#cannonball sports

[paxaz535]

DOUBLE (DATE) TROUBLE [2]

nika x reader + pazzi

(w: fingering again, smut, teasing, playful sexual banter , just the four of them still being freaked out)

POOL – 1:07 PM

The dock creaked underfoot as you stepped out into the sunlight, towel slung over your shoulder, swimsuit clinging like sin. Nika had claimed a deck chair already, sunglasses on, arms behind her head like she wasn’t currently checking you out from head to toe.

“You didn’t say it was that kind of suit,” she said, voice low and amused.

You glanced down at yourself—black, high-cut, deep at the chest. No padding, no mercy. “You picked it.”

She tilted her head. “And I was right.”

A splash cut through the air behind you—Azzi had just cannonballed off the edge, coming up with a gasp and slicked-back curls. Paige stood at the end of the dock, arms crossed, board shorts low on her hips and nothing on top but vibes. She looked down at her girlfriend like she was deciding whether to scold her or jump in after her.

“Azzi,” Paige said calmly, “I said I’d fix your ponytail first.”

“You took too long!” Azzi yelled, grinning.

“She’s such a menace,” you muttered, stepping past Nika to sit at the dock’s edge, dipping your toes in.

“She’s not the only one,” Nika said, following you and squatting behind you. Her hands landed lightly on your hips, thumbs brushing just under the curve of your suit. “This how you wanted me distracted all afternoon?”

“Maybe.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Paige finally joined Azzi in the water with a clean dive, surfacing beside her with an arm slung casually over her shoulders. Azzi curled into her, weightless and smug.

“You two coming in?” Paige called.

You were about to say yes when Nika’s voice dropped behind you. “Race you.”

You blinked. “What?”

She pulled off her tank in one fluid motion—black sports bra underneath, toned arms flexing. “C’mon. First one to the float wins. Loser…” she leaned in, lips brushing your ear, “has to do whatever the winner wants later tonight.”

Your thighs clenched.

“You’re on,” you said, shoving your towel aside.

You both ran.

Azzi squealed as you and Nika tore past her, diving cleanly into the pool with twin splashes. Cold water shocked you to your core, but the adrenaline carried you—arms slicing, legs kicking, Nika beside you like a shadow.

You almost beat her.

Almost.

But her fingers slapped the float’s edge half a second before yours.

You surfaced, panting, flicking water from your eyes. “Bullshit.”

“I win,” Nika said calmly, brushing her hair back, smirking like it was already bedtime. “You saw it.”

Azzi reached for the float. “You two are insane.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t place,” Nika teased.

“Oh really?” Azzi raised an eyebrow—then lunged. “Let’s see how cocky you are when you’re wet and drowning.”

“Already wet,” you muttered, and immediately caught a splash of cold pool water square in the face.

The next ten minutes dissolved into chaos: splashing, dunking, Nika trying to drag you under by the ankle, Paige throwing Azzi over her shoulder and tossing her like luggage. The float flipped. Everyone screamed. You surfaced laughing so hard you choked.

Eventually, you ended up half-draped across the dock ladder, breathless and floating, the sun drying the water off your skin.

Nika climbed out first, dripping and smug. She reached down and pulled you up like it was nothing, eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re lucky I let you get that close,” you muttered, still catching your breath.

“You’re lucky I’m not claiming my prize right now.”

You stepped into her space. “Then do it.”

She glanced back at the cabin.

“Tonight,” she promised. “After dinner. Shower optional.”

Azzi crawled up next, flopping on a towel like a drowned cat. Paige followed, pressing a kiss to her soaked shoulder and whispering something that made her blush.

You sat down beside them, sun warming your back, the air thick with leftover tension and new promises.

This was definitely the best kind of double date.

-

CABIN BATHROOM – 6:12 PM

The water hit your shoulders in a perfect, pounding stream, steam already thick in the air. The shower was wide, tiled in dark stone, with just enough room to move—and not nearly enough to hide.

You were still rinsing conditioner out of your hair when the glass door opened again.

“Occupied,” you called, even though you already knew.

Nika stepped in anyway.

Hair damp. Sports bra clinging. Her shorts were gone, replaced with nothing but toned thighs and an expression you did not trust.

“Could’ve waited,” you muttered, though you didn’t stop her.

“You could’ve lost,” she said, stepping closer. “But you didn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Still mad I nearly beat you?”

“No,” she said, reaching past you to grab the body wash, deliberately brushing against your chest. “Just remembering what I’m owed.”

Your breath caught.

“You’re not gonna cash that in here, are you?”

She glanced down at the water trailing your stomach. “Why not?”

You blinked. “Because the last time we did anything in a shower, we almost cracked a tile.”

“That tile was already cracked.”

Her hand landed on your waist, slippery and hot. You backed up a step—directly into the wall. “Nika…”

“You say that like you don’t want it.”

“I didn’t say stop.”

She smiled.

Then kissed you.

Water rushed between your bodies, but it didn’t matter—her mouth was hot, possessive, tongue sliding against yours like she’d been waiting all damn day to claim you again. Her hands roamed like she was memorizing every new bead of water. You moaned into her mouth, hips shifting without thinking.

“Hands on the wall,�� she said softly.

You obeyed.

She dropped to her knees.

The tile was cold. Her mouth was not.

You nearly slipped when she kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and purposeful, letting the water drip off your skin and onto her tongue like she was tasting you and the lake. You bit your lip hard enough to sting when she finally pressed her mouth to the part of you that was already aching for her.

“Nika,” you gasped, one hand clawing at the tile. “You’re gonna—fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me—”

“Do it,” she whispered.

You came with a whimper, one leg nearly giving out.

She stood like she hadn’t just devoured you—cool and collected, lips wet, eyes darker than the steam. “Now we’re even.”

You caught your breath, chest heaving. “You sure about that?”

Her smirk was criminal. “Dinner first.”

-

THE CABIN – 8:01 PM

Dinner wasn’t at some fancy restaurant this time.

It was better.

The table was tucked by the wide cabin windows, curtains drawn halfway so the last stretch of golden-hour sun spilled across the wood. Candles flickered low—Nika’s idea, clearly—and the air still smelled like roasted garlic and butter from whatever she and Paige had cooked up in the kitchen while you and Azzi tried not to fall apart upstairs.

You padded in barefoot, still warm from the shower, wearing the softest little pair of shorts you owned and one of Nika’s zip-ups. Azzi trailed behind you in an oversized tee and nothing else, damp curls clipped back, thighs still pink from heat and friction.

The smug energy waiting at the table was palpable.

Paige sat back in her chair with her arms stretched wide, grinning like a goddamn menace. Nika leaned against the counter with her sleeves pushed up, licking a spot of sauce from her thumb.

“You two look… refreshed,” Paige said sweetly.

Azzi raised a brow. “And you look like you need to be humbled.”

Nika snorted. “Take a seat, champ.”

You did—right next to her again, legs brushing. Azzi dropped into the seat across from you, already eyeing Paige like she was planning her revenge.

The table was full: garlic butter salmon, roasted potatoes, grilled zucchini, a fresh salad that no one was touching. You had to admit—they outdid themselves.

“You cooked all this?” you asked.

Paige nodded. “From scratch.”

“Well—” Nika gestured vaguely. “We bought the salmon.”

“And everything else was improvised,” Paige added.

Azzi arched a brow. “By who?”

Paige smirked. “Team effort. I chopped. Nika stirred. We both looked good doing it.”

“That part was true,” you muttered, reaching for your wine.

Nika rested her hand on your knee under the table.

You nearly knocked the glass over.

Across from you, Azzi froze a little too suddenly as Paige cut her salmon for her—perfect slices, one after the other. She wasn’t touching her food either.

“You okay, babe?” Paige asked, like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

“Mhm,” Azzi said tightly.

You caught her eye and mouthed, again?

She glared at her plate. Yes.

You smothered a laugh.

Nika’s hand moved higher.

You clamped your knees shut, only for her to press them open again with a nudge of her thigh. You chewed slowly, trying to play it off, but you weren’t fooling anyone.

“You’re doing that thing with your jaw,” Nika said, mouth full of potatoes.

You swallowed hard. “What thing?”

“That thing you do when you’re trying not to cum.”

Azzi choked.

Paige stifled a laugh and held her hand out. Nika gladly took it and the two of them dapped each other up.

“Do not encourage her,” you hissed.

“I’m not,” Paige said innocently.

“Under the table?” Azzi.

“She needs all the help she can get.” Nika.

Azzi stared at the candle. “I’m gonna murder her with this fork.”

“You won’t,” Paige said, voice too soft. “You like the way I touch you too much.”

Azzi turned slowly. “Say that again.”

“I said—”

“No,” you cut in, fanning yourself. “Nope. She heard you.”

“Y’all are ridiculous,” Nika muttered, but she was smiling.

She leaned in toward you, her hand now resting fully between your legs, fingers teasing over the thinnest part of your shorts.

“I can feel how warm you are,” she whispered.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Nika.”

“You gonna make another mess?” she murmured. “Right here, at the table?”

Across from you, Azzi gasped again and shoved her fork into her potatoes like they’d personally offended her. Paige looked delighted.

“We just showered,” you hissed under your breath.

“You’re the one squirming,” Nika said, slipping her fingers beneath the hem of your shorts like it was nothing. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

You glared at her—but your hips rolled forward anyway.

One stroke of her fingers and you were gone. You clenched the edge of the table. Bit your lip until it hurt.

“I hate you,” you breathed.

“You love me.”

And you did. Especially when her fingers found the perfect rhythm—slow, steady, maddening. It wasn’t fair. You were soaked already and she hadn’t even slipped them inside yet.

You heard Paige murmur something low.

Azzi let out a noise she couldn’t quite muffle. Her forehead hit the table.

“I’m gonna scream,” she said into the wood.

“Please do,” Paige replied.

That did it.

You came with a sharp inhale and your legs snapping closed, shorts darkening slightly as Nika’s fingers worked you through it—still outside your underwear, still so damn smug about it.

A drop hit your thigh.

You blinked down.

You’d squirted. A little.

Your head hit Nika’s shoulder, stunned. “You’re evil.”

Nika kissed your hair. “You’re welcome.”

You sat there for a long moment, dazed and trembling, trying to remember how to breathe. The candlelight flickered across the table like it knew your secrets. The wine glass in front of you was half-full, but you couldn’t lift it yet. Nika hadn’t moved her hand.

She was humming softly under her breath.

“You’re—” you started to say, but your voice cracked. You cleared your throat, trying again. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

“I’m so lucky,” Nika said flatly, brushing her fingers along your inner thigh like she was innocent.

Across from you, Azzi was still hiding her face in her hands, shoulders tight, thighs pressed together.

“She needs a minute,” Paige said casually, sipping her wine. “I haven’t even done anything serious yet.”

“You literally made her come in a restaurant last time,” you muttered.

“Allegedly,” Paige said, grinning.

“Confirmed,” Azzi mumbled into her hands.

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying to shake off the aftershocks. “Can we eat now?”

Nika raised her brows. “Oh, now you want food?”

“Now I need food.”

Azzi dragged herself upright, cheeks flushed, curls frizzing loose from her clip. “Y’all are gonna kill us.”

“That’s the goal,” Paige said.

The four of you finally started eating for real. The food was actually stupid good. The salmon was buttery and perfect, the potatoes golden and crisp, the zucchini had the exact right char.

“Okay,” you said after a few bites. “I’m gonna regret saying this, but… this meal slaps.”

“Told you,” Paige said, smug. “We’re good at everything.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and stabbed a potato. “I need you to stop talking.”

“No you don’t,” Paige said, slicing more steak. “You need me to keep talking until you fall apart again.”

Azzi didn’t answer. She was chewing way too aggressively to be okay.

“You know,” Nika said after a beat, her voice low and thoughtful, “we could make this a tradition.”

You blinked. “What?”

She sipped her water like she hadn’t just fingered you to the edge of oblivion. “Cabins. Getaways. Double dates with dinner and dessert and… competition.”

You gave her a slow look. “You mean chaos.”

Nika shrugged. “Same thing.”

“I think it’s cute,” Paige said. “The four of us playing house.”

Azzi stared at her. “There’s nothing cute about what you’re doing to me under this table.”

“Don’t lie,” Paige said, stroking her calf gently. “You love it.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“You’re leaking through your shirt.”

Azzi immediately crossed her arms.

Nika grinned. “Poor baby.”

“I hate all of you,” Azzi muttered.

You were still trying not to laugh, trying not to squirm. Nika’s hand had settled again, firm on your thigh, fingers motionless now—but the phantom of her touch still echoed across your skin.

“You haven’t even had dessert yet,” Nika said, tilting her head at you.

“I had a dessert,” you muttered.

“I’m talking about cake.”

Azzi perked up. “We have cake?”

“We have lava cake,” Paige confirmed.

Azzi looked her dead in the eye. “I’ll forgive you a little.”

“Progress,” Paige said, standing to go get it.

You watched her cross the room—lazy, cocky, broad-shouldered, wearing that black tank and grey sweats like she wasn’t trying to kill you both on sight.

Azzi followed her with her whole soul.

“Y’all got it bad,” Nika murmured.

You raised a brow. “You’re the one who brought a vibrator in the glove box.”

She grinned. “Yeah. For you.”

The tension softened for a second. You caught it—just a flicker of something real under the jokes. You leaned against her side and let her arm drape around your waist.

“I like the idea,” you said softly. “Of doing this again. Cabins. Chaos. You and me.”

Nika kissed your temple. “Me too.”

Across the table, Azzi was already licking chocolate off a fork. Paige fed her another bite straight from the dish.

“Open,” she said again.

Azzi gave her a look, but obeyed.

“Still mad?” Paige asked.

Azzi chewed slowly. Swallowed. “Not enough to stop you later.”

“Attagirl.”

You turned back to your plate, letting the warm sugar and chocolate take the edge off what was already building again under your skin.

The four of you sat there, lingering over the last bites of dinner, the music soft in the background, the candles burning low.

Outside, the sky had gone completely dark.

Inside, none of you were anywhere near finished.

-

You’re cleaning up after that dinner you barely survived—dishes clinking, wine glasses still wet, the room still thick with what they did to you at that table. You and Azzi are trying to act normal. Nika and Paige? Not helping.

⸻

The plates were half-stacked, forks clattering softly in the sink, and your hands were wet with soap suds when it hit you again—the memory of Nika’s hand under the table, her fingers buried inside you while Azzi tried to hold it together across from you.

You leaned against the counter, trying to focus, but Azzi wasn’t helping.

She was drying wine glasses in slow circles, standing too close, lips still stained dark from dessert. Her tank top had started slipping lower, bra strap visible. Her eyes kept flicking over to where Paige and Nika were lounging behind you on the couch, legs spread, watching everything like they owned the world.

“You okay?” you murmured.

Azzi looked at you, cheeks already pink. “I’m not gonna make it through tonight.”

You smirked. “You’re not even gonna make it through the kitchen.”

“I’m serious,” she whispered, biting back a breathless laugh. “She keeps giving me that look.”

You peeked over your shoulder. Sure enough—Paige, sprawled like she belonged there, watching Azzi with a lazy, predatory grin. One hand resting low on her own stomach, fingers drumming a beat you couldn’t hear.

“She’s not even doing anything,” you whispered.

“She doesn’t have to.”

You grabbed a dish towel and handed it off, brushing Azzi’s fingers by accident. She jolted like you’d shocked her.

“Jesus,” you laughed under your breath. “You’re jumpy.”

“She already told me I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight,” Azzi muttered.

You snorted, then gasped when a warm hand slid around your waist from behind.

“Everything okay over here?” Nika’s voice was quiet against your ear.

You tilted your head, letting her nose skim your jaw. “We’re just cleaning.”

“Mm. Thought I’d help.”

She didn’t mean the dishes. You felt it in the way her other hand found your hip, in the soft press of her chest against your back.

“Azzi,” Paige called from the couch. “Come here.”

Azzi blinked. “But we’re not done—”

“I said come here.”

Azzi dropped the towel.

Nika kissed your neck. “I love it when they listen.”

You couldn’t help but look. Paige had spread her knees, one arm thrown over the back of the couch. Azzi stood frozen for a moment, then slowly padded over like she couldn’t resist. Paige grabbed her by the waist the second she was close enough and tugged her right into her lap.

The soft gasp Azzi made echoed in your chest.

You turned back around, heart racing. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Nika’s breath touched your skin. “We’re just getting started.”

She spun you gently to face her, backed you up against the counter. Her hand slid beneath your shirt, palm flat on your stomach. You could feel how warm she was, how ready.

Behind you, Azzi let out a sudden moan, sharp and involuntary.

You froze.

So did Nika.

“God,” Paige muttered, smug. “Already?”

“Shut up,” Azzi whispered, breathless.

You twisted to look—and there it was. Azzi straddling Paige now, her head buried in her girlfriend’s neck, Paige’s hand clearly between her legs, moving.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

Nika turned your face back toward hers. “Eyes on me.”

You blinked. “They’re literally—”

“I know what they’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to say something smart, but then her hand slid down and cupped between your legs, right over your shorts.

You inhaled sharply. “Nik—”

“Still wet,” she murmured, pressing her fingers just right.

You whimpered, arching into her touch.

Behind you, Azzi’s voice broke again—a needy little gasp that made Nika’s grip tighten.

“I swear to god,” you said, half-laughing, “we’re never gonna finish the dishes.”

“We’re not,” Nika said. “And you’re about to make another mess.”

She tugged your shorts down—just enough. Just enough to slip her fingers under the waistband of your underwear and find you again, slick and sensitive.

Your knees buckled. You caught yourself on the counter.

“You’re doing this here?” you hissed.

Her breath hit your cheek. “You want me to stop?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Behind you, you heard the soft wet sound of Paige’s fingers moving faster, Azzi’s breathing turning desperate.

“Please,” Azzi whispered.

That word broke something in you. Nika felt it too—how close you suddenly were, how fast it was happening.

“Already?” she teased, matching Paige’s earlier taunt.

You clenched hard around her fingers, thighs shaking.

And then—it hit. A white-hot rush that flooded your body, back arching, breath gone.

Nika pressed her hand firmly against you as your thighs spasmed, liquid heat spilling past her fingers.

“Oh,” she breathed, stunned. “You just—”

You moaned her name, shaky and dazed.

Behind you, Paige let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” she said. “Now that’s a slip.”

Azzi’s next moan was muffled—she’d bitten Paige’s shoulder to keep from screaming.

You sagged against the counter, boneless.

Nika kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

You nodded. “I think I need a nap.”

“Too bad,” she said. “You’ve got round two downstairs.”

-

You barely made it down the stairs.

The light above the basement flickered once before it clicked off, leaving only the low glow of Nika’s phone flashlight and the hum of your breath catching every other second. Her hand never left yours, dragging you through the darkness with single-minded intent.

As soon as the door closed behind you, she pushed you up against it.

“You squirted,” she whispered, grinning against your mouth. “You really did that.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even try,” she added, smug as hell.

You shoved her shoulder, but it only made her smile harder. She kissed you like it was a victory. Like she already knew you’d fall apart again.

She wasn’t wrong.

The room was cool and low-lit, a soft hum from the little heater tucked in the corner. You hadn’t even touched the bed yet—it was still perfectly made, your bags in opposite corners. But Nika didn’t seem interested in patience tonight. Her fingers were already at your shirt hem, lifting it off, wet from the earlier mess but not caring.

Your shorts were next, kicked somewhere halfway between the doorway and the edge of the bed. She didn’t bother folding anything. She just watched.

Watched how you stood there, flushed and stripped, bare thighs glistening faintly in the dim light. Watched how your nipples peaked from the cool air. Watched you breathe.

“Come here.”

It wasn’t a request.

You stepped forward and she caught you, hands at your hips, mouth against your neck. She kissed lower, down your collarbone, then pushed you gently back until the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

“Lie down.”

You obeyed. Chest rising, thighs pressed together, trying not to squirm.

Nika stood over you, stripping out of her tank top, slow and easy like she had nowhere else to be. Her sports bra followed, then her joggers. You watched the waistband slide over her hips, revealing the outline of the strap she’d kept hidden during the whole dinner.

Your stomach clenched.

She saw your eyes dip—and smiled.

“Oh,” she said, voice low. “You want it now, huh?”

You nodded. Breathless. She hadn’t even touched you again yet and you were already back on edge.

She got on the bed slowly, crawling up over your body until her mouth hovered just over your chest, hot breath teasing your skin.

“You gonna take it this time?” she whispered.

You bit your lip. “Always do.”

Her hand slid between your legs, fingers pressing just enough to make you gasp.

“You’re still wet.”

“You made me that way.”

“Damn right I did.”

She slid two fingers inside you like she already owned the place—and she did. Your back arched, thighs spread wider without being asked. Her hand moved slow, steady, letting you feel every stroke. Letting you want more.

Then she pulled away.

You almost sobbed. “Nika—”

The outline of the strap made you twitch with anticipation. She looked down at you, flushed and wrecked already.

“You ready for me, baby?”

You nodded. “Please.”

She lined up slow, guiding the tip between your folds, watching you flinch.

Then she pushed in, inch by inch, and your breath hitched.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. Nika dragged it out—every thrust deep and purposeful, every motion meant to leave you sore in the morning.

You clung to her, hands gripping her biceps, nails leaving faint lines. Your mouth hung open, head tilted back against the pillow.

She leaned in. “Say my name.”

“Nika,” you gasped, breath catching.

“Louder.”

She shifted angles—hit something mean—and you cried out. “Nika—”

She fucked you through it, murmuring praise low against your skin, telling you how good you looked, how tight you were, how close.

And you were close—so dangerously close again. Heat curled in your stomach, legs trembling.

Then—

“Shit,” you gasped. “I—I’m gonna—”

She slammed in one more time and held you there, hips flush against yours.

You shattered.

Another rush—hotter, wetter, your thighs spasming around her as you moaned her name like a confession. You soaked the sheets, hands scrabbling for her, trembling under the weight of it.

She didn’t move. Just held you through it, staring down at the mess you made.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “That’s twice tonight.”

You couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was lie there, twitching, ruined.

She leaned down, kissed your lips soft and slow. “That was hot as fuck.”

You barely managed to nod.

From upstairs, faintly, you heard another moan—Azzi, breathless and ragged.

Nika pulled back to listen. Then she looked at you with a wicked grin.

“Round three?” she asked.

You groaned. “Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” she said, settling between your legs again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-

The basement was still heavy with heat, your thighs still sticky against Nika’s as you lay half on top of her, head buried in the crook of her shoulder. One of her hands was lazily combing through your damp hair, the other resting low on your ass, palm splayed like she wasn’t done with you yet.

Neither of you had said much since you collapsed into each other. Just the sound of breathing, steady now. The occasional hum of the heater. The soft tick of the bedside clock.

And from somewhere above—a floorboard creaked.

You stifled a laugh into Nika’s skin. “Still going?”

Nika tilted her head, listening. “I think they just finished.”

You both waited.

Then: a muffled, high-pitched sigh. Definitely Azzi. Followed by the unmistakable sound of a mattress protesting under weight.

Nika smirked. “Nope. I lied.”

You rolled onto your back, grinning at the ceiling like you could see through it. “Is she crying again?”

“She’s sensitive,” Nika murmured. “Paige probably dragged it out on purpose.”

You snorted. “I mean… so did you.”

“Different context. I made you squirt.”

You slapped her chest, laughing. “You would bring that up again.”

“I’m just saying. Not everyone’s doing that upstairs.”

Another moan drifted faintly through the floorboards. Longer this time. You both froze.

Then Nika turned her head, met your eyes, and whispered with a grin, “That’s three.”

You lost it. Buried your face in the pillow, shaking with silent laughter while Nika dragged the blanket higher over both of you.

“Should we be nice and let them have their moment?” you asked, voice muffled.

Nika kissed your shoulder. “Hell no. They didn’t let us have ours.”

You leaned up on one elbow, messy hair falling into your face. “Wanna be petty about it?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Always.”

You reached for your phone. “What do you think—voice memo of you saying ‘good girl’ on loop?”

She took the phone from you and hit record. Then she looked right at you, voice low and clear:

“Tell Paige I made you squirt twice.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth, wheezing, while Nika stopped the recording with a satisfied tap and sent it straight into the group chat.

Moments later, the floor creaked again.

Then a loud, exasperated thump.

Then—

Paige:

go to hell actually

Azzi:

shut UP 😭😭😭

You grinned into Nika’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

She kissed the top of your head, smug as ever. “I’m the best.”

-

The smell of bacon woke you.

Well—bacon and coffee, and the faint groan you let out when you tried to sit up. Your thighs ached, and Nika’s smug little stretch beside you did nothing to help your mood.

She yawned, arm sliding around your waist. “You good?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

She kissed your shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

You grumbled something unholy and dragged yourself out of bed. Every step down the stairs reminded you of the night before, your legs shaky, your skin still warm from where her mouth had been last.

You reached the kitchen first. Azzi was already sitting at the counter, hoodie drowning her frame, hair up in a mess of a bun. She looked equally ruined and extremely caffeinated.

She met your eyes and said, “You good?”

You both burst out laughing at the same time.

“No,” you groaned, limping to the fridge for juice. “You?”

“I couldn’t feel my legs for like an hour.”

“That makes two of us.”

Behind you, Nika’s voice floated in, still low from sleep. “Three, technically.”

You turned. “You shouldn’t be fine.”

“I hydrate.” She kissed your cheek on the way to the coffee pot.

Azzi squinted up at her. “That voice memo? Was rude as hell.”

Paige appeared at the top of the stairs, hoodie slung low, sleep still in her eyes. “What’s rude as hell?”

Azzi deadpanned, “Your ego.”

Paige just grinned and padded over to kiss her. “Morning, baby.”

Azzi mumbled something that sounded like “don’t baby me after that shit” but still leaned into the kiss anyway.

You poured two glasses of orange juice and passed one to Nika.

“Alright,” Paige said, stretching her arms above her head, shirt riding up her stomach. “Who’s making pancakes?”

“Who says we’re eating pancakes?” Nika muttered, sipping her coffee.

You gave her a look. “You dragged me into hell last night and now you’re skipping carbs?”

“She’s a menace,” Azzi said, resting her chin in her hands. “Also, for the record, someone bit me.”

Paige looked completely unbothered. “You loved it.”

Azzi didn’t deny it.

There was a brief, comfortable silence while the bacon sizzled. You flipped it while Nika started cracking eggs into a bowl, sleeves pushed up, a lazy confidence in every motion.

Paige leaned against the counter, eyeing the bruises on your neck.

“So,” she said. “Did you squirt again or was that just a one-night-only special?”

You whipped your head around. “Excuse me—”

Nika didn’t even flinch. “Wanna see the video?”

Azzi dropped her head to the counter with a thunk. You were too stunned to speak. These two together have no filter.

“I hate it here,” Azzi mumbled.

Paige just grinned. “You love it.”

—

It took a while to actually leave the cabin.

You stalled. They stalled. Bags were half-packed for an hour. There were too many stolen kisses in the doorway, a round of “who left their charger,” and at least one more lazy makeout session on the couch.

But eventually, you all made it back.

Dorm parking lot. Shoes dragging. Sunglasses on.

You barely made it two steps into the building before Ice, Jana, KK, and Makayla were waiting—arms crossed, eyebrows raised, the whole crew lined up like a firing squad.

Ice spoke first, eyes flicking between the four of you. “So… how was your… cabin weekend?”

The pause was deadly.

You, Nika, Paige, and Azzi all glanced at each other.

Silent for one beat. Then two.

And then—cracked up.

Full-blown, hunched-over, wheezing laughter. Azzi clung to Paige’s arm. You were doubled over against Nika. Nobody could breathe.

Makayla just shook her head. “God, I knew you were competitive, but shit.”

KK smirked. “Y’all look like you lost a fight and enjoyed it.”

Jana snorted. “No notes. 10 outta 10. Don’t tell me a damn thing.”

Ice rolled her eyes but grinned. “You’re all nasty.”

Still laughing, Paige slung an arm around Azzi’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she said. “And we won.”

Nika scoffed. “Twin, don’t embarrass yourself.”

Azzi raised her hand. “I can’t walk.”

You raised yours. “Me either.”

KK clapped once. “Welp. That settles it.”

And just like that, the chaos was back where it belonged.

Home.

everybody was freaked out man

i love how they’re comfortable enough to do everything lol that was the whole point of this anyways (again, hope you don’t take it the wrong way)

this was fun to write.. i got a bit horny but this isn’t about me (who wouldn’t get horny)

anyways hope you enjoyed!

[webslinger-holland]

I had an idea of a cute prompt, where the reader can’t swim, and so Bob teaches them how to?

I adore your writing so much, btw!

The Deep End | Bob Reynolds from Thunderbolts*

Summary: Bob eagerly offers to teach swim lessons, helping get over some fears and building trust with the reader.

Warning: reader has a fear of water/fear of drowning (undisclosed trauma), Walker kinda acts like a jerk, Bob being so wholesome that he needs his own warning ;)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Type: A lovely request

The installation of a swimming pool was one of the best renovations for the Watchtower. Having it outside on an overlook balcony ended up doubling the construction time and the overall cost, but money wasn't a problem for Valentine. The pool was supposed to be a "training utility" used for combat simulations, underwater operations, and breath-control training.

When in reality, once it was complete, it was really only being used as a pool for leisure. More often than not, Bucky, Walker, and Bob spent their time swimming around or playing water themed sports together. Alexei was the one who spent the most time in the pool and just loved the luxury of it. Yelena and Ava sometimes found themselves in the water, but they often opted to lounge around the lawn chairs in the sun.

And then there was her. The one who almost never got into the water.

Even if she did get in, Y/n only wanted to get her feet wet and never came to the pool wearing a swimsuit. Walker once joked that she didn't own one and Yelena offered one of hers to borrow, but Y/n politely declined.

One hot summer afternoon, the team decided to spend some much needed time relaxing by the pool. The girls, adorned in their own suits, lay on the chairs with sunglasses over their eyes. The boys, wearing their trunks, tossed one of those foam footballs back and forth and treaded water easily.

The glass door leading out to the balcony slid open. Hearing the door, Bob turned his head and looked towards Y/n who was making her way out in a simple white shirt and jean shorts. He lost focus for a second and only hearing his name snapped him out of the trance.

"Come to join us?" Yelena asked with a small smile.

"Mhmm," Y/n nodded and gingerly sat down near the end of the pool. She dipped her feet into the cold water and gripped the edge, leaning forward to watch the boys mess around.

"Stand back! I will now show you what true Soviet athleticism looks like!” Alexei announced loudly and charged towards the pool, jumping high and cannonballing into the water.

His impact on the water sent it flying in all directions, causing Bucky and Walker to turn their heads away. A few drops phased through Ava on the lounge chair. And Yelena yelled at him in Russian for getting her wet.

Bob, sparing another glance, caught the way Y/n's lips tugged into a soft smile. The sound of her gentle laughter caused his heart to skip a beat. All of the sudden, without warning, Y/n lifted her head and looked directly at him.

His breath caught in the back of his throat and he quickly plugged his nose to submerge under the water, hiding from her gaze. He mentally cursed himself, but couldn't prepare for what happened next.

Because Alexei swam right under him and rose up to that Bob sat on top of his shoulders. Emerging out of the water, Bob tried to steady himself and Alexei held onto his legs.

"I challenge the two super soldiers to a classic game of chicken," Alexei stated. "A true contest of brains, masculinity, and strength!"

"So you chose Bob as your partner?" Walker snickered and Bob turned red from embarrassment.

"You underestimate him; that's good." Alexei smirked competitively.

"What are we twelve?" Bucky asked with his hands on his hips.

"Y-Yeah, I'm really not good at this game," Bob tried to reason, but he was still stuck on Alexei's shoulders.

"One round," Alexei pleaded with Bucky and Walker. They shared a quick look and reluctantly accepted the challenge.

Not two minutes later, Bucky was sitting on top of Walker's shoulders. The pairs neared the center of the pool, circling like two predators about to fight. A tangle of limbs, grunting, and competitive yelling filled the air.

Walker shouted, “Stabilize, Barnes!”

Alexei bellowed in Russian.

Only a second later, the four of them went underwater with there being no clear winner. When they surfaced, each of them wiped the water and hair out of their eyes. Bob sputtered some water.

"That was great entertainment," Yelena clapped sarcastically. "For about the two seconds it lasted."

"You play like a bunch of girls," Ava added.

"We do not," Walker rolled his eyes. He padded over to the ladder and climbed out, followed by the other three.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you girls play a round or two." Bucky smirked and passed some towels out.

"No thanks," Yelena shook her head. "I enjoy being in the sun and staying dry."

"Same here," Ava raised her ice cold drink in agreement.

Being the last one, all eyes fell to the one who sat near the edge of the pool staring into the water. She glanced over her shoulder and found them all staring at her expectantly. She quickly scrambled to her feet and shook her head in denial.

"N-No, I don't really want to play." Y/n failed to come up with a good excuse.

"Have you ever gotten in the pool?" Walker asked half jokingly and Y/n made a point to avoid his gaze.

"I-I'm just going to go inside. Getting kinda hot out here," Y/n tried to brush them off. She went to walk past them, trying her hardest to avoid staring at them without their shirts on and dripping wet.

"What better way than to cool off in the pool," Walker joked smugly.

Before she could answer, Walker shoved her from behind playfully, but forcefully—straight into the center of the pool. She wasn't given much time to react.

"JOHN!" Y/n breathed a shocked gasp as she fell directly into the pool with a heavy splash.

She didn't scream; she just sank.

The weightless water distorted her sense of direction. There was no bottom and there was no top of the pool. She flailed her arms so violently that they began to burn and grow weak. The bubbles slipped further into her mouth and filled her lungs painfully.

Above the surface, a few seconds of laughter echoed through the air. The only one who didn't laugh was Bob whose eyes were fixed on the spot where she fell into the water. After a couple seconds without reemerging, the laughter died out and everyone went quiet.

"Shit," Bucky cursed to himself and Bob leapt into action.

Without a second thought, Bob dove directly into the water and swam towards the limp body. He came up out of the water with her in his arms, ignoring the wet locks of hair that stuck to his face and the water that dribbled down his chin.

Having come up, Y/n coughed to expel the water that filled her lungs. She half-heartedly smeared the hair out of her face and her eyes burned from the chlorine. She clung to Bob desperately, fearing letting go and loosing herself to the water again.

He swam the both of them towards the edge of the pool, helping her onto the concrete surface and having the others bring her to safety. But John stood at a safe distance and felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

Trying to regain a sense of her surroundings, Y/n tried to calm herself down. She coughed violently, still choking on water; her eyes wide with panic. And Yelena was the first to kneel beside her.

"You’re alright. You’re safe.” She reassured her.

Then Alexei awkwardly came up beside them, draping a sun-warmed towel around her shoulders. Yelena tenderly brushed away some of the wet hair that stuck to her face.

From the way her body was reacting, practically trembling out of shock and utter fear, all of them knew there was some underlying trauma with being in water. They sent each other all-knowing glances; an unspoken look of understanding being communicated amongst them.

"Easy. You’re alright. Deep breaths.” Bucky encouraged with a smile, kneeling beside her and helping her rise to her feet.

"Come on," Yelena came to stand beside her and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. "Let's go inside for now."

"We'll get you out of these wet clothes," Ava smiled and joined the other side.

All three girls began to walk back towards the sliding door; Ava and Yelena throwing a quick glance over their shoulders towards the boys who stood about awkwardly. The door closed behind them and they ushered her towards her bedroom.

By the time Y/n reached her bedroom, the tears had begun running down her face. She tried to sniffle up her tears to no avail, thinking her reaction was plain stupid and she was just showing weakness. The door closed behind them and the walls came down.

"I-I am sorry. This is so stupid," Y/n half cried and half laughed.

"It's not stupid," Ava shook her head. "It's very human actually."

"Walker was way out of line," Yelena insisted with a shake of the head.

"Not knowing how to swim at my age," Y/n scoffed and nervously fiddled with the edge of her towel. She tossed it off her shoulders in slight frustration, proceeding to shed the wet clothes from her body because she just hated the feeling. "Being scared of water," Y/n spoke angrily more to herself.

Rifling through her drawers to find new clothes, Y/n tugged them over her body and pulled the wet hair from under her shirt collar. She smoothed her hands over her shirt as if trying to brush the entire experience away.

"You know..." Yelena tested the waters by stepping forward. "It's never to late to learn."

"What?" Y/n asked with furrowed brows.

"To swim," Yelena extended and Y/n's face went pale. "Nobody would judge you— "

"I-I don't know," Y/n lowered her gaze to stare down at the floor, suddenly feeling nervous and anxious about the idea of trying something new.

All of the sudden, there was a soft knocking sound that came from the door. She brushed past the others and grabbed the door handle, opening the door to reveal Bob standing there. Her breath caught in the back of her throat because...

Bob was still dripping wet from the pool and was still not wearing a shirt (just his swim trunks). He stood there panting like he was still trying to recover his breath from the dive, sending a brief smile at the sight of her standing there. His hair clung to his forehead and a few drops dripped down the sides of his face.

"H-Hi," Bob waved awkwardly. He tried to wipe some water out of his eyes; his hand blindly searching for the doorframe for balance. "Ho-How are you doing? Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I-I'm fine," Y/n said. She crossed her arms over her chest and she coiled deeper into her own body. She avoided his gaze with expertise, trying to hide the evident blush on her face.

"We were just discussing the idea of teaching Y/n how to swim," Yelena spoke from behind her, sounding rather excited to bring up the idea to Bob. His brows shot up in surprise.

"Oh. Really?" Bob asked. He looked down at her for confirmation.

"Yeah. But I don't really know if—" Y/n began only to be cut off.

"I could teach you," Bob volunteered without hesitation and Y/n's head snapped towards him.

"You would?" Y/n's voice squeaked out in surprise.

"Sure," Bob shrugged.

During the team's next mission, Bob and Y/n stayed behind at the tower. They scheduled a time to meet out on the balcony by the pool where it would just be the two of them. So now, Y/n stood at the pool’s edge in a black fitted tank and shorts, hair pulled back, arms folded tight. She still hesitated before entering, but it was less about fear now—more about memory.

And Bob was already in the water. He looked up at her with a patient smile.

“No pressure,” Bob said. “Just you, me, and the water.”

He offered his hand as a sort of invitation and she trusted him enough to take that leap of faith into a genuine fear of hers. She stepped into the water.

The first initial moments felt like her heart was going to leap out of her chest, her lungs would collapse, and the tightening feeling in her stomach only got worse. That was until Bob drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest.

Their proximity left both of them feeling a little flushed. Noses nearly brushing together and skin pressed against skin. She didn't even realize that he was slowly walking backwards so the water rose just past their chests.

"Do you trust me?" Bob wondered. His eyes briefly darted down to her lips.

"Yes," Y/n whispered.

With a gentle push off, Bob proceeded to swim backwards with Y/n's weight of her body resting on the majority of him. She clung to him like to lifeline, truly terrified to let go at first. But he kept her afloat, above the water line and away from her fear.

After some time, Bob suggested having her lean back. He calmly supported her back with one hand. He watched her face for any signs that would tell him it was too much.

"Breathe in,” Bob kept his voice calm “Fill your lungs. They’re like built-in floaties.”

She laughed under her breath, nervous and still clinging tightly onto the edge of the pool. The water lapped at her sides gently.

“Now lean back. I’ve got you. Trust me.”

She did, only to quickly catch herself like she felt herself falling.

"Nope! Nope," Y/n scrambled into an upright position and clung desperately onto the edge again.

"It's alright," Bob reassured her, not pressing. "Take your time."

Glancing at him, Y/n took a deep breathe and closed her eyes. She leaned back again, this time, fully trusting him. Her body stretched out across the surface of the water, tense at first—then easing, just a little, as she felt the subtle lift of buoyancy under her spine.

Bob didn’t let go, not yet. He smiled at how peaceful she looked.

“You’re doing it,” Bob murmured. It was the first small victory.

Each day, they spent anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour practicing swimming in the pool. He first wanted her to work on floating to develop the trust that the water could hold her. Then she practiced kicking off the side herself and towards his open arms. And Bob didn't move, just watched—hands ready, but not needed.

A few weeks had gone by when she made it from one end of the pool to the other by herself. She padded her way over to him, sending him a look of surprise.

“You didn’t catch me,” Y/n observed, knowing that was what he normally did.

“You didn’t need me to.” Bob smiled back.

One of the most nerving lessons involved jumping into the water and allowing her head to submerge under the water. She stood frozen at the edge of the pool, peering down into the depths with uncertainty in her eyes. And there Bob was, just looking up at her and waiting patiently.

"You can do this," Bob nodded reassuringly.

"I--I don't know if I can," Y/n insisted with a firm shake of the head. She took a step back, but he moved forward.

"I'll catch you," Bob called. He opened his arms to her. "I promise you."

She closed her eyes, took a single deep breath through her nose, and leaped into the water. The water swallowed her up and the bubbles around her rose rapidly to the surface.

The water rushed up to meet her, cold and clear. She opened her eyes beneath the surface. It wasn’t blurry. It wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Peaceful. And she didn’t panic.

Her feet brushed the bottom. Her body rose again.

When she broke the surface, hair slicked back, breath rushing, she looked for him immediately. He was right there for her; his eyes were shining.

“Y/n” Bob breathed, moving closer.

“I did it,” Y/n said, half-laugh, half-sob. “I dunked my head.”

“You did it.” Bob was so proud of her.

Gleefully, Y/n launched herself at him—arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. He held her there, weightless in his arms. The fear was no longer there, only the trust they'd built for one another. Both of them, in their own way, keeping the other from drowning themselves.

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS ONE! I AM STILL TAKING REQUESTS

[elryuse]

Seven minutes of heaven with your tomboy cousin Ryujin turns you from best friends to incestuous fuck buddies

Seven Minutes Of Heaven

Ryujin X Male Reader

Tags : Cousin-Love, Tomboy Ryujin, Sweet, Lovey-dovey, Lustful, Teasing, Lots of sex, Teens, Young and Free

Words : 6,868

Hope you guys liked it. More Requested Fics, On The Way.

You hadn’t been back here in years.

The train hissed as it pulled into the station, the countryside stretching endlessly behind it — all green and gold, the scent of pine trees and dry grass sneaking in through the open windows. Cicadas buzzed like they were trying to drown out your thoughts, and the heat pressed against your skin like a heavy blanket.

You grabbed your bag and stepped onto the platform, blinking against the sun.

And there she was. Leaning against a pole with a piece of candy in her mouth and an annoyed look on her face, Ryujin didn’t even wave. She just gave you that same look she used to give when you stole her last bite of ice cream as kids — equal parts unimpressed and vaguely amused.

“Yo.” Her voice was raspy, a little lower than you remembered, and filled with a casual confidence that hadn’t existed when you were both twelve.

You stared for a second. Ryujin had changed.

Her once bowl-cut hair was now shoulder-length and messy, tucked under a faded baseball cap turned backwards. A white tank top clung to her frame, loose and stained near the hem. Her jean shorts looked like they’d survived three wars. And her knees were bruised. Still as tomboy as ever.

And yet, there was something else now — something grown-up, something wild in her grin. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” you said.

She popped the candy out of her mouth with a click. “That’s ‘cause I got hotter.”

You snorted, shouldering your duffel. “Still annoying, I see.” She bumped her shoulder into yours. “Still slow.”

And just like that, it was like nothing had changed. The walk back to the house was filled with awkward silences and the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

“You got taller,” she muttered, stealing glances at you.

“You got more violent,” you muttered back, rubbing your shoulder from where she hit you.

Ryujin laughed, loud and unfiltered, like she wasn’t trying to be polite. “What, did you expect me to run into your arms or something? Cry tears of joy?”

You shrugged. “I expected you to at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

“Dude, I am happy,” she said, grinning sideways at you. “I just don’t do the whole emotional ‘hug me, cousin I missed you!’ crap.”

“Clearly.” The sun beat down on your back as the familiar house came into view — the same wooden gate, the same rusted wind chime that made that off-key ting whenever the wind blew.

A part of you had been scared to come back. After everything. After growing up.

But Ryujin made it feel easier. Even if she was a chaos goblin in denim shorts.

You dumped your bag in the guest room. Same futon. Same tiny fan.

Your aunt and uncle were both still at work, so it was just you and Ryujin for the afternoon.

You hadn’t even finished unpacking when she barged in without knocking.

“Come on,” she said, arms crossed. “We’re going out.”

You blinked. “Going where?”

“Anywhere but here.” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t come all the way out here to sit around and sulk in a dusty room, did you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she was already halfway down the hall.

You sighed, grabbed your phone, and followed.

She took you to the lake. You remembered this place — vaguely. A giant reservoir hidden behind a mess of trees and tall reeds. Back when you were kids, your parents never let you swim in it. Too dangerous, they said. Too deep.

Now?

Ryujin stripped her tank top off like it was nothing, revealing a black sports bra beneath. She toed off her sneakers and stood barefoot in the grass, eyes bright.

“I swear to god, if you don’t jump in, I’m pushing you.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Neither did I.” She took a running start and cannonballed into the water with a scream.

You cursed under your breath — but something about the way she laughed, like the world couldn’t touch her, pulled you in.

The water was cold and sharp and perfect.

You surfaced beside her, blinking water from your eyes, and she immediately splashed you in the face.

“Ryujin!”

“Come on, loser! Fight me!”. And you did. You wrestled in the water like kids again, laughing until your sides ached. Until you were both floating side by side, the sky spinning above you.

Ryujin let out a sigh. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

You looked at her, water in her lashes, a soft smile on her lips.

“…Yeah. You were right.”

That night, you both lay on the roof, eating watermelon and pointing at stars.

“I thought you’d be boring,” Ryujin said, mouth full.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that like it’s a compliment.”

“It is. Boring guys make the best straight men for chaos.”

“You planned this, huh?”

She grinned. “Hell yeah I did.”

A silence settled between you — not uncomfortable, just familiar. Easy.

You glanced at her. “You’ve really grown up.”

Ryujin didn’t look at you.

“You haven’t,” she said. “Still soft. Still kind. Still trying to keep up.”

You smiled faintly. “Is that a bad thing?”

She turned her head then, just a little. Her voice was quieter when she answered. “No. It’s not.”

And under the stars, with the scent of watermelon and the cicadas screaming into the night, you felt something shift.

Something small.

But undeniable.

You wake up to a text from Ryujin.

7:03 AM wake up, slowpoke. we’re racing today. 🏁🚲💨

Your eyes squint at the screen. You’d stayed up until nearly 2 AM last night after stargazing, barely speaking but not wanting to go inside either. It was… nice. Peaceful.

This, however? This was war.

You step out into the hallway and immediately get hit by something soft — a rolled-up pair of socks smacks you right in the face.

“What the hell—”

Ryujin grins from the end of the hall, one foot planted on the wall behind her like she’s modeling for a 90s skate brand. “You looked too comfortable. Thought I’d fix that.”

You throw the socks back at her. She ducks.

“You said we’re racing?” you ask, brushing your teeth while she leans against the doorframe.

“Yeah. Bikes. Old route. You remember the one behind the rice fields?”

Your brain flashes to a dirt path cutting through green, sharp turns, dragonflies darting like missiles. “Barely.”

“Perfect,” she says, already slipping on fingerless gloves and tying her hair up. “No excuses when I destroy you.”

You end up on your uncle’s dusty old mountain bike, and Ryujin’s already two blocks ahead by the time you start pedaling.

“You absolute demon!” you shout.

She cackles over her shoulder, long legs pumping, wild hair flying out from under her cap. “You snooze, you lose!”

She cuts between trees like a local. You try to keep up, but she’s always just a little ahead. You catch glimpses of her through branches — the flex of her back muscles, her voice echoing through the woods.

It’s like she belongs to the chaos.

Eventually, you both stop at the top of the old hill overlooking the river.

She hops off, panting, and plops down in the grass.

“Told you I’d win.”

You collapse beside her. “That wasn’t a race. That was attempted murder.”

“Same thing, really.”

You’re sweating. She’s glowing.

You steal a glance at her — sun on her face, lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Her sports bra clings to her skin, and you look away fast, heartbeat doing weird gymnastics.

“Hey,” she says suddenly.

You turn.

She grins. “You were looking at my chest just now, weren’t you?”

You sputter. “N-No!”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” she teases, leaning closer. “Just surprising. Didn’t think you had the guts.”

You nearly fall backward. She just laughs.

God, she’s trouble.

That afternoon, Ryujin drags you to the local store.

You haven’t been there in ages, but it smells the same — dusty wood, candy wrappers, and sun-warmed soda.

“Two mango sodas and those shrimp chips,” she says, tossing everything on the counter. “He’s paying.”

“Wait, what—?”

She elbows you. You shut up and pay.

On the walk back, she tears open the chips with her teeth and sticks one between your lips.

You blink at her. “I can feed myself.”

She shrugs. “I’m spoiling you. Don’t get used to it.”

That night, Ryujin barges into your room with a flashlight.

“Come on,” she says, tossing you a hoodie. “Bonfire time.”

Outside, near the riverbank, she’s already stacked twigs and paper and broken-up boxes. You help her light it.

She hands you a bottle of cheap cola. Sits close.

Too close.

The fire crackles. Her eyes shimmer orange in the glow.

“You remember that time we both fell into the koi pond?” she asks out of nowhere.

You smile. “You pushed me.”

“You pushed me first.”

“Yeah, because you cut my hair in my sleep!”

She laughs, full and loud. “It was a prank! You looked great.”

You shake your head. “You were a menace.”

“I am a menace.”

She falls silent for a beat. Then:

“But you never got mad. Not really.”

You look at her. Her expression is unreadable, the flames dancing in her eyes.

“You just… stayed.”

After the fire dies down, you lie on your backs in the grass. It’s cold. You can feel her elbow barely brushing yours.

“Truth or dare?” she whispers.

You snort. “Seriously? How old are we?”

“Pick.”

“…Truth.”

She turns to face you. “Do you like anyone right now?”

You freeze.

There’s a long pause. Then:

“…Maybe.”

She smirks. “Ooh, city boy’s got secrets.”

“Your turn.”

“Truth.”

“Same question.”

She turns away from you, staring at the stars.

Her voice is soft. “Yeah.”

You hold your breath.

She doesn’t elaborate.

Neither do you.

The next day is different.

The air feels heavier. The sky is clouded, and Ryujin’s unusually quiet. She doesn’t poke fun at your sleepy face. Doesn’t make you race her again. Just walks beside you, hands in her pockets, eyes somewhere else.

Eventually, you sit together on the porch, the sky threatening rain.

“You okay?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Just thinking.”

“You? Thinking? Must be serious.”

She laughs, but it’s a little hollow. “You ever feel like… the older you get, the more fake everything feels?”

You look at her.

She continues, “Like we’re all pretending. Pretending to be okay, pretending we know what we’re doing.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I feel that.”

She looks at you then — really looks.

“…But when I’m with you, I don’t have to pretend.”

The wind shifts. The first raindrops fall.

And for a second, you want to say something.

But she’s already standing.

“Race you to the shed,” she says, taking off.

You chase her.

Because that’s what you’ve always done.

Inside the tiny garden shed, both of you soaked, she tosses you a towel.

You dry your hair, heart pounding.

She sits on the bench, knees pulled up, watching the storm rage outside.

It’s quiet.

Then she says, “I liked you. Back then.”

You freeze.

She doesn’t look at you. “I don’t know if it was a cousin thing, or just because we were always together. But I liked you. Like, liked liked you.”

“…Ryujin.”

She finally turns.

And smiles — not her usual smug one, but something smaller. Sadder.

“I don’t think it ever went away.”

You don’t answer.

Not yet.

Because you don’t trust your voice.

Instead, you sit beside her, the rain thundering above you.

And she leans her head against your shoulder.

Just like that.

No teasing.

No jokes.

Just closeness.

And maybe — just maybe — you feel the same way.

Summer keeps going.

Days blend into nights, and the air grows thicker with each passing sunset. You fall into a rhythm with Ryujin — a rhythm of late-night bike rides, lazy mornings, watermelon slices, and quiet little wars in the form of teasing remarks.

But something’s changed.

You feel it in the way her eyes linger a second too long when you’re laughing. In the way she’ll shove you, but then her fingers curl around your wrist just to hold it there a moment longer. In how her silence now feels heavier — more charged — like there’s something always on the tip of her tongue.

And maybe you're the same.

Maybe you’ve started watching her too closely. Memorizing the lines of her smirk, the freckles on her shoulders, the way she throws her head back when she laughs like she doesn’t owe the world anything.

Maybe you’re starting to fall.

No — not starting.

You already are.

It happens on the third Thursday since you got here.

You’re helping Ryujin patch a flat tire on her bike, grease staining your fingers. She's crouched beside you, hair tied up in a haphazard bun, an ice pop dangling from her lips like some sort of bribe.

"You know," she says casually, "I don’t hate having you here."

You glance up at her.

She’s not looking at you. Just focused on the tire.

"That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week," you joke.

She shrugs. "Don’t get used to it."

But her voice is soft. The kind of soft she only uses when she means something and doesn’t want you to know she means it.

You hand her the wrench.

She takes it — and her fingers brush yours.

And she doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

That night, there’s a fireworks festival in town.

Ryujin shows up at your room in denim overalls and a sleeveless black crop top, holding two cans of soda like it’s no big deal. Her hair’s still a mess. Her nails are chipped. Her lips are cherry red from the popsicle she had earlier.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“You gonna keep staring, or are we leaving?” she says.

You don’t answer. You just walk beside her.

The festival is all noise and color — lanterns strung between trees, kids running barefoot, the smell of grilled squid and sweet syrup hanging in the air.

You and Ryujin sit on the hill above the main square, legs stretched out, shoulders almost — almost — touching.

The first firework explodes overhead.

Ryujin tilts her head back, lips parted in wonder.

You should say something. You should tell her.

Instead, you ask, “What’s your biggest fear?”

She blinks. Then laughs. “What kind of firework-date-question is that?”

“Come on,” you nudge her. “Humor me.”

She’s quiet for a moment.

Then: “I’m scared I’ll lose the people who make me feel real.”

You glance at her.

She’s not watching the sky anymore.

She’s watching you.

Later that night, you’re walking back.

The fireworks are over. The town’s lights are dim. The cicadas have returned in full force.

Ryujin reaches out and loops her pinky through yours.

She doesn’t look at you when she does it. Just keeps walking like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Your heart nearly stops.

The air between you and Ryujin feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. Her pinky is still looped through yours, a small but undeniable connection. You don’t pull away. Neither does she. The cicadas hum in the background, their rhythm steady, almost hypnotic. The night wraps around you both, heavy and warm, and for once, there’s no teasing, no sarcasm, no chaos. Just this.

Just Ryujin.

You glance at her. Her profile is sharp in the moonlight, her jawline softened by the faintest curve of her lips. She’s not looking at you, but you can feel the weight of her presence, the way she seems to anchor the entire world around you. It’s unnerving. It’s exhilarating.

“You’re quiet,” she says suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That’s new.”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Just… thinking.”

She laughs, a low, raspy sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Dangerous.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, your voice steadier than you feel. “You’re the one who started this.”

Her grin falters for a split second, and she finally turns to look at you. Her eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something in them—something raw, something vulnerable—that makes your chest tighten.

“Maybe I did,” she says quietly. “But you’re the one who’s still here.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know if you can say anything. All you know is that Ryujin’s hand is still linked with yours, and for some reason, that feels like the most important thing in the world.

She breaks the silence first, her voice lighter now, but not quite careless. “Race you back?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

She smirks, the familiar mischievous glint back in her eyes. “You heard me. Last one to the house is a rotten egg.”

Before you can respond, she’s already taken off, her laughter trailing behind her like a challenge. You stare after her for a moment, stunned, before snapping out of it and sprinting to catch up.

She’s fast—faster than you remember—but you’re not about to let her win. Not tonight. Not when it feels like everything’s on the line.

You’re both breathless by the time you reach the house, Ryujin collapsing onto the porch with a triumphant laugh. “Told you I’d win.”

You lean against the railing, trying to catch your breath. “You cheated.”

She shrugs, unbothered. “All’s fair in love and war, right?”

You don’t miss the way her voice hesitates on the word love, the way her eyes flicker to yours for just a second before looking away. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And it’s enough to make your heart race all over again.

She stands, brushing herself off, and heads inside without another word. You follow, your mind still spinning, still trying to make sense of everything that’s happened tonight.

But when you step into the living room, Ryujin’s already there, leaning against the couch with that same unreadable expression on her face. She doesn’t say anything, just watches you, her eyes dark and intense.

You stop, feeling like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. “What?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a step closer, then another, until she’s standing right in front of you. Her presence is overwhelming, her warmth seeping into your skin, her scent—citrus and something wild, something uniquely Ryujin—filling your lungs.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest as she tilts her head slightly, studying you like you’re a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

“You’re different,” she says finally, her voice soft but firm. “Why?”

You swallow, your throat dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She raises an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yes, you do.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, you do know. You’ve always known. And now, standing here, with Ryujin so close you can feel her breath on your skin, it’s impossible to ignore.

She reaches up, her fingers brushing against your cheek, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. Her touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body.

“Tell me,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You open your eyes, meeting her gaze, and for the first time, you don’t hold back. “I’m thinking about you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes soften, her smile fading into something more serious, more intense. And then, without warning, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s both tentative and undeniable.

Your breath hitches, your hands instinctively finding her waist as she deepens the kiss, her fingers tangling in your hair. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, it’s everything Ryujin is—and it’s perfect.

When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to pull away, to laugh it off like it’s just another one of her pranks.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she smiles—a real, genuine smile—and says, “About time.”

You laugh, a little breathless, a little dazed. “You’re impossible.”

She grins, her usual mischief back in full force. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

And the thing is, she’s right. You do. You always have.

But before you can say anything, she’s already pulling away, her hand slipping into yours as she tugs you toward the stairs. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

She looks back at you, her grin widening. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, the chaos begins again—but this time, you’re ready for it.

Ryujin stops abruptly at the foot of the stairs, her fingers tightening around yours. She turns, her gaze locking with yours, and there’s a flicker of mischief that makes your stomach twist. “Actually,” she says, her voice low and teasing, “let’s go this way instead.”

Before you can even process her words, she’s pulling you toward the kitchen. The house is silent except for the sound of your footsteps and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your heart pounds as she leads you into the dimly lit room, her grip firm, almost possessive.

She stops in front of the counter, her back to the sink, and turns to face you. Her eyes are dark, intense, and they never leave yours as she steps closer—so close you can feel the heat of her body against yours. You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat, as she presses you back against the counter.

“Ryujin…” you start, but she silences you with a finger on your lips.

“Shh,” she whispers, leaning in until her lips brush against your ear. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Her hands slide down your chest, slow and deliberate, and you shiver under her touch. She smells like summer—like sunscreen and sweat and something sweet, something distinctly her. Your hands find her waist almost instinctively, anchoring yourself as she tilts her head, her lips grazing the side of your neck.

“Do what?” you manage to ask, though your voice comes out hoarse, barely audible.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, her lips curling into that familiar smirk. “This.”

And then she’s moving, stepping away just long enough to reach into the pantry. She pulls out a jar of honey, holding it up like it’s some kind of prize. Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you can ask, she’s already unscrewing the lid.

“Ryujin,” you say again, your voice trembling. “What are you—?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she drizzles a thin line of honey down your chest, starting just below your collarbone and letting it trail down to your stomach. The sensation is cold at first, sticky and strange, but then she sets the jar aside and leans in, her tongue following the trail.

You groan, your head falling back against the cabinet behind you as her lips and tongue move over your skin, warm and wet and electric. She takes her time, savoring every inch, her hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. Every stroke feels like fire, lighting up every nerve in your body.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your fingers tangling in her hair as she works her way down. Her tongue flicks over a sensitive spot just above your navel, and you jerk involuntarily, your hips pressing forward.

She chuckles against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. “You like that, huh?”

“You’re such a menace,” you mutter, though your voice is shaky, and you’re pretty sure you’re not fooling anyone.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And yet, you’re not stopping me.”

You don’t have a response for that—mostly because you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe. She smirks, clearly pleased with herself, and then she’s back at it, her tongue tracing patterns on your skin that leave you gasping.

“Ryujin,” you manage to say, your voice strained. “This is—”

“What?” she interrupts, looking up at you with those dark, teasing eyes. “Too much?”

You shake your head, your hands tightening in her hair. “No. Just… not enough.”

Her grin widens, and she shifts closer, her body pressing against yours as she licks the last traces of honey from your skin. “Good.”

She leans in then, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s soft and slow and utterly maddening. Her hands slide up your chest, sticky from the honey, and you can’t help but groan as she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours.

You’re not sure how long it lasts—seconds, minutes, hours—but when she finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly. She looks at you with a mix of satisfaction and something else—something deeper, something that makes your heart race even faster.

“You taste sweet,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You laugh, though it’s shaky and uneven. “That’s the honey.”

She shakes her head, her smile softening. “No. It’s you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. Instead, you pull her back in, your lips crashing against hers in a kiss that’s hungry and desperate and filled with all the things you’ve both been too afraid to say.

Her hands slide down your back, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head before tossing it aside. Her own tank top follows, leaving her in just her sports bra, and you groan at the sight of her skin—smooth and golden and perfect.

���God, you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your hands skating over her sides, feeling the warmth of her beneath your fingertips.

She smirks, her hands sliding up your chest again. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You laugh, but it’s cut short as she pushes you back against the counter again, her lips finding your neck as her hands explore your body. You’re helpless against her touch, your hips pressing forward as she grinds against you, her breath hot against your skin.

“Ryujin,” you gasp, your hands gripping her waist tightly. “We can’t—someone might—”

“No one’s home,” she interrupts, her voice low and filled with promise. “It’s just us.”

And just like that, any lingering hesitation evaporates. You kiss her again, hard and deep, your hands roaming over her body as she does the same to you. The kitchen falls away, the world narrows to just the two of you, and for once, everything feels right.

She pulls back just long enough to grab the jar of honey again, and this time, she drizzles it down her own chest, her eyes never leaving yours. “Your turn,” she whispers, her voice dripping with challenge.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You don’t hesitate. Your lips crash into hers with a hunger that surprises even you. Her hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as your tongues dance in a fiery rhythm. The taste of honey on her lips is intoxicating, sweet and sticky, and you can’t get enough.

Your hands move on their own, sliding down her back, feeling the heat of her skin beneath your fingertips. She arches into you, her body pressing against yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. You grip her hips, lifting her onto the counter with a strength you didn’t know you had. Her legs wrap around your waist instinctively, pulling you closer, and you can feel the urgency in the way she clings to you.

She moans softly into your mouth, a sound that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Your hands roam her body, exploring every curve, every dip, committing her to memory. Her nails dig into your back, sharp and possessive, and you groan against her lips, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you wild.

You grind against her, the friction between your bodies sending waves of heat through you both. She whimpers, her head falling back as you trail kisses down her neck. Your teeth nip at her collarbone, and she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair. “More,” she breathes, her voice a desperate plea.

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands move to her chest, fumbling with the clasp of her sports bra. It comes undone with a soft click, and she shimmies out of it, her breasts spilling free. You take a moment to admire her, the way her chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way her nipples harden under your gaze.

Leaning down, you take one nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as she gasps and arches her back. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails leaving faint crescent marks as you give her the attention she craves. You switch to the other nipple, your teeth grazing it gently, and she lets out a low moan that vibrates through your entire body.

“God, you’re—” she starts, but her words dissolve into a whimper as your hands slide down her sides, settling on her hips. You grip her tightly, pulling her closer as you continue to work her with your mouth.

Her legs tighten around your waist, and you can feel how much she wants you, how much she needs you. It’s intoxicating, the way she responds to you, the way she melts under your touch. You’ve never felt this kind of connection before, this kind of raw, unfiltered desire.

You pull back just enough to meet her eyes, her lips swollen from your kisses, her hair a wild mess around her face. “Ryujin,” you murmur, your voice rough with need.

She looks at you, her eyes dark with want, and smiles that mischievous smile that always drives you crazy. “What? Got something to say, city boy?” she teases, her voice a little breathless.

You smirk, your hands moving to the waistband of her shorts. “Just wondering how much trouble I’m about to get into.”

She laughs, low and throaty, and pulls you back in for another kiss. “You have no idea,” she murmurs against your lips.

You undo the button of her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear. She kicks them off, and suddenly, she’s completely bare before you, her skin glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. You step back for a moment, just to take her in, and she raises an eyebrow at you. “Like what you see?” she asks, her voice laced with amusement.

“You’re perfect,” you say, your voice hoarse with emotion. And you mean it. Every inch of her is perfection, from the way her hair falls over her shoulders to the way her chest rises and falls with each breath.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Enough staring. Get over here.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You step back between her legs, your hands on her hips, and she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you down for another searing kiss. Her legs tighten around you, pulling you closer, and you can feel how wet she is, how ready for you.

You reach down between your bodies, guiding yourself to her entrance, and she gasps as you press against her. “Ryujin,” you murmur, your voice thick with need.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark and filled with desire. “I’m ready,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly.

You push into her slowly, giving her time to adjust, and she lets out a soft moan, her nails digging into your back. She’s so tight, so warm, and it takes every ounce of self-control you have to keep from losing yourself in her completely.

“You feel amazing,” you murmur, your voice rough with need.

She laughs softly, her breath hitching as you start to move. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teases, her voice a little shaky.

You start to move, slow and steady at first, letting her get used to the sensation. But then she digs her nails into your back, and the sound she makes is enough to make you lose control. You start to thrust harder, deeper, and she moans, her head falling back as she arches into you.

Her hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you as you move together. Her fingers trace the muscles of your back, your shoulders, your chest, and every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Faster,” she breathes, her voice filled with need, and you oblige, picking up the pace. Her legs tighten around you, pulling you deeper, and she lets out a low moan that sends a shiver down your spine.

You can feel the tension building in her body, the way she clenches around you, and it drives you wild. You grip her hips tightly, pulling her closer as you thrust into her, and she lets out a cry, her nails digging into your shoulders.

“I’m close,” she gasps, her voice trembling with need.

You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as you drive into her, the sound of your bodies coming together filling the kitchen. She moans into your mouth, her body trembling as she reaches her peak, and you follow her over the edge, the force of your release leaving you both breathless.

You stay like that for a moment, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high. She smiles up at you, her eyes soft and filled with something you can’t quite place.

“So…” she says, her voice teasing, “was that worth the wait?”

You laugh, pulling her closer. “Absolutely.”

She grins, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh yeah? What’s next, then?”

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “Let’s just say… you’re about to find out.”

And just like that, you’re pulled back into the chaos, the heat, the endless, breathless spiral of her. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her fingers tighten around your wrist as she pulls you down the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan in the kitchen, still spinning from your earlier escapade. Ryujin glances over her shoulder, her hair falling in a messy cascade, her lips curving into that familiar, mischievous grin.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, your voice low, still catching your breath.

“You’ll see,” she says, dragging you toward her bedroom. The door creaks open, and she shoves you inside, following closely and shutting it behind her with a soft click.

Her room is exactly how you remember it — chaotic in the most Ryujin way possible. Clothes are strewn across the floor, a skateboard leans against the wall, and posters of bands you’ve never heard of cover the walls. The scent of her — something sweet and wild, like strawberries and pine — fills the air.

She turns to face you, her eyes dark and playful. “You’ve been holding out on me, cousin.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How so?”

She steps closer, her hands sliding up your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine. “You’ve been acting all innocent, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing back in the kitchen. But I know you. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Maybe.”

She laughs, soft and low, and presses herself against you. “Good. Because so have I.”

Her lips find yours again, eager and demanding, and you sink into the kiss, your hands tangling in her hair. She tugs at your lower lip with her teeth, pulling a soft groan from you, and then she’s pushing you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of her bed.

“Sit,” she commands, her voice thick with desire.

You obey, your heart pounding as she straddles your lap, her thighs pressing against your hips. She leans in, her breath warm against your neck, and whispers, “You’re mine now.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A claim. And you don’t argue.

Her hands roam over your chest, her touch feather-light but electric, and you can’t help but shudder under her. She kisses you again, deep and slow, her tongue teasing yours, and you lose yourself in the taste of her, in the heat of her body against yours.

“Ryujin,” you murmur against her lips, your hands gripping her hips.

“What?” she whispers back, her voice teasing.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

She smirks, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. That’s the point.”

Before you can respond, she’s sliding off your lap and standing in front of you, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She wiggles out of them slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on yours, and then she’s standing there in nothing but her sports bra, her skin glowing in the dim light of the room.

You stare, unable to look away, your breath hitching in your throat.

She grins, her hands on her hips. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you say, your voice rough.

She steps closer, her hands sliding up your chest again, and then she’s tugging at your shirt. “Fair’s fair, cousin.”

You pull it off, tossing it to the side, and she lets out a low whistle, her fingers tracing the lines of your abs. “Damn. You’ve been working out, huh?”

You smirk. “You’ve noticed.”

She laughs, shaking her head, and then she’s pushing you back onto the bed, climbing over you until she’s sitting on your hips. Her hands brace on your chest, and she leans down, her lips brushing against yours. “You’re not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

You groan, your hands sliding up her thighs. “Promises, promises.”

She kisses you again, hard and hungry, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over her body, memorizing every curve, every dip. She pulls back, her breathing heavy, and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. It falls away, and you’re left staring at her, your chest tight with want.

“Ryujin,” you say, her name a prayer on your lips.

She smiles, slow and wicked, and then she’s leaning down, her lips trailing down your chest, your stomach, until she reaches the waistband of your pants. Her fingers undo the button, the zipper, and then she’s pulling them off, leaving you bare before her.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “You ready?”

You nod, unable to speak, and she grins, her hands sliding up your thighs. “Good.”

Her touch is electric, and when her lips wrap around you, you swear you see stars. Your hands tangle in her hair, your hips bucking against her, and she hums in approval, her tongue teasing you in ways that make you forget your own name.

“Ryujin,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed.

She pulls back, her lips slick, and grins up at you. “Not yet.”

Before you can protest, she’s climbing back up your body, her lips finding yours again, and then she’s guiding you inside her, her breath hitching as she sinks down onto you. She moans, her head falling back, and you grip her hips, helping her move, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

“You feel so good,” she whispers, her hands braced on your chest.

“You’re incredible,” you say, your voice strained.

She picks up the pace, her movements becoming more desperate, more urgent, and you meet her thrust for thrust, your hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer, deeper. Her nails dig into your chest, and you groan, the sensation only driving you wilder.

“Close,” she gasps, her voice trembling.

“Me too,” you say, your grip on her hips tightening.

She cries out, her body tightening around you, and you follow her over the edge, the world shattering around you as you both collapse into each other, breathless and spent.

Her head falls against your chest, her breathing ragged, and you wrap your arms around her, holding her close.

“That was…” she starts, her voice muffled against your skin.

“Amazing,” you finish for her.

She laughs, soft and sleepy, and presses a kiss to your chest. “Yeah. Amazing.”

You both lie there, tangled together, the room hushed except for the sound of your breathing. After a moment, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk straight tomorrow,” she says again, her grin returning.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Worth it.”

She leans in, her lips brushing against yours. “Good. Because we’re not done yet.”

[bradleysass]

spike - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 625 - w/jegulus

"Volleyball, James?" Regulus muttered, dragging a duffel bag across the sand. "You said we were going to the beach to relax."

"I am relaxing!" James grinned. He already had a whistle around his neck like some off-brand camp counselor and was drawing lines in the sand with a stick. “This is peak leisure. Sun, friends, sport—”

“Violence,” Regulus added.

“—team spirit!”

Across the court, Barty was busy cracking his knuckles like he was about to throw down in a street fight instead of hitting a beach ball over a net. Evan stood beside him in a too-sheer tank top and heart-shaped sunglasses applying sunscreen with all the urgency of a spa day.

“You good, B?” Evan asked, voice lazy. “You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Barty squinted at James, who was now doing exaggerated warm-ups in his neon swim trunks. “I am.”

James waved cheerfully. “You and Evan against me and Regulus to start?”

“Sure,” Barty said, far too quickly. “I call first serve.”

Regulus turned to James. “If he concusses you, I’m not helping you off the sand.”

“You wound me,” James said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “But your concern is noted.”

The first serve was fast and vicious. Barty played like the volleyball had personally wronged him, diving and spiking with the wild precision of a man who’d waited his entire life to humiliate James Potter in sport. Which, to be fair, might’ve been true.

“I think he’s genuinely trying to kill me,” James said after the fifth spike ricocheted off his shoulder.

Regulus adjusted his sunglasses and didn’t even look up. “You did beat him at Mario Kart last week. And then gloat about it. Loudly.”

“That was Mario Kart! This is real life!”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

On the other side of the net, Evan yawned, casually serving with one hand while Barty exploded across the sand like a human cannonball. His spikes were legendary. The ball smacked into James’ chest with a satisfying thud, knocking him flat on his back.

“Oh my god,” James wheezed. “He lives for this.”

“You alright, Potter?” Barty called sweetly, leaning over the net with a grin that had murderous intent baked in.

“I think my lung collapsed,” James replied.

Barty made a heart shape with his hands. “Bless your heart.”

Regulus offered James a hand—barely. “Get up. You're embarrassing us.”

“This is abuse,” James muttered as he stood.

Barty tossed the ball in the air again, looking ecstatic. “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” James shouted, charging forward.

He was not ready.

Another spike. Another dramatic collapse.

This time, Evan wandered over and squatted beside James. “I think you make an excellent target, love. Really brings out Barty’s eyes.”

“Glad I could help your relationship,” James groaned.

Regulus crossed his arms, watching Barty celebrate another brutal point with a cartwheel and a dramatic hair flip. “I hate to admit it, but it is kind of hot.”

“Traitor,” James gasped.

A few more friends trickled in—Sirius and Remus with iced coffees, Marlene in a massive sunhat, Peter carrying a Bluetooth speaker—but none dared enter the arena of death that Barty had claimed as his own.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard James had scribbled into the sand just read: Barty - 30 | James - Multiple Injuries

As the sun set, Evan draped an arm around Barty’s shoulders. “Feel better?”

Barty beamed. “So much.”

Regulus helped James limp to their towels. “You’re lucky he didn’t go for the kill shot.”

“I think he did,” James mumbled. Then, glaring at Barty’s smug grin from across the sand, he added, “Next time, we play croquet.”

“Sure,” Regulus said, smirking. “But he’ll probably bring a mallet just for you.”

[lesbianralzarek]

things ral would do if he were real part 2:

"honestly, linux isnt even that hard"

makes his assistants download slack just so he can ignore them there too

you may think his dramatic ass would have a real sick looking sports/muscle car, but youd be wrong. its a honda civic sleeper car hes tricked the fuck out over the course of several years. has done the cannonball run. single bumper sticker that says "my other car isnt a cybertruck"

thinks its neat how he can use his business card for whatever the fuck he wants without having to explain himself to niv. perks of the job, they just cover everything for him

its actually his own card, but his living expenses are so low that he hasnt really had to pay attention yet

he DOES have good healthcare tho, and the second he learns about it he gets a vasectomy for fun (and opioids). hes the hypothetical guy politicians are referring to when they say "people would abuse universal healthcare"

refers to something as being "kind of pog money" in front of hekara to deal critical psychic damage against a woman who has tried to teach him several tiktok dances

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C3)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (5.9K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────────── 03: Making a Splash in the Pool of Love…Yikes

There were two types of people at the pool: those who gracefully slipped into the water like elegant swans, and those who cannonballed in with all the subtlety of a collapsing deck chair. I, unfortunately, was in a third category entirely—one reserved for the terminally awkward, perpetually flustered, and inexplicably magnetized to the deep end of mortification.

Oscar’s sisters were already in the water, splashing each other like some synchronized squad of professional pool gremlins. Mae was attempting what looked like a half-hearted handstand, her legs wobbling in the air before she toppled over, sending a spray of water in every direction. Edie was lounging on a float, sunglasses perched on her nose, lazily steering herself with one foot as if she were on a private yacht instead of a neon pink flamingo. Hattie, meanwhile, was narrating the entire scene like a sports commentator, complete with dramatic sound effects and questionable Australian accents.

And then there was Oscar, sitting poolside with all the ease of someone who belonged there, flashing that same infuriatingly smug grin every time he caught my eye. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a surf magazine—lean muscles, tousled hair, and the kind of relaxed confidence that made you both admire and want to dunk him underwater simultaneously.

Simply put, that sight, holy hell; absolutely delectable.

I was perched on the edge, feet dangling in the cool water, trying to summon the courage to just jump in and get it over with. But of course, that was when Oscar decided it was the perfect time to make things ten times worse.

“C’mon, what are you waiting for?” he called, tipping his sunglasses down just enough to look at me over the rim. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little water.”

I shot him a glare, but my attempt at intimidation was ruined by the fact that I was gripping the edge of the pool like it was my only lifeline. “I’m not scared,” I retorted, though my voice wavered. “I’m just… enjoying the view.” Which, unfortunately, sounded way more flirtatious than I intended.

Great. Just great.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he pushed himself up, sauntering over with a casualness that made my pulse race. “The view, huh? Glad I’m providing some entertainment,” he teased, crouching down beside me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I’ve gotta say, you’re missing out. Water’s perfect.”

And before I could protest, he stood up, gave me a cheeky wink, and cannonballed into the pool, sending a wave of water crashing over my legs and half-soaking my cover-up. I let out a yelp, half in surprise and half in pure exasperation as Oscar surfaced, slicking his hair back and laughing like he’d just pulled off the prank of the century.

“Welcome to the splash zone!” Mae cheered, throwing up her arms in mock celebration as Oscar floated by, still grinning like he’d won some imaginary competition.

I wiped the water from my face, feeling my resolve finally crack. It was either jump in or spend the rest of the afternoon as Oscar’s personal splash target, and I was too stubborn to give him that satisfaction. With one last deep breath, I stood up, tossed my cover-up to the side, and took the plunge, diving in with more determination than grace.

As I broke the surface, sputtering but exhilarated, Oscar swam up beside me, his smile impossibly bright. “There you go,” he said, flicking water at me playfully. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “One of the loonies, you mean.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with something that looked a lot like admiration. “Exactly. Welcome to the club.”

Before I could catch my breath, Oscar splashed me again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alright, now that you’re here, we’re playing a game of chicken. Me and you against Edie and Hattie. They’ve been running their mouths all day about how they’re undefeated.”

I blinked, caught completely off-guard by the suggestion. “Wait, chicken? You mean the one where you sit on someone’s shoulders and try to knock the other team down?”

Oscar nodded, his grin wide and challenging. “That’s the one. And don’t worry, I’m a solid base. You just have to keep Edie and Hattie from cheating, which is honestly the real challenge.”

I hesitated, glancing over at Edie and Hattie, who were already gearing up and flexing like they were entering an Olympic event. Edie perched confidently on Hattie’s shoulders, waving like a gladiator preparing for battle. The thought of sitting on Oscar’s shoulders, with everyone watching—and worse, his hands around my legs—made me momentarily freeze. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be manhandled by a guy I’d only known for three hours, no matter how distractingly good-looking he was.

“Nah, I think I’ll just watch,” I said, trying to sound casual, even though my heart was thumping at the mere idea of the closeness. “I’m not really… a chicken kind of girl.”

Oscar wasn’t having it. He swam closer, his expression teasing but with a hint of something else, a playful determination that made it clear he wasn’t going to let me off that easily. “C’mon, don’t be a chicken about playing chicken,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with challenge. “It’ll be fun. Plus, I promise I won’t drop you. I’ve got a good grip.”

I shot him a skeptical look, my cheeks heating up again. “And why exactly should I trust you?”

Oscar’s smirk widened as he shifted his stance, flexing his biceps with dramatic flair, his movements comically slow and deliberate. He struck a pose like a cheesy fitness model from a 90s infomercial, his muscles bulging as he exaggerated each flex with a ridiculous amount of confidence. The water glistened on his tanned skin, catching the sunlight in a way that would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t so over the top. He raised one arm and gave it a solid flex, his bicep swelling noticeably, and with a playful wink, he leaned in and kissed it like it was the crowning achievement of his life.

“Because these guns,” he declared, pausing to flex the other arm for good measure, “are the most reliable thing you’ll ever sit on.” He threw in a cocky wink that would’ve made any movie villain proud, followed by an exaggerated smooch to his own bicep that echoed like a cartoon sound effect.

Mae burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Oh my god, Oscar, you absolute dork. Stop embarrassing yourself!”

Edie rolled her eyes so hard I was worried they’d get stuck. “Seriously, bro, you’re one cheesy line away from handing out autographed photos.”

Oscar ignored them, continuing to pose as if he were standing in front of a crowd of adoring fans. He shifted his weight, flexing his triceps now, turning slightly to show off the muscles rippling along his back, all while maintaining that smirk that screamed, I know I look good, and I’m not sorry about it.

I couldn’t help but laugh, torn between genuine amusement and secondhand embarrassment. He was so shameless, so ridiculously over-the-top, that I almost didn’t notice the way his muscles moved with effortless strength beneath the surface. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel my cheeks heating up despite myself. The confidence, the sheer audacity of it all, was so uniquely Oscar, and I couldn’t deny the flutter of nerves—or something else—that danced in my stomach.

I snorted, half-laughing, half-cringing at his display. “Oh my god, that was the worst line I’ve ever heard. Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And besides, you get to help me take those two down a notch. It’s a win-win.”

I looked at Edie and Hattie, who were already smirking at us from across the pool, and I felt a sudden surge of competitiveness rise up. Fine. If Oscar wanted a partner, I’d give him one—and maybe wipe that smug look off his sisters’ faces while I was at it.

“Alright, fine,” I relented, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress a grin. “But if you drop me, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Oscar’s smile was blinding. “Deal.” He turned around and crouched slightly, patting his broad shoulders. “Hop on. I’ll keep you steady.”

I climbed onto his back, trying not to think too hard about how solid he felt under my hands, or the way his muscles flexed as he gripped my legs to steady me. I could feel every inch of his strength, and it was both comforting and ridiculously distracting. The water sloshed around us as he rose, effortlessly lifting me onto his shoulders. My heart pounded, but I tried to focus on the game instead of the feel of his strong, tanned skin under my hands.

“Hold on tight,” Oscar said, his voice light but filled with excitement. “We’re going to take them down.”

As we squared off against Edie and Hattie, the pool’s surface rippled around us, creating a vibrant, sun-dappled stage for our impending battle. I could feel every subtle shift of Oscar’s body beneath me, his muscles tensing and flexing as he adjusted his stance, effortlessly finding the right balance to keep us steady. Each small movement sent little jolts of energy through me, and I couldn’t ignore the sheer strength radiating from him, his back firm and his shoulders broad under my grip. He gave his shoulders a little roll, almost like a warm-up, making sure I felt every deliberate flex, each slight adjustment meant to show off his easy power.

“Comfortable up there?” he asked, his voice laced with that familiar teasing edge. He tilted his head back just enough so I could see the playful spark in his eyes, his cheeky grin widening as he caught my expression. He looked absurdly pleased with himself, like this was all part of some grand performance and I was his main audience.

“Oh yeah, super comfy,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but I couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at my lips. It was impossible not to smile; his energy was contagious, and the way he kept subtly flexing as if daring me to notice was half infuriating, half amusing. I squeezed my thighs around his neck for stability, feeling the corded strength in his shoulders respond instinctively. It was like being on top of a coiled spring—every movement precise, controlled, and brimming with unspoken confidence.

He chuckled, his laughter vibrating through me. “Good to hear. I’m not just holding you up—I’m making sure you’re getting the five-star experience.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t deny the exhilaration bubbling up inside me. Despite my initial reluctance, there was something undeniably thrilling about being perched on his shoulders, high above the water, surrounded by the sounds of splashing and laughter. The sun was warm on my skin, and the water glistened around us, catching the light in dazzling, ever-shifting patterns. And then there was Oscar’s energy—playful, supportive, and just cocky enough to make me want to win this silly game purely out of spite.

Oscar shifted beneath me, his muscles rippling as he adjusted to keep me perfectly balanced. His hands gripped my legs firmly, his touch sure and steady as if to remind me that, no matter how chaotic things got, he wasn’t letting me fall. I caught a quick glimpse of his grin, the way he was clearly enjoying every second of this, and it was impossible not to feel a rush of adrenaline mixed with something softer, something that made my heart beat just a little faster.

“Ready to take them down?” he asked, giving his shoulders another purposeful flex that sent a shiver through me, his playful arrogance on full display. “I’ve got the strength; you just bring the attitude.”

I tightened my grip, feeling a surge of competitive spirit rise within me. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of that,” I shot back, smirking down at him. “Just keep flexing, and we’ve got this in the bag.”

Oscar laughed, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a look that was half challenge, half flirtation. “You got it. Hang tight, and let’s show these amateurs how it’s done.”

Edie shot us a look, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re going down!” she called out, already reaching forward with determination.

“We’ll see about that!” Oscar taunted back, adjusting his stance and giving his sisters a cocky nod. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the best rider in the game.”

The match was on, and I focused all my energy on staying balanced and pushing back against Edie’s determined attacks. Oscar’s hands gripped my legs tightly, holding me steady as we twisted and turned in the water. I could feel his muscles working beneath me, and every so often, he’d flex just a bit more than necessary, as if to remind me of the strength holding me up.

“You sure you don’t mind all this muscle under you?” Oscar teased, glancing up with a flirtatious smile. “I mean, I can tone it down if it’s too distracting.”

I laughed, half-exasperated, half-flustered by his shameless flirting. “Just focus on the game, muscle man.”

Oscar chuckled, giving me another little flex just for show. “Oh, I am. But if it helps, think of this as a free ride. Gym membership included.”

With one final push, I managed to shove Edie just enough to throw her off balance, sending her toppling back into the water with a dramatic splash. The victory was sweet, made even better by the stunned look on Hattie’s face as she struggled to keep her sister afloat. Edie resurfaced with a gasp, water streaming from her hair as she spluttered and shot me a half-impressed, half-annoyed glare.

“Ha!” I cheered, throwing my arms up in triumph, barely managing to keep my balance on Oscar’s shoulders. “We won!” My voice echoed with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride.

Oscar laughed, his joy bubbling up as he spun us around in a celebratory twirl, the water splashing up in playful waves around us. I squealed, clutching his head to keep steady, but the sound was full of delight rather than fear. It was impossible not to get caught up in the moment, the sudden thrill of winning, and the infectious energy of everyone’s laughter.

“Told you we’d win,” Oscar said, looking up at me with that signature grin—broad, boyish, and brimming with a proud satisfaction that was almost contagious. He squeezed my legs slightly, just enough to remind me of his grip, his strength, and the fact that he’d been holding me up the whole time. “I never lose when I’ve got the right partner.”

I blushed, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through me at his words. The compliment was wrapped in that same playful bravado, but there was something genuine beneath it that caught me off guard. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I tried to play it cool, though my grin was impossible to hide. “Well, I guess you’re lucky to have me, then,” I teased, flicking a bit of water down at him.

Oscar chuckled, adjusting his hold and giving his shoulders a little roll as if to flex just one last time. “Lucky doesn’t even cover it,” he quipped, his voice dipping into something almost sincere, and I found myself momentarily lost in the playful glint of his eyes.

Meanwhile, Hattie was already splashing water at Edie, who was still bobbing indignantly in the pool. “You got beat by a newbie!” Hattie crowed, laughing at her sister’s expense. “I thought you said you were unstoppable?”

Edie scowled but couldn’t suppress a grin, brushing her wet hair out of her face. “Alright, alright, you got us. But don’t get too cocky—we’ll be back for a rematch,” she said, pointing a challenging finger at me. “Next time, you’re going down.”

Mae paddled over, clapping her hands in mock applause. “That was epic! New girl just dethroned the queens of chicken. How does it feel to be pool royalty?”

I couldn’t stop laughing, the adrenaline still coursing through me as I basked in the impromptu victory. “Feels pretty damn good,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly even though I was still buzzing from the rush. “But I’ll let you guys keep your crowns. I’m more of a co-ruler kind of girl.”

Oscar tilted his head back, looking at me with a playful admiration that made my heart skip a beat. “See? She’s humble, too. The whole package,” he said, giving me a slight squeeze with his shoulders that made me tighten my grip reflexively.

“Okay, seriously, stop flirting,” Mae groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she splashed water at us. “It’s getting nauseating.”

Hattie laughed, shaking her head as she swam closer. “Yeah, tone it down, Romeo. No one wants to watch you make goo-goo eyes while you’re being a human ladder.”

Oscar just grinned, unbothered by their teasing, and looked up at me with an exaggerated wink. “Sorry, can’t help it. It’s not every day you get to team up with someone who makes winning look this good.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the way my cheeks flamed up at his unabashed flirtation. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but my voice was light, and I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest. For a moment, everything felt easy—like we were just two kids messing around, laughing, and letting the summer sun work its magic.

Mae, ever the bundle of energy, suddenly clapped her hands together, splashing water everywhere. “Alright, next game! We’re playing pool volleyball. Hattie, Edie, you’re with me. New girl and Romeo are on the other team,” she announced, pointing dramatically between us. “Time to see if you two are a one-hit wonder.”

Oscar’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “Oh, we’ll take you down,” he declared confidently, wading over to grab the neon volleyball bobbing nearby. “We’re basically undefeated at this point. Right, partner?”

“Undefeated for exactly one game,” I teased, but I couldn’t help feeling a competitive spark reignite. Mae quickly set up the makeshift “net,” which was really just a length of pool noodle stretched across the center of the pool, anchored down with pool chairs. It was half crooked, barely staying afloat, and not remotely official—but in that moment, it felt like the real deal.

Edie and Hattie took their places with Mae, who was already taunting us from across the water. “Ready to get wrecked? This is our turf, and we don’t go easy,” Mae called out, bouncing the ball a few times as if she were prepping for a major league serve.

Oscar leaned in close to me, his shoulder brushing mine under the water as he whispered, “They’re just sore losers. We’ve got this.”

The game kicked off with a wild serve from Mae that went soaring way over everyone’s heads and smacked into the side of the pool with a splash. “Nice aim,” I called, biting back a laugh.

“Shut up, it’s a warm-up!” Mae shot back, blushing as she retrieved the ball. She tried again, this time with a little more finesse, and the game was on.

Oscar and I found our rhythm surprisingly quickly, moving in sync as if we’d been playing together for ages. He’d bump the ball effortlessly, sending it just high enough for me to set it up perfectly, and I’d watch as he leapt out of the water with an exaggerated show of power, slamming it back over the noodle with a loud splash. Every point we scored, Oscar would raise his hand for a high-five, which quickly devolved into splashing water at each other playfully.

“Nice spike, partner!” I called, the thrill of teamwork coursing through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun doing something so simple. There was no pressure, no awkwardness—just pure, unfiltered enjoyment.

“Same to you!” Oscar responded, winking at me as he adjusted his swim shorts, the action so casual yet somehow making my heart skip a beat. “You’re making this too easy.”

The banter kept flowing as we played, each side fiercely determined not to lose. At one point, Hattie attempted a dramatic dive to save the ball, splashing wildly and nearly taking Edie down with her. “Friendly fire!” Edie yelped, giggling as they both resurfaced, water streaming from their hair.

Mae, ever competitive, huffed and glared at her sisters. “C’mon, focus! They’re not even that good!”

Oscar chuckled, elbowing me gently, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Hear that? We’re ‘not even that good.’ Guess we’ll have to try harder.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the not-so-subtle innuendo laced in his words. The way he said it—low, playful, with just the slightest hint of mischief—made my face heat up instantly. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks, and there was no hiding it. It was like my skin had betrayed me, broadcasting exactly how flustered I felt.

I tried to play it off, clearing my throat and splashing water at him as a distraction. “Y-Yeah, maybe you should work on that,” I shot back, aiming for a confident tone, but my voice wavered just enough to make Oscar’s grin widen. His eyes were locked on mine, sparkling with a knowing look that made my stomach flip.

“Is that a challenge?” he teased, his smirk growing as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying how flustered I’d become. “Because I’m always up for trying harder.”

I sputtered, feeling the heat intensify across my face. This wasn’t fair—he was effortlessly charming, and I was just trying not to combust on the spot. “I meant at volleyball, obviously,” I muttered, though my flustered state made the retort sound weak. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rich and teasing as he splashed me back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he said, but the playful glint in his eyes told me he was fully aware of how his words had landed. “But hey, if you’re blushing this much already, maybe we really should up our game.”

I could practically feel my cheeks burning, and I desperately tried to focus on anything other than the way his grin made my heart race. “You’re impossible,” I managed to say, but my tone lacked any real bite. It was hard to stay annoyed when he looked at me like that, with his eyes dancing between flirtation and genuine enjoyment.

Oscar just shrugged, still grinning as he pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “Only when it’s this much fun,” he said, giving me one last playful wink before turning his attention back to the game.

With one final serve from Oscar, the ball sailed perfectly over the net, and Edie reached for it just a second too late, sending it skimming across the water and out of bounds. The game was ours, and we celebrated like we’d just won an Olympic gold.

“Victory!” Oscar shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph before pulling me into a playful, wet hug, lifting me off my feet briefly before setting me back down with a splash. “We’re officially unstoppable.”

I laughed, caught up in the infectious joy of the moment, even as I tried to shove him away playfully. “We’re a pretty good team,” I admitted, feeling the heat in my cheeks again as I realized how much I meant it.

“Good? We’re amazing,” Oscar corrected, his grin wide and genuine. He was still holding onto my arm, and the closeness between us was impossible to ignore. “And just for the record, I’m always down for a rematch. Same team?”

I looked at him, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, the cool water around us, and the flutter of excitement that had been there all day. “Same team,” I agreed, smiling as I splashed him one last time. “But only if you promise to keep showing off.”

Oscar’s laugh rang out clear and carefree, echoing across the pool. “Deal. With you around, I can’t help it.”

Before I could fire back a playful retort, the sound of my mom’s voice cut through the afternoon air. “Hey, everyone! Dinner’s almost ready!” she called from the patio, waving a spatula like a dinner bell. “Come dry off and get ready to eat!”

Immediately, the savory aroma of grilled kabobs wafted toward us, filling the air with the smoky scent of marinated chicken, bell peppers, and onions, all sizzling perfectly on the grill. My stomach rumbled in response, and I could already imagine the burst of flavors—the juicy, seasoned meat, the slight char from the grill, and the sweet tang of roasted vegetables. I could smell warm, buttery corn on the cob, the faint, sweet scent of freshly baked bread, and the mouthwatering aroma of garlic butter wafting from a pan of golden potatoes roasting nearby. The sharp, tangy scent of freshly made tzatziki filled the air, mingling with hints of lemon zest and olive oil, making the whole backyard smell like a perfect summer feast.

I glanced at the others, who were already paddling toward the pool’s edge, eager to get their hands on the spread. “Guess it’s time to eat,” I said, half to myself, but Oscar was still watching me with that easy smile, his gaze lingering a little too long.

“Need a hand?” he asked, swimming over and extending his arm to help me out. His eyes stayed locked on mine, but as I reached up to take his hand, I could feel the weight of his gaze trailing over me—curious, appreciative, and making my pulse quicken all at once.

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled, feeling awkwardly aware of the way the water dripped off my skin, each droplet tracing a cool path down my legs. Oscar’s grip was firm and warm as he pulled me up, his fingers wrapping around mine with an effortless strength that sent a jolt of awareness straight to my core. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, and when he finally did, the absence of his hand felt oddly significant, like a small but noticeable void.

For a brief moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background—the laughter from the pool, the faint sizzle of the grill, the warm chatter of his sisters in the distance. It was just the two of us, and I was hyper-aware of every detail: the way his eyes traced the water cascading off my legs, the slight upward curve of his lips as if he found the whole scene incredibly fascinating, and the way his gaze felt almost tangible, brushing over me like a warm caress.

I reached for my towel, wrapping it around myself in a clumsy attempt to shield against the sudden vulnerability of his stare. I tried to focus on drying off, rubbing the soft fabric over my arms and shoulders, but every time I looked up, Oscar’s eyes were still on me—intense, unwavering, and far too distracting.

He leaned casually against the pool’s edge, his wet hair slicked back, the sun catching droplets on his skin that made him look like some kind of Greek statue come to life. But it was his expression that really caught me off guard—his usual playful smirk had softened, replaced by something more thoughtful, almost contemplative. It was like he was seeing me differently, not just the girl who had been splashing and laughing with him all day, but someone who held his attention in a way that felt new and unexpected.

“You alright there?” Oscar asked, his voice low and a little rough around the edges, pulling me out of my tangled thoughts. He didn’t look away, and his eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—curiosity, admiration, maybe even a hint of something deeper.

“Yeah, just… you know, drying off,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed me, coming out breathless and light. I patted my hair with the towel, desperately hoping it would distract from the heat creeping up my neck and cheeks. But his gaze stayed locked on mine, like he was searching for something in my expression that I didn’t even know was there.

Oscar’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You sure? You look a little… flustered,” he said, the teasing back in his tone, but softer, gentler than before. There was a hint of something else in his voice too, something that made my heart skip.

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off even though I could feel my blush deepening under his scrutiny. “I’m not flustered,” I said, but it sounded weak even to my ears. “It’s just… hot out, and the water’s cold, and…” I trailed off, realizing I was babbling.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my struggle to keep my composure. “Sure, blame the weather,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar flirtation that made my pulse quicken. “But for the record, you’re pulling it off pretty well.”

I bit back a smile, unable to meet his eyes directly as I wrapped the towel tighter around me. “Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and oddly exhilarated by his attention. He made it impossible to just shrug things off, to pretend like his lingering gaze didn’t affect me when, in reality, it felt like the most charged thing in the entire backyard.

Oscar pushed off the pool’s edge and stepped closer, his presence warm and solid, droplets of water still glistening on his skin. “You know,” he said, voice low and intimate, “I’ve seen a lot of people get out of pools, but none of them have ever managed to make it look like… this.”

I stared at him, caught between laughter and mortification. “Like what? Wet?” I shot back, trying to diffuse the tension, but it only made him smile more, a lazy, appreciative smile that sent another wave of heat rushing to my face.

“No,” he replied, taking a beat as if considering his next words carefully. “Like you’re the best thing I’ve seen all day.” His voice was quieter now, more earnest, and the sincerity in his eyes made my breath hitch.

The world seemed to tilt just a little, the sounds around us fading into the background as I searched for a response that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete idiot. “You… you’re ridiculous,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice steady. But there was no hiding the way my cheeks were blazing or the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

Oscar just grinned, seemingly pleased with himself as he picked up his own towel and started to dry off, though his eyes kept drifting back to me every few moments. It was like he couldn’t help himself, like something about this silly, sun-soaked afternoon had shifted between us in a way that neither of us fully understood yet.

I tried to play it cool, focusing on the scent of the food that was calling us closer. But it was hard to ignore the electric current in the air, the way Oscar’s eyes lingered on me with an intensity that made me feel seen, maybe even a little wanted. The warmth of his gaze seemed to burn hotter than the sun, like he was committing every detail of me to memory—the way my hair clung damply to my shoulders, the flush of my skin, the shy smiles I kept trying to hide.

I fidgeted with my towel, feeling suddenly self-conscious, but Oscar’s attention never wavered. He stepped closer, his expression still caught between playful and sincere, as if he was searching for something in my reaction that would let him keep pushing the boundaries. His fingers grazed the towel slung over his shoulder as he looked at me, and there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before—a kind of unspoken question hanging between us.

“You don’t have to be so modest, you know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with that familiar edge of teasing that I’d grown so used to. But there was a gentleness there, too, a hint of something more genuine. “It’s okay to let people see how great you are.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift from playful banter to something more personal, something that made my heart stumble. “You’re really laying it on thick today, huh?” I said, trying to laugh it off, but the words came out shakier than I intended.

Oscar shrugged, his smile turning softer, less cocky. “Only because you make it easy,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The way he said it—without hesitation, without the usual bravado—made my pulse quicken, and I had to look away, pretending to adjust my towel just to break the intensity of his stare.

But he wasn’t letting up. As we walked toward the patio, his gaze never strayed far, occasionally dipping down as if he couldn’t help but take in every detail. I could feel the weight of it, warm and steady, and it made my skin tingle in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

We reached the table where the food was spread out—a colorful array of kabobs, salads, and bowls brimming with sides. My mom was fussing over the final touches, sprinkling fresh herbs over a platter of roasted vegetables, while the others were already grabbing plates and chatting animatedly. But I was still caught in the lingering tension of Oscar’s words, the way he’d looked at me like I was something special, something worth noticing.

“Hey,” Oscar said softly, catching my arm just as I reached for a plate. His touch was gentle, a light brush of his fingers that sent another wave of heat rushing through me. “I meant what I said, you know. You really are… something else.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. His eyes were serious, searching mine as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. And for once, I didn’t have a sarcastic comeback or a teasing remark. All I could do was nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks, Oscar.”

His smile widened, this time more genuine than any of the smirks he’d flashed all day. “Anytime,” he said, his voice full of unspoken promises that made my chest tighten.

As I picked up my plate and moved to join the others, I could still feel the weight of his gaze on me, warm and unyielding. It was a look that said everything and nothing all at once, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a poolside flirtation. And as we sat down to eat, surrounded by the familiar hum of conversation and laughter, I couldn’t help but wonder where this unexpected spark between us would lead—or if I was ready to find out.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09

[sheerfreesia007]

Pool Games

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Word count: 2,096

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: It’s all fun and games at the pool with the boys and you but when there’s betting involved Changbin is such a sucker for you. What happens when you come to collect your reward?

Part Two: Heat Rising

The sun is streaming down from the bright clear sky heating the tiled pool deck as Changbin and the rest of the guys all gather around the lounge chairs while talking animatedly and excitedly. Chan had organized a pool day for the group of them to try and cool down in this sweltering heat that they were dealing with. Changbin grinned as he watched Hyunjin ruffle Jeongin’s hair harshly as the younger boy cried out exasperatedly before shoving Hyunjin away from him. Growing impatient with the boys not getting in the pool, Changbin leans down and grabs the football from the large tote bag that Chan had packed for all of them. He stands up straight and looks over at Seungmin who eagerly watches him waiting for him to throw the ball, Changbin nods his head towards the pool and Seungmin takes off doing a cannonball into the pool with Jeongin and Felix following him quickly as they cheer loudly. Just as Changbin was winding back his arm to throw the football to the waiting boys he heard the locker room door open and he frowned softly as his head turned to Chan with slight irritation coursing through him.

“Yah! I thought you said it was a closed pool?” Changbin asked Chan with an annoyed frown on his face. Chan grinned as he looked over to the locker rooms and nodded his head at Changbin.

“It is but I invited someone to join us.” Chan explained and Changbin frowned some more before whipping his head to the person who had entered the pool deck. He watched as you walked out along the tiles while excitedly shedding your extra large baggy t-shirt that looked like one of his old ones that he had been missing for a few months now, when his eyes darted down to your bright neon pink bikini he instantly felt light headed and as if he couldn’t catch his breath.

Your body was beautiful to him as he slowly grazed his eyes up and down it as he watched you move quickly towards them all. Your face was lit up with happiness and excitement to see them all as your shoulders and upper chest were bare to them as your pretty bikini had straps criss crossing across your skin. The top looked almost like one of those sports bras he had seen you wear at the gym when you would join him and it fit your sporty style easily which made him grin. But the bikini bottoms are what caught and held his attention, they molded to your body like a second skin and while they covered everything from his wandering eyes but they made your ass look perkier than your workout pants he’s seen you in. That fact alone made his breath stutter out of his chest in pants as you moved closer to them.

“Changbin Hyung! Ball!” shouted Seungmin momentarily distracting him as he launched the ball into the water without looking at him.

“C’mon Seungminnie, you know you can’t overwhelm Changbin Hyung when he’s focused on something. He malfunctions when he’s given too many things to focus on.” Han teased loudly, causing the boys to laugh.

“More like focused on someone.” Chan agreed with Han and Changbin snapped his eyes to his Hyung who smirked at him before nodding his head at you. Changbin knew that the boys all knew about his crush on you and would often tease him about it but you were always so clueless thankfully and he’d managed to keep his crush under wraps from you. But now with you joining them for their pool day he had a feeling that he’d be fielding more teasing remarks from the guys, he’d be fighting for his life.

“Binnie!” you called out in your sweet happy voice effectively dragging Changbin’s sole focus to you as you waved at him. Growing nervous and desperate to keep you away from the boys, Changbin moved without thought as he watched you drop your t-shirt or rather his stolen shirt onto the closest lounge chair. He dropped his shoulder and effortlessly wrapped his arms around your torso as he tackled you into the open pool as you squealed and cried out in surprise at his move.

Changbin kept his arms around you and your body close to his as you both fell into the water with a large splash. You break through the surface a few moments before Changbin does and you’re waiting for him when he finally does as you splash him aggressively and he laughs loudly at your attempts before he wraps his arms around from behind and pins your arms to your sides.

“Give up Yeobo, I’m too strong for you to fight me.” he teases you as you struggle in his arms.

“What gives Changbin?” you cry out exasperatedly as you turn to look at him over your shoulder. He grins widely at you before the football flies through the air and lands in the water splashing the both of you with water.

“Noona! Be on our team!” calls Han as he, Chan, Hyunjin and Lee Know get into the pool while the younger guys are all swimming quickly over to you and Changbin.

“No way, she’s on my team.” Changbin calls out before slowly releasing his hold on you. You move away from him and Seungmin quickly grabs your hand and drags you over to his side as Han and Chan easily crowded you with smirks on their faces as they stared at Changbin.

“She’s on our team. She’s our only defense against you.” Chan says proudly and you chuckle at his words before giving Seungmin a high five as he laughs at Changbin’s disgruntled look.

“Fine, fine. But I’m coming straight for her.” Changbin says menacingly as he points at you. You grin at him before widening your eyes and raising your hand to your mouth in mock horror while Chan laughs and Changbin rolls his eyes at you.

The game is quickly underway after that and soon Changbin is focusing all of his attention on you as you move through the water to get into a good spot to catch the football from Han. Changbin moves effortlessly through the water while you struggle slightly from being shorter in height, when Han throws the football Changbin easily swats it out of the air away from you causing you to splash him water as you pout at him. His answering smirk earns him another splash making him laugh at your antics.

The next game you’re able to get past Changbin and manage to catch the football from Chan but Changbin grabs you around your middle when you move to swim into his team’s endzone. He lifts you high above his head as you squeal loudly while still holding onto the football. Changbin then begins to lower your body back down into the water but you’re flush against him and as he feels your body slide down his own he can feel his face beginning to heat with desire and embarrassment of having you so close to him. You smirk up at him seeing how flustered he’s become before you toss the football to Han who scores a point for your team. YOur happy cheer at your team’s victory pulls Changbin from his dazed headspace and he smiles softly as he watches you and Han do a wild victory dance.

Another round comes up and Changbin figures out too late in the game that you’re the one designated to score this time as Chan and Han block him from getting to you as you dodge and weave around a confused Hyunjin and an unenthused Lee Know to score a point. You whooped loudly with pride as you jumped in place while Seungmin wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a hug at your score. Changbin frowned as he watched Seungmin hug you tightly before he heard Chan chuckle softly.

“Yah! You wouldn’t have scored that point if Chan and Han hadn’t stopped me from tackling you!” he shouted at you and you grinned at him wickedly as your eyes still sparkled with your win. Changbin feels a prickling in the back of his head at your knowing look as you make your way over to him, Chan and Han, he feels as if he’s suddenly prey to your predatory look and he can’t help but internally shrink away from you.

“Alright Binnie, let’s make a bet.” you challenge him and he scoffs at your bravado. “If I can score another point then you owe a reward.”

“You’ll never score another point on me Yeobo.” he taunts you and you smirk wickedly at him before holding your hand out to him.

“Any reward that I want if I score another point on you.” you challenge and Changbin feels as if he’ll be making a deal with the devil if he shakes your hand but he does so anyway. Your answering grin is blinding to him as you look up at him with eager excited eyes. You then gather your team over to you and begin talking strategy with them and Changbin quickly turns to his team who all stare at him with varying degrees of enthusiasm causing him to sigh softly.

As the last game starts Changbin is slightly nervous, your whole team has looks of determination written across their faces and he knows he’s only half a shot of winning this game since half of his team are interested in playing. He holds himself back and watches as Chan keeps the ball as you, Seungmin and Han all rush Changbin’s team. Jeongin matches up with Seungmin trying to keep him back but Seungmin manages to push Jeongin back just barely while Han faces off with Felix who tries to grab onto Han like a clingy koala to keep him tied up which causes Han to begin laughing manically at Felix’s attempt. And then that leaves you who tries rushing through the water on your legs but when Changbin smirks and tries to grab onto you you dodge him and dip under the water to begin swimming away from him towards the end zone.

When you come up for air he’s waiting for you but you manage to be just a few feet ahead of him and Chan launches the ball into the air. Changbin lunges for you but you’re already jumping into the air catching the ball squarely in your arms before cradling the ball to your chest with a loud war cry that makes Chan, Seungmin and Han all cry out loudly. Changbin grumbles as he watches you do another victory dance but then begins laughing as you horribly try to mimic their dance choreography for Thunderous before you spike the ball into the water and throw your hands up.

You suddenly whirl in your spot and Changbin feels the air in his lungs punch out at the wild happy look in your eyes when you spot him. Swimming up to him you slowly stand to your full height and slide your arms up and around his neck causing him to wrap his hands around your waist to hold you up.

”So you owe me a reward.” You say softly to him and he watches as your eyes crinkle slightly at the edges with delight.

”What reward do you want Yeobo?” He asks just as softly. His mouth drops open in shock as you pucker your lips and point to them, he can feel his whole face flush with desire before he begins to giggle loudly at your action. Leaning forward he moves to peck a quick kiss to your lips but when he goes to pull back your hands are threaded through his hair and hold the sides of his head to keep him still as you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. He grunts surprised but eagerly kisses you back while sliding his arms tightly around your back and holding you close to him. When he feels your legs wrap around his hips he feels as if he’s ten feet tall and as if he could lift a bus right now. You pull away slightly and smile dreamily at him when his mouth moves to chase yours before he speaks up. “That’s a good reward. I think you deserve more of those.” 

Suddenly there’s loud cheers and cooing heard all around you as Seungmin gags loudly causing you to laugh at all of their reactions before Changbin moves in for another long deep kiss.

[artspats]

Late Checkout / Tashi Duncan

The first time they saw each other it was… pretty normal, just the ‘oh... look she also has a daughter’. What a nice coincidence!

Your 7-year-old daughter crossed paths with the daughter of the attractive woman you saw several times by the pool. Both playing in the splash area.

Her daughter had a love for swimming, an athletic spirit. Very cute, she must have gotten it from her mother.

Your little one was more like the sunbathing type, with the heart sunglasses she wore even sleeping, almost imitating you.

You laughed when you saw her, your eyes watching from the edge of the magazine. Smiling before continuing to flip the pages through the news, fashion, sports section... let’s see... tennis?

You were too focused to realize someone had sat in the chair next to you… until your hand reached out to take your lemonade from the table.

It was her.

The pretty woman with short hair.

You smiled slightly at her and lowered the magazine a bit—not because you’ve finished reading, but because her smile is suddenly more interesting than tennis stats.

She was the brave one to bend down and stretch out her hand.

“Hey,” she was prettier up close, Jesus.

“Hi,” you smiled, taking her hand.

“Tashi, Tashi Duncan.”

“Nice to meet you…”

And her hand is warm when you shake it. You can’t help but notice the tiny scar across her knuckle and wonder for half a second how she got it. Probably something cool. You always imagine short-haired women have stories.

“Tashi,” you repeat softly, still holding her hand a second longer than necessary. “I’ve seen you around.”

You introduced yourself before shifting up in your seat. Her eyes were distracted for a second while your magazine left the top of your chest in sight.

Huh.

“I’ve seen you, too.” Her smile is slow, like she’s testing the temperature between you.

Your daughter shrieks with laughter in the splash zone, and her daughter is right there next to her, already mid-cannonball. You both glance over. An unspoken relief: they’re entertaining each other.

“She’s cute,” you say.

Tashi turns back to you. "Thanks. She's got more energy than I know what to do with. Yours?"

You glance over your glasses at your daughter who is now reclined on her towel like a pint-sized diva, sipping from her pink lemonade with a little umbrella. "She's... more into the aesthetic of pool life and summer, you know."

Tashi laughs. "She gets it from her mom?," it lands low and warm, you laugh too.

"What are you implying?" you tilt your head sipping a little of your lemonade with the same smile.

"That swimsuit? Kinda stealing the spotlight. And coming from me, that’s a compliment."

You feel that warm flush creep up again, and this time you don't bother hiding it with your magazine. "This old thing?" you tease.

Tashi leans back in her chair, arms stretched over her head. Her toned stomach glints in the sun, and you pretend not to notice-failing spectacularly.

Her partner was lucky.

"Do you live around here?" she asks.

You nod. "Just moved in. Trying to make this whole suburbia thing work."

"That makes two of us," she says, eyes on the girls now, "We should— get the girls together sometime. They seem to click."

You smile. "Yeah, I'd like that," you pick up your magazine again just to have something to do with your hands.

She notices there's something about the way you hold your magazine–not like you’re reading it, but like you’re keeping a boundary in place. A gentle one that says: Not yet, not here, but maybe.

Tashi likes that.

She shifts in her chair, careful not to seem too obvious when she says, “Lily likes hotels.”

You look over at her, surprised by the non sequitur, but intrigued.

“We’re here for Art,” she explains. “My husband. He’s got a few gallery shows and a regional circuit he’s doing. The hotel 's easier. Less messy than short-term leases. And Lily thinks the hallways are made for racing.”

You smile, already picturing the little girl running barefoot down the corridor.

“How long are you here?” you ask.

Tashi shrugs. “A couple weeks, a month, maybe. Depends how the shows go.”

“We are kind of in the same boat. My husband— he writes a column, but lately he’s very into the real estate content thing, i don’t know. He found this place and decided it’d be his first experiment.”

Your sunglasses slip a little down your nose. Tashi catches a glimpse of your eyes—curious, a little guarded.

“You like it?” she asks.

You shrug. “I like the quiet moments.”

Tashi nods. “Me too.”

She has this calmness to her, even her name gives you comfort. Not smug– just settled in her own skin. The kind of woman who doesn't mind when the pool towel is too short or when the kids draw on walls.

You admire it.

Her laugh is soft and the way her eyes keep traveling down to look at your bathing suit makes your stomach tighten, not in a bad way.

There’s also that strange comfort in the way she says Lily likes hotels. It’s a statement, but also a reveal. It tells you more about her than if she had rattled off five facts about her marriage.

You offer your life in return, casually at first. Your husband’s weird freelance path, the way he refers to this as “content” like it’s a mission, not a career. You’d followed him here, not unhappily, but not exactly inspired or expecting something more than just clean white sheets, chlorine, the fact that your daughter sunbathes like she’s 27.

She's not the woman who brags about how far her husband has come, because it's clear that she also has a great career and her personality makes you think she's good at everything she does.

Tashi listens, she really does. That’s your surprise right there.

Is this what people refer to when they say that good things come when you least expect it?

You both glance at your daughters now, ankle-deep in water, heads close together like they are sharing a secret. Maybe about how maple syrup is better than marmalade for pancakes, maybe about the rules of mermaid society.

And then Tashi says, “I’m glad they found each other.”

You murmur, “Me too.”

Both girls approach their moms, Tashi slides the little robe on Lily’s shoulders, you help Hanna slide her feet on the crocs.

You stand up before you can think of something to say, “See you two around,” you smile at Lily and then look at Tashi.

She stands up too, nodding with a smile. “I suppose that means you take me on that offer I told you about.”

“It does.” You place your sunglasses on top of your head, and that warmth again—stretching across your ribs as Tashi waves at Hanna.

[ct7567329]

Clone Headcanon: The clones regularly race in their blacks and socks sliding down empty hallways.

I had a little ~too much~ fun with this one 🕺

Cody insists he’s just there to supervise, but when the others get a particularly competitive race going, he is "peer pressured" to join in. He’s surprisingly fast, so everyone is suspicious he’s been secretly practicing.

Rex claims he’s “too old for this,” but the others have definitely caught him taking a solo slide late at night when no one’s watching.

Fives always bets on the races. He's always competitive in nature, so he’s usually found trash-talking everyone else while he lines up for a perfect launch.

Echo brings the “fairness” rulebook (which he makes up on the spot), and is always changing the rules mid-race to give himself an advantage.

Hardcase turns it into a slip n slide style race, running as fast as possible before leaping into a superman-style glide. He once ended up crashing into a wall, much to the amusement of the rest of the 501st.

Jesse sets up “lanes” with spare pieces of gear, and if someone knocks them over, they’re disqualified (even though he’s definitely cheated his own rule more than once).

Kix always has the medkit ready, but he joins in the moment he thinks no one’s paying attention. He’ll slide down the hall, then pretend he was just “inspecting the flooring for any hazards."

Tup loves the thrill but gets the giggles halfway down every time, usually ending up in a tangle of limbs and laughter with whoever’s nearby.

Dogma treats it like a precision drill. He times himself and constantly works on his form. The others make fun of his seriousness, but they secretly are jealous of how fast he’s gotten.

Hevy goes all out from the start, sprinting hard and diving into his slides like he’s storming a Separatist base. He’s infamous for knocking over finish markers and sending himself skidding halfway down the hall when he gets a little too excited.

Cutup, being the comedian of the group, is heckling everyone mid-slide and pulling faces as he glides past. His signature move is the exaggerated “slow-motion fall,” complete with fake flailing and dramatic groaning as he crashes out in style.

Droidbait gives it his all but usually ends up crashing into someone (or something) by the end of the slide. Echo and Fives have an unofficial tally board tracking how many times he’s knocked over a crate, a signpost, or even just himself mid-race.

Waxer and Boil bring snacks, setting up a “snack stand” for a quick bite before everyone resumes their races. They’re also the ones who inevitably spill something slippery that makes the whole race even more chaotic.

Wolffe is all gruff disapproval at first, but even he gets swept up in the energy. He prefers short, powerful launches and takes pride in having the best “take-off” technique.

Fox shows up at the end of a race to deliver a serious lecture about “maintaining decorum,” but everyone notices he’s wearing literally 3 pairs of socks.

Gregor turns it into a full-contact sport, cannonballing into the other racers with his signature unhinged laugh, leaving chaos in his wake.

Bly insists on bringing an even more competitive edge to the races, declaring “official tournaments” and even drawing up brackets with matchups. He’s very serious about the honor of being the hallway sliding champion and will absolutely call for rematches if he loses.

Howzer slides with a mix of style and precision, always landing perfectly at the finish with a grin, earning both cheers and groans from his brothers. He’s usually the one trying to keep things (somewhat) under control, shouting things like, “No crashes or the General’s going to kill us!” while still fully participating and crashing regardless.

Fireball brings pure reckless energy to the races, launching himself into dramatic, wild slides that send gear flying. He’s the one who tries to pull stunts mid-slide, like spins or exaggerated poses, and ends up crashing into the finish line every time. This is where him and Hardcase became the best of friends.

Thorn treats the hallway races like a battlefield, sliding in with dramatic flair and shouting “FOR THE REPUBLIC!” at full volume.

[bumpkling]

consider me a house fandom Australian Cultural Liason: here’s some chase family christmas headcanons!

rowan and his mum definitely drag chase and retcon sister along to midnight mass on christmas day. it, as the name suggests, starts at midnight (imagine sitting awake in lousy wooden chairs on CHRISTMAS EVE/DAY as like. an eight year old. catholicism is stupid) and includes receiving communion (the little wafer, and the wine if you’re old enough). there’s a roman catholic communion chant specific to midnight mass for all you latin enjoyers (me): in splendoribus sanctorum, ex utero, ante luciferum, genui te (in the brightness of the saints, from the womb, before the day star, i begot you)

it’s hot and dry this time of year in australia, so spending the whole of christmas day or boxing day at the beach or the pool is common. i imagine chase and his sister competing in made-up competitions — “i bet i can make the water splash taller with a cannonball!” — with their mum as a judge

“classic catches” is a common one: basically, one person throws the cricket ball out across the pool, and the other takes the most spectacular jump/dive they can to try and catch it before landing in the water (there’s a bluey episode about it). we see chase catch pens/case files/miscellaneous objects a few times throughout the show, so i think he’s honed the skill through games like this lol

bundaberg ginger beer is a classic aussie drink for the summer. it’s not alcoholic, and kind of a stronger ginger ale, made in queensland. virtually synonymous with summer. chase feels like an adult holding the heavy glass bottle, sipping it by the pool, trying not to screw up his face at the strong taste

his family have a christmas day lunch with. yes: prawns on the barbecue. but if i catch any of you calling them shrimp i will have harsh words. you’ve been warned

i have no idea whether other places do this, but christmas meals in australia usually feature ‘christmas crackers’ or ‘bonbons’ (there is a bluey episode about these too). they’re paper and kind of shaped like wrapped tootsie rolls, with trinkets, paper crowns, and little joke cards inside the middle. they’re called crackers because you open them by pulling on either side with someone else, tug-of-war style, and when one side breaks, a little fire cracker lights and makes a small explosion with a crack sound. i think chase looooooves the stupid little crowns and wore them all day as a kid.

on boxing day every year, australia hosts a match of test cricket against another international cricket team. cricket is a slow sport (the boxing day test is like five days long), but visit any aussie household with an adult man present, and the boxing day test is absolutely on the tv. it’s one of those things that make most australians patriotic, even if for the rest of the year they couldn’t care less. i don’t think chase was a cricket kid, but he liked watching craig mcdermott’s fast-bowling against india in ‘85. gave him something to talk about with his mates when school started again.

that said, rowan absolutely had tickets to the big game almost every year, either as work gifts or consolation for his wife and kids when he couldn’t (read: didn’t want to) be there during the holiday celebrations. since it’s held at the melbourne cricket ground, chase probably attended a few. they’re gruelling all-day matches, and not exactly entertaining for young kids, but chase probably looks back at the memories fondly: his mum slathering him with zinc and bug spray, constantly yelling at him to keep his hat on, promising to buy him an icecream at half-time

chase seemed pretty aware of his surroundings as a kid, at least in his home. he never failed to catch his mum’s solemn expressions while cleaning up wrapping paper and preparing platters of fruit and cold cuts, while retcon sister played happily with her presents. rowan never labelled his gifts “from Santa”, not even when retcon sister was young enough not to know: their mum always did.

every year, chase was jealous of retcon sister about something. did she get a larger slice of panettone? did she get one more gift from rowan? did she get to be blissfully ignorant on christmas day, swimming and snacking and not having to worry about how many times mum had topped up her white wine, or how heavy her sighs became as the day got hotter? their competition wasn’t always friendly — sometimes he got pissy, and spat cruel insults at her until she ran off to cry in private. neither of them ever told their mother

[rayclubs]

What’s one of your favorite fun facts about medieval battles that sounds like you’re making it up?

Okay so I'm no historian, I just love the swordfighting sport, so this is less "medieval battles were whack" and more "medieval battles as we reenact them today are whack". That said:

It's truly incredible how much of an asshole you're encouraged to be. I punch a motherfucker in the face with a buckler and he doesn't even get mad because it's a regular occurrence.

The most dangerous areas to get hit in - and something that gets you banned from tournaments if you aim there - are the back of the head, the back of the knee, the dick, and the foot. Everything else is fair fucking game. Neck is fine. Head is encouraged.

Fencers keep mixing left and right shin guards, bracers and spaulders, and I can picture the same exact thing happening five hundred years ago. "Sire, thou hast misplaced thy couters! The rondel must face outwards, not inwards!" - "Be quiet, knave! ...'Tis but my personal flare. Now hand me that falchion and begone."

Fencers keep asking each other to buckle and unbuckle their brigandines and honestly rampant homosexuality is but a natural consequence of this. A squire? In this economy?!

An archer once passed by me and showed me a special knife for finishing off the defeated foes lying on the ground. Hasn't talked to me before or since.

Sometimes your helmet will just get yoinked off your head and then you're dead.

Cannonballs don't explode on impact, okay cheers bye

[totromanticfool]

It's you and me this summer

Hcs for the nxx boys going on holiday with you (order: Luk - Marius - Vyn - Artem) maybe a bit ooc? (its been a while) Enjoy!

Luke

If you travel by plane, he will offer his shoulder for you to sleep on. He will wake you for snack time though!

If you travel by car, you will switch with driving, and he will have a full playlist with music to keep you both in vacation spirits.

Cannonballs in the pool every single time, then shakes out his hair like a really cute dog. (a golden retriever prob)

Probably burns easily, you will have to remind him about sunblock.

Makes you join karaoke with him out of the blue.

Will take you to little local places to eat, might get a food poisoning from it, but it will be worth it, to see his beautiful genuine smile.

Marius.

First class travel everywhere. Marius is used to it, so you should, too.

By car, he hires someone to drive, so you can both relax closely together in the back seat

Splashes you with water when you try to ease into the pool.

If you are both in a good mood, he will pick you up and throw you in the pool. Has you piggyback ride him in the pool as well, to keep you close.

Probably has staff around him (and you!) For all your needs. Miss wants a drink? It's there within a second. Some shade? Parasol building on the spot.

But the one thing Marius will do himself is apply your sunblock.

He might write something like ♡Marius on your back, so it will be visible agianst te rest of the colored skin.

Vyn

Traveling by plane? He picked out a few books you both can read, while you can choose the music.

By car? He drives. He wants you to relax as much as possible.

He's it the pool on a big floaty with a cup holder. Has a cocktail in it and maybe paid off a waiter to refill it every time he puts the empty glass in the air. (Fight me for this one! I see him as a diva on vacation, canon in chibi lounge 'member?)

Offers to help put on sunblock just to be able to touch your skin.

If there is a wine trip, you will take it. Vyn will have all the knowledge on it and tells you about it with that sparkle in his eyes.

Artem

Traveling by plane, first class. It is expensive but he wants you to relax to the fullest. Even he will close his eyes for a nap.

By car? He drives. He doesn't want you to worry and relax.

Does laps in the pool early in the morning.

Reminds you every few hours to apply sunblock. If you ask him to help, he will turn red, but do it, with a very serious face.

He will do his research before the trip. Knows all the food spots and cultural trips are already planned (only if you want to)

Will act like your personal butler. He will not relax until you are.

You will have to remind him to sit down and enjoy the view every once in a while. (You're his view, obviously)

If you ask him what he really wants to do, he will tell you he wants to visit that super romantic couples spot. (All the while sporting his signature red ears and cheeks)

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, but i never had the feeling it was 'done' now i know i cant put more in it for now, it was time for me to post it.

until the next drabble!

Love, Hann ❤

[squidsinashirt]

Fifteen, randomly selected, rapid fire questions! 🔥 

Favourite board game?

What was your major in college?

Night owl or morning lark?

What never fails to make you laugh? 

Would you ever sky dive?

Do you have any tattoos?

Cannonball into a pool or dip a toe first?

Do you have your own Netflix account or do you use someone else’s?

Do you know how to perform a magic trick?

Coffee or tea?

How many pull ups can you do in a row?

How many redheads are you friends with?

What type of milk do you put in your cereal?

What’s a cause that’s important to you?

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve received?

Oh boy, here we go 👀

Deep Sea Adventure, or Ticket to Ride.

Double major in Marine Science and Engineering (at Berkeley, go Golden Bears! 🐻). Currently attempting to do a Masters in Oceanography remotely but… well, we’ve got another three years to worry about finishing that.

Morning lark, all those 4.30 swim wake ups set your body clock forever. Doesn’t mean you can’t go back to bed though…

@scramjettracy falling in the pool. 10/10, every time. He’s getting blind in his old age.

Having done it many times (some intentionally, some not), it’s actually quite fun. Don’t tell anyone I said that.

Yep, one. @i-am-the-dawn-aka-eos , play Scotty Doesn’t Know. That’s classified information that two people know about, one being me. Next question.

Cannonball, every single time. Come on, who doesn’t??

That’s what Scott’s account is for (it goes down as a Tracy Industries expense, don’t let him fool you)

So many magic tricks. It’s a solid hobby. Alan and I could do an excellent version of the sawing in half trick, right @thunderbird-3-best-bird ?

Tea, preferably green or peppermint (and yes, before a certain person comments, this counts as tea).

This is a subject of huge debate if you’re ever in a sports team read: hours spent arguing with each other in the swim gym. Proper, clean, elbow extended, pause at the dip, bar to clavicle pull ups with no momentum only? My PB is 32. The stupid ones you see on TikTok with loads of momentum and half dips and whatever? I dunno man, you could probably hang there and swing about all day.

Ha - just one, the one and only @starman-john-tracy 🧡

Oat milk.

Protecting the planet, to nobody’s surprise. Particularly the watery parts of it 🐋 Cleaning up the pollution we’ve left there, protecting the species we’ve endangered, encouraging the flora to return properly. Sorting out the mess we’ve made of things, so that it’s around for our kids to see, and their kids and so on.

Having a soft heart in a tough world, being compassionate, takes courage, not weakness 💛

[nerdierholler]

Olympics question for my darling Ethan ! What summer sports does he enjoy watching? If he competed, which event would be compete in? 💕 hope kitty is healing well, too! (~agentnatesewell)

Thank you for the ask! Skeeter is doing good. So far she doesn’t mind the extended cone time and my vet is working on a dermatologist referral for us as a next step.

I imagine Ethan as being fairly sporty. He played at least one sport in school, but wasn’t the star player or anything. Running was part of training when he was younger and now it’s just an easy way to stay in shape, plus he likes the alone time.

I think he’s interested in watching sports he doesn’t know much about or would never get to try like water polo, fencing, diving, and gymnastics. In theory, never at the olympic level, he could play soccer, go for a long bike ride, freestyle swim in a pool or play basketball but he’s never going to a do anything but a cannonball off a diving board lol

If he competed I think it would be a longer distance run of some sort but not marathon, something on the track. If trail running/cross country was an olympic sport I could see that too but he isn’t a steeplechase person.

This was such a fun ask! Thank you!

[sofarfarout]

Kicks Cannonball is all about skating! Ever since she was a filly, she idolized her father, the extreme sports legend Ollie Impossible, and began imitating him as soon as she could stand on a board. She's a good-natured jock that might look like a shallow meathead on the surface, but she's a patient, humble and kind-hearted pony that's her friends' number one fan. She's always hyping up her friends and loved ones, making sure they know how radical they are. Kicks finds it difficult to tell her friends when they're being...not so radical and tends to go with the flow and try to work around a problem than speak up about it.

[criminalyapping]

senior year | the last pool party - prologue

mean girls (2024) masterlist main masterlist

rated T for language

tw: cancer, use of slurs (d*ke)

“Ugggghhhh,” Janis groans, pulling herself out of Regina’s pool and dramatically flopping onto the warm concrete, “I can’t believe summer is over already! I swear it just started yesterday.”

Responding scoffs and groans echo from the others in attendance. If you had told Janis that she would be spending her last day of summer freedom hanging out and swimming with those that she recently considered her mortal enemies, she would have cackled.

“Janis!” Gretchen screeches, “stop mentioning it! We don’t want to think about it!”

“Seriously, JJ, let us live out the rest of our summer in peace and willful ignorance!” Damian chimes in, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. Cady sits on his shoulders, poised and ready for another chicken fight.

“You guys are trying to silence me.” Janis deadpans, still laying face down on the concrete.

“I don’t know,” Regina finally chimes in, sitting prettily on a lounge chair, the only one not in the pool. “I’m kind of excited.”

“Because you finally get to play a sport, right Gina?” Karen asks, head barely peeking out from the water, and struggling to keep Gretchen balanced on her shoulders.

“Yes, Karen, I’m excited for softball tryouts,” Regina agrees. Karen is the easiest person to be nice to. Because that’s her new thing now. Being nice. It kind of sucks. “But I’m also excited to be able to finally chill the fuck out a little bit. My therapist says I have control issues so I’m working on it.” she finishes.

Cady scoffs, “I don’t think you needed a therapist to tell you that, Regina.” she giggles, her friends all joining in. Regina pulls an exaggerated shocked face, sitting up from her reclined position.

“You guys all suck.” She pouts.

“Regina has been doing great this summer, she has only told me to shut up like 12 times!” Gretchen encourages, looking around at the group.

“Yes, Regina is working on herself and slowly pulling the stick out of her ass.” Janis agrees.

Regina nods proudly. “I just hope my back agrees with my new athletic plan.” She says quietly.

“Didn’t you say it’s been getting better?” Cady asks.

“It’s better yeah, but I still got hit by a fucking bus a few months ago.” She snaps. Cady looks down, still feeling guilty about the whole bus thing.

“Oh buzz off Cady, you know it wasn’t your fault.” Regina comments.

“I knowwww,” she whines, “you’ve told me a million times, G, but I can’t help it!”

“If you let me beat you in a chicken fight will you feel better?” asks Regina.

“Ahh! Are you finally getting in?” exclaims Karen.

Regina stands up, throwing her friends a big grin as she throws her head back laughing.

“Yes,” she giggles, before cannonballing into the pool, splashing the group with a wave of warm pool water.