#and suddenly I feel like I am.. running out of time

[imaginespazzi]

Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas) 

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it. 

Until now. 

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi. 

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life. 

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests. 

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest. 

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama. 

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too. 

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need  something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet. 

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything. 

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at. 

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose. 

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely. 

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily. 

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues. 

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum. 

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps. 

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first. 

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck. 

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much. 

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want. 

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew. 

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls. 

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks. 

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream. 

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways. 

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt. 

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead. 

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags. 

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt. 

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face. 

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors. 

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her. 

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi. 

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde. 

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.” 

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms. 

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing,  “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them. 

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can. 

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing. 

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it. 

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth. 

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago. 

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing. 

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach. 

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual. 

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever. 

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly. 

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing. 

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone. 

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly. 

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning. 

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing. 

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in. 

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery. 

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips. 

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep  -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply. 

Good morning Paigey <3 

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply. 

I miss you baby. 

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead. 

I love you Paige. 

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her. 

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream. 

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return. 

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette. 

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch. 

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief. 

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts. 

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone. 

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips. 

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest. 

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still. 

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?” 

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight. 

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend. 

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree) 

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder. 

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer-  and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it. 

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt. 

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head. 

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy. 

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder. 

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips. 

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.  

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless. 

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other. 

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender. 

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot. 

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them. 

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year. 

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you) 

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids. 

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek. 

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever. 

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it. 

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents. 

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister. 

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder. 

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is. 

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is. 

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, ticking him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask. 

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-size blue one. 

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands. 

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest. 

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart. 

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves. 

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi  turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing. 

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols. 

“Open it,” Azzi says softly. 

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands. 

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what��s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding. 

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words. 

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture  “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.” 

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

[knavesflames]

Arlecchino’s Christmas Gift

Hello omg sorry for not posting I’ve been crashing out in terms of physical health (yes yes, I’m sick again, yay me!!)

Anyway, a little Christmas present for you all. Apologies if the standard is not Normal, but it will be soon.

Word count: 1497

Contents: soft Arlecchino, bottom!Arlecchino, fingering

Nsft utc<3

Christmas is a busy time for the House of the Hearth. With God knows how many children, Arlecchino works hard to make sure they all have a lovely day. Barbecues are out of the question, the snowflakes sticking to the ground a definite rejection of yet another barbecue. Instead, she opts for cooking a huge feast (or rather, you cook, she tells you to stop adding seasoning).

Watching the children eat and open the gifts she’s spent too much mora on, you can see that her eyes have softened significantly, even if her smile is small and barely there. “I don’t want gifts,” she’ll mutter when you ask her what she wants, she does it every year. “Gifts are unnecessary and superficial. The children receive them because they are children.”

You think she says this because she doesn’t know how to receive gifts. The House of the Hearth before was.. unkind, to say the least. The poor woman has been so busy, she’s barely had time to think about herself (you wonder if that’s the point), you know very well that the children are her priority, always. You, too. She’s made it abundantly clear multiple times to multiple times that it’s you and the children who come first.

When you see her sigh and wipe her forehead in slight frustration, you start to get an idea of what you can give her. Something she wouldn’t deem superficial, something she looks like she needs. And of course, when you excuse yourself early with the claim that you’re ’so tired’ and ‘the day has been exhausting’, she lets you leave with a soft kiss on your forehead and a murmur of affection. You don’t go to sleep, though, no. You wait until you hear the children leave the main dining hall and shuffle to their rooms to sleep before you start putting your plan in motion. You know she won’t go to bed for a little bit, she never does.

You waste no time in making yourself her gift. Putting on the lingerie you know she adores, dimming the lights and putting the small box of.. objects, by the bed, you position yourself comfortably. With clumsy movements, you manage to tie the ribbon around your wrists the way she’s done to you so many times. You admit it’s difficult, doing it with one working hand, but you get it done well enough. Then, what else is there to do but wait? The whole idea is for her to feel better and have whatever relief she desires, but you can’t help but feel excitement bubbling inside of you with every second that passes. She doesn’t feel good unless you feel good. That became obvious when she couldn’t cum until you were just as desperate as she was.

You let out a small breath when you finally hear her soft footsteps, and you’re trying to picture her reaction in your head. For some reason, you suddenly become nervous— what if she just wants to go to bed, or what if she just hates the idea? The ideas run through your head until—

“My dear?”

Your thoughts are cut short when your eyes snap to her. She looks a little shocked, her lips parted slightly, and her eyes scanning you, but she doesn’t seem repulsed or uninterested.

“Merry Christmas. You dislike gifts because they’re superficial, but I’m not, am I?”

Arlecchino swallows, her throat suddenly dry. You’ve always been the thing that gets her to react the most, both of you know that. Her words falter for a second before she manages to murmur.

“No, no you are not,” taking a step forward, then another, her hand reaching out to graze your skin gently. “Archons, look at you. You’re beautiful. All wrapped up, too.”

You smile sweetly at her, all worries dissipating at the look on her face. For someone as ruthless as her, she certainly softens up when you’re around, her touch gentle and her words quiet.

“How long did that take you? Wrapping oneself with one hand is a difficult task, no?”

“It took a while. Worth it to see your face. You can undo it if you want, or you can keep them like this.”

“Stay like that.”

“Okay.” Your own words are a whisper, and you continue to smile softly up at her. Her hands are delicate when they move over your skin, nails gently scratching in the places she knows makes you shiver.

“You wore my favourite.”

“For you.”

“You’re too good to me.” A breath, barely a whisper, but it’s heard nonetheless. It was only for you to hear anyway. She leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips until you return the kiss, letting her tongue meet yours with a soft sigh. You go to wrap your arms around her, before remembering that you have, in fact, tied yourself up. You think you feel her smile slightly into the kiss before her hand wraps firmly around your binded wrists.

Her kisses move downwards, sucking gently at the pulse point of your neck to feel you shiver. She seems to enjoy doing that, working you up only to make you wait. But, as promised, it’s her turn tonight, so you don’t complain. When she’s satisfied that your hands will stay in place and won’t struggle to get out of the ribbon restraints, her hand moves, fingers ghosting the hem of your underwear before slowly pulling it down. You help her, lifting your hips and stretching your legs so they’ll come off as quickly as possible. When they do come off, landing on the floor with a quiet noise, she leans on the bed, knee parting your legs.

Arlecchino grumbles when she realises she’s still fully clothed, and you think you see her hands trembling as she quickly fumbles to unbutton every single button she has and shed the fabric. She returns to her place soon after, her bare skin warmer than flames against yours. Her knee resumes its actions, pushing your legs apart until it meets your core, already aching. You gasp, and she relishes in the sound. She does the movement again before stopping. Digits move swiftly in finally unwrapping the ribbon around your wrists, tossing it to the side.

“I need you,” Arlecchino mutters, almost like she’s embarrassed. “I need you. Please.”

“How?” Although you enjoy occasionally being dominant, you can’t bring yourself to tonight. The poor woman has been so stressed, and this is her gift, after all.

“You know how.”

“Fingers or tongue, Peruere?”

She gasps at the usage of her actual name, her movements of her hands caressing each part of your body she can reach before she manages to speak.

“Fingers. Please.”

So, you waste no time in letting your own hand slip between her legs, moving until you find her clit. You give it a few experimental rubs, finding a rhythm she seems to enjoy before letting your lips land on her neck. You’d tease her for the quiet gasps she lets out, or for the way your fingers slide so easily into her, but you don’t think you have it in you, especially not when her hips start rocking into your hand with a rhythm so messy it’s almost pathetic, in an affectionate way. But she’s getting impatient and frustrated, and she can’t chase what she wants so badly with the rhythm she has.

You let her try for a bit longer, but the small whine that escapes her usually quiet mouth almost makes you feel bad. So, your free hand moves to her hip, gently stopping her before guiding her into a rhythm that causes all sounds to cease— only out of pure pleasure, her mouth hanging open and her eyes, usually so piercing, squeezed shut.

“It’s good?” You hum, struggling to contain the small giggle at the sight of her as needy as she is now.

“Quite.” Comes the only strained reply before her head buries back into your neck. She’s close, you can tell that much by the way she clenches around your curling fingers again and again.

“Are you going to cum for me, Peruere?”

“Yes, for you, yes.” She rasps out. It’s a struggle for her to get out any words at all by this point, and anything she does get out is less than coherent. Then her body tenses, she lets out a sound you know all too well— a mix of a grunt, groan and a whimper all in one, before she collapses onto you, her legs shaking.

You mumble sweet praises into her ear, stroking her now tousled hair until she regains her breath and stops trembling.

“Merry Christmas.” You chuckle, kissing her shoulder.

“That.. may have been the best gift I have ever had. My birthday is in August, if you’re curious.”

She’s being silly, you know that much, but you have one too many ideas to let them fizzle out now.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Ending Four: Little Omega

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

I am no longer doing tags. Tumblr hates me and I’d rather not waste my time when there are so many! You can keep up to date on Twisted Zoo on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, or AO3.

WARNINGS: yandere themes, blood

Note: This is very late and not very good, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

The zoo was bathed in a pale white under the glow of the full moon. You had never been here this late and you were beginning to believe it was a bad idea. The lions and hyenas had kept you, and you had to feed the wolves still.

The door to the exhibit creaked noisily as you opened it, carrying a bucket of steaks. You had to hurry, the zoo had already closed an hour ago. 

Unsurprisingly, Jack was waiting for you. He paced in front of the door and, when it opened, he turned to face you with childlike excitement.

You laughed at his expression and pulled a steak out of the bucket, handing it over to him. “Look, Jack, I have to be fast tonight…”

Jack looked offended.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you guys,” you reassured him, “I’m just running late.”

You peered around the clearing, not surprised to see it deserted, “Where are the other wolves then? Are they in the woods or down by the river?”

Jack looked startled, “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” you blinked, confused.

Staring at the ground as though thinking something over, Jack finally said, “I take you to them. Follow me.”

“Okay!” you said cheerfully. You held the bucket in both hands as you followed Jack into the woods.

You were a little nervous to face the other wolves again. They didn’t seem to like you much, but you secretly trusted Jack to defend you if necessary.

The trek through the woods was a long one, since you kept tripping over exposed tree roots the deeper in you got. Finally, it opened up into a clearing overlooking the river.

“What the hell happened here?”

Copious amounts of blood coated the tree trunks, the large rock, and the grass of the clearing. The grass itself was soaked in it, turned entirely red in patches. There were streaks of blood as if something was dragged and the rock had an ominous dark patch as though someone’s head had been bashed against it.

You stared at the horrifying display, unable to scream like you so desperately wanted to due to the lack of air in your lungs. Seeing all the red made you feel as though the air had been punched out of you.

“Jack, what happened?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack stared blankly at you, “They hurt you.”

“SO YOU KILLED THEM?” you screamed.

Jack looked like a kicked puppy, his ears flat against his head as he ducked, as though afraid you might hit him. A surge of guilt ran through you before you remembered what he did.

“This is insane,” you murmured, “Are all of them dead?”

“Yes,” Jack replied.

It was all so brutal… you felt yourself shutting down, gasping for breath as though there was little oxygen left in the air. Jack did this? Sweet Jack who followed you around like a lost puppy?

“Are you going to kill me?” you whimpered.

His eyes went wide, “No!”

Tears began to flow freely from your eyes and you let out a small sob. Sure, you hadn’t liked the other wolves much, but to think they were all dead…

“I need to go,” you whispered, dropping the bucket of steaks and running blindly back through the woods. You tripped over a tree root and went sprawling across the grass. To your horror, even here there were streaks of blood inches from your face, as though someone had been injured but tried to escape.

You picked yourself back up, feeling sick, and ran across the clearing to the exhibit door. You pulled hard on the handle but it refused to move. Suddenly, the floodlights to the zoo turned off, bathing you in moonlight alone.

Someone’s doing this. You realized quickly. It’s an electric lock, so someone manually locked the door from the control center.

Tearfully, you turned around and found yourself face to face with Jack. He looked like Christmas had come early.

His large hand took your smaller one into his own, his claws carefully moved out of the way so they did not scrape your skin. He examined your hand closely, intrigued by what he saw.

“Omega,” he supplied eagerly.

“Huh?”

“My little omega,” he crooned, a look on his face you’d never seen before. His pupils were dilated, eyes wide open, and a little drool ran down his chin. He leaned in close, trapping you against the door, and took a deep sniff of your scent.

“Mate,” he said, “My mate.”

“Jack, let me go,” you demanded as you tried to extract your hand from his tightening grip. But it was far too late, he had gone positively feral. His tail wagged and his ears were pricked, his dilated pupils trained on your face.

Suddenly, he lunged forward, sinking his fangs into your neck. You screamed like a banshee in both pain and surprise. You tried to push him away, but his fangs only sunk deeper. You wept bitterly, unable to push him off of you.

“My mate,” Jack pulled free of your neck and grinned down at you with bloody teeth, “Your turn.” He tilted his head to give you free access to his own neck.

Some sort of weird mating ritual… you realized quickly. You opened your mouth and pointed at your teeth, “I don’t have fangs, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look particularly bothered by this fact and merely reached down and picked you up, ignoring your squeak of fear. He held you like a baby, curling his claws into your skin, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to give a warning.

He headed back through the forest and entered a cave near the civilians’ path. It had one glass wall, so guests could see into the massive cave.

Come morning, they’d see one wolf and one broken human resting inside.

[novankenn]

Ice Cream Social?

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

Pyrrha Nikos, formerly the Goddess of Death. Once the Invincible One. Was NOT happy, and very uncomfortable. Jaune Arc, the former target of a contact killing that she had only a couple short months ago attempted to cash in on without her mother's knowledge, was dragging her into a "Mom & Pop" Ice-Cream Parlor. The once assassin now "secret" girl-friend was VERY uncomfortable in such social gatherings.

"Jaune can we?" Pyrrha tentatively asked as they prepared to enter the establishment.

"Pyr?" Jaune asked, his voice indicating his confusion at his "bodyguard's" resistance. "Is something wrong?"

"No... maybe... yes?" Pyrrha stuttered out.

"Ah... huh?" Jaune raised an eye brow. He withdrew his hand from the action of pushing open the establishment's main door. "That was... confusing. Is there something wrong, Pyr? You know you can tell me anything right?"

"Anything... su... sure. I... know that." Pyrrha replied, while her in her mind she pictured Jaune's mother and sisters giving her a glare. Pyrrha KNEW she couldn't tell Jaune the reality of the world, that she was part of, and that his family was shielding him from.

"Pyr?"

"It's just... just I feel underdressed... and I've never... gone to one of these before." Pyrrha's voice faded from tentative to barely above a whisper as she answered.

"It's an Ice Cream social, Pyr." Jaune informed her. "It's not a big deal, just a bunch of us spending money on ice-cream to help a local charity."

"But... still..." Pyrrha stammered, a slight embarrassed blush coloring her cheeks. It was a combined reaction, one from not knowing how to be average and normal, along with the fact she was acutely aware of Jaune's hands cupping own.

"Wait here." Jaune smiled, that warm goofy, comforting gesture. Pyrrha's heart skipped several beats every time he used it on her.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked suddenly wishing he hadn't released her hands.

Her scroll buzzed in her pocket as Jaune stepped through the door, leaving her alone outside. Pulling it out after loosing sight of Jaune in the crowd gathered in the shop, she opened the messaging application. It was a message from Terra. Jaune's sister-in-law, and a member of the legendary Sisters of Mercy. A fact when revealed caused Pyrrha to seriously question many of her life choices.

"Stop being a fraidy-cat and woman up, Nikos!"

"What? How? Where?" Pyrrha typed out in response.

"Inside. To your left." was the repsonse.

Pyrrha looked up from her scroll and in the direction instructed. There seated at the counter running the length of the massive plate glass windows was Terra Cotta-Arc. Eating a rather large and overly topped sundae. Pyrrha actually was surprised at just how many toppings the dusky skinned woman had piled onto the dish. So many in fact she couldn't even tell what flavor of ice-cream she was eating.

Terra smiled at the former assassin, as she took another heaping spoonful of toppings. Raising her free hand she wiggled her fingers at Pyrrha, before dropping her hand back to the table and typing something out on her scroll.

"You need to woman up there, Goddess. You won't catch Jaune's eye acting like some pre-teen school girl."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are." Terra replied. "You fell for him, not step up and stake your claim before some skank steps in."

"I would never let that happen!"

"There's that fire!" Terra replied, "Now... oh never mind."

"Huh?" Pyrrha responded, until she head the bell chime as the door was opened. Looking up, he blush became instantly nuclear. In a complete replay of their first face to face interaction Jaune was standing before her, a simple, plain ice-cream cone held out to her.

(Commissioned Image by @pilot-boi)

"Ja... Jaune?"

"Here Pyr." Jaune stepped forward holding the slowly starting to melt creamy treat. "I made my donation, and got you a treat. We can go somewhere else, if this make you that uncomfortable."

"I..." Pyrrha hesitated. Her scrolled buzzed, and she took a quick glance. It was another message from Terra.

"Pussy. Take the cone!"

"Pyr?" Jaune questioned, a look of concern, "I thought you liked vanilla? Did I mes..."

"NO!" Pyrrha shouted, startling Jaune. He almost dropped the cone, and if it wasn't for Pyrrha's honed reflexes it would have been lost to the sidewalk. "Thank you."

Jaune's faltering smile returned twenty-fold, making Pyrrha almost swoon, as he lifted the cone with a shaking hand and gave it a lick. Pyrrha actually preferred cookies-n-cream, but each time Jaune got her vanilla... it tasted like heaven.

"Good girl. ;-)" appeared on her scroll. Pyrrha hurriedly stuffed the object into her pocket before reaching out and tentatively taking Jaune's hand.

"Want some?" Pyrrha asked her cheeks glowing a vibrant red, as she held the cone out towards Jaune.

Jaune didn't lick the cone, but instead took a bite off the opposite side that she had been licking. His goofy ice-cream coated grin making Pyrrha's heart fluttered.

"Want to go for a walk in the park?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha nodded, as she let Jaune take her hand, and when he wasn't looking twisted her cone about and took her own bite off the side of the cone he had. She felt her scroll buzz, and buzz and buzz. Obviously her little action didn't go unnoticed. Pyrrha was dreading what those messages would say once she looked at them. Taking another bite from her cone, she let Jaune lead the way towards thier next destination.

[catbolt]

Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne

inspired by (and written listening to) Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence - Ryuichi Sakamoto from my zayne playlist hehe

fluff, zayne x mc, 1.3k wc

Snow crystallizes on tree branches outside in the light of the falling winter sun, each ray refracting through the icicles that frame the window and splitting into thin beams that run like streams onto the wooden floor inside. She sighs, staring out the window, mug of cocoa clenched between cold hands.

She anticipates him coming home late again. "You know, emergency room visits spike during the holiday season," Zayne had told her with a smile in the morning as he prepared to leave.

"You're not even an ER doctor," she grumbled, arms crossed. He'd laughed softly. "When people need help, I help, my dear. It's non-negotiable."

Times like this she begrudges his unrelentingly chivalrous spirit and sense of justice, although it's usually one of the qualities she likes the most about him. She waits on the couch, feeling more than a little restless. She had hoped to spend at least some part of Christmas Day with him, but as the hours ticked by on the clock, the chances of that grew slimmer and slimmer.

She doesn't text Zayne, not wanting to bother him, knowing he's likely stressed at work. She gets up from the couch with a sigh, deciding to at least busy herself with some cleaning. Her presents for him sit below the tree, untouched.

The sun sinks lower, quickly, and she grimaces, its descent through the clouds a constant reminder of the fact that the hours in this special day is running out, and so far she's spent it nearly all alone. She tidies up the dinner table, mindlessly searching through the cabinets for what to make for dinner. If Zayne won't be joining her to chastise her for her poor diet, a box (or two) of mac n cheese should do the trick to soothe her feelings.

She sighs, bending down in the pantry to grab the boxes in question, when suddenly she hears a click of the door unlocking. She shoots up in surprise, promptly banging her head into the top of the pantry cabinet. "Fuck!" she cries out, eyes screwed up in pain as she massages the back of her head.

"Hm. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting to me coming home like this."

Zayne's soft, chuckling voice filters in from the foyer, getting louder with each word. When she opens her eyes, still rubbing at the back of her head, she sees him standing in the kitchen entryway, a lush bouquet of white roses and jasmine tucked under his arm. She splutters a little, watching as he presents it to her, a small smile on his face.

"What's this about?" she says softly, taking the bouquet from him, a gentle pink flush rising on her cheeks.

"What, I can't give my girlfriend flowers?" He steps closer, closing the space between them. He's still in his white coat and scrubs underneath, and she can see the slight tiredness in his eyes. "Besides, they're an apology."

"For what?" she mutters, setting the bouquet down on the dining room table.

"For not being able to spend more of Christmas with you," he murmurs, capturing one of her hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I know you weren't happy that I had to work. I'm sorry. It wasn't ideal."

She feels a mild pang of guilt. He hadn't seemed bothered by her pouting and whining about it all of Christmas Eve, brushing it off at every turn with his signature even-keeled demeanor. But she'd misjudged him, it seems, as she searches his gaze, seeing his brow furrow slightly. "I really am sorry," he says quietly. "We couldn't open presents in the morning because I had to go to work."

"Oh..." she shakes her head. "Don't... worry about that."

"I do worry," he says softly, lowering her hand from his lips, but keeping his hold on it, thumb skating soothingly over the back of her hand. "I know it's important to you."

"It's not a big deal," she says hastily. "You didn't have to come today if--" "I wanted to come back," he says, voice carrying a bit of a harder edge now, an authoritative quality signaling it's not up for debate. "I wanted to see you. And to give you my gift."

She sighs a little, still feeling guilty. "The flowers are beautiful, Z. But you didn't have to rush back--"

His brow furrows. "That's not the gift," he says gently.

He guides her over to the couch, gesturing for her to sit down. "Just a moment," he says softly, walking off to retrieve his bag, which he begins to rummage through.

The sun has set quickly, the room now enveloped in darkness, the only light source now being the Christmas tree. The soft white lights send pinpricks of light dancing across the room. She hears a match flick, and turns around to see Zayne lighting a candle behind her, setting it down on the coffee table. A small smirk plays at her lips. "Getting romantic, are we?" He lights another candle, placing it nearby. "No," he says matter-of-factly. "Just a moment. You'll see."

She almost rolls his eyes at his inability to go with the joke, the grin lingering on her lips. He sits down on the couch opposite her, and then produces an unassuming box, flat and rectangular, tied with a dark gray ribbon. It fits in both of his hands, and he hands it over to her. "Your gift."

She looks down, fingers working through the ribbon and gently untying it. She hesitates for a moment, and then opens the box.

Inside lies a stunning, thin silver necklace, adorned with what looks like hundreds of soft blue gemstones that twinkle alluringly as soon as the candlelight hits them. Each gemstone is tear shaped, like a shimmering droplet of rain.

"Zayne..." her breath catches in her throat.

"Do you like it?" he says softly, with a hint of hesitation in her voice anyone but her would miss. She nods, and he lets out a soft hum of relief, gently lifting the necklace from the box and moving closer to fasten it around her neck.

"I lit the candles because I wanted to see how it looked in their light," he mutters softly, his breath ghosting over her ear as he attaches the necklace around her. He pulls away, his eyes watching how the glittering stones seem to dance and shift in the light.

"Beautiful," he says, voice a little hoarser than usual. She swallows softly, the space between them nearly pulsing, reverberating with unsaid words. She knows Zayne isn't much of a talker, but she's learned to be attuned to his face and body enough that she can read his emotions like a book, a consequence of the past year they've spent dating. She sees him fidget slightly, the pulse thrum slightly faster in his neck, the way his eyes flick between the jewelry and her eyes, as if watching to see how the candlelight dances there too.

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick with emotion as she takes one of his hands in her own. It's cold, as his hands always are, and she scoots a little closer to him on the couch. "It is beautiful."

He clears his throat. "I was talking about you," he says.

It's like the world falls blissfully quiet-- even the weight of all the things that they can't find the words to say say feels lighter suddenly. The feeling of his hand in hers, slowly warming between her palms, grounds her in this moment.

The tree glows softly, the lights flickering like thousands of little fireflies, casting a golden glow across the room. Under the mask of the dim light, it's like the exhaustion is erased somehow from Zayne's features, and all she can see is the warmth in his deep, forest green stare, desperately trying to push forth. She squeezes his hand. "Merry Christmas," she says softly.

"Merry Christmas," he replies, in a whisper, squeezing back.

[hrtzstargirl]

I Wanna Be Yours.

Danielle Marsh.

Synopsis: She figured it out. Why she keeps throwing you those loving eyes, after a long time of being confused finally she is certain about one thing. Being yours.

Part 1

Pairing: Danielle Marsh x 6th!member!reader

Warnings/side notes: I decided to make a part 2 of my first Danielle fic, I thought it's cute and necessary because of how the first ended🥲 I'm posting a lot these days, cuz it's winter break! I am feeling that christmas spirit that's why I'm not lazy the past few days LMAO, anyway MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

--

Danielle is confused. She's very confused, why? Because Minji's words are starting to hit her, she couldn't get her words out of her head. She's been acting different lately but is trying to mask it by being bubbly as usual.

One thing she hates the most whenever she's feeling like this or when she's out of her mind—is that you noticed. You always did and Danielle hates it. She hates how you can read her like an open book, hates it how you know her better than herself, hates it when you understand her feelings better than she does.

Due to the stress, she's been distancing herself from you and it's driving you insane. And the fact that Hanni's words seems to hit too.

Danielle slumped down on the couch, her mind seems to be drifting to somewhere else. The noises of the green room fell on her deaf ears. There she is again, zoning out, staring into the distance.

No matter how much she tried, her thoughts will always comes back to you. Your smile, you laugh, your goofiness, your loser personality, how you make her feel like she's the only girl in this world, how you treat her, you're an entire green forest in her eyes.

She always found herself staring at you from afar with that same look, the same look she and Minji talked about, the same reason why she isn't feeling like herself the past few weeks.

She couldn't shake those butterflies in her stomach, she isn't a fool, she knows what it means. She's just wasn't sure why and how.

She feels the spot next to next sink, indicating someone sat next to her. She didn't have to turn her head to look, she know who it was.

"Dani, there it is again." She heard Minji let out a deep sigh.

"Can't help it if she looks like that." Danielle replied, her eyes glued to your figure, putting the ear piece on and letting the staff members fix the wires and your clothes.

"I know, but you're making this hard on yourself."

"I'm not... I'm just—taking the time to think about this thoroughly."

"Thoroughly? Why, isn't she worth the risk?" Haerin popped out, sending Minji an apologetic smile after she flinched.

"She is. She's worth everything I have, I'm just afraid that I will hurt her in the future. Hurt her because I couldn't get myself together.." Danielle responded, giving Minji no time to scold Haerin for popping out so suddenly.

"Danielle, she's worried. She noticed how you distance yourself. She knows everything and she don't like it." Minji placed her hand on Danielle's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I know."

"You have to talk to her."

"I know."

Minji sighed, her voice softening. "Dani, sometimes the best way to figure things out is to talk about them. You owe it to yourself and to her."

"I know, just give me time." Danielle's eyes couldn't help but softened at the sight of you smiling ang giggling at something Hyein said.

"You have time, just make sure that time doesn't run out." Minji replied gently, giving Danielle's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Danielle sighed, her gaze still fixed on you. "It's just... she's so important to me. I don't want to mess this up."

Minji smiled, her tone supportive. "I understand, Dani. But sometimes, you have to take risks for the people you care about. Talk to her, let her know what's been going on. She deserves to hear it from you."

"I will, unnie."

Minji gave her a reassuring smile before leaving to annoy Hanni. Danielle's eyes lingered on you for what felt like eternity before the staffs announced that they're up on stage next.

May God have mercy on her poor heart, you're too beautiful for the world to see, they don't even deserve to see you. Before Danielle get lost in her thoughts again, you turn around, catching her eyes before giving her a small smile and leaving.

"Bro! We're up next, come on!" Hanni's loud voice called out to her.

"Yeah, coming." She muttered before standing up to join the rest of the girls.

The whole performance, her eyes always finds you, the fans noticed it, the girls, and of course you did. It confuses you, avoiding you but kept her eyes on you, what's wrong with her?

A question even herself she can't answer. She watches you dance flawlessly, entrance the audience with your voice, bring even the strongest men on their knees with your beauty.

She's down bad, she wants you and she can't do anything about it. Not until she fixes herself and her mistakes to be better for you.

Danielle felt a storm of emotions swirling inside her. Every time she looked at you, her heart ached with longing. She couldn't tear her gaze away from you, no matter how hard she tried. The connection she felt was undeniable, but her own insecurities and fears held her back.

As the performance continued, Danielle's resolve began to waver. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding you forever. Sooner or later, she would have to confront her feelings and find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to tell you how much you meant to her.

--

The night is cold, colder than usual. Maybe it's because it's winter. Snow falls from the sky, landing softly on the ground, creating a serene, white blanket over everything. The streetlights cast a warm glow, illuminating the snowflakes as they drift lazily down.

You pull your coat around yourself, breath visible in the chilly air, the snow crunch between your feet as you walk wherever they take you. It's Christmas tomorrow, it's not your favorite holiday but it's still the best.

You stare at the lights in front of you, the silly light shows of Christmas decorations twinkling in a multitude of colors. Each one seems to pulse with its own rhythm, creating a mesmerizing display. The festive cheer in the air contrasts with the turmoil in your heart, and you can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

The decorations are whimsical, with reindeer prancing and Santa Claus waving from rooftops. The trees are adorned with glittering ornaments and garlands, casting a warm, inviting glow. It's a scene straight out of a holiday movie, but your mind is elsewhere, caught up in thoughts of Danielle.

As you take in the lights, you hear footsteps approaching. Turning your head, you see Danielle walking towards you, her breath visible in the chilly air. She stops beside you, her gaze also drawn to the decorations.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She said without looking at you.

"Yeah.." You muttered a response but you weren't looking at the decorations anymore. Your gaze is now on the girl beside you, watching the lights reflect in her eyes, making them seem to sparkle, adding to the magic of the moment.

Why is she here? Wasn't she supposed to be with Haerin and Hyein? Did she ditched them to be here with me? Why is she like this..? Thoughts ran through your head, wondering and wondering.

After weeks of avoiding me, why is she here now? You couldn't help but feel an ounce of anger. She can't just ignore you and then act like nothing had happened between you two.

She turned to you, her eyes soft and held some emotions you couldn't explain—was it guilt? Sadness? Love-what? Maybe anger—why is she angry?

Your eyes stares at her face, you couldn't help but feel a weird feeling in your stomach, it's tickling yet comforting. It's a lovely feeling, she's getting beautiful each passing seconds, won't be long until she officially became a Goddess.

"Y/n." She said softly, hearing your name fall from her tongue makes you see stars, you never liked your name, but when she says it. It sounds so beautiful, like a prayer in the warm night air.

You felt a surge of emotions, your heart racing at the sound of your name spoken with such tenderness. The way she looked at you, with a mixture of hope and vulnerability, made your breath catch in your throat.

"Danielle." You replied with the same tone, the same tenderness she had used when saying your name.

A shiver ran down her spine as she heard her name spoken with such affection. It felt like the world had stopped, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth amidst the cold night air.

The snow continued to fall softly around you, each flake adding to the quiet beauty of the moment. Danielle's eyes were filled with a storm of emotions—guilt, hope, and something deeper that you couldn't quite place but made your heart beat faster.

"I've missed you." She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "I never left, Dani. Why did you miss me?"

Danielle's eyes softened, a hint of sadness and vulnerability in her gaze. "It's not about you physically being here. It's about the connection we had, the closeness. I've been avoiding you because I was scared of my feelings. But in doing so, I felt like I lost you."

You felt a ache in your heart. Of course you missed her too, you want to be mad at her for avoiding you so suddenly. Maybe this is the chance for her to enlighten you why.

"I've missed you too. More than you know." You admitted, your voice tinged with both longing and frustration.

She felt it. Danielle felt the frustration in your voice, she's angry at herself for making you suffer her pain too. All she wanted for you was to be happy, but her distance affected you as well.

"I'm so sorry, my Y/n." Her voice trembling, vulnerability can be felt. "For distancing myself, for making you feel my pain too. I never meant for it to happen."

You stare at her in softly, the sincerity and remorse in her voice cutting through the frustration you had felt. You reached out, gently lifting her chin so her eyes met yours. Wiping the tear that feel from her beautiful eye.

"I thought having time alone with myself would help me realize that I want to be the best version of myself for you. You don't deserve the Danielle who shuts everyone out whenever she feels down. No, you deserve better—the one who will come to you when she feels down, the one who will never distance herself."

Your eyes filled with confusion, why is she telling you this? "Dani, what are you talking about?"

She choked up a sob, stopping herself from crying out loud. Her guilt is eating her alive, she doesn't have the strength to hide it anymore.

"I like you—wait no scratch that. I love you." She breath out, "I love you that's why I want to be better for you. I have bad habits, Haerin asked me why do I have to think this thoroughly? It's because I don't want to hurt you one way or another. I want you to have the Danielle you deserve. And right now, I am not the best version of myself. It sucks—I know, I hate it when you notices my mood before the others. hate it when you're there for me, hate you for being so understanding and beautiful, hate it when other people try to steal you from me, hate it when—"

She didn't have time to finish when you suddenly press your lips against hers. Effectively shutting her up, she stood frozen—unable to process.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate, breathtaking moment. Danielle's eyes widened in surprise, but slowly, she began to relax into the kiss, her hands gently finding their way to your waist, while yours on her shoulders.

Before you two could get lost in each others lips, you forced yourself to pull away, your cheeks flushed red, from the cold and blush spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes fluttered open, her own cheeks mirroring the same rosy hue. She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and longing, her breath coming in soft, visible puffs in the chilly air.

"I love you too." That's all Danielle need to pull you in for another kiss, pull you closer until there was no space left between you.

The warmth of her embrace and the softness of her lips made your heart race. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. The snow continued to fall gently, creating a serene and magical backdrop for your kiss.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks flushed with a mix of cold and the intensity of your emotions. Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she smiled at you, her heart full of love.

"Please don't distance yourself again. My love, you're already the best version of yourself in my eyes, we can deal with anything as long as we're together. Promise me you won't do it again." You held out your pinky finger to her.

She smiled softly, the storm in her eyes now long gone, replaced by love and happiness. She interlocked her pinky finger with yours. "I promise."

"I wanna be yours." She whispered while staring into your eyes.

"You're already mine." You replied softly, a tender smile spreading across your face.

Danielle's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She couldn't be happier, and neither could you.

As you two shared your wonderful moment together, the girls watched from afar, Hyein was trying to bite into a candy cane, Haerin munched on cookies, while Hanni and Minji stood with pride smiles on their faces.

"How did you convinced Dani to finally talk to her?" Hanni asked, her eyes still glued to the two of you.

"I didn't, it's those two who did." Minji nodded towards the two younger members who's busy eating, earning an amuse chuckle from the other.

[dinsbeskar]

And In The Darkness Bind Them (Sauron/F!Reader)

A series of vignettes (smutty and angsty) chronicling S2 Rings of Power

Sequel to Homecoming // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Beautiful Things by Benson Boone, Replay by Lady Gaga, Hands of Gold by Peter Hollens (kudos to @missjadesfics for this one)

Warnings: 18+ only!! Little bit of fluff, mostly smut and angst! Sometimes together!! P in V sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, possessiveness/toxic relationship, overstimulation, public sex/exhibitionism, dom!Sauron (I know smh, what am I doing??), carry-fucking (y'all I am cooking here, like he is basically a god so no matter how light or heavy you are, he can definitely pick you up and fuck you stupid okay), cumplay (idk how to describe it any other way), praise/condescending/degradation (it's a wild ride lmao), so much angst, very (!!) dubious consent towards the end (sorry, Sauron really leaning into his villain era now)

A/N: Reader is mad in love with our boy in this one but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh well good luck guys idk

rather than a bunch of actual chapters, I've written a few vignettes for S2 Rings of Power (maybe I'll go back and expand on them later), starting near the start where Sauron is more Annatar, finishing at the end where he is ... very much himself. Some of the smut gets very dark, please take note of the tags!!

Word Count: 7.8k!! Wildly out of hand

The morning after Annatar climbs into your bed, you are momentarily confused to see long golden hair on the pillow next to you. Then you remember that Halbrand is no more.

“Good morning, love.” He props himself up on one arm, disentangling himself from your embrace.

You cannot help but stare at him a moment; this ethereal creature in front of you cannot be yours.

“Is it really you?” You ask him, eyes sparkling and fingers trailing over his high cheekbones, his broad firm chest, his sculpted lips.

“Always, darling.” He pulls you close, kissing your forehead.

He always smells the same, like salt and iron, smoke and musk. If your souls were to no longer recognise each other, you swear you could follow your nose to find him.

“You left so suddenly, I didn’t get to say goodbye.” You murmur into his chest, fingers entwined in his golden hair.

“I’m sorry, love, circumstances arose, I had matters to take care of, but I’m here now.”

He had set his plans in motion in Mordor, and waited for Galadriel to leave Eregion. He had a feeling that she would have told no-one there who he really was, her ego bruised and pride bleeding. He only had to wait for you to let him in. And with a little pleading, you had managed to convince Celebrimbor to open his gates.

“We should talk, properly, about what happened, the last time we saw each other. At Forodwaith.” You stutter and trip over your words, nervous to bring up the subject, but it has weighed heavily on your mind.

He sighs, running his fingers up and down your arm, unhurried and unphased.

Of course you had been angry with him when you’d found out about his plans to become Morgoth’s successor, and you stood by that anger. But knowing you had left him to die, to mourn the loss of your husband for centuries, your mind screamed at you to make it right, whatever you had to say.

“Some of the things I said were…unkind-”

“Cruel.” He interjects with a smirk; you purse your lips playfully and continue.

“But so were your deeds, and I have forgiven you. Mostly. So perhaps you should do me the same courtesy,” you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger as you prop yourself up to search his gaze, “since we are… what are we again? Oh yes…”

You lean in and whisper in his ear, “Bound in flesh and soul.”

His smile this time is dangerous, threatening, promising.

“And to think, if I were not so ravenous in my lust for you-” he grasps your wrists, pins them to the headboard with one hand and wraps his other arm around you, nose in your hair as he breathes in deeply.

“-I might have spared myself this torment.” He grins into your neck as you try to catch his lips with yours. “Not that I would have it any other way.”

He bends his neck and kisses you softly, releasing you just enough to throw your arms around his neck, through his silky golden hair, pulling him closer.

The dread that had dogged you for centuries is gone. There is no such thing as chance, and he is sure that you were supposed to leave him, whatever the reason, to save you from the same evil fate he suffered. After a millennium as primordial ooze, he can’t bring himself to care, only grateful to have you in his arms again.

~

Celebrimbor had been rather taken aback when Annatar had walked into his forge with you on his arm. You had been a close friend for many years, having visited his city many times, even reinforced the defences with the ancient magic you’d learned from your lost kin. He knew you were married but had never met your lord husband; no one could have guessed he was an emissary of the Valar.

Indeed you were surprised by his cover story too, but dismissed it as your husband wanting to make the best impression as you introduced him to the world.

“Do they really need to know?” He had asked you one night, holding you close as the rest of the world slept.

“What do you mean, love? Oh, that you’re mine? Yes, absolutely, they must. If I don’t stake my claim now, all of Eregion’s eligible maidens will be vying for your hand, and I cannot possibly entertain a rival for your affections.” Your tone is light, your words spoken in jest, but he sees in you the same dark possessive streak that runs so deeply within him, and his heart can’t help but reach out for yours, dark tendrils of his power wrapping around you.

“How could I look at another soul the way I look at you? You are the other half of me, the reason my heart still beats. No one compares to my wife, and I would reduce anyone who argued otherwise to dust.”

You laugh a little, burying your face in his side, but he needs you to know just how serious he is, cupping and lifting your chin to hold your gaze.

“My love, if the sun were too bright or the moon offensive to your eyes or the stars were to outshine your radiance, I would tear it all down for you. Everything I do is for the love of you.” He means it, in his own way, and you know it, a thrill shooting through you, ending in butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

It amazes you that even after the eons you’ve loved each other, you still feel the same flutters of excitement you did when you first set eyes on him in that golden glade, millenia ago.

The trials you have endured only sweeten the moments of contentment, making you all the more grateful to hold each other.

~

He has a job to do, a forge to supervise, and rings to create. But with you in his arms and a gentle breeze cooling you both in the burgeoning warmth of spring, he could be persuaded to stay abed a little longer.

“Stay with me today.” You murmur into his chest, unwilling to let him go.

It’s as if you could hear his thoughts as he could hear yours.

He chuckles fondly, stroking your hair, considering the vaguest possibility of letting Celebrimbor work unattended for today. Surely one day couldn’t hurt?

“I have to oversee the rings, my love, their progress is precious in every sense of the word,” he says as he traces your arm, rubbing slow circles into your skin with his thumb.

You grumble with indignation, nestling closer to his side as if to keep him there with the sheer magnetism of your presence. He squeezes your arm softly before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“One day with my husband. Is that too much to ask?” Your tone is still a little petulant, but he can’t help but smile fondly at your yearning for him; after all, it is returned a hundredfold.

“Your husband is an emissary of the Valar, he has… important duties, what are you doing?”

You give him a mischievous smile, running your foot up and down his leg, hand reaching between his thighs.

“I am simply showing my husband what he is missing when he attends to these important duties, more important than keeping his wife satisfied, apparently.” Your smile grows wider as his eyes grow dark, pupils blowing wide as your hand finds its prize, his cock already half hard simply from lying next to you all morning, breathing you in.

“Are you implying I do not keep you satisfied, my lady? Oh, that simply will not do…” he growls, rolling you over and caging you beneath his iron frame.

You look up at him through your lashes, your breath hitching as arousal pools in your core and drips down your thighs.

The dark glint in his eye only intensifies as he catches the scent of you, needy for his touch, as he dips his fingers between your thighs, delicately tracing your entrance as you shiver beneath him.

His hard length juts against your hip as he greedily swallows your moans, not sated until he has wrung every note of pleasure from you. His tongue doesn’t need to fight for dominance in your mouth; he already has it, and you let him take whatever he needs from you.

His thrusts are lazy, languid, now that his plans for the day no longer involve leaving your bed, meaning to take his sweet time with you.

His index and middle fingers circle your entrance, dipping in and out, thrusting deeper each time until he is knuckle-deep inside you. He hooks his fingers in a come hither motion, watching your face soften through hooded eyes as he strokes the sweetest spot inside you. Your body shakes under his ministrations as you clench around his fingers, seemingly unwilling to let him part from you in any way, shape, or form.

He kisses the tip of your nose before drawing back to take you in, spread out underneath him, hair across the pillow, lips parted and panting, eyes glassy with pleasure. He’d never tire of this sight.

When he first saw you, Sauron never thought he would end up here, with you so willingly his. His to hold close and torment with his loving words, torture with his lingering touch, to soothe with the lies that drip so easily from his tongue.

He covets you even when he has you pressed to him skin to skin, craves you even when he can’t breathe for his tongue inside you, wants to wrap himself around you when he can feel your soul entwined with his.

You are his, and today of all days, it is overwhelming him completely.

“So good for me, opening under my touch, I know what you need, darling, I have you, just let go.” He murmurs in your ear, aching for your release as much as his own; after all, they are the same thing.

He lowers himself to press his body against yours, needing to feel every inch of you against him, cunt clenching around his fingers as you give him your pleasure. You whine and pant against his neck as he refuses to give you a moment’s respite, stroking your inner walls, grinding his palm against your clit.

You shake through your orgasm, riding out your high on his fingers which relentlessly wring out every drop of pleasure from your body, until you’re breathless, pleasantly warm and tingly all over, and totally exhausted.

“So beautiful, my darling wife, wrung out and ruined for me. Is there a single thought in that pretty mind?” He can’t help but gaze at you fondly, slicked with sweat and writhing under his fingers.

Until this moment, he has had no thought of his own pleasure. Now he feels his cock ache to be inside you, and he rolls his hips against yours, sliding his cock between your thighs and rutting against your soft skin, his precum and your wetness soaking your thighs, easing his way. With every roll of his hips his cock grinds against your clit, rubbing against your lips, making you want him inside you where he belongs.

He throws his head back with a gasp, his golden hair falling over his shoulder, as the morning sun illuminates him from behind. You wonder, how could this ethereal being be yours? Giving into his carnal desires and binding himself to a mortal form for the love of you. It is too much to ponder, and you pull him down to your lips, desperate to taste him once more.

As you pull him down, he adjusts himself, teasing you with the promise of filling you up. He chuckles in your ear when you moan at the feeling of him thrusting deep inside you, his bare skin sliding against yours, as he makes himself at home between your thighs.

He slides his hand between you, his index and middle fingers parted to frame your clit as he rubs your cunt, occasionally tracing the swollen nub that begs for his attention. The whimpers that escape your lips only urge him to tease you further, forcing you to arch into his touch, chasing any semblance of release.

Your hips ache as you thrust to meet his hand, fighting the rolling of his hips as he takes what he wants from you. His cock driving into your wet heat, his hand between you teasing and caressing your clit, his forehead against yours as he holds himself over you with his free hand.

Before long, he feels his orgasm approach, too soon, but perhaps not for you, as you beg him to let you come, and how could he deny you when you plead so sweetly?

Not that he could ever deny any request made from your lips.

He pulls you close, torso to torso, and kisses you hard, a hungry clash of lips and tongues and teeth that leaves you both breathless, greedily swallowing your moans as if they were all he needed to survive.

It feels like a revelation every time, and this occasion is no different. When you both finally come down from the pleasurable peak he'd dragged you to, you still feel like you're floating, clinging to him just to stay grounded.

As you both lie there in your cozy bed, panting and nestling close, his large frame fitting around you so completely, he smoothes back flyaway tendrils of your hair from your face and regards you with a strange look, something akin to fondness but more hungry, more desperate, more obsessive.

As your breathing slows and you return to the mortal plain, you look up at him and smile.

“So. About today. I could show you the city? You haven’t seen beyond the forge, my love, and while it is no Gondolin, it has its charms, we’ve built something beautiful here. I want you to see it.” Your eyes sparkle at the idea of showing Sauron around your city, and he cannot help but give in, even as he wants to stay here with you as long as possible.

“Then I must let our friend know he shall have to do the work of the Valar himself today.” He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours.

~

Hand in hand with your husband, you cannot help but feel at peace as you stroll through the streets of Eregion.

Musicians fill the air with song, lively market stalls line the streets, and children run and play amongst the revellers.

Your fellow Elves are still a little in awe of him, the crowds parting as you make your way through the city.

“Do you never tire of this?” You ask, a blush creeping up your neck, gesturing at the people nodding and bowing and staring as he walks past with you.

His derisive snort should tell you everything you need to know as he smirks, casting a glance at you, squeezing your hand to soothe your discomfort. You were so used to serving the people of Eregion, that this sudden change in treatment was unsettling. You appreciated thanks for your work, but anything beyond that was too much; this nigh-worship was almost unbearable.

Sauron, however, was flourishing.

“It is what we deserve, my love, to be revered. We are more than them, after all.” He has always enjoyed your attentions, your worship, but he cannot deny that this satisfies his need to rule in a way that your love alone cannot touch.

“You might be, love, but I am merely one of them. So it feels strange…” You trail off as you regard him closely, noticing just how at ease he seems to be.

“Let’s go back.” You fight the growing dread in the pit of your stomach, wishing that you had just stayed in bed with him instead.

“Are you quite alright, love?” He turns to you, searching your gaze, only now noticing your concern.

“Yes, fine, darling, I just,” you search for an excuse, any excuse, “I’m just tired. Perhaps a lie down will do the trick, if you would join me?”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face; he might as well have gone to the forge today, if you were going to cut short your trip into the city.

“I might see how Lord Celebrimbor is coming along with the rings, and let you rest.” He gives you a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your stomach flips.

“Of course, love, I’ll see you later then.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing into the crowd, a strange sense of trepidation filling you as he leaves.

You know him well enough, unfortunately, that you can immediately sense when he is up to something; an itching in the back of your mind and a dull ache in your heart. Nefarious or not, you have to know what it is.

~

You peer through the door, ajar enough to see your husband in his leather apron sitting at Celebrimbor’s work bench, the forge otherwise empty. He is hard at work, his back to the door, and you can't tell what is consuming all of his attention. Most of his attention.

"Love, why do you linger at the door?" He asks, raising his head and smirking, before turning and leaning with an arm over the back of the chair, beckoning you to him.

You smile hesitantly, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your dress as you open the door and cross the room.

He pats his thigh, taking your hand and guiding you to sit in his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck. Leaning forward to nuzzle his nose in your neck, he soaks you up, breathing in your scent and relishing the feeling of you so close. Your anxiety melts, the knots in your stomach untying themselves.

"Are you feeling better, love?" He murmurs, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes, much." It is not a lie; simply being with him in his natural habitat soothes your nerves.

He hums in acknowledgement, nose still at your throat, the deep vibration rippling through you.

"I hate to worry about you, darling," he remarks as he brushes his fingers through your hair.

"You'll never have to." You reply softly, drawing back to meet his gaze, so intense, so focused on taking you in.

He smiles wide, his eyes creasing just how you love, a genuine expression that has become more and more rare as his stay in Eregion has gone on. It warms your heart and makes you reach for him once more, planting your lips on his, Sauron making an undignified "hmph" in surprised response.

He could stay there forever in your arms, kissing you softly and languidly, letting himself melt into you. But the reason for his visit to the forge today sits on the bench behind you both, and he cannot forget it.

"I have a gift for you." He pulls away to reach for something on the bench behind you.

“A gift, my love? You are gift enough, I need nothing from you.” You laugh, heat flushing your cheeks as your husband takes your hand.

“How can I call myself the Lord of Gifts if I cannot even gift my wife a small trinket for her devotion?” He teases you fondly, his broad smile reaching his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners in the way that makes you want to kiss every crease and wrinkle from his face just to make them multiply a hundredfold.

“Close your eyes, love,” he tells you, still holding your hand with his other hand behind his back.

You do so with a dramatic sigh, grinning and rolling your eyes.

You feel him slip something cool and smooth onto your finger, and you feel a rush of his power through you that you have not felt in such a long time. You can feel it course through your veins, the towering inferno that is your husband’s will, his might and determination in one tiny object.

“Open.” He commands you, his excitement unmistakable.

A slim golden band graces your finger, radiating your husband’s power. There is something about it, something that makes you never want to take it off.

“Do you like it? Say something,” he laughs nervously, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It is… quite something, my love. Beautiful.” You can’t stop staring at it, the plain golden ring catching the light and throwing off an inner radiance that captivates you.

His face lights up, a wide smile brightening his handsome features as he takes your hand in his once more.

“I wanted to forge us something worthy of our bond. Something to strengthen us, to fortify what we have. To bind us together.” He looks into your eyes hopefully, yearning for the eternal life together that you’ve been denied thus far.

“It is… precious, my love. And if it works, you shall never be rid of me.” You clasp his hand in yours, resting your forehead on his, breathing him in.

“I shall forge one of my own, but yours was more pressing. They shall be a pair when I am done.”

You cannot help but smile fondly at him; thinking of you before himself.

“Thank you, love, I shall never take it off.”

You raise your hand to admire his handiwork, always in such awe of his talents, and notice him eyeing you hungrily.

"Are you quite alright, darling?" You tease him, as he leans over you, a large hand tracing your neck, pushing your hair back over your shoulder.

“I need you,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as he presses you against Celebrimbor’s workbench.

“Not here, love, let’s go home,” you try to push him off, laughing but the thought of being discovered like this in the forge, where anyone could find you, sends a shiver down your spine and your stomach unexpectedly flutters.

“No. Right here.” He runs his hands over your curves, ravenous for what only you can provide him. “Right now. I have to have you.”

He rucks up your skirts, lifting you by your hips onto the bench behind you, baring you to his lustful gaze, and to anyone else who could walk in.

“Is the door locked at least?” You ask him, your stomach still tying itself in knots.

“Of course, love, do you think I want anyone bearing witness to the mere sight of you like this? You are mine, and mine alone.” He growls, deep in his chest, as he grips your thighs, digging into the soft flesh with his fingernails, leaving red crescent marks to mark you as his.

He can’t resist the sight of your wet cunt, has to taste you, flexing his tongue to delve into your entrance as he plays with your swollen clit. He pulls you closer, throwing your legs over his shoulders, gripping your ass to keep your cunt against his face.

You can’t help but roll your hips, begging him for more, riding his face, taking full advantage of the fact that with his regained strength, Sauron doesn’t actually need to breathe.

His iron grip keeps you pinned against him as you arch your back and moan breathily for anyone who might be passing to hear.

He senses your orgasm approaching, and thrusts two long deft fingers inside your cunt, stroking your walls as he laps at your clit. Your body quakes as you give yourself to him, your peak crashing over you with no respite, Sauron drawing every ounce of pleasure he can from your aching cunt with a delicious gleam in his eye.

Finally he gives you some kind of reprieve, drawing back to admire his handiwork.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smirking as he pulls himself up to meet your lips. You can taste yourself on him as he kisses you hard, teeth dragging on your bottom lip, hands kneading greedily at your thighs.

"Are you ready for me, love? Always ready for me, aren't you, always so good..." he gasps in your ear as he slams his cock inside you in one solid thrust, rolling his hips and relishing in the feeling of you, tight and hot around him.

He thinks he hears footsteps on the stairs. He slows his pace just a fraction to listen, not that you seem to notice.

The door swings open a little, but whoever it is does not immediately enter, startled by the noises coming from inside the forge.

Thankfully your back is to the door, and one glare from Sauron sends the smith at the door running back down the stairs, leaving the door ajar. He rolls his eyes and smirks against your lips, crashing his lips into yours with renewed vigour, bucking his hips and slamming his cock deep inside you.

The thought of the world having borne witness to the love you share, it sends him wild and obliterates any sane thought from his mind, the only notion in his head to ravage you senseless.

"So good for me, such a good girl," he murmurs as he takes you in your exhausted glory, your limbs shaking and your cunt quivering.

He leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, mouthing at your tender flesh before nipping with his sharp teeth, a loud moan escaping your throat.

Working his way up to your neck, he lavishes your bare skin with his tongue, sucking hard on the sensitive skin of your throat, making sure to leave a bruise no one will miss.

You whimper as he slips his cock from inside you, marvelling at the state of you, dripping with his cum.

"Always so appreciative, aren't you darling? Always so giving, so grateful to receive whatever I give you. And you've given me everything-"

He picks you up, your arms clinging to his neck as you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips.

"-but you can give me so much more."

He slams his cock inside you again, letting gravity do its work as you're stretched to your limit, moaning as he angles his hips just right so you see stars on every thrust.

"Oh, darling, is that too much?" He mocks you fondly before swallowing your whines, stealing the breath from your lungs in his need, no, greed for you.

With you balanced in his large hands, his muscles flexing with every thrust, he bounces you on his cock like you weigh nothing, as if you were merely a plaything for him to use and spoil and defile. His, and his alone.

He can't get enough of you, of the sight of you ruined and writhing at his touch, desperate for more even as he wrings another orgasm from your overstimulated cunt.

His own peak crashes into him like a wave on the shore, pulsing inside you as your walls clench around him.

"I love you, I love you, love you, love you..." he gasps over and over into your neck, shuddering against you as he leans you back against Celebrimbor’s work bench.

You can do nothing but kiss him, words beyond you, your tongue capable of nothing but kissing your husband.

"So good for me, beautiful girl, so good..." he murmurs softly into your neck as his cock twitches inside you, his seed dripping down your inner thighs.

When your legs stop shaking, he lets you stand, still leaning on him. He combs through your hair with his fingers, tucking it behind your ears. Then he glances down at the mess he's left between your legs and smirks.

"Leave it."

You raise an eyebrow at him, already reaching to clean yourself up before you leave the forge.

"I'll be home soon. I'll do it myself."

You finally realise what he's saying and squirm at the idea of trying to walk home in the state you're in. Defiled in all the ways that count. But the glint in his eye warns you not to argue.

True to his word, he arrives home not long after you, so you don't wait too long for his tongue to clean up the mess he made.

~

There are warning signs. You missed most, if not all of them. Or wilfully ignored them.

But when the siege horns blare, in your heart of hearts, you know it is Sauron’s doing.

The first place you think to find him is the forge, but instead you find Celebrimbor hunched over his bench, painstakingly at work.

"My lord? Do you not hear the horns? We need to leave!" You try to take his arm to hoist him to his feet, but he shudders and throws you off.

He catches you off balance and you stumble, throwing an arm out to steady yourself.

To your surprise, a large warm hand takes yours and keeps you upright.

"I told you not to come here, love." Sauron remarks, his tone eerily neutral, as if you haven't just stumbled into a nightmare.

"I was... I was looking for you." You mutter, still watching Celebrimbor, concerned for his state of mind as he rambles about mice and candles.

"I told you to stay at home where you'd be safe. Was that simple instruction so beyond you?"

Your head snaps toward him as the sharp knife of his words pierces you between the ribs.

A flurry of questions and indignant remarks fills your head but you merely stare at him, mouth agape, as he disregards you, stepping to the bench to inspect his precious rings.

"How much longer?" His impatience has always been dangerous, but it is in this moment you realise just how so.

"Soon... just the final touches, they are nearly complete." Celebrimbor flinches as Sauron places the ring back on the bench and takes his shoulder in hand.

"Do you hear that? I kept the storm at bay but you chose to peel back the curtain. Your city is falling, but the sooner you deliver the rings, the more of your city you save. Do not fail them."

He takes your hand and leads you out of sight, pushing you up against a wall. His large hand wraps around your neck with such ease, it startles you, and you can do nothing but whimper against him.

"I told you not to come here." He whispers in your ear, hot breath tickling your neck.

"I'm sorry-" you gasp as his thumb constricts a little around your throat, "Needed to know you were safe."

He loosens his grip and smiles fondly at you, though not quite letting it reach his eyes, as your hearts pound in unison.

"Oh darling. Aren't you just perfect?" Then he kisses you hard, before turning you around, pressing your face against the cold hard stone.

Your stomach drops as you realise what he's planning. Surely not, not as the city crumbles around you and the Lord of Eregion sits mere feet away?

"Love, no, not now-"

He enters you with a practised touch, knowing exactly how he has to please you to ease his way in. Your body betrays you as he fucks you without mercy, taking his pleasure from your needy moans and wanton gasps as you succumb to the feeling of him drilling into you from behind.

This is new, as usually he delights in studying your face for every microexpression, taking you in as he ravages you. Now it is solely about what he can take from you, the only thought in his head to come as quickly as inhumanly possible.

It leaves you breathless and panting, and when he peaks, you find yourself grinding into him to try and find some kind of release too.

He chuckles in your ear, thrusting his hand between your thighs.

"What's that, love? Weren't you saying no? Do you want me to let you come? Oh you do? You're lucky that your pleasure is mine, or I might not be so giving..."

His words fade to nothing as your ears ring with siege horns and explosions and the mind-bending sensation of orgasming around Sauron’s cock, even as you know what his plans have wrought.

~

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you murmur over and over, holding the Lord of Eregion in your lap, trying to heal his wounds well enough that he can finish his work.

The wounds inflicted by the man you call husband in a moment of cruel impatience.

“Amarië, I need him to work, the rings-”

“-will be finished when he can stand. A moment’s peace, for pity’s sake.” You interrupt your husband, turning to look at him to find no pity in his eyes, only jealous rage.

“Let me work, so he can work. This is your doing after all, you should know it will take time.”

Your tone wounds him, the acid in your words corroding his black heart, but he cannot let himself pause in the pursuit of his goal, not when the rings for Men are within such tantalisingly close reach.

The melody you sing over Celebrimbor to knit his flesh eventually soothes his pain and stems the bleeding enough that soon he is sat at his workbench, still wincing, but for your sake, presses on with finishing the rings.

“Watch him, I’ll be back shortly.” Never has Sauron spoken so abruptly with you, and after everything you’ve witnessed today, you’re loath to let him leave with no rebuke.

“After everything He did to you, you would inflict the same torture on someone who has only shown you kindness?”

He glares down at you, only the tiniest furrow of his brow giving anything away about his current train of thought.

"It is… necessary. If he had done what I’d asked, I wouldn’t have been forced to-"

"Absolutely not. Do not do this. Do not blame him for what you have done. That is exactly what Morgoth did to you, what I nursed you through, so don’t try that with me." You’ve never been stern with him before so you’re not sure how he will take it, and frankly neither is he.

“This is not you!”

“But it is me.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “You just haven’t been paying attention.”

Your stomach drops as he smirks, stalking down the stairs. He looks back up at you a moment.

“Do not let him leave.” His tone cuts you like a knife, and when the door swings closed, you crumble to the floor, head in your arms.

~

"How long have you known?" Galadriel can barely look at you as your tears blind you.

It takes you a long time to answer.

"Too long. I thought he had changed! At first I thought him dead, then he came back so different, I wanted-"

"You wanted your husband." She looks you in the eye, and once again, you feel a wave of nausea overwhelm you.

“It is a twisted, evil fate, that I would take back in a heartbeat, but there is no earthly force that can break us apart. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Your voice breaks and Galadriel cannot help but embrace you; she knows how heavy the bond between couples is, and knows that to try to undo it is a fool’s errand.

“I just want to come home.” You sob into her shoulder, heart breaking for her that she must be the one to comfort you, after all your husband has done to hurt her and her family, and what he has done to your city.

"Are you with me?" She asks, hands on your shoulders as you pull away.

You don't even have to think. Your broken heart speaks for you.

"Whatever it takes."

~

You find him on a cliff's edge, surrounded by orcs that bow and simper as you pass.

"I knew you'd come." He greets you, though he doesn't turn from looking down over the cliff, as if his eye is trained on something no mortal being could see.

"Predictable as always." You quip, but your anger bleeds through and the edge in your voice finally makes him face you.

"You're upset-"

"Oh, really?" You interrupt him with a snort.

"I tried to save Eregion, but Adar-"

"Oh no, don't do that, we both know that was your plan all along. You have always played the long game, don't doubt your abilities now, dear husband."

He smirks, stepping closer, taking your hands in his.

“Tell me the truth, please, just for once.” Your anger and your grief battle for dominance, and even now he feels a tiny pang of guilt.

“You have always known my purpose, my love-”

You interrupt him with your fists, so angry with him now that words fail you. He holds your wrists calmly, impassively, speaking over your outburst as if it had not happened, as if you were merely taking tea on your balcony.

“You have always known that Middle Earth is sick, that it needs healing, and who better than I to do so? I alone have the power and the will to remake this land, and you, my Queen, you will help me fix this broken world.” He is so sincere, smiling down at you as if it is already decided.

You try to pull away, shaking your head and fighting his every movement to keep you in his arms.

“I will not. I cannot, Mairon, I won’t.” You catch yourself and gasp. “Even now, even now I call you by the name you do not deserve.”

The tic in his jaw is back, and he inclines his head slightly, daring you to continue, warning you not to.

“Do you want to hear me say it? The name my kin gave you eons ago? The name you swore was dead and buried, along with your designs to rule the world?”

“You make it sound so inelegant, ‘rule the world’, is it my fault that the peoples of Middle Earth need uniting under a strong leader, one who will bring them the order and balance they so desire?” He is still using that calm, condescending tone that drives you mad, that once soothed you but now feels like fingernails under your skin.

“Is it balance if it is by force? You cannot trick them into acceptance, Mairon.” You know that to reason with him is folly, but you have to try, against all odds, to make him see reason in his madness.

“You want to be worshipped as a god.” You whisper, unable to believe this is the man you married, that you loved. Love. Love, still, as you rail against the feeling, hopeless to break it.

“And you, my goddess. It is as it should be, the right way of things, the people need order, and we can give it to them. You and I.” He traces your face softly, making you shiver. “Only us.”

You fight to break free of his embrace, hands on his chest, but you’re damned if he will let you go, his grip like the iron crown he wishes to place on your head.

"There is no 'us’. Not anymore. There can be no "us", for as long as you are unrepentant, I cannot bear to look upon you." The words taste acrid in your mouth, betraying every feeling still plaguing you deep in your soul.

His face twists, biting back every poisonous word he wishes to fling at you.

"You want to heal Middle Earth? How can one so broken know anything of healing?"

Despite your venom, and the wrenching in your souls, he tenderly holds your chin, upturning your face to him; even now you know exactly who he is, his radiance blinds you. Every heartbeat, every slow exhale, it all seems to stop, as you study his face for what you hope is the last time.

“What makes it worse, what really hurts,” your voice is unsteady, betraying the maelstrom in your heart, “is that in another life, another time, we could have been really happy.” The dam breaks and you cannot help but let a hot tear fall, willing the rest to remain unshed until you are alone.

“Weren’t we?” He seems genuinely confused, crushed even, voice thick with all the things he wants to say, all the things he knows would break you.

The hard expression you’ve worked so hard to maintain cracks; yes, you were, you were so blissfully happy, in those golden days where it was just the two of you, no war, no suffering, just two lovers meeting.

“Do not make me say it,” you choke out, tears now falling freely; gods, you had been so happy, and you wish with all your might to be taken back to those days in your lover’s arms, all tender kisses and warm embraces.

Even in your absolute sorrow, he cannot help but claim you one last time, pressing his lips to yours like you are his last meal on this mortal plain. Unwilling in spirit, but your body melts into him, desperate to forget for just a second before you turn your back on him forever. You can feel the ebb and flow of your souls crackling and churning around you, becoming palpable in the very air you breathe.

You break away first, hesitant to allow this moment to end. But it must.

“Do not go where I cannot follow.” He murmurs into the hollow of your throat, as he grips your hair and pulls your head back. With a heavy sigh you press your lips to his forehead, and back away, his fingers trailing yours as you part.

“You can follow, any time you wish.” Your voice breaks, as does your heart, clean in two, as you turn your back and leave him on that accursed precipice.

The golden ring on your finger seems almost to pulsate with heat; indeed you had quite forgotten it was there. You raise your hand to inspect it, tiny engraved letters filling the band that you had never seen before.

You could feel Sauron’s power in the ring, its binding magic pulling your heart back to the comfort of his embrace.

“Read it.” His voice behind you is hard but pleading, wrenching your heart.

The script on the ring burns red like coals on the fire as you hold it up, trying to make out what he engraved there.

Two Rings to bind what Evil tried to rend,

Two Rings for a King and Queen, their bond none can transcend,

Two Rings to rule them all, a power with no end

A tiny part of you is touched that he poured so much of himself into a ring meant to soften Morgoth’s curse upon the pair of you. The rest of you is incensed that he would use your love to satisfy his craving for power.

“You simply cannot resist, can you?” Your voice shakes with anger as you turn back to face him, his face falling as he realises that perhaps you would not be so easily won.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shakes his head as if he hasn’t an inkling what might have upset you.

“You know very well. A ring to bind me to you? Very well, you told me what it was when you gave it to me. But a ring to bring you the power you crave? To bind all the other rings of power to you, to dominate the free peoples of Middle Earth with a trinket? I cannot be a part of it!”

You stop for a moment, pausing in the realisation that your husband has not yet, to your knowledge, forged his own ring. Perhaps there is hope.

“I cannot be a part of it. But I will take it with me.” You say, holding up your hand. “For safekeeping.”

He does not argue. Instead he smirks and tells you, “I’d have it no other way.”

Perhaps you should be concerned, but surely it would do more harm in his hands than yours.

“You don’t want this.” For the first time in millennia, his voice shakes as he calls after you.

You turn on your heel and search his face for any sign at all that he might still come with you.

“You don’t know my heart.” It tastes a lie as it leaves your lips, but it’s the only retort you have.

With a soft smile, knowing and terrible, he replies, “Darling, I am your heart.”

The space where your heart used to be twists and shatters, leaving you breathless.

“Then you know how much this hurts. Please, don’t make it worse.” With that, you take your leave, refusing to turn around without him at your back, abandoning him to his chosen fate.

“Amarië,” you hear him softly behind you, as you refuse to look back.

“Amarië, do not foresake me!” It is an interesting choice of words, considering Morgoth’s curse that dooms you both to the other’s absence, and the irony is not lost on you.

“Do not let Him take you from me again!”

You stop in your tracks, turning on your heel.

“This is not His doing, my love.” You hold fast as he stalks towards you, trembling slightly as you take in your husband in all his fury.

He towers above you, taking your face in his hands.

“It is yours.” You whisper, your strength waning as he lowers himself to claim you in a crushing kiss, hands wrapping tightly around your neck and waist.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but kiss him back with abandon, feel his hands digging into your sides, the pain in your heart-

“Give up this madness. Come with me. Please, you said once you’d do anything for the love of me. So come with me.” You plead with him, grasping his hands tightly as if it were possible to change his mind simply by imbuing his flesh with your will.

After what feels like the longest pause of your life, Sauron gazing into your eyes with an inscrutable expression, he rests his forehead to yours.

“I must heal Middle Earth. And I will do it with or without you.” His voice breaks, like your heart.

You pull away and nod, refusing to look at him.

“Then know this is not your master’s doing, it is entirely your own.”

You turn and start walking, in desperate hope your people will forgive you, will take you in now you have nowhere else to turn.

He screams your name until he is hoarse, but he does not follow. He can always find you; time and space are no obstacles to the likes of your bond.

But that does not fill the hole in his arms where the world used to be, the space meant for you.

[starsweepers]

you know what. if this gets me run off of tumblr so be it.

i'm done with this. it's fucking stupid. all of it. coming on and reading people's fucking "DNI" lists. and i say this as someone who loves people who have some DNI lists. this is not against specific people and will never be. but i am fucking. so sick. of coming on and having no problem with people but i have friends who suddenly start telling me "don't interact with X"

people on both sides. people i have never had an issue with, who have never been problematic or mean but maybe at some point in their lives did something terrible to someone else.

you know what? i've been trash too. i know i've probably said and did things against good friends. but i talked to them and hashed it out or we blocked each other and moved on with their lives.

i am. so sick of being caught in between people who are fucking fighting. i should not be logging on from christmas and feeling torn in between people. i've basically soft blocked people because i am too old, i don't want to deal with this. but now i feel fucking guilty for not defending friends but also not... sticking up for friends.

i am so sick of this. i have multiple people i have blocked and hate seeing on my dash that good friends love and i just fucking ignore them but then i have friends who have dnis and i gotta fucking respect them or i'm a terrible person.

in real life people just fucking don't get along while some do. it just happens. i'm 30+ i've learned to accept this. i am so tired of being made to pick between people so i end up just blocking everyone i don't want this. it's tumblr rp. stop. i'm so tired, i'm so sick of this. i know dnis are to protect people but making your followers follow that rule? it's just clique behavior.

"the tumblr rp is so welcoming"

no it's fucking not. it doesn't matter the fandom. you pick your friends and you stick by them which GREAT.

but then people like me who are in the middle and just want to write are sitting back and watching a bunch of people i like hate each other. i'm so tired of it. i'm so so so so tired of it. i just wanna write stupid little characters.

if someone has physically caused you problems. block them and move on. stop making your friends choose between you. it's so fucking painful and we feel like we can't win. we win if we do and we're damned if we don't. i'm so tired i want everyone to have fun it's fucking christmas, this shouldn't have been on my mind at all.

run me off of tumblr. i don't care. i'm so sick of this. i came here to write not for all this fucking stupid drama that middle school people do. i hate. feeling like i have to pick friends to the point i've picked no one. now i'm going to lose rp partners and companions because someone is always wrong. i get it, i know they are. i'm just. tired. it's not worth it. this is fucking online. i have real life friends and a real life. i love amber because i fucking know her but in the end most of y'all are just a person i've met online and if you're going to hate me for this then so be it.

i'm tired i want to write, i want to be friends, but i am forced to pick sides because of dnis and it just makes me fucking upset all the fucking time.

you're allowed to want to feel safe on your blog i get it. but you're making other people feel fucking guilty and upset if we get along with someone you don't like.

( disclaimer: like actual groomers and such, fuck them but that is not 80% of what i experience so i'm fucking tired )

[xoxoavenger]

Let It Snow

pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Sam aren't very close, but having to share a cold room could change that.

word count: 3176

warnings: canon typical violence

I'm so sorry this is so late I am trying to get the last 12 days fic out today!!

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Y/N isn't sure how she ended up with the Winchester brothers. She was a good hunter - a great hunter - but they had saved her from a hairy situation with a Rougarou. She felt stupid as soon as it happened, but it did happen and she couldn't go back in time and stop herself from stepping into the trap. Of course, the Winchester brothers had come to save the day.

Dean she didn't mind as much. She wasn't particularly fond of his 'save the damsel in distress' attitude, but once she got closer to them and realized it was clearly his coping mechanism for losing his mother so young, for feeling like he had no control, she could handle him a lot better.

Better than his little brother, Sam, who she wanted to punch at least once a day.

She lived in the bunker with the brothers, since it wasn't like she had a home to go back to and she had been with them when they got the keys. Dean had insisted there was plenty of space, but apparently Sam didn't like this plan. He had rolled his eyes, asked Dean to talk in a different room, but she had still heard the yells from down the hall where she was trying to block it out. She chose that room, the one at the very end of the hall as her own, and Sam had chosen the room Dean vacated after their fight as his. Complete opposite sides of the hallway, Y/N tries her hardest not to run into Sam. He clearly didn't want her here, so she doesn't eat dinner with him, she doesn't watch movies, research in the library, anything. She either takes one of the old cars and spends a couple days God knows where (giving Dean a heart attack every time by the way he blows up her phone) or she spends her time with the mountain of books in her room, taken and returned to the library when Sam's out on hunts.

Which is another problem that makes Dean want to rip out all his hair - the three of them can no longer even go on hunts together. It's always Dean and Sam or Dean and Y/N. And Dean loves to hunt, alright? It's in his blood. But between Sam and Y/N each finding cases, he's exhausted. He can't say he's surprised when he gets sick.

"Dean, I can't just let these people die." Sam says bitchily, and Dean wants to slap his brother. He would, if he wasn't shaking under the mountain of blankets he's piled on his bed.

"I told you to go with Y/N." Dean says. He wants to kill his brother for dragging out his thing with Y/N. She's a sweet girl, and she deserves better than Sam's emotionally inept abuse that he doesn't even realize he's giving.

"She hates me." Sam says with a sad face that rivals a puppy.

"Sam, I'm going to throw up on you right now if you tell another lie." Dean says, and he truly means it.

"Dean!" Sam screeches, moving out of range. "I'm being serious! She avoids me at all costs! She'll have meals with you and watch movies with you, but the second I walk into the room she suddenly has to leave? You tell me what that means."

"I am way too sick for this." Dean groans, because usually he's not the one who has to explain things to his brother like a toddler. "Have you ever thought that maybe she does that because the first day we were here you threw a tantrum about her staying with us?" He asks, head flaring in pain. He closes his eyes and turns, because he doesn't want to ever listen to his brother's voice again.

"But," Sam starts to say, and Dean actually has to tamp down the urge to scream as he pulls the covers his face.

"Sam, leave my room right now and go on this hunt with Y/N. And please, for the love of God, do not text me or come back to this bunker until you have talked through your shit." Dean's voice is deadly, and Sam knows he has to comply. He leaves with an annoyed 'get better soon' and goes to his own room, because he doesn't want to go to Y/N's room.

She's reading in her room, some sort of fiction that she's been waiting for free time to read. Sam knocks on her door, and she figures it's Dean, because Sam has never been in her room.

"Come in!" She calls, putting her book down and watching the tall ass man walk through the door.

"Hey," Sam says, and Y/N chokes down the urge to tell him to fuck off and leave. He looks so out of place, eyes flitting around her room because he can't look at her for some reason.

"What do you need?" She asks flatly, leaning back.

"There's a case in Minnesota." He explains, voice low. He still isn't looking at her.

"Minnesota in January? You've got to be out of your mind. Ask Dean." She goes to grab her book again, and Sam sighs.

"He's sick." Sam finally meets her eyes when she looks up, and they're both silent for a moment. "Please, I can't do this alone." He is practically begging, and he knows how pathetic it sounds.

"Fine." She agrees, taking a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

~

They realized that maybe they should have left this case to more local hunters the second the heating in the old car they had decided to take went out. Sam had gotten out and tried to fix it while Y/N stayed bundled in the car, wondering why she decided this would be a good idea when she doesn't like Sam and he doesn't like her and it's minus degrees and snowing. Even the coats she stole from Dean aren't doing much, so when they get to the hotel after a car ride of silence Y/N is ready for sleep. They had chosen a fancier hotel than they normally stay at, because they needed a room with heat.

"Two rooms, please." Sam says, and Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes because of course he can't just share the room with her.

"We only have one available." The lady says, and Y/N suddenly thinks that maybe Sam wasn't being too overreactive. Just the thought of sharing a room with him makes her want to drive all the way back to Lebanon.

"What?" Y/N can't resist saying. "How do you only have a single room left?" She asks.

"There's a wedding here tomorrow, and half the town lost power. I'm surprised we have the one room left." She shrugs, and Y/N wants to yell at her. She knows there's no use, however, because this receptionist can't magically make another room available.

"That's fine. We'll take the room, thanks." Sam hands her the fake card Charlie programmed along with the matching fake ID, and then he's given the keys.

"You'll be on the fourth floor, room four twenty-eight." The receptionist tells them, and the two smile at her before walking to the elevator.

When they get to the room, immediately Y/N knows something is wrong. She pauses in the door, and Sam runs into her back and causes her to stumble.

"We need to go back down." She says. "This is wrong."

"Oh," Sam says as he looks over her shoulder. "But there are no more rooms left." He says it so simply, she wants to hit him.

"There's only one bed." She says, as if Sam can't see this himself. He squeezes past where she's still stuck in the doorway, and goes over to the thermostat.

"It's freezing." Sam changes the subject, because there's nothing they can do about their sleeping arrangements. They know it's too cold to go out and find a new hotel room, which may not even have room since the receptionist said that half the town didn't have power.

"Well, turn the heat up." She can't help but be bitchy, because the year she's spent on the other side of the bunker, avoiding him at all costs, has made her unable to even be in the same room as him.

"It's not working." He grunts, fiddling with it even while he understands the truth.

There's no heat in this room.

"We need to find another fucking hotel." Y/N mutters. She goes to grab her stuff, but Sam grabs her arm.

"The snow is coming down too hard. We don't even know where another hotel is, and we're going to freeze in that metal ice cube." He gently lets go over her arm, but she can feel the tingles from where his hand was.

"We're going to freeze here." She says, but she knows that even this cold room is better than the way the car felt.

"The water is probably warm." He tells her. She rolls her eyes.

"Great, so we can get wet and then freeze our asses off as soon as we're not under the water." She says, and he just blinks.

"If we run hot water, we can create steam and hopefully it'll give off some heat." He explains, and now she feels stupid.

"I'm gonna go downstairs to see if there's any extra blankets." She tells him.

And of course, there's only one.

"I'm so sorry." The lady says, like she genuinely cares that Y/N is going to have to share the bed with the man who hates her in a room that feels like it's below zero. "If anyone leaves, or as soon as someone checks out, I will call your room." She promises, but Y/N knows it's a lost cause. No one is leaving, at least not tonight. Y/N and Sam are stuck without power, and only one extra blanket.

When she gets back to the room, the shower is running, steam coming out from the open door. It isn't until she sees Sam's naked back that she realizes that they have to keep the door open to heat up the room.

She turns to the bed, feeling her cheeks heat.

"I'm back!" She calls, putting the extra blanket on the bed. It does feel slightly warmer with the steam, but she can't help but wonder how long it'll last.

"The water is nice and hot!" Sam calls out, and she can hear him getting out of the shower but not turning it off. She is grabbing her own stuff for the shower when Sam walks out, wearing only a towel around his waist. "I figured we should keep it going for a long as possible, since it's the only thing heating the room." He tells her, and she just nods as she looks at his eyes and his eyes only, ignoring everything else (like the tattoo on his toned chest, the water rolling down his abs where a trail of hair leads under the towel).

"Sounds good," She manages, then goes into the bathroom. It's then, as she turns toward the room, that she realizes they need the door open to let the heat out.

Sam is out of the eye line, so she quickly strips and gets in the shower. The glass is now fogged, so she can't see much of the room and he can't see in. Still, she showers quickly and gets out, not getting her hair wet so she doesn't have to deal with being in the cold room with wet hair. She towels off, then changes as quickly as she possibly can so that Sam can't see anything. But his back is turned the whole time, now with pants and a long sleeve on to sleep. She's glad she brought a hoodie (which may have been Dean's at one point) so she won't absolutely freeze.

"How long should we keep it running?" She asks, walking into the room and putting her old clothes back into her bag.

"I guess until it goes cold." Sam shrugs, and then it goes back to silence. She grabs her book, going to read in the bed before sleeping. When Sam, all six feet five fucking inches of burly man, gets in next to her, she wants to start crying. He takes up over half the bed, and she just knows how this is going to end.

It's going to be a long night.

~

"We woke up cuddling!" Y/N whispers into her phone while Sam talks to the victim's family. She had stayed in the car, deciding to research more since they hadn't been able to look at each other all morning, much less talk to each other.

"That doesn't surprise me." Dean tells her honestly, making her groan. "And not just because I already heard about this." Of course Sam told his brother about the cuddling incident.

"How am I supposed to go back tonight!" She cries, knowing she's being dramatic but also knowing there's nothing worse than Sam, who already hates her, not even being able to talk to her.

"I'm sure it was just cold. I mean, you slept fine, right?" Dean asks, and she can tell he's eating and talking with his mouth full.

"I slept like a fucking log, Dean. That's the problem! And your brother hates me, so I don't even know why he would cuddle me in the first place!" She tells Dean as she skims the book in her lap, not finding anything remotely related to their case.

"He doesn't hate you." Dean tells her, and she just shakes her head.

"I'll just have to take your word for it, since he avoids me like the plague." She mutters. She looks over and sees Sam walking out of the house, so she says her goodbyes and gets off the phone.

"I think we're dealing with some sort of spirit, not a demon. It seems to be haunting the barn, drawing people in." Sam informs her. They had known that the abandoned barn had been a part of the case, but they had thought it was a demon due to the nature of the killings.

"Like the spirit of George Hanover, the kid that was killed there during a hazing ritual in the eighties. We can go a library and see if the deaths match with the way he was killed, maybe interview people who knew him." Y/N suggests, and Sam nods.

The ride, of course, is quiet.

~

It's late at night and freezing cold when George finally shows his face in the barn. Y/N and Sam just needed whatever he was tied to, because they didn't want to burn down the entire barn. If it came to that, however, they were prepared.

What they were not prepared for was George to put up such a fight, and Y/N is thrown into a snowdrift headfirst. She doesn't move, but Sam doesn't have time to check on her. He has to dig through the dirt covered things in the corners of the barn while dodging attacks until he finally finds a jacket, which he hopes is George's. Once it's burned and the spirit is taken care of, Sam is instantly on his way to Y/N.

"Y/N!" He yells, digging through the snow that she was buried in. He finally gets her out, unconscious but breathing, face flush from the cold. He touches her face with his bare hand, and he knows she is way too cold.

He picks her up and carries her the short distance to the car, then puts it in gear and drives as fast as he can through the snow to get back to the hotel. He blasts the heat, but Y/N doesn't move the entire ride and her face doesn't return to its natural color.

"Come on," He says to no one, carrying her to the room and putting her on the bed. He takes off her shoes and jacket before putting her under the blankets, then grabbing a small towel and running it under warm water. He puts it on her forehead, then kneels at her side, unsure of what to do.

He waits five minutes, then takes the towel off and throws it to the ground. She still isn't awake, but her face seems less pale and her hand, which is in his, is less cold. He tells himself it's to keep her warm, make sure she's not cooling down, but he knows why he's holding her hand.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not knowing why he has to confess. He just feels the need, even if it won't help, even if she won't hear it. "I'm sorry I made you think that I hate you. I don't, I could never. In fact, I care about you more than I should. It's why I try not to talk to you, try not to get your attention. I don't want to get attached, in case something happened. I didn't think I could stand it if you didn't feel the same, or if you did feel the same but something happened. But now, something has happened, and I've wasted all this time ignoring you. I've wasted months of our lives because I was scared, and now I'm more terrified than I have ever been and it's all my fault. If we were able to talk to each other, if I had been able to at least be nice, maybe I could have prevented this." He's crying, and he can't believe he just poured his heart out to this unconscious woman. He feels so stupid, but just as he takes his hand away her's squeezes his fingers. His head whips to her face, where her eyes are finally open.

"Nothing could have prevented that." She tells him, and he can't help himself from hugging her tight. She hugs back, and when he leans away he has to ask.

"How much did you hear?" He's not sure what he wants the answer to be, not sure if he's prepared for it.

"All of it." She tells him honestly. "Well, everything after you saying that I hate you, but I think that was all of it. Which is wrong, ya know. I don't hate you." She smiles, scooting over. The room is a little chilly as Sam toes off his shoes and takes off his coat, sliding into bed next to her.

"That's good to know." He says, trying not to freak out. She puts her head on his chest, letting his arms come around her the same way they were when the two of them woke up that morning.

"I care for you a lot too. Even though I thought you hated me." She says, and he squeezes her.

"Yeah, let's not do that." He says, kissing her on the forehead. She nods, feeling warm in his arms even in the cold hotel room. The snow outside has started to turn into a storm, but neither of them could be bothered to care, too wrapped up in each other.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @lyarr24

[presleyslilbaby]

~A Little Gift~

(70’s!Elvis X OC!)

(TW: Potential misspellings-)

(This is just a short little story I wanted to write for Christmas. I really should be resting, but I can’t rest until my brain is empty, lol-)

“Gianna,” Elvis called for his Girlfriend, grabbing her attention, though scaring her a little. “Y-Yes…?” She softly stuttered out, subconsciously pushing her glasses up, a nervous habit she’d recently developed. Sighing, Elvis sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. “Angel, you’re hangin’ out alone.” He motioned around. “We got a whole Christmas party to tend to, Baby.” A guilty frown tugged at Gianna’s lips, wrapping her arms around herself instinctively. “I know…I just- You know I’m not good with people, El…” She mumbled. “A-And besides- I-I can’t really relate to any of the Guys…I’m not very fun to talk to…” “Oh, sure you are,” He patted her on the head, trying to make her feel better. “You’re heaps o’ fun to talk to. Why do ya’ think I asked you out, hm? ‘Cause you’re sweet, adorable, and you’re real silly. Don’t you let them thoughts get to ya’.”

Gianna hummed softly, leaning into Elvis’s plush body, turning more toward him to snuggle closer. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself…And besides, I don’t want to hear Joanne complaining about how I need to talk more…” Elvis frowned at that, pulling his aviators off before grabbing her jaw gently to make her look up at him. “Do not let your Sister dictate your life. If you ain’t ready to socialise jus’ yet, then you ain’t ready. I know how hard it is for you.” She smiled. “Thank you…I just feel guilty because you want to go mingle and stuff, and here I am…Keeping you here…” He shook his head, running his hand through her brown hair. “You ain’t keepin’ me here. I know I can go back out if I wanted. But I’d much rather prefer takin’ the time to make sure my best Girl’s doin’ all right.” Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against her nose. “Because I care ‘bout you, Honey. You’re my heart, my world. I’d do anythin’ to make you feel better.” At his heartfelt confession, Gianna’s lower lip began to tremble with emotion, tears starting to gather in her eyes. She sharply inhaled, fanning her face as she made a silly sound. “Don’t say things like that! You’ll make me cry!” She partially joked, blinking rapidly. Elvis let out a laugh, the sound echoing in her ears. “Well excuse me, li’l Lady! I was just’ tryin’ to tell you that I cared!” He grinned.

“Oh-“ Suddenly standing up, Elvis quickly excused himself from moment before returning with a small, wrapped gift. “For you, Angel.” He spoke with such softness, his voice in its own feeling like a warm blanket as it reached her ears. Taking the gift from his hands, Gianna began to carefully unwrap her present, having kept the habit of not ripping the paper like a barbarian from when she was a child to save for next Christmas. Opening the small velvety box, a quiet gasp escaped her lips, and tears sprang to her eyes yet again. It was a beautiful Golden band adorned with real diamonds on top, the size and shine of the ring reflecting the expenses of the gift. “Oh, Elvis…” She gasped. “This is so gorgeous…H-How much did you spend on this…???” As much as she loved the present, she couldn’t help but worry over the price.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout the price, Gigi. It’s just a li’l gift I got for my Baby.” “A little gift? Elvis, this is more than just a little gift…It’s- Fuck, it’s so amazing…” Gianna watched on as he took her hand in his, then after having taken the ring out of its box, he slowly and reverently slid it on her finger. “Not as amazing as the beautiful Girl wearin’ it.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing his lips to the back of it like a Gentleman. “…I love you so much…” She whispered as a tear slipped past her eye. He gently brushed it away with his thumb. “I love you too, Cookie.” He said.

“Merry Christmas, Gianna.”

Merry Christmas…”

[days-until-burnout]

hellow *looks at u with big ole eyes* i am in need of more scarishbeans pwease 🥺🥺🥺 the very fluffy type 🥹🥹 as always ur writings are wonderful and i hope u have a very good timezone 🎀

(can u guess who i am LOL 😔 hint: the only person that requests scarjoel💀)

*looks at you with even bigger eyes* scarjoel for u yes OH NO. I JSUT REREAD THE PRMPT YOU SAID FLUFFY NOOOOOOOOO I FUCKED UP. FORGIVE ME 😭 i had no ideas so i pulled a prompt generator and i got "Your character has big news but no one to tell it to." forgive me _____

📧 Day 114 (d) -

Characters - Scar/Joel Words - 638 Time - 30 mins Content - School setting

Joel jumps high in the air, clutching his phone tight as he fists the air. He cheers loudly by himself, beaming when gravity eases him down, even the wind brushes his cheek and ruffles his hair. Jealousy, he holds his phone to his chest, clutching his hand on top as he feels his heartbeat everywhere. 

His face breaks, hurting with a smile. 

When he looks back at his screen, re-reading the words over and over, his heart jumps every single time like the first time. Relief, a sense of achievement, suddenly fuller. 

Overcome with feelings, he falls to his knees, the joy shattering at the edges like waking up from a good dream. The curtains fall, the rug pulled from under him. His chest tightens, suffocating his heart where it once pounded with excitement. 

When he stares at the ground under him, thumbs across his screen, his reflection staring right back. His shadow falls over him, the world dimmer without the sun warming his skin. 

The tears follow shortly after.

This is pathetic, he knows. 

Oh, how he knows. 

“Oh, hello there!” 

Joel jumps, forcing himself to not turn around before rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. It stings and scratches, burning over the scorching tears. He breathes in and out, willing himself back to composure. 

When he finally turns around, he sits on the grass, facing the sun blocked by Scar. He finds curiosity in twinkling eyes, something nice and gentle in his expression. Scar limps over, huffing as he drops his cane, carefully lowering himself on the grass in front of him. 

“Hi, Scar,” Joel greets, gaze dropping to his phone. His reflection stares back, but harder to tell apart from the sunlight. 

“Aw, you look very sad. What is wrong, Joel? Something you want to share with your good ol’ pal Scar?”

Joel chuckles, a little bitterly. They are not friends, and never were. In another lifetime, if they made different decisions, maybe they would have been friends. Now, however, Joel can only look up to the guy everyone wants to befriend. Such a cool guy, so approachable. 

Still, his mouth gets ahead of his head, “It’s nothing.”

“Oh?” Scar tilts his head, eyebrows raised with even more curiosity now. “So there is something to share! Do tell, Joel, do tell.”

Instead of talking, Joel unlocks his phone, handing it over. 

It takes a couple seconds for Scar to read it, and somehow, someway, his expression fills with excitement, almost pride. Joel tells himself he is imagining it, because surely he is. 

But then Scar is looking at him, right at him, smiling so wide. Joel freezes when Scar pulls himself over, pulling him in for a crushing hug. And he is saying things, praise and whatnot, nice things that he cannot even tell apart. 

Just sound. Everything is sound. Just the sound of Scar’s voice spoken into his hair and neck, nice things that sound so warm and soft and gentle. 

His heart is ready to burst, already forgetting the heartbreak of having no one to share the news with. His eyes gloss, prickling with tears again. They rain down his face, hot and wet landing on Scar’s shoulder. He raises his hands, taking fistfuls of Scar’s back as he buries his face into his shoulder, trying to bite back the sobs.

Scar places a hand behind Joel’s head, running his fingers through his hairs, his loudness taming at the change of moods. He holds Joel secure in his arms, smiling into his hair, and when he speaks next, his voice is softer.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, chuckling when Joel curls himself further into his arms. “You have done amazingly, Joel. You should be proud,” he nuzzles his cheek, lightly brushing his jaw with his lips, “very, very proud.”

_____

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 it ended fluffy at least 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 also, i *think* i know who you might be, but i cannot be for certain. no biggie going off anon or stayin, you can if you want. it does not affect anything, i promise well, for now, that's scar day for now 😌 i wanted to do convex but didnt get aournd to it. maybe anothe rday

[click for a random day]

[rachymarie]

High-masking mfers could practically beg the healthcare department for help for months with tears in our eyes* and they will still say "soz but you're not suicidal so you don't need help but here's a weekly educational group for an illness you don't even have and u are not allowed to talk about anything but the specified illnesses which you don't experience making you feel more alienated and isolated than ever lolz"

[rubiesintherough]

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[ragnars-tooth]

One of my big compulsions is taking a fuck ton of screenshots Just In Case a piece of information is important in like 4 years and I can't remember it (sometimes the information is an instagram post that I might not remember later and of course needs to be recorded everywhere (I will Not be looking at that again)) so today is my transfer 16000 images off my phone admin day (woo)

Like yeah I never looked at any of them and they were completely irrelevant to my daily life, But what if I need them ✨️ later ✨️ (you'll see that the idea of Later is doing a lot of heavy lifting here) OR what if there's a vital piece of information in the mix somewhere that I'll lose forever if I delete them? So: onto the external hard drive they go

This is one of those cases where. Yeah. Ideally I wouldn't take 16000 screenshots in half a year. And YEAH ideally I'd just delete them and not transfer them somewhere else to never look at again. BUT at least I get a clean slate and I can maybe not mindlessly save everything for 2 seconds. It's like. Small wins? Progress. Yknow.

[randomingoftherandomness]

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[icewindandboringhorror]

Bad news, got back from the vet and my beautiful baby son is going to have to be put down soon, probably tomorrow or the next day, so send him best of wishes for his next few days~ Luckily, he's actually not in a lot of pain (for now, hopefully he won't be) and is acting pretty normal, so I'm hoping he won't suffer at all and everything will be peaceful for him.