, that I've been protecting Amity from the ghosts coming through the portal as the hero Phantom. But. Well, I don't know how much Mr. Wayne told you, but they're convinced I'm fully dead. They want me to move on. That's why they want the body."

Danny clutched at his hair in frustration. "And. I can't convince them otherwise! I don't- this reveal is already going so much better than I could've hoped. They're already rethinking their 'all ghosts are evil' stance. But. I can't keep living with them. They think I'm DEAD, Batman! That I'm haunting them or something. I can't do that to them! I can't make them believe me-!"

Large hands wrapped around Danny's own to gently uncurl the fingers fisted in his hair. "What do you need, Danny?"

Danny sniffed. His hands still held in Batman's own, Danny ducked his head, turning to self consciously wipe his face on his sleeve. "I don't know." He said in a tiny voice. "I want them to get better."

"..."

"Everyone always said they were mad scientists, growing up. I- I don't want them to- to end up at Arkham. But I can't convince them anymore. They need, like, a professional. But it will only work if the professional knows what's actually going on, and that means revealing my secret identity to more people, end even if there is someone trustworthy, I'll still need someplace to stay while we're doing this fucked up supernatural family therapy. So maybe I just gotta... fake my death. Let them move on. Wayne can tell them the other Danny got cremated already or something. And I'll... go... somewhere."

Danny pulled his hands out of Batman's grasp and stood up straight. "Yeah. Ok. Batman, will you help put Danny Fenton to rest once and for all?"

It's a Terrible Cover Story, Really :/

DP x DC AU where, when trying to make a cover story for why Jason is suddenly legally alive again, Bruce (and the rest of the fam) come up with a story that they had found the body of a child that looked just like 15 year old Jason after he had gone missing and went straight into greif stricken panic and assumed to worst! Jason had come back to them later (let's say he's 22/23 here) after recovering from amnesia, and DNA tests confirmed it's him. They claim they exhumed the body and had the DNA tested and it came back (and they make this name up, completely believing that, since enough people have similar names, this won't come back to bite them) as Danny Fenton.

It's plastered all over the news and it makes it's way back to Jack and Maddie fast: who are now completely convinced their son died on a breif trip they took to Gotham 7 years ago and came back as a ghost who just didn't know he was dead. When they try to bring up the topic with Danny, as gently as they could, they wind up learning that he's Phantom and start to think it's a split personality type deal. One is their son trying to greave his own death and failing because he thinks he's still alive, and the other is their son trying to live up to them as ghost hunters and trying to be the hero his kid self must have thought they were. They're torn up and grief stricken and try contacting Bruce about retrieving their sons body.

Bruce is freaking out because he thinks he just convinced people who may have been looking for their son for years that their kid is dead (and maybe he is! Oh god!) And Amity Park nonsense is keeping him from finding anything about the (half) living Danny, now attending community college.

Jack and Maddie are freaking out because they don't want to let go of their son, but also this can't be healthy for any of them or for Danny's soul, he needs to move on and they need time to rethink everything they've ever thought about ghosts to grieve.

And Danny's freaking out because he thinks Brucie Wayne, ditz extraordinaire (unless his kids are involved), clueless to a fault, Brucie, somehow figured out he was a ghost and outed him to his parents???? Not cool man!

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[ihrthoney]

for us

pairings: namgyu x preg!reader

warnings: angst & fluff :p

an: i started my first big girl job but im motivated so ill try to post more :)! i haven’t posted in a minute and i hate pregnancy tropes but i make the exception for squid games lol. i will make a part two!

nam-gyu was many things, an addict, a partier, an idiot and a sweetheart. the sweetest ever, actually.

unfortunately for you you worked at club pentagon, which is how you met the physical embodiment of an acid trip.

who he was when he was sober was something you cherished and kept close to your heart. it wasn’t hard to weave your way into his rotten lungs, but soon enough you became his air, his new high.

after learning you never did substances, he switched positions at the club and asked you to get a safer job, not wanting you to inevitably cave to the horrible things that he tries.

you scold him of course, reprimand him and argue about hating how he acted when under the influence. for a while he managed to stop, wanting something serious and stable.

but then he met thanos, he came home obnoxiously intoxicated. nam-gyu was so star struck that he saw a famous rapper that he didn’t understand why you locked him out of the room, until he woke up the next morning with a headache he only got when he was on drugs.

apologies spewed out of his mouth, wishing for a second chance. his wish was granted, he found another outlet for “extra money” and promised you both a fresh start.

until the extra money vanished off the face of the earth and now he was in incredible debt.

the few months of bliss now gone, thoughts of continuing such an unstable relationship this far into life didn’t seem like a good idea. the arguments were bad, mostly on your end as you couldn’t get him to stop begging and spilling empty promises,

“i’ll make the money back and i’ll work harder to make more for you, please baby i’m so sorry.” the sight of him on his knees and holding your legs would’ve been kind of sweet if this wasn’t the millionth time he’s promised to be better.

to his disappointment, you walked out of his life that night, asking him to only find you when he grew up.

he was determined to make the money back, nam-gyu had no hesitation when calling the number on the card.

-

seeing thanos’ face on the big screen in the unfamiliar room brought a bitter taste in your mouth. you felt bad, seeing as he had the talent but like your ex he succumbed to the high instead.

your ex. that fucking moron. that piece of shit doesn’t even know you’re carrying his damn kid.

a week after you walked out of his life, you guys met up one time to exchange clothes and what not but one thing lead to another and here you were in hospital debt. finding a stable job was hard, especially when you worked as a bartender most of your adult life.

the stress was eating you alive, renting the nice place you had was not cheap and the nice landlord could only be nice for so long because you had to start paying more.

the past few months have been rough and you really wish you had the support of your ex even if he wasn’t the greatest, he was yours and that’s all that really mattered.

standing in line to sign the consent forms made you nauseous, afraid of what’s to come. as you’re walking back to your bed, you get stopped by a hand on your shoulder,

“yn?”

you feel your heartbeat quicken as you turn around and look at your ex boyfriend.

“why are you here?” his hand is still on your shoulder, slightly moving up and down your arm.

he always had a thing for keeping a hand on you, he said it grounded him.

“the same reason everyone is, debt.”

the expression on his face makes your chest ache, he looks so concerned that it makes you a wee bit mad, “what debt are you in? you’ve always been financially responsible!”

he was right, out of you two you made the smarter choices. it dawned on you that you had yet to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid.

“yn? what happened? did someone scam you? i know some people that could find them.” his tone deepening as he becomes more serious, “no! it’s not like that. it’s complicated..”

the worry in your voice makes his eyes fill with worry, “baby, you can tell me.” the name makes you push away from him but the distance is immediately gone as he closes it, pulling your hands into his own. you can’t look him in the eye, scared he’s going to be mad at you.

you’re going to keep it no matter what but the thought of him hating you and your kid makes your heart crack.

the swirled hormones make everything seem so much more intense, tears start to fill your eyes which makes his widen. his hands, ever so warm, hold your face and tilt it so you’re looking at him.

“what’s wrong, i’m here ba-“

“i’m pregnant, nam-gyu.” he pulls his hands off of your face like he was burned, an expression of hurt and anger swirls in his eyes,

“who’s the father?” you look at him like he’s stupid, which only makes him more upset. “why are you looking at me like that?”

does he seriously think i got with someone else?

nam-gyu is distraught, the thought of you no longer being in love with him makes him sick. the fact that you’re carrying someone else’s child makes any will to live disappear. suddenly he doesn’t care that he owes money to anyone, there’s no chance to get you back. “does he treat you well? are you happier?”

“i’m not seeing anyone new, nam-gyu.”

“you shouldn’t be playing games if you’re pregnant. you could hurt yourself or the baby.”

despite his own lack of rationality when making choices, he was always so careful with you.

you threw any rationality you had and spit out the truth,

“it’s yours.”

now he was looking at you like you were stupid, “what?”

“the baby. it’s yours. you’re the father. i’m carrying your child.” he blinks at you slowly, taking in the information you just dropped on him,

“it’s.. you’re carrying.. our baby?” nodding your head, you step forward and take his hand and guide it to your stomach.

“after we broke up, i started to feel sick so i took a test. i didn’t know what to do, i couldn’t find a good job near my place, moving is too expensive, i was afraid to reach out to you. i owe the hospital so much because i’m paying by month but i ran out of savings and then this guy came up to me and gave me a card to make money.”

by the end of your ramble, nam-gyu pulled you in for a tight hug, smoothing your back with his hand. softly, he coos into your hair, “i would’ve never denied you. had you called, we could’ve figured this shit out together.”

you argued back, “how was i supposed to know that? you promised me over and over again but nothing changed!”

despite missing the warmth, you again create a distance by pushing him away from you, although it’s no use given how he holds your arms but he still keeps the distance out of respect for you.

“i have changed! i’m here, i’m going to win that money and i’ll take care of you.” his eyes plead, the hands that hold you start to shake.

“you’ll win it? alone?” the logic hits him and he laughs at his own idiocy, “we’ll win, i’ll make sure we both get out of here. we can put the money together. it’ll be more than enough for us to start over!”

you’re skeptical, sure the chance of winning is there but.. is your trust in him still there?

“if we win-“

his hands move from your arms to your stomach, “when baby, when we win-“

your eyes roll at his optimism, “if and when we win, you need to quit drugs. cold turkey. no excuses, no more second chances. if you so much as look at a drug, i will kill you and raise this kid alone, do you understand me?”

he mocks a soldier, hand to his head and stance straight, “yes ma’am!” the pose barely lasts as he starts to giggle, following you to your bed while holding onto your hand.

there was more to come, you had a feeling that much money wouldn’t come so easy, but things felt just a tad easier with him.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[absurdthirst]

The Photo Booth {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.9k

Warnings: Hook ups, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), public sex, explicit photos, chauvinism, cheating, derogatory language, slight emotional manipulation and abuse?, domestic violence, bodily threats

Comments: A trip to Colombia, a fling that changes your life. Javier Peña returns to the DEA after retiring only to find that the one woman he couldn't get off his mind is now dating a co-worker.

**Based off this NSFW Post

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Sitting in a dive bar in Cali, Colombia, you didn’t know what to expect in the smoky haze of the bar. The cold beer sitting in front of you is sweating and you look around, the interior of the bar making it seem like it was midnight rather than the evening. The only time natural light snuck in was when the doors swung open or closed to admit a new patron. You’ve been here for a week, learning the area and this little bar has become a favorite spot. It’s not touristy and you like that, able to sit and enjoy a beer or shot without judgment. The curse from the man next to you catches your attention, turning to again think that he’s handsome as he searches his pockets quickly, a cigarette dangling from his lips, obviously looking for a lighter. You reach into your pocket and pull out your zippo, flicking it opened and firing it up to hold in front of his smoke. “Here.”  

“Thanks.” He murmurs, leaning in to light his smoke and he inhales as the end of his smoke lights up orange. He exhales the smoke and removes it from his mouth, positioning it between his fingers over the ashtray on the bar. You’re pretty and American from the sounds of it. “Thanks.” He says again and gestures for the bartender to come over and refill his whiskey. “And whatever the lady is drinking.” He tells the bartender in Spanish.

You order another beer in Spanish and turn back to him as he takes another long drag off his cigarette like it needs it more than air. “Rough morning?” You ask playfully, picking up your beer and taking a long swing to finish it so you can start drinking the fresh one. He’s handsome and also American if his accent is anything to go by. His clean jawline is marred by one little patch that he missed shaving this morning and his mustache is in need of a slight trim, along with his gorgeous dark hair. It compliments the sharp nose and dark eyes. 

Javier snorts, “rough day.” He admits, tapping his smoke on the side of the ashtray and he nods at the bartender in thanks, picking up his glass to take a sip. “So what are you doing here in Colombia?” He asks, curious about why a beautiful woman is alone in Cali. It’s safer than when Pablo was around but it’s still dangerous. 

“Vacation. I’m here to visit my friend from college. She’s out with her new boyfriend tonight so I offered to entertain myself and here I am…looking for entertainment.” You smirk slightly and take a sip of your fresh beer. 

“Is that so?” Javier chuckles softly, “and what kind of entertainment are you looking for?” He asks and you hum, “l don’t know yet. Waiting to see what finds me.” You look at him and then back down the bar to an old man who is sipping his drink.

You watch as his brow lifts and there’s a moment where you think that he’s going to ask you another question and then he doesn’t. It’s as if he remembers something that causes him to straighten up slightly and he picks up his whiskey and tosses it back. You bite your lip, wondering if the spark of interest you had seen in his eyes was just a fluke. You lean back and sigh softly. 

Javier smirks after a moment, “so you’re looking for entertainment. You know, it’s been a while since I entertained.” Javi confesses. Apart from that first night back in Colombia, he hasn’t had sex and that’s not the norm for a man who processes everything in a woman’s body. He sighs and takes another drag of his smoke, his dark eyes dipping down to your lips before he lifts them back to your gaze.

“You?” Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief as you wonder if all the women in Colombia were crazy or if there was something wrong with him. You’re a pretty good judge of a good time and he looks like he’s damn fun. Reaching out, you pluck the cigarette out from between his fingers and take a drag from it. “Why?” You ask, blowing out the smoke and smirking at him, leaning forward to give him a glimpse of your tits in your low cut shirt.

Javier shrugs, his eyes dipping down to your cleavage before you exhale a cloud of smoke and his eyes flick up to your mouth. “Been busy working. Late nights in the office and tonight is one of the few nights I’m in a bar and not drinking at home while looking over paperwork. Plus no one has really caught my attention…until now.” He admits, his eyes dipping back down to your cleavage to make his intentions known.

You hum in approval and hand the cigarette back to him to pick up your beer to take a large swallow. “Good to know.” You tell him after you set it back down. “I was thinking that maybe you weren’t interested. Which is a damn shame, because I just know that you have a fantastic cock.” You can tell from the nonchalant self confidence he possesses, this man can fuck. 

If Javier wasn’t as experienced as he was, he’d be spitting out his whiskey, but that isn’t him. He smirks and leans a little closer after he snubs his cigarette out in the ashtray. “You just know?” He asks, tilting his head, “and if I just know you have a fantastic pussy?” He counters, his leg pressing against yours as he turns his body towards you.

“Then I think we need to find someplace to let you get a taste of it.” You tease, winking playfully. “You might get addicted to it.” Leaning forward, you lay your hand on his knee and slide it up his thigh. “Bet I could change that rough day into a better one. My fantastic pussy squeezing your fantastic cock? Sounds like a good time to me.” You’ve always been bold when you wanted someone and this is no exception. His suit shirt and tie are decent and fit him well, but you can tell the man prefers a pair of jeans over the trapping of a suit.

Javier has always loved a woman who knows what she wants. It saves on the “will they? Won’t they?” nonsense and he isn’t one to fuck around. Once he’s in, he’s in. His smirk turns into a devilish grin and his hand covers yours, dragging it higher until your palm is on his crotch, “my place or yours?” He suggests, tilting his head and his eyes flick down to your lips, “and I can discover just how fucking fantastic that pussy is and make my rough day into a good night.”

“My place is a hotel about four blocks from here.” You admit breathlessly, pressing your palm against the thick hardness that is growing under his slacks. “How far away do you live?”

“My apartment is about twenty minutes away so your place wins.” He groans softly when you rub his cock a little harder. He gestures for the bartender to come over and he shifts to pull his wallet out of his pants. He tosses some bills down to cover your drinks and he downs the rest of his whiskey. “You ready to go, hermosa, or you wanna finish your beer?”

You stand up and pluck the glass off the bar. “I’ll take it with me.” You tell him, sauntering towards the door, making sure that your ass sways invitingly with every step you take. Looking over your shoulder, you grin at the handsome man. “Hey, before we leave, what’s your name?” 

Javier grabs his jacket from the back of the bar stool and waves to the bartender before he follows you out the door, his hand pushing into the back pocket of your jeans to squeeze your ass. “You’re gonna be fun. I can already tell.” He smirks and he pulls his hand out to smack your ass. “Lead the way, hermosa.” He demands, cock pressing against the zipper of his slacks.

You smirk when he murmurs his name and you introduce yourself. You take another drink of the beer as you amble down the street to your hotel. “Want a sip?” You offer, holding it out to him and you like the way he still is touching your ass.

Javier takes the beer and tilts his head back to have a gulp, handing it back to you as his hand slides up to your waist. “You are fucking gorgeous.” Javier declares, “you don’t have a fella waiting for you back home?” He asks, wanting to make sure he’s not stepping on some poor guy’s toes when his beautiful girlfriend is on vacation.

“No.” You scoff and shake your head. “My ex told me that I was the type someone had fun with but didn’t marry.” It had hurt at the time, but fuck him. You didn’t want to marry into his prissy family anyway. “So I dumped him and said fuck it, I’ll just do what I want.”

He can’t help but snort, “I left my fiancé at the altar the day before I left to come to Colombia. Was about 8 years ago now but yeah, she’s still pretty pissed.” He confesses, “even though she’s married with kids. Fuck that guy, good for you for not giving in to his bullshit.”

“People want to change you.” You shake your head and shrug. “If you want to change for someone, you do. But it’s not actually love if someone wants you to change everything about yourself.” You tell him. “At least that’s my opinion. I mean, you don’t cheat, but if you love someone you don’t want to fuck someone else.”

"Exactly. I don't cheat. My pa would fucking kill me if he found out I cheated but having fun? That's something that's on the table. Tonight, I want you." He smirks, spinning you around to press you against the wall of a shop that's shut up. His hand caresses your waist and he leans in to press his lips to yours under the streetlight.

The first kiss is perfect. The taste of whiskey, beer and cigarettes makes a unique flavor that isn’t unpleasant on his tongue. Your arms wind around his neck, still holding your beer and you waste no time sliding your tongue into his mouth. Moaning slightly when he immediately responds and presses you harder into the wall, his cock already hard and digging into your hip.

He groans, pushing you up against the wall and his cock presses against your hip, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits. He's hungry for you and after all the bullshit he's been handling with work, he wants to lose his mind in your body.

The fire between you ignites and you can tell that this man is going to leave you a sweaty, exhausted mess when he’s done with you. The hand not holding your beer slides down his side and pushes between your bodies to squeeze his cock as you pull your lips away from his. “Next block is my hotel.” You gasp breathlessly.

He pulls back reluctantly, knowing nothing more can happen in the street. A cat knocks over a beer bottle on the wall and he flinches, knowing it's not safe to hang around so he takes your hand from his crotch and guides you back onto the sidewalk to continue walking to your hotel.

You quickly enter the hotel and guide him towards your door. Pulling out your key from your pocket, the door swings open and you shrug. “It’s small, but the hotel is pretty safe so that is why I chose it.” You explain, aware that it might be smaller than some hotels in the city.

"Smart girl." He hums, following you through the door into your room. It's a little messy but he doesn't give a fuck. You set the beer bottle down and he kicks off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket. "How long are you in Colombia for?" He asks as he sits down on the foot of your bed.

“Month or so.” You shrug slightly. “I hadn’t really decided when I was going back.” You smirk. “Might stick around if the sex is good.” You tease, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head to reveal your lacy bra.

He watches you strip off with lust in his eyes and he groans when you push your jeans down to expose your panties. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, his dark gaze trailing along your body. “I’ll make sure you stick around.” He promises, reaching for you to pull you between his spread legs. His hands sliding along the back of your thighs until he’s squeezing your ass clad in lace.

He looks good, sitting on the edge of your bed and you quickly pull his loose tie out from its knot and slip it out from around his neck. “You need a condom, handsome?” You’re on the pill, but while you know your own STD test, you won’t just assume he’s clean.

"I have one in my wallet." He assures you, loving the way you toss his tie to the floor before you start working on the buttons of his shirt. His hands slide under your panties, wanting them off, so he pushes them down when you are working on the last buttons of his shirt. You push it off his shoulders and step out of your panties, making him moan at the sight of the curls at the apex of your thighs. His hands slide up your thighs again and he spreads your ass so he can slide his fingers through your folds, groaning at how wet you are.

“I’m sure plenty of women tell you that you’re sexy, but I’ll just tell you I wasn’t wet before you sat down next to me.” You pant, head rolling back and you reach for his broad shoulders to keep you anchored. His fingers are quick and skilled as he finds your clit and starts to stroke it. “Fuck- Javi…” you pant, walls clenching around nothing as he touches you.

Javier loves the way you lean into him, your hands on his shoulders, and he slides his fingers back to push two inside of you. His foot nudges your ankle to spread you a little wider and you whimper when he curls his fingers inside of you. His other hand sliding up to work on the clasp of your bra.

“Shit.” You moan, your eyes fluttering closed while he manages to unhook your bra with one hand. He’s obviously good at that, practicing a few times. He grunts in pleasure when he gets it on the first try and you have to pull your arms away to let the straps slide down your limbs and you toss it away without even looking. You are naked in front of him and he’s still wearing his pants, the contrast between you exciting.

His eyes dart up to find yours and he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. Your hand tangles in his hair and he groans at the slight tug. His fingers push deeper, pressing against the spongy wall to find that spot that makes your knees buckle while he bites down on the bud of your breast.

You whimper quietly, walls fluttering around his fingers and you want to touch him. “Javi- fuck baby.” You moan, rocking your hips towards him. “More.” You beg, cupping his head to your breast and loving his tongue laps at the aching nipple.

His fingers continue to pump into you, groaning your name against your breast, his tongue lathing your nipple until he kisses across to your other breast. Your hands caress his head and he wants you to cum on his fingers.

“Fuck.” It’s been a long time since someone has paid attention to you like this. Most of your previous lovers would rather get right to the sex and enjoy your uninhibited nature. Preferring getting a blow job over making sure you cum. “Javi.” You bite your lip and then let out another moan, telling yourself you have no reason to hold back.

Javier loves hearing you moan his name. He pushes his fingers a little faster, wanting to feel you clamp down on his digits, and he groans when you give him what he wants. His lips press against your sternum as you tug on his hair and you soak his fingers. “That’s it, baby. Fuck. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He murmurs against your chest as he works you through it.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, slowly withdrawing his wet digits from your pussy and his wet fingers squeeze your breast before he grabs your waist to pull you into his lap and his cock is aching for you. His tongue slides against yours and his hands squeeze your ass as you grind down onto him.

You roll your hips and your fingers reach for his belt buckle. You want to see his cock, to touch him. Moaning into his mouth as you flick it open as you kiss him. You’re eager for him, wanting to see what he can do when he has more than his fingers inside you.

He loves how eager you are, fumbling to open his pants, and he groans when you finally manage to take his cock out, squeezing him in your hand. "Fuck, hermosa." He hisses, his fingers digging into your ass.

You look between you and groan in appreciation of the thick, uncut cock in your hand. Twisting your wrist so you can pump him lightly as you slide off his lap and drop to your knees between his thighs. You are salivating at how gorgeous he is and your already wet cunt is dripping as you roll the foreskin back to take the head between your lips as you dip your head down. 

His dark eyes drink in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips wrapped around his cock. He can’t help but reach down to caress your cheek, “you’re fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, watching you with hungry eyes and he twitches when you take him deeper into your mouth.

You moan in approval at his praises, always loving when someone heaps compliments on you. It makes you eager for more and willing to do almost anything. Sure that someone would say it has to do with your daddy issues, all you care about is this man right now and making sure that he wants more of you. Bobbing your head on his cock as you try to take as much of him as you can before you are choking and sputtering around him. 

“Cuidado.” He murmurs, not wanting you to hurt yourself. He strokes your cheek, feeling his cock bulge under your skin. “Fuck, you’re so good. I don’t - I don’t want to cum down your throat.” He warns you, enjoying your mouth but he wants your pussy.

You suck on the length, your tongue running up the side before you pull off his cock one last time. “Do you want my pussy or ass?” You ask, smirking slightly and lifting a brow in question as he twitches at the thought. 

He knows you’d need a lot of prep to take him in your ass. “Pussy.” He declares, “you would need more prep to open your ass for me and we just met. I want to feel that tight little cunt squeeze my cock.” He reaches for you and pulls you into his lap once more, pressing his lips to yours.

You whimper as his hands slide down your back and over your ass as he rocks you against his cock. The fabric of his pants is probably soaked with your juices but you don’t care and he doesn’t seem to mind. Breaking away from his lips, you start to kiss along his jaw. “Fuck me, Javier.” You beg. “I want you to wreck me and make me scream.” 

He nods, shifting to lay you down on the bed and he pushes his pants down, bending down to take his wallet out so he can get the condom from inside and he tosses his wallet down. “Spread your legs, baby. Show me that wet pussy.” He demands as he ríos the packet open and he rolls the latex down his length, standing before you fully nude as he admires your cunt.

You squirm and spread your legs wider, inviting him to come fuck you as he watches you with dark eyes. There’s something simmering beneath the surface of this calm man, a volatile nature that could be unleashed and it excites you. Reaching up, you cup your tits and pinch your nipples. “Fuck Javi.” You whine when he doesn’t pounce on you right away. “You gonna leave me hanging?”   

He chuckles, caressing your ankle up to your thigh and he shuffles closer, squeezing his covered cock. He notches himself at your entrance and pushes into you steadily but not quickly. “You are so goddamn tight. Mierda.” He hisses as he pushes deeper and keeps himself up on his forearms to hover over you.

Your mouth opens in a silent moan as he stretches you out, even his fingers were not enough to escape the slight pinch of his cock splitting you open. It’s incredible. You want to say something witty but you just pull your legs back to let him sink in deeper, loving how he feels. Sliding your hands up his arms and caressing the straining muscles as you admire how handsome he is over you.

Javier clenches his jaw as you squeeze him inside of you. The walls are gripping him like a vice and it’s been too long since he had sex. He hisses and leans down to press his lips to yours, giving both of you a moment when he’s fully seated inside of you.

You kiss him eagerly, your tongues sliding against one another and groaning into the other’s mouth. You love how physical he is, most men would just be hammering into you by now, but he is kissing you like there is nothing that exists but right now.

He starts to rock into you, slow and steady, while his tongue caresses yours until he pulls away so he can kiss along your jaw. "Hermosa." He murmurs, sliding his hand along your thigh as you moan when he pushes deep inside of you again.

The pace starts off slow, building up a rhythm that takes your breath away and makes you gasp out his name every time he plunges deep into your cunt. Your hands sliding along his back and feeling the muscles move as he fucks you. It’s intimate, even for a one night stand and you love it.

Javier has never been the rut and nut kind of guy. He loves women. Loves making them moan and writhe beneath him and you are not an exception. He wants to feel you cum around him before he spills into the condom. He kisses down your neck, hunched over you as he rocks into you a little faster.

“Fuck, fuck.” You pant, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist and you love how he is cradled between your thighs so perfectly. “Javi- more, fuck, it’s soooo goood.” You whine, your teeth nipping his shoulder and you lunge up to bite his cute little earlobe.

He groans when you bite his ear, “fuckkk.” He pants into your neck, his cock twitching violently inside of you. He loves that. He keeps his pace, adjusting his hips to find that spot that makes you cry out his name.

It’s distracting, the way he’s shredding up into you, making your whole body respond to the drive of your hips. “Fuck!” You squeal when he hits that perfect spot, making him chuckle. “There, hermosa?” He growls, making you whimper again when he hits that spot again. “There! Right fucking there. Oooooh, you’re gonna make me cum, Javi!” You cry when he seemingly targets your sweet spot and hammers against it again and again.

Javier loves the way you cry out and he focuses on that spot, pushing into you over and over again. He wants you to fall apart for him and it doesn’t take long for you to clamp down on his cock. His name is a cry for the hotel residents to hear as you shake beneath him.

Your entire body is blissed out, flooded with pleasure as your walls flutter around him. Making you encourage him to cum. “Cum for me baby, want you to feel so good.” You moan in his ear. “Let me see you cum.”

Javier grunts, wanting to last longer than one orgasm so he pulls out of you, shifting down your body so he can bury his face in your cunt. You taste like latex but he doesn’t care as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

You gasp in surprise, not expecting him to shift tracks like that and you are completely obsessed by this man that you picked up in a bar. More willing to focus on your pleasure than some of your exes. “Oh my fucking God.” You pant, looking up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily and counting your lucky stars. “How- how are you not married?” You huff. “Your ex was an idiot to not do whatever it took to keep you in her bed.”

Javier chuckles against your folds and he slides his hands up to squeeze your tits, pinching your nipples. “Not marriage material.” He admits as he pulls back for a second and he spits on your folds, wanting to watch it slide down to your ass and he groans, surging forward to lap your clit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, loving how filthy he is. You grind your hips down, demanding more as you moan and whimper in pleasure. “Fuck - tell me you’re clean.” You demand. “Tell me you can fuck me raw and fill me up. Fuck, I’m on that birth control shot.”

His cock twitches against the mattress and he lifts his head. His hand sliding down to rub your clit. “I’m clean. Got tested a few weeks ago and I always use a condom. You really want me to cum inside of you?” He asks, eyebrows raised. Unsure if this is a heat of the moment and he doesn’t want to take advantage. The women he’s fucked…he’s always had a condom on because they are prostitutes and it was required.

“Fuck yesssss.” You moan, clenching around nothing at the thought. “I’m clean, I’ve got my papers on the table over there, along with my shot record.” You pant, squirming as you imagine dripping his cum. “I want- I’ve never done that before, unless it was anal.”

Javier won’t dent you when you’re begging. He groans your name and sucks your clit into his mouth, wanting you to fall over the edge again before he fucks you raw. “I’ll fuck your ass another time.” He promises and sucks on your clit harder than before.

You whine, stomach clenching as your fingers twist in his hair. Tugging on it while he devours your cunt. “Fuck, Javi!” You feel yourself stiffen, crying out again for the entire hotel to hear when your cunt clenches down around nothing and you soak his chin.

He hisses when you tug on his hair and he groans into your flesh before he abruptly pulls back, shifting back onto his knees. He pulls the condom off and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he pushes into you while your walls are still fluttering from your orgasm.

All you can do is moan, rolling your hips down and wrapping your arms around him. Dragging him down onto you to feel his weight pressing you into the bed. “Fuck- you feel….amazing.”

You feel incredible around his cock, so wet and hot, and he starts to rock into you, harder than before. “Fuck baby. You’re beautiful. Fucking gorgeous.” He hisses, his hands sliding under your body.

“You’re gorgeous.” You groan, kissing up his jaw to his lips. Not caring that your juices are still on his tongue. You just want to kiss him. “So goddamn good to me. Fucking me right. Now I want you to wear yourself out.”

Javier grunts, shifting onto his calves and he grabs your waist, dragging you up and he shifts to hold your thighs. The new angle has his eyes rolling into the back of his head and he hisses your name when you brace your feet and rock down onto him.

“Fuck, you want me on top?” You pant, starting to roll your hips and bounce on his cock. “I can do that.” You hang onto him and still want more as he leans in and takes your nipple in his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

“Take what you need, hermosa.” He demands, squeezing your ass, and he loves the way you take him inside of you with every rock of your hips. “That’s it, baby. Shit.” He hisses and bites down on your breast.

Your fingers run through his hair and you moan his name again. Wondering how the hell you got so lucky to be able to take this man to bed. “Oh fuck, that’s so good. You’re so good.”

Javier loves how much you are enjoying this. Genuinely loving every second and he hasn’t had a lover like that in so long. “Fuck hermosa. Tu coño es mi cielo.” He murmurs against your skin.

Your pussy is my heaven. You moan, clenching down around him tight as his words throw you over the edge again. You’ve never cum as much as you have tonight and it’s amazing that you found the perfect lover in a little bar in Colombia. “Javi!” Your voice breaks and you choke out a sob as you come apart again.

When you cum again, he doesn’t hold back. He groans and rocks up into you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you upright as he works himself towards his orgasm. “Mierda.” He hisses and he’s falling over the edge within a half dozen thrusts. Your name on his lips as his cock twitches while filling you with his hot cum.

You close your eyes, forehead resting against his shoulder and you pant softly. “Fuck.” You whimper, feeling him rock through his orgasm until he finally stops moving underneath you.

He bites down on your shoulder and kisses along your neck, loving the way you relax against him. He murmurs your name against your skin and sighs, feeling so good after you let him fuck you and he’s so happy he met you in that bar. He pulls out a few moments later, shifting to lay down on the bed.

You roll over to your back and give a tired giggle. “You want a cigarette?” You ask, knowing you have a pack in the drawer next to him. “I think after that performance, you deserve one.”

“Fuck yes.” Javier nods, his fingers twitching for a smoke and when you hand it to him, he keeps his lips pursed so you can light it before he inhales and opens his other arm for you to curl into him. “How long are you here for again?” He asks, having forgotten in the haze of sex.

You bite your lip, smiling lazily as you steal the cigarette and take a puff. “As long as I want to stick around.” You laugh, handing the smoke back to him and caressing his chest. “Might be at least an another month or so if you want to fuck me like that again.” You tease playfully.

He chuckles, “sounds like a good deal to me, baby.” He kisses your hair and takes another drag of the cigarette while you curl around him.

****

“Fuck. Jesus Christ.” Javier hisses as you take his cock into your mouth in the front seat of his Jeep. Your ass in the air clad in daisy dukes and his aviators on his eyes as he watches you take his cock into your mouth. You’ve been having sex for the past two weeks every night Javier can get away from the Embassy and tonight, he told you he’d take you to his favorite lookout in the mountains but you decided the better view was in his lap.

You moan around him. Eager as you bob up and down on his cock. You know that he’s DEA, you have learned a little about his job and how much stress he is under on the day to day and you want to make him forget about everything but the way your mouth feels around his cock. Your fingers wrap about the base and you pump it and then roll his balls around gently in your hand.

Javier caresses your head as you suck his cock and he hisses when you gently squeeze his balls. The moon is shining above and there’s no one else around, his headlights turned off so you can see the stars but he doesn’t give a shit about the sky when you’re causing stars behind his eyelids with the way you’re sucking his cock. “Fuckkk hermosa.” He groans, tilting his head back against the headrest, “gonna make me cum.” He warns, not wanting you to have him cum if you want to fuck him.

You hum, knowing how much he love that and while you would love for him to fuck you, you want him to cum down your throat. Knowing how stressed he is, you want to make him relax and thank him for being so sweet to plan a romantic drive up here. It’s thoughtful and when he’s ready to go again, you’ll bounce on his cock. Instead of pulling off, you press deeper, letting go of the base and taking him all the way until your nose is pressed against his groin, swallowing around him.

He chokes when you take him deeper, your nose pressed against the coarse but trimmed hair at the base of his cock. “Holy fucking shit.” He growls, unable to hold back and his cock twitches as he starts to cum. His balls pull tight in your hand and you moan around him as you start to swallow every drop of hot cum down your throat. “Mierda, hermosa. Fuck.” He pants, his hand slamming on the steering wheel and he honks the horn by accident.

You jump in surprise, gasping slightly and it makes you dribble out some of the cum you are trying to swallow. Making you giggle as you swallow harder and cup your hand over his pants so none of the cum spills on to the fabric and stains them. Still, you keep sucking, waiting until his cock stops pulsing before you pull off and make sure you get every drop. Your grin is self satisfied when you sit up. “Enjoy that?”

Javier doesn’t answer. He reaches down to cup your cheek and you let him drag you up from his lap. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He groans and presses his lips to yours, uncaring about the saltiness on your tongue from his cum. His hand cups the back of your neck, needing you closer.

You love that he doesn’t care about his cum, or yours. You kiss him back eagerly and you sigh into his mouth softly. Everyday you spend with Javi is special and it’s almost a damn shame that neither one of you are in a position to have a relationship. It would be amazing. One last peck and you shift to his side and look up at the stars. “It is pretty up here.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders after he tucks his cock away but doesn’t bother buttoning his pants. He nods, “it is. I like to come up here when I’m having a hard time at work. Had some fucking revelations up here. I- I don’t really bring anyone here. It’s always been my place but I wanted to bring you somewhere special since I haven’t exactly taken you on a date.”

Your heart melts at his revelation, honored that he would share someplace meaningful to him. Turning your face up, you place a kiss on his jaw, loving the little bare patch where his five o’clock shadow refuses to grow in. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “This is wonderful, but don’t feel guilty. I love our nights in my hotel room.” Javi had told you that it was too dangerous to bring you back to his apartment, and while that could be a lie, you feel like he’s telling the truth.

Javier knows that this is veering too close to a relationship but he can’t stop it. With the knowledge that you’ll be leaving soon, he feels greedy to get every second he can with you. The whorehouses have definitely missed his presence during this stint in Colombia but he was determined to change his reputation. He has to redeem himself after what happened with Los Pepes. He has to make it right.  “I know, I just - I want to keep you safe. You have to return home to the States.” He insists, knowing that every day you spend here puts your life in danger, multiplied tenfold by being with him.

“I know.” You caress his chest over his shirt gently, trying to soothe him. He doesn’t talk about the things that he’s seen, but you sometimes catch a haunted look on his face. Or the nights when he stays over, he will abandon the pillow he hugs while he sleeps to cling to you as if he’s afraid of you slipping away at night. It makes your heart ache. “You will see me off at the airport, giving you a kiss and slipping a twenty in your pocket for all the great sex.” You tease.

Javier smirks, “I think at least a hundred considering you’ve cum every time since we met.” He raises his eyebrows at you and his hand slides down to squeeze your breast. “And there’s plenty more where that came from.” He promises with a chuckle.

You laugh with him, the sound turning into a moan when he pinches your nipple and you lean in to kiss him again. You know you are playing such a dangerous game, but Javier Peña is so much better than he ever gives himself credit for and you have fallen in love with you, you just can’t let him know that. “A hundred.” You agree breathlessly. “As long as you make me cum tonight too.” He hums, smirking at you devilishly, “oh that’s gonna happen, hermosa.”

*****

Javier holds your hand as you walk through the shopping center, his eyes constantly looking for anyone suspicious. Ever since Escobar would bomb shops and streets, he's been anxious about the Gentlemen of Cali following his example as they get more desperate. He glances around and spots a photo booth. It's ridiculous but he wants something to remember you by once you leave. "Let's take a photo, hermosa." He says, dragging you over to the booth.

Giggling quietly, you let him pull you into the booth and drag the flimsy curtain closed while he fishes his wallet out of his back pocket to feed money into the machine. He had a hard time because you turn your head and start kissing him, grinding your ass against his lap suggestively as a wild idea comes to mind. “Let’s take pictures fucking.” You whisper in his ear, wanting something crazy to remember your time with Javier by.

His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t deny you. His hands immediately reach up to drag your tank top down. “Wanna keep a photo of your tits.” He declares, hardening immediately beneath you. “You’re fucking perfect.” He groans as the camera flashes.

You twist around and kiss him again, laughing as he starts to rush to unbuckle his belt and pull his cock out. Your own fingers pushing your panties down under your skirt and as soon as his cock is in his hand, the camera goes off again. “We will have to do another round.” You tell him, quickly sinking down on his length with your skirt around your waist and your tits out in the middle of a Photo Booth.

“I got more money. We will stay in here as long as we want.” Javier promises, groaning at the way you grip his cock inside of you. Your cunt is always so wet and hot. He hisses as you clench down around him, your giggle echoing in the booth as the camera flashes again. He turns your head to press his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

The next time the camera flashes, you are bouncing on his cock and his hands are cupping your tits. You’re still kissing, your tongues tangled together and you moan into his mouth. It’s exciting and naughty, making you clench down around him because you know that you are out in public taking his cock.

He fucking loves how filthy you can be. His cock twitching inside of you as you rock your hips and he shifts to stand up, turning you around so you can brace yourself on the wall and he fucks into you, the camera flashing again and he knows it picked up his cock glistening with your arousal.

You bite down on your lip, not wanting to be too loud as he rocks into you from behind. Eyes rolling back, your head drops back on a low sigh, loving the way he shreds into you. Javi has a perfect cock and it hits all the right angles as your tits shake.

The machine starts to print the photos and Javier scrambles to pull his wallet out again, feeding the machine another bill while he’s still inside you. He rocks into you as he feeds the money and the machine whirls to life again. His hands come up to squeeze your tits and he groans when you grind back onto him.

“Fuck Javi, fuck.” You whimper quietly, eyes fluttering closed as he fucks you. You turn your head and kiss along his jaw until he tilts his head enough for you to kiss him again. You’ve never felt like this with anyone and you are going to be sad when you go back home.

The camera keeps flashing and Javier shifts to sit down again, wanting your face in the photos and he groans when you settle on top of him, facing the camera. Your tits sway as you rock on top of him and he wants you to cum on camera. His hand slides down to rub your clit, wanting you to fall over the edge for him.

Leaning back against his shoulder is so natural to you. In the time that you’ve been fucking, you’ve developed a natural rhythm that is so easy. You are uninhibited with him. “Javi.” You pant, stomach clenching when you feel his thick fingers expertly rub your clit. “Fuck I’m going to cum!” You squeal, mouth dropping open as you fall over the edge, right as the flash bursts again.

He loves the way you cum for him. His cock pushes up into you and he groans at the way you arch your back. His other hand squeezes your breast as he continues rubbing your clit until you push his hand away. “Good girl, hermosa. So fucking good for me.” He grunts, thrusting up into you a few more times before he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed and it’s captured on camera.

You continue to move, feeling his hands holding your hips tight as he floods your pussy with his cum. A feeling you have become completely addicted to. “God.” You giggle quietly, turning and pressing your lips to his. “I can’t wait to see how these turn out.” The first set of prints have been spit out and are developed, making you reach forward to snatch it up to look at while he’s still buried inside you.

He groans when you rock on his cock, the strip of photos in his hand and he smirks when he sees the different positions of your body and his. “Fuck, those are hot. You look so fucking sexy.” He murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Me, look at you.” You huff, biting your lip at the eroticism of it all. “I’m keeping this one. You can have the other one.” The machine spits out another strip of pictures and you snatch them up to compare. “This is great.” You clench down around him playfully. “Something to remember the amazing sex by.” You tease. “I’m going to have to pull these out and show my friends when I talk about the amazing cock of Javier Peña.”

Javier chuckles and kisses your shoulder, “I’ll keep it in my wallet. Jerk off to it when you’re gone.” He promises and his hands caress your sides until he sighs, “we better get dressed in case someone wants to come in here.” He chuckles, “come on baby.” He smacks your ass when you stand up.

You hiss in pleasure, pulling your panties back up and it will be a little experiment to see how much of his cum you can keep inside you while you are walking around. You tuck the strip of pictures you are keeping into your purse and take his wallet from where it’s sitting on the cash inserted to put it in with his money. “Nice and safe, babe.”

He turns your head to kiss you, sliding his tongue into your mouth and he caresses your side. You’ll be heading home soon and he doesn’t know how he’s gonna handle it but he will. He will love looking at those photos when you’re gone.

****

“So, I guess this is it.” Your carry on is slung over your shoulder and you bite your lip as you turn towards Javier at your gate. “You didn’t have to bring me to the airport.” True to his word, he had made sure you were safe the entire time you were in Colombia and had shown up this morning at your hotel to drive you to the airport. “Ready to make sure I’m gone, huh?” You tease. “Not causing trouble?”

Javier snorts, pulling you into his chest. “Yeah. Can’t wait to get rid of you.” He chuckles and presses his lips to your hair. It’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker to let you go but what can he do? He sighs and slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, his lips finding yours after he nudges your nose.

You sigh softly, your hands sinking into the hair at the base of his neck one last time. You hate leaving, wanting him to ask you to stay. You would. You’ve fallen completely in love with him, but love wasn’t what you two had anticipated and you wouldn’t make him feel guilty. Despite your fun ways, you wanted a family one day and he readily admits he’s not the marrying kind. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I had a hell of a time and I want you to be safe.”

“Where’s my hundred bucks?” He teases and you snort, “I left it in your Jeep.” You reveal and he rolls his eyes, “I was only joking, hermosa.” You caress his chest and he kisses you softly again just as your gate is called. “Go, baby. I’ll see you around.” He pats your ass and winks at you. He knows he can’t say goodbye when you’re taking his goddamn heart with you so for now, he will say see you later and pray it’s not too rough when he’s alone in bed.

You give your ticket to the gate agent and you turn back to look at Javier one last time. His eyes are so damn expressive but you know he wants you to go. Instead of making a scene or declaring your love, you give him a saucy wink and a smile before you disappear onto the gangway. You haven’t exchanged numbers and you know you will never see Javier Peña again.

**** 

“Hey man. Thanks for buying lunch.” Chris says to his boss after he pulls out his wallet. “Sure.” Javier grunts, pulling out some cash and the photo strip you’d put in there falls out. 

Chris ducks down to get it and whistles as he sees the photos. “Goddamn. Nice set of tits.” He declares as he holds the strip and Javier growls, snatching it back from him. “Who was that?” Chris asks and Javier huffs, shoving his wallet back into his pants, “none of your fucking business.” 

**** 

“Who is that?” Walter asks his boss who smirks, “Javier Peña. Caught Cali. Fought to get Escobar. Big deal around here, man. He transferred to our office last week and he knows his shit. Tried to retire but apparently got bored and wanted back in. The higher ups in D.C let him have his choice and he chose to come here to be close to his dad. We are lucky as shit to have him here.” The boss announces even though Javier will be his boss. 

Walter nods, “what a legend. You think he’d want to have lunch with me? I could pick his brain about my case.” The boss shrugs, “worst he could do is tell you to fuck off.” Walter chuckles nervously and his boss walks off then Walter waits until just before lunch and finds Javier in his office, cigarette in hand. 

“Hey. I, uh, my name is Walter. You maybe wanna get some lunch? I have a case and I need some insight.” Javier looks up at the man who seems a little too green to be a DEA agent but he nods, knowing that he will sit in his office and have coffee and smokes for lunch unless he goes out. “Sure.” Javier nods and Walter beams, excited to speak to the legend that is Agent Peña. Lunch went well and Javier finds himself liking Walter. He reminds him of Steve and he finds himself going to lunch with him most days, discussing his case and Javier tries to assist with his experience as much as he can. 

“Listen, I really appreciate all your help. I wondered if you wanted to come for dinner. My lady makes an awesome pot roast and I’d like to thank you for all your help.” Javier hesitates, knowing that he’s stepping over the line to go to the guy’s house but he doesn’t have a lot of friends in Houston so he nods, agreeing and reminding himself that he needs to make friends otherwise he will be a lonely fucker.

“Sweetheart, it’s really important.” You try to suppress a sigh as you add running to the store to the ingredients to make a pot roast for dinner to your list of chores. Walter is great, but sometimes he does things without talking to you, when it adds more work to your already full plate. You feel slightly ungrateful, since you just moved in with him, out of the older, rough neighborhood where you lived and it has been a wonderful thing - you just feel like he’s trying to push you into being a perfect suburban housewife. Something you honestly weren’t. 

“Mooooooom!” You nod when your son starts to call for you, needing help with his toy again, you hate that Walter had brought that damn thing home, but you get that he was trying to bond with your son. “Sure.” You agree, setting down the t-shirt you had been folding. “I’ll go to the store in the morning. I’m off anyway.” 

Javier rubs his hands on his jeans as he stands outside the perfect little suburban house. It’s cute and makes Javier wonder for a brief moment if this is what his life with Lorraine would’ve looked like. He hesitates for a second, glancing down the street and he knows he needs to socialize more. He clears his throat and rings the doorbell. He hears footsteps and the door opens and he looks down, his eyes wide when he sees a little boy. “Hi mister.” He says and Javier chuckles, looking up and he asks, “is your dad home?” The boy shakes his head, “he’s not my daddy.” Javier nods and he smiles because the little boy looks like he did at that age. 

Walter appears a moment later, “hey man. Sorry about him.” He says and ushers the little boy away, “come in.” Javier chuckles again, stepping into the house. Walter shouts your name and Javier pauses briefly at the name that’s haunted him for years. He knows it can’t be you but he freezes when you walk out of the kitchen and Walter wraps his arm around your waist.

Your heart stops, the man you’ve thought about every day for nearly six years. The one you think of every time you look in your son’s face. Your stomach churning, you realize that Walter is introducing you and you plaster a slightly sick, polite smile on your face. When you had come back to the states, you had realized that you were pregnant and by the time you had gathered the courage to call the embassy in Colombia to tell Javier, he had left. You had kicked yourself for not exchanging information, but you had taken it as a sign that you were supposed to be a single mother and had persevered. It was hard, damn hard, and you had always wondered if Walter had ever heard of the father of your child since he was DEA, but you had never talked about him with your boyfriend. Keeping the memory of Colombia to yourself beyond telling him that you had been when you were younger.

Javier feels like he’s been kicked in the gut. He’s thought about you damn near every day for six years. The woman he let go and he never got her phone number. He kicked himself every fucking day and here you are in front of him with his coworker and a little boy that looks just like him who’s about 5. He swallows harshly, stepping forward to shake your hand, and he is certain that Walter doesn’t know. He wouldn’t invite Javier to dinner to read him the riot act for abandoning a child he never knew about. Your hand is soft and Javier hates the spark that travels up his arm when he touches you. You’ve changed your hair and you look a little older but no less beautiful than the day you left Colombia. “It’s nice to meet you.” He manages to choke out, hating that he can't just pull you into his chest.

Swallowing harshly, your voice cracks slightly when you speak. “Ni-nice to meet you.” He’s going along like you’ve never met and while you are grateful because you don’t know how you will explain this to Walter, it also hurts. You wonder if he’s as shaken as you are. “Walter - he said you work together?” You ask, wondering why the hell he didn’t at least tell you Javier’s name. “He doesn’t talk about work much.” You confide. “Too much of it is classified.”

Javier nods, “yeah. I just transferred to the Houston office. I was down in Cali Colombia for a few years, Medellín before that. Came back home to retire and got restless so I’m here in Houston. No family to keep me busy so Walter took pity on me and invited me for dinner.” He explains, rubbing his cheek for a second and your son rushes off to get the new toy Walter bought him. 

“Do you like my car?” He asks Javier who kneels down, knowing in his heart that this is his son. He always knew it would happen one day, that he’d accidentally get someone pregnant.

You bite your lip when you see Javi with your son. You see the silent confirmation in his eyes when he looks up. He knows that your son is his. “I’ll go get some drinks.” You offer, needing a moment to compose yourself and you rush off to the kitchen, knowing you will pour yourself one to drink before  making anyone else’s.

Javier is still kneeling down admiring the car and he asks the little boy his name, “it’s Diego.” He declares proudly and Javier can’t help but smile, “Diego.” He repeats the boy’s name and he lets him talk about the car until Walter interrupts. “Enough with the damn car, kid. Go to your room until dinner is ready.” Javier clenches his jaw but knows it would be wrong for him to say anything and he stands up, winking at the little boy, “I wanna see the rest of your collection before I leave.” Diego grins and rushes off just as you bring a tray of drinks into the living room. “Thanks, her- thanks.” Javier corrects himself as he takes the drink from your tray.

You nod and Walter kisses your cheek as he takes his own drink. “Thanks, babe.” He takes a sip of his whiskey and chuckles. “This is the first time we’ve entertained since you’ve moved in.” He realizes before he looks at Javi. “She wasn’t living in the best neighborhood when we met. It’s actually how we met.”

That rubs Javier wrong, knowing that you lived in a shitty neighborhood with his son. He looks at you and you avert your gaze, smiling at Walter. “It wasn’t that bad.” You argue and Walter scoffs, “they had fucking gunshots every night.” Javier grips his glass a little tighter. “It’s a good thing you live in such a perfect suburb now.” Javier offers Walter a smile.

“Yeah, I wanted to get her out of there.” He boasts. “She was too good to be there wasting away and the kid is in a better school.” You feel uneasy about the conversation, because you had seriously looked at all the aspects when you were debating moving in with Walter. “We met because I called in about some drug houses nearby.” You explain. “Walter was the agent who came out to investigate.”

Javier nods in understanding and wishes he had been the agent to respond to that call but that’s below his rank and he wasn’t in town at that stage. “Meth house. Luckily she called in, because that place was moments away from exploding.” Walter declares and Javier snorts, “idiots trying to make shit they don’t understand. They always try to do it on the cheap. Best meth houses I’ve seen are in nice houses.” Javier explains, “I’m glad you’re in a better place.” Javier says to you with sincerity.

You smile quickly, conflicted even more now that you see Javier again. All the feelings you had sworn were faded to a bittersweet memory are rushing back and you feel guilty about that. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I just want the best for Diego.”

Javier nods, glad that you seem to have been handling being a single mother. The guilt feels like rocks settled in his stomach but he can’t talk to you about it right now. Obviously Walter doesn’t know who the father is and you aren’t volunteering the news. “I can’t believe you took down Cali. What was it like? Your time there?” Walter asks and Javier sighs, “it was difficult. The men that commit those kinds of crimes have no empathy, no emotion. They just do what they please. No rules and that makes it difficult to handle. Imagine fighting an enemy that doesn’t care if women and children are killed. It’s hard to fight an endless war. I was lonely. It’s hard, you can’t make connections because those people are at risk. I fought hard but I’m glad to be back home.”

You bite your lip, remembering the almost desperate ways Javi would hold onto you, especially while he was inside you. Like he was afraid of losing you. You wish you had stayed, despite the danger, giving him a refuge. “Hopefully you had someone?” You probe, making it seem innocent, but really asking if he had moved on to someone else after you had left.

“For about a month or so but she had to leave. After that…I was alone. Didn’t want to put anyone in danger.” He reveals to you with a soft smile and Walter chuckles, “I heard you were in whorehouses every night.” Javier shakes his head, “not when I was in Cali. During the Escobar years, yeah. I did what it took to get the job done and men like to spill their secrets while inside a woman.” He says, “it’s what we had to do.”

The timer in the kitchen buzzes and you jump slightly, caught up in the memories of Cali. “That’s dinner.” You huff with a small laugh. “Let me get it on the table while you two talk.” Your cheeks burn, feeling his eyes watching as you escape back to the kitchen. Unable to believe that Javier is back in your life.

Javier sits down at the table and Diego comes rushing in, hungry for his dinner, and Javi finds he can’t take his eyes off of the young boy. He’s missed so much of his life and he needs to speak to you because he doesn’t want to miss anything else. Walter occupies the dinner with his stories about his cases and Javier hums and nods in the right spots while you and Diego talk about his school day. Javier would rather listen to the little boy but he forces himself to listen to Walter. “That was incredible.” Javier declares, his plate clean, and you offer him that smile that seemingly still makes his heart flutter.

“I made a cake for dessert.” You offer. “Tres leche, it’s Diego’s favorite.” You explain, ignoring the way Walter rolls his eyes. He sometimes accuses you of spoiling your son, but in your defense, he’s entitled to have special treats because for so long they were luxuries you couldn’t routinely provide. “And I made some coffee?”

Javier smiles, “sounds delicious. Let me help with the plates.” He offers and Walter shakes his head, “the boy can do it.” Javier clenches his jaw and looks at his coworker. “I’ll handle it. He is still a little kid.” Javier stands up and grabs the plates, stacking them while Diego glances across the room to his pile of toys with longing. “He needs to learn some manners.” Walter scoffs and Javier refrains from punching the prick talking about his son like that. He doesn’t respond and makes his way into the kitchen, “were you ever gonna tell me? Why didn’t you call?” Javier whispers, pissed off that you didn’t let him know he has a kid.

Glancing towards the door, you motion for him to be quiet. “I did.” You murmur quietly. “You had already left Colombia.” You know you could have tried harder, but you were just trying to focus on your pregnancy at the time.

Javier stares at you, his chest tightening and he feels a little sick. “Jesus. I- I had left and I didn’t even - I didn’t have your number otherwise I would’ve called you. I’ve missed out on so much. I’m so sorry.” He chokes, closing his eyes for a second.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” You murmur softly. “It’s not your fault. It just….happened.” You know Walter will be expecting cake and coffee, so you pull the cake out of the fridge and start slicing it.

Javier doesn’t like the way you seem to jump to whatever Walter wants but it’s not his place to say anything. “Can I - I want to get to know him. To be his father. Can we have a time where I’m introduced to him officially?” Javier asks, wanting to make sure you’d be okay with that.

“I- I don’t know-“ you hesitate to say no because you know that Javier would be a good father. “Let me think about it.” You decide, knowing that would have to be good enough for right now. You plate up the slices of cake and pour the coffee. “Alright! Who’s ready for cake?” You call out, making Diego cheer.

Javier’s chest tightens and he knows he has no right to demand access to his son after you’ve raised him alone but he desperately wants the chance to be the father his son should’ve had from birth. He sighs and follows you out to the dining room where Diego has his toy car and Walter is staring at the TV in the corner of the room that is on mute.

“Here you go, mijo.” You smooth his hair down, pressing a kiss to his head and Diego ducks in embarrassment. “Moooom.” He huffs, even if he’s excited for cake. You chuckle and serve Walter his cake as well, going back to the kitchen for the coffee.

Javier watches you walk into the kitchen for a second before Walter clears his throat and asks Javier about the latest case against some thugs from the city that just got busted in the biggest drug seizure in the U.S. Javier shrugs, “even the biggest operations mess up. It’s about timing and tenacity.”

Walter shrugs. “They are all stupid, they are dealing drugs.” He tells Javi. “I don’t know how they think they can outsmart us.”

Javier snorts, “a lot do. They have one thing we don’t have: no rules. They can do whatever they want. They don’t have red tape and paperwork and warrants. They don’t care about innocents getting hurt. They only care about their money and they will do whatever it takes to get it. A lot slip under the radar because of it.” Javier shrugs and takes a bite of the cake, moaning at the taste. “This is just like my mama used to make.”

Walter snorts at his answer while you beam, bringing the cups of coffee back into the room, a cup of milk for Diego. “Thank you.” You set his coffee down and hand Walter his. “Diego, when you finish your cake, it’s bath time.” The boy groans and huffs quietly but he nods. “Yes mama.”

The boy digs back into his cake but is slower this time, making Javier chuckle and Walter huffs, “when he’s in bed, we can have a smoke and talk about that case down on the border.” Javier nods and you set his coffee down, just like he used to have it. “Thank you.” He says, his eyes lingering on you for a second too long.

Walter lifts a brow, but he doesn’t say anything, patting you on the ass as you walk by to your chair. You bite your lip, not looking over at Javi as you pick up your fork. “I’ll let you two talk while I clean up then.”

Javier watches you gather Diego to get him ready for bed. The five year old whines in protest which makes Javier chuckle because he used to do the same to his mama and he ignores the way Walter looks at him with curiosity.

“Didn’t take you for a man who likes kids.” Walter snorts after making sure that you are in the hall bathroom and the water is turned on. “I’m not really either, but mom is worth it.” He brags. “Plus the little snot isn’t so bad. Not like he has a dad to run to when he doesn’t like me.”

Javier taps his fingers on the table, “he’s a cute kid. Seems like she’s raised him well. As for the dad…well, you never know. He could show up one day.” Javier says and Walter snorts, “unlikely. She said it was a one night stand.” Walter says and Javier’s heart aches at that. He knows he didn’t call you but you spent a lot of time together during your stint in Colombia.

In the bathroom, you are playing with Diego, laughing as he scrubs the bubble through his hair and barely manages not to get too soaked as he splashes with his toys. Javier is here. He knows about your son. You look at the boy you had created with him and you sigh softly. Wondering if you are doing the right thing. The same worry you’ve had since you found out you were pregnant with your son.

Javier and Walter talk about the case down on the border with the drug mules and he finally takes his leave just as you come out from getting Diego in bed. “I’m heading out. I have a meeting early in the morning.” Javier says, “thank you for dinner. It was, uh, great to meet you.” He says and you nod, “yeah. You too.” You respond and Walter slaps Javier on the back as he guides him to the front door. Javier glances back at you before he steps out of the house, reeling from the fact that he has a son. The question is if you are going to let him be involved.

****

The phone rings as you open the door, Diego rushing in with his school bag to drop it and play with his toys and you hurry to where the phone is hanging on the wall. “Hello?” You answer breathlessly, wondering if it’s Walter since he’s supposed to be working late tonight.

Javier hesitates for a second before he says your name, “it’s Javier. I- I wanted to talk to you while Walter isn’t there. I want…I want to meet my son. Officially.” He declares, knowing he has a right even if he hasn’t been there for the past five years. He didn’t know about his existence.

“Javi….” You grip the phone tight and turn around so Diego won’t see you, he’s busy with his toys but you don’t want him to see you upset. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You admit. “Walter doesn’t- he doesn’t know who Diego’s father is. I don’t want to complicate things.”

“I won’t tell him. If you don’t want him to know. I just - I need to meet him. See him. I can’t carry on and pretend like I don’t have a son.” He runs his fingers through his hair, his fingers flexing around the phone.

His plea tugs on your heart and it makes you feel even more guilty about not calling the embassy sooner. How would things have been different if you had told him? He had been firmly of the opinion he wasn’t a family man, and yet he is wanting to know Diego. “I- Walter is working late tonight.” You tell Javi. “So I had planned on taking Diego to the park in about an hour.”

“What park?” Javier asks, reaching for a notepad to write down the park name. He’s determined to be there for his son. He won’t be an absent father even if Walter doesn’t like it. You tell him the name and he nods, telling you he will see you there in an hour.

Sighing softly, you hang up the phone and turn to your son. “Mijo, you want to go to the park?” Your energetic five year old is always ready for the park and he jumps up from his toys with an excited cry. “Yeah!” The pure joy on his face makes you smile. “Come on then. Dinner first okay?”

Javier pulls into the park and he’s thankful when he spots you and Diego already there so he doesn’t have to hang around the parking lot like a creepy old man. He gets out and makes his way over to the bench where you are sitting. “Thanks for meeting me.” He says as he sits down beside you.

“You’re welcome.” You are nervous, something that is so odd considering you were so open and free with Javier at one point in time. You take a deep breath. “Okay….let's hear it.”

Javier watches Diego from across the park, his smile wide as he plays with another kid. “I get it. I told you one night that I wasn’t the guy who got married and had kids. Told you about Lorraine and all that shit. I get why you wouldn’t tell me. I’m not gonna win father of the year but I’d at least like to try. I’ve missed out on so much with him and I want to be there for my son. Even if…even if you don’t want him to know I’m his dad.”

“I tried to call.” You remind him, reaching out and touching his arm before you remember that you shouldn’t be reaching for the man who isn’t your boyfriend. “I didn’t want to call the DEA and ask about you. And when I met Walter….” You sigh. “I was afraid it would be wrong of me to use him to find you. I don’t regret keeping Diego.” You promise, turning and smiling as he runs for the slide. “He’s the light of my life.”

Javier smiles, wishing he could reach for your hand but you’re not his, you never were. “Walter doesn’t seem to be all in on being a stepfather.” Javier observes and he sighs, “sorry. That was - that was out of line. It’s not my place.” He shakes his head, “you’re with Walter. I just - I want the best for my son. Even if that means me stepping away.”

You frown, hearing him voice your own private worries. You’ve noticed that the friendliness of your boyfriend had worn off, but you had assumed that it was just the growing pains of moving in together. He wasn’t used to kids. “If I had- if you knew, would you have wanted to be involved?” You ask curiously.

Javier nods without hesitation. “I would have been involved. I was raised to take responsibility and I would’ve absolutely been there for you and our son.” He promises, glancing at you.

You had known that he would, but you lean a little closer. “Would you have resented me for it?” You press. “I don’t want Diego to just be a responsibility to you, you don’t owe me anything.”

Javier shakes his head, “I would’ve never resented you for getting pregnant. I was - I was surprised it had never happened by accident when I was in Colombia before during Escobar. Always mentally prepared for it to happen. I’m back home now and I tried to retire, to stay on my Pa’s farm and relax but I didn’t have any purpose. I need a purpose and my purpose now is my son. I want to know him. I want to be there for him. Not out of obligation but out of want.”

His words make your heart melt and you bite your lip. “I think you should get to know him.” You admit. “I would love that. I just- I need to figure out how to tell Walter at some point.” You know you can’t keep it a secret, but you are dreading the conversation.

Javier nods, “whenever you’re ready. I’m not going to rush you on that. I do want to be there for our son but I’m not here to mess with the life you’ve created.” He promises just as Diego rushes over. “Mom. Mom. Look what I found.” He holds out his hand towards you and shows you the shell he found in the sandpit.

“It’s so pretty, mijo.” You coo over the shell, knowing how much he loves finding pretty little things and you pull him close. “Do you remember mister Javi, from dinner the other night?” You ask, making him look over at Javier with a quick nod. “He wants to see all my cars!” He nearly shouts it with excitement, always eager to show off his toys and talk about them. It makes you smile. “Uh huh he does, but, there’s a big surprise that we want to tell you about.” You explain. “I’ve met mister Javi before. He’s your daddy.”

Diego's eyes widen as he looks at Javier who offers him his soft smile, "hey buddy. I'm your dad." He says quietly and Diego stares at him before his brow furrows and he says "I'm five. Where were you?" The little boy asks Javier who shifts awkwardly on the bench but leans closer. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was fighting bad guys and it wasn't safe for your mommy and you. I am back home now and it's safe."

“He didn’t know, baby.” You promise him. “He was doing things to fight the bad guys and it was scary. So I didn’t tell him.” You are willing to take the blame. “But he wants to know you.”

Diego's lip trembles slightly as he looks between his parents until he surges forward to wrap his arms around Javier's neck, dragging him down until Javier shifts onto his knees on the gravel and wraps his arms around the little boy. His eyes sting with unshed tears and he closes his eyes, unable to believe that he's holding his son.

Tears slip down your cheeks as you watch Javi hold his son close. Pressing your hand to your mouth to keep from making a sound, you know you were so wrong to keep Javi from his son. You wish you had your camera with you to take a picture of the sweet moment.

Javier rubs his back and pulls back after a moment to look at Diego. He cups his cheek and smiles at him, "I'm here now, mijo." He murmurs, stroking his cheek. "You wanna go on the swings?" He asks, wanting to have a bonding moment with him.

You don’t offer to go with them, wanting them to have a moment to themselves. You had wondered what Javi would ever do if he found out you had his child and now you have your answer. He might not ever have felt anything more than causal affection and lust, but it’s obvious he wants a connection with his child. You just wonder how this will complicate things for him at work with Walter. You’ll have to tell him at some point.

Javier grins as he pushes Diego on the swings, enjoying the way his son laughs and squeals. He cannot believe how much he's missed out on but he's determined to be there now for his son. Diego escorts him around the playground and Javier follows him until you call out that it's getting late. Javier is disappointed but understands as he guides Diego over to you. "Time to go buddy." Javier announces, his hand on the little boy's shoulder squeezes to reassure him.

“We will play again, right?” Diego demands and you quickly nod. “We will, sweetheart. I promise.” You glance from him to Javier and bite your lip. “Soon. As soon as we can, alright? Your daddy and I will work something out.”

Diego nods and Javier bends down to give him another hug. “You listen to your mom, okay? And I’ll see you soon.” He promises the little boy who grins at his father. “Call me when you can.” Javier says, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket. “My number is on there.”

You look at the scrap of paper and wonder how different things would be if you had given him your number so long ago, or if you had a number for him in the states. Nodding, you tuck it into your pocket and take Diego’s hand. “We should get back. I’m sure Walter will be home in a few hours.” You tilt your head. “You must not be working on the same case, since you’re here. He said he’s going to have a busy week this week.”

Javier frowns, "I didn't hear about a case but Walter might be working on something new. Things can move fast sometimes." Javier says and he is confused because there hasn't been a meeting about anything other than the border issue, which is still ongoing.

You smile and shrug. “Like I said, he doesn’t discuss much with me.” It’s completely different than when you and Javi were tangled together, sweaty and satiated in your little hotel room. That was when he was the most talkative, sometimes confiding in you and sounding things out. You miss that. “How are you sleeping?” You ask, wondering if he’s still plagued with sleepless nights. He had claimed that sleeping beside you had been peaceful and hopefully he had learned what made that so good.

He shrugs one shoulder, “some nights are good. Some…well, whiskey is a good companion.” He snorts, “only have it on nights I really can’t sleep.” He admits and knows he shouldn’t drink as much as he does but it’s how he quells the nightmares. Sex hasn’t really been an option since he came home. Well, since you.

You sigh softly and Diego tugs on your hand, impatient to not be standing around and talking. Bored now that he’s not playing. “I-I’ll call you, okay?” You offer. “To set something up, and….talk.” You know he had a million questions that need to be asked when Diego isn’t around and you owe him that.

Javier nods, “thanks, hermosa.” He says without even thinking about the nickname. “I- I appreciate this more than you’d ever know.” He promises and looks down at Diego. “See you soon, buddy.” He winks and Diego waves at him. Javier makes his way back to his truck and gets in, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel as he watches you get Diego into the car. He’s missed you and to know that you are with someone is killing him but he has to accept it.

****

“It’s just a bowling party.” You feel guilty for lying to Walter, but he’s been busy anyway. Coming home late for the past two weeks since he’s been putting in a lot of overtime on his new case. There hasn’t been time to sit down and have a serious talk with him about Javi being Diego’s father. Still, your stomach churns and you wish you had just been honest in the beginning instead of sneaking around to meet Javi so he can spend time with his son. They’ve met nearly every other day and you’ve always been along, trusting Javi, but wanting to be there for Diego. You clutch the phone in your hand and turn to look at the clock. “We’ve got to go if we are going to make it on time. You’re working late again?”

Walter hums down the line as he shuffles his papers. “Yeah. Late night again. Trying to catch these bastards.” Walter says and you move around the house with the cordless phone at your ear, gathering Diego’s things. “We will see you later then.” You say and Walter just grunts and ends the call. When you arrive at the bowling alley, Javier is already there. He bought the lane and got some shoes for himself but didn’t know about your size and Diego’s. He shifts awkwardly but smiles when you walk in. “Hey.” He waves after he stands up.

“Daddy!” Diego breaks away from you and rushes towards Javier, obviously excited to see him. Every interaction has shown you what a good man, a good father Javier is. You had known he would be, but you find yourself dangerously comparing the men in your life and you know that it’s not fair to Walter. You owe him your heart because you are with him and he’s been so good to you. However, Javier is just so natural with your son. “Hey.” You follow behind, greeting him when he’s holding Diego up and hugging him tight. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

Javier shakes his head, “no. Not long. I ordered some drinks. Juice for Diego. Got you a beer.” He smiles and gestures to the lane, “and I had them put the guards up and got a slide so Diego can get a strike.” He winks at his son who beams back, excited to do this with his dad.

“Thanks.” You know you shouldn’t accept it, but it’s been a long week and a beer will be nice. “I’ll go get him some shoes.” You tell Javi and he hands you two tickets. “I want you to play too.” He murmurs. “Do this together.” You feel your stomach churn in pleasure at him thinking about you and nod. “Sure.” You smile and nod, taking the tickets and turning towards the booth that has all the bowling shoes.

Once you and Diego have your shoes, Javier helps his son line up the ladder and he lifts the ball onto the top, holding on. "You ready, mijo? On the count of three. One...two...three!" Javier says and Diego lets go of the wall, watching it roll down the lane in the middle until it hits the pins and takes all ten down. "Good job!" Javier cheers, lifting Diego up and he grins, looking up at his father.

Another moment you know they deserve. You clap happily for Diego and cheer, knowing he will be proud of himself and in turn, love Javi even more. “Way to go!” You are completely taken aback when they turn to you, their grins are the exact same and you shake your head in awe of it.

Javier plays the next bowl and gets his own strike, Diego eagerly high fiving him for his success and Javier comes over to you. “You turn, hermosa.” He says, writing down his score on the card.

“Sooo much pressure.” You huff, grinning at the way Diego is perched between Javi’s legs the second his dad sits down. It’s as if this is a normal family outing, the three of you never being apart. “Let me seeeee.” You walk over to the ball return and pick up the red ball Diego had used. “Can I use this for luck?” You ask and turn when your son says it’s okay. You spin the ball down the lane and only manage to knock down one pin. “Well….darn.” You huff, having cut down on your cursing around your son.

Javier tuts, patting Diego's shoulders as he stands up. "You can do it, hermosa." He says and walks over to you, grabbing the same ball when it returns. He reaches for you, showing you how to position your feet and he stands behind you, helping you pull your arm back to throw the ball down the lane.

You aren’t paying attention to a word he says. Too busy inhaling the smell of his cologne, the same one he wore in Colombia, so it’s a familiar scent. You shiver slightly and bite your lip as you stumble forward to let the ball go down the lane.

Javier holds your waist as you watch the ball roll down the lane until it hits right in the middle and the pins all fall down. “Yeah! Mommy!” Diego cheers and Javier pulls you into his arms to hug you. “Good job, hermosa.” He cheers and you embrace him for a second until he’s pulling back, clearing his throat when he realizes he overstepped. “Uh, I’ll write down the score.” He says, stepping back to the podium while Diego rushes to hug you.

You hate how your entire body reacts to Javi’s touch and it’s clear to you that you still have feelings for him. You’ve never stopped having feelings, but the physical attraction is still there. You concentrate on Diego and let him praise you for the turn before you busy yourself helping him with his next roll.

Javier realizes that he’s overstepped and he knows that if Walter were there, he’d be rightfully punching his lights out. Javier takes a gulp of his beer and Diego rushes over, asking for his help to line up his ball. Javier nods and stands, his eyes glancing at you for a moment until he’s helping Diego line up the slide for the ball. When you finish bowling, Diego is whining about leaving his dad. “We will go to the movies soon, buddy.” He promises and ruffles Diego’s hair.

“I wish I could sleep over at your house.” He tells his dad and turns his big eyes over to you. “Johnny has sleepovers at his dad’s house on the weekends. They go eat breakfast together and sometimes his mommy comes too.” You bite your lip and look up at Javi. “We will have to talk about that.” You tell your son, not wanting to say no, but not sure if Javi actually wanted the responsibility of taking care of Diego without you.

Javier wants that. He wants more time with his son. With you. He can’t have that though so he has to settle for seeing his son now and then and wanting you when he’s alone in bed thinking about those precious weeks in Colombia. Looking back, he fell in love with you at that time and refused to acknowledge it, but those feelings apparently never left because it’s like a punch in the gut when he sees your smile. “Me and your mom will talk, buddy.” He promises and you glance at your watch. “We better be heading home.” You announce and Diego pouts just like you do, making Javier smile. “We will check the movies in the newspaper soon, mijo. Go see something.” Javier promises and Diego nods. You get your shoes on after handing the bowling ones to the desk and when you’re ready, Diego rushes over to hug his daddy goodbye. Javier kisses his hair and rubs his back, “see you later.” Javier stands up and smiles at you, stepping forward to kiss your cheek, “see you later, hermosa.” He murmurs, resisting the urge to kiss you to see how you’d react but he can’t overstep and ruin this for this son.

Your eyes flutter closed and if you just turned your head a few inches to the left, your lips would be against his again. You’ve imagined it a thousand times, as guilty as that makes you feel. You need to talk to Walter and you need to be honest with yourself about what you want. Your future seemed so easy before Javier showed back up in your life, but now…. Now, you dream about a dark haired man that had been the best lover of your life and is the father of your son. You are so screwed.

**** 

Javier rubs his forehead, the cigarette in his hand as he looks over the file to sign off on the latest case. He sighs and taps his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray and glances at the clock. It’s late. Everyone should be gone from the office but he hears a scream. Standing up in shock, Javier rushes through the office, wanting to make sure no one has been hurt. He’s confused why anyone is here. Most people leave as soon as the day is done. The scream happens again and he rushes through the office until he comes to an open door. Walter’s office. He stands there, taking in the scene. Walter has a woman on his desk, her legs around his waist as he fucks into her and Javier clenches his jaw. 

The bastard is cheating on you. He doesn’t confront him, not wanting to let him get ahead on his story with you even if Walter doesn’t know that Javier has seen you since that dinner at his house. Javier turns and heads back to his office, knowing he needs to tell you but he doesn’t know how or when. He doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to intentionally ruin your relationship.

Looking at the clock, you sigh softly when the phone rings. It’s probably Walter, telling you that he’s working late again, even though you’ve already figured that out when he didn’t come home for dinner. Diego is asleep, you are watching tv and pondering what you are going to do. Since moving in with Walter, you’ve managed to save up some money, but it isn’t much. Still, you feel so disconnected from the man you are living with, you know that it’s not right to continue living here. You’re using him, since all your thoughts are focused on Javier Peña. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me.” Javier says and you lean against the wall, holding the phone. “Javi.” You murmur and he isn’t sure how to tell you. “I need to talk to you. Can I come over?” He asks, knowing that Walter isn’t done yet. He’s usually gone for hours from what you said in the past.

It’s late and you almost say no. It’s a bad idea to have Javi here, but there’s an urgency to his voice that makes you hesitate. “Is everything okay?” You ask, but he just asks if he can come over again and you bite your lip. “Sure. How long will it take you to get here?”

“I’m about to leave the office.” He says, “I’ll be there in ten.” He tells you and puts the phone down, grabbing his jacket. He strides out to his truck, knowing that Walter is still in his office with his secret lover, and Javier speeds to your house, getting out and ringing the doorbell.

You had just checked on Diego and when the doorbell rings, you rush to the door. “That was quicker than ten minutes.” You joke as he shuffles into the house and you close the door behind him. “Is everything alright? I- I made coffee.”

Javier nods, “yeah. I, uh, I - shit. I don’t know how to say this without sounding like the biggest asshole in the world because you could take it the wrong way but I was working late and I saw - I saw Walter fucking one of the secretaries.” He reveals, chest heaving slightly and he prays you don’t reject his claim.

You stop short, immediately furrowing your brows together. Javier has never lied to you, ever. He’s always been upfront and honest and you don’t see why he would lie now. “He’s what?” Your stomach twists and you wonder if this is the sign you needed to make your decision. “He’s supposed to be- are you sure?” You ask, shaking your head as a million different questions and thoughts jumble around in your brain.

“Call his office. He’s there. He was - he was in there with her and I- I’m so sorry.” He chokes, hoping you don’t hate him and he shakes his head, “call him. He’s at work, but he’s with her. I wouldn’t lie to you, cariño.” He promises and his eyes widen as you shake your head.

“I don’t believe it.” You fume, not mad at him, but at the audacity of your boyfriend. Why would he ever move you in and want to commit when he was cheating? Picking up the phone, you quickly dial his office phone.

Javier wipes his hands on his jeans, feeling guilty for coming to you to give you this news but he doesn’t want you or his son around a man that would cheat on you. He shakes his head and waits as you listen to the phone ring.

Your hands shake as you wait, the phone ringing nearly four times before you hear Walter answer. “Hey babe.” You coo, even though you want to scream at him. He’s breathless and panting as he greets you and asks what you want. Reminding you that he’s busy. “I just wanted to see what time you are coming home tonight.” You tell him. “You’ve been working a lot of late nights.” You hum, turning around and glaring at Javi as you listen to him lie to you and talk about how the case is kicking his ass. You hear a woman giggle in the background. Walter must think you are stupid. “Okay. Well, you be careful and I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

Walter hums and says goodbye before the line goes dead and you stare at it before placing it back on the wall. “You’re right.” You tell Javier and he doesn’t say anything, “I’m sorry. I didn’t - I can’t stand by and watch him do that to you and our son.” He says and you nod, still shocked by the revelation.

“I have to leave him.” You murmur quietly, shaking your head again and feeling ashamed that you aren’t more upset. You don’t love him. You had been starting to realize that and when you heard that quiet giggle, it’s like every ounce of affection you had for him had died. “I have to pack.” You won’t stay here another night, you can’t. “God…okay, I need to pack.”

“You can come stay with me.” He volunteers, “I have a spare room and I- I don’t want you staying here if that’s the kind of guy he is. Or I can get you guys a hotel room and help you find an apartment. I don’t want to think about you and him here when he’s fucking some other woman. I’m so sorry.”

“God, I’m so stupid.” You blame yourself, you jumped in too soon. Taken in by his charm and wanting to get Diego out of the neighborhood you were raising him in. You wrap your arms around yourself and close your eyes. “I don’t know if you want us with you. You never signed up for this. I should get a hotel. I can manage one for a few days until I find something.” You know you will have to find a place quickly and even if you have some savings, it won’t be a great house in a nice neighborhood.

Javier shakes his head at you, “don’t be ridiculous. You aren’t going into a hotel. You’re coming home with me.” He says with command, not wanting his son and the mother of his son in some shitty motel. “Go pack your things, baby. Get everything important and we will come back for the rest.” He says, glancing around the house.

You blow out a breath, secretly relieved that he is insisting that you stay with him. “Okay.” You agree. “I won’t be too long. We sold most of my things to move in here with Walter.” You admit. “Mostly just our clothes and Diego’s toys.”

“Go get what you need. Then we will wake Diego and go.” He says, anxious to get you out of this house and away from a cheating asshole. He watches you grab a duffel bag and he walks over to the window to keep a watch in case Walter decides to arrive home early.

You quickly pack several outfits for you and your toiletries before sneaking into Diego’s room to do the same. It’s honestly a little sad how much of this home isn’t yours, but you hadn’t really thought about it before. Walter had just encouraged you to get rid of your old, secondhand things and promised to give you the best of everything. Apparently it was the price of him being unfaithful. You bring the bags out, the folder with your important papers in your bags and grab a laundry basket for your son’s toys.

Javier takes the bags, carrying them out to your car and he watches as you wake Diego up, gathering him into your arms after he complains about being woken up. “You want to follow me in your car?” Javier asks softly even if Diego snuggles into your neck.

“Yes.” You should leave a note for Walter, but honestly, what would you say? You grab his blanket, the one he’s had since he was a baby and wrap it around him. “Come on, baby.” You murmur softly. “We are going to have a sleepover at Daddy’s tonight.”

Diego grins, “daddy’s?” He asks and you nod, carrying him to your car. “Yes, sleepover.” Diego wakes up at that as you strap him in and Javier carries the last of your things into the car to get ready to leave Walter’s. “You ready, baby?” He asks after you shut the car door.

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly. “I know this isn’t at all what you wanted to do with your Friday night.” You blow out a small sigh. “Let’s get out of here before that asshole gets home. I want him to fucking worry about what the hell is going on.”

Javier chuckles, loving that you are fighting back against this asshole. “Good. Let’s go, hermosa.” He says and makes sure you’re in your car before he makes his way over to his truck so he can show you the way to his place. He pulls away from Walter’s and watches in the mirror to make sure you’re behind him as he drives.

You follow Javi and find that he lives in a nice little apartment complex, parking next to him when he pulls in and Diego is already asleep in the back of the car again. “We should probably get him in first.” You murmur quickly. “Do you want to carry him?”

Javier nods, “absolutely. Take my keys.” He offers his keys and you take them. He opens the car door and carefully unbuckles Diego before he carries him to his front door, watching you unlock it and he’s glad he cleaned up earlier. He carries him through to the spare bedroom and you pull the covers back so you can lay the little boy down before you cover him back up. “You get settled in. I’ll get your things.” Javier says and makes his way back out to get your bags.

You sigh softly and sit down beside Diego, brushing his hair back from his forehead and watching him as he flops over and starts to hug his pillow. He looks like Javi when he sleeps, even more than he does just existing. It makes you smile, even with the turmoil currently upending your life.

Javier carries your things into the spare room and locks your car so you have all your bags. “You want something to eat?” He asks, “or drink?” You snort, “a drink for sure.” He chuckles and gets you a glass of whiskey from his bar. “Here you go, hermosa.” He says, holding the glass in his hand.

You take the glass, reminding yourself that you just found out that your boyfriend - ex boyfriend - was cheating on you. The urge to lunge at Javi and fuck him isn’t right. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to Diego when he realizes he’s not the type to play happy family. He wants to be a father to the son you made, not be with you. “Thanks.” You sigh and take a large drink of the whiskey. “Fuck,” you chuckle to yourself and huff. “This was a hell of a way to make my decision.”

Javier watches you take a large gulp and he wishes you weren’t in his home under these circumstances. “Come sit down, hermosa.” He says, heading over to his sofa. He pats the space next to him and looks down at his own drink. “I’m sorry Walter is a fucking prick. I hate cheaters.” He shakes his head, “my Pa would kill me if I ever cheated.”

You snort and have to appreciate the honesty. “But it’s hard to cheat when you aren’t in a relationship.” You remind him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe no one is relationship material. I didn’t love Walter, I know that now, but I was faithful. I tried to be a good girlfriend.”

Javier huffs, “don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong. He was a pig. Had you running around after him all the damn time. When I came over for dinner, he was…he was not good enough for you. You deserve more. You deserve to have an equal partner. A good relationship. Someone who loves you and cares for you and for Diego. He deserved better.” Javier says and you nod, taking another sip of your whiskey. “I’m sorry, hermosa.” He murmurs, glancing across the living room.

“It’s not your fault.” You are actually grateful that he let you know. You could have continued being oblivious to the facts. “I need to make a doctor’s appointment. Get tested because I know that fucker didn’t use a condom.”

Javier nods, “you are welcome to stay here as long as you want.” He wishes you would be here permanently but he can’t force his feelings on you when you just left Walter. There’s a knock on his door and Javier frowns, standing up. He makes his way over to it and checks the peephole, his jaw clenching when he sees Walter and he swings the door open and says “what the fuck are you doing here?”

You can tell by the tone that it’s Walter, although where you are sitting on the couch, he can’t see you. But you know that he might have seen your car in the parking lot. “I want to know why the fuck I come home and my house is empty, no note and I come over here to find my girlfriend’s car in the parking lot.” Walter spits, pushing into the apartment and snorting when he sees you on the couch. “What the fuck are you doing here? I introduced you to my co-worker. I didn’t expect you to fuck him.”

Javier shakes his head, “she called me to collect her for somewhere to stay because she found out you’re fucking Sally from the office.” Javier crosses his arms and you come to stand behind Javier. “You’re fucking kidding me?” Walter scoffs, “I took you and your little bastard into my house, took you out of that shithole apartment in the goddamn ghetto and you won’t allow me to have a little fun?” Walter growls and Javier hisses, “you need to get the fuck out.”

“No,” Walter shakes his head and steps towards you but Javi shuffles in front of him. “Stay out of this Peña.” The younger agent growls. “I know you’re thinking about getting some pussy from her, going for the easy lay, but the only reason I was fucking Sally was because she wasn’t satisfying me.” You choke out a huff and he smirks. “That’s right. You’re like a cold fucking fish in bed and I got tired of it.”

Javier grabs Walter’s collar, pulling him close. “You need to shut your fucking mouth.” He growls and Walter scoffs, “I’m not gonna put up with bad sex just to deal with a fucking bastard kid.” Walter chuckles and Javier pulls his fist back to punch Walter in the face. “That’s my goddamn kid you’re talking about.” He reveals as Walter stumbles back.

You gape in horror and arousal as Javi defends you and your son. If you didn’t know that you made the right decision to leave Walter, you know now. Calling your son a bastard has you seething. Walter shakes his head and sneers as he glances between you and Javi. “Colombia?” He remembers when you told him you had been to the country when you were younger, before you had Diego. “Fuck, Peña, you really did fuck anything, didn’t you?” He spits on the floor and shakes his head before tossing his hands up. “Fucking have her. You can deal with the little bastard and his worthless mother.”

The urge to punch him again is strong but Javier withholds it and grabs Walter by the shirt, pushing him towards the open door. “Get the fuck out. Now. Before I fucking kill you.” He warns and Walter scoffs but steps outside. He doesn’t argue as he leaves Javier’s apartment. Javier’s chest heaves after the door closes and he turns to look at you, “are you okay?”

Your chin trembles and you close your eyes to keep from crying. You can’t speak or you’re going to break down. Everything was nothing more than a shame. Some kind of sick game to Walter. Take you and your son out of a bad situation and make you the little housewife who would look the other way while he did whatever he wanted. It makes you sick.

Tears well in your eyes and Javier wastes no time in gathering you into his arms, his head resting on top of yours and he rubs your back, “it’s okay. I’m sorry. He was an asshole.” He murmurs, wanting you to know he’s sympathetic to your situation.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.” You murmur softly. “I was trying to- I wanted a better life for our son. I wasn’t- I didn’t see what Walter was really like.” You babble as you cling to Javi.

Javier rubs your back as you murmur until you shock him by tilting your head to press your lips to his. He pulls back immediately, knowing you aren’t in the emotional state to make a sound decision. “Baby, I - not like this.” He says, cupping your cheek, “not because that asshole was a prick to you.”

You pull away, horrified by the emotional reaction and how you’ve been rejected. “I- sure. Yeah.” You swallow harshly and feel like you’re going to throw up. “I get it. It’s- I should just go to bed.” You turn around to pick up the glass and rush towards the spare room you will share with Diego. Embarrassed and kicking yourself for thinking that you could forget about everything in Javi’s arms. He doesn’t want you, why would he? The only reason he is doing any of this is for Diego, not you.

Javier lets you go, watching you as you head into the spare room and he rubs his cheek, knowing he has hurt your feelings but he can’t take advantage, he can’t touch you or kiss you without knowing that you want him, love him as much as he loves you.

Retreating to the bedroom with Diego is a little bit like licking your wounds, but you use the bathroom right across the hall to wash your face and brush your teeth. Knowing that you will spend countless hours in bed staring at the ceiling. Wondering what is wrong with you. Javi had a chance to have you years ago and he let you go, why would he want a worse version of the one he had years ago? You sigh as you slip under the sheets and cut off the lamp. Your life is completely changed and you need to figure out a place to live quickly. To stand on your own two feet again.

Javier rubs his eyes as he prepares the coffee pot. He had been awake all night staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell he’s going to tell you he loves you without you thinking he’s taking advantage of you after you’ve left Walter. He sighs and walks over to the fridge, opening it, and he wishes he had eggs or anything for breakfast but his breakfast usually consists of a cigarette and a cup of coffee. He will take you and Diego to that diner down the street.

Your son is still sleeping, sprawled in the bed and completely content as you slip out of it. Hearing movement from the main area tells you that Javi is awake and you quickly dress. You don’t think that he wants you walking around his apartment in your tank top and shorts, and it helps add a layer of armor to your tattered emotions. You need to ask him if he can watch Diego while you look for a place to live.

Javier turns as you walk into the kitchen and he offers you a soft smile, “morning, hermosa. You want a coffee? I- I’d offer breakfast but I don’t have any food. I thought we could go to the diner down the street. Diego can get pancakes.” Javier smiles, feeling hopeful and happy to have his son under his roof.

“Thanks.” You need coffee, so you gratefully accept a cup. “I’m going to find a place as quickly as possible.” You promise as he opens a cabinet and gets out a mug. “Get out of your hair. I know you didn’t expect to have me and Diego here. Diego, sure, but not the baby momma.” You huff a sarcastic chuckle at your own attempt at a joke and sigh. “I was thinking of looking today? If you wouldn’t mind watching D?”

Javier frowns, “you - you don’t have to leave so soon. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, baby. I didn’t expect to have you here because you were with Walter but I want you here, you and Diego. You don’t have to look today. Let’s go have breakfast.” Javier insists, feeling anxious about you leaving so soon.

You sigh softly. “It’s not a good idea.” You admit quietly. “I’ve been….I had been thinking about how to move out of Walter’s anyway, because I realized that I didn’t feel like I should for him.” You look away from him, not wanting to see the rejection on his face. “I never actually got over the man who is the love of my life, and if I stay, you’ll just be annoyed.”

Javier frowns, wondering who you had met that was the love of your life. It wasn’t Walter and it’s clearly not him. “I- you must - I’m sorry. I hope you find that man and tell him how you feel. All I want is for you to be happy.” He promises, “even if that means you leaving here.”

You chuckle, the sound slightly harsh against your ears. “It’s my fault.” You admit quietly with a small shrug. As if it was nothing important. “We had fun, I knew it was only ever going to be fun because he told me that.” You glance back over at him. “He put me on a plane, and I left my heart behind, but he gave me the best gift imaginable.”

Javier stares at you in shock, putting two and two together, and he can’t help himself. He cups your cheeks and surges forward to press his lips to yours. His heart pounding in his chest as he kisses you to show you how he feels about you.

You close your eyes. The feeling of him kissing you makes you sigh happily. Years of love for him aching in your heart and you know that even if Walter hadn’t been a cheating bastard, you would have had to break up with him. Now, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

You kiss him back and his heart feels like it's about to burst. He sighs and pulls back, nudging his nose against yours as he takes the moment in. "I love you, hermosa." He murmurs, wanting you to know how he feels. "I did then. I was too scared to say it because you had to leave but seeing you again, it all came back to me. I love you." He declares again, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too.” You promise. “I just don’t want you to say that because of Diego.” You murmur. “I know I was hesitant in the beginning, but you love your son and he adores you.”

He shakes his head, caressing your cheeks, "not going to say it because of Diego. It's because of you. I love you, have for so many fucking years. I love you." He repeats, "I love Diego. I want you and our son. I want our family."

Closing your eyes, you lean into Javi and smile. Resting your forehead against his chest and huff out a laugh. “I suppose we should be grateful to Walter, for bringing us back together.”

Javier snorts, “yeah. Exactly. Asshole. I- I didn’t like him when I met him at work.” He confesses, rubbing his hands along your back after he lets go of your cheeks. “Let’s go get breakfast. I don’t want to make you stay here if you want to go slow but you are welcome to stay. I want you to stay.”

You huff and shrug. “I’m technically homeless right now.” You remind him. “I never want you to feel like I’m just using you though.”

Javier shakes his head, “never. Never think that. I just want you and our son with me. I want you. I want to protect you and our child.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, “I love you.” He still can’t believe you feel the same way.

“I love you too.” You groan, hating how you have been so stupid. You should have immediately left Walter after you realized you had feelings for Javi and you would have already had a screening to make sure you were safe. “Fuck, I need to make a doctor’s appointment.”

Javi chuckles quietly, hearing your frustrations and he nods. “That’s okay. We can wait.” He promises as you hear Diego cry out from the spare room, obviously scared because of waking up in a strange place. 

You rush back to the bedroom and quickly bundle him into your arms. “It’s okay, baby.” You reassure him. “We spent the night at daddy’s house, remember?” He had been tired when you moved him, so you don’t expect him to remember that. “Do you want to get dressed and go to breakfast?”

“Yeah. Mommy. I- we are in daddy’s house?” Diego asks, blinking rapidly and you nod, brushing his hair back, “yeah. We are.” Javier stands in the doorway, offering his son a smile. “Hey, mijo.” He greets the little boy who grins and scrambles out of bed to hug his father.

You smile as you watch Javi pick up Diego and hug him back just as fiercely. Over the last few weeks, the two of them have formed a bond that is unbreakable and you know that being here is the right choice. Walter didn’t love your son, apparently he didn’t even like him, but Javi loves Diego with everything he has. “I’ll get your clothes.” You tell him, standing up and moving over to your bags.

**** 

The three of you went for breakfast that day and Javier has never felt so complete. You stayed in bed with Diego for the last week since you wanted to get tested before anything happened between you and Javier was happy with that, he wanted to do this right so he went and got his own test done. He got the results today so he will tell you after Diego is in bed. He loves you so much and having you in his home this past week has made him realize that this was his purpose. Not chasing drug lords. His family is his purpose. Diego yawns as you watch TV with him and you smile, “time for bed, baby.” Diego doesn’t argue and you guide him into the spare room that is now his. “I’ll get him some water.” Javier says while you get Diego into bed and you are telling him goodnight when Javi returns with the glass of water and he sets it down on the nightstand. “Night, mijo.” Javier murmurs, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

You are so proud when Diego smiles sleepily at his father. “Night daddy.” He decided he liked ‘daddy’ over ‘papa’ and neither you or Javi have an issue with that. His night light is on and you smile as Javi tucks the cover up higher and walks back to the door so you can pull it closed. “He’s so happy to see you everyday.” You tell Javi as you both walk to the living room. “This was the right choice. You’ve both missed out on so much time together.”

Javier smiles, “I know. I want to make it up to you and him. I don’t want to miss another moment with our son.” He says and makes his way over to the sofa. The test results from his doctor on the coffee table. “I got my test results today. I’m clean. I don’t want to rush you but I wanted you to know I’m clean when you’re ready because I want to show you how I feel about you.”

You smirk at the paper as you pick it up. “I got a call from my doctor today.” You admit. “I’m clean. He should be emailing my results if you want to see.” You don’t want to wait anymore, but this needs to be a decision you make together. “And my birth control is expired, but I didn’t re-do it. I wanted to talk to you about the options first.” You don’t think Javi wants more kids, but your last birth control failed so you want him to be comfortable with what you choose.

Javier doesn’t need to see your results. He trusts you implicitly. “What do you want?” Javier asks you, reaching for your hands as you come to sit down beside him after he sets the paper down on the table. “I- I have condoms. I think I want us to enjoy being together before we make the decision to have another kid. And I’d like to buy a house. Create our space together. A room for Diego. Another room for a new baby.” He declares what he wants, “and I’d like to marry you before we have another.”

Your eyes widen when you hear him say he wants to marry you and have another baby. “I want you. You promise, pulling his hand up to kiss the back of it. “I’ve always wanted you. Even if you don’t want more kids or marriage or anything. I just want you. I love you. I love Diego. I want us to be a family.”

Javier grins, surging forward to press his lips to yours. He wants to show you how he feels. He drags you into his lap, his hands immediately finding your ass and he groans when you grind down onto him and he starts to harden beneath you. He’s jerked off to thoughts of you way too many times to count so he’s eager to touch you again.

“Javi.” You moan at the feel of his hands on your skin. You’ve dreamed of it for so long. Your fingers sink into his hair and all your inhibitions fade away. Walter’s comments about being a cold fish had hurt, but you’ve realized over the last few weeks that it was because you have never felt as free and comfortable with him as you do Javi.

Javier slides his tongue into your mouth and he playfully smacks your ass as you grind down onto him again. “Baby, baby.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw after a moment. “Let me take you to bed.”

“Fuck, I want that.” You whine softly. “Javi- I need you. I’ve been so lonely. And no one was ever as good as you.” You murmur quietly. You’ve only had two lovers since coming back from Colombia, you had put Diego first, but they’ve not been as good as he is.

He grabs the back of your thighs, grunting as he shifts to stand up and he chuckles as he stumbles and turns fast to drop you onto the sofa. “I’m getting too fucking old to pick you up.” He confesses, “come on baby.” He holds his hand out to you. “Walk to my room with me?”

You huff in amusement and take his hand. “Old man.” You tease as you squeeze his hand. “Maybe you can’t fuck me like I remember.”

Javier scoffs, “never said I couldn’t fuck.” He assures you, escorting you into his bedroom and once you’re inside, he grabs your waist to pull you close, his lips finding yours once more.

You lean into the kiss, giving over to the feelings that have been there from the very beginning and denied while you were with Walter. Then tempered by the need to make sure that you both were safe. Now you are able to take what you want and touch him again.

His hands find the bottom of your shirt, parting from your lips as he lifts it over your head and he tosses it to the floor as he slides his hands up to your back to unclip your bra. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck.

You hum and your hands drift down to the buttons on the shirt. “I’ve missed you so much.” You grind your hips down and whimper quietly when he throbs against you. “So fucking much.”

He groans, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms. He tosses it on the floor and his hands immediately cup your tits, squeezing them. “I’ve missed these.” He groans, bending down to take your nipple into his mouth.

“Javi!” You gasp his name and cup his head on your chest as he suckles harshly. “Fuck, oh god, I’ve always loved that mouth of yours on me. No one ever made me feel like you do.”

He loves hearing you say that and he bites on your nipple, soothing it with his tongue and he groans as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He loves the way you moan when he switches to the other breast and he squeezes your breast.

Walter’s comments about how boring you are had hit a nerve and you guess you had become boring. You don’t want Javi to think that as well and push him away to slide down to your knees and reach for his belt buckle.

Javier watches you, his eyelashes fluttering as he lets you touch him how you want. He’s anxious to see you naked and see how you’ve changed. His stomach isn’t as slim as it used to be. “Fuck, baby.” He murmurs, lifting his hips when you pull his belt out of his pants.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” You tease, popping the button of his jeans open and dragging the zipper down. It’s surprising to see him actually wearing underwear and you smirk as he drags his hips up again so you can pull everything down. Freeing his cock to slap against your stomach. “That cock.” You moan, mouth watering as you wrap your fingers around his girth. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about sucking you off again.” You admit before you duck your head down and take him into your mouth.

“Mierda, tu boca es mi cielo.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek and he closes his eyes for a second before he opens them to watch you take his cock deeper. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses, “I thought about this a shit ton after you left. Jerked off so many times thinking about you.” He confesses, lost in the pleasure.

Your cunt flutters around nothing, stretching your lips around him and loving the way that he pushes against the back of your throat. Taking him deep had been your utter obsession and you’ve not had a lot of practice since him but you want this. You’re getting wetter by the second and you let some of your spit slide down the shaft so you can twist your fingers around the base.

“Baby. I don’t - hermosa. I don’t want to cum yet.” He warns you, “been a while since I’ve done anything but jerk off and I want to be inside you when I cum.” He warns you, moaning when you take him deeper but you choke and he caresses your cheek. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You hum, smirking slightly as you remember him saying that over six years ago, in that little hotel room in Colombia. You pull off of him and press a kiss to the tip. “You want to be inside me, baby?” You coo, confident in his lust but you are a little worried that you might not live up to his memory.

He nods, reaching for you to pull you into his lap. He doesn’t want to hurt you so he shifts to lay you down in the bed, reaching for your leggings to pull them down your legs along with your panties. When you’re naked beneath him, he wastes no time sliding his hand along your thigh so he can push his fingers between your folds to rub your clit.

You whine, your body arching to his touch and gasping out his name. “Javi!” Your hand slides down his side and you try to touch him as much as you can. “I want- I thought you wanted to be inside me?”

“Not yet. Gotta stretch you out, baby.” He murmurs, sliding his hand back to push two thick digits inside of you. “So goddamn tight and wet.” He groans, leaning in to kiss along your neck while he starts to move his fingers inside of you.

You shudder in pleasure, shifting your hips to roll up to meet his hand. You had forgotten what it was like with Javi. He had always paid close attention to make sure you were ready for him. Your fingers grip his ass and you close your eyes. “Oh god. That feels so good.”

He loves the way you react as he pumps his fingers into your pussy, loving the way you squelch around his fingers. He wants you to cum for him before he fucks you. “Jesus, you’re so fucking gorgeous baby.” He murmurs, his cock aching for you.

His praises have always been so raw and earnest. It makes you clench down on his fingers and hiss his name in pleasure. The slick pressure of his fingers working you open is wonderful, quickly working you up until you are so close to cumming.

Javier loves it when you clamp down on his digits, soaking them and he scissors his fingers to make sure you are ready to take him. When you whine, he withdraws his fingers and looks at you, loving the hazy look in your eyes as you relax beneath him. “You ready for me baby?” He asks, caressing your side with wet fingers until he’s squeezing your tit.

“Yes.” You pant breathlessly. “I’ve been ready for six years. I’ve missed you, missed our connection.” It had always been more than sex, the easy relationship had been so freeing for you. The idealized goal that no matter what, Walter could have never lived up to. “Fuck me, Javi.”

He nods, leaning in to kiss you softly before he shifts to grab a condom from the nightstand. He shoves his pants and briefs down after he stands up, his cock throbbing as he looks at you on his bed. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, ripping the packet open so he can roll the condom down his cock. “You ready for me?” He asks, shifting to kneel on the bed and he runs his hands along the length of your legs.

“Yes.” You moan, spreading your legs wider in anticipation. You’re eager to feel him again, wanting the drag is his cock scraping your walls as you gasp his name. “You look so good hovering over me.” Your hand curls behind his neck and you urge him forward to kiss you. “I love you.”

“Te amo.” He murmurs, shifting onto his forearms and he reaches between you to grip his cock, shuffling closer so he can position his cock at your entrance, pushing into you with a groan and he turns his head to kiss you deeper.

It’s probably the best feeling in the entire world. You are stretched out by him, broken open as he pushes deep. Feeling so full that you moan into his mouth and lock your legs around his waist. Both of you panting at the overwhelming moment as he is buried to the hilt inside you.

He rests his forehead against yours, watching you for several moments, and he sighs, nudging your nose while he lets you adjust to him. “I’ve missed this so much. Thought about it way too many times. I fucking love you.” He declares breathlessly and grabs your hip to lift your thigh higher before he starts to rock inside of you.

It’s not nearly as frantic as the first time you had sex. There’s more of a hunger in the pace of his thrusts that has him pushing deeper and waiting before pulling his hips back. As if he hates leaving your body for even a few moments. You love it, head tilting back, you cry out when he hits that sweet spot, nails biting into his skin as he wrecks you for anyone else once again.

He loves the way you feel around him, beneath him, it’s more than he can handle but he inhales deeply and slows down a little more so he doesn’t finish too soon. He hasn’t had sex for a while and it’s you, the woman he loves beneath him. He rocks into you, swiveling his hips to grind deep, and he loves the way you moan his name.

You caress his back, urging him on with your own hips moving. Meeting his deep thrusts and as you kiss along his jaw. You’re complete. You and Javi together, your son safe and happy as he sleeps in his new room. It’s all you want and what you dreamed about when you were lonely during those hard years where you struggled. “Te amo.” You whimper, closing your eyes and sighing happily.

Javier needs you to cum, his hand snaking between you to rub your clit and he kisses along your neck, urging you to fall apart for him. “Cum for me baby.” He orders, biting down on your neck and he rubs your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Javi!” You whine his name, your body shutters at the simple, yet effective touch and you can feel your body start to tense. “I’m going cum baby, fuck!” It takes another half dozen swipes of his thumb and three more deep pumps of his cock before you are stiffening underneath him, crying out his name again as you come apart.

“Mierda.” He hisses as you clamp down on his cock. You’re so fucking beautiful and he loves it. Loves every day second of the way you squeeze his cock. He works you through it until you’re pushing his hand away and he groans as he rocks a little faster and harder into you. “I’m gonna cum.” He warns you, burying his face in your neck.

“Do it.” You whimper, wishing you had your birth control figured out so you could feel him inside you again. You understand, the risk is too much right now, but you always loved the feeling of him filling you up. “Cum for me baby.”

He groans as his thrusts stutter, pushing deep until he’s filling the condom with hot cum and your name is a groan on his lips. “Fuckkk.” He pants, closing his eyes as he lets the euphoria wash over him. His heart pounding in his chest while his cock twitches inside you.

You love the way the collapses on top of you. Pressed down into the bed by his body, you pant and start to slowly caress his back. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur quietly. “I never should have left Colombia.”

He shakes his head, "you made the right choice. It was a shit show down there. I always knew you'd be walking onto the plane. I would've never let you stay there." He murmurs, shifting to pull out of you and he grips the condom, moving fast to tie it off and toss it onto the nightstand so he can curl around you. "I loved you then and I love you now. That never changed. We are here and I plan to make up for every second we were apart." He smiles, kissing your shoulder.

“Diego will hold you to that.” You joke, curling into his embrace even more. “He loves having his daddy with him and you love him too. I can tell. For a man who never wanted a family, you are really good at it.”

Javier smiles, kissing your hair, "I didn't live a life that was appropriate for a family. I have stability now and I am ready for this, for you, for Diego. I am all in." He promises you and closes his eyes, "I meant what I said. I want to marry you. Have more kids."

“I want that too.” You murmur softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience Diego as a baby.” You apologize, shifting to turn to face him. Reaching up, you caress his cheek. “I want you with me for the rest of our lives, Javi. I love you. I loved you in Colombia and that’s never gone away.”

Javier hums, reaching for your hand to kiss the back of it, “we have the rest of our lives.” He murmurs and you kiss his cheek. He is so happy right now. He has you and Diego and he will take you both to meet his Pa and get his mother’s engagement ring to ask you to marry him. He’s ready to enjoy the rest of his life with his family. All thanks to meeting you in that bar and the strip of photos still in his wallet from the photo booth.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Our Baby.

Best Friends!Wandanat x little!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda are best friends who have always only been that, but when you come crashing into their lives and take on the roles of caregiver will their relationship deepen?

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Age Regression, mentions of stress and being overwhelmed, caregiver/regressor, fluffy, comfort

Authors note: I saw a post about two best friends being caregivers for someone and this happened sooooo let me know if you want more

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

Wanda and Natasha had been inseparable for years. The two women were practically extensions of one another, sharing a bond so deep that they didn’t think anyone could ever come between them. That is, until you came crashing into their lives—quite literally.

It had been a particularly hectic day in the city. You were rushing down the sidewalk, juggling your tote bag and a stack of books, when you collided headlong into two very sturdy figures. Hot liquid splashed everywhere, the unmistakable aroma of coffee filling the air.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, immediately dropping your things to grab napkins from your bag. You looked up, your wide, apologetic eyes meeting two startled, but intrigued, gazes.

Wanda smiled gently, already sensing the warmth and innocence radiating from you. “It’s alright. No harm done.”

Natasha, on the other hand, smirked, brushing coffee from her leather jacket. “You’ve got quite the impact for someone so small.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you continued to stammer apologies, your hands nervously twisting the napkins. Something about their presence was overwhelming—but not in a bad way. It felt… safe, somehow.

That moment sparked the beginning of something neither Wanda nor Natasha had anticipated. They’d initially invited you out to lunch to reassure you that everything was fine. But one lunch turned into several, and soon, the two heroines found themselves eagerly waiting for your next meeting. You were sweet, playful, and endearing in a way they couldn’t quite describe.

Wanda and Natasha hadn’t immediately noticed your little tendencies. You were so good at masking that even they, two of the most observant people you’d ever met, didn’t put it all together right away. But over time, the signs began to show.

It started with little things. Like the time you fell asleep on their couch during a movie night. Wanda, ever the caregiver, went to drape a blanket over you and froze mid-motion. Your thumb was tucked in your mouth, and you were suckling softly in your sleep. She didn’t say anything at first, but the sight stuck with her.

Then there was your choice of drinkware. You always seemed to have colorful tumblers with cartoon characters on them. Wanda thought they were cute, but Natasha couldn’t help but tease you about your “sippy cups.” You only giggled nervously, brushing it off as something you just liked.

The biggest hint came the first time they asked you to spend the night unexpectedly. They could see the hesitation in your face before you shyly asked, “Can I go home to grab something first? I, um, I need my stuffie to sleep.” You didn’t elaborate, but they saw the soft blush dusting your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. Natasha, being Natasha, simply smirked and said, “Of course, detka. Everyone needs their comforts.”

But the moment of clarity came on a particularly stressful day for you. It had been weeks of mounting pressure from college—assignments, deadlines, and social obligations piling up until you couldn’t take it anymore. You showed up at their apartment in tears, unable to mask how overwhelmed you felt.

Wanda had just opened the door when you pushed past her, pacing in the living room. “Ish no fair!” you cried, your voice higher-pitched and trembling. “They ep ivin me too mush stuffs, an I an’t do it! I an’t—I no wanna!”

Wanda blinked, stunned for a moment before her motherly instincts kicked in. “Sweetheart,” she cooed, stepping closer. “Baby, hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here.” She gently guided you to the couch, her soothing voice and soft hands calming you just enough to sit down.

But as you tried to explain what was wrong, the words tumbled out in a way that surprised even you. “Ish so dumb! olege is too hard, an I just wan loler or wash toons. I no wan do big peoples stuff!” you wailed, curling up with your stuffie tightly clutched to your chest.

Natasha, who had been watching quietly, crouched in front of you. Her sharp, calculating gaze softened as she reached out to hold your hand. “Woah, those are some really big things to deal with, little one,” she said gently, her tone surprisingly tender. “Way too big for you to be thinking about, don’t you think?”

Wanda nodded, sitting beside you and rubbing your back. “Exactly. Mama and Daddy are here to take care of the big stuff, okay? You just focus on being our sweet little girl.”

You sniffled, looking up at them with wide, watery eyes. “Really?”

Natasha smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Really. Let us handle it. You just stay small for us, alright?”

That was the day things changed. They didn’t just accept your regression—they embraced it wholeheartedly. From that point on, they made sure you always had a safe space to be yourself, no matter how little you felt. 

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

It had been a few months since Wanda and Natasha had fully embraced being your caregivers. Their small apartment had worked for a while, but it was quickly becoming clear that it wasn’t enough space for the three of you—especially when you regressed and wanted to run around or build blanket forts. Wanda had been the first to bring up the idea of moving, and Natasha, took the lead in making it happen.

Of course, they didn’t tell you right away. They wanted it to be a surprise.

One sunny afternoon, Wanda and Natasha took you on what they called a "special outing." You didn’t think much of it at first, happily clutching your favorite stuffed animal as they guided you out to the car. But as the drive continued and the scenery shifted from busy city streets to quiet suburban neighborhoods, your curiosity piqued.

“Where are we going?” you asked, bouncing slightly in your seat.

Wanda smiled from the passenger seat, turning to look at you. “You’ll see soon, baby. Be patient.”

Natasha smirked from the driver’s seat. “I think you’ll like it, detka. It’s a big surprise.”

When the car finally pulled into the driveway of a charming two-story house, your jaw dropped. The exterior was painted a deep, calming blue with crisp white accents, and there was a small front porch with enough room for a swing. The yard was spacious and inviting, with plenty of room for you to play.

Wanda stepped out first, holding her hand out for you. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go take a look.” You held her hand, your stuffie in the other.

As soon as you stepped inside, you were in awe. The interior was just as beautiful as the outside, with a clean palette of whites and deep blues that felt cozy yet elegant. Your little heart couldn’t contain the excitement as you clutched your stuffed animal tighter, your eyes darting around the open spaces and tall ceilings.

“This is ours?” you squeaked, looking up at Wanda with wide eyes.

“Not yet,” she said with a soft laugh. “We’re still deciding, but we wanted you to see it first.”

Natasha smirked, already following the realtor as she walked through the house, discussing what changes could be made before moving in. “Go on, malen'kaya,” Natasha encouraged, nodding toward the hallway. “Explore a little.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You darted off, your stuffie bouncing in your arms as you ran down the halls, peeking into each room. There was a large kitchen with an island perfect for baking cookies with Wanda, a spacious living room where Natasha would undoubtedly set up a big TV for movie nights, and upstairs, you found a bedroom that you just knew would be yours.

The house was perfect.

When you ran back to find Wanda and Natasha, they were standing in the living room with the realtor, discussing changes they’d like—adding a fence to the backyard for privacy, painting one of the upstairs bedrooms in softer, more playful tones, and installing blackout curtains in the master bedroom.

Natasha looked over as you skidded to a stop, a bright smile on her face. “What do you think, little one? Do you like it?”

“I love it!” you exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Wanda knelt down and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Good. Because this is going to be your new home, sweetheart. Somewhere safe and quiet, just for us.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you threw your arms around her, your stuffie squished between you. Natasha joined the hug, wrapping her strong arms around the both of you.

“You two are the best,” you whispered, your voice muffled by Wanda’s shoulder.

“And you’re worth it, detka,” Natasha said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “This is just the beginning.”

[love-quinn]

— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away. 

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment. 

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now. 

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state. 

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later. 

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him. 

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride. 

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest. 

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly. 

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible. 

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked. 

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him. 

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point. 

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had. 

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him. 

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face. 

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone. 

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered. 

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought. 

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations. 

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life. 

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it. 

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike. 

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here. 

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love. 

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love. 

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth. 

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :( 

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are. 

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous. 

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all. 

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend. 

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it. 

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders. 

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together).  The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you. 

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you. 

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain. 

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her. 

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment. 

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore. 

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule. 

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do. 

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York. 

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you. 

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails. 

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle.  “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while. 

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder. 

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck. 

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed. 

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny. 

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine. 

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no. 

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike. 

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers. 

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that. 

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend. 

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together. 

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike. 

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him. 

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood. 

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out. 

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted. 

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend. 

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend. 

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it. 

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit. 

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner. 

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash. 

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask. 

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing. 

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him. 

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly. 

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse. 

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves. 

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home. 

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him. 

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself. 

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him. 

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of. 

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face. 

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back. 

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too. 

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend. 

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet. 

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time. 

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple. 

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.” 

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that. 

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her. 

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back. 

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York. 

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though. 

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him. 

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy. 

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to. 

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet. 

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it. 

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period. 

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots. 

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him. 

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not. 

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner. 

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you. 

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are. 

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there. 

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again. 

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne. 

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in. 

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck. 

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with. 

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up. 

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in. 

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

[oatmealthighs]

plug!eren x blackfem!reader

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 contents: nsfw 18+, MDNI. reader indulges 🍃, eren is overprotective, public sex, maybe semi public? idk. daddy/mama usage. might be some slightly toxic dynamics. but nothing too serious. rushed ending cus i suck at endings 💔 a sequel full of fluff will be coming soon out of this.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 author's note: omg i haven't posted in like months. but anyways what would i be without dropping the token plug!eren drabble. nothing too crazy, just some bathroom sex. also there are instances where there are texts but i got too lazy and didn't bother making texts out of them mwahahahaaa sorry in advance. this is barely proofread and not my best so if there are mistakes i am sorry. requests are open! also look out for a tengen x reader x wives fic coming really soon. like this week soon

the feeling of your phone buzzing in the back pocket of your true religion jeans whisked your attention away from the pearled blunt you had pinched between your fingers.

your glossy lips curled into a little smirk, your acrylics clicking at the keyboard of your screen.

you've been pushing eren's cute lil buttons all night. honestly all day... but you didn't feel bad for making him sweat. he's been trying you as of late.

you and eren were supposed to be spending some quality time together last night, and he was specifically supposed to be over your place by no later than 8:00. you had the whole shabang... bath and body works candle burning out, led lights on and set to the color purple, some of his favorite snacks and some dinner and dessert you had wrapped up for him that you had made earlier. you were planning on watching a show with him, giving him a scalp massage while he played his playstation that he always brought whenever he came over, and give him the best head he's ever received that night before riding him into the sunset, but all those plans went soiled. 8:00 came, and on the dot he had sent a text message about him having to go make a few more drop offs, then he'd come to you. 8 turned to 9, then 10:30, then 1... fucking... AM.

was it fucked up you didn't answer the door when he came knocking finally? kinda, but the guilt didn't last long when you thought about how he practically stood you up.

eren was a popular plug on the university you attended. you knew friday is usually the day that people were trying to cop, given it was majority people's payday and the weekend, but you were hoping that he would close up shop early just this one time for you. his clientele would live-- there were plugs by the dozen on campus. but eren knew wasn't none of them fucking with his shit. you weren't sure what other outcome you were expecting. he never turned his head away from possible income.

eren already knew he fucked up, but he knew ultimately in the end it was going to be worth it. the extra money was going to go into play towards his proposal to ask you to be his girlfriend, and no amount of your anger was going to get that out of him. he was prepared to keep his mouth shut, throw away the key, and take his lashings like a man. so when he was met with radio silence, he was flabbergasted.

when he pulled up to your crib and didn't get an answer from him knocking on your door and calling your phone, he figured you fell asleep and resulted in retreating to his abode. the next morning, when he woke up to find that you didn't respond to his apology texts from last night, it made him sit up in his bed and squint at his phone with crust-ridden eyes.

no response? it was so unlike you. usually you would respond with a barrage of text messages stating your feelings, or at the very least he'd get a passive-aggressive dry text from you. but to be met with nothing at all made his gut twist in a disgustingly vexing way.

he rubs at his temples, sending you a "good morning baby" text before opening the safari app and going to the local floral shop's delivery site.

later that afternoon, eren's sitting in his blacked out durango when he receives email confirmation that the flowers have been delivered, the low hum of the strong engine the only thing somewhat soothing his frazzled nerves. he made sure to get your favorite, and tried to ask them to incorporate your favorite color as much as possible.

he checks your location as he hits his blunt, releasing the smoke from his mouth and inhaling it through his nostrils. he already knows your home, having your schedule downpack. and you were. so why didn't you say anything about the flowers? did you not like them? he sends you a text, saying, "i sent you some flowers," staring at the screen and awaiting your response.

yess, you know he sent you flowers, and you loved them. you had gasped when you found them on your porch, bright and vibrant in color and smelling so freshly sweet. you had already cut the stems and put them in some warm water in a lovely vase. you almost wanted to text eren, to tell him how much you loved them and thank you, but the strong annoyance you had from last night still lingered. with a twist of your lips you disregarded your phone on the kitchen counter, humming a tune as you moved about the kitchen to prepare you a nice lunch.

eren releases a defeated sigh as he puts his jay out, not even in the mood to smoke anymore.

eren releases a defeated sigh as he puts his jay out, not even in the mood to smoke anymore. in defeat, he clicks off his phone, shifting his gear to drive to make more plays.

he spends the rest of the day pondering ways to possibly pull a conversation from you, and a lightbulb flickers in his head when he recalls you saying you were running low on weed. eren always gives you gas free of charge, one of the special privileges that comes with being his favorite girl. he opens his phone to text you again.

doechii's expressive voice flows through your speaker at a volume level most would call excessive. but you didn't care. anything to drown out the annoying pensive thoughts of eren's sexy little face. "i ain't a killer but don't push me, don't wanna have to turn a nigga guts into SOUP BEANS!" no, really, doechii.

your phone vibrates on your vanity as you rummage through your closet for a cute outfit to wear tonight, striding over to your phone with nimbleness. you figured it'd be hitch, since you and her were accompanying each other to the kickback tonight and she was asking either what time you wanted to go or what you were wearing. your hypothesis was proven incorrect when you saw eren's name on your notification wall instead. just him asking if you wanted to him to drop off some more weed for you.

your heart twinged ever-so-softly at the thought of you ignoring your baby. you missed him. it was embarrassing to say this was the longest you went without talking to him. but how would he know you were serious if you just gave in now?

you wanted to respond and tell him you were cool. hitch was bringing the weed tonight. but you refrained, if anything that would get him all the more riled up. eren doesn't like you smoking others weed, his reasoning being he doesn't "trust their product." he was so sexy when he was protective. you remember when you told him you copped from someone else when he had to go off campus for a little bit to see his family, and he spent a half hour inspecting it on the scale with his phone flashlight.

eren let out an irritated growl after constantly checking his phone for 10 minutes, still no reply from you in his notifications. he wanted to tell you you were dragging it, but he knew you weren't. you had every right to be pissed with him given he had promised you this quality time and swore he would make time for you. you were never a stickler for too much attention, but with eren always on the run it was easy for him to neglect you. he's been getting better at it though. until last night.

connie's name flashes across eren's phone screen. he slides the answer button right and lets his car sync the call to the radio. "yo."

"what's good, man. you coming to the kickback tonight? it's gonna be at jean's place." eren rolls his neck until he hears it pop. he knows you'll be there.

"yeah, i might come. today's been slow. don't got nothin' else to do."

"damn, i know that voice. what'd you do this time?"

eren weakly chuckles at connie's intuition. "what can i say, business was booming like crazy last night. we were supposed to hang out but my phone just kept ringing."

connie let out a long sigh over the line. "typical eren, never knows when to close shop." he pauses. "you know you're the asshole, right?"

"yeah," eren groans, shutting his car off and putting his phone on speaker. "i know. i plan on making it up to her."

"yeah, how? surely not with some weed and dick." connie snorts. "[name]'s a nice girl, you plan on locking it down with her anytime soon? i see the way floch be looking at her."

"he wouldn't dare," eren denies, the simple thought of it just making his eye twitch. while you and eren weren't official, basically everyone in the friend group and the vicinity knew y'all were on each other bad. but some assholes just didn't respect boundaries. he noticed floch's gaze would linger on you a little longer than he deemed appropriate. how they would trail your body. he noticed the way his cheeks would blush when you would speak to him in passing or make small talk.

"i dunno, man," connie instigated, smugness in his voice. "but, bring a quarter with you. it's on me, i'm gonna zelle you."

"just send me $50." eren and connie exchange a few last words before they end the call, leaving eren in silence as he stares at the gray wall of the parking garage he was parked in. he didn't know what he was gonna do about you.

eren always tended to look the sexiest when you were mad at him, or he was upset with you. he always would wear his hair down, taupe tresses brushing his broad shoulders. he'd always wear a black tee and some baggy sweatpants that always had you imagining what it was he had underneath. it was nothing you haven't seen, but it was always a pleasant surprise.

you felt your defiance wavering when he and all is glory walked in to jean's house, high as fuck. you swore you could smell his ysl cologne from across the room.

"you okay girl?" sasha questions, her eyebrows pinching in concern as she leans into your eyesight. you blink your mascara coated lashes, giving her a smile.

"yeah, my man just walked in. he always looks so good when im pissed at him."

"it's a trap. don't fall for it." hitch scoffs, her hazel eyes trained on the blunt she was busy rolling. her thighs were squeezed together to keep her carebear rolling tray in place. "don't even look his direction."

"i forget hitch is such a hard-ass. how does marlo manage," ymir jokes. historia chuckles, her head resting against her girlfriend's broad shoulder.

as their conversation goes on, your eyes can't help but find eren again through the decent amount of people crowding the bottom floor of the house, watching him interact with connie and hand him a bag of what you assumed to be cannabis. his turquoise eyes cut across the room, and you know he's looking for you. you look away before any eye contact can happen. when you feel eyes burn into your skin, you know he spots you.

the night involves you acting as if he doesn't exist, keeping your back turned and acting like you're too busy to acknowledge your phone notifications. when you finally light the blunt hitch pearled, you know eren texts you asking where did you get that. you chuckle to yourself as your thoughts were confirmed when you snuck a peek at your phone.

eren feels anger welling in his body as he watches you from a safe distance, lounging against the wall and his eyes never leaving you. you knew what you were doing at this point. wearing them jeans that made your ass sit so perfect and a crop top that teased at your skin and your belly button piercing. your hair was in curls, and your glittery lip gloss shone in the low light of the room. he knew you probably had on his favorite perfume too. that vanilla one he loved so much.

"just go talk to her dude," connie yells over the aggravatingly loud jersey mixed song that was booming through the surround sound, his words slightly slurred from the drink he's been sipping on. eren furrows his thick brows as he hits his spliff, watching the tip burn bright orange as he shuts his eyes for a moment. "and you better hurry. i think tonight's the night floch makes his move."

"connie, shut the fuck up." eren's tone is firm and warning as he feels the vein in his neck rising to the surface of his skin. he finally opens his eyes, glancing at you, and what he sees makes his stomach cave and everything around him turn red.

floch, with his ugly fucking haircut and that ugly dangling earring had the audacity to be all up in your glory, smiling sheepishly as you were saying something to him. he doesn't know what you were saying, your back was to him, but the way your head swayed and your hands were moving he knew you were talking.

honestly eren was never this defensive of someone before. maybe it was your constant insistence of you being fine on your own. "boy, i'm grown," you'd say to him. it only made his instinct to protect you grow stronger.

he knew well you could handle your own. but how fucking dare him?! it's like floch was begging for an ass whooping!

he wasn't actually. he was begging for you to send him the homework answers for your chem class. "not gonna lie floch, i haven't even looked at that shit yet," you admit with a shrug, your lips pulled into a friendly smile.

floch groans as he rubs the back of his neck. "i'm for sure gonna flunk that class. i might just say fuck it and retake it next year."

"not if i can help it," you interject, furrowing your brows. "we pass together, we fail together. i'll send you the answers on groupme tomorrow when i finish."

floch pumps his fist. "man, you're the fucking best, [name]. if you weren't in there i dunno what i'd–"

a hard body brushes past floch, harshly and intentionally slamming his shoulder into theirs. "hey, man, what the–"

you smell eren before you see him, wearing that delicious cologne that's stained into your bed sheets. you look up to find him looking down at you, fire in his sea green irises as he glares at you.

you feign oblivion, lifting an eyebrow at him. "hey," you speak first.

"why haven't you been responding to my texts." his voice is curt, but still soft nonetheless. you feel your girls looking at you intently to see how you were going to play this.

"been busy, sorry," you respond, not sounding much too apologetic.

eren cuts his eyes to the right to see floch still standing there, much to his distaste, a look of confusion plastered across his face. "you need somethin'?" he asks him, a foreign, cutting edge to his question.

"i was just trying to ask her about the homework, dude," floch bites back defensively, taking the smallest step back.

your dainty hand trails up to grab eren's forearm, your soft, irreplicable touch quelling his aggravation. you swear you could feel his taut muscles relax at your contact, knowing he was probably deprived. so dramatic.

"eren, calm down," you reprimand him gently, but sternly. you gave floch an apologetic glance. "sorry, floch. see you tuesday."

floch nods, his auburn eyebrows creased in the middle as he glanced at eren, then back at you, before departing. in tandem, you let go.

"what's your problem," you seethe, but not loud enough for your friends to hear. "you damn near made that boy shit his pants."

eren sucked his teeth, closing his eyes to roll them as he clenched his jaw. "why are you ignoring me, [name]," his low voice is strained, constricting his internal anger to the best of his ability. his high was blown, the music was too loud, you smelled and looked too good, it was all too much.

you place a hand on your hip, your beautiful eyes passive, but holding a glint of hurt behind them. "just collect your breath. i don't wanna talk about it here... even though you know what the problem is-"

"yo, [name], wanna hit this again?" saved by the bell.

"yes, pleaseeee," you drawl. you turn on heels, but not before telling eren, "i'll see you later."

shortly after eren departed to god knows where, and you got high as hell, was when you received that text. and you don't know if it was the marijuana making you fuzzy and horny, the growing urge to just be in his arms, or what, but you complied.

as you brushed and weaved between drunken bodies, you couldn't subdue the underlying feelings of anxiety that swelled in your chest. you didn't know what to expect. but you knew one thing for certain, you were gonna give eren a piece of your mind tonight.

when you finally made it to the bathroom door, you released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding, shaking yourself of your jittery nerves before your knuckles rapped against the hollow wood of the door.

it wasn't even three seconds before eren cracked the door, and before you could say anything, you were yanked in.

you squealed at his presentation of strength, the butterflies in your stomach downward-diving straight to your core. "well, damn! what happened to hello? how are you?!"

eren ignored your playful reprimanding, instead using the time to soak and drink you in. you were so pretty, fussing at him like that. the way your glossy lips twisted as you spoke on about nothing relevant, the way your hair swayed with every movement you made. every muscle in his body urged him to kiss you, breathe you in.

"whatcha call me in here for? it's hot as hell..." you murmured, leaning against the cool wood of the door in attempt to catch your breath.

eren was quiet as he loomed on the opposite side of the bathroom, half-lidded cyan eyes carefully trained on you. you lifted your eyebrows with a shake of your head, prompting him to go on, your arms crossed against your glittery chest. "you're so pretty," he hums, a side smirk playing at his lips, showing his pretty white teeth that you wish you were nibbling on you just about right now.

"can't smooth-talk your way out of everything, eren," you resisted with a strain in your voice, turning to face the mirror to the left of you instead of him. "i'm still upset with you."

"rightfully so," eren agrees, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, backing you against the cool oak wood of the bathroom door. "'m sorry baby, you know i love spending time with you more than anything in this world–"

"i beg to differ," you interject. eren rests his eyes as he clenches his jaw, withholding a sigh. "all i asked was that you put me first for one night... and you couldn't even do that."

"baby, listen to me." eren's large hand engulfs yours, the warmth of his palm spreading through your limbs like wildfire. "words can't even begin to express how deeply sorry i am. i know i fucked up... i know. but, i had reason i've been wanting to work a lot more often as of late." he pauses. he couldn’t possibly pop his question in a bathroom at connie’s party. you’d hate him ten times more than you already do in his moment.

you cock your brow, looking up at him through those pretty lashes that framed your eyes so well. “i’m waiting, eren.”

he sucks in a deep breath, making the sound he usually makes when he’s about to say something you don’t like. “just… trust me. okay?”

that was enough to make you head for the door, reaching out to twist at the knob before he grabs at your wrist. “man, move,” you mutter, over the bullshit. you were over it all: the lies, the empty promises. and you were especially over being crowded in this bathroom with him, because you felt your resolve faltering with each passing second you remained in his presence. you felt like an animal resisting every primal instinct and bone in your body, begging you to let him touch you. it was borderline pathetic.

“you aren’t going anywhere, [name].” he meant that in more ways than one.

“how much you wanna bet?”

the frustrated glint in his aquamarine eyes and the knit in his thick brows made your knees give.

“ummm, have you guys seen [name]?” hitch asks after a good thirty minutes fly by since you first departed the group, skating her eyes around the living room with a quizzical glance.

ymir snorts. “you already know she ran off with that boy,” she exhaled the smoke she was holding in her chest out towards the ceiling, running her long fingers through historia’s golden locks. “wouldn’t be surprised if she already dipped off with him.”

not quite. instead, you and eren were still in the bathroom, your ass on the bathroom counter and your head resting against the mirror as eren was crouched before you, low to the ground as he slurped at your pussy like a man starved. he looks up at you from his place between your thighs, tongue flicking at your swollen clit before taking it into his mouth to suck on it whole. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your eyes rolling behind your closed eyelids as eren gazed up at you with hearts in his eyes. you were always so fucking beautiful, whether you were mad at him, grinning at him, or cumming for him.

“fuuuck, i think i’m bouta cum again,” you whimper, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm brewed at a slow boil within the pit of your stomach. you already left your mark all over the marble sink, leaking down your thighs, and all over eren’s chin. but when was that ever enough to satiate his thirst?

“do it, baby,” he breathes, french kissing your pussy before speaking again. “you know i want it.”

“get it outta me, then,” you retort, a sexy simper pulling at your lips, and the darkened glare he have you through heavy eyelids made your pussy squeeze.

his big hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging in your skin as he begins rocking your lower body up and down, sliding his long tongue from between your pussy lips to your ass with each bounce. you let out a squeal of surprise, your pink toes wriggling as he just kept doing it, over and over and over. you hear him, moaning with each stride, reveling in the saccharine taste of you. his dick felt like it was bouta break, restricted to his boxer briefs, and he felt the sticky precum leaking on his thigh. he needed to fuck you. but he always prioritizes you over all.

your orgasm bust inside you, your pussy profusely contracting as your juices coated eren’s face. “fuck, yeah,” he encourages in you, his voice in a low growl of satisfaction. he didn’t stop, cleaning you up and slurping your pussy clean. you flinched as he left a final loving kiss to your aching clit, and he chuckled as he stood to his feet. your eyes couldn’t help but look at his crotch, you couldn’t help but smirk at the prominent tent of his stiff dick being held hostage in his sweatpants. “turn around for me. i want you to see me fuck you.”

you slid off off the counter, ringing your panties off the ankle they were hanging on to, before turning around, leaning against the sink and arching your back. you looked back at him, gazing at him tauntingly. “whatchu waiting for?”

“cool it,” he warns you playfully, his thumbs hooking into the bands of his sweats. "don't bite off more than you can chew."

"i've had mouthfuls of you. i promise you i can chew."

"look at the mirror."

you turn back forward, looking at eren in the reflection. he was so pretty, his hickory locks tousled around yet still framing his face beautifully. his bottom lip was pinched between his teeth as he shifts his pants to fall below his knees before rolling his briefs down his thighs. he lifts his tshirt up, showcasing his tan abs that had a slight shimmer of perspiration as he readies the head of his dick at your opening. then, with steady hips and a deep breath, he pushes forward.

him putting his cock inside of you was such an irreplicable feeling, you don't know how to explain it. to feel his girth stretching you, giving you a burn that was so deliciously good, always made your head spin. you whine, pushing your ass back just a little bit to help eren bottom out in you. he cusses under his breath, grounding himself with a hand on your ass cheek as his pelvis met flush against your tailbone.

you felt his dick twitching inside you, and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan as you let your head drop against your arms folded over the sink. eren grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he tries to regain his composure. you were so warm, so wet, so greedy judging by the way your pussy squeezed him like a vice. any sudden movements and he was bound to nut in you.

suddenly, the bathroom knob jiggles, followed by pounding against the door. you jump, your muscles stiffening as fear tickled at your tummy. eren hisses, his nails digging crescents in your cocoa buttered skin at you tightening around him. "uh, anyone in there? i gotta piss!" connie. what are the fucking odds.

"uhh, give me a few minutes!" you yell, your voice uncharacteristically shrill from your newborn anxiety as you looked back at eren with wide eyes. "maybe we should-"

you were shut up with one, heavy stroke, eren almost completely unsheathing himself before bottoming out in you again. your words died in your throat, replaced with a gasp.

"uh, okay...?" the end of connie's okay drawls up in the end. "wait, [name], is that you? are you straight in there?"

"yes... fuck, yes!" you sputter out, squeezing your eyes shut as eren picks up his speed a bit, but not his power. he was gonna do you a favor and not fuck you too dumb in here. he wants you to at least have some chance of walking out of here on your own two feet. "i'm fine!"

"okay, okay! i'll just go upstairs." after a few seconds, you hear connie shifting away, but that genuinely wasn't your main focus. eren was rolling his hips, making sure the tip of his dick hit that sweet spot that made you sing with every. single. thrust. your head was down, resting against the counter, your eyes stuck in the back of your head as you took every inch of him with grace. your moans were mere whimpers, trying your best to muffle them with the inside of your arm.

eren sees his phone vibrate from his place on the hanging shelf beside him, and he smirks to himself when he takes a brisk glance at the banner:

convict: [name]'s in the bathroom. she didnt sound too great so u should prolly check in on her

eren groans under his breath, leaning forward to mold his abdomen against the curvature of your spine. that motion was enough to make him feel like he was touching your stomach. "what are you doing?" he purrs, flicking his tongue out to lick at the shell of your ear. he feels you shiver, your shoulders shuddering as a sex-soaked cry escaped your lips. "i said i want you to watch me fuck you. why are you hiding that pretty face?"

you had nothing but a pathetic moan to offer as a response, and he scoffed to himself, a smirk curling at his lips. he stands straight, both of his hands settling at your lovehandles as he begins sending you to poundtown. the impact of his hips against your ass was loud, and there was no doubt that if anyone came to the door they would hear you getting the shit fucked out of you. "be a big girl, mama," he muses. his hand reaches for your curls, gripping your tresses to pull your head up and back. you squealed, your eyebrows pinching at the burning sensation. you mustered up the courage to flutter your eyes open to be met with the godly sight of your man, looking down at you throw those thick eyelashes, his cheeks tinting pink from the overwhelming heat of the small, crammed space. " watch me while i fuck you."

his wish is your command as you watch him through teary eyes, licking your lips at the feeling his hand snaking up the arch of your spine to come around and grip your chin. the pads of his fingers rest on your cheeks, slightly squeezing as he snaps his hips against you from behind. his eyes are boring into you, clouded by lust with a hint of adoration, watching the way your face contorts into pleasure-ridden expressions. he's watching the way your plump lips wrap around his thumb, the way your titties bounce with every deep thrust and threaten to spill out your victoria's secret bra and tank top, the way that fat ass jiggled and made waves every time he drilled his dick in you. you were perfect. from your pretty face, to your loving heart that had a padlock with his initial on it, to your gushing pussy that would squirt all over him just for him.

"this pussy is so perfect," eren hums, looking down in awe as he watches the way you cream and squeeze on his shaft. "it's like it was made just for me. was it, baby? this is just my pussy, right?"

"you know that, daddy," you slur, feeling your orgasm coming to a head. you were so ready to release, your pussy just aching to cum. you hear him give a chuckle, his hips speeding up in tandem.

"i think you're ready to cum now. i want it all on my dick. can you do that for me, princess? or is that too much to ask of you?"

but before you could even muster a response, it was as if a tsunami hit your pussy, because the way your juices sprayed against his upper thighs was a damn shame. eren lets out a moan of appreciation, biting his lip as he lets your orgasm ride out and coat his dick. he gives your ass a few appreciative cracks, making you tighten around his cock until you managed to collect your breath.

eren slowly begins unsheathing himself from you, his dick still solid as concrete but he honestly wasn't concerned with getting his own nut off right now. after all, this wasn't going to be the last time he was to be in you tonight. as soon as he takes you back to his place, he was gonna fuck you through the mattress and the bedframe.

...

"girl, there you are! you've been missing for like, an hour!" you bumped into hitch on your way towards the front door, eren being your guide but you squeezed his hand to let him know to stop. she shifts her eyes to him, then looks back at you with an "oh-i-see" look. "you headed home?"

"yeah, eren's gonna take me."

"okay, be safe," hitch adjusts your shirt, tugging the top hem over the shadows of your peeking bra. "call me when you get in."

"she will." eren assures hitch, and she nods, the two of you slipping away from the crowd and going off into the night.

[reidswrld]

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

[bapeach]

Accidental love

Another long fic and I'm honestly very proud of it! I don't know anything about torn ACL's or anything so if stuff is wrong, just ignore it. I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :) Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader  Word count: 9.1k+  Warnings: depression, life-changing accident, cursing, happy ending Summary: After a life-changing accident, Y/N finds peace in her new life, but when Paige Bueckers faces her own injury, their worlds collide. ------------

Paige Bueckers

Of course, it was a name you knew. You’re a student at UConn, so if you didn’t know of her, well, you’d be living under a rock. Paige Bueckers is UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making… 

You could go on and on about the things you’ve heard about her. She always seemed to be present in your life in one way or another. A mumble in the hallway as you go to class, an edit on your TikTok fyp, a celebration post on UConn’s Instagram page…

You don’t know the girl personally, having only been in the same room as her a few times when you went and watched some of her games. You’ve heard a lot of good things about her. You respected her grind, the way she gave her all to basketball and was a great team leader. You’ve also heard she’s a sweetheart off the court and always tries to make people comfortable. She’s also really pretty, which you’re sure is a contributing factor to why she’s so loved. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. 

You’d had your own fair share of admirers because of your looks. You’d caught plenty of girls fawning over you as they ogled your muscles, giggling when you sent them a flirty wink. If you were honest, you were quite the player when you first came to university. You’d messed around with a few girls, never really getting into anything too serious. 

You just didn’t have time for relationships. You were too busy studying biomedical engineering while also having a job and hobbies. And boy, did you have hobbies. Ever since you were young, you were a very active kid. Your parents always had to beg you to come inside, only being able to persuade you with promises of weekends at the indoor playground/kid gym.

Growing up, you stayed active. You went for a run every morning and swimming at least once a week. You didn’t join your school’s sports teams because how could you only choose one? You spend every weekend doing a different sport until you run out, only to start over. Basketball, boxing, soccer, baseball, hockey... you did it all. Your all-time favorite, though? Rock climbing.

You think there’s nothing better in this world than rock climbing after a long week. Wind ruffling your hair as the bright sun shines on your back. Climbing as high as you can, your muscles burning as you strain them to their limit, your chest tight as you gasp for breath. But it’s all worth it, because in the end, when you reach the top and have a full view of the horizon? It feels like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re untouchable and all your hopes and dreams are within reach.

The thought of climbing always filled you with warmth and excitement. Even after climbing the same rocks over and over, you still felt in awe every time you made it to the top. Knowing that no matter what, at the end of the day, you could always count on the dusty stones beneath your fingertips always made a smile grow on your face. 

Well. That was before the accident, at least. Now the thought of it makes you feel a dull throb in your chest. 

The last time you went climbing, you’d gone with some fellow enthusiasts. It was a group of strangers you’d met at the indoor climbing hall. Their little club ranged from new climbers to experts, and you’d clicked with them immediately. The guide you went with was a middle-aged man who had over 20 years of experience, so you were excited to maybe learn some new things. He was a really nice guy, happy to see someone your age be so excited about his favorite activity. When you partnered up with him, you didn’t expect anything to go wrong. Daredevils like yourself never really think too much about the consequences of your actions or things that could go wrong, otherwise you’d be too afraid to do half of the things you do. So that day was like no other. At first at least.

When you had reached 3/4ths of the climb, it happened. Even now, 2 years later, you’re not sure what exactly happened. You only know that one moment you were gripping onto the rocky wall and the next you were falling. When you think about it, it all feels like a dream. It didn’t take you long before you hit the ground, but it somehow felt like ages.

You remember how distraught your guide was when you finally woke up in the hospital. You didn’t understand anything he was saying at first. He was crying too hard, stumbling over his words as he kept apologizing. Something about malfunctioning equipment? 

When the doctor walked in, you immediately knew something was very wrong. Your chest filled with an unbearable ache when you saw the sad frown on his face. After that, everything is pretty much a blur. You didn't hear anything after the words “paralyzed” and “never walk again” were spoken. Everything became muffled as your ears started buzzing. You felt your chest tighten, and this time not in a good way. You were drowning on dry land.

The next months were some of the darkest moments of your life. You felt like your world was ending. And it kind of was. Everything you thought you were, gone in a matter of seconds. Bound to a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You shut everyone out at first, but soon realized you couldn’t bear all of this alone. Your family was your greatest support. They were your greatest fans, always celebrating your wins, and now they were here to mourn your greatest losses with you as well. 

You lost quite a lot of friends after the accident. It was hard being friends with your sporty friends when you could only think about how you wished you could join them. Your friendships didn’t all end on a bad note, though. You knew that if anything was wrong, you could still call them, and they’d show up in a heartbeat. 

You also gained a few friendships. Some people you met at therapy, support groups, online forums,... You also found a friend in the guide you were with that day. While you hated him at first, too filled with pain to think clearly, you’d talked to him at a later point. He apologized profusely once more, but you forgave him quickly. It’s not like it was his fault. Besides, it was hard to hate him, the way he looked at you with so much guilt. He had kind but wise eyes, prominent smile lines, and his hair was graying a little, but he was still full of life and filled with passion. You knew this accident would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he didn’t deserve that, so you made sure to stay in touch with him. If only to let him know you were doing well and make sure he was too.

You still often think about the days when you could be wild and free. In the two years since the incident, you’ve changed a lot. You’ve calmed down greatly, becoming a lot more mature and wise. While you used to be the go-to friend for a crazy time, you were now the friend people came to for advice. You missed your younger self, but still felt like she was a part of you. You’d gone through so much, the change was only natural. And honestly? You were proud of the person you’d become. Sure, you weren’t perfect and still had your days when you felt like you couldn’t breathe and like the world was against you. But overall, you were at peace with your life. It’s also not like you’d fully lost your playful self. You still loved teasing your friends, pulling pranks, and causing mischief.

So yeah, while you didn’t know Paige personally, you definitely felt like you knew a lot about her from the media, the people around you, and even some of her friends. You’d met Azzi a year ago when she got injured during a game. She’d been destroyed when she realized she wouldn’t be playing again any time soon. Having to find something new to do, she’d made her way to the library, where she bumped into you. You started talking, and before long you two became pretty good friends. You listened to her situation and told her what you’d been through. 

At first, she’d apologized profusely, feeling bad about how she complained about not being able to play for a few months while you’d never get to do your favorite things ever again. You’d made sure the younger girl knew it was okay, and that you didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t be upset just because you’d also gone through something. You’d spent hours with the girl talking about the adventures you used to go on and how much your life had changed. You made sure to tell her how happy you were despite everything, letting her know that no matter what, she’d be okay. 

While you don’t talk as much as you used to anymore, now that she’s back on the court, you still text each other every so often, smiling as you pass each other on campus. You didn’t blame her for becoming busy, you were excited to see her play with that bright smile on her face. You made sure to cheer her on and text her congratulations on her wins and “You did well” messages when the team lost. The girl appreciates you more than you know. Without you, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’d learned so much from you.

Somehow, during your whole friendship, you’d never really met the team. Not that you really felt the need to. She had her friends, and you had yours. There was no need to mix up the groups. That being said, you didn’t really think you’d ever meet Paige or become close with her.

You were curious, though. As you wheel out of the library, you hear Paige’s name all around you. Two girls leaning in close as one gasps her name. A group of guys with their mouths dropped open as a video on their phone says the star athlete’s name. A professor walking past with a frown, mumbling, “... yeah, Paige Bueckers…”. 

When you reach your dorm, you open your laptop and search “Paige Bueckers” on Twitter. You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. The first tweet you see is a video with the caption “I’m gonna cry, I feel so bad for her”. You click the video and see why the basketball player was being talked about everywhere. At first, it looks like a normal clip from their most recent game. You see Nika passing the ball to Aaliyah, who passes it to a sprinting Azzi, who finally passes it off to Paige. You blink, and suddenly the blonde is on the floor, clutching her knee as tears stream down her face. You can see the worry and fear on her teammates’ faces, and the distraught but knowing look on Paige’s. A torn ACL. No doubt about it.

For a moment, your own accident flashes in your mind. The weightlessness as you were falling. Waking up and realizing you can’t move. You shake away the thoughts, blinking the haze from your eyes. You grab your phone to text the girl something, anything to make her feel better, but you pause. Right now, the last thing she’ll care about is a stranger texting her she’ll be okay when they probably don’t have any idea what she’s going through. Your thumb hovers over Azzi’s contact, but you end up closing the app. The brunette is probably too busy to talk, being too worried about her best friend. “I’ll talk to her soon,” you think to yourself before going on about your day.

You were right about talking to her soon. Only a week after the latest UConn tragedy, you see her. You were tucked away in your favorite corner of the library, a worn copy of your favorite book lying in your lap. You were surrounded by colorful pens, post-its, stickers, and tabs as you added new scribbles in the margins of the book (don’t worry, you’d gotten your own copy after the first time you read it).

Finishing a tiny doodle on the inside of the cover, you look up and see the younger girl. Beaming that wide smile of hers that could light up a dark room. The type of smile that makes you return the gesture before you even realize what’s happening. When she reaches your table, she greets you happily before looking back. It’s only then that you realize she’s brought company.

There she is. UConn’s basketball miracle in all her glory. Paige Bueckers. 

You look her up and down. She’s wearing her blue UConn tracksuit, her hair is in a bun, and she’s holding two crutches under her arms. Her usually bright blue eyes have become a darker color as a frown is set on her face. She didn’t want to be there, she wanted to be in her room, wallowing in her bed with a pint of ice cream. She doesn’t understand why Azzi felt the need to drag her out of the comfort of her own dorm to go meet some stranger that would give her the same stupid pitying looks she’d been getting from everyone around her. 

“Hey Ace,” you send her a grin before looking back towards the injured girl. “Hey, I’m Y/N,” you nod at her. She only frowns at you until Azzi turns and sends her a pointed look. “Paige,” the blonde sighs. You hide your amused smile, knowing she’d get even more annoyed if she thought you were making fun of her. 

“I figured it was finally time some of my favorite people met!” the brunette beams. When you catch her eye, you have a silent conversation with her. You knew why she was here with Paige. She was hoping you’d be able to help her best friend the way you’d helped her. You can tell by Azzi’s body language that she’s slightly on edge, not sure how you’d react. You send her a reassuring wink as you start talking, “About time! I’ve heard a lot about you, Paige,” you say gently. The girl only hums in response. 

You see Azzi frown for a second before her signature easy smile makes its way back to her face. “I was thinking we could all go for coffee,” she says, looking at you with hope in her eyes. “Sounds good to me!” you grin as you start packing up your stuff. Once you’re done, you glance over at Paige, who is looking around with a bored expression. You’re not offended at her not wanting to spend time with you. You knew what it was like to feel your world crash, and you’d also tried pushing people away. The blonde maybe didn’t want to be around you right now, but you’d make sure she realized that she’d be okay.

You put your bag on your lap before wheeling your way around the table so you could be right beside the basketball players. You see Paige’s eyes widen as she takes you in, only now having realized you were in a wheelchair. You let her observe you for a moment, seeing her emotions swim in her eyes. You could tell she was shocked and a bit embarrassed, but you also saw her frustrations as she clenched her jaw and started frowning again. “So that’s why Azzi wanted me to meet her. Just so she could tell me that whatever I’m going through is nothing compared to what she has to live with,” Paige thinks as she tries not to roll her eyes. 

You simply send her a smile. You don’t mind the anger that seems to radiate off of the girl. You know she’ll probably say and do stuff she doesn’t mean in rage, and you don’t mind being the person all that fury is aimed at. You know that at the end of the day, she won’t mean any of it, and you’d rather she tries to hurt your feelings than her sunshine best friend.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” you say with a raised brow and a tiny smirk before you start wheeling away. You lead the way through campus to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk with Azzi. You try to include Paige as well, but you don’t talk to her all that much, not wanting to overwhelm her. When you arrive at the shop, the brunette holds the door for you and Paige with a smile, her eyes twinkling. You thank her before following the blonde in. 

“Your usual?” Azzi asks as she walks in behind you. “Yes please, thanks Princess,” you say with a playful wink, a wide grin on your face. The brunette shakes her head in amusement, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. You make your way towards a free table in the back, waving hi to the barista that always calls you his favorite regular. Paige follows not long after, while Azzi waits in line to order the drinks. Once Paige sits down with a huff, slightly out of breath as she rubs the spots where she leaned against the crutches, you don’t say anything at first. The silence isn’t exactly fun, but it’s not a bad silence either.

When your friend makes her way to your table, you smile softly at her as you accept your drink. “Thanks, Ace.” “Of course,” she replies, her voice soft. She looks over at Paige for a moment before clearing her throat. “Listen, P, I know you’re hurting. Not just physically but mentally too. And I know how you feel like it’s the end of the world, but I promise you, it’s not. When I went through my injury and couldn’t play, I spiraled too. But then I met Y/N, and she made me realize that everything would be okay. I know you’re not happy about being here, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to be sad, but please just… talk to her. Y/N is an amazing friend to have, not just because she knows what it’s like to lose stuff, but just because she listens. She really listens, and she has a way of making you feel a little lighter on days when things seem impossible.” 

You look at her as she’s speaking, your smile soft as your chest feels warm. It was nice to hear her say such sweet things about you and trust that you’ll be able to help someone else she cares so much about. 

Azzi turns to you before continuing. “And Y/N, please don’t think we’re only here because I want you to help P. I’ve always wanted to introduce you two. I feel like you two could be great friends!” You lean over to grab her hand and give it a little squeeze. Of course, to anyone else it might’ve looked weird, the way you and Azzi hadn’t spoken in a while, and she only seemed to come back to you for help. You knew that wasn’t the case, though. The brunette was the definition of kindness. I mean, she has the nickname “The People’s Princess” for a reason. You didn’t feel offended at all, knowing this only proved how much she trusted you and how much you’d helped her in the past.

Paige’s jaw stays clenched a little longer, her brows furrowed. “I don’t need her help. I don’t need anyone’s help,” she thinks angrily to herself. When she looks up at her best friend, however, she falters. She knows Azzi doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. “I guess… if Azzi speaks this highly of her, then… she can’t be that bad.” You see her soften as she gives the brunette a soft nod. She turns to you, sighing softly before giving you a tentative smile. You grin at her as mischief swirls in your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna work out just fine,” you think.

As you drink your coffee, you talk about everything that’s been happening in your life lately, asking Azzi for details on what she’s been up to since you last talked. You make sure to ask Paige questions too, getting to know her more as well. You keep the conversation away from basketball or your own accident. There was a time and place for that conversation, and it wasn’t here and now. 

You stay in the coffee shop for hours, just chatting about everything and nothing. You manage to make both girls laugh a lot, one time even making Paige laugh so hard, her coffee comes out of her nose. She’d looked pretty embarrassed, her face turning a bright red, but she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. 

You’re in the middle of telling Paige a story about something you and Azzi had done a few months ago when the brunette’s phone went off. You pause your conversation as you look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh shoot! I gotta go, uh, do you guys mind if I head out?” she rambles, already getting up. You look at Paige, who’s already looking at you. You grin at each other before turning to Azzi. “Don’t worry, we’ll play nice,” you smirk. 

Once the brunette leaves, you think for a moment Paige will go back to her quiet self, but you’re wrong. “So? What happened next?” she asks, her eyes wide in a childlike wonder. Warmth blossoms in your chest. The people weren’t wrong when they praised the type of person the star athlete is. She was sweet, paid full attention to what you were saying at all times, and she was funny as hell. 

You continue the story, making the blonde chuckle and shake her head in disbelief. “There’s just no way Azzi did that.” You shrug with a smirk, “It’s all true.” She looks at you a little longer, eyes squinted, as she tries to find out if you're lying. When she realizes you’re not, she chuckles again as she leans back. 

You continue to look at her and notice her demeanor change. Her smile slowly leaves her face as her body becomes tense again. Somehow you’d managed to not make her think about basketball or her injury the whole time you were at the coffee shop, but now it seemed to all come back in one big wave. 

She frowns, leaning forward as she hesitantly meets your eye. “So… Are you finally gonna tell me to just suck it up and stop moping about my knee? Because at least there’s a chance I’ll still be able to play?”

You look at her for a moment. “Nope.” You push away from the table as you start rolling your wheelchair to the door. “W-Wait, what?” You hear Paige stutter, her chair screeching from how hard she scoots it away from the table. You grin, hearing the clattering behind you as the blonde struggles to grab her crutches to follow you. You thank the girl holding the door open for you as you roll into the warm afternoon sun. Paige huffs as she finally reaches you, a frown on her face. You can tell she’s not really upset, though, the way her lips are curling into a small smile.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm… well… wheel you to your dorm…? Wheel to your dorm as you hobble along…?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you rub your chin, trying to find the right wording. You hear Paige snort beside you as she starts moving. “Oh my god, bro, just shut up.” 

You stick your tongue out in response before speeding up a bit to match her pace. You two don’t talk for a moment, enjoying the nice breeze as birds whistle around you. “I had fun with you today, Paige,” you smile up at the girl. She smiles back at you. “I had fun with you too… I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, it’s just… it’s been really hard,” the frown from earlier makes its way back onto her face.

“Don’t worry about it, P,” you say with a smile. The girl returns the gesture, hearing you call her her nickname. “So uhh, you don’t want to tell, y'know, all that stuff about how it’ll all be okay?” She asks hesitantly. “Would you believe me if I did?” You ask without any judgment in your voice. “I’m not sure… probably not,” she says as she looks over sheepishly. “Then there wouldn’t be any point to it, would there?” You tease. 

She looks back ahead of her, but you stare a little longer. “I’ll tell you about my accident some day, but not right now. I don’t wanna tell you and have you just end up feeling bad, y’know? We had a good day, let’s not ruin it with my sob story,” you grin as you send her a wink.

Once you reach the blonde’s dorm, she looks at you with reluctant eyes. She doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet. “Give me your number, we’ll text,” you demand, not really giving her a chance to say no, but you both know she wouldn’t. You see her relax a little as she hands you her phone. Once you’ve put your number in and added a cheeky contact name, you give her back her phone. 

“Text me, alright? I know where you live now, so if you don’t, I’ll come find you,” you say with a teasing wink. “Yes, ma’am,” she grins. You two say your goodbyes before you make your way to your own dorm. You haven’t even made it out of the basketball player’s hallway before you hear your phone ding. Your stomach flutters and your chest feels warm. You were excited about your new friendship and were looking forward to getting to know the legendary player on a deeper level. 

Over the following weeks, you two continue to text every day, hanging out in the coffee shop a few more times too. Sometimes Azzi joins you, but more often than not, it’s just the two of you. You learn more about Paige’s family and friends and how life was living in Minnesota while she also gets to know you more. 

You can’t say every day you spend with the blonde is an amazing day. The girl’s injury was still fresh, so she was often grumpy and sad and found it hard to enjoy having to sit still in some coffee shop or library when she’d rather be out there playing ball. You never got upset with her though, you’d been there before, and you knew she just needed some silent support. 

One afternoon, your phone rings, bringing a smile to your face. You know who’s calling before you even look. “Hey, P,” you say, your grin clear in your voice. “Hey Y/N/N, whatcha up to?” she mumbles. “Just hanging out in my dorm, watching a show. What ‘bout you?” you reply, leaning back on your bed as you stare at the ceiling. “M’bored, you should come over… Some of the girls are coming over later… You should meet them,” she says. When you close your eyes, you can see her sitting in her room, one hand holding her phone as the other rubs her neck shyly.

“Sounds nice,” you murmur. You hear a soft sigh of relief on the other end. “Yeah?” Paige’s voice crackles through the phone, her tone hopeful. “Mhm,” you hum, “I’ll be there in like… 20 minutes?” “Ugh, 20 whole minutes?” she whines as you chuckle at how childish she could be. “Oh, I’m sorry? Do you want me to put my wheelchair in turbo mode?” You joke. “Oh my goddd, stoppp,” she groans, muffling her chuckles behind her hand. 

When you first made jokes about your injury and wheelchair, Paige had completely frozen, not knowing how to react. It had taken her a while, but now she was used to your stupid little jokes and knew you made them because you liked making people laugh.

You laugh softly at her reaction before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. You get out of bed, hopping into your wheelchair with ease, having been through this whole thing what feels like a million times before. You quickly get ready, grabbing a book Azzi had been wanting to borrow for a while and putting it in your bag before heading out. 

You were excited to see Paige and Azzi again and were curious to see what their other friends were like. You were pretty nervous, though. You’d be the odd one out in their usual little bubble. You didn’t let that stop you from going over, though. You’d never really been afraid to take leaps, and weren’t going to start now either.

When you make it to Paige and Azzi’s dorm in record time (the wind must’ve helped you make it there so fast…), you let your presence be known with your signature knock. Paige opens the door almost immediately with her trademark grin. “Hey P,” you smile as you wheel your way inside. “Hey Y/N/N,” she replies. “So, when’re the others gonna be here?” you say as you follow her towards her room. “Don’t know. Half an hour maybe?” she shrugs as she plops down on her bed. You nod your head as you look around. 

You’d been in the blonde’s room a few times already, but you still liked seeing if anything had changed. Her room was filled with the usual clutter, clothes thrown on the chair in the corner, a few water bottles next to her bed,...

She pats the space next to her, inviting you in. You wheel closer before heaving yourself onto the bed. Blue eyes follow your every move, ready to jump into action if you need help. Once you’re comfortable, you lean back and smile at her. “Grey's Anatomy?” you ask, your head tilted in question. Paige’s face immediately lights up as she leans over to grab her laptop. You continue the show where you’d left off last time before you hear commotion in the living room. 

You look over at Paige, who looks back at you with a pout on her face. You chuckle, sitting up a little straighter to hop back into your wheelchair. Once you’re seated, you wait for the blonde to grab her crutches and lead the way. You laugh softly at her huffing and puffing, knowing she’d rather watch her show right now than hang out with her team.

When you make it to the living room, you see KK, Nika, Ice, and Azzi chatting as they shrug off their jackets. When they notice Paige and you, they quiet down. “Y/N! Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Azzi beams at you. “Guys, this is Y/N, the girl I’ve told you about, the one that helped me during my recovery,” she says cheerfully. KK, Nika, and Ice smile kindly at you before introducing themselves. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” you smile. “Only good things, I hope?” Nika teases. “Meh,” you reply with a smirk. The girls laugh before finding a spot to sit as you guys hang out. They leave 2 spots open on the couch for Paige and you, making you send them a thankful smile. 

You sit down and get to know the girls a little better. You could see why the UConn team was such a close-knit group. The girls were funny, sweet, and protective and treated each other like family. 

After a while, KK and Ice get bored and decide to turn on Paige’s PlayStation to play Fortnite. You continue to talk to everyone, laughing at the funny stories the girls tell you about Paige, trying to embarrass her. The blonde’s face turns a bright red as she complains about them being jerks, but her bright smile doesn’t leave her face. Your heart feels like it’s grown two sizes with how happy you’re feeling.

“Oh wait, Ace, I’ve got that book you asked for,” you say. You look towards your bag, seeing it near KK. “Hey KK, d’you mind grabbing my bag for me?” you ask the gaming girl. “Hm?” she hums distractedly. “Grab it yourself, bro,” she says, completely focused on the game. You see Azzi open her mouth to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop her. You send her an evil grin as mischief swirls around in your eyes. You make your face neutral, maybe even a little pouty, as you let out a sad sigh, “Alright.” 

You grab onto your wheelchair a little louder than necessary as you lean forward to move into it. KK’s head whips around so fast, you think she might’ve given herself whiplash. “WAIT, NO!” she yells, her eyes wide as she scrambles to get up to grab it for you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone move as fast as her at that moment. 

The girls around you slap their hands in front of their mouths to stifle their giggles. The younger girl looks at them with a pouty frown, feeling bad for forgetting you couldn’t easily get up to grab something. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles as she hands you the book. You send her a wink and a grin, letting her know you were just joking. You weren't offended about the fact she seemed to have forgotten. It showed you that the girls didn’t just see you as someone with a disability.

She sits back down next to Ice, sticking her tongue out at the still laughing girl. “s’not funny,” she mutters, staring at the TV as she continues the game. You could get used to hanging out with these girls. You loved the way they constantly teased each other, but never went too far. Many people were too scared to make any type of jokes around you, too focused on your impairment to realize you were also just a person. 

20 minutes go by before a phone rings. You recognize the ringtone as Paige’s and look towards the sound. Her phone is lying on the table near Ice and KK, who both look over for a split second before their attention goes back towards the TV. “KK, gimme my phone,” Paige demands, leaning forward to grab it from her. “Get it yourself,” the younger girl quips back, not even glancing at the blonde. Paige looks over at the other girls for a second, a “Seriously?” clear on her face. 

She grins before copying you. Sigh. “Fine,” she mutters, grabbing onto her crutches, making them bang against each other. KK looks back and deadpans at her. “Go ahead,” she says dryly, turning back to her match. 

“Bruh, what the hell,” Paige huffs as she gets up to grab her phone. You let out a deep belly laugh at the annoyed look on her face. The blonde turns to you with an unamused frown, as you send her an innocent smile and a shrug. 

You guys hang out for a few hours before it’s time to head back to your dorm. Your chest feels light when you say your goodbyes. Each girl gives you a hug with the promise of hanging out again soon. When you make it back to your room, you see you already have 2 texts from Paige. “had fun 2day, thanks for coming over” and “think KK likes you more than me”. 

That night, you go to bed with a wide smile on your face.

Days go by, and you stay in touch with all of the girls, but you mainly hang out with Paige. Today was another one of your planned hangouts, this time at your dorm, but the second the blonde arrived, you knew it wouldn’t be all fun and games. She’d just gone to physical therapy for her knee, and her face looks thunderous. She hadn’t slept well, constantly waking up because of her knee, she’s sick and tired of not being able to play, and physical therapy had gone horribly. 

When she walks in, she wordlessly flops down on your couch as she stares at the ceiling, a frown etched into her face. You go over to your fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the both of you before returning to her side. You give her the bottle and wait patiently for her to talk. “I fucking hate this,” she fumes. “It’s been weeks since the game, why is everything still so… so… ughhhh,” she groans, unable to find the words. You give her arm a squeeze in support, but she shrugs you off, shooting upright as she continues her heated rant. 

You stay calm as you listen to her, knowing she needs this moment to blow off some steam. When she quiets down, heaving from all the talking, you quietly try to comfort her. “I know it sucks, P, but you need to just keep going, don’t give up. You’ll be on the court again soon enough, and it’ll be like you never left-” you can’t finish your sentence before Paige interrupts. 

“NO, YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” she yells, her frustrations high. You wince slightly at the volume but don’t say anything. You give the blonde a moment to calm down and let everything sink in. You’re not offended, you know people say things they don’t mean in moments like this. 

Once she realizes what she just said to you, the one person who understands more than anything, she looks at you with guilt in her eyes. Her blue eyes having become a shade darker as they look at you sadly. You see tears starting to well up before she leans forward, putting her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers in shame. You lean forward again, softly grabbing her wrist to take her hands away from her face. You hold one hand between yours as you catch her eye. You give her a gentle smile, letting her know you’re not upset.

“I shouldn’t have yelled… I shouldn’t’ve said that,” she mumbles regretfully. “It’s okay, P,” you murmur, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re not mad?” She looks at you like a kicked puppy. You shake your head with a smile, “I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive a pretty girl raising her voice at me.” She gives you a tiny, sad smile, leaning her forehead against your entwined hands.

You start telling her your story. The story of how you grew up, playing every sport under the sun, up until that one dreadful day. You tell her about the dark, depressive hole you fell into after you woke up paralyzed, the way you pushed everyone away, and how you thought nothing would ever be okay again. The whole time you’re talking, she looks you in the eyes, barely blinking as she listens intently. Her jaw clenches as her eyes become glassy when you talk about your depression. When you finish talking about what it was like the first few months after the accident, you pause for a moment, letting everything sink in.

“How’d you do it…?” She asks, her voice cracking with emotion. “It was hard… really fucking hard,” you start. “I pushed everyone away at first, but my family never gave up on me. They helped me realize that while it really fucking sucked… I was still alive. And I would find new things to care about. And I did!” You smile. “With all my free time, I started looking for new hobbies. I found out pretty quickly that I don’t have the patience for puzzles, and I poked myself one too many times to enjoy cross-stitching,” you say with a playful grin, making the athlete breathe out a little laugh.

“I learned that I have pretty good rhythm, so I was able to pick up playing the guitar and the piano pretty easily. I realized that doodling really helps me unwind after a long day, which is funny because it’s the complete opposite of how I used to relax. I got better and better at drawing and tried out a bunch of different mediums, but my favorite is still pencil drawings. I’d always loved reading but never made enough time for it, but now I try to finish at least one book a week… Uhh, I bought a PlayStation which I play on maybe a little too much, but you know what that’s like, Ms Fortnite addict.” You tease. She rolls her eyes, but you can tell that she’s no longer feeling so bad, a tiny smile decorating her face. 

You let silence fill the room for a moment. “I’m not saying this in a way of being like, ‘Stop complaining and get over it’, but I promise P, things will be okay. You’re the Paige Bueckers… It’s gonna take a lot more than a torn ACL for you to stop being you. Have some faith.” You send her a comforting smile as you squeeze her hand. She nods at you, her muscles relaxed as she finally lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks… for everything,” she breathes. You shake your head with a smile, thinking it’s silly she’s thanking you for being her friend. “You don’t need to thank me for that… but you’re welcome. And thank you for including me in your group of friends… I don’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun.”

You two talk for the rest of the afternoon, ordering a pizza when dinner time arrives. After you’re done eating, you migrate to your bedroom, letting a movie play in the background as you keep talking about everything and nothing. You’re sitting on your bed, telling Paige a story, waving your arms animatedly as her blue eyes stare into yours. “... And then she looked at me and I almost passed out from laughing! You should’ve seen the look on Ace’s face!” you say, hiccuping a little from laughing. The blonde laughs along, her chest feeling warm at the sound of your laugh.

“So what’s up with that nickname anyway?” she questions as she leans her head on her hand. “Ace?” You ask. “Well, her name’s Azzi, but people call her Azz, so then I started calling her Ace, as in A C E, like in a deck of cards. The ace cards are the highest cards in the deck, and I think of her quite highly,” you explain.

“Okay, but doesn’t it depend on the game?” she asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy. “Hm?” “Well, isn’t the ace card the lowest in certain games?” she says with a raised eyebrow. You can’t help laughing as she says that. “God, are you always this negative?” You tease, giving her a little push. She rolls her eyes as she scrunches her nose, sticking her tongue out. 

You continue talking until the sky becomes dark. Paige looks out the window, a slight frown growing on her face at the thought of having to leave. “Do you wanna stay the night?” you ask nonchalantly, but you feel your heart beat a little faster. Her bright blue eyes find yours immediately as she looks to see if you’re joking. “Yeah, sure, if that’s cool with you,” she says as she fiddles with her necklace. You smirk at how nervous she seems. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t, now would I?” She slaps your arm lightly to shut you up. “Go ahead and grab some clothes from my closet,” you tell her, hopping into your wheelchair to go get ready for bed in your bathroom.

When you return, you freeze for a moment, your heart swelling at the blonde dressed in your clothes. When she looks over at you, you start moving again, letting her use the bathroom as well. A few minutes later, she returns, looking around a little sheepishly. You pat the bed next to you, sending her a calming smile. You continue talking a little longer, but slowly feel your eyes grow heavy. You fall asleep to Paige’s tired mumbling. The last thing you remember is a soft hand grabbing yours, entwining your fingers before you doze off.

After that night, your relationship with Paige changes. You feel like you’ve somehow become even closer to her and are happy to call her your best friend. You’re rarely seen without the other, always attached to the hip. You make sure to come with her to physical therapy for silent support, while she often joins you in the library as you finish another book on your list. Your favorite hangout spot is the coffee shop where you two properly talked for the first time. You make sure to go there every week, sometimes even being joined by the girls on the team (who you’d all gotten to know pretty well by now).

When the end of Paige’s recovery nears, you’re a little nervous. While you never blamed Azzi for getting too busy to hang out a lot after she recovered, you would still be upset if the same happened with the blonde. All your worries were for naught, however, when Paige continues to call you every chance she gets, sending you quick texts when she can’t. She often adds silly selfies as well, just to make you laugh.

You’ve known you’ve had a crush on the girl for a while now, but you never said anything. Paige needed to focus on getting better without any distractions. You also didn’t want her to think your whole friendship was based on you having a crush on her, so it was best you just kept quiet.

Paige, in return, was also too scared to tell you about her crush. She loved the friendship you two had and didn’t want to ruin it just because she’d caught feelings. She was afraid that every glance, every touch, and every soft smile was just you being a good friend. She couldn’t bear to lose you after everything you’d done for her, so she kept her mouth shut.

Azzi, being the observant friend she is, immediately knew about both of your feelings when she’d “caught” you two asleep on the couch, holding each other close. She made it her mission to get you two together. She started off by trying to convince Paige to confess, but that didn’t work out well, seeing as the blonde was too scared and always shrugged her off. Her next plan was to try to make you confess, knowing you were the bravest person she knew. That sadly also didn’t work, seeing as you were too considerate of others to think about your own feelings when you knew Paige could end up getting hurt. 

So here she was, back on plan A. “Come onnn, P, she’s head over heels for you, I’m telling you!” The blonde rolls her eyes so hard it gives her a bit of a headache. “Azzi, please, we’ve been over this before, let it goooo,” Paige groans, feeling butterflies flutter in her stomach at the thought of you liking her back. “No! I’m not gonna let this go. You two mean so much to me, I just want you guys to be happy,” she says with a sad pout on her face. Paige lifts her head from where she’s lying on her bed to look at the brunette, and groans again at the kicked puppy look on her face. She could never say no to her when she made that face.

Paige sighs and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “...How sure are you?” She mutters, looking over at Azzi with desperation in her eyes. The brunette gives her a soft but excited smile. “110%, P. You know I wouldn’t say this if there was even a slight chance I was wrong.” The blonde’s cheeks turn a soft pink as a happy yet slightly embarrassed smile shows on her face. “Okay then, how do we do this?”

You’re hanging out with a friend when you hear the familiar ringtone go off. You excuse yourself for a moment, picking up the phone. “What’s up, P?” You grin. “Hey Y/N/N!” You can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re coming to our next game, right?” she asks. “Uhm, hello? It’s your first game back on the court, of course I’m coming,” you tease, sounding slightly offended she felt like she had to ask. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chuckles, “jus’ wanted to be sure.” “I’ll be your biggest cheerleader, don’t even worry about it,” you promise. “Ight, I’ll hold you to that,” she replies before you two say your goodbyes.

When the day of Paige’s first game back arrives, you know the blonde is bursting with nerves. You meet up with her before the game to wish her good luck and to encourage her. Her leg shakes up and down as she bites her nails. Her eyes flit around the room as she nods along to what you’re saying, but you know she’s not listening. You roll closer to her, grabbing her hand and pulling it away from her mouth. You give it a gentle squeeze as she finally looks at you. “Don’t worry so much, P. You’ve been working your ass off for this moment, and you’re gonna do great, okay?” you say, trying to reassure her as much as you can. Her shoulders loosen as she finally takes in what you’re saying.

“Thanks, Y/N/N,” she mutters with a small smile. You give her a wink before you leave to wish the other girls good luck and to find your spot before the crowd starts filtering in. While Paige is extremely nervous about her first game back, she’s more nervous about what’s going to happen at halftime. She really hopes she won’t embarrass herself. She walks back over to her team, quickly going over everything again to make sure everything would go exactly the way she’d planned. 

The first quarter of the game flies by before she even knows it. She already scored 12 points, giving UConn the advantage. As she sits on the bench, listening to coach Geno, she looks around. Her eyes immediately find yours as you send her two thumbs up. She grins before locking back into the game. 

The second quarter goes by even faster, making Paige’s stomach clench with nerves. They were now 9 points ahead, so it was still anyone’s game. First, however, it was time for halftime. 

The blonde wipes her sweat on a towel, looking over at Azzi. The brunette gives her a reassuring smile before walking over to you. You don’t expect her to walk over but smile at her nonetheless. “Hey Y/N/N, how much do you trust me?” she grins. You raise an eyebrow at her, but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. “With my life,” you reply. She sends you a beaming smile, giving your shoulder a squeeze as she wheels you onto the court. You chuckle as you ask her what’s going on. She simply says, “You’ll see.” 

Paige walks up to you, fiddling with her hands nervously. She bends down on one knee and starts talking, her voice quivering a little. “Y/N… I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You open your mouth to tell her off, but she holds up her hand before you can say a word. “I know, I know, I don’t need to thank you… but I want to. When you entered my life, I was going through a very difficult time. I felt like I was drowning on dry land… But you? You were like my life buoy, not letting me sink. You’re this amazing, strong person, and you’ve made me want to be like you. To never give up and to look at life in a positive way, even when things go wrong.” She swallows harshly. You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, speechless at the girl's words. Your chest feels warm as your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of its cage.

“The past few months have meant more to me than you could imagine, and… I fell for you harder than I thought I ever could… So… I want to ask you this,” she says, still nervous but a bit more confident as she sees the adoration in your eyes. She stands up and accepts the flowers Nika gives her. She hands them to you as she steps aside. 

Your eyes tear up as you see the scene in front of you. The whole UConn team, as well as the opponent's team, are standing there. All holding various items. A few girls are holding cardboard signs with the words “Will you go out with me?” on them. Your free hand flies to your mouth as you look up at Paige. The blonde is already staring at you lovingly with a soft smile. You chuckle at the amount of love you’re feeling right now as you nod your head at her. You can barely hear the crowd cheer around you as you feel your blood rushing in your ears.

The star player’s smile becomes even wider as her eyes crinkle. She grabs your hand, placing a kiss on it as all players start making their way towards you. You get handed all kinds of gifts from the blonde. Your favorite book annotated by her, a Lego set you two had talked about getting, a new pack of expensive pencils, a guitar pick maker, and a bunch of other things. You feel so incredibly seen by her that you find it hard to keep your tears at bay.

Once you’ve received all the gifts and thanked Paige a bunch, you make your way back to your seat. You hear a few “congrats” aimed your way as fans smile widely at you. When you turn back to the court, you see the blonde already looking at you. She sends you a flirty wink, making you chuckle as you shake your head in amusement. While the circumstances of you two meeting weren’t the best, you thank your lucky stars that the universe guided you to the Paige Bueckers. UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making. The girl that stole your heart but gave you hers in return.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

i just imagine mc loving driving sebastian up the wall by whispering things like I want you inside me or I want to taste you before walking away like nothing all day sebastian and his will power are holding on by a thread

One of Those Days | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

ahhhh anon thank you for this request I had sooo much fun torturing Seb while writing this. I hope you enjoy it too!!

Words: ~5,500

Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Seventh Year, Angst, Teasing, Longing, Established Relationship

Friday mornings always held a certain promise for Sebastian. The week’s end brought the light at the end of the tunnel: no more late-night study sessions, no looming deadlines, and—best of all—plans for the weekend. And this weekend was shaping up to be exceptional.

He was seated at the Slytherin table across from Ominis, who was currently buttering a piece of toast with his usual meticulous care. Sebastian leaned back, cradling his coffee, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you so smug this morning?” Ominis asked without looking up, his tone laced with suspicion.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s Friday. The weekend awaits. And tomorrow’s plans? Impeccable.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She got me tickets for the Puddlemere United match. Front row.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, still focused on his toast. “Ah, yes. Your doting girlfriend, endlessly spoiling you. Do remind me how the universe decided that you deserved her?”

“Still trying to figure that out myself,” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He grinned despite the jab. Ominis had been endlessly teasing him about your relationship since it had started over a year ago, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He still felt like he was getting away with something by having you in his life.

His gaze drifted to the Great Hall’s double doors for the third time in as many minutes. You were always late to breakfast—perpetually running behind in the morning.

“She’s late,” Ominis said flatly.

“She’s always late,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “You’d think by seventh year she’d have mastered the concept of time.”

“She must have overslept,” Ominis mused, as if it weren’t the obvious explanation. “Again.”

“She was up late,” Sebastian said defensively. “Studying."

“Is that what she told you?” Ominis asked, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. "Let's be honest, she was probably off fighting acromantulas in the forest again."

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted you slipping through the doors, looking every bit as radiant as he’d expected. His heart did its usual stupid flip at the sight of you.

You glanced around the room, spotting him instantly. That smile widened, and you started toward the Slytherin table.

“Speak of the devil,” Ominis huffed a laugh, though Sebastian barely heard him. His attention was fixed entirely on you as you approached.

“Morning, boys,” you greeted, slipping into the seat beside Sebastian as though you weren’t a solid twenty minutes late. “Miss me?”

Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against yours. “Always. Though I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Got caught up,” you replied breezily, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know how it is.”

Ominis sighed. “No, we don’t. Some of us value punctuality.”

You smirked at him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, I still manage to charm you both despite my flaws. A talent, really.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s charm so much as sheer persistence,” Ominis replied dryly, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could reply, Imelda Reyes appeared behind him, her usual air of impatience in full force.

“Ominis, did you finish the notes for Professor Binns’ essay?” she asked brusquely, tapping her foot as if she had somewhere more important to be.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Yes, Imelda. Not that I understand why you insist on taking history so seriously. You do realize it’s impossible to impress a ghost?”

As Ominis turned his attention to Imelda’s complaints, you leaned toward Sebastian, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing him as you spoke just low enough for him to hear.

“You know,” you murmured, “I had a dream about you last night.”

Sebastian froze, the casual sip of coffee he’d been mid-swig nearly going down the wrong pipe. He coughed, turning his head away to avoid choking outright. When he finally managed to compose himself, he looked at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“And what, exactly, was this dream about?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you picked up your teaspoon, delicately stirring your tea, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, you tilted your head, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Nothing appropriate for breakfast conversation,” you replied sweetly, dragging the edge of the spoon between your lips.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. He stared at you, a faint pink creeping up the back of his neck as you set the spoon down with an air of innocence. You went back to buttering your toast like you hadn’t just shattered his ability to think coherently.

“Everything all right, Sebastian?” Ominis asked, his attention back on him now that Imelda had left.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, biting into your toast to hide your grin. Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

You sipped your tea serenely, but Sebastian could feel the amusement radiating off you in waves. He knew that look. The playful light in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips—it was the look you always got when you were about to cause trouble. And Merlin, it was only breakfast, but you’d already decided to make this one of those days.

He sighed internally, doing some quick mental math.

It lined up. Of course, it did.

Three weeks ago, you’d asked him to come with you to the apothecary, dragging him along while explaining that you needed to restock ingredients for a potion you brewed monthly. He had listened with genuine interest, mostly because you had a knack for making even mundane things captivating. You’d laughed when he asked a few questions, calling him “endearingly clueless for someone so brilliant,” and gone on to share more details about how the potion worked to ease period pains. But now, as he connected the dots, realization dawned with the weight of inevitability.

You were ovulating.

Sebastian’s stomach did a little flip, and a faint, involuntary heat crept up his neck. That explained everything: your heightened playfulness, the way you leaned just a little closer, the way your teasing had an edge that sent sparks skittering down his spine. You were always a minx—bold, confident, and unrepentantly mischievous—but there was something about these days that tipped you from charming troublemaker to full-blown menace. And now that he’d caught on, he knew exactly what kind of day this was shaping up to be.

He was in trouble.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. You kept your hands to yourself, but every glance, every comment, you sent his way held that same spark. It was enough to make him want to tug you into an empty corridor and—

“Ready for class?” Your voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, cheerful as ever. You rose from your seat, brushing crumbs from your skirt as if you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes planting suggestive landmines in his brain. He swallowed hard and nodded, pushing his chair back to stand.

Ominis muttered something about Sebastian being unusually quiet, but Sebastian waved him off, claiming he was still waking up. A complete lie—he was wide awake now.

As the three of you made your way to Charms, Sebastian tried to steel himself. He knew better than to let you get under his skin this early in the day. If he gave in to your antics now, you’d win—and you loved to win.

The moment you slid into the seat beside him, he felt the familiar brush of your knee against his under the desk. He told himself it was unintentional until you shifted just enough to press against him more deliberately. His gaze flicked to you, but you were already pulling out your parchment, looking perfectly innocent.

When Professor Ronen began the lecture, Sebastian attempted to focus. It lasted all of five minutes before you leaned toward him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Your concentration is admirable, really,” you whispered, the soft warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His quill faltered mid-stroke, leaving a jagged mark across the parchment. He turned his head, intending to glare at you, but you were already sitting back, your expression unreadable as you scribbled down notes, head tilted in concentration, the very picture of academic diligence. But then he felt it—your hand, light as a feather, brushing against his thigh under the table. His breath hitched. You didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, your quill kept moving steadily across the parchment as though you hadn’t just set his pulse racing.

Your fingers rested there for a moment, almost as if testing the waters, before you began to trace slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of his trousers. Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he gripped his quill. He tried to will himself to focus, to block out the sensation, but you didn’t stop. In fact, you leaned slightly closer, your arm brushing his as you added a flourish to your notes.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Sebastian glanced at you sharply, his eyes narrowing in warning, but you didn’t look at him. The only sign of your mischief was the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips.

His hand twitched, tempted to grab yours and stop you before you pushed him any further, but he knew better. Drawing attention to what you were doing would only give you more satisfaction. So instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned slightly away, his voice a hushed growl. “Behave.”

You finally turned to him, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seb,” you said, your tone sticky sweet. “I’m just taking notes.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and Sebastian let out a slow exhale. You were relentless, and this was only the beginning. He shifted slightly in his seat, praying for the class to end quickly before he did something that would land both of you in detention.

But then your hand slid higher, and all thoughts of self-control vanished in a haze of heat and frustration.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he muttered, his voice strained. His hand moved under the desk to still yours.

You leaned in slightly, your lips close to his ear. “What’s the fun in that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his quill. He managed to hold on until Professor Ronen called for the end of class . You finally withdrew your hand, gathering your things with a pleased smile that only deepened the blush on his cheeks.

When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Sebastian had convinced himself that you’d already done your worst for the day. Charms had been a test of endurance, but surely you couldn’t keep it up through another class—especially not with Professor Hecat keeping a watchful eye.

You slid into the seat next to him without a word, a soft hum of a tune under your breath as you unpacked your things. Sebastian didn’t miss the glint of mischief still lingering in your eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

Professor Hecat began the lesson with her usual briskness, outlining the day’s activity: practicing defensive and offensive spells in pairs.

Sebastian exhaled in relief. Partner work meant he could focus on the task at hand, and spell practice was something he excelled at. He cast a sidelong glance at you, waiting for the inevitable quip about how you’d wipe the floor with him. But instead, you gave him an easy smile, looking far too composed for his comfort.

“Alright, partner,” you said, drawing your wand and stepping into position across from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebastian smirked, eager to reclaim some sense of control after the morning’s torment. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to make the first move.

You raised your wand, your posture flawless, but before casting, you paused. “It’s so warm in here,” you murmured, loosening your tie and pulling it free with a casual flick. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse, fanning yourself with your hand. “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian stiffened, his smirk vanishing. “I—what?”

You gave him a pointed look, as if waiting for an answer, before shrugging lightly. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

He barely had time to blink before you cast Expelliarmus, your wand aimed with precision. The spell hit him squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. You grinned triumphantly as you caught it midair.

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, your voice light and smug.

Sebastian huffed, running a hand through his hair to buy himself a moment. “Not bad,” he echoed, stepping closer. “Now, hand it over.”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance. Instead of returning his wand immediately, you held it up, forcing him to move closer. “Come and get it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, closing the distance between you. His pulse quickened the moment he got close enough to take in the details: the faint flush across your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, and—Merlin help him—the open collar of your blouse that gave him a perfect view of your collarbones and just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, and that maddening smirk was still firmly in place. You smelled like your usual perfume, that subtle scent that had been driving him to distraction all day, mixed with the faintest trace of parchment and ink.

Sebastian’s hand shot out to take his wand, but you pulled it back at the last second, your smirk widening. “What’s the matter? You look a bit tense.”

He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. The air between you crackled with tension, and he was certain you could hear the rapid thud of his heartbeat. He locked eyes with you, his voice low and rough. “I’m starting to think you want me tense.”

You shrugged. "Not sure what you're talking about."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He reached for his wand again, his fingers brushing against yours as he finally pried it from your grip. For a moment, his hand lingered over yours, his thumb skimming the back of it before he pulled away.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if you can disarm me.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, gripping his wand tighter. Focus, he told himself, though it was easier said than done with the way you were looking at him—like you were daring him to lose control.

“All right,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

He raised his wand, channeling every ounce of his frustration into the spell. Expelliarmus! The red jet of light shot toward you, and your wand flew from your hand, clattering to the floor behind you.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Well done,” you said, your tone dripping with mock defeat. “I suppose I’ll have to get that.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as you turned and bent over to retrieve your wand, taking your sweet time as you reached for it. His gaze betrayed him, trailing down the curve of your back to your hips and further still. The hem of your skirt rode up as you bent, barely covering what it was meant to, and leaving absolutely nothing to Sebastian's already frazzled imagination.

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with an effort that felt almost physical. Merlin, you were going to kill him. He could already feel the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and he prayed to every deity he could name that no one else was paying attention.

When you straightened and turned back to him, wand in hand, your smirk was firmly in place.

“Enjoy the view?” you asked, tilting your head as if the question were perfectly innocent.

Sebastian couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him as he stepped closer again, his voice a quiet warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

Your grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Is that a threat?”

For a split second, he considered saying something that would wipe that smirk off your face, but Professor Hecat’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Back to your positions!” she barked, her gaze darting between the two of you. “Focus, Mr. Sallow, Miss—”

“Yes, Professor,” Sebastian said quickly, stepping back and trying to calm his racing heart. But as he moved into position, he could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, and the image of your teasing smirk was seared into his mind.

He was barely holding it together, and the day was far from over. But surely, over lunch and surrounded by friends, he’d have some semblance of a reprieve. You wouldn’t dare push things in front of an audience—or so he hoped.

He slid into a seat beside Ominis, who was already stirring a bowl of soup to cool it off. Garreth and Natty sat across from them, deep in a lively debate about the Honeydukes confections.

Sebastian exhaled a small sigh of relief as you arrived a few moments later, seating yourself between Natty and Garreth across from him. You greeted everyone cheerfully, plucking a goblet of pumpkin juice from the table with your usual grace. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian thought he might actually survive the meal unscathed.

He was wrong.

You reached for the fruit platter in front of you, selecting a piece of pineapple and popping it into your mouth with a content hum. Sebastian caught himself watching the way your lips curled around your fingers, quickly tearing his gaze away as heat crept up his neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. You noticed, of course, and your eyes gleamed with mischief as you plucked another piece of pineapple, holding it up thoughtfully.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone far too casual, “do you eat pineapple often?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, not really. Why?”

You shrugged, biting into the pineapple and chewing slowly before answering. “Oh, it’s just something I read once. Supposedly, it makes… certain things taste better.”

The words hung in the air for a split second before their meaning hit him like a Stupefy spell. His jaw dropped, and he felt the heat in his cheeks spread like wildfire.

Garreth, who had been mid-sip of pumpkin juice, choked and started coughing, his face contorted with suppressed laughter. Natty’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth with her hand, a muffled giggle escaping. Even Ominis, usually the picture of composure, pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frozen, torn between mortification and the desperate urge to throttle you—or kiss you senseless. “You—” he spluttered, his voice low and strained. “You can’t just—why would you—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s just a question. I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Sebastian echoed, his voice a growl. His grip tightened on his goblet, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself, and went back to your meal as if nothing had happened. Garreth finally managed to stop coughing, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Sebastian, you’re as red as my tie.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at him before shooting you a dark look.

Ominis sighed again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Do the two of you ever give it a rest? Some of us are trying to eat in peace.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his plate. You, meanwhile, continued to eat with maddening grace, each bite more deliberate than the last. To anyone else, you seemed completely oblivious, but Sebastian knew better. The way your lips lingered on the edge of your goblet, how your tongue darted out to catch the stray drop of pumpkin juice, the slow way you licked your fingers after finishing a piece of fruit—it was all deliberate, and it was driving him insane.

When lunch finally ended, Sebastian practically leapt to his feet, eager to put some distance between you. But as the group began to disperse, you slipped up beside him, your hand brushing against his arm.

“What do you say we use our free period to get a head start on homework?” you suggested, your tone casual but your eyes sparkling with mischief. “The library’s quiet. Perfect for concentration.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Concentration, huh?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with faux innocence. “What else would we be doing?”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. The library it is.”

Sebastian trailed after you, already regretting his decision to agree to this “study session.” He wasn’t walking to his doom—not exactly—but it certainly felt like you were leading him into a trap he’d willingly sprung. Every step you took ahead of him, your hips swaying just enough to catch his attention, felt deliberate, and his patience was wearing thin.

When you reached the secluded table in the back of the library, you slid into a seat with a satisfied smile, glancing up at him as if daring him to sit across from you. Of course, he did—because, Merlin help him, no part of him could resist you, even when you were driving him out of his mind.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand, your voice laced with amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but quickly thought better of it, forcing himself to focus instead on pulling out his parchment and quill. He needed to get this essay done, fast—before you found another way to turn his brain to mush.

“Nothing,” he muttered, not looking up. “Let’s just work.”

You hummed in response, a light, teasing sound that sent a shiver down his spine. When he finally risked a glance at you, you were watching him with that knowing smirk, the one that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him—and you had no intention of stopping.

To your credit, the two of you did manage to work in relative silence for about an hour. It was a miracle, really, considering the way you had been tormenting him all day. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of pages filled the air, lulling Sebastian into a false sense of security. You even asked him a few legitimate questions about your arithmancy work, and he found himself easing into the rhythm of study.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

You tapped your quill against the edge of the table thoughtfully, drawing his attention as you tilted your head, a curious expression on your face. “Sebastian,” you said slowly, like you were turning something over in your mind.

He glanced up, cautiously optimistic that this might be a real question. “What?”

“If you cast Levioso on something heavy enough, do you think there’s a weight limit?”

Sebastian frowned, considering. “There’s a theoretical limit, I suppose. It depends on the skill of the caster and the strength of the enchantment. Why?”

You propped your chin in your hand as you gestured toward the sturdy oak table in front of you. “Can you cast it on objects to make them stronger, or is that a separate charm altogether?"

Sebastian blinked at you, trying to gauge where this was going. Your expression was innocent enough—curious, thoughtful—but he’d spent far too much time with you to let his guard down completely.

“That’s a separate charm,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Reinforcement charms can strengthen objects, but Levioso isn’t meant for that. It’s just levitation.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. “Makes sense,” you mused. “I was just thinking… these tables have probably been here for decades, maybe centuries."

Sebastian frowned, unsure where your train of thought was leading. “I suppose so. Why?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with a mischief he recognized all too well. “Oh, no reason,” you said lightly, waving a hand. “I was just wondering how much weight they could handle. You know, hypothetically.”

The room seemed to still as your words hung in the air, and Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His quill froze mid-scratch, and he stared at you, his mind racing to keep up.

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, his voice flat, though his pulse was anything but.

"You know," You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with an air of nonchalance that was completely at odds with the gleam in your eyes. "Like the weight of two people."

Sebastian stared at you, half-convinced he was hallucinating. You were far too composed for someone who had just casually suggested something so completely inappropriate in the middle of the bloody library, yet here you were, twirling your quill like the picture of innocence. He wanted to say something clever, something sharp that would throw you off your game, but his mind was stuck on one thing.

Two people. This table.

Sebastian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his quill, his patience dangling by a thread. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, and you noticed, of course. You always noticed. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, that faint smirk tugging at your lips—you were daring him to lose control, and you both knew it.

But Sebastian was stubborn, if nothing else. He forced his gaze back down to his parchment, his quill scratching out nonsense as he tried to focus on anything other than the absurdly inappropriate image you’d planted in his head.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, your tone as innocent as ever, “I've had enough of arithmancy for the day. What was the essay prompt again for potions? Something about brewing methods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The efficacy of different brewing techniques for enhancing potion potency.”

“Right,” you said, nodding thoughtfully, a contemplative look crossing your face. “Hm… I think I know a book that covers this. It talks about how it’s all in the measurements. Every little thing has to be just right. You’ve got to be so careful with how deep you’re going in, or… well, the whole thing can become quite explosive."

Sebastian’s quill snapped in half.

He froze, staring down at the broken pieces in his hands as if they might somehow offer an escape from this torment. But when he looked up, your smirk was waiting for him, smug and triumphant.

“Oops,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “Did I say something distracting?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling by the second. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he growled, his voice low and tense.

“Do I?” you replied, feigning innocence. But the glint in your eye betrayed you. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surely you'll get top marks on this essay... I think you know exactly how deep to go."

Sebastian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a heat that made your smirk falter for the first time all day.

“Outside. Now,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise, but the flicker of excitement in your expression didn’t escape him. You opened your mouth to say something—no doubt another teasing remark—but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he warned, cutting you off. “Just move.”

For once, you complied without argument, though the playful sway of your hips as you walked ahead of him made it clear you weren’t done yet.

Sebastian followed close behind as you weaved through the bookshelves, his chest tight with frustration and something far more dangerous. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally got you alone—but he knew he couldn’t take another second of this.

“You’ve been playing games all day,” he growled as you walked, his voice low and rough. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I’d just let it slide?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’ve been perfectly well-behaved.”

Sebastian grabbed your wrist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your jaw. “Well-behaved?” he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been driving me mad. Every look, every word, every touch—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before pinning you with a glare. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Without another word, he turned sharply, dragging you through the corridors at a pace that made it clear his patience had completely run out.

You didn’t protest, your steps falling into sync with his as he led you toward the one place he knew you’d have privacy: the Undercroft.

When you finally reached the hidden entrance, Sebastian didn’t even bother with his usual careful precision. He muttered the incantation quickly, his voice rough with impatience, and the hidden door swung open. He tugged you inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud that echoed in the quiet, secluded space.

The silence hung for a moment, broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths as Sebastian turned to face you. His gaze was dark, intense, and utterly consuming as he stepped closer, backing you up until your spine pressed against the cool stone wall.

“Do you think this is a joke?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with frustration and something far more primal. His hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

Your smirk returned. “I think you’re overreacting,” you replied, your tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. “All I did was—”

“All you did,” he interrupted sharply, his other hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “was make me spend the entire day trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You didn’t back down, even as his chest brushed yours. “I was just having fun."

“Fun?” Sebastian echoed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “You think driving me mad was fun?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “I think you like it."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to reach its breaking point. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a deceptively soft gesture that made your breath hitch. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “But don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to pay for every second of torture you put me through today.”

Your smirk widened, and you leaned up to brush your lips against his, your voice a teasing whisper against his mouth. “Promise?”

Sebastian’s answering smile was dark and full of intent as he guided you toward the sofa. “Oh, you have no idea.”

[jungwnies]

tamed - max verstappen (3/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : a viral pr blunder transforms your tense relationship with max verstappen into unexpected camaraderie and playful banter

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor ୨ৎ : tws : workplace stress, social media anxiety, mentions of conflict, light teasing ୨ৎ : wc : 990

part one | part two | part three | part four | epilogue

a/n: a rare wednesday post ...

You burst into Max's office, a whirlwind of apologies and self-recrimination ready to tumble out of your mouth. You'd planned for a tough conversation, a verbal lashing, maybe even a resignation letter slapped on his desk. But the scene that greets you is far from the anticipated storm.

Max isn't a raging bull, red-faced and furious. Instead, he's leaning back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, and the sound of his laughter echoes through the room. It's a rich, genuine sound that you haven't heard from him before, and it throws you completely off balance.

"I can't believe you actually did it," he manages to say between chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "You actually posted that photo."

You stand frozen, your carefully rehearsed apologies dissolving on your tongue. "You're not… mad?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, still fighting back a grin. "At first, I was. But then…" He trails off, tapping his phone screen and turning it towards you.

Your stomach clenches as you see the offending photo – the one of him mid-sneeze, looking like he'd just been startled by a ghost – plastered across his Instagram feed. But then you notice the caption: "Thanks to my amazing PR team for capturing my best side. 😂 #SneezyMax #Blessed."

Below the photo, a torrent of comments has erupted. You scroll through them, your initial horror giving way to surprised laughter. The internet has, as it often does, taken your epic PR fail and turned it into a meme-worthy masterpiece.

Daniel Ricciardo: "Mate, you look like you just smelled a dirty diaper! 😂"

Charles Leclerc: "This is my new phone wallpaper. Merci, Y/n!"

Lando Norris: "Sneezy Max is my new favorite superhero. 🤧💪"

George Russell: "I'm framing this and putting it in my living room."

Lewis Hamilton: "This is the best thing I've seen all week. 😂"

Pierre Gasly: "I knew I should have taken that photo when I had the chance!"

Even your own colleagues have joined in on the fun.

Sergio Perez: "Hey Max, next time you sneeze, try to aim it at Hamilton! 😉"

Christian Horner: "Y/n, you're a legend. 😂 (But please don't do it again.)"

You're laughing so hard tears prick your eyes. You can't believe that this PR disaster has turned into a viral sensation.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Max says, his grin widening. "You always did have a terrible sense of humor."

You manage a sheepish smile. "I thought it was funny."

"It was," he admits, his eyes twinkling. "But I'm still going to get you back for this. Just so you know, this isn't over."

The playful threat hangs in the air, a silent agreement that this is far from the end of your unexpected feud.

The following weeks see a noticeable shift in your dynamic with Max. The icy glares melt into amused smirks, the sarcastic jabs morph into playful banter. You find yourself looking forward to your meetings, even the ones where he inevitably grumbles about the "stupid PR stuff" you make him do. You start noticing things you hadn't before – the way his eyes crinkle when he genuinely smiles, the surprisingly deep dimples that appear when he laughs, the way his voice softens when he talks about his family.

One afternoon, he surprises you by inviting you to join him in the paddock during a practice session.

"Come on," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll introduce you to the guys. They're dying to meet the person who turned me into a meme."

You hesitate, a flicker of nervousness in your chest. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Why not? It'll be fun. Besides," he adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "they won't stop asking about you."

Intrigued, you follow him into the bustling heart of the Formula 1 world. The paddock is a sensory overload – the roar of engines, the smell of burnt rubber, the sight of mechanics swarming around cars like worker bees.

Max leads you through the maze of garages, introducing you to the other drivers with a casual ease that surprises you. Daniel Ricciardo greets you with a bone-crushing hug and a booming "G'day, mate!" Charles Leclerc, with his charming accent and impeccable manners, compliments your "excellent taste in humor." Lando Norris, ever the prankster, tries to take a selfie with you and Max, only to have Max swat his phone away with a playful scowl.

"Don't you have a simulator to be messing around with?" Max grumbles, earning a chorus of laughter from the other drivers.

As you navigate the paddock, you notice the curious glances and whispered comments. You can't help but feel a sense of pride. You've not only tamed the beast, but you've also earned the respect of his peers.

Later that evening, as you're reviewing some social media analytics, Max walks into your office.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "I just wanted to say thanks."

You look up, surprised. "For what?"

"For everything," he says, a rare sincerity in his voice. "For putting up with me, for making me look good, for… well, for being you."

He hesitates, then adds, "You know, you're not so bad for a PR person."

You laugh, a genuine warmth spreading through you. "And you're not so bad for a driver."

He smirks. "I know."

He turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and one more thing," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm still going to get you back for that photo."

You smile, a playful challenge in your voice. "I'd expect nothing less."

As he walks away, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. You're not sure what the future holds for you and Max, but you know one thing for sure: this is just the beginning of a very interesting ride.

taglist: @residentdemonhunter , @nctislifue , @kqliie , @loveitwhenhelies , @edgyficuselastica , @chirasama , comment to be added

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