#but i wish we could do it more with love and wanting the writers to be better than out of like. hatred for people who don’t know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirammanswifey · 16 days ago

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how would be the first time with arcane characters x fem reader (nsfw)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: hi guys, this took me longer than it should have but it's finally ready and i'm pretty happy with the result. some smuts are more explicit than others, and not for any particular reason, it's just how my inspiration flowed and how i imagine the dynamic with each character's personality. as you already know request are open ;)

The room is bathed in the soft light of a lamp on Viktor's desk, barely enough to illuminate the blueprints scattered across the table. But this time, there are no scientific projects demanding his attention, only you. Viktor is sitting on the edge of the bed, his honey-colored eyes watching you with a mix of nervousness and tenderness.

Viktor

"Are you sure you want to do this with me?" he asks in a low voice, almost a whisper, as his trembling hand caresses your cheek. You can feel the warmth in his touch, a warmth that contrasts with his usually reserved exterior. Viktor has always been so cautious, so focused on his work, that this moment feels as if time has stopped for the two of you.

You nod softly, but the knot in your stomach is inescapable. "There’s nothing I want more. I want to take this step. We’ve been together for four months, I think we’ve waited long enough."

However, the words taste half-hearted, and your mind starts filling with doubts. You bite your lower lip, the weight of a secret you've carried for years pressing against your chest. Should you tell him? Will it change anything between you if you do? A small voice inside you whispers that he may not understand, that he could see you differently.

The silence stretches, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks. "Viktor, there's something I need to tell you before... before we do this," you begin, your voice barely a murmur. You take a second, looking at your hands intertwined in your lap. "I’ve never… I’ve never done this before."

Lifting your gaze just a little, you see the confusion on his face, but there’s no judgment, only patience. You take a breath and continue, even lower, as if saying it aloud was a confirmation you've avoided for years. "I’m still a virgin."

The last word comes out as a whisper, and you wish you could hide from the vulnerability you just showed. You were twenty-seven and hadn’t had sex, hadn’t even thought about it. It had never been a priority in your life. But now that you were with Viktor, it was one of the things you couldn’t stop thinking about. You look away, your fingers nervously playing with a fold in your clothing. "I know it’s unusual for my age. I always thought... it should have happened before, but it just never did. It’s a bit embarrassing."

The room fills with a heavy silence, and you fear what Viktor might think. But then, his warm hand envelops yours, stopping your nervous movements. "You don’t have to feel embarrassed," he says with a tenderness that makes your heart relax a little. "Experience doesn’t define the value of a moment like this."

You look at him and find his eyes full of understanding. "I don’t have much experience either," he admits softly, a small blush appearing on his cheeks. "I’ve always been so immersed in my work that… I never had time for these things."

Your lips curve into a small smile at his words, finding comfort in the shared sincerity. Viktor has always been someone you can trust, and this moment is no different. You felt so comfortable.

"But," he adds, gently squeezing your hands, "I’ll do my best. I want this moment to be special for both of us."

A wave of emotion envelops you, dispelling the embarrassment and replacing it with something deeper: trust. Viktor, always so considerate, makes you feel safe, loved, and it is in this space of mutual vulnerability that you find the courage to move forward.

His lips meet yours again, this time with more intention. The kiss is slow, laden with silent promises and desires that have been waiting to be explored. Viktor’s hands slide over your body with a mix of curiosity and reverence, stopping to feel every curve, every line.

You do the same, letting your fingers explore his body, acknowledging the delicacy of his movements, the firmness of his chest under your hands. Every caress is a discovery, a reaffirmation of the connection you both share.

"Let’s take it slow," he whispers against your lips, his voice soft and reassuring. "I want us both to feel comfortable."

You nod, feeling more confident with every passing second. He removes your blouse, leaving you in your bra, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your collarbone, savoring the smoothness of your skin. His fingers worked quickly, almost desperately, on the clasp of the garment.

"I didn’t know you were so skilled at this," you confessed with a nervous giggle as you felt the usual freedom in your chest, the straps falling but still covering your breasts, only to be uncovered by a gesture from Viktor, a gesture with a grace that could only be characteristic of him.

Viktor brushed the hair covering your right ear aside, leaned in, and whispered with his marked accent, "I work with machines, my dear, I’m especially agile with my hands."

Those words filled you with courage, and you threw yourself into kissing him, your bare breasts rubbing against the covered skin of his chest. You moved your hips frenetically, your body begging for more, pleading for that unknown pleasure you were dying to experience. You wanted to taste that forbidden fruit exclusively from Viktor's hand.

With Viktor, everything was slow, full of meaning, every touch, every whisper, a promise of eternal love. Both naked in bed. The movements become more intimate, more laden with desire. You feel his warm breath on your neck, his hands finding places that make your skin tingle, your heart race faster.

And when you finally cross that line together, it’s with a mix of awe and love, discovering that experience doesn’t define how special a moment can be, but the person with whom you share it.

"Do you dare to follow me?" Jinx asks, almost as if she isn't posing a question but throwing down a challenge. Her voice is playful, but there's something in her gaze that lets you know things could get much more intense than they seem.

Jinx

The sound of metal clashing against concrete is the only thing filling the air. The lights of Zaun flicker in the distance, creating an atmosphere that feels as electric as the chaos dwelling in Jinx's heart. You're there, standing in front of her, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins after a night of mischief and shared laughter. Her laugh, like her energy, is unpredictable, dangerous, and so contagious that you can't help but smile every time she looks at you with those bright blue eyes, filled with fun and madness. The kind of madness that takes your breath away and makes you crave more and more.

You nod, feeling your body tense with anticipation. This isn't the first time you've been close to her, but it is the first time the air feels charged with something different. The atmosphere, the closeness of her body, the way she subtly touches you while questioning everything you've done wrong in your life... it all gives you the sense that this is a point of no return.

You're nervous, but the thrill of being with Jinx, that unpredictable and uninhibited girl, quickly dissipates any trace of fear. Jinx is a whirlwind, and though you know you could lose yourself in her, you also feel there's something deeper, something you've never seen in anyone else.

Jinx moves closer, her mischievous smile never fading as she gently takes your hand. "Let's do it, toots," she says with that spark in her eyes that always drives you crazy. "This will be the most fun ride of your life."

The kiss comes unexpectedly, but perfectly. Her lips are a clash of energy, warm, quick, impetuous. You're surprised at how tender her touches can be, despite being so chaotic in everything else. Her hands explore your body with a mix of curiosity and desire, as if she's trying to disassemble you playfully. One of her hands slips under your skirt and brushes against your clit with her index finger, as if testing you, wanting to see your reaction, wanting to have fun with you.

A gasp of surprise is enough to make her laugh and move faster; before you know it, she has three fingers working inside you. You didn't even have time to think, and that's exactly what you shouldn't do with Jinx. With Jinx, you just have to relax and not fill your head with unnecessary thoughts. With Jinx, you just have to accept her and not question her actions.

And that's why you didn't utter a word when she bit one of your nipples hard enough to make you scream. She was pushing you to the limit, her fingers never stopping, never ceasing to stimulate you.

Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, that mischievous, incoherent pleasure. Your first orgasm came without warning, juices running down Jinx's fingers like a broken fountain. The second followed, feeling like stepping on cool sand on an early morning beach, refreshing and necessary. After that, you lost count. You knew nothing anymore. You were just aware that you were enjoying it as if the world were ending tomorrow.

"Tell me I'm the best, tell me no one has ever made you feel as much as I have," Jinx whispered against your neck, covered in hickeys and bruises.

You tried to focus your blurry vision on Jinx, and in her eyes, there was a fragile layer of vulnerability that you could barely grasp but knew was there.

You took her face in your hands and kissed her with much saliva and a lot of uncoordinated passion, something that made the moment even more exciting. Because it was a kiss born from your instincts, from the vulnerability of your being, and the best part was that it hadn't been perfect. It was real and authentic, like your love for her.

"You are. No one has ever made me come so many times in a row. You're incredible, sweets," you admitted between breathless gasps, your body still sensitive but arching for more.

"I knew it, I'm the best," she patted herself on the shoulder, proud of herself.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your body easing a bit. Jinx had a way of making what should be uncomfortable into something liberating, something you had never experienced before.

"Well, get ready, toots. This is just the beginning," she promised, going back to attacking your overstimulated clit.

Her lips trailed down your neck, and you felt how her body responded to yours with an urgency that made you feel alive in a way you never imagined.

From there, the night was filled with tender moments, sincere connections, and a vulnerability you only shared with her.

You and Vi in your room, she had sneaked through one of the windows in the middle of the night. And her excuse for waking you up in such an overwhelming and unexpected way, was that she missed you. And you couldn't scold her, you couldn't question her for her impulsive action because you missed her just the same. And you didn't say anything when she snuck under your sheets and started eating your pussy hungrily.

Her strong arms kept your trembling legs apart, her hair tickled your belly and her tongue, oh god, her tongue was so deep inside you. She was so dedicated to her task, she was trying her best, enjoying every lick. The air in the room was filled with the obscene sounds of her tongue and your muffled moans.

Every now and then you would bend your torso to get closer to her, but Vi would quickly push you back again, immobilizing you with her hand on your neck. She didn't want you to distract her, she didn't want you to interrupt her.

Even then you wanted to tease her, you wanted her eyes to look at you. You needed it. You'd always had a dangerous fixation on her attention.

"Did you really get past the security guards and climb up to my window for this? You must have really missed me." You commented in a mocking, almost contemptuous tone.

And you succeeded, her intense gaze now locked on your face. She pulled away from your pussy for a moment to talk to you.

"From down here it doesn't seem like it bothered you much," She bit the inside of your thighs, an area so sensitive it made you moan louder than you should.

She teased you and went back to her arduous task. And you, you were going crazy, it was the first time you two had done something like this. And it wasn't even half as good as you had imagined. It was much better. You could easily tell she was an expert, she knows where, how and where to touch to make you see stars in a clear sky.

“Why are you so sweet?” Vi panted into your pussy, sucking your clit between her lips and making light circular motions with her tongue. You were going to lose your mind if she kept this up.

You leaned down and the straps of your dress fell down, one of your breasts was exposed and Vi didn’t hesitate to take it in her hard hand to squeeze it.

“Don’t say things like that,” You squirmed into her touch, your hips moving forward as she moved away from your private part.

“Oh, are you embarrassed, little deer?” She said, her typical cheeky smile coming to the surface. “You don’t have to, you’re gorgeous and delicious.” You were going to complain, but you felt two of her fingers enter your hole and all rational thought went out the window.

“Fuck, Vi,” You panted as her fingers twisted around inside you, touching parts you didn’t even know existed or that would feel this good.

Vi licked her lips, tasting you, and squeezed your neck tighter.

"Shut up, we can't let your parents hear us," Her comment made a kind of glint appear in your eyes that she didn't miss. "Or do you want us to be discovered? What a dirty girl!" Her voice has that playful mockery, that challenging tone that always makes you laugh, but also makes you a little nervous.

"No... that's not true," you answer, your words now much more uninhibited. But your voice trembles a little, betraying the confidence you try to show.

"Don't lie to me, you liked the idea," Vi pulled you closer, pulling your hair with the hand that previously held your neck. "Your pussy squeezed my fingers." She whispered on your lips, teasing and humiliating you.

You tried to deny it again, but it felt so good, you loved that she treated you so roughly. That she wasn't careful with you. That she didn't worry about hurting you. Because she knew just what to do and what not to do. Vi was fucking perfect for you, and you were fucking perfect for her.

"I don't blame you, the image is morbid. The little girl from home who doesn't break a plate being ravished by the dirty and rude criminal from Zaun. That's what your prissy parents would think. They'd think I forced you, that I'm forcing you into this. Ironic, right?" The tone of her voice is brazen, almost defiant, but there's something else in her words that makes you blush. Is she challenging you? Is she provoking you? What does all this mean? You feel trapped in her gaze, that intensity that always accompanies it, as imposing as the sound of his fists hitting a punching bag.

And the intensity of her caresses didn't cease, they only increased in magnitude more and more, you didn't know how much more you could take.

"I would love to see their surprised faces when they see the reality, that their good little girl is a fucking bitch hungry for my fingers," her hot breath on your skin feels like a touch of fire.

“Shut up,” you barked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Why? You're getting wetter, you're enjoying this too much," Vi teases you, continuing to penetrate you, taking you to the edge.

And finally you came. You could feel the energy in your body vibrating with the same intensity as your soul moved. It was magical. Everything around you, all you can think about, is her.

Vi didn't waste the opportunity and she went back down to your pussy, feeding on every drop of your orgasm.

"Shit," You cursed under your breath as you watched her.

When she finished she stood up with a triumphant smile, the back of her right hand wiping away the fluid left on her chin. The confidence in her voice and in her actions melts you inside. Despite her defiant attitude, there's something deeply protective in the way she takes you, in how she guides your every move with a mix of dominance and care. There are no doubts, no insecurities when you're with Vi, and you realize that even though your nervousness almost paralyzed you at first, now you just feel the need to be closer to her.

"Thanks, little deer. I was thirsty," She winked at you and laid down next to you.

She closed her eyes and held you close, falling asleep as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just given you the best orgasm in the world.

That night, everything seemed to be aligned: the fresh air of Piltover, the soft light of the stars, and the closeness between the two of you. You had gone to deliver a report, one thing had led to another, and now you were kissing as if your lives depended on it.

Caitlyn

You clung to her body like a magnet, not wanting to let her go; finally, your greatest dream was coming true. Since you joined the Enforcers, you had been attracted to Caitlyn, and not just because of her impressive physique and British accent. Everything about Caitlyn is serene, controlled, perfect. It’s hard not to admire the calm with which she moves through the world, with her well-mannered ways and always upright posture, almost like an unbreakable force. But in that same stillness, there’s something that draws you in, something that makes you want to know what lies behind her façade.

Caitlyn stopped the kiss, her hand holding your jaw in a dominant yet gentle manner. Her dark navy blue hair was tousled thanks to your restless hands, and she was catching her breath. She looked incredibly beautiful. You didn’t think you’d ever seen such a perfect human being.

The sound of the wind is the only witness to what’s about to happen. Caitlyn is there, right in front of you, her gaze fixed on yours, deep and penetrating.

"I think what we're doing is a bit... out of the ordinary, isn't it?" Caitlyn says, her voice soft, but with a tone that makes you feel like she’s watching your every move.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, nervousness pulsing through your veins, but you can’t look away from her. There’s something in her calm that soothes you, but it also challenges you. The fact that she looks at you that way, almost as if she’s expecting something, makes you feel a whirlwind of emotions you don’t know how to handle.

Caitlyn takes a step towards you, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her body near yours. She observes you in silence, as if she’s evaluating every small change in your expression. “I think it’s a bit much to call me that after what just happened. Call me Cait.”

And in that moment, you felt like you melted.

“Cait,” the way your tongue savored her name was timid and tender, like testing if you weren’t doing something wrong, but a half-smile from her confirmed the opposite.

She was your superior; it hadn’t been wise of you to steal a kiss, a kiss that she reciprocated, but you didn’t know if she might punish you for it. She could throw you out of the Enforcers or, much worse, ignore you and treat you with discomfort. Doubts were eating you alive. The fear of having done something stupid was tormenting you over and over.

“Listen carefully. Through the physical contact we shared a few minutes ago, I think it’s quite noticeable that we feel a mutual attraction,” she made a small pause, and your heart almost jumped out of your chest. “However, we cannot let it affect us in the workplace. Do you think you can separate the two?” she asks, and although her tone is calm, there’s a glimmer of something more in her gaze, something deeper.

You found yourself nodding pathetically fast, like an addict when offered their favorite drug.

She smiles slightly, a soft but confident smile, as if she knows what’s about to happen is inevitable. Suddenly, her hands touch your face gently, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The contact is electric, and though her touch is soft, there’s a strength in it that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Caitlyn whispers, slowly leaning in. “I’ll take care of you.”

And with those words, her lips touch yours once more, softly at first, but it doesn’t take long for it to intensify. The gentleness gave way to a burning desire both of you had been holding back. She quickly removed your uniform, amid passionate and sweet kisses, pushing you onto her bed. She gets on top of you, observing your naked figure, a look of approval crossing her face, and at that moment, you felt like the happiest person in the world.

Her hands, firm but delicate, trace your body, exploring every corner with a precision that leaves you breathless. It’s the perfect contrast: her external calm and the intensity that emanates from her touch.

Every movement of Caitlyn is calculated, but also filled with an emotional connection that captures you. There’s no rush, no fear, just a desire to be close, to discover what both of you can offer in this moment. She knows how to make you feel special, how to make your body respond to her touch, how to provoke a fire inside you with just a glance.

In an instant, you are completely lost in her, in her tenderness, in her strength. Caitlyn is not like the others. The way she touches you is not just physical but reaches your soul, as if she is baring your heart while pushing you beyond your own limits. Every sigh, every brush of her skin against yours, is a promise that there’s nothing she cannot expect from you, but also that there’s nothing you should fear while she’s by your side.

When she finally stops, her gaze meets yours, filled with desire but also with something much deeper. Caitlyn doesn’t need to say anything else. You understand everything in her eyes: this is a beginning, not an end, and what happens between the two of you will only build on trust, passion, and something much more genuine than just physical desire.

“I’d love to see how far you could go if you let yourself go,” Caitlyn murmurs, with a subtle smile that makes you blush, but at the same time makes you feel like the only person in the world to her. “Do you want to let yourself go?”

Once again, you didn’t hesitate to nod. You almost protested when she got up; you had already gotten used to the weight of her body, her hands on your skin, her eyes on yours. But curiosity formed when you saw her rummaging through the cabinet beside the bed, your eyes widened when you saw her walking back to you with a black dildo.

Everything was so surreal, you had so many nerves, so many questions, so many doubts, but it all vanished when Caitlyn's fingers danced along the smooth, curved surface of the dildo, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. Her touch sends shivers of anticipation racing up your spine as she brings the toy to her lips, her tongue flicking out to moisten the tip. Caitlyn's eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as she traces the contours of her mouth along the length, her breath hot and heavy against the cool silicone.

"Let's get you nice and ready," Caitlyn purrs, her voice low and sultry. She takes your hand, guiding it to the base of the dildo, letting your fingers explore the textured surface. The weight of it, the solidity, is a thrilling reminder of the pleasure that awaits you.

Caitlyn's fingers curl around yours, both of your hands now wrapped around the thick shaft. Together, you slowly inch the toy between your legs, the head nudging against your inner thigh. The first touch against your most intimate place sends a gasp tumbling from your lips, your hips instinctively canting forward.

Everything was a madness, a kaleidoscope of sensations and feelings.

"Feel how wet you are," Caitlyn whispers, her thumb circling your clit with a feather-light touch. Your arousal coats the toy, making the glide easier as inch by inch, Caitlyn slowly pushes it inside you. The stretch, the fullness, is exquisite, your walls yielding to accommodate the girth.

Caitlyn sets a steady rhythm, the toy sliding in and out of you with practiced ease. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling and shaking. The obscene sound of the dildo plunging in and out of your dripping sex fills the room, mingling with your wanton moans and cries.

She picks up the pace, the toy driving deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. Your cries grow louder, more urgent, as the first stirrings of your orgasm begin to build. Caitlyn's free hand finds your breast, kneading the soft flesh, her thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple.

It was too much, too much, you couldn't take it anymore. The woman of your dreams was fucking you with a damn dildo in her fucking room. You thought you were dreaming. Hallucinating.

"Come on, darling, let it go. You deserve it, you’ve been a good girl," Caitlyn whispered in her marked accent, and you didn’t need anything more to let it flow.

Caitlyn held you for a moment longer, her hand resting gently on your back. Both shared a brief sigh, allowing the calm to fill the space between you.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a slight smile, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and feeling the tension slowly dissipate. Caitlyn moved back a bit, giving you your space, but her gaze remained attentive, as it always did.

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a bit lighter.

Caitlyn turned towards you, intending to ask why exactly you were thanking her, but stopped when she saw you already asleep in her bed, your breathing calm and relaxed. A soft smile formed on her lips as she watched you for a moment, appreciating the serenity on your face.

Without making any noise, she got up and took the report you had brought her. She sat on a nearby chair and, with the same calm she had shown you, began inspecting the documents, letting you rest in peace while she worked in silence.

Jayce's office is impressive, filled with blueprints and artifacts that reveal his brilliant and ambitious mind. You're there, beside his desk, watching him move, standing by the window, unaware of the way you look at him. There's something about his posture, something about the way he speaks with such confidence, that makes you feel an undeniable attraction.

Jayce

But you know, you've noticed for a while: there's something about him that calls to you beyond the professional. You move closer, silently, but somehow your steps resonate in the air of the office.

"Have you finished the meeting?" you ask, your voice soft but with a clarity that makes him turn towards you. Jayce looks at you, and for a moment, everything seems to stop.

"Yes, I have," he responds, but something in his tone sounds more relaxed than usual. The look he gives you is inquisitive, but also something more. He lets you know with a smile that hides a slight challenge. "Is there anything else you need?"

Without warning, you move closer, the space between the two of you narrowing. He doesn't say anything, but you can see the surprise in his eyes when you stand right in front of him, your fingers lightly touching his chest. The air becomes dense, heavy, as if you're waiting for him to say something.

But you take the initiative. You place a hand on his neck, forcing his gaze to yours. "Yes, actually... there is something I need," you say, and the way you say it makes him fall silent. The tone of your voice is firm, but it's charged with palpable electricity, something both of you can feel.

Jayce stays still, but you can see he's tense, slightly surprised by what you're doing, as if he's not used to someone taking control in a situation like this. But it's not like he's upset, rather, he seems to be waiting for you to continue with what you have in mind.

The hand that was on his neck now slowly moves down, sliding over his chest until it reaches his waist, delving into his pants. The touch is soft, yet confident. Your fingers touch his semi-hard cock, feeling how his breathing quickens.

"And that, Jayce, is for you to stop for a second and listen to me," you say, and with a smile that's part challenge, part promise.

Jayce is left speechless, but he plays along, letting you lead him to the edge of the desk. You have his full attention now, and the way he looks at you, the way he seems to be waiting for each of your moves, makes you feel incredibly powerful. He, the great leader of Piltover, is now in your hands, and you know it.

Without taking your eyes off him, you lower yourself to his lower part, maneuvering to unbutton his pants. And when you succeed, you sigh with joy, his impressive length bouncing against your face, ready for you.

You look directly into his eyes, seeing a slight tension form on his face, but there's also something else: desire. A desire hidden beneath his facade of power and control.

"I've seen you very stressed lately, and I don't like seeing that pretty face full of wrinkles. I'm going to make you feel good, my fellow" you whisper against his cock, blowing warm air on his large, leaking member.

He seems to take a deep breath, as if he's trying to process what's happening. But when your hands start to glide along his length, everything else disappears.

Your touch is gentle, teasing at first, barely grazing his sensitive flesh. You watch, transfixed, as a bead of moisture wells up at the flushed tip, tempting you to taste. Unable to resist, you lean in and lap at it with the flat of your tongue, savoring the heady, masculine flavor that explodes across your senses.

Spurred on by his sharp intake of breath, you take him into your mouth, engulfing the swollen head and suckling gently. Your tongue swirls around him, taking him deeper on each downstroke until he hits the back of your throat. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, growing even harder and more insistent.

You pull back slowly, releasing him from your mouth with a lewd pop. A string of saliva connects your bottom lip to the engorged head of his cock. You look up at him with hooded eyes, your lips curling into a seductive smile. "You taste so good," you purr, stroking him faster now. "I want to make you feel amazing, golden boy."

You see him lose control, but it's different. He's more vulnerable, more human, more real. And you're there, enjoying every second of that power.

The brush of your lips over his cock makes him sigh, but this time, the sigh is a whisper of surrender. He is no longer the leader of Piltover, the man of steel and determination. Now he's just Jayce, the man who yields to you, the man who lets himself be carried away by desire, by the need to feel closer to you.

With every step, you take him further beyond his limits. And as you do, he also shows you, in silence, how much he wants you, how much he needs you. Everything else fades away, leaving only the desire you both share.

But then, a familiar laugh cuts through the stillness of the night. You turn around to see Ekko, jumping from one ledge to another as if it were the most natural thing in the world, landing beside you with a smile only he could offer. The mischievous glint in his eyes tells you this night is going to be anything but boring.

Ekko

It's a cool night in the Undercity, the moonlight reflecting off the crumbling walls of the buildings as you stand atop a rooftop, watching the city sprawled beneath your feet. From here, everything seems calmer, more distant, even though life continues behind you.

"What are you doing here without me?" Ekko asks, raising an eyebrow, never taking his eyes off you. "Did you think you could enjoy the view without me joining you?"

You laugh, knowing exactly how he plays, how he always manages to make situations feel fun and full of energy. "Did you think I'd sit idly by while you strut around like the king of Zaun?" you respond with an equally playful smile.

The closeness between the two of you becomes more palpable, more charged, as if every shared word heightens the tension between you. The cool night air feels light, but the heat growing between you is anything but.

Ekko steps closer, his eyes gleaming with the confidence he always has, but there's something more. Something that makes you wonder if this moment will be different from the rest. He stands in front of you, his breath now closer to yours.

"The good thing about being up here," he says, looking you up and down, "is that no one can interrupt us." His tone is soft but with a hint of something you know exactly where it's leading.

You follow him with your gaze as he steps even closer. The tension builds, almost like a non-verbal challenge, and you can't help the mischievous smile forming on your face. Something about him incites you to play, to see how things unfold.

"Oh, yeah? And what do you want to do with all this privacy?" Of course, you knew, but you were playing along, as that was the dynamic between you.

Ekko's gaze intensifies, his lips curving into a satisfied smile as he steps closer to you. His hands rest on your hips, lightly firm but without pressing, as if waiting for something. His eyes never leave yours, teasing with the idea of what the two of you could do.

"Why use words when there are actions?" he responds, his voice so low and deep it makes you shiver. Without warning, his hands slide around your waist, lifting you slightly and pulling you closer to his chest.

The contact is gentle, but it feels like an electric jolt, as if everything between you had condensed into that single moment. He caresses your back with his fingers, as if wanting to explore every inch, but in a relaxed way, without haste. His game is subtle, but you're sure he's enjoying the uncertainty you're both creating.

"I want you," he murmurs against your lips.

You smirk and touch his crotch, enjoying his soft gasp in response.

"I know, I can feel it," you say with a provocative air, marking the first victory of the night.

But Ekko wasn't someone who gave up easily. He slid a hand between your legs, brushing against your sensitive spot still covered. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I can feel it too," his tone was teasing, but not in a bad way.

A few seconds of playing, of tension, and then you dare to take the next step. You give him a gentle push, not too hard, but enough to stop his movement and make him look at you, amused but also a little surprised. "Is that all you got, Ekko?" you challenge, unable to resist the provocation in your tone.

With a low laugh, Ekko responds, "You're right, how could I underestimate you?" Then, he leans close to your ear, his breath brushing your skin. "I think this night is going to be more interesting than I thought."

In a swift move, he works on his belt, then pulls down his pants and underwear to his knees. But he doesn't stop there; he lifts you and raises your dress. In less than a second, he's inside you, large and warm, throbbing.

You gasped loudly and pulled his hair. Everything had happened so suddenly, so wild and erratic. But it was to be expected; you two had had immediate sexual tension from the first time you saw each other. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before this happened.

The heat intensified, the electricity between you became palpable, your hips moving side to side, guided by his firm hands—it was a beautiful, coordinated dance. And before you can react, his lips meet yours in an intense but playful kiss. It's not rushed or desperate but filled with the passion you've both kept at bay, that spark that had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.

The kiss is deep, slow, as his hands explore your body softly but with a need for more. Ekko's playfulness doesn't fade, and you can feel how he changes the rhythm, how his caresses go from gentle to more demanding, as if challenging you to keep up.

"I knew you had something up your sleeve," he says, with a mocking smile between kisses. "But I didn't think you'd be this good at it." Ekko traced lines on your tense abdomen with his fingers while you rode him—you were a sight to behold. His muse. There, under the moonlight caressing your face, your body united with his, it was a masterpiece.

"It's just that you make me want to play at your level," you respond, riding him with a steady, confident rhythm.

Ekko throws his head back, allowing himself to let go for a moment, enjoying your delicious motion. His expression is a delight, mouth slightly open and brows furrowed—the face he makes when he's angry. And you've always had a particular fixation on angry Ekko, so you took advantage of the situation and kissed him once more. You needed it. You needed this. You've needed this for so long.

Every kiss became more frantic, every touch more necessary, every moan more intimate. On the rooftop, under the starry lights and the whisper of the wind, there was only you and Ekko. And that was all that mattered.

Silco

The atmosphere in the room is charged with tension. You've been close to him for some time, ever since that day he took you out of the brothel, that repugnant place that, for reasons you still don't fully understand, he allowed you to leave behind. Life with him is not easy, and you know he's watching you, testing, evaluating you at every moment. But you also know that, in some way, he's protected you, cared for you. And at this moment, that protection seems to be the foundation of what's about to happen between you two.

Silco, standing next to his desk, observes you in silence. His gaze is intense, calculating, but there's something more in it, something that makes you feel a warmth inside. You know you desire him, but you also know that in this moment, in this game between the two of you, you are not in control. And that's something that, strangely, excites you more than you imagined.

"I've been wondering for a while, dear," he says with his deep, controlled voice, "what did you learn in that unpleasant place where I found you?" His tone is cold, but there's something in his gaze that makes everything more intense.

You can't help a wave of shame mingling with desire. You remember that brothel, the looks you received, how you felt empty and worthless. But Silco didn't look at you like the others, he saw something more, something that made you feel important. Now, in front of him, you can't help but wonder what he thinks of you at this moment.

"I want to see how well you learned the lessons there. Maybe I can teach you some new ones." He takes a step toward you, his gaze now warmer but equally firm. "I'm dying to see what you're capable of doing with your hands, with your body."

The comment, though direct and unmistakably harsh, provokes you. And instead of feeling uncomfortable, you feel a surge of excitement fill you. You approach him, without a word, and with a bold gesture, your hands glide over his chest with a softness that contrasts with the hardness of his attitude.

He watches in silence, with that same look that always gives you the feeling he can see beyond the obvious. Silco takes your wrist firmly, without you resisting. He knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to go after it.

"Do you think you're capable of doing it, or should you keep waiting to be 'saved'?" The way he says it challenges you, and it's not the question that bothers you, but the way he throws it at you, as if demanding an answer no matter how much you hate or desire him.

At that moment, something inside you snaps, and you can't help it. You stare at him, defying him, knowing you want him, but not wanting to give in so easily. "Do you really think you can teach me something? I don't think so," you say with a playful tone but with that fire in your eyes that you know he likes.

His response is immediate. He grabs you by the waist and, in a swift movement, pushes you against his desk, bending your torso and pressing your face against the wooden surface. The distance between your bodies is minimal, almost nonexistent, as his hands find your underwear, in a brutal and demanding manner. There is no softness, no tender caresses; it's all hardness, passion, and control. Silco owns the moment, and you are his.

"I think it's time you see what happens when you act like a spoiled brat," he whispers, his voice low and almost dangerous. And you have the feeling you're on slippery ground, but that only increases the intensity of the moment. His cock enters you slowly, painfully slow, as if he were torturing you, and before you could say anything, he had already started fucking you hard.

Your body reacts immediately, feeling his dominance and the way his hands move over you with urgency. You don't resist because you know this is what you've been waiting for. In his thrusts, there is power, control, but also a palpable desire to possess you, to take what belongs to him.

Silco isn't afraid to show you his rough side. He caresses you firmly, no matter what you think, as if everything you have been until now fades away in the act. You are not the girl you used to be, the one who escaped from men who saw her as mere merchandise. No, now you are in front of him, showing him that you also know what you want.

"I should have fucked you earlier. You feel incredible. Now I understand why you were so expensive; you must have been one of the star workers," he says, with his rough voice, as his hands cling to your hips, pushing into you relentlessly, each movement more demanding than the last. "But now you're mine."

And though every word he says burns you, you know this is a game where neither of you is afraid to lose. Silco has taken over you, but the truth is you have also taken over him, and both are caught in this whirlwind of desire and power, where passion consumes everything.

When you enter, Mel greets you with a soft smile, her gaze as always, deep, calculating, but this time there’s something different in her eyes, something that makes you feel like you’re not in the middle of a negotiation or a political discussion, but in something much more personal.

Mel

"Stay close," she says with that soft but firm voice that always makes you feel like everything else disappears. There are no rules, no power tensions, only the weight of desire slowly building between the two of you.

The distance between you is minimal, but Mel doesn’t make the first move, she waits. She looks at you with those eyes that seem to see everything about you, making you feel exposed but, at the same time, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as if there’s a tacit permission in her gaze, an understanding that this moment will belong to just the two of you.

The space between you fills with palpable energy, the room dimly lit by candlelight, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. It’s not a place of power, but of calm, where the rules are different, and emotions are raw.

You gasp in surprise when you see her shed her robe, revealing nothing underneath. Her beautiful dark skin contrasted with the golden details she always wore as accessories. She was ethereal. That woman was ethereal.

Insecure, you undress as well, nervous about not meeting her expectations. Because you could never come close to her beauty and divinity. Once you’re naked, your trembling hands move to cover your body.

Mel steps toward you, her delicate but firm hands brushing against your face. "You don’t have to hide," she whispers, and the softness of her voice completely envelops you. For a moment, it seems like nothing else matters. The tension you’ve been feeling dissipates, replaced by a deep desire, something that pulls you toward her.

The touch of her fingers on your skin makes you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to be carried away by the sensation. She gracefully caresses your breasts, tracing every imperfection. There’s no rush, no anxiety, only the slow rhythm set by Mel, allowing you to explore whatever is blossoming between the two of you.

"I want you here," she murmurs in your ear, taking your hand and placing it on her pussy, the warmth there sending a shiver through you. You begin to stimulate her, and she does the same to you. You can feel how her presence fills the space, how her words are not just a whisper, but an invitation to something deeper. In her embrace, in her hands on you, you find a calm you never thought you’d find, but also an intensity you hadn’t anticipated.

It doesn’t matter what’s between you, what’s happened in the past, or what will come in the future, because in this moment, the only thing that exists is Mel and you, and the connection that feels more natural than ever. She doesn’t need anything more from you, she doesn’t demand anything, but you know that what happens between you won’t be just a physical encounter; it will be a turning point, something both of you will treasure.

Mel leans into you, her lips, soft but filled with determination, meeting yours. The intensity of her kiss isn’t aggressive, but it has a depth that captivates you, wrapping you in a calm passion, where every move, every gesture, holds a meaning much greater than physical desire. Your fingers work harder to give her pleasure; you’ve become addicted to her moans, to the way her coded seriousness crumbles in front of you.

She holds you by the waist with one hand, while with the other, she caresses your cheek tenderly, as if, for once, she allows herself to be vulnerable with you. The softness of her touch is almost unsettling but so comforting at the same time. "I trust you," she says, and those words are all you need to hear.

You take control of the situation, pressing her against the nearest wall, your lips sucking on her skin, and your fingers never leaving her wet pussy for a second. She embraces you and lets it happen, allowing herself to be vulnerable with you.

The moment stretches on, and Mel, with her confidence but also with her vulnerability, guides you without rush, without pressure. There are no expectations, only the desire to share something genuine, something real.

Sevika

The alley is dark and silent, shadows are the only thing surrounding you after the mission you just completed with Sevika. Sweat covers your skin, along with the blood you’re not sure belongs to you or the men you took down with your own hands. Torn clothes and dirt on your face are reminders of what you just went through: more than 30 men, and only you and Sevika, emerging victorious from the battle.

Sevika stands by your side, her gaze fierce, her face as marked by the fight as yours. Yet, there is no fear in her eyes, only a determination that ignites something in you, a need for something more, something raw, whatever may arise at this moment. In the middle of the darkness, the air heavy with dust and adrenaline, the chemistry between the two of you is palpable, almost unbearable.

"Did you have fun?" Sevika's voice is rough, as if the battle left more than just physical marks. She takes a step towards you, her large, strong body invading your personal space in a way that makes you feel more alive than ever. It’s not just her presence that burns you; it’s the way she looks at you, as if she’s not afraid of what might happen between the two of you, as if she already knows that, at this moment, there’s only the two of you.

Your breathing quickens, not from exhaustion but from the tension building in the air. You don’t need to say anything; there’s no need for words. The silence between you fills with the mutual need that has been accumulating since the first second you clashed in that alley, fighting side by side.

"We did it, right?" Sevika almost challenges you with her words, her tone low and loaded with desire. Her body moves slowly towards yours, and when her hands grab your waist firmly, you realize there’s no turning back.

Your body trembles when her lips meet yours, rough and filled with unexpected passion. There’s no sweetness in this kiss, only hunger, a need that can’t be hidden. Sevika’s hands roam your back, pulling you toward her with force, as if she’s marking her territory. There’s no play, only the rawness of two people who’ve been on the edge of the abyss and now surrender completely to whatever comes. She makes you climb on her body, your legs wrapping around her hips.

The air smells of sweat, blood and hot skin, the atmosphere so charged that you can feel the heat of her body as if it were merging with yours. Sevika doesn't ask your permission to explore, to take what you both know you've been wanting for far too long. Sevika is strong enough to carry you with one hand and with the other to literally tear your underwear apart. She didn't wait for a yes from you, nor an invitation, because she was sure that you wanted her, oh and how right she was.

Her fingers pumped savagely in and out, the obscene sound of wet flesh smacking against flesh echoing in the close confines of the alley.

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet, little thing," Sevika snarled, her breath hot and ragged against your neck. She punctuated her words with a particularly brutal thrust, bending you nearly in half over her arm.

You could only whimper and writhe, impaled on Sevika's invading fingers, the rough brick scraping your back raw. Sevika's other hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as she fucked you with wild abandon.

It was pure, animalistic rutting, a savage taking of pleasure and seeking of release. Your moans turned to desperate cries, your nails scrabbling at her shoulders as the pleasure bordered on pain.

Every movement is wild, fierce, a whirlwind of sensations you barely manage to process. The sound of ripping clothes, the clattering of shoes against the pavement, and the labored breathing filled with adrenaline fill the alley. In this moment, all that exists is the way Sevika possesses you, with that unstoppable force, with the energy of someone who doesn’t ask permission but takes what’s theirs.

Her fingers never slowed, plunging in and out, stirring up your insides, until finally, with a hoarse scream, you came undone. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around Sevika's fingers, gushing fluid down her wrist and splattering onto the filthy ground below.

But she didn't stop. She kept fucking you through your orgasm, extending it, drawing it out until you were a boneless, mewling mess.

"I've been watching you all this time, you know what you're doing," she whispers between kisses, her deep voice filled with admiration and desire. "I love women who know how to fight."

Then she pulls her fingers out, bringing them to her mouth and sucking your essence from them with a low, satisfied groan.

"Tastes like a woman who knows how to fight to me," she grins wickedly.

The passion was raw, direct, an explosion of repressed emotions, and when it all ends, only the cold sweat of the battle and the warmth of her body still pressed against yours remain, the feeling that, despite everything, this is what both of you needed.

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endless-ineffabilities · 8 months ago

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chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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targaryenluvs · 7 months ago

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REAL LOVE BABY! / CLARK KENT

PAIRING: Red Kryptonite!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: To make your ex jealous, your best friend suggests the two of you work together. But it’s not like you knew, he was never planning on letting you go.

WARNINGS: Fake Dating Trope, Obsession, Jealousy, Dark themes, Cursing, Non-Consensual Kissing/Touching, Implied Sex, Baby Trapping, Red Kryptonite Clark

WORDCOUNT: 1,390 Words

A/N: Hello folks! This fic is apart of the lovely @lady-ashfades collab event! Here is the masterlist, go over and give it a look and read with a lot of great writers and tropes ❤️ You can imagine this with any Clark but I was leaning towards Smallville Clark!

Your teeth were bound to be ground into nothing if you kept going at this pace. The drink in your hand was warm, despite the ice inside. Your entire face was flushed as you watched your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, stand around and laugh.

His footsteps surprisingly weren’t heavy, “The longer you stare, the creepier it gets.” Clark laughed as you turned his way, eyebrows knitted together in anger. “Who cares, why the hell is he allowed to be so happy. If a girl moves on that fast it’s a shit show.” You downed your drink before turning to the barkeep, he didn’t even need to ask, nor did you.

Another glass slid your way.

Clark was quicker than you, he always was. “This isn’t how you get over someone Y/n/n.” You couldn’t help but whine as you stared at the small glass, it wasn’t small but Clark made it look tiny. “You want me to switch to ice cream Kent?” Clark scoffed, his teeth as white ever.

His hand came to hold yours once he’d placed the glass out of your reach, “Anything, as long as it won’t hurt you.” You couldn’t help but smile at him, “Always looking out for me aren’t you?”

Oh you have no idea.

“Always, you’re my best girl.”

“And you’re my best friend too.” You stood on your toes to kiss his cheek, not noticing how time seemed to stand still to him. His hand came to your waist to steady you, “What if we could make him jealous?” Clark kept hold of your arms, which you found odd. “Uh, how do you mean?” You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye, so you glanced at his hands taking note of the tacky red ring. His hand rose to your cheek, cradling it before leaning in, “I mean this.”

Clarks lips connected with yours as your eyes widened, this was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

You pulled away after what felt like a lifetime to be met with a wide smile, “I— you,” Clark’s head was turned towards your ex Jake. “Well he’s definitely noticed you now.” Taking. a quick glance, you viewed an angry man not taking notice of the girl clinging on his arms.

Shaking your head to try and clear your mind did nothing. What the hell was going on? Pinching the bridge of your nose, you looked back to Clark, “You kissed me to make him jealous? You’re my best friend Clark and this isn’t a movie.”

“Oh come on, a macho guy like him never thinks before getting angry. And would you rather use some random friend or your best friend? You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you Y/n/n.” Tucking your hair behind your ear you nodded along, maybe this would pay off. Either it would help you get over him or get him back.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Clarks eyes shifted, whether it was just the lighting or something more, you didn’t take notice.

“Baby I’m gonna treat you so good—,”

“Don’t quote Pretty Woman on me Kent!”

Bliss. The next few weeks with Clark by your side were pure bliss in your opinion. Almost every day you woke up to a nice message from him wishing you a good morning. Before, unluckily for you, your ex worked with both yourself and Clark. But now it was the best thing since it was undeniably easy to rub your glee in his face.

“Coffee M’lady?” He had a mug in his hand, outstretched in your direction as you took in the lovely smell of the love of your life, and Clark was there too. “I love you.” Your hands practically snatched the mug from his grip, “Oh I guess I like you too.”

Clark shook his head as you giggled sweetly before taking a sip of heaven to start your day, “You wound me.” You raised your eyebrows, “I keep you on your toes baby.” The word slipped so easily you didn’t even notice, but Clark did. So did Jake as he entered the break room.

You used to call him baby.

Taking your coffee, you mobilised and left the room, leaving your ex and best friend fake boyfriend with tension galore radiating from the room. “Kent.” Jake grunted in acknowledgement, “Jake.” The smirk on Clark’s face was infuriating, “Stop.”

He played dumb as he twisted the Ruby like ring, “Stop what?” Clark tilted his head as he questioned him, “Rubbing her in my face.” His laugh screamed superiority somehow, “Trust me, Y/n wouldn’t want to rub herself on you any-day or anyhow. She has me for that anyways.”

“Oh you fucking—,”

“Clark!” Your shout from down the hall caused both of the men to turn immediately, “Watch yourself Kent.” Clark snickered in his face, “Yeah, cause I’m so scared of you right? Chin up Jakey.”

Jake watched as Clark walked away, jaw close the to the floor at the audacity and arrogance around the sweetheart that was Clark Kent. How the hell was he your best friend?

For some reason you just keep going. Never announcing that you were dating but falling into this calm stage of friendship? A relationship? You were fake dating, or supposed to be, but it felt almost normal now. And whenever you’d bring forwards the topic of what you were Clark would always shut it down.

Especially when it came to the two of you returning to friends.

So after a consultation with Lois, you ended up taking him out for a night on the town. Drinks, fun and hopefully enough time for a talk.

You wiped your eyes as Clark laughed at your wheezing, “I can never imagine you acting so confident! Not in a bad way but— oh god, half the time when your food is too salty you just buck up and eat it. I don’t know why you confronting someone is so foreign!”

Clark shook his head as he crossed his arms, “That’s the old Clark. Don’t you like someone who takes control?” Suddenly the jacket you had on was far too warm and restricting as you choked on air, “Uhh, sure.” You absentmindedly answered before ordering another drink.

Not realising it was already your fourth, Clark hadn’t touched his drink.

“It’s so dark.” Clark nodded as you clung onto bicep, “Luckily I’m here no?” He glanced down at you with a sinister smile and he couldn’t help but admire the glee on your face. “Lucky you’re here.” You agreed.

He was in for a good night.

The sun was harsh in your eyes, attempting to roll over to escape you were met with a human blockade in the form of, Clark?

“Oh you’re fucking kidding me.”

Clarks eyes fluttered open at your exclamation, “What’s wrong Sweetheart?” You shot up, clutching the sheet to your chest as he laughed at your actions, “I’ve already done that to you Y/n/n.” Clutching your head in your hands you tried to make sense of how you ended up in your best friend’s bed naked after a normal night out.

You shook your head vehemently, “That’s— that’s not the point Clark! How the hell did we end up at your place when we were walking to mine? And how… please tell me we didn’t.” Your eyes were beginning to gloss over as guilt pinched at his heart, “Hey, hey I’ve got you. I’m so sorry I don’t know either. We both drank a lot but I would never take advantage of you I swear. It was mutual but you trust me right?”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, especially not with the soreness resting in your body, “I just, I’m confused Clark. I don’t know why I got into bed with you, or you got in with me. Don’t you think this would ruin our friendship?”

He sighed as he managed to slowly lull you into his arms with a gentle smile, “Sweetheart, I think we’ve been more than friends for a while. Tell me you’ve hated these past few weeks and I’ll stop. This is Real Love Baby. He never deserved you.” Having someone with you, constantly doting on you. Especially when it was so easy to talk to them since they were your best friend.

You gave in that night, and gave in again.

#clark kent x fem!reader #smallville clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #yandere clark kent #yandere!clark kent #yandere clark kent x reader #dark!clark kent x reader

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neil-gaiman · 8 months ago

Note

This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

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whokilledsamara · 2 months ago

Note

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

#homicipher #smut #homicipher x reader #mr chopped head #mr chopped x reader #mr chopped x y/n #mr. chopped #mr. chopped x mc #mr chopped smut

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mcrdvcks · 1 month ago

Note

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #old man logan #old man logan x reader

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imaginespazzi · 29 days ago

Text

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 is 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 in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling 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-sized 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.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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