#also this was not supposed to be this long
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
zoe-oneesama · 10 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Kwamis! Some of these came easier than others, but since Angelic Layer has no magic involved, all the kwamis became human~ They won't be very prevalent, they're mostly here to fill in background character roles - shop clerks, MCs Tournament Directors, fans - so they won't have a whole lot of speaking roles (aside from, you know, the MCs who're there to commentate on the fights lol). But I thought I'd give them all a nice nod in the story somewhere.
Tumblr media
As expected, Tikki and Plagg are the main MCs. Marinette and Adrien's fights will be going on concurrently so Tikki will be commentating Marinette's fights while Plagg commentates on Adrien's. They'll have the most dialogue of the kwamis, so I do want them to have unique ways of discussing what they're seeing.
Pollen will be working directly for the Bourgeois'. As a VIP with a direct relationship with the international director of Angelic Layer, Chloe has her own private practice layer in her home and Pollen is in charge of it's upkeep and maintenance. She matches Armand the Bulter's levels of competence.
Trixx is a Rena Rouge mega fan. They've been following Alya's blog for as long as they can remember and are mega stoked that Alya moved to their city. When Alya starts to doubt herself, it's Trixx's voice that can be heard cheering her on to not give up.
Nooroo and Duusu are servants in the Agreste Estate. Unknown to Adrien, they are fully aware of his sneaking around to play and the two do what they can to make excuses and deflect Nathalie when Adrien isn't where he's supposed to be. They're rooting him on from the shadows!
Wayzz is the adult son of Marianne and Fu. He brings them to Angelic Layer fights against his will because the two really enjoy them. The two seem to be really invested in Ladybug and Chat Noir's career (and the behind the scenes shenanigans that they secretly spy on).
Tumblr media
Longg is Kagami's bodyguard. Like Nooroo and Duusu, they are fully aware of what Kagami is doing behind her mother's back and feigns ignorance when Kagami pulls something..."sneaky" to get to a fight secretly.
Here's where we get into some existing jobs from the show:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Orikko and Kaalki are the "Layer Hot Girls (and boy)". lol I just thought it was funny that Angelic Layer even has them.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mullo is the sales clerk at the Princess Piffle store (the store where you can buy your Angel and all the accessories). All of them lol. Mullo and her many many sisters who look just like her.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Barkk and Fluff take similar but still different roles (the uniforms are ALMOST the same but there are some tiny differences). So Barkk is the receptionist at the Practice Ring (literally you pay to reserve a mini-layer to practice on) while Fluff is the waitress/cashier at the cafeteria at the Tournament Center.
Tumblr media
(and back to making shit up lol)
Daizzi is a nurse where Rose goes to the hospital and she has segmental localized vitiligo. Rose is particularly close to Daizzi since she helps Rose make her donations to the hospital.
Sass is the backstage directory, aka, the guy who makes things run. He has an earpiece that has the same diamond pattern as his pants on it! The anime does show one person who helps backstage, but I wanted to have a little fun with Sass's look and tie in to him being "in charge" of the kwamis.
Ziggy works at Socqueline's family art supply shop, which is frequented by Angelic Layer players who are on a bit of a budget. They love talking with the customers about their angels, though mostly the design part.
Stompp is Ivan's foster mother and Roarr his foster sister (Stompp's bio-daughter). I actually didn't think of what kind of job this outfit would be good for, but I think she'd make a good security guard - usually working at rock concerts, which she bonds with Ivan over, but she's also been hired for Angelic Layer tournaments. Sometimes sore losers get a little...violent.
Roarr falls in love with Juleka's Angel Purple Tigress immediately thanks to her pre-existing love of tigers in general. She's even bold enough to proclaim her love to Juleka herself!
Xuppu is Ondine's sibling and a fan of King Monkey, though they'll go out of their way to make fun of Kim himself. Secretly, they're very invested in Kim's career and get very upset on his behalf when he loses.
784 notes · View notes
prael · 1 day ago
Text
An Oral Agreement
QWER Magenta x male reader
Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)
Tumblr media
She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.
Magenta.
No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).
She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.
Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.
There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.
Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.
Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.
When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?
Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.
You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.
You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.
"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.
With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.
She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.
"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."
Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"
"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."
Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.
"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."
"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.
"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"
So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.
"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.
"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."
Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).
"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.
Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"
With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.
-
It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.
You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.
That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.
One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?
Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!
When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.
Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.
"There you are. Where have you been?"
"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.
"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."
It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.
"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.
"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."
"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.
She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.
It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.
Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.
With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.
"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.
Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.
She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.
The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.
"You're so sexy like this," you say.
The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.
With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.
Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—
You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.
"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.
Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.
You want her tits.
She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.
She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.
It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.
As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.
"What?" you ask.
"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."
So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.
The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?
At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.
And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.
"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."
That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.
"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.
After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.
"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.
"What about it?"
"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"
"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."
Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."
That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"
Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."
493 notes · View notes
babyleostuff · 1 day ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
― FIRST SNOW
there is a superstition that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you like, true love will blossom between both and it will be long-lasting.
𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, cuddly and in love love gyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!mingyu x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 518
💌 natalia’s note: ik it may be a bit early for winter fics but recently we had first snow in poland and i just had this urge to write something about it [edit: and now korea also had its first snow so yippie]
Tumblr media
“look!” 
you hummed and nodded weakly, though instead of opening your eyes you snuggled further into mingyu's warm chest, basking in the softness of his sweater and the steady beat of his heart underneath your ear. 
days off were the best. 
“baby,” your boyfriend murmured excitedly against your temple and ran his cold finger along your cheek. “it’s snowing!” 
with mingyu’s arm holding your waist in a tight grip; not that you complained, the afternoon teddy bear cuddles, especially in the colder weather were the best, it was a bit difficult for you to actually move to see the supposed snow. 
“it’s so pretty,” he said in awe, as if it was his first time seeing it. “look, look!” he said and pointed at the window that was behind you.
“gyu?” you mumbled and propped yourself on his chest as much as you could. “i’d really love to see it, but you’re holding me hostage and my neck is too sore to turn it all the way around”. 
mingyu’s eyes widened, and a small pout appeared on his face. “oh shit, right. sorry.”
you cupped his chin and placed a kiss at the tip of his nose. "'s okay," you said, before sitting all the way up and turning around towards the window.
and your boyfriend was right. even though your view of the city below was very blurry due to mingyu's apartment being on a high floor, you could still imagine how pretty the streets must look now, covered in the white fluff. 
“i can’t wait to beat your ass in a snowball fight,” you said and turned back to your boyfriend. 
you weren’t sure if it was due to the bad lightning, since mingyu insisted on turning all the lights off and lightning some candles, but you could’ve sworn he was blushing, but before you could ask him about that he took a hold of your hand and pulled you back to his chest. 
“you know what the first snow means, right?” he asked after a beat of silence. 
nodding, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face. 
“we’ve been together for five years, gyu. i don’t think that superstition counts for us anymore.” 
he hummed and nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head. “maybe,” he said. “but i like to believe that every first snowfall we witness in this life will allow us to meet our next ones,” you felt his hand brush the hair from your neck in a gentle manner, “and i hope to witness as many of them as we can.” 
not really knowing what to say, because who the hell says things like that, you lifted your head from the crook of mingyu’s neck and looked at his ruffled dark hair and shiny brown eyes that were looking at you with more love than it should be legal. 
“you’re impossible, kim mingyu,” you shook your head with a laugh. 
all you got in response was an irresistibly devastating grin, before he leaned in and sealed your lips in a kiss that could melt any amount of snow.
Tumblr media
taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo
584 notes · View notes
landopoet · 2 days ago
Text
high enough.
Tumblr media
pairing lando x piastri!reader
warnings drug use, smut
playlist so high - doja cat / slow down - chase atlantic / friends - chase atlantic / sex money feelings die - lykke li / the morning - the weeknd / cherry hill - russ
synopsis it’s not everyday you get to see your brother’s teammate take not only the edge off, but also your clothes.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
You watched as the smoke rose to the ceiling after the soft puff past your lips. The swirling of smoke hypnotised you, before it twirled and disappeared into nothing.
The joint burned between your fingers when you passed it to Lando. “You have a few puffs left.”
Lando was completely out of it, practically melting into the couch when he mindlessly lifted his arm and softly plucked the joint from your fingers. You turned your head and watched as he brought it to his lips, taking a long drag before pulling the burning bud away from his face.
He could feel your gaze on him, burning about five times as hot as the smoke in his lungs. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t like you staring when all he’s been thinking of was making your eyes roll back into your head. The image of you sprawled across the couch, his lips soaked in you and moans leaving your mouth was enough to make him go crazy.
“You’re taking too long,” you rush him. He turns his head to you, half-lidded eyes hiding so much more than what he lets you see. You could look at those green hues forever, but the soft pull of his lips pulls you back into reality. Or as much of it as you can comprehend in this state.
Lando motions to the joint in his fingers. “You want another hit?”
“Yeah,” you nod, about to take the bud from his hand before he pulls it to his mouth and takes a long drag. “What the–”
Your question gets interrupted when Lando’s hand firmly grips the back of your head and pulls your face in. When he blows the smoke out, you’re quick to understand what he’s doing and suck the smoke in.
Lando smiled to himself as he pulled away, watching how starstruck you were by what he just did.
Even though all he meant to do was to shotgun smoke into your mouth, you can’t help but pull him in to close the gap between your lips. The urge to kiss him was too much to handle for you, even when sober, but the confidence to finally kiss him came when being inebriated.
Lando can’t deny that he’s been thinking the same— he’s been pondering the thought of kissing your lips way before you decided to smoke. He’s been waiting for you to make the first move, knowing you definitely would at some point, and he wasn’t wrong.
Smoke left the crevices forming between your lips as you moulded against one another, hungry hums and whimpers already leaving your throats. Lando’s hands softly pulled your hips closer to him until you ended up in his lap.
The mere feeling of you sat on him, already pulsing against him, had his mind reeling. You felt him hardening underneath you, perfectly slotting his boner against your clothed entrance.
You smirked into the kiss, a single thought popping into your head— teasing him.
The two of you had made a deal. You’d spend some time together, just as friends, before trying to be in a relationship. That seemed to work, for about three weeks, until this night when you invited Lando to hang out. It was supposed to be nothing but you watching a movie together, until you remembered the leftover weed in your grinder.
You remember the light in his eyes when he heard you mention weed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any,” he said. But you promised to take care of him.
And take care of him you will.
Lando’s mind is a mush, any movement he makes feels like he’s slowed down or like it’s missing frames, so he doesn’t understand that you’re softly rocking your hips against him until he feels the need to fuck you again.
“Love,” his raspy voice whispers against your numb lips, fingers digging into your skin to stop your movements. “What’re you doing?”
“Hm?” You pull away, softly biting your lips as your hands brace you against his chest, hips stilling above his dick. “What do you mean?”
You watch as his lips pull into a smirk again. “Don’t play stupid,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you want me to fuck you, just say that.”
The tone of his voice mixed with the haze settling in your mind just after that last puff of smoke you had is making you think less and do more. Instead of answering him, you crash your lips onto his again and subconsciously go back to rocking your hips again.
He smirks against your mouth, guiding your hips to grind harder against him. You whimper and he catches the noise with his mouth, tongue swirling against yours when you wrap your fingers softly around the base of his neck.
Lando’s hands softly tug on the waistband of your sweatpants. “Take them off.”
You hum, lips still connected to him as you lift yourself up and tug your pants down. They pool at your knees, you still straddling Lando. “Can’t do it.”
“You want me to do it for you?” He asks, more of a mock than a laugh leaving his mouth. When you nod, eyes still half-lidded and examining him, he lays you down with your head on the armrest of the couch. You watch carefully as he softly tugs your sweatpants lower, before completely tugging them off your body.
Lando sits back, hands on your knees as he memorises the view of you— underwear soaked with your need for him, sticking to the curves of your pussy so perfectly that it leaves little to the imagination.
“Can I?” Lando asks, fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You nod, like you’ve been doing for pretty much this whole exchange, and he can’t help but beg you to speak. “You gotta use your words, baby.”
“Please,” you beg, voice hushed as if you’re scared anyone in your empty house would hear you. “Touch me, I need you.”
Lando laughed, almost pitifully at your state as he pulled the panties down your legs, agonisingly slow. You were too high to function enough, so your plea for him to move faster came out as an annoyed grumble.
“Impatient much?” Lando laughed, hands softly dragging their way up your legs from your ankles. When he notices the lack of response from you, he stills. “You okay? How do you feel?”
“I’m good,” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to look up at his worried eyes. “But you could make me feel much better.”
You smile at the return of his smirk. You’ve grown quite fond of it, getting used to the look of his dimples returning. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. Are you sure you want this, though? You know what Osc would do if he found out.”
“But he won’t,” you bite back a smirk of your own, propping yourself up on your elbows. “He doesn’t have to know about everything I do.”
“Atta girl.” He smiles before positioning himself between your legs. “Lean back and relax for me, pretty.”
You do as told, laying back on the couch and looking up at the ceiling. It took you a moment to realise that he was just looking at you, admiring the view in front of him.
It’s exactly what he imagined. He couldn’t help but watch as your chest rose and fell with fast-paced breaths, anticipation creeping up your spine with each moment. It took everything he had in him not to fuck you right then and there.
Instead, he dragged his tongue through your folds, the taste of you being almost as satisfying than what he thinks fucking you will feel like. Lando wants to take it easy and make the most of your high, so that’s exactly what he’ll do.
It doesn’t take long before he hears the pretty moans fall from your lips at the mere contact of his tongue on your clit. He circles it, gently sucking on it and you feel like you’re floating in space, so relaxed and pleased that it’s almost too much to take.
“Taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your body. You felt some pressure on your clit, his tongue circling it again.
Jagged breaths leave your lips, the feeling of his lips softly suckling on you mixed with the buzz from the joint tipped you over the edge way sooner than you’d expect. You felt the euphoria was over you as he still flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud.
“Lan,” you murmur, fingers somehow in his hair and tugging hard on it. You felt the pattern of his curls embrace your fingers as you arched your back, almost pulling away from him.
Lando wouldn’t have that. His hands firmly gripped your hips and pinned them down. Instead of letting you squirm away, he forced his tongue onto your clit harder, using the base of it to get as much surface area as he can get.
You felt dizzy. It’s the first time you’ve done anything sexual while high and it was better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You almost feel numb, as if you were melting into the couch.
Lando felt your hips tense in his hands, knowing you’re close to tipping over the edge, so he does what he promised you he’d do. He makes you feel the fucking best.
His tongue licks you like he’s a starved man, thirsty for anything he can get his pretty little lips on. And it just so happened to be you.
Lando basks in the pretty whimpers leaving your mouth and the flavour of you on his tongue, not noticing how he let one of his hands travel down to his dick. He palms himself through the fabric of his grey sweatpants, a wet spot already evident.
You feel him moan into your pussy, sending that last nervous impulse that makes you finish all over his mouth. He laps you up, satisfied groans and moans escaping between shallow breaths.
Lando keeps his lips on your skin, kissing your thighs before softly biting them. He mumbles something to you but you can’t hear, too busy looking at the pathetic mess of a man at the end of the couch— sloppily marking your thighs while he continues to palm himself.
“Let me help you,” you whisper and he whips his head up. You watch as he sits up, tugging his sweats down and leaving his boxers on.
Lando watches as you straddle his thighs and softly tug down the Jack&Jones waistband of his boxers. He hisses when his dick flings up and slaps against his clothed abdomen.
It’s your turn to hear the string of curse words and moans leave his mouth as you drag his tip across your folds before sinking onto him, his dick filling you up in just the right way.
“Fuck, baby,” he hums contently, one of his hands palming the back of your neck before he pulls you in for a kiss. “You take me so well, so fucking well.”
You whimper into his mouth, slowly moving your hips after getting used to the size of him. His breath hitches, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you sink back onto him again.
The pace of you riding him quickens in no time, the noise of skin-on-skin contact filling up the empty space of your room.
Lando’s fingers tangle in your hair as he turns your head to the side, lips making a trail of kisses down from your jaw and ending at your collarbone, with the occasional hickey or nibble between kisses.
“Lando,” you moan his name the second you make contact with your clit, lazily rubbing it to match the pace of your hips clashing against his.
His lips make contact with yours again, kissing you with an aggression you’ve never felt before. It was borderline addicting, kissing you. Like a drug Lando knows he would never stop taking.
“You sound so pretty moaning my name,” he mumbles between kisses, not long before his tongue tastes your mouth again.
“I’m close,” you whine, arm tired from rubbing your clit. Lando notices the twitch of your hand and takes over, his thumb matching the pace you had set before.
His hips buckle and a knot forms in your lower belly at the feeling of him pulsing even deeper inside you, your walls embracing his length perfectly. “Me too. Think you can gimme another one?”
“Mhm,” you nod, eagerly. “Please.”
“You don’t have to beg for me to make you cum, princess.” His mocking tone soothes your ears. It’s quite an opposite feeling from the harsh grip he has on your hip with his left hand, the other still toying your throbbing clit.
It’s a few seconds before you feel a warmth filling you up, a string of moans and curses leaving Lando’s lips. It doesn’t take long for you to do the same, head tilted back and chest heaving with hasty breaths and an unsteady heartbeat.
Lando’s hands still guide your hips for a bit longer, before coming to a halt. The green in his eyes traces all over your face, looking for a sign of anything negative. Instead he finds that you’re grinning.
“You good?” He asks, fingers softly tucking the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead.
“Never been better,” you reciprocate the same thing, playing with the curls at the front of his head. “But you fucked me so good I’m not high anymore.”
“Want me to roll another one?”
“No,” you lean in and close the gap between your lips. “Kissing you gets me high enough.”
© all rights reserved.
525 notes · View notes
lovedrruunk · 3 days ago
Text
'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part ii]
When the mysterious new girl in town makes a lasting first impression, you make it your goal to befriend and welcome her to the town. [Part i] playlist!!!
self deprecating stalker jinx ill luv u 4eva & eva & eva...
Tumblr media
"Hey."
"Hi!"
“. . .”
“. . . ?”
“. . .”
“. . . ???”
You blinked, waiting for her to say literally anything else, but nope. Just “hey.” and now she was standing there, looking like she was on the verge of shitting her pants while you wondered if this was how all her conversations went.
Surprisingly you didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable, more so confused. Looking around, your eyes landed on your old neighbor who’s own eyes were on the girl in front of you. He was giving her this look of judgment. It wasn’t obvious or harsh but it was still there. And then it clicked.
This was her.
The newcomer who moved into that old cottage on the outskirts of town. The one Mrs. Van Dee Kamp couldn’t stop speculating about, the one Mr. Gallagher said “looked like trouble”, and the same one you were so curious about. 
It wasn’t long before your group started to shuffle awkwardly, clearly ready to move on. They glanced at her, the kind of quick, hesitant looks people gave when they didn’t want to seem rude but also didn’t want to linger. One by one, they made their excuses, mumbling something about needing to get back to their stalls. They took a couple of steps away, looking back once they realized you weren’t following.
“I’ll catch up with you guys later!” you called, waving them off.
Turning back, you realized she was already staring at you, her wide pink eyes locked onto yours like you’d just caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
“Hi!” you started... for the second time now.
“Uh… yeah.” she said, her voice flat as if responding to a completely different conversation.
Not exactly the warmest start, but you continued. “You’re new in town right? People have been talking, but you know, nothing bad! They’re just curious.”
Her eyes glanced left then right as you were talking, like she was scanning for an exit. “Yeah. New.”
You tilted your head. “Well, welcome. I’m–”
“Okay.” she cut you off, her tone abrupt.
“...Okay?” you repeated, blinking.
“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.”
Before you could say another word, she spun on her heel and started walking… no, speed-walking, towards the dirt path that lead into the forest.
You stood there, frozen, your brain scrambling to process what had just happened. Did she seriously just… run away? Mid-conversation?
It took you a solid few seconds to realize your jaw was hanging open. Shutting it quickly, you looked around, half expecting someone to jump out with a camera and tell you that you that it was a prank.
But no. The mysterious girl who had everyone talking had just bolted, leaving you standing there like an idiot.
And for some reason, instead of being offended, you couldn’t help but laugh.
Who was she? And what kind of person walked away from a perfectly normal greeting? Mind you, a greeting she had started. You didn’t know why, but suddenly, you were dying to find out.
. . .
This feeling wasn’t technically new.
For weeks, you’d felt it, that weird sensation on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. At first, it had been easy to ignore. You told yourself it was just your brain playing tricks. It was harmless. Whatever.
But now? Not so much.
The feeling wasn’t just there when you stood still like it was before, it followed you now. Around the market, down quiet streets, even when you stopped to chat with neighbors. You’d catch glimpses, a blur of blue hair disappearing behind a corner, the faintest sound of boots on the gravel.
More than once, you were so sure you’d catch them. You’d spin around at the sound of a shuffle or a shadow that felt too close. But by the time you looked? Nothing. Just an empty alley or a completely innocent looking street lamp.
It was driving you nuts.
You didn’t have to guess who it was either. You knew it was her. The girl from the square, Powder, or whatever her name really was. The way she’d bolted last time you tried to talk to her? That had to mean something.
Now it wasn’t just about being watched. It was about her. What was her deal? Why was she sneaking around? Why couldn’t she just talk to you?
You're own feelings about the situation were confusing you. You didn't necessarily... mind it. Unlike the other townsfolk, you didn't see her as a threat. She didn't seem like the type who would go out of her way to harm you. So 'why' was the question, and you were determined to figure it out.
Every time you caught a glimpse of her, something tugged at you. It wasn’t just the mystery of it all, though that was definitely part of it. There was something about her, it's like she didn't want to be seen yet wanted all of your attention.
And you wanted to know why. Why so secluded? Why so interested in your mundane countryside life?
It wasn’t like the townsfolk were any help either. They whispered about her, sure, 'the new girl with the blue hair and the weird vibes' but that’s all they did. Whispers. Speculation. None of them had actually tried to get to know her as far as you could tell.
Which left it to you.
The more you thought about it, the more determined you got. You didn’t want to believe she was some big, bad menace just because she didn’t fit into their little box of what people here were 'supposed' to be like. She was human, and just as deserving of a community as anyone else. So, yeah, you had questions.
And, apparently, she had no intention of giving you any answers.
It was almost funny how good she was at avoiding you. You’d be walking down the street, sure you'd spotted her near the bakery, and then poof. Gone. Like she had been a figment of your imagination. It was starting to feel like a game, except you knew something she didn't. How to cheat.
. . .
“Alright, I know you’re in there!” you yelled, leaning closer to the door as your fist continued to bang on the wood. “You can’t hide forever!”
Silence.
You squinted at the cottage, the place looked... interesting. It was still that run down creepy cottage you remembered always seeing whenever you passed by, but it was strangely... lively. Big scraps of metal and parts outside, colorful flowers (although wilted), and colorful graffiti that seemed to cover every side.
Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you knocked again harder, this time raising your voice. “I’m not leaving until you open this door!”
Still nothing.
“Powder! Or... whatever your name is!” you shouted, hoping the use of her name might get a reaction.
From inside, you swore you heard a faint creak. A floorboard, maybe? It was hard to tell over the sound of your heart hammering in your ears. You leaned forward, pressing your ear to the door.
“I can hear you in there, you know.” you tried, softening your tone just a bit, stepping back from the door. “I’m not mad or anything. I just want to talk! That’s all.”
The silence that followed felt even more deafening than before. For a second, you wondered if you’d imagined the sound altogether.
And then, just as you were about to knock again, the door creaked open.
Barely.
A narrow space, enough for one pink eye to peek through.
“What do you want?” came a voice.
It wasn’t hostile exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either. Cautious. Suspicious.
You blinked, caught off guard by just how intense her gaze was up close.
“Uh, hi?” you started, scrambling for words that didn’t sound totally ridiculous. “We’ve been running into each other a lot lately- well, okay, more like you’ve been running away- but I just wanted to…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t actually planned this far ahead.
Her eye narrowed slightly, not moving to open the door any wider.
“...check in?” you finally finished, wincing at your own words.
The door inched shut a little more.
“Wait, wait!” you said frantically as you held up your hands.
“I mean it! No tricks, no weird town gossip or whatever. I just… I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we maybe start over? I'd love to be friends.”
Her eye flicked to your hands, then back to your face. For a moment, you thought she was actually gonna let you in.
Instead, she sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
Her voice was quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Fear?
“Why not?” you asked gently, lowering your hands.
But she didn’t answer, instead she gave you this long silent look. And just as you were about to speak up again, the door shut and the bolt slid into place.
“Well, okay then.”
. . .
when i talk abt the town pls imagine a Minecraft village or something of the sort ...
this chapter was SOOOO SELF DIVULGENT btw lololol was totally laughing my ass off writing it. I hope the difference in the way i write their povs is noticeable!!! also its 2am rn ill make sure to proof read in the morning... maybe...
part 3 sometime this week probs! it'll go back to being in pows pov ≽^•⩊•^≼˚
notes r appreciated & thx 4 reading as aaalways XOXOXOXO
[Teensy taglist (ˊᗜˋ)]
@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed
440 notes · View notes
thatonebirdwrites · 11 hours ago
Text
Okay, the above is FANTASTIC. Definitely read it all!
The following is me expanding on the above for Science Fiction settings (and I suppose fantasy too).
If creating a futuristic or alien world, think less about what might "look cool" and more on what is actually practical for people (or aliens) to use.
Is the wheelchair easy to transfer into? As in move from a bed to the chair? Having arm rests that can move up and out of the way can help, leg rests that can be moved to one side to allow wheelchair to be pushed up closer, and other moveable parts.
Is it comfortable for the person? Do they need further cushioning or additions to stabilize parts of their bodies? Seatbelts to keep them in place? Tilt or reclining if unable to stay upright for long?
How will the wheelchair be transported over longer distances? Can it fold up easily?
Wheels need to be easy to push (for self-propelling chairs). This is why self-propelling chairs have a wheel design and don't something like tract wheels.
If a powered chair is needed, what type of joystick is best for maneuvering it? Is it easy to transfer in and out of without causing injuries? What is the top speed? (Don't make it too fast as that can cause injuries). Is it easy to replace the battery?
If this is a fantasy world with magic, how can magic improve the mobility of someone with a physical and/or energy-limited disease? Does magic power the wheelchair to move? Is there a joystick or some sort of activation the user does to start up the magic and control the movement of the chair?
Here's a good chart for what to consider when designing a wheelchair for a human. This can be adapted for aliens by considering the body parts of an alien in a similar manner:
Tumblr media
For an alien, think about how many appendages does the alien have and the shape/contours of the body:
Will it need arm rests for most of the upper body appendages?
What type of foot rests will they need for lower body appendages? (Is the feet or ends of appendages hooves? Human-like? webbed? Paws? Octopus-like? It can help to draw the appendage then draw ways to support it so it doesn't drag on the ground or get tangled up in other parts of the wheelchair.)
Does the alien have wings? If it can't fly due to wing injuries or defects, will they need a back designed with a holding spot for wings with cushioning for the back itself? (Try to avoid making "holes" for the wings since in an accident the surrounding parts of the wheelchair could collapse and slice the wings off.)
Does it have tails? Is there a holding spot for the tail that cushions it or allows movement? (Try to avoid designing a hole for the tail because in case of an accident, the back of the wheelchair could slice that tail off, which sounds painful).
How much core strength does the alien have? Such as in the torso or within its head supports (such as a neck)? Will it need braces for those parts to hold it up?
How much strength in its core (torso), appendages, etc. does the alien have? If it's missing strength in those areas, then will a powered version be needed if lacking the strength to self-propel?
This isn't comprehensive of course. Mostly questions to get people thinking.
Also, it's fine to ask me questions about this in asks. I love to worldbuild and talk shop like that. (Just don't ask me questions about how or why I am disabled. Focus on questions about worldbuilding and crafting characters. Thanks.)
Thanks for reading. And thank you to the OP for the awesome guide for present-day wheelchairs!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A guide to designing wheelchair using characters!
I hope this helps anyone who's trying to design their oc using a wheelchair, it's not a complete guide but I tried my best! deffo do more research if you're writing them as a character
109K notes · View notes
natalievoncatte · 23 hours ago
Text
“Today?” Kara said, “really?”
There was a silence in the house, as a pall had fallen over it. Everyone was gathered for the festivities and the turkey in the oven was filling the house with a delightful scent that made Lena’s mouth water. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the one day that Lena could forget about her waistline and just indulge herself. She’d been “helping” Eliza along with Alex and Kelly and Nia while the boys and Kara were out back tossing a football and pretending that she and J’onn didn’t have an outrageous advantage over Brainy and James.
Now Kara was standing in the living room as the news broke in over the football game and announced that a rampaging alien was tearing apart Rio de Janiero.
“Guys,” Kara said solemnly, “I have to go.”
Lena’s heart sank. She knew better than to protest. Kara had already glumly removed her glasses and was about to go grab her suit. Lena reached out and curled a hand around her bicep.
“Please be careful, darling.”
Lena could feel eyes on her back, Eliza and Alex and Nia all watching, silently urging one of them to just finally make a damned move. Lena *lived with her*, for God’s sake, and had since she sold her penthouse. They shared breakfasts and Kara gave her foot rubs and still they were stuck in this maddening limbo without defining what and who they were and it seemed neither dared to ask.
Lena knew what she wanted the answer to be, and how it ached inside her.
Kara glumly trudged down the stairs in full Supergirl regalia, regal and imposing as ever and just as beautiful. Since she’d revealed her identity to the world she’d been freed from the constraints of having to disguise herself, and a few months ago had buzzed the left side of her head, having trimmed the rest to shoulder length, and Lena longed to run her fingers over the fuzz.
She’d also altered her suit again. It no longer had sleeves. Every time Lena saw her, it felt like her soul was going to escape her body.
Kara came over and put her hands on Lena’s arms.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
Lena gulped down her anxiety.
“I can hear your heart, you know.”
“Just be careful. Please.”
Kara started to turn. Maybe it was the audience, maybe she was just tired of being mired in this thick tension between them. Maybe it was the wine. She grabbed Kara’s arm again and sprang forward to brush her lips against Kara’s cheek, dangerously close to Kara’s mouth.
“For luck.”
Kara’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Lena.
“I’ll be b-back,” she said, and swept out the door, cape billowing majestically.
God how Lena hated that cape, sometimes. It blocked the view.
What had been a festive gathering grew quiet. Everyone gathered around the television to see what was going on, save Eliza who politely excused herself to the kitchen, hiding tears that everyone politely ignored.
Lena joined her. She was making the gravy.
“A life of fighting isn’t what I wanted for her,” she said.
“Me either.”
They were alone in the kitchen and Eliza was whisking a roux as she waited for the raw flour smell to cook off.
“Lena, do you have feelings for my daughter?”
Lena swallowed hard, grabbing a knife to chop carrots for glazing so that she’d have something to occupy your hands.
Eliza’s voice was soft, something wistful in her eyes. “You must know how she feels about you.”
Lena had to stop to avoid slicing open her finger, almost feeling the touch of the blade. She cleared her throat.
“I do,” she admitted. “I very much do. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for years.”
Eliza nodded, utterly unsurprised. “Kara is very hesitant about delicate things. When she first started living with us, she used to rip doorknobs off and break things at random while she learned to control her powers. She’s probably told you about Streaky.”
“She has.”
Eliza began pouring stock into the pot, her whisk making soft scraping sounds.
“She’s still that way about everything. Afraid if she pushes too hard, she’ll break something.”
Lena nodded. It was at that moment that Alex stormed into the kitchen. “She’s back.”
Immediately, Lena rushed out into the living room. Kara trudged through the door, and sighed.
“He got a few good hits in but he’s contained.”
Lena could only stare. Her suit was covered in scorch marks and even worse, Kara was bruised, her knuckles especially battered. She smiled weakly.
“I just need a minute to clean up.”
With a deep sigh, Kara turned and headed upstairs.
Lena could feel the eyes on her before she glanced back. Eliza motioned a silent “Go”, and Lena went.
She knocked at the bathroom door.
“Lena?” said Kara.
She always knew. Super-senses.
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
Brief hesitation, then, “yes.”
Lena stepped inside and closed the door. Kara was washing her hands, the injuries already vanishing. Lena didn’t care. She took Kara’s hands anyway, gently washing them under warm water.
She then fumbled at the clasps and unhooked Kara’s cape, and folded it. It was surprisingly heavy, made of a dense material from her long lost home. Setting it aside, she rested her hand against Kara’s deliciously broad back, silently waiting for permission.
“Go ahead,” Kara said in a shaky voice.
Lena freed the tab of the hidden zipper and pulled, baring Kara’s expansive muscular back, and peeled the suit away from her shoulders. Kara had nothing but a sports bra and boxer briefs on beneath. She finished shimmying out of the suit on her own.
Lena has seen Kara in bathing suits, or caught flashes of her changing, but this was different, somehow more intimate. There was a vulnerability, not just in the woman disrobing but in the goddess showing Lena her bruises. Lena gently touched a black and purple mark on Kara’s flank.
“This one hurt, didn’t it.”
“It always hurts. I can feel it, I just pretend I don’t.”
Lena looked up at her and met her gaze.
“Kara, may I kiss you?”
Kara blinked and Lena could actually feel her tremble.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Lena rose on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together very softly, with a deliberate slowness. When Kara kissed her back and pulled her into a delicate embrace, hands bracketed low on her hips, Lena felt like she could fly.
Kara was looking at her in wonder.
“Was that for more luck?”
Lena felt bold. She had seize the moment now, before she lost her nerve and they fell back into tense limbo.
“Kara Danvers, if you want to, you can get very lucky tonight.”
Her eyes were wide and Lena grinned.
“I umm, I…”
Lena trailed a finger down the center of Kara’s muscular chest.
“Dinner is almost ready, darling. Take your shower. Just remember to save room for dessert.”
Kara favored her with a delighted smile as Lena stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the stairs.
When she reached the ground floor, everyone was pointedly focused elsewhere, either on the football game or cooking, and Kelly and Nia were playing cards at the dining room table.
Alexa, though, handed her a beer. Lena took it with a shaking hand.
“Fucking finally,” Alex whispered. “Just don’t get too loud tonight, okay? Go down to the beach if you can’t control yourself.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed.
“I hate you.”
“Love ya too, sis-in-law,” said Alex.
“We’re not married yet.”
Alex tipped back her brew. “Six months, tops.”
Lena took a long pull on her beer and scowled.
(It ended up being four months)
245 notes · View notes
lupinqs · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Future In Our Hands
☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)
☆ ━ word count: 6.3K
☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (fingering—p giving, morning sex)
☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist
☆ ━ author’s note: well… that’s it. my first baby all grown up. i actually cannot believe it’s over yall, genuinely. i love all of you so much, i love dani so much, i love dani and paige so much—like how’re we supposed to say goodbye…. anyways thank you all for your support on this fic, take me to church will always, always have a special place in my heart. ALSO! i’m planing to write an epilogue, so i want you guys to send in some ideas of what you might wanna see in that!! i love you all so much, onto the next 🫡
Tumblr media
JUST LIKE DANI thought they’d be, things are different now—but also so much better. After leaving her father’s house, she stayed with the Bueckers for a few weeks. They were kind, welcoming, and unwaveringly supportive, but Dani knew it couldn’t last forever. Paige’s family has their own lives, and—no matter how much they told her she wasn’t—Dani didn’t want to intrude. So when her Aunt Julia offered her a place, Dani accepted, moving into her aunt’s modest apartment just outside the city.
It’s been over a month now, and things are good—really good. Julia and Dani have grown close, almost like they’re making up for lost time. Dani feels lighter in this space, unburdened by judgment or fear. And then there’s Grey, Julia’s son. The baby has taken to Dani in a way that’s mutual and immediate; his face lights up every time she walks into the room, and Dani finds herself softening in his presence in ways she never thought possible. For the first time in years, she feels like she belongs somewhere.
The alarm on Dani’s phone blares, slicing through the comfortable silence of her new bedroom. She groans, reaching blindly to shut it off, and Paige groans along with her. Dani’s hand finds the phone, and she presses the button with more force than necessary, silencing the obnoxious buzz. The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t last long.
Behind her, Paige stirs, nuzzling closer until her face is buried against Dani’s neck. Her arms tighten around Dani’s waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of Dani’s sweatshirt to rest warm and solid against her bare stomach.
Dani lets out a breath, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breathing against her skin. “We gotta get up,” she murmurs, though the words lack any real urgency.
Paige responds by shaking her head, her voice muffled. “Noooo. Just a few more minutes.”
Dani huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. “P…”
But before she can say more, Paige groans dramatically and shifts her weight, rolling fully on top of Dani. She’s warm, all long limbs and lazy strength, her hands sliding up Dani’s sides as she tucks her face against Dani’s neck again. Her lips brush against the sensitive skin there, leaving soft, barely-there kisses that make Dani’s heart stumble in her chest.
Dani sighs, her hands coming up to rest on Paige’s hips. “Paige, we’re graduating in a couple hours.”
Paige makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, finally lifting her head to look down at Dani. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, but she’s smiling in that lopsided way that always makes Dani’s stomach flip.
“What time is it?” Paige asks, her voice scratchy and low.
“9:30,” Dani says, trying to keep her tone firm.
Paige scoffs. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til 11:30. We got time.”
Before Dani can respond, Paige leans down, her lips brushing against Dani’s in a kiss that’s soft and lingering at first. Dani melts into it instinctively, her hands sliding up Paige’s back, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.
The kiss deepens, shedding its softness in favor of something needier, hungrier. Dani feels Paige’s weight pressing down on her, grounding her in the moment, the exhaustion they’d both been clinging to dissipating like mist under the heat building between them. Paige tilts her head to angle the kiss just right, her lips sliding against Dani’s with purpose. There’s nothing rushed about it, but there’s an urgency to the way Paige grips Dani’s waist, her fingers splaying against bare skin like she’s memorizing the shape of her.
And then Paige shifts her hips just so, grinding down in a way that steals the breath from Dani’s lungs. Dani gasps against Paige’s lips, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders, and she feels rather than hears the soft hum of satisfaction Paige makes in response.
It’s just enough to spark something deep inside her, enough for her body to react instinctively. Dani’s hips buck up to meet Paige’s, the friction making her head spin, and before she knows it, her arms are around Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige adjusts, settling fully between Dani’s legs, her weight a warm and steady pressure that has Dani’s pulse thrumming wildly.
The hand Paige had been using to grip Dani’s waist slides up, her palm skimming the curve of Dani’s side and brushing just under the swell of her chest. It’s light, barely there, but it sends a shiver coursing through Dani all the same. Paige feels it—of course she does—and her lips curl into a smirk against Dani’s mouth before she dips her head to trail kisses along Dani’s jaw, her breath hot against sensitive skin.
“P…” Dani breathes, her voice shaky.
Paige doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Her lips press against the spot just below Dani’s ear, lingering long enough to make Dani squirm beneath her. “Hmm?” Paige hums, her tone teasing, almost lazy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Dani.
“Paige,” Dani tries again, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in Paige’s messy blonde hair. She tugs lightly, just enough to make Paige lift her head and meet her gaze. Paige’s eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown wide, and the sight sends another jolt of heat through Dani.
“We’re—” Dani swallows hard, trying to focus, but it’s almost impossible with Paige looking at her like that, with Paige’s hand still skimming her side, her hips still pressed so perfectly against Dani’s. “We’re gonna be late,” she manages, though it comes out far weaker than she intended.
Paige grins, the kind of grin that’s all mischief and affection rolled into one. “We got time,” she says, her voice low and certain. And then she’s insistently reconnecting their mouths, lips sliding together perfectly, teeth clashing just slightly. Dani’s eyes flutter shut as she continues kissing the blonde, feeling Paige’s hands begin to trail downward. They slide along Dani’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her skin, almost teasing. It makes Dani squirm a little until Paige’s fingers brush along the waistband of the pair of Paige’s basketball shorts Dani wore to bed.
Without Paige even asking anything, Dani’s nodding against her, hips shifting. They’re on a time crunch, so if they’re gonna do this, they gotta do it fast. Paige grins against Dani’s lips—probably at her eagerness—before sliding her fingers under the shorts and Dani’s panties in one go.
Dani gasps just slightly as Paige’s fingers reach for her clit, the blonde humming against her lips as she begins to circle the bud. Paige’s mouth disconnects from Dani’s, her lips skimming over her jawline and along her neck. “Mmm,” she hums against Dani’s ear. “So wet, Dan.”
Dani feels her cheeks heat at the words, heat flushing through her face down to her core. She whimpers a little at Paige’s slow circling of her clit, bucking her hips enough to let her know she needs more. Paige understands immediately, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside Dani, the slickness of her making the motion almost effortless. The sound that follows is, indeed, sinful—the obscene wet noises filling the otherwise quiet room, making Dani’s stomach tighten with a renewed wave of arousal.
Paige groans a little, pulling back from Dani’s neck. She grabs at the brunette’s shorts with her free hand, pushing them down so she can see her fingers working, eyes locking onto her digits moving in and out of Dani’s cunt and the way Dani’s body arches up into her. Dani watches Paige watch, catching the blonde bite her lip, eyes almost glazing over as her fingers slide inside Dani.
It makes Dani whimper, her hips instinctively pushing back against Paige’s fingers. “Mmph… please…” she mumbles, not really sure what she’s begging for, but the need in her tone seems to spur Paige on.
Paige responds immediately, thrusting her fingers deeper, curling them just enough to hit that spongy spot inside Dani that makes her gasp loudly. Dani feels Paige’s free hand move back up her body, under her sweatshirt to squeeze at her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Paige’s lips find Dani’s neck again, too, biting down lightly before sucking a mark into her skin.
Dani cries out a little at the sensation, her body trembling as the pleasure begins to overwhelm her. “God, P,” she moans, voice ragged.
She feels Paige grin against her neck once more, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles back on her clit. “Like that?” Paige whispers, breath hot against Dani’s skin.
Dani just nods, her breath hitching as she struggles to respond. “Yeah,” she finally manages to gasp out, her hips moving in time with Paige’s fingers. “Just like that.”
Dani bites down onto her lip hard, probably enough to draw blood, keeping herself in check because she has absolutely no interest in her aunt hearing her moan Paige’s name. Paige’s fingers are just relentless as they thrust in and out, the wet sounds between them growing louder and more obscene with every second. Dani feels Paige moan against her neck and that, along with the curling of Paige’s fingers, has Dani’s brows furrowing together, eyes scrunching closed, her whole body tightening.
“’M close,” Dani whimpers breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as her nails dig into Paige’s back.
Dani feels Paige’s fingers press even harder at her words, scissoring inside her, angling them just right. “Come on, Dan,” Paige encourages. “Wanna feel it.”
That‘a all it seems to take. With a muffled moan, Dani’s body goes taut, her muscles contracting around Paige’s fingers as she cums hard, her hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over her. Paige holds her tightly, her fingers slowing just enough to guide Dani through her orgasm, her lips still pressing gentle kisses to her neck.
“Fuck,” Dani gasps, her body finally going limp as she collapses back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.
Paige smirks down at her, slipping her fingers out. Paige presses a gentle kiss to Dani’s jaw, then her lips, then her nose, then the spot between her eyebrows before pulling back so she’s eye-to-eye with the girl. “Now it’s time to get up,” she says, cheesing.
Dani rolls her eyes, slapping at Paige’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”
THE FINAL APPLAUSE feels like it echoes forever, reverberating around the crowded football field. Dani sits there in the plastic chair, the edges of the graduation gown stiff against her arms, her cap threatening to slip off her head. She doesn’t move. Around her, classmates are already standing, hugging, and tossing their caps into the air, but Dani feels rooted in place.
It’s over.
Her childhood—whatever was left of it—has officially ended.
That’s the only thought looping in her head. The years she spent on cramped bleachers, in loud cafeterias, on basketball courts that smelled like old wood and sweat—all of it is behind her now. Her chest feels heavy with something she can’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Fear? She shakes it off and stands, taking a deep breath that doesn’t fill her lungs the way she wants it to.
When the crowd begins to disperse, she finally spots Paige a few rows over, standing tall and blonde and unmistakable in her blue gown. Thaliah is next to her, smirking as she bats Paige’s hands away from the crooked cap on her head. Dani weaves through the sea of gowns, her own steps feeling distant and mechanical. But when she reaches them, her grin comes naturally.
“Look at us,” Thaliah says, throwing her arms around both Dani and Paige, drawing them into a three-person hug. Her grin is wide. “All grown up!”
Dani chuckles, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Finally free,” she agrees, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
Thaliah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, free to do what? Work? Be an adult? Ugh.”
Dani doesn’t answer because her eyes are drawn to Paige, who’s blinking quickly, her lashes wet. Dani’s smile softens as she takes in the way Paige’s lower lip wobbles just slightly before she sucks it between her teeth.
“Aww, babe,” Dani says, her voice teasing but fond. She steps closer, brushing her thumb under Paige’s eye to catch a tear before it can fall.
“I’m not crying,” Paige says immediately, sniffing and straightening her shoulders like she can will the emotion away.
“You’re totally crying,” Thaliah chimes in, her grin wicked. “Somebody get a camera!”
Paige narrows her eyes. “I ain’t crying!”
“You are,” Dani teases, her hand lingering against Paige’s cheek before letting it fall back to her side.
“Shut up,” Paige mutters, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with a twitch of a smile.
The three of them laugh then, the kind of laughter that feels bigger than the moment. It’s a release, a shared acknowledgment of everything they’ve been through together and everything that’s ahead of them. Dani lets it wash over her, lets herself feel the warmth of it as they shuffle out into the packed hallway.
The noise is overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera flashes and the occasional squeal from someone who’s just spotted their family. Dani’s chest tightens briefly, but she shakes it off. This is supposed to be a happy day. She forces herself to focus on the here and now.
“Alright, I’m off,” Thaliah announces, clapping them both on the shoulder. “If I don’t get to my mom soon, she’s gonna start yelling my full name in front of everyone, and we can’t have that.” She gives the pair one last grin before disappearing through the crowd.
Paige stays close as they navigate through the throng of people, her hand brushing Dani’s back as they walk. Dani can feel the slight tremor in Paige’s energy, the kind that only comes when Paige is overwhelmed, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she nudges Paige gently with her elbow, and Paige gives her a grateful smile.
They find Paige’s family first. Her mom is the first person Dani notices, standing near the bleachers with a wide smile and arms open. Lauren, Ryan, and Drew are bouncing on their toes, waving furiously when they spot Paige. Bob is chatting animatedly with Paige’s grandparents, and her aunt is juggling a camera and a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.
“Paige!” Lauren squeals, launching herself at her older sister the second she’s within reach. Paige laughs, catching her and spinning her around before setting her down. Ryan and Drew both aren’t far behind, wrapping their arms around Paige’s waist and clinging like a little koalas.
Dani watches it all unfold, a small smile tugging at her lips. It’s a lot, seeing all of them there, so many people who love Paige and want to celebrate her. A small pang settles in her chest, but she pushes it aside quickly.
She doesn’t have to look far for her own family. Julia is standing just a few feet away, holding baby Grey on her hip, her smile soft and full of pride. Dani’s grandparents are beside her, their expressions warm and welcoming. It’s quieter, simpler, but no less meaningful.
Julia’s arms are open before Dani even realizes she’s moving, and she steps into the hug, letting herself sink into the familiarity of it. “I’m so proud of you, Dani,” Julia whispers into her ear, her voice thick with emotion.
The words hit harder than Dani expects, her throat tightening as she blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She pulls back after a moment, forcing a smile as she meets Julia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.
Grey babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Dani with chubby hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she takes him into her arms. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, bouncing him slightly. He giggles, his tiny hands grabbing at the tassel on her cap.
Her grandparents step forward next, wrapping her in hugs that smell like lavender and old books, murmuring their congratulations with quiet pride. Dani’s smile feels a little steadier now, a little more natural.
It’s not perfect. It’s not what she used to imagine this day would look like. There’s an emptiness where her parents should be, a hollow ache she tries not to focus on. But looking at Julia’s warm smile, Grey’s wide eyes, and her grandparents’ unwavering support, she decides it’s enough.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Dani turns to find Bob, Paige’s dad, leaning in for a hug. His grin is kind and effortless, the kind that makes Dani feel seen, like she belongs. She melts into the embrace, letting him clap her on the back as she smiles against his shoulder.
“Look at you!” he exclaims as they pull back. “High school graduate. You’ve done good, Dan.”
Her grin widens. Bob’s probably the closest thing she has to a dad these days, and she’s grateful for how steady he’s always been, how he’s never made her feel out of place. “Thanks, Bob.”
Before she can say more, Amy swoops in, wrapping Dani in a tight hug that smells like fresh laundry and perfume. “Aw, Dani, all grown up!” Amy squeals, pulling back to hold Dani by the shoulders and give her a good once-over. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
Dani laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t cry, Amy. Paige’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Amy laughs, her hands squeezing Dani’s shoulders briefly before she lets go. “No promises.”
Dani makes her way down the line, crouching slightly to hug Paige’s little siblings. Lauren and Ryan and Drew all beam at her, their arms wrapping around her tightly. Drew leans into her side, his small voice eager as he says, “You’re coming to the cookout after, right?”
“Of course,” Dani says, ruffling his hair before pulling Lauren in for a quick squeeze. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
When she stands, she feels a hand slide into hers, warm and familiar. Paige is there, her blue eyes soft as she looks at Dani, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay,” Amy says suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s directing a photoshoot. “I need pictures!”
Paige groans, loud and exaggerated, her head tilting back like this is the most torturous request in the world. “Mom, come on—”
“No complaints!” Amy cuts her off, already holding up her phone. “This is a big day! Paige, Dani, come on.”
Paige rolls her eyes but grins as she tugs Dani closer by the hand. Dani follows easily, letting Paige guide her until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. Paige’s arm wraps around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Dani’s hip, and Dani lets her own hand settle comfortably against Paige’s back. They tilt their heads together instinctively, their smiles wide and natural as the first flash goes off.
One photo turns into three, then four, and Dani quickly loses track of how many cameras are aimed at them. Both of Paige’s parents are taking pictures, as are their grandparents, Julia, and Paige’s aunt. It feels like every angle is covered, and Dani doesn’t even know where to look at this point.
“Oh, wait, wait!” Julia exclaims suddenly, waving her free hand while balancing Grey on her hip. “Take one showing the caps!”
Dani and Paige both blink at her, confused for a moment before they realize what she means. “Oh!” Paige says, reaching up to tug her cap off. “Yeah, yeah.”
Dani does the same, pulling her cap off and holding it in her hands. When she glances over at Paige, she can’t help but laugh. “Ooh, cap head,” she teases, nodding toward Paige’s hair, which is flattened awkwardly where the cap had been.
Paige narrows her eyes at her, a mock glare that doesn’t last long. “Fix it.”
“Please,” Dani corrects, smirking as she leans in to do just that—fix the mess. Her fingers comb through the strands of blonde until Paige’s hair looks normal again. Paige huffs but doesn’t pull away, her lips twitching upward in the smallest smile.
When Dani’s satisfied, she steps back, only to feel Paige’s hand brushing against her own hair. “Hang on,” Paige mutters, her fingers quick and sure as they smooth out Dani’s own cap-induced disaster.
Once they’ve both deemed each other photo-ready, they angle their caps toward the cameras, holding them up so the bedazzled designs are clearly visible. UConn logos sparkle under the sun, the rhinestones they painstakingly glued on last night catching every flash.
“Go Huskies!” Amy cheers from behind the phone, her voice bright with pride as the camera clicks again.
Dani feels her grin stretch impossibly wider. In that moment, she forgets about the ache in her chest, the absence of her parents, the uncertainty of the future. All she feels is this—Paige’s arm warm around her waist, their friends and family laughing and cheering, and the glimmer of the UConn logos they’ll carry with them into the next chapter of their lives.
THE NIGHT feels heavy in the best way—cool air brushing against Paige’s skin, her hoodie soft against her arms, and the low hum of cicadas filling the spaces between quiet laughter. It’s dark now, the kind of dark that stretches across the park like a blanket, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlamp by the parking lot and the stars above. The four of them—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen—are settled into their usual spots at the park they’ve claimed since what feels like forever. The basketball court has cracks they know like the backs of their hands, the picnic table has their initials carved into the wood, and everything about it feels like home.
Paige leans against the basketball hoop, dribbling lazily as Jalen sets up for a halfhearted shot. He misses—terribly—and Paige laughs, grabbing the rebound and tossing the ball back to him. “Bro,” she teases, “you might need to rethink that NBA dream.”
Jalen points at her, mock offended. “You laugh now, but when I’m in the league, you’re not getting courtside tickets.”
“Good,” Paige fires back with a grin. “I’ll be too busy winning nattys at UConn anyway.”
The words feel easy, automatic, but they carry a weight she’s only just starting to realize. UConn. Storrs. It’s been this abstract, glittering thing for so long, but now it’s real—a fresh start, a new chapter. Summer sessions start in just a couple weeks. Basketball in the basketball capital of the world. And Dani. Dani will be there too.
She glances toward the picnic table, where Dani’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Thaliah, both of them half-focused on Thaliah’s phone. Milkshakes sit abandoned on the table, sweating in the humid air, and Dani’s curled hair falls into her face as she leans closer to the screen. Paige watches her for a moment, her grin softening into something quieter.
“Aye,” Jalen says, nudging Paige with his elbow and smirking a little. “You good?”
“Hm?” Paige blinks, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.” She spins the basketball once, catching it easily. “Just thinking about how much better I am than you.”
Jalen groans. “Aight, thin ice, Bueckers.”
Paige laughs, tossing the ball his way before walking toward the table, her curiosity piqued by whatever has Dani and Thaliah so engrossed. She hops up onto the bench beside Dani, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What’s so fascinating?”
Thaliah glances up briefly, holding her phone out so Paige can see. “My roommate at UCLA,” she says, scrolling through an Instagram profile of a girl with tanned skin and lots of beach photos. “She’s already from Cali, so.”
“Hmm,” Paige hums, tilting her head as she studies the photos. “She seems chill.”
“I think so too,” Dani agrees.
Thaliah nods. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’ve been texting. She’s into film, which gives us somethin’ in common, and she’s already invited me to a festival this fall. I think we’re gonna get along.”
Paige nods at the words before watching Dani groan dramatically, leaning her head against Thaliah’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be in sunny LA while I’m stuck in Storrs with this creature.” She gestures lazily in Paige’s direction without looking up.
“Aye!” Paige exclaims, feigning offense. She ruffles Dani’s curls lightly, earning an indignant squawk. “Watch that mouth.”
Dani swats at Paige’s hand but grins, leaning back in her seat, humming, “Mhm.”
Paige smirks. “It’ll be fun, you know it.”
“Debatable,” Dani shoots back, but there’s a warmth in her tone that makes Paige’s chest feel strangely tight.
Jalen finally joins them, the basketball tucked under one arm. He stands behind them, leaning over to try and get a glimpse. “What’re we looking at?”
“My future roomie,” Thaliah says, holding up her phone again.
Jalen squints at the screen, then nods approvingly. “Damn. She fine.”
Dani bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her milkshake as Thaliah groans and mutters something about boys being predictable. Paige just shakes her head, leaning back on the bench and letting the easy rhythm of their banter wash over her. It’s moments like this, she thinks, that she’s going to miss most.
But then Dani’s hand brushes against hers, her fingers curling briefly around Paige’s, and she thinks maybe she doesn’t have to miss it. Not really. Not when Dani’s right here, and when tomorrow, and every day after, will start with both of them heading toward the same place. Together.
Jalen’s phone buzzes on the bench, the screen lighting up with a notification. Paige notices it before he does and glances over, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he picks it up and reads the message. “Ah, man,” he says, standing and shoving the phone into his pocket. “My mom’s tellin’ me to get home. Graduation tomorrow and all.”
Thaliah stretches, groaning a little as she stands. “Guess I’m out too, then. He’s my ride.”
Paige frowns, tilting her head at them. “Wow, ditching us already?”
Thaliah smirks as she grabs her jacket. “Hey, not all of us can be completely irresponsible. Some of us have families that enforce things like curfews and sleep schedules.”
“Lame,” Paige teases, but she stands to hug Jalen, patting him on the back. “Congrats ahead of time, though. Have fun tomorrow.”
Jalen grins, hugging her back.
Thaliah waves as they head toward the parking lot, leaving Paige and Dani alone on the weathered wooden bench. The night feels quieter now, though not uncomfortable—just different. The cicadas hum in the trees, and the faint smell of grass and pavement lingers in the air. Paige lets herself enjoy the moment for a second, her gaze drifting over to Dani.
Dani sits quietly, staring out at the court, her expression unreadable. It’s the kind of stillness Dani falls into sometimes, where Paige knows she’s in her head about something but won’t say what.
Paige stands, grabbing the basketball from beside her and turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels familiar and grounding. “Play with me?”
Dani turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“Play with me,” Paige repeats, her tone lighter, teasing. She bounces the ball once against the ground for emphasis.
Dani snorts. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” Paige grins, holding the ball against her hip.
“Uh-uh,” Dani protests, shaking her head. “We both know how that’ll end.”
“And?” Paige arches a brow.
Dani doesn’t move, her expression skeptical. Paige rolls her eyes, stepping closer and grabbing Dani’s hand, tugging her to her feet. Dani resists for about half a second before giving in with an exasperated sigh.
“You’re annoying, you know that?” Dani mutters.
“Yep.” Paige leads her toward the court, the basketball bouncing lightly in her other hand.
Once they’re on the court, Paige dribbles a couple of times before passing the ball to Dani. “1v1,” she says, her voice challenging.
Dani catches the ball awkwardly, holding it for a moment as she stares at Paige. “This is stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. “We both know who’s gonna win.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Paige replies, dropping into a defensive stance. “C’mon. Play.”
With a small shake of her head, Dani starts to dribble—slowly, clumsily. The ball bounces unevenly against the pavement, and Paige bites back a laugh. She gives Dani a few seconds before darting in to steal the ball.
Dani yelps and pulls the ball to her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around it like it’s a lifeline.
“That is illegal!” Paige exclaims, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.
“Then quit tryna take it from me!” Dani fires back, her voice half-laughing, half-exasperated as she shifts away from Paige.
Paige grins, circling around Dani like a shark. “Aight, fine. If you wanna be like that, we can be like that.”
Before Dani can respond, Paige lunges, trying to pry the ball free. When that doesn’t work, her fingers find their way to Dani’s ribs, tickling mercilessly.
Dani shrieks, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably. “Paige! Stop!” she yells, twisting and turning to escape, but Paige keeps going, grinning against her ear.
“This… is… definitely… a… foul!” Dani manages between gasps, her laughter growing louder as her grip on the ball falters.
“Don’t care,” Paige replies, her voice smug as she tickles harder. Dani’s back presses into Paige’s chest as she struggles, her legs wobbling beneath her.
Paige spins the brunette around, her fingers relentless against Dani’s ribs, tickling so hard that Dani’s squealing, “Paige!” nearly collapsing under the weight of her laughter.
Finally, Paige relents, stepping back as the basketball slips from Dani’s grasp and rolls across the court. Dani leans against Paige, panting and giggling, her forehead pressing lightly into Paige’s chest.
“I hate you,” Dani mutters breathlessly, swatting weakly at Paige’s hoodie.
Paige just grins, her hands settling on Dani’s hips. “Nah, you don’t.”
Dani pulls back slightly, glaring up at her with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Paige replies, her voice softer now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. Paige’s grin widens, her hand sliding upward to cup Dani’s jaw. Her thumb brushes lightly against Dani’s cheek as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon, Dan, you don’t hate me.”
Dani rolls her eyes, relenting. Paige thinks she hears her breath catch. “No, I don’t.”
And then Paige tilts her head, her lips brushing against Dani’s, soft at first, as if feeling the rhythm of the moment. But then, the hesitation fades. Paige presses forward, coaxing Dani’s lips to part, and with a quiet, deep inhale, her tongue slips into Dani’s mouth.
Paige feels Dani’s mouth opening slightly more, a sigh escaping her lips. She shifts closer, hands sliding down from Paige’s chest to her sides, pulling them tighter together, the warmth of her body mingling with Paige’s. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing slightly.
Paige’s hand on Dani’s hip trails downward, fingers slipping, finding purchase on the curve of her ass. She squeezes lightly, feeling the taut muscle beneath her fingertips, and that small movement has Dani grinning against her lips, the playful smirk against Paige’s mouth making Paige’s stomach flip.
Paige lets out a soft laugh through the kiss, a breathless sound, but she doesn’t pull away. She deepens the kiss instead, her fingers pressing a little harder, pulling Dani closer still. It’s like a slow burn, the way their bodies are melting together, hot and heavy but not frantic.
Paige takes her time. She lets her lips linger, firm but careful, savoring the way Dani responds. There’s a heat between them, an energy that buzzes under Paige’s skin, but she reins it in, keeps it simmering just beneath the surface. This moment isn’t about rushing forward—it’s about Dani, about the way she fits so perfectly in Paige’s hands, the way her lips feel impossibly soft and warm, the way she melts into the kiss.
Dani shifts slightly, her hands sliding up from Paige’s chest to loop around her neck. It pulls Paige down further, and she lets it happen, leaning into the touch, into Dani. The kiss slows for a beat, their lips brushing more gently now, like the initial spark has given way to something softer, something steadier.
Paige pulls back just an inch, her forehead resting against Dani’s. She opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of Dani—her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded and searching—nearly takes her breath away.
“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and a little unsteady.
Dani blinks up at her, her fingers still playing lightly with the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she looks at Paige—like she’s seeing her for the first time and yet has always known her—says everything.
Paige feels her phone buzz against her skin, the vibration pulling her reluctantly out of the moment, out of Dani’s warmth. She lets out a soft breath of frustration, but she’s still not ready to fully pull away. Her hand stays on Dani’s ass, fingers tracing the curve of her hip in a way that keeps their bodies pressed together.
She pulls the phone from her pocket with a sigh, glancing at the screen, but the feeling of Dani still so close, so tangible, is enough to make her hold on just a moment longer. It’s a message from her dad asking if she and Dani want to come back and watch a movie with Drew, Ryan, and Lauren.
She shifts the phone to face Dani, letting her read it for herself. The light from the screen illuminates their faces, casting soft shadows across Dani’s features. For a second, Paige just looks at her, at the way Dani’s brow furrows slightly in thought as she processes the message, and then the way her lips curve into that familiar smile that always does something to Paige’s chest.
“You wanna?” Paige asks quietly, her voice soft but steady, letting Dani know she’s willing to go along with whatever she decides.
Dani looks at the message and then up at Paige, smiling just a little—like the smallest of secrets are being shared. She nods, and that small gesture makes Paige’s heart skip just a little.
“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s chest tighten with affection. “Let’s go.”
Paige smiles back, the warmth spreading in her chest, and presses one last kiss to the corner of Dani’s mouth. It’s soft, lingering for a second longer than it probably should, but Paige can’t help it. She can’t help but savor the taste of Dani, the way her lips feel like home. It’s like everything before this—before the arguing, before the space between them, before all the pain—has led to this.
This moment. This kiss. And everything that comes after it.
When she pulls back just a fraction, still feeling the heat of Dani’s skin under her hands, Paige wraps her arm around Dani’s waist and guides them back toward the picnic table. Her fingers graze the soft curve of Dani’s waist, a quiet gesture of possession, of love, of a future they haven’t yet fully realized but are starting to piece together.
They collect their milkshakes, Paige grabbing both cups, offering Dani her Oreo one, who takes it with a grateful, quiet smile, and they walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step. They don’t say much, the silence between them comfortable, an unspoken understanding that fills the space where words aren’t needed. There’s no pressure, no rush, just the steady rhythm of their footsteps as they head back.
Side by side, they walk back to Paige’s house, their bodies pressed close enough that the warmth between them is constant, never faltering. Neither of them speaks much, but the air between them feels thick with the weight of it all—the unspoken words, the shared memories, the connection that neither of them can deny anymore. They walk in sync, like they’ve always been meant to, and Paige finds that she doesn’t need words to fill the space.
The familiar sights of their neighborhood pass by, the houses and the trees, the sound of their feet on the pavement, the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. They pass Dani’s dad’s house, and neither of them looks at it. Paige’s mind briefly flickers to that house, to the past, to the pain that had lingered there for so long, but it’s all behind them now. That part of their lives is a closed door, and neither of them needs to open it again.
They reach the front door of Paige’s house, and Paige can’t help but glance at Dani as she opens it. The door opens with a soft creak, and for a brief moment, Paige holds the door open with one hand while she rests her forehead against Dani’s. It’s a simple thing, but there’s something about it, something about the way Dani’s body fits against hers, something about the softness of her skin under Paige’s touch that makes it all feel like it’s meant to be.
And in that moment, Paige knows, without a doubt, that everything before this was just the beginning. Because this—this is their forever.
Then, Lauren calls for them both from inside, telling their names. Dani grins up at Paige, murmuring, “C’mon,” pulling her inside.
And as they step inside the house, with their hands still intertwined, the door closes softly behind them, sealing shut their childhoods, their high school days, and all the ups and downs that surrounded them. The future’s wide open, and Paige and Dani are ready to take that step into it.
217 notes · View notes
haru-kuneko · 3 hours ago
Text
Netflix was supposed to be like the antithesis of the purely saccharine, kid-friendly Disney company. They were looking for random talents whose works they could adapt to film or series. I was surprised to see how many great shows and movies, both old and new, you could watch there albeit the subscriptions being a little expensive.
However, everything changed when they started canceling their good shows and multiple accounts of poor working conditions in the animation industry. I hate how it'd take so long for them to add new seasons or content. They have not only become so expensive these days but have also taken away password-sharing.
Now, I mostly binge shows on YouTube where it's free and easy to support the creators! Indie animation may not be the overall alternative but a stepping stone to giving more unique and entertaining stuff that people deserve.
it really is insane to me how in the mid 2010s netflix had a reputation of making cool, inclusive series as well as saving tv shows after their networks cancelled them, and now here we are today with every halfway decent netflix original show getting cancelled after 1-2 seasons and a bajillion episodes of bigmouth
23K notes · View notes
frownyalfred · 3 days ago
Note
I love when Clark uses Bruce (and his kids) as his baseline for average, normal human. Ranging from gym routines, to illness and injury recovery to simply what's considered normal knowledge. Like, sure Clark could look up the standard for an American white male, but like. Clark never expects to have someone asking him detailed questions about his workout or about how long it took him to get over his last flu. Plus, he takes sick and injury leave for Superman reasons, and his default is to just use whatever the last reason for Bruce being benched was (or rather, the last, most reasonable for a normal human to have happen to him).
Cue Clark saying something "oh, yeah, I had to take for an hour the last three weeks for physical therapy for that dislocated shoulder. But it's all good now."
Coworker, who had previously dislocated their shoulder, and was worried for Clark due to him being such a sweetheart: "you... just had three days of physical therapy for a dislocated shoulder?"
Clark, thinking about how Bruce did his physical therapy by himself aside from once a week when Alfred or Dick would help him, "I mean, I was also doing it at home too?"
Clark learns that 99% of Bruce's injury recovery protocol is inhumane by most standards and leaves work and flies straight to the Cave to regale Bruce with the timeline of Craig's (the coworker) rotator cuff surgery and how apparently you're not supposed to put weight on it for months and did you know that, Bruce?
Bruce: Hn.
Bruce, internally: god I wish I could spend three months not putting weight on this fucking shoulder. Craig doesn't know how lucky he is.
213 notes · View notes
pitchsidestories · 10 hours ago
Text
aurora II Mapi León x Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
masterlist | word count: 1190
summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.
author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻
„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  
In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.
It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.
The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”
For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.
Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.
“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.
“You’re welcome.”, she replied.
“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.
“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.
‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.
“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.
“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.
“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly
“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.
“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.
“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.
“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.
The weeks had flown by.
Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.
“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”
“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.
“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.
You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“
“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.
“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“
“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.
You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“
Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.
“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.
“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.
“I need to ask you something.“
Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.
The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.
“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.
“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.
You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”
“So… Can I get an answer then?”
“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.
Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“
“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.
“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.
“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“
She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”
“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.
“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.
“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.
“Yes, please.“
While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.
“Better?”
“A lot.“
“Good.“, you sighed relieved.
“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  
“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.
“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.
Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”
“It does, huh?”
“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.
The fireplace crackled in the background.
“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.
They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.
Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”
“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.
“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.
“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.
“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.
“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.
“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.
“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.
“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.
Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.
if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !
162 notes · View notes
notlongtolove · 15 hours ago
Text
the garden is growing
"you live together, work together. doesn’t it all get a little boring?" there’s a weight to her observation, something invasive, like she’s pulling out weeds that you never asked her to tend, tilling through soil that’s been left unbothered for too long. the cups of tea, the folding of blankets. you could never call that boring.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre: fluff! maybe angst if you really really squint
content: after catching up with an old friend, bau!reader and bf!spencer have a contemplative talk about their relationship as they walk home. domestic... mentions of marriage... lurve in the air...
word count: 2.2k
note: a post finals treat to myself! leaned heavy into the garden imagery for this one lol, this was heavily inspired by the poem linked, i highly recommend it! o i also added some song recs below for this one :P (ps i did not mean to compare spencer's eyes to PEBBLES but it was either that or a random brown flower... sorry.)
a line: The perennial pushes its way through the cracks in the concrete—small, steady, and undeniably alive. It’s there. It’s growing.
Tumblr media
If you ask me 'What's new?', I have nothing to say Except that the garden is growing. - wendy cope
Tumblr media
When you were younger, you had a garden. A field just a stone's throw from your front door. Not the kind in a backyard, fenced in and manageable. No, it was wild and uncontained, the grass alive beneath your feet. They used to say love was like a garden. You'd think about that sometimes—how you were supposed to tend to it, rake and comb and pull out the weeds before they strangled your beautiful flowers. And when it rained, you just had to let it. Let the downpour come and see what survived.
You’re standing under the awning, shaking droplets off your jacket. You mumble a thanks to the doorman as he holds the door open, offering a silent nod in return. The door opens to a polished, marble lobby, and suddenly you’re acutely aware of how out of place you look. You’d come straight from the office, having dwindled your stack of case files from a grand total of 26 to a modest 19. The grand mirror to your left does nothing to help. If anything, it’s magnifying the creased fabric of your trousers and the damp strands of hair stuck to your cheek. You shift uncomfortably, tugging at your sleeves and smoothing your hair out in a futile attempt at order. It was urgent she’d said. A matter of utmost importance. You’re not sure why you’re here, but you know with certainty that you’d rather not be.
She sees you before you see her. She calls out for you, the nickname wrapping around you like a sweater one size too small—warm but suffocating. It might as well be. You haven’t seen her in nearly a year—maybe a year and a half? You shrug, suddenly missing Spencer’s precision, his ability to pin things down to the day, the hour.
"Hi," you manage, sliding into the seat opposite her. “I’m really sorry. Work was crazy—" you start, but your words dissolve the moment she thrusts her hand forward. A diamond—no, a boulder—catches the light, dazzling and deliberate. You nearly choke on the glass of water you’ve just picked up. 
"Let me tell you about crazy," she says, her grin sharpening. 
Oh, the yacht! And don’t even get me started on the violins, can you believe it! The sea was just gorgeous—Did I mention it was on a yacht? Her words tumble out as you try to follow along, but you can’t quite keep up, only noting it definitely involved an abhorrent amount of Dom Perignon.
“I wish you could’ve been there to see it,” she says, her voice tinged with what you hope is nostalgia and not pity.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” you murmur, and you mean it—sort of. You used to be close, but since starting at the BAU, everything else kind of took a backseat. It had to. “I wish I could’ve too. Work’s been—”
"Crazy, right," she cuts in, waving it off. "Big fancy BAU," She winks. "That job’s gonna be the death of you one day y’know, all those hours." You force a laugh, but her words hit a little too literally, heavier than she knows. You don’t think she quite grasps the reality of your work.
“So,” she says, leaning in now, her chin propped delicately on her hand, her diamond ring catching the light. You can’t help but think it’s mocking you. “How’s things going with Spencer?”
"Oh, they’re going fine."
"Fine?" She raises her brows. "Trouble in paradise?"
“No, not at all,” you insist, your voice instinctively rising in defence. “We’re—fine. You know, same old, same old. We just wrapped a big case actually. This guy—” You cut yourself off, realizing mid-sentence that the story of a guy meticulously collecting hair from women post-mortem doesn’t feel like the kind of story to share during dinner under a sparkling chandelier—Not that you’re doing much eating anyway. The menu was a labyrinth of fancy salads, obscure cheeses, and entrées described in French that you’re only half sure translate to lamb. You’d settled for pushing a few greens around your plate, making a mental note to stop by the bodega later.  
Her laugh pulls you back to the table, "I don’t know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"You know… Live together, work together, day in, day out. Doesn’t it all get a little..." She trails off, letting her expression finish the sentence. 
"A little… what?" 
"Boring?"
You blink. "Boring?" 
The word tastes bitter. You don’t like it. The way the dog always chases the cat? Boring. The way the cat always seeks shelter in the same tree? Boring. But the way they both come running home every time you call? That’s never boring. Spencer in the quiet mornings—hair tousled, voice soft and sleepy as he murmurs a 'good morning.' The cups of tea, the folding of blankets. You could never call that boring. 
She laughs lightly, the sound cutting through the restaurant’s hum. "Not in a bad way! I just mean... do you guys even go out? Like, for fun? You guys have been together for, what like, years now?” Three years and 4 months, you think to yourself. You’d never need Spencer’s eidetic memory to remember that. 
"Well, yeah, sure we do…" you say finally. "Um, we went to a museum recently." You don’t tell her it was to interview a suspect. Her smile tightens, like she’s not sure whether to believe you or feel sorry for you. You take a careful sip of water, resisting the urge to shift under her gaze. There’s a weight to her observation, something invasive, like she’s pulling out weeds that you never asked her to tend, tilling through soil that’s been left unbothered for too long. Outside, the rain keeps falling.
By the time you part with polite hugs and hollow smiles, the downpour has softened to a drizzle. Spencer is waiting by the curb, hair slightly damp. His eyes light up at the sight of you. Under the glow of the streetlight, they remind you of the pebbles you used to collect by the garden path. You’d carry them home, pocketful by pocketful, washing and scrubbing at them until they shone. Only your favourites made it to your shelf. Tiny, perfect trophies.
“Hi, honey.”
"Hiya." You lean into his chest, a tired smile tugging at your lips as you manage a strained, “I’m starving.” 
“Hi starving. Care for a burrito?” he asks, tilting a takeout bag toward you with a small smile.
Your eyes meet his, and there’s something in his smile—soft, understanding, familiar—that makes your chest ache. “How’d you know?” you ask, practically tearing into the bag.
“Searched the menu after you left,” he says simply, falling into step beside you as you start walking. “Figured you wouldn't have liked much in there," he shrugs, casual. You feel your cheeks warm. Two hours away from Spencer Reid is two hours too long. 
The walk home is quiet at first, the two of you picking your way around puddles reflecting neon signs. The burrito’s long gone, leaving your hand free for Spencer to hold, fingers interlocked.
“She’s engaged,” you say eventually.
Spencer furrows his brows. “Already?”
“It’s only been like, what, eight? nine months?”
Spencer frowns, pauses then says, “256 days”, the precision drawing a faint smile from you.
“Crazy isn’t it?”
“I guess. Some people are like that,” he says, “Did you know statistically, couples who get engaged within the first year of dating are 20% more likely to divorce within the first five years?”
“With that prenup incoming she’d better hope they’re the exception then…” you murmur, not really listening. 
There’s something in your chest, persistent and heavy. You can feel its roots stirring, working its way beneath the surface, threatening to loosen the earth that keeps you grounded. 
A few more steps in silence. Then, quietly, “Do you think we’re boring?”
“Boring?” Spencer tilts his head slightly. ��Do you think we’re boring?”
You hesitate, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t think we’re boring, but you know, we don’t do much.” 
“We’re in the FBI, honey. I’d argue we do a lot.” He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching playfully. You try to laugh, but it comes out forced, brittle—like a flower trying to push out a bloom that's not quite ready yet.
Spencer notices, as he always does. “Is there something you want to do?” It stirs in you again, something tender and uncertain. You don’t know if it will be a flower that blooms or a weed that chokes out everything else. 
“No,” You say a little too quickly, “Nothing really, just... Other than work and home—”
“What’d she say?”
“Hm?”
“You love work, you live for it—I practically have to drag you out of the office most days,” he reasons, tone calm and steady. “And, if this is something that was bothering you… I’d have known. So it must’ve been something she said.” You stop walking, the words catching in your throat. It bothers you—how her vines have crept into your garden, straight through to the soil beneath. Flowers rarely thrive in foreign soil, you think. 
“Not really,” you lie, biting your lip—a tell Spencer surely catches. “We just talked about the engagement. Well, she talked.”
He doesn’t press, though you can tell he doesn’t believe you. His gaze lingers, but he chooses to give you space. “How was it? The engagement.”
“Something about a yacht,” you reply with a shrug.
“I thought she was afraid of water.”
“Not when it’s on a million-dollar vessel, apparently.”
Spencer chuckles. You continue to walk. Your feet do their best to trace the familiar trail, trying to find the garden path that takes you home. Left. Right. Left. Right. But your thoughts snag, tripping on an unseen vine, and you stumble.
“Do you ever think about it?” you ask.
“About what?”
“Like... if we ever get married and stuff.”
Now it’s Spencer’s turn to stop mid-step, rooted to the spot, his body going still. You freeze too, breath trapped in your chest, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you rush to say, the guilt sharp and immediate. “That was silly, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 
You tug softly on his hand trying to pull him forward, but he doesn’t budge. His brows knit together as his gaze locks with yours. 
“When.” 
“When what?”
“You said if. I’m saying when. When we get married.”
“When we get married?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment.
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When. Not if. I don’t think really of it as a hypothetical possibility.”
Your chest tightens and you don’t know exactly what to say, but your fingers instinctively tighten around his. Spencer senses your silence and rushes to fill the space.
“Do you… not think that?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
“I do! Of course, I do.” Your voice falters. “I just… I didn’t know you thought about it that way too.”
Spencer hums, soft smile on his face. “I know I tend to look at things in terms of statistics, probabilities—But us? There’s no ‘ifs’. Not with you, honey. Never with you.”
And just like that, the earth beneath you shifts, breaking apart to reveal a bud. Not a flower but a fruit-bearing tree. You try and fight the urge to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him, but he’s already leaning in, his lips warm and familiar against yours. As you pull back, eyes locked, you think back to the pebbles you used to collect. Your tiny, perfect trophies—Spencer’s eyes are far better, you think. 
“You smell like burrito,” he teases. You laugh, the sound light and easy. “You love burritos.”
He brushes a stray curl from your forehead. “I love you.”
Through the clearing, you see it. The vines have receded, the rain has come and gone. Your feet step off the garden path with certainty. It’s safe now. It’s here. 
“So,” you say with renewed excitement, your steps light as you glance at him, “Beach wedding?”
Spencer wrinkles his nose. “Do you have any idea how much fecal bacteria there is in beach sand?”
“Blegh.” 
“No, seriously. Beach sand has 10 to 100 times more fecal bacteria than seawater.”
“How about we don’t throw around the word ‘fecal’ when my burrito is still working its way through me,” you reply, grimacing. “What’s your genius idea then?”
He grins. “Barn wedding?”
“Spence, I love you, and I know you’ve always wanted to be a cowboy, but I’m not walking down the aisle with hay in my hair.”
He laughs, shaking his head as you walk side by side, hands swaying between you. Spencer spots a perennial growing out of concrete cracks by the lamppost 2 steps ahead of you. 
“What about a garden wedding? In spring?” 
“A garden wedding,” you say, a soft smile spreading across your face, “Yeah, I’d really like that, spring’s nice.”
"Okay,” he says, hand warm in yours, “in spring then."
There’s no towering oak tree, ancient and steadfast, to mark this moment, no circle of wildflowers dancing wildly around with their colours. But still the perennial pushes its way through the cracks in the concrete—small, steady, and undeniably alive. It’s there. It’s growing.
They used to say love was like a garden. When his drought comes, silent but devastating nonetheless, you quench it with your rain—soft, temperamental. And when your rain changes its tide, thrashing and wild, he shelters you beneath his leaves, vast and unyielding. Together you prune the dead parts, plant anew, and marvel at what thrives.
The next time someone asks you how things are going, there’s no pursed smile or hesitant pause, distant in thought. You just smile and say it's going. It's going alright. It's going great. It’s going fine. 
Because all that matters is that it's going. 
Your garden is growing. 
⋆✴︎˚。⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!
song recs if you feel like it: nothing by bruno major love letter from the sea to the shore by delaney bailey you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee
167 notes · View notes
mloreley · 2 days ago
Text
There are employees who don't take their job seriously, or may overstep a boundary. I've worked with them, and I can tell you that they make everyone else miserable because now, NOW, they become the example that every customer uses to debase the rest of us. Know that they are the exception, not the rule. And I wanna share something from my experience as a cashier, about Black Friday (and consequently about any of the major holiday sales that go on this time of year): To avoid physical danger with customers stampeding one another (literally!), they had shifted to a "as long as you're in line on the day of, you will be guaranteed a way to buy or order one of the High Ticket Items". People in line would get a slip to take to the front, where it would be scanned, and ordered, and either delivered to them or to the store. Very convenient, keeps people safe, makes sure that no one misses out on a big deal. No one told any of the cashiers what was happening. No one showed us how to actually scan those slips (there were a few more steps to the process than normal). Which meant that as soon as people came to the front to get them scanned, all 18 registers were calling for manager support, which created an immediate hiccup and brought the ENTIRE STORE to a total halt. To anyone in line, it looked like the cashiers were incompetent, that we didn't know how to do our jobs. And once we were finally all shown how to scan the slips properly, we had customer after customer complain about the wait and insult our intelligence, one after another, and the only thing we could do is apologize and do our best to summarize "We were not told what to do before just now" without being accusatory and staying professional. It didn't help that the managers also blamed us for not knowing, despite the fact that, again, no one showed us how to scan the slips and the special steps involved, and that WAS supposed to be their job. So we got blame from customers AND managers for something we had no way of actually knowing was going to happen. If you run into a hiccup while trying to check out with your excellent deals, I beg you to keep in mind that the cashiers are probably just as put off by the experience as you are and might be dealing with garbage management. Also; please bring your IDs if you're using credit cards (or running a debit as a credit). If your purchase is over a certain amount, they HAVE to check, and if they can't, they HAVE to decline the sale. And if your ID is lost/getting replaced, please bear in mind that it's a safety precaution to make sure some thief hasn't stolen your card to rack up thousands of dollars.
(Yes, I had someone get very angry at me over this. I had several people very angry at me over this.)
People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.
251K notes · View notes
azrielbrainrot · 15 hours ago
Text
Take Me Back To Eden
Pairing: Shadow King!Azriel x F!Reader
Kinktober 2024: Throne Sex
Description: You've dreamt of the day Azriel would come back home for so long that you find yourself at a loss now that it actually happened. Luckily, it all falls into place as soon as your eyes meet his.
Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, throne sex, some fingering, some dirty talk, you know the usual
Word Count: 4,2k
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Notes: This was originally supposed to be a rhys story but there will be plenty more opportunities to write about throne sex with him. Also this ended up actually having some plot and extremely fluffy. Hope you enjoy!
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
Tumblr media
The halls of this castle are intimately familiar to you, having walked them a thousand times over when your closest friend lived here with his family and a thousand more working here as a maid, keeping an eye on the palace and its new residents while Azriel and his allies found a way to take back his power and his rightful seat on the throne.
You've worked tirelessly for this moment, dreamed of it more times than you could ever count, but now that the walls were painted in the traitors' blood and his intoxicating scent permeates the halls once again, you found yourself at a loss, slowly making your way to the throne room to meet him, one foot in front of the other, letting your body guide you as your mind wandered.
Azriel has been by your side for as long as you can remember, even before you truly knew what him being the heir to the Shadow Throne truly meant. Your father was exceptional at his job, landing him not only the position of Head Healer of the kingdom but also the King's private healer. This meant he spent a lot of his time at the palace, becoming an important figure in the court.
Azriel's father was cruel, manipulative and nothing short of terrifying. As much as you resented your father, you could understand why he was too scared to go against his wishes, always following every order without question, even when that included bringing you to the palace to be the heir's friend whether you liked to or not.
When your father first told you of the King's decision to let you and Azriel be friends since you were about the same age and he thought you'd be a good influence on him, you had been scared out of your wits, crying your eyes out and begging him not to take you with him, all in vain of course. You had never met Azriel before and so you expected him to be just as heartless as his father and older brothers, no one you ever wanted to spend any time with let alone befriend.
The stories circulating the kingdom weren't kind to him either - people talked of the bastard's son with poorly concealed disdain, about how he had lived locked in a tower, barely taken care of for most of his life until against all odds the shadow's chose him as successor instead of his full noble-blooded brother's; everyone seemed to think he wasn't worthy of the throne since he was the son of a maid and barely educated, completely neglected since birth, but alas the shadows had made their decision, and no one, not even the King, could go against their wishes.
Azriel was a shadow of the male he is now when you met him, too shy and traumatized to even look you in the eye or speak a word to you, sticking to the corners of the room, hiding himself as best as he could in the midst of his shadows. You were only nine when you met him, a year younger than him, and even then you couldn't imagine all the pain he had gone through, vowing to help him and stay by his side as you watched him cower away from the light, dressed in expensive clothing as if that would hide all the pain and suffering he had been subjected to.
Actually befriending him was harder than you initially thought. You spent countless days simply trying to get him to speak a word to you, almost wearing yourself out as you talked and talked, about anything and everything, trying to find something that would catch his attention and get him used to your presence. Gradually he started opening up more, answering your questions with a nod or shake of his head, and then a word or two, until bit by bit you started having full conversations, his voice rising in volume with time as well. His other lessons helped make him more confident in himself too as he found his place in the world.
Azriel told you about his mother and how much he missed her; about the treatment he endured in that cold tower and how sometimes he still wished he was there instead of next to his father; how his older brother's retaliated for not being chosen by burning his hands when he was only a child who didn't even know what it meant, how his hands still ached at the smell of fire and just the sight of the marred skin sent a stabbing pain through his heart, keeping them concealed with leather gloves most of the time. It was only years later when he let you see them and hold them in your own, the same night he told you he had been sneaking outside the palace, making other friends and traveling his kingdom as far as his wings allowed him, taking you with him for the first time.
The days you spent sneaking away with him and the new friends you made were some of the best of your life, the only ones where you had truly felt free, but sadly they wouldn't last. Shortly after Azriel came of age, his oldest brother killed his father and seized the throne, chasing Azriel and every sympathizer out of the palace and forcing him to go into hiding. You've barely seen him since then, only managing a few secret meetings over the years while he prepared to take back his crown.
Your father had been among the casualties and your family's sudden fall from grace landed you a job cleaning the palace where that hateful usurper now lived. Unwilling to resign yourself to serving the male who almost killed the only person you've ever loved, you started working as a spy, sending out encrypted letters about the movements within the palace and any important information you could get your hands on to hopefully help Azriel as much as you could.
Of course when he found out you were putting yourself in danger like that, he flew over to your house despite the search parties still raking through every corner of the kingdom. It had been the last time you spent more than a few hours with him and most of those had been spent fighting, but the memory brought a smile to your lips all the same. Even though you were screaming until your voices became hoarse, it was clear that it all stemmed from your love for each other and how worried both of you were at just the thought of the other being in danger. Azriel had also left your house with a chaste kiss to your lips, a line you had never crossed before, and a whispered promise of surviving and coming back for you, for his throne.
Taking the last turn to the throne room, you find yourself in the present, every other thought escaping your mind when you hear his voice muffled behind the door, heart swelling in your chest instantly. You only caught a glimpse of him when he first stormed the palace grounds earlier that night, unable to linger and watch as you needed to fulfill your role and help every innocent bystander escape through the back doors.
Judging by the blood and the few corpses still scattered throughout the halls, you missed a hard-won battle, but the lack of urgency in the sentry sent by Azriel to get you told you there weren't any severe injuries to worry about, among your friends at least. As excited as you had been for tonight, the thought that Azriel could get hurt kept you up for days.
The smell of smoke still lingered in the air and you found yourself twisting your hands together, wondering if the smell still brought him the same awful memories, wondering if you still knew him after all this time, if it would all be the same.
Raising a shaky hand to open the door, you find five pairs of eyes falling on you as soon as the room is revealed to you, hands reaching for their swords before noticing it was you and not any lingering soldiers, still on high alert from the fight. Their reaction makes you pause, startled momentarily before taking another step into the room when their serious faces turn into smiles.
It had been a long time since you've seen the neighboring kingdom's prince, - King, you correct yourself, - his general and his cousin. You've met them when you used to sneak out with Azriel, spent countless nights together causing harmless trouble as youths do. They had been with Azriel when you couldn't, helping him get to this point from the front lines while you stayed behind in the palace. Amren also stood by their side, the centuries old mage looked as unnerving and unruffled as ever, perhaps the best kind of ally Azriel could ask for.
Speaking of, your eyes quickly dart around the room, finding those beautiful hazel eyes at last, heart stalling in your chest when you find them already expecting yours. Azriel was sitting on the throne, on his throne, clad in black leathers as his shadows lazed around his body. His shoulders had gotten broader and his powerful wings were sitting up high behind him, unbelievably large, the blood of his enemies still staining his armor - the perfect image of a King.
A smile falls over his stupidly handsome face when his eyes meet yours, standing up to greet you immediately. This sets you in motion, your steps speeding up as your body carries you to him, barely acknowledging the rest of your friends as they excused themselves with knowing smiles, closing the door behind themselves just as you walked up the last steps to the throne, throwing your arms around Azriel's neck, a gleeful chuckle escaping him, catching you in his arms effortlessly, wings wrapping themselves around you as well.
It was almost overwhelming being able to hold him in your arms after so long, feeling his warmth against your body, his scent assaulting your senses as you breathe him in, vowing to never let him leave you behind ever again. You're unsure how much time passes before he pulls away, gently prying your face from his neck so he can study your teary-eyed expression intently, one arm still wrapped around your waist as he takes you in.
Gods, you almost forgot how downright mesmerizing he was. From this close you could count his eyelashes and every green speck in his hazel eyes, if you moved just a breath closer, your nose would bump against his, another one and his lips would fall on yours. His hand craddled your cheek, his bare hand you noted, the rough, familiar texture sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers caressed your skin softly.
“We did it,” you breathe out, watching the smile on his face grow even wider, a breathtaking sight. He leans down, kissing your other cheek and murmuring the same words back at you against your skin, relief clinging to every word.
His body was still somewhat tense against yours, wings tightening behind him every so often as his breath came out in puffs, his lips peppering small kisses from your cheek up to your forehead and then down to your jaw, trying to reach every bit of skin while you tried to check him for injuries or any other sign of discomfort, remembering he had just come back from battle.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
Azriel simply shakes his head against you in lieu of an answer, tucking himself deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in again, his hold on your body tightening as well.
“Is it too much to bear?”
When his brother took over he didn't only steal his father's shadows but also Azriel's. It had been strange to see him without those wisps of darkness clinging to his form, unnerving even, and you know that becoming accustomed to not having them by his side was the hardest trial for him to overcome. But now that his brother was dead and he finally sat on his throne, his shadows had returned to him at last, and the ones who were once his father's followed them.
“Could be worse,” he says, a shudder betraying his attempt at a leveled tone. “They like the scent of blood.”
A tremble runs through your treacherous body, the low timber of his voice as he spoke against your skin, lips brushing you with every word making it hard to keep your mind working properly. He hums at your body's reaction, tongue peaking out to lick over your pulse point, feeling your heart racing faster and faster under him.
“Azriel-”
“They like yours even more. Always did.”
The confession hangs in the air as he continues to lap up at your skin, his teeth coming out to play and mark you ever so softly, teasing your supple skin. It looked like he was barely restraining himself, trying his best to hold onto sanity while you trembled in his arms.
You knew having this many shadows suddenly singing to him had to be extremely overwhelming after so long stuck in silence, the power that came with them and now also rumbled under his skin even more so. He needed an outlet, and you both knew the blood he already spilled wasn't nearly enough.
“Let me help you.”
The groan that escaped him echoed around the room, pulling away from your neck with a harsh bite and finding your lips before you could even react, finally unleashing himself at your proposal. His shadows followed his lead as always, falling over your body as he did, twisting and turning as they roamed over you. A frenzy overtook you as well, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel him under your skin, so deep he wouldn't be able to escape ever again.
The lights deemed even further around you, until only the moonlight filtered through his shadows, making it hard to see when you managed to pull away and take a breath, your eyes blinking as you tried to watch him in the dark. He had no such problem of course, unashamedly studying your face as you recovered, biting your bottom lip and licking at the drool gathered in the corners of your mouth, moaning at the way your scent deeped with arousal and mingled with his own.
The lines had always been blurred at best between the two of you, fear the only thing keeping them intact in the first place, but now you didn't have to worry for his or your safety anymore, about what his or your parents would think or do if they found a weakness in the other, now you could finally give in to each other without worries.
It had always been a poorly concealed secret how much you wanted each other anyway, and now that nothing was stopping you and he was finally in your arms, you could barely keep this craving down. You could only imagine what it felt like for him with the addition of the new untamed power running through his veins and the pesky shadows whispering in his ear.
Azriel starts walking backwards until he reaches his throne, bringing you along with him for the entire way as he catches your lips between his once again, sending your mind stumbling along with your feet. When he sits down, your body naturally follows to straddle his thighs, and you pull away with a gasp, his hard cock pressing where you need him most.
The maid's uniform you still wore was thrown over your head in a flurry of movements, revealing your unmarked and unobstructed body to his hungry gaze. Unable to stop himself, Azriel leaned closer, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his hands moved all over your body, caressing and grabbing every bit of skin and flesh he could, leaving you tugging at his leathers so you too could rid him of the bothersome clothes blocking your view, as good as you always thought he looked in them.
It's only with a whine of his name and a particularly harsh tug at his black, messy curls that he pulls himself away from you and helps you take the top part of his leathers off. You had been right about his shoulders getting broader, his entire body looked more muscular too. Of course the heir to the throne had been training since he was a child and Azriel had always been a large male, but after having to literally fight to survive, he was left with cleaner muscles, and quite a few scars you had never seen before scattered over his torso, making a mental note to ask him about them later.
He barely gave you any time to fully take him in, moving to unbutton his pants without pause, settling for pushing them down only enough to uncover his throbbing cock, your attention quickly falling on it. Your hand wraps itself around him in curiosity, a delicious shudder running through him as you tighten your hold around his cock, stroking him up and down slowly, reveling in every harsh breath and the pool of desire growing in his eyes.
“I need more, angel.”
Nodding, you agree with him. “Me too.” You needed all of him, needed him to fill you up until he was the only thing you could smell, taste and feel.
He rips your underwear off unceremoniously, inserting two of his fingers inside you as slowly as his frenzied state of mind allows you to, your own body ignoring the slight pang of pain at the sudden intrusion as your hips start rolling into his hand feverishly. You were beyond soaked, the sounds his fingers elicited as he fucked them into you downright sinful as they echoed around the room along with soft moans and gasps of his name.
Azriel seemed transfixed on the way your cunt swallowed his fingers greedily, the hazel in his eyes barely visible around his blown out pupils. Gods, if you didn't stop him you think you would end up cumming entirely too fast which is why as much as it pained you to, you grabbed onto his wrist and stopped his movements, breathing out a rushed “Need you now,” when he looked up at you in question.
You used your grip on his cock to guide him to your entrance, lifting yourself up on your knees as his hands fell over your hips, helping you along, shivering when the head pressed against your cunt. Pressing down on him with a whimper, you let your weight drag you down his length slowly, throwing your head back with a loud moan at the stretch, walls fluttering wildly around him as they struggled to accommodate the delicious intrusion until he finally bottoms out, your body shaking uncontrollably on top of him.
Your lips find his yet again, getting lost in his taste as you start moving against him, his hands grabbing onto your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds you down on him, breathy whines and moans swallowed in a passionate kiss, only pulling away when you start speeding up, moving up and down his length as his hips start meeting your thrusts, your hands holding onto the arms of the throne for better leverage, the way he was stretching you out and hitting every earth shattering angle threatening to make you lose yourself.
There was no doubt in your mind that anyone that walked by this hall could hear you, but you truly couldn't bring yourself to care about them, or that the walls were still covered in blood, or anything else for that matter. You had waited too long for this, to kiss him like this, to hold him like this, to feel him like this.
“You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this,” he manages between pants, eyes darting around as he tries to take the maddening sight before him fully, only receiving a feverish moan in response from you, unforgivingly close to the edge as you were.
Hazel eyes darted around your body as he tried to take the maddening sight before him fully, taking note of the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, mouth agape as the sweetest whines and gasps escaped unattended; the way your body moved with each roll of your hips, breasts bouncing as you did; and how perfectly you fit together, his cock disappearing inside you with every thrust.
His hands move down to your thighs, lifting your hips on his own now, your body simply following his lead, letting him take control as you moan out his name unabashedly. For a moment Azriel thinks his shadows, the crown and even the throne he was sitting on meant nothing if he didn't have you by his side, if he couldn't feel you like this again.
“Are you close, my love?”
One of your hands falls to hold onto his, needing to ground yourself, needing to feel him on every inch of your skin, needing to know this was real. Struggling to even breathe as he repeatedly hits every pleasure spot inside you, leaving you on the brink of madness.
“So close, Az.”
“Let go for me. Show me how sweet reality can be,” he murmurs breathlessly, obviously dangerously close himself. “Need you to give me everything, need to feel you falling apart on my cock.”
And fall apart you did, a gasp escaping your lips as an overwhelming amount of pleasure takes you under, drowning you completely under the waves as the world stands still, your body falling forward and shaking against him. Azriel keeps fucking into you, taking this new position as an opportunity to thrust into you even harder, chasing his own orgasm at the same time he prolongs yours.
You reach a hand out to caress the talon of his wing at the last minute, reminded of how sensitive they were, being immediately rewarded with a delicious whine of your name as he lets go, fucking his cum deep inside you with jerky motions until you were both spent, chests rising and falling against each other as you caught your breaths, meeting halfway in a kiss, his shadows covering your bodies once again.
Pulling away proves to be a monumental task, his lips chasing yours every time you try, having to push against his chest as you straighten your spine, trying to ignore his half hard cock still tucked inside you as he leans back against his throne, letting out a chuckle when he tries to pull you back to him and you send him a poor attempt at a glare, the smile plastered on your face and the fucked out look in your eyes making it less than believable.
“Do you feel better now?”
“I feel perfect,” he sighs dreamily, gazing up at you adoringly as his thumbs draw circles over your heated skin.
“So…” You trail off, not quite knowing what to say in this situation. After dreaming of not only having him back but also making him yours so many times, you couldn't find the right words now that it actually happened. “You're back.”
“I'm back, my love,” he confirms, cupping your cheek once again and rising up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, the new pet name sending goosebumps traveling across your skin, your heart so full it felt like it would explode out of your ribcage.
“I had a speech ready, you know?”
“A speech?”
“I had every intention of talking to you before this happened, but words won't ever be enough to describe how much I love you.”
His words paired with the look in his eyes were making you beyond giddy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you once more, drunk on your taste, unable to ever get enough.
“Say it again.”
Azriel lets out a delighted chuckle, pulling away so he can watch your face, taking you in before indulging you as he stares deep into your eyes.
“I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember,” he starts, voice soft as he did, “If I hadn't met you I wouldn't have been able to survive my father's cruelty, and if I didn't know you were waiting for me here, I wouldn't have been able to find the strength to come back and take back the throne. I owe you my life.” Tears gather in both of your eyes as he leans his forehead on yours, continuing, “The years I spent away from you were the hardest I've had to endure, and now that I finally have you back by my side, I won't ever let go. I don't want to spend even another second away from you.”
“I love you too,” you breathe, your heart so full it felt like you couldn't contain all your love for him inside.
Azriel kisses you again, tears now streaming down your faces as you cling to each other. He was right, words could never be enough to describe this moment, let alone the love you shared, but you were willing to whisper them as many times as you could until there was no breath left in your lungs.
255 notes · View notes
arcanewhoosh · 2 days ago
Note
Could you right a story where jinx’s S/O is scared of bombs or loud things in general and one of jinx bombs went off scaring S/O and jinx comforts them.
So I forgot that the inbox was a thing and found this two years after you asked for it. Sorry lmao.
I think I completely failed this cause I chose season 1 Jinx and hooboy Season 2 Jinx would've been a better choice.
Also this went over 2k words I realize I may be a yapper.
The Monsters We Allow
2k words (Jesus this wasn't supposed to be this long)
Proofread? Y/N
TW: Descriptions of injuries
You're no stranger to the hazards of working for the Eye of Zaun. Even the more hardened residents of the Undercity oftentimes couldn't stomach some of the work the job entailed, more so the people involved in those jobs.
So now here you were, helping build an explosive device of some sort. Fishbones Jinx had called it. You guess that you should add assistant weapons maker to the long list of jobs you've held working for Silco over the years. It wasn't always like this, though.
You started out as cleanup crew, showing up after fights. You didn't want to at first, but if you crossed Silco, you'd most definitely cross his daughter, Jinx. If you crossed his daughter, then it was almost a certainty that you would end up in pieces and puddles on the walls and floors. You'd rather be the one cleaning than be the one being cleaned up. So you put your head down and went along with it.
It was messy work, but it turns out even with all the fucked up things tolerated in the Undercity, rotting body parts weren't one of them. It wasn't pretty, and your first few days you had to include your vomit in the list of things you had to clean up. Eventually, though, you got over it, got better. Well enough that Silco would only trust you to do cleanups of whichever unfortunate soul was on the receiving end of Jinx's chompers. You could figure out which weapon was used to do what, what the direction of the splatter on the wall or floor meant. You could look at a scene once and replay how the entire fight went.
The job wasn't pretty, not at all, but it put money in your pockets, good money. It put food on your table and clothes on your back. Most importantly, it gave you security. A blanket of protection that ensured people would think twice to cross you. Silco only kept a select few on constant contract. Sure, you didn't run around beating the shit out of people during collections, or blowing them up. You didn't have a robot arm or guns-choice of weapon was bucket and shovel-- but hey, you were deeper in his inner circle than most people.
Eventually, he started bringing you along to meetings. After those meetings, he'd ask you, What's the quickest, and cleanest way we can get rid of this person?
It was jarring at first, being asked how to kill someone. But whatever reservations you had about becoming a murder consultant was heavily outweighed by your fear of being the one consulted about. So you'd answer diligently, if a little hesitantly. The first time you answered, he had looked pleasantly surprised. As if getting recommendations on assassination was pleasant. You remembered thinking.
It didn't take long for people of the Undercity to associate your presence in these tag-alongs with the sudden death of whoever you and Silco were visiting. Whispers about how you wouldn't even talk during the meetings, how you'd sit and simply look around. If you were addressed by the person you were meeting with, Silco would politely redirect their attention back to him. Sometimes, sometimes, that person wouldn't die. Silco once credited it to you, that people suddenly became more pliable once he brought you along. Another blanket of security. People started treating you differently, more respect, fear maybe. It was a little funny, how typically aggressive brutes would become the politest people towards someone who had just barely reached the age of eighteen.
One day, Silco had asked you to his office. You thought it would just be regular stop before another meeting, standard procedure by then, really. But that day he had another guest in his office. The blue braids were already a dead giveaway, but you still politely introduced yourself.  She laughed, and identified you as The one who ruins my fun because she had to follow your instructions when Silco needed her to get rid of people.
You knew back then that she was dangerous. Quite frankly, she scared the shit out of you. You didn't have a problem with seeing dead bodies and parts, sure. But she was younger than you, and already had no qualms about taking lives. She was the one leaving behind entrails that you had to clean up. And apparently, she was now to be occasionally under your watch. Silco thought you'd be a good fit for a companion. Around the same age, he had said.
You kept a respectful distance from her, but she unfortunately grew fond of you and decided to keep you around more often than not. Silco didn't see anything wrong with it, if anything it made the both of you more notorious. His Loose Cannon and his Harbinger of Death. A deadly combination in theory, but in practice, it was mostly you having to accompany Jinx for her less dangerous - there were still casualties - pranks, and bailing her out of sticky situations.
And now here you were, two years later, making a launcher with her- making was a generous word, more handing her stuff - and getting ready to probably blow more people up.
You feel your stomach begin to unsettle again. You were used to seeing dead bodies, parts of bodies, what was left of bodies. But never in the stretch of time that you had worked for Silco, had you ever had to see dying. You always showed up after. It had only been two days since the explosion at the bridge, but somehow Jinx was walking around as if nothing had even happened to her. As if she didn't blow herself up the last time you had seen her. If you were making an educated guess based off of her eyes, you'd say she was hurt and got pumped full of shimmer; or maybe she was just living off of pure mania at this point.
You've cared for her, but now you also care about her. It seems that no matter how much respectful distance you put between yourself and her, propinquity eventually came into play, and affection followed. And the only sense you had was to go along with it.
It took you a while to get used to being around her. She was temperamental, to say the least. But you eventually learned not to ask any questions about her family, not to bring up the dolls she kept at her place, and avoid asking any questions at all about her past. If she wanted to, she'd tell you. The only time she wasn't unpredictable was when she was tinkering away at her little station, blasting her music.
She was calm, placated, almost normal. If you had never met her before and had seen her then, you would have thought she was beautiful. Not that she isn't, it's just that her reputation tended to precede all her other perceivable qualities. More than all of this, she was vulnerable. Her back turned to you, not a care in the world if you wandered around touching things. You realize now that it was in those moments probably that your affection for the girl grew. All of a sudden, getting her out of unideal predicaments included treating her wounds; then nursing her back to health if she was sick; staying over when she had nightmares. And yet you were still cautious, careful not to trip on some invisible wire that would trigger her temper.
"Whoops-"
A bang, a clattering of tools, and you're back at the bridge. Back at looking at screaming people, crawling on the ground because their legs had been blown clean off, some with limbs partially attached, some falling off, someone trying to feel where half of their face had gone. All moving, breathing, alive.
"Easy there, jelly legs." You look up to meet Jinx's eyes. Once a soft powder blue, now striking orbs of red violet. She's holding onto you. At some point you had lost your balance and was now kneeling on the floor, one hand on the side of Jinx's desk for support. "You sick or somethin'?" She asks.
"Sorry," You breathe out. "I think… I think I'm still reeling from what happened at the bridge."
She lets out a laugh. Loud, boisterous, manic.
"The bridge? The little ol' light show? You didn't like it?" Her smile falls, and she cocks her head to the side. Fuck.
Now you're on thin ice. "No, no. It was nice." You quickly say, shaking your head. "It's just, I'm not- I'm not used to seeing the before part, you know?"
She guffaws. "Wait, wait, wait." She stands, walking over to her desk littered with metal scraps and remnants of her previous projects, picking up one of the butterfly robots she had made. "You're telling me-" She plucks off a wing, the remaining one flapping aimlessly. "You" Points it at you. "Who's in charge of cleaning up exploded bodies, and telling Silco - who tells me - how to kill someone without a mess," Plucks off the other wing and throws the body away. "Gets queasy over a few blue bellies kicking the bucket?"
You take a breath to steady yourself. "I don't know. I never- I never thought about that part. I've never had to see it."  You unconsciously start clenching and unclenching you hand not holding onto the desk. A nervous habit, one that you tried to shake off. A habit that Jinx had taken note of the first few months of her dragging you along with her escapades.
"I'm sorry." You say after a few beats of silence.
In one quick flash - too quick, inhumanly quick - Jinx is kneeling again in front of you, cupping your face in her hands.  "Hey now, it's alright." Her tone is soft, caring, tragically comforting to you. "We all got our little quirks. I sure do."
She frees up one of her hands to brush your hair back. "Come to think of it, I think that was the first time you had to see something like that, huh?"
It always astounds you how quickly she can disarm the guard you put up for her. You know she's dangerous, you know you should be cautious. But a few sweet words from her and you're putty in her hands, completely at her mercy. You wonder if it's normal to love and fear someone at the same time.
"We'll be okay." She presses her forehead against yours. "I've got you, like you've got me." You nod.
"You can handle helping me with one more thing, right?" There it is. "We just need to do this one teeny thing, and then we can chill out."
You put in active effort to keep your breathing steady. Your stomach still in knots. "What thing?"
She grins. "A dinner party. You're my co-host." She pulls you up with her as she stands, leading you over to where she was working, where Fishbones was seemingly complete. "Wanna see something cool?"
You nod, and she fishes out the HexTech gemstone she had stolen during Progress Day. She opens up a slot near the handle and inserts the gemstone, Fishbones immediately lighting up, a blue hue illuminating her dark room. You contemplate asking her about her new weapon, weighing out the pros and cons. But the fact that her hand was still holding yours, her thumb idly grazing your knuckles was enough to encourage you.
"What are you gonna do with this?"
She runs her free hand above the clear panel where the gemstone is. "We're gonna go make a point."
The rational part of your brain is telling you to stay behind, that whatever this was, being in the vicinity of a HexTech-powered weapon was not a good idea. But this was Jinx, and she had already decided that you were coming with her. Incurring her wrath now, also in the vicinity of the HexTech-powered weapon, was not a good idea either.
So you do what you do best, and go along with it.
225 notes · View notes
consistantly-changing · 10 hours ago
Text
[Image descriptions in order: a photo of a sign in a school, which says "don't be a target: Bullies pick on people that they think are weak and quiet. Look the bully in the eye, use a strong voice and tell them you don't like what they are doing and to stop. Then walk away. Next time, the bully may choose somebody else to pick on."
On the sign, there is a simple drawing of a boy in a red shirt with a white number one in the centre, holding his pointer finger up. In front of the boy there is a "no" symbol, followed by the text "to bullying".]
[A Facebook post by Sophie Labelle, which says:
(capitalized) hoo boy. (End capitalization)
I know I should just toss this overstuffed suitcase straight into the nearest dumpster fire, but it'll be much more satisfying to unpack each item and throw it into roaring flames one by one.
That's a very long-winded way of saying "We're a bunch of social darwinists who don't want to do our jobs."
Does whoever created this monstrosity even know the definition of bullying? The bullies know you don't like what they're doing, that's why they're doing it, you dipshits.
The first rule of Survivor Club is that you never fucking turn your back to your abuser. The corollary to the first rule of Survivor Club is that you ESPECIALLY don't fucking turn your back to your abuser right after confronting them. It must be nice to be sheltered enough that you reached adulthood (and then some) without having to learn this.]
[There's a reason that bullies are gonna make life hell for the gender-ambiguous black kid who doesn't make eye contact, and there's a reason why said kid is likely to go quiet. It's because both parties know that school authorities won't lift a finger for an autistic kid, a child of color, or a gender nonconforming kid, let alone someone who's all three. They also know that the minute the victim stands up to their bullies in a way that actually fucking works well enough to get them to back down and go hide behind an adult, that adult will go into Zero Tolerance Mode and punish (only) the victim for being "just as bad."
This poster just feeds into the problem by presenting bullying as an inevitable part of education rather than a choice that humans of all ages can just not make or condone, tacitly or otherwise.
I get the impression that none of the alleged educators at this school ever actually read Lord of the Flies, because if they had, they'd know it was pretty clearly not supposed to be aspirational.]
[And let's not forget
7. If they were gonna give the reader a big "fuck you," they could've at least drawn the right finger.]
[A screenshot of the comments, which say:
Courtney McIntyre: I'm sorry "next time, the bully may choose somebody else to pick on" WHAT? Because THAT'S the correct outcome???
Garnet Shredder: Was just coming here to say this, should've included that on the list too haha
Joe Ricciardelli: No way to stop bullies so we won't try. Good luck kids, try to pass them off to another target.😁👍]
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
40K notes · View notes