#do you know what it's like to think every laugh in the building is making fun of you? hallucinating your name in strangers conversations?

[astrow1zar6]

Big Slay placements pt 2

Mars in the 1st house (on men): these dudes are HOTTT. They give manly man vibes, the “I’ll jump in a burning building for you” vibes. These guys have big sex appeal and are usually walking red flags (but people dig that lowkey). They are usually very confident and aren’t scared to make the first move. If they want you they will have you (even if it’s only for the short term). These people however can be very cocky & sex obsessed if not careful. This placement is also hot in women but I notice in women this placement has a tendency to crash out a lot or start arguments a lot. I’ve also seen they can come off too strong (for a woman according to society) creates more of a Tomboy vibe/masc vibe in chics they aren’t traditionally “feminine”. (But I still think these people are soooo sexy regardless of gender) girls with this placement give Revvy from black lagoon. Ifkyk 😏 their self assured/ warrior like essence can intimidate weaker men a lot & many men can try to control their fire… (good luck lol).

Jupiter in the 1st house/ on the ascendant (positive aspects): these people are just overall a pretty good vibe. They can make even the gloomiest of mfs laugh I swear. These are the best people to have around during holidays or parties they really know how to spread good vibes around. I notice they have really good social graces & are really good at social cues which is why so many people want to be their friend. It almost looks like nothing can get to these people.. they can be hit with so much bs but still be able to keep a smile on their face. Very generous with their time and resources as well. If they love you best believe they will do anything for you. Usually attracts good luck in their lives because of their happy go lucky attitude. Others can feel more lucky being around them as well. Tend to have very attractive healthy bodies.

Leo degrees on the ascendant (5,17,29): every person I’ve met with this degree on their ascendant are super pretty & have so much appeal. Their presence is just so loud (even if their rising sign is more lowkey like Scorpio or Capricorn) the minute they enter a room people stop and stare. I feel like the 5th degree is more of a beauty degree and the 17th & 29th are more charismatic star born presence. (Regardless tho still all bad b*tch placements). These people just give AURA. You also have a higher chance of becoming famous if you have any of these degrees (not just on the ascendant).

Having a sign in their home planet (ex; sun in Leo, moon in cancer, Venus in Libra/taurus ect..) having planets that are in their home sign can make themes around that planet flow easier in your life. For example if you have a mars in Aries you might find it easier to be active & chase after what you want compared to other mars signs, you can have a surplus of energy and can handle challenges thrown at you with a lot more ease than lets say someone with a mars in Pisces or cancer.

Aries sun: shocker right… but the sun in exalted in Aries so it’s able to express itself in full throttle. Aries suns I notice tend to have a really strong sense of self & no one can shame them. I notice a lot have the ability to do what others would seem as “embarrassing “ and not give a flying fuck. This is such a freeing placement when mature. These people are the definition of idgaf and I adore it. If they get those anger issues under control they can be big power houses.

Venus in the 10th house: a lot of really famous people have this placement. Most celebrities or big business people have this. Gives this worldwide beauty that’s everyone adores. Can have a very big “fan group” even if they aren’t famous. Whatever comes out of these people’s mouths others see it as the gospel. (They can have a huge impact on the public). People can become obsessed with them easily. For example Billie Eilish & Donald trump have this placement… look at their fan base 👀 can leave a very iconic/legendary imprint on the world & many will remember them. They have a tendency to pick their career & public image over loved ones and relationships if not careful. Usually find love once they are settled in their career.

Lilith conjunct ascendant: oh the power these people possess is off the charts (especially for women) if you have this in your chart you are probably used to others trying to dull ur shine down because your aura is so strong! I’ve seen people with this placement get shamed a lot by others (mostly women) because they aren’t ashamed about what most women are taught to be ashamed about. So it’s almost like a mission for others to bring them down to their level. That’s how powerful you guys are!😳 men and women will try to control you cuz others can see your potential usually well before you see your own. Once these people step into their confidence however it’s really over for everyone. They have the potential to be beautiful & powerful. I think of Daenerys Targaryen when I think of this placement.

Pluto/venus: fucking with these people will feel like they did voodoo on you.. but fr tho it is very easy to become addicted/obsessed with these people’s energy. They have the ability to put a trance over people that can lead you to acting crazy over them. (This is especially true with hard aspects CONJUNCTION, opposition, SQUARE). These people hold the power to truly break ur heart. They can use their bodies & sex appeal to get you hooked (most are very good at the act if uk what I mean😏) can use a lot of mind games and manipulative tactics to keep you interested in them if they feel ur attention is drifting anything to get you attached and them in control they will use😳 the square placement can especially be bad with this. Gives a dangerous hotness like you know they are a huge red flag but you can’t resist. With easier aspects (sextile,trine, quintile) they aren’t into mind games as much and value genuine deep connections.

Mars/venus soft aspect (trine,sextile, quintile): usually super charming & have a really healthy libido & self esteem. They are big flirts & are usually amazing with their timing in terms of seduction. They know to give just enough without being overbearing or too detached which can get their object of desire hooked in a healthy way. These people are also super easygoing and have no problem admitting when they messed up (which only adds to their charm even more). Usually physically really fit/attractive. I didn’t add the harder aspects (conjunction, square, opp) mostly because although they can be extremely charming & have great sex appeal I notice their seduction techniques can be a little overbearing? They can come off as way to strong sometimes and scare off their object of desire (especially in the conjunction & square). They can be more selfish & get really aggressive when they don’t get what they want. They can struggle with getting bored in relationships easier than those with these in a softer aspect (trines & sextiles can keep healthier relationships). Harder aspects can become very forceful with their affection if denied. Especially in the SQUARE/opposition.

Jupiter in the 2nd house: most millionaires/billionaires I see have this placement. I notice they could’ve also been raised with money which gave them a push in life compared to others. I’ve also seen people who came from poverty with this and became super successful. This is a huge entrepreneur placement. Business comes very naturally to these people & are usually money driven from a very young age. They usually have a talent that gets them a lot of money in their life. Can have a big fear of losing money however and being in poverty.

Sun/venus: these people are usually pretty likeable. I notice these people have the ability to mold into whatever crowd they are involved with which usually wins them a lot of admirers. They can either come off as super charismatic or super phony but regardless people still eat them up. They try hard to be agreeable and tell people what they want to hear to boost their egos. So regardless if it comes off a little fake they know how to make others feel really good. This can be a big fame placement as well since a lot of celebrities have this. A lot dreamed of being really well known or popular from a very young age.

MC in aspect to Venus (conjunct or trine): these are usually considered the prettiest people in the workplace. Could get a long well with coworkers & many people can have crushes on them. I’ve seen these people get huge tips at work for just looking good. Has more of an opportunity to get hired or promoted because of beauty. They are that coworker that makes more than you and barely does any work😭😂 being so pretty and likeable people tend to give them more leeway than with others.

Mars in 8th house: this gives witch girl vibes. Similar to Pluto/venus people can become very obsessed with them. They tend to have a lot of stalkers or exes that still hit them up after years. These people are SUPER magnetic & their sex is very addictive. It can be extremely hard to move on from these people. I’ve seen people with this get hexed from spiteful lovers or have love spells be put on them, I’ve seen people break into their house (mostly exes or sneaky links). Be careful when dealing with someone with this placement it’s very hard to let go of them once you’re hooked.

Beauty asteroids on the ascendant (Apollo, Aphrodite, Eros, Cupido, Casanova) the people I’ve seen with any of these aspects look like they’ve been carved by the gods. They are so beautiful to look at. Apollo gives a similar vibe to having a Leo rising but gives a more glowy and godlike effect, people can easily become in awe of the individuals & see them as really cool. Aphrodite on the ascendant is kinda a no brainer gives an otherworldly like beauty a lot of famous models have this placement. Cupido & Eros on the ascendant give a more flirty typa vibe and enjoy games of seduction. They are able to seduce anyone with just a look in their eyes, their eyes are their weapon to pulling.. I kid you not how they look at you will make your knees go weak they flirt thru their eyes. Casanova on the ascendant is the king/queens of sweet talking.. they can talk their way out of anything & talk their way into your pants quick😩 they give a sorta bad boy/girl vibe but it’s so hard to say no to them they are so darn charming!

Sorry it took so long to make a part two been working a lot lately😩

[moonreader1010]

♥ 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 ♥ - - - - - - - (18+)

𝓟𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓐 𝓟𝓘𝓛𝓔 - ・❥・: ̗̀➛

︵‿︵‿୨♡ Ｒｅａｄｉｎｇ ｂｙ － ＭＡＥ ♡୧‿︵‿︵

(PLEASE DO CHECK OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE READING)

PILE 1

Pile 1 – The Seduction of the Unknown

(4 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, 8 of Swords, Page of Wands)

Let me tell you, love, this person is obsessed with the way you hold back. There’s something about the tension in you—the way you don’t give it all away—that drives them absolutely insane. To them, it’s like peeling away the wrapping of a gift they’ve been dying to get their hands on.

They imagine moments where you’re standing close, just far enough that they can’t touch you without leaning in. They crave the taste of your hesitation, the way your body might tense under their touch, only to slowly relax as they guide you into surrender. They fantasize about the contrast of your guarded energy and the fire you hide beneath it.

In their mind, you’re an intoxicating challenge. They picture teasing you, running their hands down your sides, stopping just short of where you want them most, whispering against your skin about how good it’ll feel when you let them have their way with you. They want to be the one who breaks down every barrier, one slow, sensual touch at a time, until you’re theirs completely—breathless, aching, and begging for more.

What keeps them coming back? It’s the way you make them work for it, and oh, how they love the chase. PILE 2

Pile 2 – The Lover’s Playground

(The Fool, 7 of Cups, 4 of Swords, The Lovers)

love, this person dreams about you like you’re their favorite fantasy, the one they can’t stop replaying over and over. You’ve got this energy that’s playful and free, yet sensual enough to make their pulse race. They’re hooked on the way you keep things unpredictable—like they never know if they’re about to laugh with you or lose themselves completely in the heat of the moment.

They imagine soft, teasing touches that turn into something deeper. They think about pulling you into their lap, hands exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and need, while they whisper in your ear just how badly they want you. To them, you’re like a dream come true—your presence alone makes them feel alive, but it’s the way you tease and tempt that has them craving more.

They picture the two of you locked away in your own little world, where every kiss, every moan, every whispered word is just for them. They love the way you can be sweet one moment and a total vixen the next, keeping them on their toes in the best way. They want to take their time with you, letting the tension build until neither of you can hold back any longer.

What keeps them coming back? It’s your ability to make every moment feel like a sexy, thrilling adventure they’ll never get enough of.

PILE 3

Pile 3 – The Heat of Power and Passion

(Queen of Wands, King of Swords, King of Pentacles, Strength)

love, this one is spicy. This person is completely captivated by your confidence, your fire, and the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you bring to the table. You’re their fantasy in human form—strong, magnetic, and irresistible.

They’re hooked on the way you challenge them. They imagine moments where the heat between you is so intense, it feels like a power struggle—your nails digging into their shoulders as they press you against the wall, their lips trailing down your neck, leaving you breathless and craving more. They love that you’re not someone who gives in easily; you make them earn it, and that drives them wild.

In their fantasies, they see you beneath them, your body arching into theirs as they take their time exploring every inch of you. They’re obsessed with the way your strength and vulnerability blend so perfectly—how you can be fiery and demanding one moment, only to melt under their touch the next.

This person wants to dominate the moment, to feel your body respond to theirs in ways that leave you both trembling. But it’s not just about control—it’s about the connection, the way your energy matches theirs, creating a fire that can’t be contained.

What keeps them coming back? It’s your ability to make them feel like they’re losing control while still giving them everything they’ve ever wanted. You’re their addiction, their obsession, and they’ll never stop craving the heat only you can bring. Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ

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This is a general reading take what resonates and leave the rest.

All credit of the pictures goes to thier rightfull owners.

Sending lots of love to whoever is reading this, take care.

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLEMAN | matt sturniolo

loser!matt x partygirl!reader

matt gets dragged to a party, when he meets the "party queen" who definitely doesn't find him terribly boring like he thought she would, which she makes sure he understands.

requested by @mattsobvimyfav . divider credits. @anitalenia

— warnings; smutty smut, sub!matt, soft!dom!reader, making out, blowjob, riding, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, whiny matt (hot alert), pet names (pretty/good boy, baby, sweetheart...) cursing, praise kink lowkey, mentions of weed, cigs and alcohol, — english isn't my first language.

women like you were out of the league for guys like matt. you were a typical popular girl, partying every week and not like normal people did. you were the queen of the dance floor. party queen, that's how people called you. everyone with eyes and a brain admired the graceful way you carried yourself around. never missing parties, always staying until the very end, usually your friends had to carry you out of the building due to the excess alcohol in your blood and inability to stand on your own feet. when you were telling a joke, everyone laughed. when you were taking shots, so did others, that's how convincing you were.

you could have any guy you wanted, but no one was perfect for your standards. you were admired by girls who wanted to be like you and guys who wanted you.

matt was one of those people. he admired you.

he didn't know you well as a person who kept away from people. he was an observer type, only talked to his closest friends, of whom he had few. maybe even a little shy, that's what people called him, but really when he felt comfortable? he could be so interesting.

he had never talked to you before, only ever heard about you or knew what he had noticed. matt wasn't the party type, usually was practically dragged out of the comfort of his room. he didn't like looking for adventures. and today? some girl that his brothers were friends with, and that matt knew by sight, had a birthday and of course chris and nick once again dragged him out of the house for the party, ignoring his complaints. so that's how he found himself in this house full of rich, drunk kids, loud music blasting in his ears, every now and then someone would trip over his legs, causing him to roll his eyes. he sat half the party on the couch in the corner of the main room, arms crossed and beer in hand. he really wanted to go home, but his brothers would kill him if he didn't last until midnight. half an hour left.

unable to bear it any longer, he finally goes outside where the music was a little muffled, giving him the feeling of getting to breathe again. maybe that was the case. being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. he lights a cigarette, which was his little addiction but helped him relax, and leans against the wall, praying that the minutes go by faster.

he started getting more and more relaxed, finally at peace, tilting his head back and blowing out clouds of smoke until he heard giggles. his eyes immediately opening, noticing you and your two friends coming out from behind the building and walking crookedly towards him, you searching for something in your purse. he would recognize the party queen everywhere.

"... i can't find it!! i swear i had it!!" you laugh, giving up with whatever you wanted to find, your purse slips off your shoulder just by the front door of the house, right next to where matt was standing. he automatically bends down and hands it to you, drawing the attention of you and your friends to him, which makes his heart beat faster. "oh helloooo, thank you," a smile appears on your face, that brings a slight warmth to his cheeks.

"yeah, no problem," he tries to keep it cool, scratching the back of his neck nervously. you look at your friends, gasping playfully, "ohhh, maybe this gentleman will have a lighter—" your gaze goes back to his blue eyes that were now wide. "do you have a lighter??? i think i lost mine!"

"a what— oh—" he snaps out of his trance, staring too hard at you which makes him blush even more. you were so beautiful. he clears his throat, "yeah, uh, i have one..." he hands it to you, your friends giggling at his nervousness, while you thought he's being really cute. "here you go."

"you're a life saveeeerrrrr," you're about to start searching for the cigarettes but he's quick to pass his own pack to you. "oh god, you're like an angel," your grin widens as you take a cigarette from him, putting it between your lips and lighting it up.

"girlll, my song is playing! can you hurry up?" your friend complains, causing you to roll your eyes.

"just go, i'll come in a minute."

"you sure?"

"yeah, go," you repeat yourself and stand next to matt who was leaning against the wall against, his heart pounding in his chest. he could feel your perfume mixed with... weed, perhaps? you give him the lighter and cigarettes back with a simple 'thank you'.

you both stand next to each other in silence that was starting to weigh on him, but he wasn't able to speak first. you both smoke your cigarettes when you finally look at him again. dressed all in black, a beer in one hand, on which you notice tattoos. oh, he's handsome as fuck.

"so" you speak up, getting his attention. "does this gentleman have a name?"

he smiles shyly, overwhelmed by your beauty. "i'm matt."

"matt," you repeat, tasting his name on your tongue. "i like it. suits you."

the way you repeat his name makes him feel both uncomfortable and strangely excited at the same time. he rubs the back of his neck nervously again, blowing out the smoke, just as you say your name too. he gives you a glance, "i know."

"oh, do you?" a smirk appears on your lips as you take another drag. he replies hesitantly, "well, i mean... who doesn't?"

you nod confidently, "right." your eyes travel to his tattooed arm again, feeling your stomach twisting in knots at the sight. he catches it and looks down at his arm as well. "i like them. make you look hotter," you confess.

he blinks, caught of guard by your words. he wasn't really used to people, especially not girls like you, saying things like that to him. mostly because he barely was leaving his house. he feels his heart race, a warmth spreading through his chest. "thanks."

"of course," you respond casually, checking him out once again before looking away with a small smile and taking another drag of the cigarette. you were slightly high, not really that drunk yet and you knew what you were doing. his awkwardness was so cute, there was no way you'd let this man go so quickly tonight. you actually felt like you need to have him.

matt finishes his beer in one swing, putting the empty bottle aside, causing your attention to get back to him.

the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of someone, but there was no way you talked or even seen matt before. though, you decide to ask, "wait, don't i know you already?"

he raises his eyebrow, locking eyes with you. "me? i don't think so." i would definitely want you to, he thinks.

"oh, 'cause i feel like i do. or maybe you just remind me of someone—"

"i'm a triplet. you probably know my brothers."

"ohhh, wait—" you snap your fingers, trying to remember. "yeah, chris and— and nick? oh, now i know. never seen you before though. lowkey thought they're bullshitting about being triplets."

matt smiles amused, taking one last drag and throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, trampling it with his shoe. "yeah, m'not really out going."

"i see," you nod, smiling back. "i'd definitely remember you."

he chuckles softly, feeling his face warm at your words again. damn, get your shit together matthew. "really, huh?"

"yeah. with this looks and that—?" you point at his tattoos. "i promise, i would remember."

you didn't feel like beating around the bush, you liked him. he was extremely handsome, his hair looked so soft you wanted to run your hand through it, his eyes made you weak in your knees and his lips begged to be kissed. not to mention the aura he had around him, he intrigued you. matt was different than the rest of those assholes you met at parties.

he looks away shyly, the smile on his face makes your heart flutter. literal butterflies — something you've never had before.

you finish the cigarette in a comfortable silence, getting slightly overwhelmed after the weed you smoked before. leaning against the wall, your shoulder brushes against his, drawing his attention back to you.

"you good?"

"mhm, it's that cigarette, give me a second."

he nods, watching as you throw the rest of it aside. "okay. jus' don't go passing out on me."

"hey, i'm not that drunk i can even stand on my hands if you want. look—" you're literally bending over in front of him, hands on the ground, and you're ready to do it, but he quickly grabs your waist, forcing you to straighten up. matt tried his hardest not to look at your ass and the way your short dress rode up. his pants suddenly start to grow tighter but he ignores it.

"you better not—"

with a giggle, you turn around to face him, the feelings of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. "i could easily do that."

"sure," he raises his eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks only growing because of the closeness. "i don't think i'd know what to do with a drunk and unconscious party queen on my hands, if you did that."

"right, okay." you bite down on your bottom plump lip, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "but what would you do with a slighty tipsy and definitely conscious party queen on your hands, hm?"

his eyes sparkle with amusement, heart rate subtly increasing at your promixity. "well, that's a pretty open-ended question," he replies, his voice low and gentle. "depends on the party queen personality and how she's feeling."

oh, he's funny.

"and if the party queen is feeling perfectly fine and have the best personality ever?"

the air between you two suddenly feeling charged with an unexpected, but pleasant tension. matt could feel himself getting more and more worked up. he tried to be the gentleman that handed you the purse a few minutes ago, or gave you a cigarette and a lighter, but it was getting hard. especially now, when he realizes his hands are still on your waist and you don't seem to mind at all.

"oh, in that case i'd probably just try to keep up 'n hope her great personality doesn't find me too terribly boring."

"nah, i think she finds you pretty intriguing actually." you tilt your head to the side, eyes dropping to his lips before moving back up. oh, those lips.... "and if she wanted to show you just how bad?"

he swallows hard, "you mean, hypothetically... if she wanted to show me she's interested?"

"mhm, yeah. exactly what i mean," you lean in, giving him time to push you away, but he doesn't. oh, he would never. he wanted you so bad, knowing he's just one of hundreds of your simps, but it was the last thing on his mind right now. all he wanted is to feel your lips on his.

and he finally did.

closing the gap between you two, you kiss him softly, what he does too after a moment. his initial hesitation melting into reciprocation as your lips move against his. his hands, unsure at first, eventually move down to your hips, pulling you gently closer. your fingers tangling into his messy, soft hair, pushing him slightly against the wall, getting a hum in approval. matt starts relaxing against you, letting you set the pace and tone for your interaction. as you take your time, he finds himself growing more comfortable and excited. he would never think it would happen. with you out of all people.

the kiss starts getting more and more heated, you grow slightly impatient, feeling the ache between your legs starting to grow. you press your body closer to him, hand traveling up and down his chest, your tongues dancing together. once he feels how gently you bite his lip, a small whine leaves him, your mind spins and definitely not because of the amount of alcohol or weed you've consumed.

you break the kiss, both of you panting as you mutter against his lips, "come with me, yeah?" getting a weak nod in response, you're fast to make your way back into the crowded house, dragging matt behind you by his wrist.

his palms start to sweat as you take him upstairs and reach some empty room, pushing him inside. the noise of the party fading behind you two once you kick the door shut and attack his lips again.

matt is overwhelmed but in the best way possible. his senses are filled with your sweet scent, the tension growing in his pants with each second. his eagerness showing in his tentative exploration, but offset by an earnest enthusiasm. he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, surrendering to your lead. he hits the bed and falls onto the mattress, you climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. he gasps softly as your weight presses down on him in the most distracting and exhilarating way. his hands instinctively find their way to your hips again, gripping slightly as he tries to adjust to this new position.

breaking the kiss, you start trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, his head tilts back unconsciously, giving you better access to his skin. his whole body shivers at the delicate touches of your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, sucking on it to intentionally mark him.

his reaction brings a smile to your face and you look up to see him in such a cute state. messy hair, cheeks reddish, his pink lips swollen from the make out as he lets out heavy breaths.

"look at you, pretty boy."

his eyelids flutter open, revealing pupils dilated with desire. matt touches the mark on his neck lightly, fingers tracing where you'd sucked. "that's..." he clears his throat, feeling his face flush even more. the way you look at him is both intimidating and incredibly hot.

"hm? you like it?"

"y-yeah, that's really... good," he admits.

you just couldn't help yourself, he was so majestic, really. the way he was clearly trying not to rush or throw himself at you, makes you want to give him all the pleasure in the world so he wouldn't be able to forget about this evening, no matter how hard he'd try.

"want more?"

his eyes darken slightly, voice hoarse with lust, "that wouldn't be really... gentleman of me, hm?"

you smile, finding him amusing. "oh, but i'm proposing this to you, not the other way around. so...?" you whisper against his lips, "how it's gonna be, baby?"

this time he captures your lips in a kiss, wanting to show you how much he wants— no, craves you, hoping this is enough of a response.

a wave of heat washes over you, hands traveling under his shirt which steals another whine from matt. you had never been so turned on before in such a short amount of time, automatically starting to move your hips and grind down against him, feeling how hard he was beneath you. pride overwhelms you at the feeling of how much he's affected by you, the want for him even bigger than before.

his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. he can feel you moving on his lap, the friction driving him crazy. your tongue explores his mouth, lips clicking against his. his hands shaky on your body from the desire he felt. "you can touch me, matt..." you pant against his plump lips, pressing your clothed, soaked core against his dick harder.

"y'feel so good..." his eyes are glassy with lust as he looks up at you. his chest is heaving, and he bites his lip, trying to compose himself when he finally allows his hands to explore your body.

"mhm, i can feel how bad you want me," you keep grinding against him, the friction causing you both to whimper. "is really cute.... and hot— you know?"

"please—" his eyes flutter shut from pleasure, your hands teasing him just above the waistband of his jeans. "what is it, baby?" you bite back a smile at his desperate expression.

"just... i need you please— can you..." his breath is coming in ragged gasps now, and he feels both embarrassed and completely exhilarated. his hips rise slightly to meet yours, a natural response to the overwhelming sensation. his body aches for more contact, more friction, more of you.

"can i what? c'mon, you gotta ask nicely if you want something." you're teasing, torturing him purposely, enjoying how adorable he gets when his shyness takes over. "look at me, matt."

blushing intensely, he opens his eyes and stammers out, "can you... i mean, would you... with your mouth?" he immediately looks mortified at his own boldness, his cheeks flaming red as he quickly adds, "sorry, i didn't mean to presume—"

"i think you did mean it though," you smile softly, licking your lips. his words and the image that just popped up in your head makes your pussy pulse. "how can i say no when you're being such a good boy for me?" you press kisses to his neck just as he whines again, your hands already working on his belt. his eyes watching as his jeans and boxers get pushed down his legs. he gasps as the cool air hits his exposed lower half, his body trembling slightly. his dick twitches as you kneel on the mattress between his legs, looking at him in awe. "just relax."

he nods quickly, trying to calm himself. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands fumble anxiously with the hem of his shirt unsure what to do with them. is not like he was inexperienced, he was in a relationship before, but having you, the popular party girl that everyone wanted, between his legs was definitely making him more nervous than he would usually be.

you put your hair up into a messy ponytail, his body immediately tensing up. he can feel the blood rushing to his cock, making it throb with anticipation. he tries to relax his legs, spreading them wider to give you better access. you stop just above his tip, looking up at him with a smile at the messy state he was already in, even if you didn't start yet. "gonna say a magic word?"

he swallows hard, his blush deepens, "please."

his eyes dart between your face and his hard, leaking with precum dick, hardly believing this is really happening. but it feels real, when you give him a kitty lick before starting to suck on his tip. a strangled moan escapes matt's lips, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards. the sensation is electric, his hands fist in the sheets beneath him, grasping desperately for some form of anchor. "o-oh, fuck—"

your tongue is swirling around his tip teasingly, before you take him deeper, his eyes roll back in his head, breath catching in his throat. he can feel every ridge and curve of your mouth, the wet heat almost more than he can bear. a shaky whimper escapes him, hands slide up to tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he fights the urge to buck his hips forward.

he was so big, the choking sounds echoing in the room, saliva dripping down your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you start bobbing your head up and down, nose brushing against his pelvis. "s-shit.... feels so good— mmmm, fu—ckkk--" his entire body shudders, he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, completely captivated by the sight. the sounds alone are enough to make him dizzy with desire. his breathing becomes more ragged, mingling with the wet sounds of your mouth. "oh god..." he whimpers. you're breathing through your nose, focusing on his tip again, your hand working on the rest of him. the sensation combined with your mouth is incredible, almost too much to process. matt bites his lip hard, suppressing a loud moan, but it still escapes as more of a choked groan. "fuck, please—"

he was completely out of it, a big whining mess, his hips uncontrollably lifting upwards, his tip hitting the back of your throat. his toes curl as he feels the mounting pressure, his entire body tingling with exquisite tension while you suck on his dick like on a lollipop, being all messy with it, gagging every now and then. panting heavily, he tugs gently at your hair, "w-wait, m'gonna.... m'so close, wait—" you hum in approval, wanting to taste him on your tongue. it sends vibrations through him, another whimper escaping him. you speed up your movements, matt automatically starts thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm approaches, "f-fuck, sorry, i.... i can't— shittt, gonna cum— can i... oh—"

he's lost at this point, his head threw back, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as you resume your actions. his hips lift off the bed, pressing himself deeper into your mouth, getting another moan from you. the sight was hypnotizing, his flushed features, the way he tried to muffle his moans by chewing on his bottom lip. you were dripping, clenching around nothing just from watching him.

with a choked cry, his entire body convulses as he finds his release, pulse after pulse of ecstasy flooding through him. his fingers fist so tightly in your hair that he's vaguely aware it might hurt, but he can't seem to loosen his grip. you whimper around him, tasting him on your tongue and swallowing everything. your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip one more time before pulling out with a wet pop. his vision blurs, heart pounding in his chest. he lets go off your hair, your eyes meeting his, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. damn.

his face flushed with heat as he smiles, "holy fuck."

"holy fuck indeed," you lick your lips, the sight so intimate and erotic for him that he feels his spent dick twitch in response. "that was, like, amazing—" he mutters, still struggling to find his voice.

you chuckle, moving so now you were on top of him again, hands on each side of his head. "what a shame that we met so late," you say, running your hand through his hair, a shiver going down his spine.

"i was supposed to leave at midnight," he admits. your eyebrow raises, "oh really?" he nods, "yeah, not a fan of parties."

"well... i'm glad you didn't have the chance to leave then."

"me too." he pulls you into another desperate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, getting a hum in surprise. he was clearly eager for more. your fast to roll your dress up around your waist, grabbing his hand and directing it between your legs. when he feels how soaked your panties were, he can't help but whimper again. "feel it, baby?" you break the kiss, looking at him, his eyes darken with lust. "that's allll because of you."

his gaze travels over your body, taking in the curves he's only ever imagined. he swallows hard, his voice hoarse with need. "please, i need you..."

"you're so cute when you beg," you smile biting down on your plump lip. removing your underwear, you position yourself just above his tip, letting him feel the wet warmth, teasing him mercilessly. matt whines softly, his body tensing with the need to thrust into you and finally feel you. "what was that, hm? tell me what you want, matt."

"need you... to ride me— please—"

"need me, hm? and how bad?"

he whines again, louder this time, his hips bucking slightly in an attempt to get him inside you. "so bad," he pants, his voice barely recognizable in his desperation. "please, please, please..." he chants, his voice cracking with need.

"gooood boy," you praise, his words getting you even wetter. wrapping your hand around his cock, you give him a few strokes before slowly sinking down on him. "begging so pretty— f-fuck...." the sudden feeling of your warm, tight pussy enveloping his aching dick is almost too much for matt to handle. he throws his head back, a loud, wordless whimper tearing from his throat as he's sheathed inside you, a moan leaving your lips as well at his reaction. "shit, you're so big—" you stay still to adjust, lifting your dress higher to be more comfortable. you feel his dick twitching inside you after your words. amused written all over your face when you look at him, "you like it, hm? who would've know you're so naughty...."

matt's hands tremble as they grip your hips, trying desperately to hold back the urge to grind into you. his breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he savors the exquisite tightness gripping him.

"feels good?" you slowly start moving, he nods his head weakly, words caught in his throat as he tries to speak around the lump formed by his swallowed moan. "mmm, holy shit, matt—" his cock is buried so deeply inside you that it makes you see stars for a moment. you crave more of him, so you start speeding up the pace.

"so... good..." he manages to rasp out, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping forward to lock onto yours again. "you're...too much..."

"yeah? want me to stop?" you mock him a little bit, knowing that's the last thing he wants.

he shakes his head frantically, a sheepish grin spreading across his flushed face. "no, no...don't stop. i meant...fuck, you're just so tight— fuckkk, feels incredible." he bucks his hips slightly, emphasizing his enthusiasm, his nails dig into your hips, his body tensing as he tries to pull you down further onto him.

"you're doing perfect for me, baby—" you moan out, putting one hand on his chest as you start moving your hips harder, your attention drawn to his tattoos. the sight of his arm causes you to painfully clench around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. he hisses at the feeling, it drives him wild. "shit, just like that—"

you both aren't able to hold back your moans, letting them spill out one after another. each thrust pushes you both into ecstasy, your hand on his chest the only thing anchoring him to reality. matt's hands slide up your sides, then down to your thighs, marveling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

matt notices the way your eyes are locked onto his tattoos and it makes his dick throb even harder inside you. "god, matt— mmhpp, oh my...." you lean forward, needing some balance as your legs start growing tired, your hands on each side of his head. he reaches up to your waist, guiding your movements as he lifts his hips to meet each thrust. "f-fuck— you're so beautiful..."

your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel it as well, which pushes him over the edge too. "gonna cum for me, pretty boy?" you choke out, looking down at him through half-open eyes.

"mhmm, fuck—" he pants, his own face contorted with pleasure. he sees the concentration on your face, the beads of sweat forming on your collarbone. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him even harder. "s-so close... shiiit—"

"me too," you whine into his ear. "fuck..." his grip tightens on your waist as his release builds. his movements become more urgent, more desperate. "tell me... mm— tell me how you want it, sweetheart—" he knows he won't last much longer, not with how perfectly you're stretching around him.

"inside me—"

"y-yeah?" his voice breaking as he feels you clench around him again. "you want me to fill you up?"

"mhmmm—" you moan just as he whimpers again, what pushes you into a state of bliss, euphoria consumes you as your orgasm crashes down over you, your hips stuttering.

once he feels you creaming around him, and the pretty — mesmerizing moans, oh he's too far gone. matt's control snaps, he buries himself as deep as possible inside you, his hips jerking as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep within your spasming pussy. one last moan leaves him, his vision blurring as his release seems to go on forever. "fuckkkk—"

after you both ride out your orgasms, your hips come to a stop, his hands splaying out against your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. matt can feel his release slowly leaking out of you and dripping down his thighs. your breath against his neck tickles his skin.

"oh my god," he breathes out, making you chuckle and you lift up your head, seeing his flushed face. so cute. "made me see fuckin' stars, holy shit."

you laugh again, getting off to lay down beside him, head on matt's shoulder, his heart skips a beat at that. "you're funny," you say.

he wraps his hand around your waist again, not really ready to let go yet. "m'serious."

"okay, mr serious," you roll your eyes. "doesn't mean you aren't funny. and still a gentleman."

"getting into your pants before first date isn't really gentleman of me," he smiles shyly as you look up at him.

"i got into your pants," you correct him. "you gonna get into mine after that first date."

"there's gonna be one?"

"oh, definitely."

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[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART NINE

paige x azzi

word count: 6.4k

A/N: Alright I’m feeling much better and I’m no longer losing my shit after CD said she wouldn’t call it an injury 🙂‍↕️. Here’s the next chapter! It’s a little rough at the beginning but just get through it trust me . Please leave live reacts if you can, I need a little extra motivation today 😭

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October 2022

For weeks after their argument, Paige kept her word. She stayed true to her role as Azzi’s best friend and was there anytime the younger girl needed her, it didn’t matter what she was doing, she was there. She did make Azzi stop coming with her to physical therapy though, and Nika had stepped in to take her place. Physical therapy always got a little too intimate when they’d ask whoever accompanied Paige to push on her knee and Paige knew that she and Azzi couldn’t handle that right now. They still spent time together–Paige helping Azzi in the gym here and there, texting during the day, hanging out sporadically, studying–but everything had changed. There were clear lines now. They didn’t flirt, they didn’t touch in ways that meant anything more than friendship. It was as though they were back to where they started, but it was painfully different.

Paige had started hanging out more with Ice, the freshman who quickly became a source of amusement for her. Ice's humor was dry and a little corny, and Paige found herself genuinely laughing more than she had since her and Azzi ended things. If that’s what you would call it. But even with Ice’s company, there were still moments when she couldn’t help but think about Azzi. It wasn’t that she didn’t love their friendship now, but it didn’t fill the large space Azzi once occupied when they were clearly more than friends.

Ice leaned back in her chair, her expression one of pure disbelief. “That’s bullshit. I refuse to believe there was a point when you and Azzi didn’t like each other.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, we couldn’t stand each other. Every little thing she did annoyed me and she hated me honestly.”

Ice raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And now look at you, a full-blown simp. How the tables have turned.”

Paige rolled her eyes, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“So how’d you two even get past that?” Ice asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “Like, how’d you go from ‘can’t stand each other’ to…” she gestured vaguely, “this?”

Paige’s laugh softened, and she shrugged. “The gym, mostly. We kinda connected over basketball first. That was the one thing we could agree on. At first, we only talked about basketball—nothing else. But once we built a decent foundation of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds, we started hanging out more. It just…happened from there.”

Ice nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Why don’t you just do that again this time then?”

Paige gave her a look. “We don’t need to build a foundation, Ice. She’s still my best friend.”

“Righttt,” Ice said, dragging out the word with heavy sarcasm. “Your best friend that you’re in love with, and you haven’t seen in like five days.”

Paige rolled her eyes again, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “We text.”

Ice snorted. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

Paige shrugged again, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s just… a little hard to be around each other sometimes now.”

Ice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

Paige didn’t answer, but the grin on her face grew wider, her expression practically glowing with unspoken thoughts.

Ice groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ew, dude. You’re disgusting.”

Paige just laughed, grabbing a basketball nearby and bouncing it lightly off Ice’s arm. “Shut up.”

But as the laughter faded, Paige’s expression softened, her smile dimming into something more thoughtful. “Honestly though, Azzi just needs some space from me to figure things out, and I’m trying to give her that.”

Ice tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Space for what?”

Paige hesitated, her fingers idly spinning the basketball in her lap. She glanced away briefly before answering, her tone careful and measured. “She has a lot of internal things to figure out before she can even think about being with me. I realized it a while ago but I don’t know if she has.”

Ice’s brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “That sounds… rough.”

“It is,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “But she’s worth it. So I’m giving her what she needs.”

Ice studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a small smile. “Damn P, you really love her, huh?”

Paige didn’t even flinch. She met Ice’s gaze, a soft but unwavering certainty in her eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

Ice smirked, her teasing tone returning. “You’re still a simp, though.”

Paige groaned, chucking the basketball at her again, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Shut up, Ice.”

November 2022

The next month was much harder than Paige thought it would be. Between missing Azzi and being sidelined by her injury and not being able to start the season with the team, she felt like she was drowning most days. Basketball, her usual escape, was no longer an option. Instead, she found herself in the gym, not to work out but to just sit in the silence, wishing she could push her body for hours on end. But eventually she’d get too frustrated when all she could do was shoot a few flat footed shots and she'd just let herself cry in the empty gym until she didn’t have any more energy. Other times, she’d just sit in her car, staring ahead, trying to calm her thoughts. More than once, she ended up sick at the sight of the back seat—a painful reminder of what, and who, was missing.

Azzi wasn’t doing much better. She’d become a mirror of who Paige used to be, burying herself in the gym day and night, trying to outrun her thoughts. Paige was still there for her, though, which made Azzi feel like even more of an ass, having somebody as sweet as Paige, just waiting for her to get her shit together. When things were a little too hard and Azzi would come to her door with tear stained eyes in the middle of the night Paige always let her in, let her talk about whatever she needed to or just sleep. The first time it happened was a random Tuesday at 3am.

Azzi’s knocks were gentle and tentative at first but it was enough for Paige to stir, her mind still fuzzy from sleep as the knock came again, a little louder this time. She groggily threw off her blanket and shuffled to the door, blinking against the dim hallway light cascading from the bottom of the door.

When she opened it, Azzi stood there, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, as though the weight of the world had poured out of her. There were no words, no explanations, just a look that said everything, Paige didn’t ask, she just stepped aside, letting Azzi into the warmth of the room. Azzi’s shoulders were trembling, but she didn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow uneven breaths. Paige closed the door softly behind her, then walked back to her bed, sinking back into the mattress where Azzi now laid, holding one of Paige’s pillows close.

Paige reached over, draping her arm against Azzi’s torso as she pulled her closer but not quite cuddling her. Just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t alone as Paige’s eyes fluttered shut drifting back to sleep.

After that night Paige couldn’t imagine not being there for Azzi, knowing what she was struggling with. But things weren’t the same. They didn’t text everyday anymore, and their hangouts had all but stopped after it became clear that they didn’t really know how to be just friends anymore. The space between them, once so easy to close, now felt like an endless stretch.

Azzi blamed herself for what happened between them. She was constantly fighting an internal battle that seemed like a losing game. One part of her knew exactly how she felt about Paige, knew she wanted the older girl more than anything. The other half was a constant pull against this thought process. The part of her brain that was telling her she wasn’t the type of person who takes risks like this, she didn’t gamble her future that she had worked so hard for. Constantly in her own ear telling herself she had every right to be scared.

Now, Paige sat alone in the empty gym, her legs stretched out in front of her, a basketball resting at her feet. She knew she couldn’t play much, just dribble around and shoot here and there, so she came here to think, to feel some semblance of peace. The quiet of the gym was comforting, even if it couldn’t heal what was broken, only Azzi could do that.

The sound of the door opening broke the silence. Paige glanced up to see Azzi standing there, her figure framed by the dim gym lights. Azzi paused, stuck in the doorway. The sight of Paige, lost in thought, felt all too familiar, stirring memories of another time they’d both hesitated to bridge the distance between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both caught in a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Paige chuckled softly at the irony, breaking the tension, and nudged the ball with her foot, sending it rolling toward Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile as she stepped inside, picking up the ball. She hesitated again, glancing at Paige, before making her way over. She sat down beside her but left enough space between them to keep the air light, uncertain. Neither of them spoke right away, the quiet wrapping around them like a truce.

Paige was the first to break the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness. “You played like shit last game.”

Azzi blinked, then burst out laughing, the unexpectedness of Paige’s comment catching her off guard. “Shit is an understatement,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Paige smirked, leaning back slightly. “What’d you come here to work on?”

Azzi shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. “Anything, I guess.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully as she got to her feet, grabbing the ball. Ice’s words from October echoing in her mind now. She spun the ball between her hands, glancing at Azzi. “Why you been taking so long to shoot lately?”

Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. “The passes are all over the place,” she said simply. “I got used to you hitting me in stride so it’s a big adjustment.”

Paige paused, nodding as she processed Azzi’s words. There was a quiet understanding in the air—an acknowledgment of how much they relied on each other, on and off the court.

By now, Azzi had stood up, her eyes tracking the ball as Paige passed it casually between her hands. Paige grinned. “Let’s work on it.”

Azzi raised a brow, confused. “Work on what?”

Paige laughed, her grin widening. “I’m about to throw you some of the worst passes of your life, and you’re gonna work on shooting without taking too much time to adjust the ball.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her feet were already carrying her toward the court.

Before they began, Azzi paused and looked at Paige. “I miss you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

Paige’s expression softened, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face. “I miss you too, Az,” she replied, her tone equally tender. Then, without missing a beat, she threw Azzi an intentionally terrible pass, the ball veering off to the side.

Azzi barely managed to catch it, quickly gathering herself for the shot, but the ball clanged off the rim.

Paige smirked. “Not bad. Now do it faster and try making it next time.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. They fell into an easy rhythm after that, Paige throwing increasingly awful passes, and Azzi working to shoot without hesitation. Laughter echoed through the gym when the passes were too bad to catch, blending with the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the hardwood.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were back in sync—no words needed, just the game and each other.

The rhythm they had fallen into was effortless, the sound of Azzi’s playlist flowing through the speakers now as they worked on her shot. Laughter occasionally filled the gym, the tension from the past weeks melting away with every pass and shot.

That is, until the music cut off, replaced by the ring of an incoming call.

Azzi, mid-dribble, glanced toward her phone sitting on the floor. “Can you check who it is?” she asked Paige, who was closer.

Paige hesitated for a moment before walking over. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing boldly. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, but it was enough for Azzi to notice. Paige cleared her throat. “Somebody named Elle,” she said, her tone a little too neutral.

Azzi didn’t miss the shift in Paige’s posture or the way her eyes flicked away from the phone. She didn’t need Paige to say anything; she could see the wheels turning in her head.

“It’s not what you think, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice firm but gentle.

Paige shook her head, brushing it off with a forced smile. “No, Azzi, you don’t have to explain—”

“Paige,” Azzi cut her off, stepping closer. “She’s my partner for a project. That’s it.”

Paige looked down, her fingers grazing the edge of her shirt. “It’s fine if it was something else you know,” she said softly, though the words felt hollow even to her.

“No, it isn’t,” Azzi said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt in Paige’s mind. “It isn’t fine because I don’t want anybody else. I only want you, Paige. I’ve told you that, and I mean it.”

Paige’s shoulders sagged slightly, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s not really my place.”

Azzi stepped even closer, her eyes searching Paige’s. “It is your place,” she said, her voice softer now. “So you don’t need to apologize.”

Paige glanced at her, caught in the sincerity of Azzi’s gaze. The tension in the air softened, the weight between them shifting back into something warm and steady.

“Okay,” Paige finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, giving her a small smile. “Good. Now come back over here—I’m not done getting used to these terrible passes.”

Paige chuckled despite herself, picking up the ball. And just like that, they found their rhythm again, though the words exchanged lingered, a quiet reassurance binding them closer.

After finishing up in the gym, both of them grabbed their things and headed out. Paige made her way toward her car, expecting Azzi to follow. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed Azzi strolling casually along the sidewalk.

Paige frowned, stopping in her tracks. “What are you doing?” she called out.

Azzi glanced back with a small shrug. “I didn’t drive.”

Paige’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of offense and exasperation flashing across her face. “You thought I was going to let you walk?” she said, her tone incredulous.

Azzi chuckled but didn’t respond, her smile widening as Paige simply muttered, “Unbelievable.”

With a grin, Azzi turned and walked toward Paige’s car. Paige muttered under her breath the whole time, just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “She’s gotta be crazy. Can’t believe she thought I’d let her walk. Who does she think I am?”

When they reached the car, Paige yanked open the passenger door, motioning for Azzi to get in. Azzi stepped in with a laugh, and Paige shut the door with more force than necessary, her irritation over something so small almost comical.

By the time Paige slid into the driver’s seat, Azzi was grinning at her. “I miss how dramatic you are,” she teased, still laughing softly.

Paige shot her a glare as she started the car. “You give me a fucking headache Azzi,” she said, but there was no bite to her words.

When they arrived back at the dorms, Paige’s suite came up first. She slowed to a stop, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning toward Azzi.

“Night,” Paige said, already halfway to the door.

Azzi nodded but didn’t keep walking. “Paige,” she called, her voice stopping Paige in her tracks.

Paige turned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “I’ve been thinking…can we maybe talk tomorrow?”

Paige blinked, her confusion evident, but she nodded. “Yeah… of course,” she said, her tone cautious.

Azzi’s smile widened a little , though she didn’t offer any explanation. “I’ll text you,” she said simply.

Paige gave her a small smile in return. “Okay. Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, P,” Azzi replied, her voice quiet but warm as she turned to walk toward her own suite.

Paige lingered for a second, watching Azzi’s retreating figure, her mind swirling with questions. Finally, she shook her head and headed inside, her thoughts lingering on the way Azzi had looked at her just now.

…

The next day, around 1 PM, Paige’s phone buzzed with a text from Azzi.

💗: You hungry? Let’s grab some food

Paige smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.

P 💗: Yeah that works for me

It didn’t take long for Azzi to reply.

💗: We’re taking my car.

Paige frowned slightly, shooting back a quick question mark.

P 💗: ?

The response came almost immediately.

💗: I almost threw up in your car yesterday when Steve Lacy came on

Paige let out a loud laugh, immediately understanding what Azzi was referring to as she had her own struggles being in there sometimes. She shook her head, typing back with a smirk.

P 💗: That’s dramatic, even for you

Azzi’s reply was short but effective.

💗: Not taking any chances

Still chuckling, Paige grabbed her things, her mood lighter than it had been in days. Azzi always had a way of pulling her out of her head, even with something as simple as sending a few texts.

They sat down at a corner table, the comforting hum of the restaurant around them as they ate their Chipotle bowls. The familiar, easy chatter filled the space between them yesterday being what they needed to return to the natural rhythm of their friendship, the laughter, and the simple joy of each other's company.

But, as the conversation slowly died down, Azzi looked at Paige, her expression shifting slightly.

“I want us to start over,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but serious.

Paige blinked, furrowing her brow. “Start over? What do you mean?”

Azzi took a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words. “I want us to try this again, but—” she paused, trying to make sure she found the right words. “I want us to do it the right way this time.”

Paige tilted her head, her confusion evident but her tone gentle with Azzi like always. “Azzi, what are you saying?”

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering as she leaned forward slightly, the space between them feeling more intimate. “I want us to date, Paige,” she said, her voice steady.

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before a soft, teasing smile tugged at her lips. “So... you want to be my girlfriend now?”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers tapping gently against the edge of the table. “No…at least not yet,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I want us to go on dates and test the waters. We did things the wrong way, and I want to fix it.”

Paige’s eyes softened as a slow smile began to form on her lips. She leaned forward slightly, clearly proud of Azzi. “Tell me more about it.”

Azzi smiled at the shift in Paige’s expression, the spark of curiosity now in her eyes. “We can go on dates,” Azzi continued, her voice steady as she outlined her plan she thought a lot about. “But I’m not going to let you kiss me until we have a few dates. And we’re not going to have sex for a while, or we’re going to at least try really hard not to. I want us to get to know each other as two people dating, not just best friends who happen to be doing this.”

Paige nodded, as she listened to her. She hadn’t expected Azzi to say something like this when she asked her to lunch today, but it made sense for her. It was a different approach, one that felt like it had the potential to be something more controlled. Something more grounded. Which is exactly what Azzi needed.

“So, where’s this coming from?” Paige asked, her voice low with curiosity but also a touch of tenderness. “I thought you were—”

Azzi cut her off, her gaze soft but unwavering. “Despite what you think, Paige,” she said quietly, “I’m in love with you. These past few weeks have done nothing but show me that. I’m still scared as hell, but I want to at least try.”

Paige swallowed, her heart beating a little faster at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She really hadn’t expected this, she expected Azzi to try to mend their friendship, try to get back to their usual routine of hanging out. But the more Paige thought about it she understood. Azzi was always so detailed and plan oriented. She always needed steps and checkpoints to ease her mind, to let her see the progress she was making.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Azzi continued, her voice a little shaky now that Paige hadn’t said much. “I just want to start fresh. I want us to really try.”

Paige leaned back slightly, her arms folded across her chest as she processed Azzi’s words. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, hung heavily in the air. She couldn’t help but hesitate, uncertainty creeping in despite the hope in her chest.

“How do I know you’re not just going to change your mind again?” Paige asked, her voice quiet. She wanted to believe Azzi, wanted to dive into this with her, but it was hard to shake that lingering fear of being hurt again.

Azzi didn’t flinch at the question. She just looked at Paige, with a calmness that her voice conveyed when she answered. “You don’t,” she said simply. “That’s the thing I had to get over. We don’t really know what’s going to happen. That’s been my fear this whole time. Not knowing. Not being in control of it. But we never know what’s going to happen at any point in life so.”

Paige’s gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, taking in what Azzi was saying. But Azzi wasn’t done, and she shifted slightly, her hands in her lap as she continued.

“I was talking to my mom the other day,” Azzi began, her voice quieter now, but still with a hint of vulnerability. “And she tried to make me laugh by asking who shat in my breakfast. But honestly, it just made me cry more than anything.”

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly how Katie could be. “Figures,” she said with a soft smile, her heart lifting slightly at the mention of Azzi’s mom.

Azzi smiled too, but the smile was fleeting, and the seriousness returned quickly. “Yeah. But... I told her everything that’s been going on. All of it. How I feel about you. About us.” She paused, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. “Some parts of the story shocked her, honestly. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she didn’t. She just listened.”

Paige’s eyes widened a little, a surprise settling in her chest. She hadn’t expected that. For Azzi to talk to her mom about them already? It was a huge step. It made her heart skip a little—an odd mix of pride and tenderness swelling inside her knowing Azzi had come out to her mom.

“How... how did it go?” Paige asked softly, unsure of how to phrase the question but needing to know. She could sense how much this conversation had meant to Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “It was fine. Perfectly fine, actually,” she said, her voice steady now. “I thought it was going to be hard, but... she already kind of knew. I mean, she’s not blind. She said she could tell something was going on, especially with how much time you spend at our place whenever we’re on break. She thought it was pretty obvious.”

Paige blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought Katie would pick up on that. “Really?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze soft but thoughtful. “Yeah. She’s always been good at reading me, even when I’m not saying anything. We were talking for a while after I explained everything... she said something that kinda struck a nerve.” Azzi’s voice lowered again, a little more humor to it. “She was explaining some stupid metaphor that I could never understand, and she said life is all about taking chances. Usually, the best ones—the ones that really matter—are the ones that scare us the most.”

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, and there was something raw, something real, in the way she looked at her. “And you scare the hell out of me, Paige,” she said quietly, her words filled with sincerity. “So that’s exactly why I can’t just let us pass by. I can’t keep living in the ‘what ifs.’ I’ve been too afraid, and I’m tired of being afraid.”

Finally, Paige let out a deep breath and reached across the table, her hand finding Azzi’s with a gentle squeeze. “I’m scared too,” Paige admitted softly.

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Paige’s hand in return, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for anything more than what I said. I just want to try, Paige. I want us to take it slow, to get to know each other again and see where it goes.”

Paige’s smile was small but genuine, her heart fluttering at the thought of what could be. “Okay. We’ll try,” she said, the words feeling right. “We’ll take it slow.”

Azzi’s smile mirrored hers, though it was still laced with vulnerability.

…

This is how, a few days later, Paige and Azzi were on their first date.

Azzi had initially tried to take the reins, attempting to plan every detail, but Paige quickly vetoed the idea, claiming she’d been waiting for months to make this happen. Azzi didn’t even try to argue with that logic.

Now, they were on their way to a mystery destination Paige refused to disclose, with music filling the car. The ride was easy, lighthearted, and full of laughter—until Azzi reached out and skipped another Steve Lacy song.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at her. “What? Are we never listening to the album again?”

Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t entirely hide the amused glint in her eyes. “Not for a long time, we’re not,” she retorted firmly, her voice dripping with mocking distress.

Paige only chuckled as they pulled into a parking lot. Azzi’s curiosity grew as she turned her attention ahead, her brow furrowing slightly until recognition dawned. Her lips curved into a wide grin.

“You brought me to the fair?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Paige glanced at her, her own smile soft but proud. “Yeah. Dinner’s boring,” she said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious decision in the world.

Azzi laughed, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. “Of course you’d think that.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, looking out at the glowing lights of the fairground. “Come on, big head,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

…

Their date was going amazingly. Azzi, naturally, made Paige get her a funnel cake, ignoring Paige’s protests as she tore off a piece and practically forced it into Paige’s mouth. Paige grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

As the night went on, it became obvious that Paige was annoyingly good at everything. Every time Azzi swore Paige was about to lose a game, Paige proved her wrong. Neither of them wanted any of the prizes, so Paige made a habit of giving them away, handing stuffed animals and trinkets to random kids. The two of them would watch as the kids ran off, bouncing with excitement, leaving Azzi shaking her head at how effortlessly charming Paige could be with all ages.

Now, they were strolling through the fair, Paige’s arm casually draped over Azzi’s shoulder while Azzi leaned into her side, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like the glowing lights of the fairground. But their quiet bubble burst when a small fan recognized Paige.

The fan approached cautiously, smiling nervously. “Hey, Paige, can I get a quick picture?”

Paige offered a warm smile. “Of course.”

After the fan snapped a picture with Paige, they hesitated before turning to Azzi. “Um, can I get one with you too Azzi?”

Azzi blinked in surprise before smiling and nodding. “Sure.”

Once the pictures were taken and the fan left with a cheerful wave, Paige’s attention shifted, her eyes catching sight of something in the distance. “Oh my god,” she muttered, her face lighting up as she grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“What?” Azzi asked, laughing at Paige’s sudden enthusiasm.

Paige didn’t answer, pulling her toward the basketball booth, where a massive Olaf stuffed animal sat on display. “It’s too good to be true,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

When they reached the booth, Paige handed the worker some tickets. He explained the rules, telling her she needed to make three out of five shots to win. Paige nodded and stepped up to the line drawn on the concrete.

But the worker held up a hand. “Nah, I know who you are. You gotta scoot back,” he said with a grin.

Paige laughed, stepping back as Azzi chuckled beside her. “Uh oh, the pressures on now,” Azzi teased.

Paige made the first four shots with ridiculous ease, defying the odds of the notoriously rigged carnival game. As she took her time with each shot a small crowd had gathered to watch her, but Paige was unfazed.

The worker let her take the fifth shot just for fun, even though she’d already won. Azzi, standing to the side, couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re such a show-off,” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Paige, knowing full well Azzi secretly loved it, grinned as she lined up the last shot. Without breaking eye contact with Azzi, she released the ball. The ball going in.

Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re irritating.”

Paige strolled over to the worker, who handed her the massive Olaf. Without hesitation, Paige turned and placed it into Azzi’s arms.

“This one’s yours,” Paige said with a confident grin.

Azzi looked down at the stuffed Olaf and then back at Paige, her expression softening. “You’re cute, you know that?”

Paige just smiled at her, as she felt a tap on her lower back seeing a little girl with a huge smile on her face.

After Paige and Azzi finished taking pictures with a few fans who had crowded around to watch Paige play the game, she and Azzi resumed walking through the fairground, their steps in sync. Paige’s arm once again draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder, the familiar, comforting ease of their connection returning.

They walked in silence for a few moments, but the air between them was full of understanding. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words—just the presence of each other was enough.

When they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi like always. Azzi smiled, appreciating the gesture every time Paige does it, before sliding into the passenger seat. Paige walked around the front of the car, slipping into the driver’s side. She took a moment to glance over at Azzi, who was still holding the Olaf stuffie, her eyes soft but smiling.

Paige gave a small smirk as she started the engine, teasing, “You’re actually keeping it, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting the stuffed Olaf on her lap. “Yes, it’s Olaf. I’m keeping it.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pulled out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between them as they drove off towards UConn, the glow of the fair behind them, leaving only the warmth of the moment to hold onto.

…

Long after Paige had “dropped” Azzi off following their first date, she found herself wandering into the gym. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about the court always drew her in. Spotting Azzi on the court dribbling, Paige couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself.

Azzi noticed her almost immediately, stopping mid-dribble with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

Paige smirked, walking further onto the court. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Azzi shrugged as Paige closed the distance, casually swatting the ball out of her hand. Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, there’s my annoying best friend.”

Paige laughed along, saying. “Ahh, so I’m ‘best friend Paige’ right now, huh?”

Azzi nodded, still grinning.

Paige raised an eyebrow, tilting her head dramatically. “Okay then, tell me something. I heard you went on a date tonight.”

Azzi chuckled at Paige’s antics, her laughter light and easy. “I did.”

Paige dribbled the ball a few times, casually lining up a close-range shot. “How was it?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Ehh I was a little nervous at first, but I actually loved it.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Nervous? Why were you nervous?”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she shrugged, her voice quieter. “You know why.”

Paige arched an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Humor me.”

Instead of answering directly, Azzi pivoted the conversation. “I went on some dates when we weren’t talking, like you suggested.”

Paige paused mid-dribble, her curiosity piqued. “You did?”

Azzi nodded, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah... with girls.”

Paige hummed at this as she resumed dribbling, her voice casual but interested. “How were they?”

Azzi shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “They were okay. It’s not like I was trying to figure out feelings for them... more so to figure out myself.”

Paige nodded, her gaze softening with a soft smile. “And?”

Azzi smiled faintly, her tone more serious now. “They helped. The conversation with my mom I was telling you about? A whole lot easier after that.”

Paige paused her dribbling to smile at Azzi, her voice full of warmth. “I’m proud of you, Az.”

Azzi’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile, the sincerity of Paige’s words lingering in the air.

Azzi met Paige’s gaze, her tone playful yet sincere. “There’s a little more attention that comes with going on a date with Connecticut’s version of Jesus though.”

Paige burst out laughing, tossing the ball softly at Azzi, who caught it with a grin.

Azzi continued, her voice shifting to something more serious. “I was nervous at first because I knew people would recognize us—mostly you. It’s a lot of extra attention.”

Paige nodded, her grin slowly growing as she listened.

Azzi tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”

Paige leaned casually against the wall, her grin turning a bit smug. “You know I picked the fair on purpose, right?”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “No...”

Paige smirked, folding her arms. “It’s far enough from campus that we wouldn’t be recognized as much, but it’s also a Thursday, which means there weren’t going to be a lot of teenagers or people our age there. Just a bunch of kids with their parents or older people. People our age would usually go on Fridays or Saturdays.”

Azzi blinked, processing the thoughtfulness behind Paige’s planning.

Paige stepped closer, her voice softening. “I picked today because I knew anyone who approached us would either be a super-excited kid or an old-school basketball fan who wouldn’t care why it was just the two of us there together. I wanted it to be... easier for you.”

Azzi was stunned, her lips parting slightly as she stared at Paige. “You really thought that far ahead?”

Paige shrugged with a casual air, though her gaze was warm. “I know you, Az. I know how hard this is for you.”

Azzi laughed, her tone light again as she tried to hide how much Paige’s words meant to her. “If you knew what I was struggling with the whole time, why’d you let me make it seem like basketball was the only thing stopping me?”

Paige’s smile softened, her voice dropping just enough to convey her sincerity. “Because I needed to give you time. It’s not a realization someone else can process for you.”

The air between them shifted as Paige leaned casually against the wall, her height slightly towering over Azzi with the way they were standing. The space between them grew smaller without either of them noticing.

Azzi tilted her head up to look at Paige, her expression soft. “I miss your eyes,” she said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out without her permission.

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s always the first thing you say to me.” Her grin widened, teasing but fond.

Azzi didn’t bother denying it, her gaze unwavering. The weight of her words lingered in the air, pulling them closer in a way that had nothing to do with proximity.

After a moment, Azzi whispered, her tone playful but with a hint of nervousness, “I’m not letting you kiss me.”

Paige’s toothy grin grew, her confidence shining through. “That’s fine.” Her voice was low, carrying just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch.

But Paige didn’t move away. She stayed close, her presence overwhelming yet comforting, as she just took in Azzi standing in front of her.

Azzi didn’t respond, her lips quirking up just slightly. Instead, she shook her head with a quiet laugh, looking away but refusing to step back.

Paige finally stepped back, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. The sound lingered in the air, as she picked up a basketball and started dribbling casually.

Azzi rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag muttering, “I’m leaving.”

Paige’s laugh grew louder as she called after her, “See you later, princess!”

Azzi didn’t stop or turn around, but a faint smile spread across her face. She lifted her hand and stuck her middle finger up in response, a playful gesture that made Paige laugh even harder as Azzi walked out of the gym.

[spiderb00]

Baths and Dinners

Daniela Avanzini x reader 

“You and your girlfriend don't have many quiet moments, but when you do, it's always perfect” 

Genre – Fluff   Warnings – None  (Request)

Now playing – Cariño, The Marias

The keys to your apartment with Daniela were tinkling in your hands, your girlfriend's laughter echoing through the corridors of the building as she clung to your waist. You and Daniela had gone on a date, with the busy schedules of both of you, you rarely had time to spend all day together, having only a few dinner nights before returning to the busy routine of the two of you.   

Opening the door, you entered the apartment, Daniela still clinging to you as she kissed your shoulder blades. The yellowish lights of the sunset came in through the open curtains, leaving the apartment with a cozy air. You and Daniela loved the space you had together, the Latina loved going to your shared apartment after a tiring day, but now, with the two of you spending the day together and looking like a newlywed couple, she thought she couldn't wait to have a full life with you.   

"I'm dead" Daniela said, letting go of the tightness she had around your waist and throwing herself on the couch.   

"I know." You said, laughing at the drama the curly-haired girl was making. "How about a bath? Then I can prepare dinner..." You said, waiting for Daniela to evaluate your proposal.  

"Pasta?" The Latina asked, with a twinkle in her eye.   

"Whatever you want, pretty girl." You say, Daniela smiled and pulled your shirt, making you lie on top of her on the couch. 

Placing your hands on either side of Daniela's head, you supported your weight, you and the Latina smiling at each other, both of you leaning slowly until the lips of the two of you were together. The kiss was calm, tender, and conveyed all the love you both felt. The sun was fading as the minutes passed, and you wanted to stop time and be forever with the love of your life.   

Daniela's hands entered your shirt, the Latina caressed your back while savoring the kiss. Daniela's chest seemed to jump hard, every second close to you was precious to the Latina.   

"Come on, I'm dying to put on pajamas." You said, pulling the Latina's hand and making her get up from the couch.   

In the bathroom, the shower water was warm, Daniela had her back to you, while you massaged the blonde's curls. The shampoo foam getting bigger, and all you heard was the grumbles of pleasure coming out of the Latina.   

"This is so good. Thank you, baby." Daniela said, while rinsing her hair in the warm water of the shower.   

"Any time, baby." You said, hugging the waist of the lower woman and kissing her shoulder.   

After you got out of the shower, you and Daniela were in matching pajamas, ready to make dinner. The smell of sauce and pasta filled the entire kitchen, and you left your girlfriend on the stove while you opened a wine for the two of you.   

"You're so hot!" Daniela says, looking at you.  

"Do you think I'm hot just because I'm opening a wine? Weird." You said, teasing the Latina, that she wrinkled her nose and came closer to you.   

"Shut up, I'm trying to be romantic here." The Latina said, pulling your face and leaving a long kiss on your lips.  

"You're very romantic, baby." You say after parting your lips from hers, heading towards the pot.   

Daniela accompanied you, once again wrapping her arms around your waist. The Latina loved being like this with you, the closeness, your smell, the feeling of the temperature of your skin against hers, she loved everything.   

When dinner was finally ready, you and Daniela sat down on the couch. The series you and Daniela were watching recently on TV, while the two of you ate a generous plate of the pasta you had made. Daniela was leaning on you, savoring the dish, occasionally laughing at the program and giving you a few kisses on the cheek when you made some silly comment.   

"More wine, Miss Avanzini?" You said, imitating a waiter. What could you say, that was your first bottle, but you had a low alcohol content. 

"You get cute when you're drunk, baby. Maybe we should stop here." The Latina said, placing the empty plate of noodles on the coffee table.   

"It's okay, you're in charge." You said, looking at her with your eyes downcast and smiling slightly.   

"I love you." Daniela said, putting her hands on your face, pulling you into a kiss full of love.   

"I love you more." You said, looking into the blonde girl's eyes.   

just something cozy with Miss Avanzini.

I'm going through a development problem, which means I'm not being able to develop the stories so much, practically a blockage.

well, I hope you enjoyed it, and listen to The Marias, this band is fire!! My favorite song of theirs is "Ay no puedo", it's just fantastic. Stay safe,

xoxo, spider.

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ?

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

6159 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ɪɴꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ, ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋɪᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ?

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

You and Jayce stood outside the bright, cheerful building of the preschool, staring up at the colorful sign that read "Bright Beginnings Academy." Jayce's hands rested casually on his hips, the usual confident smile on his face as he looked down at you. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as well.

"I still can't believe they asked us to do this," Jayce said, adjusting his jacket. "It's not every day we get invited to talk to a group of young minds about science and technology."

You laughed lightly. "I think it's a great opportunity to inspire them. If even one of these kids decides to pursue something in science because of what we say, that would be amazing."

Jayce nodded, beaming. "Exactly! And I’ll make sure to give them a talk they'll never forget. You know, I can be pretty persuasive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Just... remember, not every five-year-old is going to understand particle acceleration. Keep it simple for them, okay?"

Jayce waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this. I'll make it sound fun."

You both entered the preschool and were greeted by the head teacher, Ms. Graves, who led you to the first classroom. The kids were sitting at small tables, eyes wide with curiosity, some fidgeting with toys and others whispering to each other.

"Everyone, this is Jayce and Y/N," Ms. Graves announced cheerfully. "They’ve come to tell us all about their exciting work!"

Jayce stepped forward, his tall frame making him stand out among the tiny chairs. He cleared his throat, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey there, little scientists! I’m Jayce, and I build incredible machines that can help solve problems! I work with energy and technology to create inventions that can change the world. I bet some of you have seen big machines like robots, right?" He smiled, trying to gauge their understanding.

A few hands shot up eagerly. "I saw a robot on TV!" one of the kids exclaimed.

"That's right! And those robots use technology I help create!" Jayce said, puffing out his chest slightly.

The kids seemed intrigued, but the more Jayce spoke, the more confused their faces became as he dove deeper into the technical aspects of his work. He mentioned “energy fields” and “complex algorithms,” which only seemed to go over their heads.

You smiled softly to yourself, watching him confidently speak. It was clear he was passionate about his work, but you could see where things might be getting a bit... complicated for the children. You moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look.

"Maybe we should take a step back and make it a bit more fun for them," you suggested gently, giving him a playful nudge.

Jayce blinked, realizing his overcomplicated explanation. "Ah, right. I got carried away."

You took a step forward, crouching down to the kids' level. "Hey there, everyone!" you said warmly. "I’m Y/N, and I love science too! Jayce builds things that help people, but sometimes, instead of using big words, we can show you how things work with fun activities!"

You looked to the teacher, who smiled and nodded in agreement. "Let’s make a simple machine today. We can build something cool together!"

The kids cheered, their excitement palpable. You led them to the activity table where materials like cardboard, straws, rubber bands, and small gears were set out. You guided them through creating simple contraptions—a basic pulley system, a little lever, and even a tiny rolling machine.

Jayce watched you in awe, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed how effortlessly you connected with the kids. You patiently helped each child, showing them how to build and encouraging their creativity. Some kids had trouble with the mechanics, and you were there with a smile, explaining everything in the simplest ways.

The more you interacted with the kids, the more they clung to you. One child tugged at your sleeve, asking to show you their creation. Another crawled into your lap, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes. You laughed, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

"Look, Jayce," you whispered, nodding to the group gathered around you. "They really love you too, but I think they might love me just a bit more right now."

Jayce chuckled, a bit of a pout on his lips. "I’m supposed to be the cool inventor, but I guess you’ve got the magic touch."

You leaned in, teasing. "What can I say? I’m a natural with kids. They like when things are fun and hands-on."

Jayce's gaze softened as he watched you, a proud smile spreading across his face. "You’re amazing," he said, more to himself than to you. "You make it look so easy."

The children continued to surround you, proudly showing off their creations. One little girl climbed onto your lap, a big smile on her face as she presented her simple yet clever machine.

"Look, I made a lever that helps me open my toy box!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You beamed, helping her adjust the lever. "That's fantastic! You’ve just made something that could help you every day. I think you’re a real inventor in the making."

The classroom was alive with chatter, and Jayce had long since stepped back to give you the spotlight. He couldn’t help but admire how you connected with the kids, how naturally you made learning fun for them. He realized, with a soft chuckle, that maybe you were the true teacher here today.

As the activity came to a close, the kids surrounded you, each one wanting to show you their project or give you a high-five. Jayce joined in, still amazed by how well you were able to inspire the next generation.

"You know," he said, as you walked hand-in-hand with him out of the classroom, a playful glint in his eye, "maybe next time, we should let you do the talking."

You smiled, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should. But you were still awesome, Jayce. I just think you need to simplify your genius a little."

Jayce laughed softly, his heart warmed by how easily you embraced everything that came with working with children. "I think I could learn a thing or two from you. You’re a natural."

You grinned. "I just know how to make science fun."

VIKTOR

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the warm fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. You sat beside Viktor in his workshop, the steady hum of machinery and the quiet crackle of the fire filling the space. You’d been talking for hours, about everything and nothing, when the conversation shifted to something you’d always carried in your heart.

"I’ve always wanted to have children," you said softly, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. "Even when I was young, I used to imagine what it would be like to be a mother, to have a little one running around, learning new things, growing up. It just always felt right to me."

Viktor’s expression faltered for a moment, his brow furrowing as he lowered his gaze. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the subtle tension in the air. It wasn’t like Viktor to be so quiet, and it made your heart tighten with concern.

"You... want children?" Viktor’s voice was softer than usual, almost as if he was testing the words, as if they were foreign to him.

You nodded, turning toward him with a small smile. "I’ve always dreamed of it, yes. I think it’s one of the most fulfilling things someone can experience."

Viktor shifted slightly in his seat, a look of deep thought on his face. "I..." He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair as if searching for the right words. "I don’t think that’s something I can give you."

You blinked, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. "What do you mean?"

Viktor’s eyes met yours, and there was a heaviness in them, a burden he had carried for so long, one you knew he didn’t speak of often. "I have my illness," he said quietly, his voice tight. "And my... condition. I don’t want to pass on any of what I have to a child."

You felt a pang in your chest, the deep sadness in his words cutting through you. He was already thinking about his own deformity, his illness—how it affected his body, his life. Viktor never talked about it openly, always focusing on his work, but you knew that it was always there, lingering in his mind. He feared it, feared what it would mean for the future.

"But Viktor," you whispered, reaching out to take his hand, "you are more than your illness. You are strong, brilliant, and beautiful in so many ways. If we were to have children... they wouldn’t just inherit the things that make you feel broken. They’d inherit everything that makes you who you are."

Viktor’s eyes flickered to your hand, his gaze softening for a brief moment, but the weight of his thoughts remained. "I can’t bear the thought of passing on my suffering to anyone, especially a child. I wouldn’t want them to go through the things I’ve been through... the pain, the limitations." His voice broke slightly, though he tried to steady it. "I wouldn’t want them to have to carry the burden of what I’ve become."

Your heart ached for him, knowing how deeply he cared about you and how much it hurt him to feel that he could not offer you the life you had dreamed of. You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a tender smile, one filled with understanding and love.

"I understand, Viktor," you said softly. "I understand more than you know. I’m not asking for something you can’t give right now, and I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. I respect your decision, and I support you completely. If it’s not the right time for you, then I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me to."

Viktor’s eyes searched yours, his lips trembling slightly, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow reflected in them. "You... you would wait for me?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I love you, Viktor. And whether we have children or not, my love for you won’t change. We’ll have the future that’s right for us, together."

A long silence fell between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a peaceful kind of silence, the kind that spoke volumes without the need for words. Viktor’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as if he needed that touch to steady himself, to remind himself that you were there, beside him.

"You’ve always been so patient with me," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness you rarely heard. "I don’t deserve your patience."

You shook your head, a small, affectionate smile playing at your lips. "You don’t have to deserve it, Viktor. It’s not about that. It’s about us, about being together, and supporting each other. We’ll figure this out, one step at a time. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here."

Viktor’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the gratitude he struggled to express. He leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent promise passing between you. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "For everything."

And in that moment, you knew, without a doubt, that whatever the future held, you and Viktor would face it together—patiently, lovingly, and with the same unwavering commitment that had always defined your relationship.

JAYVIK

The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the room, the warm glow casting gentle shadows on the walls of the living room. You, Viktor, and Jayce had just finished a long day of work, and now, you were all unwinding in your cozy space. You and Viktor were seated on the couch, a few scattered papers and empty mugs left on the coffee table, while Jayce leaned back in his armchair, kicking his boots up with a sigh of relief.

For a while, there was nothing but the steady rhythm of breathing and the occasional rustling of papers as Viktor worked on a few ideas for his next project. Jayce, on the other hand, seemed content to simply unwind, the silence comfortable in a way only the three of you could share.

It was a casual evening—no talk of politics, no discussions of breakthroughs or setbacks. But then, as Jayce stretched his arms above his head, breaking the silence, he casually dropped a thought that had been on his mind for a while.

"You know," Jayce said, half to himself, "I was just thinking about how we could have a little one running around here one day. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to pass all of this on to, someone who would grow up with us."

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his chair. He didn’t immediately respond, though his gaze drifted to you as if testing the waters.

"You’re right," Viktor added quietly after a moment, his tone soft but pensive. "Maybe one day, we should. We’ve spent so much of our lives focused on work, but I suppose we should think about a future beyond just our creations."

You looked up at the two of them, surprised to hear this so directly. They’d mentioned the idea in passing before, but now it felt more tangible, more real. Still, you said nothing at first, unsure of how to react. Jayce, always eager to entertain new possibilities, kept talking.

"I wonder what it would be like," he mused. "What kind of parents we'd be. It’s crazy to think about it, but I think I’d want to give it a shot. But you know, it’s a lot of work, a lot of responsibility." He laughed softly. "Not sure if we’d be the perfect role models, huh?"

You gave him a half-smile, trying to keep the conversation light. But inside, a knot of tension began to form in your stomach. You could hear the underlying question in their words—the curiosity, the openness, and perhaps even a bit of uncertainty. They wanted your opinion, wanted to know if this was something you were considering, too.

But as you sat there in the living room with them, you knew this conversation had to come to a head. The secret you had been keeping from them—the truth you hadn’t been able to share yet—was slowly eating at you.

Taking a deep breath, you set your mug down on the table with a soft clink, your hands shaking slightly as you prepared to speak.

"I—" you started, your voice trembling a bit. "I need to tell you something."

Jayce and Viktor both turned their attention to you, sensing the change in the air. They sat up a little, waiting for you to continue.

"I’ve never told you this before," you began, trying to steady your breathing. "But... I can’t have children."

The words hung in the air between you like a weight, a truth you’d kept locked away for so long. You could feel the sting of shame welling up in your chest as you tried to continue.

"It’s... it’s because of infertility," you murmured, your eyes cast downward, unable to meet their gazes. "And I’ve never told either of you. I guess... I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or make you feel like... like I wasn’t enough. I’ve been so afraid that if you knew, you’d..."

You trailed off, the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You hadn’t meant for this to happen. You hadn’t meant to break down like this, but the truth was heavy, and the shame was worse than you’d imagined.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The weight of your confession hung over you, suffocating. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too afraid of how they might react. You had kept this secret for so long, hoping it would never come up, but now the truth was out there.

Then, to your surprise, you felt Viktor’s hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if to reassure you that he was there. His voice, when it came, was softer than you had ever heard it.

"Y/N," he said quietly, his tone filled with understanding. "You don’t need to feel ashamed. We’re not angry with you, not at all."

Jayce, too, leaned forward, his gaze filled with concern but also affection. "We’re a team, Y/N," he said, his voice earnest. "There’s nothing you could say that would change that. We love you, and that doesn’t change because of something like this."

You finally lifted your gaze to them, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. "But I—" you began, but Viktor shook his head gently.

"Listen to us," he said softly. "This doesn’t change anything. We’re still the same. And if you want children, we’ll find a way. Together."

Jayce nodded in agreement. "There are options, you know. Adoption. Surrogacy? We’ll figure it out, Y/N. No matter what."

Your heart swelled at their words, the weight in your chest beginning to lift, even if just a little. You weren’t alone in this. They understood, they cared, and they weren’t angry.

"I don’t deserve you both," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Viktor leaned closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his eyes warm with sincerity. "You deserve all of us, Y/N. We’re in this together. There’s no need for shame. We’ll take each step together, and when the time is right, we’ll decide what’s next."

Jayce reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softened with a rare, tender understanding. "We’re here for you, always. And we’ll figure this out, whatever path we need to take."

The comfort in their words, the warmth in their touch, soothed you more than you could have expected. Maybe the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but you knew you wouldn’t walk it alone.

Together, the three of you would find a way forward.

VANDER

It was a quiet evening at the Vander household. The children had long since been put to bed, and the house was filled with the soft sounds of the night—crickets chirping in the distance, the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. You and Vander were seated by the fireplace, the warm glow from the flames casting gentle shadows across the room.

You had just finished tidying up after a long day of running around with the kids—Powder, Vi, Mylo, and Claggor. They were all sweet, each of them with their own personalities, their own quirks, and you loved every moment spent with them. But tonight, as you sat beside Vander, there was a different energy between you two. A quiet, lingering thought that had been on Vander’s mind for some time now.

Vander watched you from his seat, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he observed you. You were always so gentle, so patient with the kids. He had seen you day in and day out, playing with them, teaching them, loving them. It was clear how much you cared for them, and that made his heart swell with warmth. But tonight, something else flickered behind his eyes. Something he had been holding back for a while.

"You know," Vander began, his voice low and thoughtful, "you’ve been incredible with the kids."

You smiled at him, a soft, fond expression on your face. "I love them like they’re my own."

Vander’s gaze softened. "I can see that. They adore you. And it’s not just the way you take care of them—it’s the way you make them feel safe, the way you guide them. They need you, Y/N."

You shrugged, trying to hide the warmth in your chest. "They make it easy. They’re amazing kids."

Vander’s smile grew slightly, but there was something more in his eyes, a hint of something deeper. "You’ve been so good to them. I can't help but think…" He paused, as if carefully considering his words. "I wonder what it would be like to have another."

Your heart skipped a beat, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Another?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his gaze turning toward the fire. "Yeah. You’re so good with them... I can’t help but imagine what it would be like, to have one of our own." His voice was quiet, almost a reflection of a thought he hadn’t fully voiced until now.

You stared at him, your mind racing. You loved the kids you already had but the idea of having one with Vander, of building your own family even further, was an exciting thought. You had always felt that spark of hope deep down, but you never dared to mention it, not wanting to push for something Vander might not feel the same about. But now, hearing him say it out loud, your heart fluttered with possibility.

"I..." You didn’t quite know what to say at first, the warmth in your chest expanding at the thought of another child. "I’ve thought about it, too. What it would be like to have one together."

Vander’s eyes found yours again, soft and full of tenderness. "I can’t help but wonder if we could handle another one. But then again..." He chuckled quietly, rubbing his hand over his chin. "We seem to manage just fine with the four of them."

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. "They do keep us on our toes, don’t they?"

Vander grinned. "Yeah, but that’s what makes it worth it. Watching them grow, helping them become who they’re meant to be. And... I see the way you look after them. It’s something special."

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love them, all of them. I love being their guardian, their guide." You sighed contently, your eyes falling closed as you breathed in the warmth of the room and the safety of his embrace. "I think another child could fit right in, don’t you?"

Vander’s hand found yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Maybe it could. Maybe it’s time to see if we’re ready for that next step."

You turned your face up to look at him, your heart racing slightly as you met his gaze. The flickering light from the fire reflected in his eyes, giving them a depth of emotion that made your pulse quicken.

"You think we’re ready?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vander’s grin grew as he leaned in slightly closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I think it’s something we should try."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the tone in his voice, the weight of his words settling in. It was as if he was speaking not just about the idea of another child, but about everything that came with it—commitment, trust, love. His lips brushed against your ear as he continued, his voice low and smooth.

"I can’t think of a better person to have a child with than you, darling," he murmured. "So... what do you say? Are you ready to try?"

The air between you two seemed to crackle with tension, an unspoken promise, a shared understanding. You leaned into him, your heart thudding in your chest as you whispered back, "I’m ready."

With that, Vander’s lips found yours, gentle yet full of promise, as if sealing the decision, sealing the future. The kiss deepened, the warmth between you both growing stronger as you both knew, in that moment, that your love was only going to grow even further.

And as the fire crackled softly in the background, you both knew one thing for certain: a new chapter was beginning for you both. Together.

SILCO

It was late in the evening when Silco found himself watching you from across the room. You were sitting with Powder, laughing softly as the young girl showed you her latest creation—a makeshift toy made from scrap materials she’d found in the undercity. Powder’s face lit up with pride, and you, with your usual warmth, encouraged her with genuine admiration. Silco watched the scene unfold quietly from his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the way you interacted with Powder. It was a bond he’d seen growing stronger with each passing day, and though he didn’t show it, it stirred something deep within him.

You had always been like a guiding force for Powder. She trusted you, adored you, and looked up to you in a way that only a daughter could. Silco had his own complicated feelings about it all—he'd never been one for sentimentality or nurturing, especially when it came to children. The thought of raising a child, having someone so vulnerable tied to him… it made his stomach turn.

He shifted in his chair, then stood and approached you, his gaze flickering between you and Powder for a moment before he spoke.

“Y/N,” Silco began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying seriousness, “there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

You turned your attention to him, a soft smile on your lips as you glanced from him to Powder. “What’s on your mind, Silco?”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice just a touch more guarded. “I’ve been thinking. About… children.”

You frowned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The seriousness in Silco’s tone made you wary, and you instinctively looked over at Powder. Her wide eyes were bouncing between you both, sensing the tension that was beginning to settle over the room.

“You should go get ready for bed, Powder,” you said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be with you in a minute, alright?”

Powder hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between you and Silco, before she nodded slowly. “Okay, Y/N,” she muttered, and with a last glance, she shuffled off toward her room, her footsteps growing quieter as she left the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, the air in the room felt heavier, and you turned back to Silco, your gaze now fixed on him with an unspoken understanding that the conversation had just shifted into something more serious.

Silco’s eyes never left you as he continued, his expression unreadable. “I’ve seen the way you care for Powder. The way you’ve taken her under your wing. And it’s…” He paused, almost unwilling to continue. “It’s admirable, the bond you share with her. But I want you to know this, Y/N…” He took a slow step closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. “I don’t want children. The thought of having a child, someone so vulnerable, tied to me… it’s a weakness. A risk. They could be used against me one day. I won’t allow that.””

You could feel the tension in the room rise as he spoke. You could see the vulnerability behind his eyes, the fear of losing control, and perhaps, in some twisted way, the self-awareness that having a child might be more than he could handle. And yet, it didn’t come as a surprise. Silco’s life had always been about control, power, and survival. The last thing he needed was someone to hold over him, to manipulate his emotions.

You took a deep breath, moving from your position on the floor to sit beside Silco, resting your hand gently on his leg. "You're not the only one who doesn't want children, Silco," you said softly.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

You offered him a reassuring smile, your voice steady. "I’ve never really had the desire to have children of my own. Powder is the only daughter I need. She’s enough for me."

Silco’s eyes softened ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to form a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I suppose we both have our reasons."

You nodded, the weight of the conversation settling around you. "And those reasons are enough for me. Powder has always been the light in my life, and I’m happy with the family we’ve built. With you, with her, with everything we’ve worked for."

Silco regarded you for a long moment, his usual hard demeanour softening in the quiet of the room. He reached out, placing his hand gently over yours with a rare tenderness that made your heart skip.

"I respect that, love," he said quietly, his voice carrying more warmth than usual. "I can see how much she means to you. And how much you mean to her." His gaze flickered toward the door where Powder had gone off to bed, before returning to you. "I'm glad you're here. With me. With us."

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you despite the gravity of the conversation. "I’m glad, too, Silco."

The room fell into a long silence, but it was comforting, not uncomfortable. Both of you took in the truth of what had been said—no more, no less. The bond you shared, the family you had built, was more than enough. You didn’t need anything else.

"Good," Silco muttered after a pause, his usual commanding tone returning. "Then that’s settled."

You nodded, meeting his eyes with quiet conviction. "Yeah. It is."

And with that, the topic was closed—no resentment, no regret, just a mutual understanding between the two of you. You didn’t need a child to complete your family. You already had everything you needed in each other.

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC!)

It was a quiet afternoon in the streets of Zaun, the sun casting an amber glow over the city as you wandered through the busy market, enjoying the calm between your usual chaotic routine. You had been picking up a few supplies, humming softly to yourself, when you noticed a small, frightened child standing near a stack of crates, eyes wide and scanning the crowd.

Instinctively, you approached the child, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Hey there, you look lost,” you said, crouching down to their level. The child nodded, eyes brimming with tears, and you could see the desperation in their gaze.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured them softly, your voice warm. “Let’s find your parents, okay?”

The child clung to you as you took their hand, and as you made your way through the crowds, they became more and more comfortable in your presence, their grip on you loosening but still steady. The child’s fears slowly ebbed away, soothed by your steady presence. Eventually, you found the child’s parents near the merchant stalls, frantically scanning the crowd.

A tall woman with wild, auburn hair was the first to notice you approaching. Her expression softened with relief as you caught her gaze.

“Are you looking for someone?” you asked, glancing down at the child who had begun to tug at your shirt.

“Yes! My son!” The woman rushed toward you, and the child’s face lit up. Without another word, the child hopped off your hip and ran to their mother, clinging to her side.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” the woman said, tears welling up in her eyes as she held her child tight. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The man beside her, who had been nervously pacing, stepped forward. His deep voice was shaky as he added, “We’ve been looking everywhere. We thought we lost him for good.” He turned to you with a grateful smile. “You’ve done more than we could have asked for.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile, your heart warming at the reunion. You nodded at them both. “Just happy to help.”

The woman reached out to pull you into a brief, heartfelt hug. “Thank you again. We’re in your debt.”

You returned the hug lightly, your thoughts drifting as you watched the mother and father take their child’s hand, walking together with him in tow. They waved as they walked away, and you waved back before turning to leave the scene.

It was in that moment that you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you, followed by an all-too-familiar voice, sharp and full of an edge you recognized.

“What’s this?” Jinx’s voice echoed from behind, full of suspicion. “You just making friends with every little rat in the city now?”

You turned around to see her standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on her face as her eyes fixed not on you, but on the small child who had been clinging to you moments before.

Jinx’s gaze was icy, her brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at the child as they walk away with their parents. She took a slow step forward, the usual manic energy in her movements tempered by something else — jealousy. And that was a rare sight.

“Why’s was that kid clinging onto you like you’re his new mom?” Jinx sneered, her voice dripping with possessiveness, the insecurity in her words biting deeper than she likely intended. She shifted uncomfortably, hands fidgeting with the straps of her weapon as her gaze shists to you. Her foot tapped impatiently against the ground, and you could see her cheeks flush with frustration.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension in the air, but also the deeper discomfort simmering beneath her words. “I was just helping them find their parents, Jinx. Nothing more to it.”

"Right," she muttered under her breath, her jealousy almost palpable now. “I see how it is. Just another kid looking for a mother figure while I... get left behind. Not enough room for me, huh?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a split second, you felt a pang of regret for the situation, as if somehow you had betrayed her by offering your care to someone else. But then, you remembered who you were to Jinx — and who she was to you.

You took a deep breath, your eyes flickering to Jinx, who had taken a few steps closer, her posture tense and guarded, like she was expecting a confrontation.

“Jinx…” you began, your voice soft but with the weight of sincerity. “You know I care about you. That kid… they needed someone, and I just helped. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Jinx’s expression faltered for a moment, and she looked away, biting her lip as she avoided meeting your gaze. There was a long pause before she muttered, her voice barely audible, “I know... It’s just, I... I don’t like seeing anyone else taking your attention. It’s like... you’re spreading yourself thin, and I’m afraid there won’t be enough of you for me.”

You took a step closer, your heart aching as you read the vulnerability in her words. Gently, you cupped her cheek, guiding her face to meet yours. “You’re my priority, Jinx. Always.”

Her eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing through the storm of emotions that she usually kept hidden. She let out a soft sigh, her usual wildness dimming as she allowed herself to relax for just a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her hands falling loosely at her sides, her expression more like the girl you knew — Powder. The one who wanted to be tough, but deep down just wanted to be cared for.

You smiled warmly at her, your thumb brushing her cheek tenderly. “Don’t be. You never have to apologize for needing me. And you’ll always have my attention when you need it.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she finally let her guard down a bit more. The jealousy, while still lingering beneath the surface, was no longer as intense. She knew, deep down, that your bond was something that couldn’t be easily replaced or shared with anyone else.

Jinx huffed softly, a touch of her usual playful spark returning as she bumped her shoulder against yours. “Yeah, well, you better not go getting attached to every little lost kid running around.”

You chuckled, leaning into her shoulder for a brief moment. “I’ll try to keep my ‘motherly instincts’ in check for you, alright?”

“Good,” she said, her tone a mix of relief and mischief. “But if you’re gonna start collecting kids, at least pick the cool ones, yeah?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes but feeling lighter. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jinx.”

And as you both walked away from the market, side by side, you knew this was just another layer of your relationship with Jinx — an unspoken understanding that no matter the jealousy or misunderstandings, you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

[sugusat]

Saturo Gojo x Reader

Post-Apocalyptic Survival: In a world overrun by curses, you team up with Gojo to survive. His cocky attitude keeps you somewhat entertained, but his rare moments of vulnerability make you wonder what else he has hidden under that blindfold.

Slight enemies to lovers, gojos a goof and lowkey down bad but reader is angsty af from saving everyone. Pesismistic reader, eventual smut. Oral, grinding? Gojo calls reader Peach!

Part 2!

The long abandoned buildings creaked and swayed as rats scuttled across the ground in the afternoon sun. You and Gojo had been walking for hours now, hell bent on making your way back to camp where you and a group of survivors had been banding together to try and defeat the dominating curses once and for all.

You had both gotten lost on a run for supplies, overwhelmed by high-level curses that had attacked.

The camp would be wondering where you both were now, and you weren’t liking the look of that nasty gash on Saturos ribs that he had received in turn for defending you. With Gojo still weak from the fight, you didn't like the idea of being out here vulnerable any longer than you needed to be.

He was such an idiot sometimes.

"Come onnn Peach, we've been walking for hours. Can we pur-leasE take a break." Gojo sighed as he dragged his feet across the mudded road.

"For the last time, no! We need to get into the woods whilst we have the daylight, the curses will be coming out to play soon and I do not want another run-in. Besides, I'm estimating the camp is only around 1 hour from here." You sighed as you continued walking, ignoring the ache in your feet and trying to not become too paranoid as the dark woods came into view.

This was good, you would be more covered on this part and have more areas to hide. You would get home shortly and then could have some well-needed space from Gojo.

All these thoughts ran through your head as you sent Gojo silent daggers through the back of his head.

"Ya know I can feel you glaring at me from here, it wouldn't kill you to say thank you. You know.. for saving your life and all."

You snorted at this, "What you did was foolish, you are the strongest one here and yet you came on this stupid supply run and nearly died stopping curses I could have handled." You muttered the last part as you knew you couldn't have handled those curses alone, but you weren't ready to admit that yet.

Since the curses had taken over 5 years ago, the world had fallen into disarray. With limited communications and more people dying every day, the fight was hard. But this didn't seem to have stopped Gojo's infernal positivity, no he seemed entirely unaffected by the years and it was infuriating.

"Yeah sure Peach, you could have handled that all by yourself, forgive me for making an error in judgement. Next time, you handle the big bad demons all by yourself. " His words seemed more agitated now and his movements had become sluggish with every step.

You moved to stand in front of him, and he staggered as if he hadn't noticed you had even gotten ahead of him. "You're burning up, I think that curses blade was poisoned. Fuck." You sighed as he began to sway.

"Hmhm Peach I'm fine, lets just rest awhile yeah?" Gojo mumbled as he leaned his forehead further into your hand.

"No, we need to keep moving, come on.. Just loop your arm around mine and tell me something, k-keep talking to me," You insisted hesitantly as you began to pull Gojo a bit quicker through the muddy forest. Using what little reversed technique you knew to try and heal him. If you made it back, you needed to remember to thank Shoko for showing you a few tricks.

"I think that's the first time you've ever asked me to speak, rather than shouting at me to shut the hell up. Are you sure you're not the one with the fever Peach?" Gojo smirked as his steps began to match your pace but his weight noticeably leaned into you.

You laughed at this, just satisfied he was still walking and talking. The camp wasn't far, you could do this. Sure - It was only the strongest.. close to passing out in your arms.. Gods, what would the camp think if you got him killed? Then where would you all be, and a small part of yourself couldn't deny how awful it would be to not have his annoying optimism around all the time.

"I thought we were supposed to be talking Peach, " Gojo breathlessly said as he floppily turned his head to yours, his eyes hidden beneath the fabric on his head. "We are! We're all fine. Everything will be fine." You spoke more to yourself than him.

"Heh, I know it will be Peach" Gojo said as he began to walk with a bit more strength, "because I've got you. You really think any of us would be still here without ya saving us all the time Peach?" Gojo said as a lazy smile graced his face.

This was strange, Gojo and you tormented each other but you were sure over the last five years he had never acknowledged your leadership in the camp or how you tirelessly worked towards keeping everyone alive and stopping the curses once and for all.

You were silent in this, unsure what to say. "Why do you call me Peach?" You asked, wanting to steer the topic away from his strange vulnerability at the minute.

"Heh, I've always called you Peach. Do I need a reason?." Gojo laughed as he staggered slightly across a small fallen branch on the ground. You steadied him with your arm and pulled him closer, the camp wasn't far now.

"C-come on, just a bit longer Saturo.." Gojo seemed to wake at this, "What did you call me?" He asked in a hazy confusion, "Your name silly, we're nearly there." "Ye-yeah, right. Nearly there," Gojo muttered as you continued to walk, Gojo leaning into you still.

"I call you Peach because when we first met, before all of this, you were so shy and awkward. You would go pink as a peach whenever we spoke, but now.. you're so different.."

"Bad different?" You snorted as you glanced up at the tall white-haired boy.

"N-no, never. You keep us all alive, heh- I've never known someone so stubborn to fight for this world.." You held your breath, the only sound of both footsteps in the quiet woods to fill the air. Gojo sighed, the poison clearly fighting back against the healing energy.

"I guess it's just nice to hold on to something that could have been ya-know? Everything is changing every day and it can feel so scary, but if I can still call you Peach and maybe tease a lil, then I guess it's not too bad right?"

You glanced down at the ground, processing Saturos small confession. You always thought he was an arrogant fool, too powerful to understand what it was like to fear death every day. Too busy laughing and making jokes to understand the gravity of what you were all doing here, fighting back. But maybe you had been the one to judge too quickly, maybe this was just how Gojo coped with everything. Just how you leading the camp and fixing everyone, helped you feel a bit more in control.

"Come on, we're here. Shoko is going to pull that poison out of you and you'll be back to your usual teasing self." You said with an eye roll, dismissing the curious conversation.

"Hmhm..home sweet home.." Gojo muttered as he almost fell into the protective wall that kept the camp safe.

--------------------------------------------------------------

After dropping a babbling Gojo into the arms of Nanami and Shoko, you quickly made your way to the small 2 room quarters you had been provided many years ago. The camp consisted of a series of shacks and some larger buildings for a food hall, medical and defence, it wasn't much but it was home.

Now resting on the tiny beaten table in what could be called the living room, you tried to get comfortable as you poured over war strategies in books and any possible weapons for defeating curses.

A knock sounded at the old wooden door. Your head whipped around at the sudden sound, and the door began to creak open. Immediate panic ran through you as you moved for the cursed-infused dagger resting on the table and stood to attack. But as quickly as you were standing, the door opened fully and a mop of white hair bobbed into the room, ducking down, clearly too tall for the shack's rickety door.

"Woah-woah, I come in peace alright, jesus, and I thought we liked each other now,”

Gojo laughed as he held his hands in the air and looked you up and down. His mask now abandoned and his captivating six eyes staring into your soul. You calmed your breathing, glaring at his back as you placed the knife on the table and Gojo slowly shut the door behind him.

"You ass! Can see you're back to your usual self now," You snarled, angry at yourself for reacting. Reading about war strategies and demons for two hours in silence would make any girl jumpy.

"So this is how you spend your nights.." Gojo smirked as he took in the worn shack filled with aged volumes and archives containing vital information about the war you were fighting, usually swapped between you and Nanami. Weapons scattered the floors and more clutter accumulated over the years. Small drawings littered the door of a long broken fridge, which caught Gojo's eye as he walked over to observe.

"Make yourself at home.." You muttered as Gojos eyes skimmed the collection of sketches from another life, along with some children's drawings. "Wow, you really are talented, seriously if art museums still existed this would be a home run." Gojo laughed as he picked up a splotchy painted drawing, clearly done by one of the small children you helped train and not yourself.

You snatched the drawing from his hand and placed it on the counter, "What do you want Saturo..?" You were so tired after being nearly eaten by curses, saving Gojo and pouring over those beaten books. You weren't in the mood for his teasing.

"Hey it's been a long day but um, I guess I just wanted to say thanks alright? I guess you saved both of our asses today and I appreciated it."

Gojo said awkwardly as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his muscles flexing through the tight t-shirt he now wore. You could see the lining of where the bandage ran around his ribs.

You were clearly sleep deprived if you were admiring Gojos muscles, you shook your head. Clearing the fog.

"Uh, yeah it's fine I guess. I mean you hah-you saved us first, and it wasn't much." You mumbled, feeling an awkwardness from the vulnerability again. You weren't used to this.

"I guess the Peach name still counts.." Gojo smirked as he stared at you and your slightly flushed cheeks.

"Ass" you muttered as you turned to sit at the table. As you sat down, Gojo started to follow but instead of sitting down on the other remaining chair, he knelt in front of you.

"Look I mean it, thank you. And I'm sorry if you don't think I take things seriously Peach, because I do, trust me. But sometimes it's nice to remind you that life can still be fun ya know?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed but Gojo placed a large hand on your thigh and pulled your body back to face his kneeling form. "You don't always have to be the strong one Peach. You deserve joy as well, you know... ”

And you didn't know what to do with those words, it was as if five years of pressure and fighting came crashing down on you all at once. You felt the breath be sucked out of your lungs at someone seeing you, and you were so tired. So tired of running, of fighting, of making the decisions. But you weren't ready to face that just yet, and you hadn't realised you had knelt forward, your face now so close to Gojo's who silently watched you.

Tears threatened to spill in your eyes but you couldn't deal with it, couldn't stand it. So you did the only thing you could, you kissed Saturo. His initial shock reflecting through the kiss, his lips unmoving against yours and it was as if time had slowed down.

And oh god, this was a mistake. What were you doing? Why were you kissing him, but then he was moving the hand on your thigh to grab at your hip and ghosting his other across your jaw. Parting your legs to lean in further on his knees he pulled the chair closer and kissed you back with a force you had never expected. He groaned into the kiss, which surprised you even further and surprised you how much you liked that noise from his lips, and how you would do anything to hear it again.

As his tongue pushed past your lips you let out a small moan and allowed him to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss. Lips crashing together, his tongue moved around your mouth desperate to taste more of you. The hand on your jaw now snaked into your hair as small mewls fell from your lips between breaths.

"Fuck Peach, you're something else.." Your arm moved around to his thick white hair as you pulled slightly and that delicious noise crept up from his throat again.

Gojo broke the kiss to stand but quickly pulled you up from the chair and began to scatter kisses all across your neck. Sucking lightly and nipping wherever he felt was right. His hands now stroking your hips, wanting to make this moment last forever. You let out small moans of pleasure at the feel until you needed more, "Hmhm Touru please.."

"Fuck Peach, say-ah-say that again," Gojo murmured into your neck as he roughly pulled your hips against his.

"Tou-hm-ru" you muttered as you began to pull at his arms, his hair, his neck. Anything, you needed to feel more. You needed more of him.

"Peach, let me make you feel good yeh? I can do that, let it be about you okay, Peach." Gojo whispered as he continued placing kisses across your shoulders. He said it so gently it made you feel sick, this was such a strange day but the contact felt so good and you just wanted to forget. To be that girl again from 5 years ago who had a secret crush on the Saturo Gojo and not the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

You pulled him to the room other room where a small bed was situated in the middle and nothing more. He nipped at your neck as he lightly pushed you down and then caged you in on top. Dipping back to your lips, tongues tangling against each other as you arched into him. Quiet moans fell from your lips at the light friction, your pussy growing wetter by the minute with each grind.

"Heh, so responsive Peach." Gojo breathlessly laughed as he nipped at your lip. "Can I make you feel good Princess, can I do that for you?"

"Hmhm, yes please," You muttered as your hips grinded into Gojos again. "Uh s-shit, I've wanted you for so long Peach" Gojo muttered as his hips thrust down in response, his cock now painfully hard in his dark pants.

Gojo grabbed your chin and moved your restless head to meet his eyes, "Tell me you want this Peach, tell me you want this and I'll make you forget everything for tonight" "Hm fuck, please Touru, need you," not allowing yourself to process his previous words.

Gojo didn't hesitate after that, scared you may take those precious pleas back. He continued to kiss down your body, pulling your vest over your head along with your sports bra. Suddenly you were brought back to reality and very aware Satou Gojo was on top of you staring at your full breasts as if they were the last Mochi on the planet. Feeling exposed, you made to reach for the blanket but he held back your arm with his own, locking you in as his head went down, his lips suckling at your nipple and then grazing his teeth across the puckered bud as moans filled the room. Pushing against his arm at the newfound sensations. His head bobbed up, those bright blue eyes staring into yours.

"Still with me Peach?" He asked with a smirk as you nodded, eyes rolling into your head as he dipped down to the other breast.

"Hmhm Turo, please-hm-need you, please" You muttered, impatient at the lack of friction. Gojo began to leave wet sloppy kisses down your navel as he slowly pulled your pants away from your legs.

Your wetness clearly visible in the light grey panties you wore, you arched up again, the cold air providing a frustrating relief. "Shit Peach, you're soaked. This all for me? I can't wait to taste you." You blushed at this and rolled your eyes, irritated at Gojos teasing but desperately needing him to make this ache go away.

"Don't make me beg Gojo" you said with little demand as Gojo began to place wet kisses down your thighs. Your breath hitched in anticipation. Getting so close to where you needed him and then pulling back to start again on the other side teasingly.

"Uh uh Peach, I don't know. If you're calling me Gojo, we clearly don't know each other very well. Should we really do this.."

Your thighs shook with anticipation and your wet pussy helplessly bucked at nothing as Gojos large hands grazed the soaked panties.

"Turo, I need you so bad. Make me feel good, make me forget, puh-leaseee" you whined, mocking his begging from earlier in the day, still breathless.

"That felt a little sarcastic but I don't think I can deny her any longer, " And just as you were about to ask who her exactly was, Gojo dived in. At first, pushing your panties to the side but then impatiently pulling them off and lifting your lower half into the air as his tongue met your folds. You moaned aggressively, sure the whole camp would hear you but you didn't care. Fuck he had a magic tongue.

And then his long fingers entered you, first just one and then another desperately curling to a spot inside that you could never reach with your own. You panted as he nudged your legs farther apart and groaned into your pussy as you clenched around him. "Fuck peach, you taste out of this world, why have you been hiding this from me?"

"Hmhm" Was all you could say as Gojo continued to ravage you and your high began to grow. You needed the release, needed him. Your hands found their way into his hair as you pulled, needing something to ground you as you felt you were about to levitate off the bed.

Gojo moaned as you pulled on his hair, his fingers now curling again and again into your pussy. Hitting that spot you desperately needed as he continued to make out with your folds, tongue flicking at your clit, and fuck it was too much.

"Toru, I'm going to-I ccan't, shit" You mewled as his hand grabbed your own to soothe you, and then it was happening. You were so close, so close to falling. You needed to cum, you needed it so badly you couldn't see, hear or feel anything else.

"Shit Peach, cum for me yeah? Cum Peach, cum, cum" and so you did, with a final curl of his fingers, you let go and came crashing down. Every muscle in your body spasmed as Gojo continued to suck on the juices leaving your body. You think you screamed but you couldn't remember, couldn't make sense.

"Fuck Turo, what the fuck." You cried as your body came down from the insane high. It had been too goddamn long.

Gojo looked as dishevelled as you felt as he emerged from your thighs, wiping his mouth across his arm and then sucking his fingers dry.

"God damn Peach, that was something else."

You mewled back, still struggling to catch your breath as you stared at the ceiling.

You glanced down to Gojo and you wanted more of him, you needed it. But you were so tired, your eyes blinking slowly as you made grabby hands to pull him back up. He was visibly hard and you wanted to return the favour but your limbs felt like jelly, still feeling fuzzy from the previous high. Exhaustion taking over you.

Gojo quietly groaned when you began to palm at his visible erection but he quickly grabbed your wrist to gently move your hand away. He instead pulled your body into his chest and adjusted the blanket onto both of you as he brushed the top of your head with his lips.

"Sleep Peach, you did so well," He whispered into your hair as your eyes finally fell shut, officially exhausted.

--------------------

Part 2?

I really enjoyed writing this so please lmk if you liked it, this is like my second smut so pls be kind !!

[frogsinflannel]

If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

Rated T | 9-1-1: BuckTommy | 2230 words

“So.”  Tommy smiles at Buck from his place between his legs, hands gently cupping his knees.  His teeth are showing, white and sharp.  

The callouses on his hands catch on the downy leg hair, and he rubs little, teasing circles with his thumbs.  Buck feels his face split into an answering grin, one arm tucked under his head and the other laid against his side, his hand resting on his stomach.  “So what?” he asks.

Tommy presses his mouth to the meat of Buck’s leg in a slow kiss.  There’s no expectation there, no heat, just comfort and ease and the reassuring warmth of skin on skin.  They’re both stripped down to just their underwear, in a soft, sleepy bubble in Tommy’s big worn-in bed.  The duvet Tommy has is a creamy, striped linen, and it feels cozy and gentle and good where Buck lays on top of it.  There’s something approaching luxurious about how comfortable the bedding is, how intentional Tommy was in choosing it.  Something about a thing used fully for its intended purpose, enjoyed and well taken care of.  Buck gets the feeling that’s how Tommy is with the things he has now: careful.  Thoughtful and attentive, and Buck feels envy for every object lucky enough to be tended to with his big, exacting hands.  

He gets to be one of those objects again now, and when Tommy’s thumbs circle again in a play of soft-padded kisses a shivery thrill tracks up his spine. 

“ So. ”  Tommy gives him a look trying too hard to be exasperation.  Buck spreads his legs a little wider.  See, he’s accommodating, too, making room for Tommy’s broad, broad shoulders.  “Did you like the movie?”

Buck laughs and with a mock-scowl Tommy pops the thick, elasticized waistband of his briefs.  It snaps in pleasant not-quite-pain against his skin and he wiggles his hips.  “The movie?  Uh.  You think I watched the movie?  Hey, let me remind you whose mouth was on whose neck.”

Tommy grins but hides it, scooting up and burying his face in the soft skin of Buck’s inner thigh.  He shakes his head, rubbing against him, and Buck feels the gentle scratch of his stubble.  “Don’t know what you mean,” he says.  Buck sighs, content, and rakes touch-hungry fingers through Tommy’s fluffy, bed-softened hair.  It’s another one of those things about him he missed so much.  “I mean, did I have my hands on some gorgeous guy?  Was I kind of distracted myself, marking him up?  Did I touch him so good he lost his mind a little?”  Tommy looks up at him then, and his nose scrunches as he beams, playful and teasing, waiting for Buck to give him an answer.

The hand in Tommy’s hair moves down to cup his cheek and Buck thinks–not for the first time–that he’d fall over himself for the chance to touch Tommy, to be in a position where Tommy could touch him.  He’s already made a fool of himself for this man, and chances are he’ll be doing it again and again.  “A little?” he repeats, lifting one brow.  He presses his thumb into the cleft of Tommy’s chin.  Tommy’s eyes are soft, worn-denim blue, and Buck watches them flick down to his mouth.  He bites his bottom lip, a tease, and feels a hot splash of satisfaction in his belly when Tommy’s gaze zeroes in on the press of his teeth.  “Don’t undersell yourself,” he says, and he keeps his voice low and intimate.  Soft.  “You touched him so good he lost his whole mind.”

One big hand slides up his stomach and taps an arpeggio from his ribs up to his collarbone.  There’s a blossoming spot of purple right at the base of his throat, and Tommy presses the tips of two fingers into it–a slow, gently building pressure, just enough for Buck to feel it.  He groans and tilts his head back, baring his throat.

It feels like another question, the way Tommy’s hand lays hot and heavy against his clavicle.  The way his fingers push bluntly into the bruising warmth his mouth had made.  He wants it.  Tommy knows he wants it.  But things are still petal-soft and new, they’re re-learning the way they fit together.  Even in Tommy’s careful hands, it’s a question that needs an answer.

Because Tommy deserves to be tended to.

“Feels good,” he says, and his voice comes out rougher than he means it to.  It’s hoarse, a half-whisper that still sounds loud in the quiet of Tommy’s bedroom.   

“Yeah?”  Tommy glances up and their eyes meet.  He looks so pleased, his mouth crooked up and the corners of his eyes creased.  Then his gaze travels down–slow, slow–to fix on the point where his hand touches Buck’s skin.  Awareness and expectation start to rise and Buck feels the prickle of goosebumps up and down his body.

“Yeah.”  Buck swallows.  He wonders if Tommy can feel the bob of it.  “It’s like… like a memory, but better.  ‘S not the same.”  He groans when Tommy’s presses in with a touch more pressure, when Tommy’s body shimmies up and Buck can feel him warm and solid against the inside of his thighs.  “I can remember how we were the only two people in the theatre—because come on, Tommy, it was a shitty movie, you know this.  A-and how you let me put my arm around your shoulders because I was trying to be smooth, and you didn’t say anything even when I wasn’t.  You smiled about it and then turned so I couldn’t see it.”  He swallows again, working himself up and wanting Tommy to hear what he was saying–god did he want Tommy to hear it.  He cups the back of Tommy’s head and bends one leg, bracketing Tommy in with the mountain of his knee.  He thumbs at Tommy’s earlobe, scritches gently at his scalp.  “You wore your special cologne that I know costs more than you say it does, but it smells so good.  And even when I couldn’t see you, because the theatre was too dark, when you leaned in close it brought that scent with you, and I knew you were there.”  He gentles his hand and lets his fingers brush through the short hair.  “I knew you were there.”

“And then I kissed your neck,” Tommy murmurs.

“Uh-huh,” Buck agrees.  He shifts his hips, knows that Tommy can feel that he’s getting hard.  Knows that they’re not going to do anything about that yet.  “You kissed my neck.  I… I felt your teeth but you never bit down.  I felt when you sucked.  When you…”  He lets out a long, breathy exhale and he presses his knee tighter in to Tommy, wants to keep him right where he is for as long as he can.  “When you left a mark.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tommy asks, and his eyes are so dark and his mouth is set and Buck knows what it looks like when it’s soft and open and wanting.  

“Yeah it hurts,” he says.  He lifts his chest, arches up as much as he can into Tommy’s fingers.  “It’s supposed to.  I want to know it’s there.”

Tommy sucks in a breath and then, quick for somebody as big as he is, he lifts himself and shimmies up to cover Buck’s body with his, blanketing him strong and solid and warm.  He presses a pleading kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth.  It tastes bittersweet.

Their legs press together, Tommy’s hips fitted neatly into the cradle of Buck’s pelvis.  He hooks an ankle over Tommy’s calf, keeping him snugly in place, and then brushes a hand down the length of Tommy’s spine, landing softly on the small of his back.  He runs a finger along the line of his underwear, knows if he looks down he’ll see it clinging to the curve of Tommy’s luscious ass.  They’re so close, stacked on top of each other, and Buck never wants to leave.  He has Tommy, right where he wants him.  And Tommy is there, choosing to stay.  “Wanna remember you were there.”

With a huff, Tommy presses his face into Buck’s shoulder.  Hiding.  “Don’t say shit like that,” Tommy says, his voice muffled in Buck’s skin.

“Hey.”  He pinches his side and Tommy squirms.  “Honesty, right?  We’re saying what we mean?”  His fingers dig in further and Tommy grunts, nuzzling into him and then pushing the point of his nose into the crook of Buck’s neck.  “Well… I mean it.  I like thinking about how much you want me.  That you couldn’t even wait to get out of the theatre before, uh.  What was it you said?”  He feels it as his mouth curls up, and it takes restraint he doesn’t usually exercise to keep from sliding his hand down to grope or pushing his hips up again into Tommy’s.  “You got your hands on some gorgeous guy.  Gorgeous you said.”

Tommy hums.  “Maybe I was exaggerating.”

Buck covers his hand and cranes his neck as much as he can.  He slots his fingers between Tommy’s and then guides both their index fingers to press again at the almost obscenely large hickey on his neck.  “Huh.”  He feels it and feels it and it’s such a good sort of pain.  “Your enthusiasm suggests otherwise.”

A teasing slant of teeth nips at his collarbone.  It’s meant to distract him, he knows, but he’s got Tommy right where he wants him.  He wraps his arms around him, holding him tight.  The trap’s been sprung.  Tommy lifts his head, looking with mild curiosity at Buck’s needy grapple with one eyebrow raised.  “Well.  Maybe gorgeous isn’t entirely wrong.”

Buck grins big and wide.  

Tommy’s eyes darken.  “Yeah?  And maybe, if he asks really nicely—”

“Hey.”  Buck clears his throat, waits until he has every last speck of Tommy’s attention.  “I love you.”

Tommy’s mouth goes slack.  It’s not the first time he’s said it, but those few occasions have been precious, usually during something intense.  After getting back together and airing out their issues.  During sex.  He waited until now, until a moment of easy calm, because he wants Tommy to have to hear it.  He wants Tommy to know how much he means it.

He blinks and Buck can see him reeling back.

“Hey,” he says.  He squeezes once, then loosens his hold.  “I love you,” he says again.

“That’s…”  Tommy breathes out and Buck’s arms fall away a little as he props himself up to hover over Buck.  “That’s a big thing to say for one love bite, even if it is some of my best work.”

“Maybe I’m just grateful I get any of your work, even if it turned out to be your worst.”

“If you really want to thank me…” Tommy starts, and his voice is light.  Buck knows this game, he can already feel the deflection coming.  Tommy pets over Buck’s chest, lingering on his nipple and then a tattoo.  “You can put on that jock I know you’ve got in your bag and we’ll see if my work can’t improve with the right motivation.”

Buck shivers and he knows Tommy catches it.  He can’t help it–because Tommy’s right, he’d come to spend the night prepared, and maybe he’d wanted to encourage those large, masterful palms.  He is proudly aware that his ass is excellent motivation.  But this is important enough for his heart as well as his dick, and he shoves all the horny thoughts aside.  “That sounds… really damn good,” he says.  “And I want that.  I do.  But right now I want to cuddle, and digest that awful movie, and tell my gorgeous guy that I love him.”  He leans up and kisses the first part of Tommy he can reach.  “And I do.  I love you.”

For a long moment, Tommy is silent. Buck focuses on the warmth of him seeping in, on the soft bedding against his skin, on the buzzy ambience of the room around them.  There are still the faintest traces of his cologne lingering on Tommy’s body and he breathes in, trying to catch those, too.  He wants all of Tommy.  He wants his best work and his worst, the smell of him and the weight of him, too.  He wants to find all the cracks and stick his fingers in, see if they come out bleeding from the sharp edges.  He’s never known when to leave well enough alone.  He doesn’t want to leave Tommy alone again.

“Okay.”  Tommy breathes out and lowers his head.  His eyes are closed.  Buck wants to kiss the thin skin of his eyelids.  Very slowly Tommy starts to press down.  His body covers Buck's.  His weight starts to sink in.

Buck lays sandwiched between Tommy’s heavy, scarred body and the soft foam mattress topper covered by a fresh cotton sheet.  The pressure of that body brings a clarity he doesn’t often feel.  He drank a full glass of water.  He remembered his meds.  He doesn’t have to hold so tight when Tommy is the one keeping him pinned down, unable to get away.

“Okay,” Tommy says again.  He speaks against Buck’s skin.  His voice is soft and Buck can feel the words even better than he can hear them.  “Okay, Evan,”  he says.  “Okay.”

Read @ AO3

Song Inspo / Fic Soundtrack:

[marlynnofmany]

Cave Space

The mechanic’s shop was the loudest and dirtiest place I’d seen on this space station so far, and somehow that was comforting. All the ritzy retail stores and elaborate restaurants tried to look as fancy as possible, even the cheap ones. But this place felt honest and straightforward. It had bare concrete floors and the kind of shelf displays that didn’t bother with signs to actually explain what you were looking at. A real mechanic would know.

I had no idea, but I was just here to help haul things. Blip and Blop might have been a better choice if the things in question proved to be heavy, but they were off wrangling jumbo tubs of food and medical supplies with Eggskin, and anyways we had the big hoversled this time. It would probably be fine.

Mimi was talking fast with an employee about manifolds and vents and lots of other words, waving a couple green tentacles while he stood on the rest. The employee was the biggest Heatseeker I could remember seeing, which was still only mid-rib-height on me. He reminded me of the short gym guys from back home, able to build muscle in every direction but up.

A box thumped onto a counter near me. “You here to help lift and pull?”

I found an older human woman grinning at me, wearing a tank top covered in grease and long white hair held back in a ponytail. Also the kind of arm muscle that said she yanked engines out of spaceships for fun.

“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “Gotta make sure nothing falls off the sled.”

She waved a hand. “Ah, we’ll strap it down for you. There’s enough ramps around here to cause problems if we don’t.”

“I bet,” I said, thinking back to the last time I’d chased something important down a hill. “Don’t want to risk any explosions or chemical spills.”

“Or slamming a gear shaft into the side of a building,” she agreed. “There was a bit of a mess the last time someone was sure they didn’t need their stuff tied down.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it’s standard procedure now,” she said, opening the box to pull out multiple smaller boxes, all labeled with arcane terminology and numbers. They rattled as she stocked them on the shelf under the counter. “If they’d asked me, it would have been standard from the start, but what do I know? I’ve only been doing this kind of work for decades, on more planets than I care to count.”

“Sounds exciting,” I said as she finished stocking. “I haven’t been out here all that long by comparison, but there’s always something new to see.” A glance around the shop took in rows of alien technology, a Heatseeker with scales painted silver, and one of those centipede-like people whose species name I didn’t remember. I was pretty sure they were looking at a jetpack display.

“Oh sure, plenty of weirdos out here,” the woman said easily, ripping tape off the box and flattening it. “Though it’s easy to tip over from marveling at the wonders to feeling the kind of intense homesickness that you get when you’re light years away from home.”

“I suppose so.” I’d been pretty lucky on that front, since my alien coworkers were friendly sorts who made me feel welcome. But there were times when the sheer amount of empty space between me and Earth was a little too much to think about.

“You’ve got to find ways to remind yourself of where you come from, and take pride in it,” the older woman said with a pointed finger, like a grandparent giving career advice. “Recreate bits of home while you’re far from it.”

I thought back to the potted plants and sun lamp in my quarters, kept high enough that the cat couldn’t chew on them. “I like to think I do that,” I said. “Do you have a preferred method? Classic Earth songs, googly eyes stuck in funny places?”

She barked a laugh. “Ha! Nothing I’d admit to. But I’ll show you my current favorite touchstone to humanity.” She dug in a pocket.

I stepped closer, curious, as she pulled out something palm-sized. She rested her elbows on the counter and held it up, framed by splayed fingers with appropriate drama.

It was a rock, smooth and shiny like it had been polished by a river and then by a thick layer of varnish, and it was covered in minuscule handprints. All in earthtones, like a cave painting reduced to pocket size: some in silhouettes like tiny hands had pressed mud or ash against the cave wall, and others shadowed by color like the prehistoric artist had chewed charcoal and spat it carefully around their fingers.

(I’d done that in school one day, with one of the cool teachers, who taught us the basics of humanity’s oldest style of airbrushing. It was incredibly messy and trickier than I’d expected. It gave me renewed respect for the artists from eons ago whose artwork had survived into modern times.)

And this was that same thing, made small enough to carry around the galaxy, a tiny reminder of home. “That’s fantastic,” I breathed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked, rubbing at the shine. “I got it from a traveling artist awhile back. If I was in a different line of work, I’d sell clothes with this pattern on them. It’s the kind of thing that makes other Earthlings smile.” She stood up and put it back in her pocket with a wink. “Not like googly eyes, but still good.”

“Yes, still good!” I agreed, smiling. I would have liked to talk more about it, maybe find out where that traveling artist had gone, but Mimi was wrapping up his conversation. A door opened to admit a trio of Heatseekers carrying a huge cylinder that was probably destined for somewhere in the guts of our ship.

“I’ll get the tie-down straps,” said the woman, rummaging under a different section of counter.

“Thanks,” I said, though I don’t think she heard me. The air was full of talk and the sound of clawed feet on concrete. I hurried to take up a position by the controls of the hoversled, making sure it stayed locked in place.

The team worked quickly, and in no time they had it strapped down well enough that it wouldn’t budge even if the gravity cut out completely. (Which had better not happen; I’d had more than enough of that kind of nonsense at the last station.)

Mimi processed the payment, tapping a screen with one tentacle tip and thanking the employees for having this whatsit in stock. I got the impression that it wasn’t the one he’d actually come to get, but it was better in some way or other.

“Thanks again!” I said as we tugged the sled toward the door. I waved at the other human and she waved back, two hands signaling kinship briefly across the room. Then she took her flattened box into the back and I stepped out into the artificial sunlight, looking for signs leading back to the spaceport.

The gravity behaved, and the ramps were no trouble. Blip and Blop were there to help unload the thing. I asked Mimi if he wanted three people to maneuver it into wherever it went, or if I should go put the hoversled away.

He was busy climbing inside of the cylinder with a flashlight, for whatever reason. “Nah, not enough space for everybody,” his gravelly voice echoed. “Let me just — really? Another one?” A faint squeak sounded like he was rubbing a tentacle against the side.

“What is it?” I asked, bending to look inside. Blip and Blop crowded behind me, a jumble of curious muscles and silks.

Mimi grumbled, “This is the third engine part that I’ve gotten with these annoying marks. All from different sources, too. If I ever find out which finger-having species is doing it, we are going to have words.”

Deep inside the cylinder, in a spot that likely would never have been seen by anyone but an agile mechanic, was a patch of handprints. Mimi had already smeared the ones made in grease, but the others looked like they might have been paint. All in earthtones. A cave painting in the depths of a spaceship.

Blip and Blop chorused, “Not it.”

I bit my lip to hide a smile. “It’s a mystery.”

~~~

Inspired by this excellent artwork by @letmeinimafairy! It deserved at least one story, if not several.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[nodoubtily]

MMMM THE WAY-

Fuck. The way I’d actually showcase my cunt to him.

TW:// smut so mdni! Switch!Sunoo x Switch!Fem!Reader, p in v, dirty talk, degrading as fuckkkk, possessiveness, talks of edging but not really detailed, not proofread as this was written at 1:11 am. UPDATE: proofread at 3:28 am

Not your fucking good boy.

“Please-“ he begs, his hands scrunching the bedsheets because you so cruelly won’t let him touch you. And normally he’d be a brat, but he actually wants to fucking cum.

“I don’t know. I feel like you can beg better then that.” You giggle, so happy he’s under your control. “You wanna cum?”

That question opens up a barrage of frustration-filled cries of desperation.

“Yes, oh god- please!” He begs as your hand speeds up around his shaft again before quickly letting go completely, denying yet another orgasm.

“Not good enough. Do you not want to cum? You don’t want to finally release?” You’re laughing, feigning a shocked expression.

“What do you fucking think?” His question stops your wrist moving, but he doesn’t really flinch. Instead, his larger hand grabs your wrist and flings it away from his cock, before moving up to your arm as he manhandles you under him. He straddles your stomach, annoyance covering his face. “Asking stupid fucking questions as if I haven’t been begging.”

He grabs your (his) shirt, pulling it off your body. Thankfully, you’re only wearing panties under, so your pretty breasts are on display. He then moves off you, ripping your flimsy panties off. You, out of instinct, go to close your legs when he wrenches them open, sliding himself in between, his hot throbbing cock resting on your clit.

“Sunoo- you’re not being a very good boy-“ your breath hitches as he slowly starts grinding over your crotch. “Right now.”

“Do you really think you’re in the position to say shit like that? I suggest you keep that dirty mouth closed before I put it to good use.” And for some reason, that shuts you up.

Sunoo pulls back far enough where his cock doesn’t touch your folds, until his fingers spread you entrance wide. With a quick thrust, he slams his dick straight in, quickly bottoming out. You exhale a whine elicited with pain mixed with pleasure. He just straight up groans.

“S-sunoo!” You gasp out, adjusting to him.

“Fuck, how is this pussy still so tight?” His voice is laced with whimpers he’s not afraid to let out.

“M-move.” Your hips don’t even get the chance to create fiction until Sunoo lowers, one hand clamped around your throat while the other comes to your face, fingers mushing your face as he stares into your soul.

“You aren’t making decisions anymore. All you can do now is lay here like the obedient slut you are and take my sensitive cock. It’s your fault I’m like this now.” After that, he begins moving, hips thrusting in short sharp japs, the sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filling the room. “Edging me, trying to make me beg as if I’m your fucking good boy.”

“You ar-are.” Your voice cracks, airway limited due to his hand grasping your neck like a necklace.

“And yet you’re not my good girl, are you?” The question irks you, wondering the last time Sunoo was like this. One particular thrust sends desperate vibrations straight to your pussy, clamping your walls tightly around his cock. “Fucking hell.” A breathy moan escaped from his chest. “This fucking pussy- is mine. All. Fucking. Mine- oh fuck.” Every word is followed with a hard thrust, jolting your body. “Who’s pussy is this?” He asks, feeling you squeezing him, signalling you’re going to cum shortly.

“M-mine.”

Sunoo stops moving, taking away the warm pleasure that’s been building. “Say that fucking again. I dare you.” His voice sounds dangerous, and you know better then to egg him on more. So you stay silent. That wasn’t going to suffice him either. “Who’s. Pussy. Does. This. Belong. To?” Short stabs abuse your g-spot. Pride and wanting to cum fight, but the latter wins.

“you. This p-pussy is yours.” More whines escape from Sunoo’s throat as he continues to relentlessly pound into you.

Sunoo scoffs. You went from smirking to begging quickly. “That’s right. Mine.”

@jyikeu THANKS FOR THE IDEA POOKIE

[hauntedhokage]

𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵

Caleb/F!MC

...There’s a joke sitting on the tip of your tongue, wanting to ask if he was going to perform a security assessment of your room to check for wanderers, but this doesn’t feel like the time to make a joke. Not when he’s looking at you like there’s something wrong. 

word count:4.2k

warnings: fauxcest, unprotected sex, noncon into dubcon into ???, somno, coercion,

ao3 | masterlist | ko-fi

Me

7:05am

No rain checks this time, right?

Caleb 

7:32am

Gran won’t forgive me if I do. 

Caleb

7:33am

You wouldn’t either, hunter 

Me:

8:02am 

Don’t you forget it 

With a satisfied smirk, turn your phone over in your hand, staring at the apple that was his chosen profile picture. It had been months since you last got to be face-to-face with Caleb; the space between you in your everyday lives giving you time to agonize over that last meeting to the extent that you feared it being awkward considering. He hadn’t acted like anything was wrong, which lulled your building anxiety as you texted and called each other over the months since then, but you weren’t fully confident that it would stay normal when you were standing in front of him again. 

His kiss was so sweet, hands careful as they held your cheeks to keep you close to him. A kiss that had been shared after a few drinks while seated on your grandmother’s rooftop, a kiss that you weren’t too tipsy to have just imagined. Every time you’re on the phone with him you think about it, considering the way he breathed “thank you” against your lips when he’d pulled away, and how he didn’t seem to want to let go of your hand when you parted ways in the hallway so you could go to bed alone. 

Neither of you talked about the kiss, anyone around you wouldn’t have ever guessed that something like that had happened. The next day it was teasing as usual, gentle poking and prodding with quips exchanged throughout the day that made your grandmother laugh at how much you two would never grow up. 

But unfortunately you had grown up, and actions like rooftop kisses usually had consequences or at least some kind of result. There was none provided by Caleb, and you were too afraid to chase the results for yourself. The question of why lingered, the answer to that you weren’t sure you wanted, as a case of a tipsy mistaken identity or just satisfying curiosity wouldn’t make you feel any better. Your feelings for Caleb were complicated, but you weren’t against any romantic feelings that may have emerged, and you certainly didn’t want him to make you feel like he wanted you just to not actually want you. That would potentially ruin your entire relationship with him, and a lifetime of memories would be impossible to push down in the event that you had a falling out with him. 

So you never asked why. 

Not the next morning or any day after that, you chose to let the question burn in hopes the embers would gradually die out and you could move on.

But when he meets you outside the Association building you feel the fan threaten to feed the flames in your heart. Especially when he smiles, pulling you into that uniquely Caleb bear hug that’s coupled with a kiss to your head as he tells you how beautiful you looked. He doesn’t let you go when the hug ends, his hand carefully taking yours acting as the fan pushing more oxygen to feed the flame inside you. 

The entire trip he makes sure to have a hand on you; his hand in yours as you walk to the tram station, an arm around your shoulders to keep you close to him as you ride the tram to the stop you needed, his arm around your waist for the walk to your grandmother’s, and he ended the night strong with his foot constantly bumping into yours at different angles as if he was trying to tangle your legs without her noticing what he was up to. You didn’t even really know what his goal was, since the way he talked to you hadn’t changed nor had he said anything about why he would suddenly want to be so touchy with you. It was possible that something had happened during his own training, maybe he’d gotten hurt or something had happened to someone he knew. 

He’s even nearby while you’re brushing your teeth, watching with interest from the doorway of the bathroom while you brush and floss. He’d kept you within his line of sight since you met him outside your office building, his eyes scrutinizing your every move and capitalizing easily on where you’d left space for him to get closer. You wished you knew what he was up to, or what he wanted from you that required him to be so close. It was to the point where you’d figured out that it was specifically pine that you smelled on him, and that your body temperature had gone up a degree courtesy of him being a consistent heat source mere centimeters away from you. 

It’s near impossible to get settled in your small childhood bed, having the constant feeling of his gaze burning holes into you from the doorway as he watches you get ready for bed. The quiet chuckle when your phone charger slips through your fingers while trying to plug your phone is met with a middle finger before you’re reaching to pick it up again. 

There’s a joke sitting on the tip of your tongue, wanting to ask if he was going to perform a security assessment of your room to check for wanderers, but this doesn’t feel like the time to make a joke. Not when he’s looking at you like there’s something wrong. 

“Are you okay, Caleb?” You ask tentatively, trying to break the tension between you before it suffocated you both. 

“I…” He trails off, breaking his gaze away from you and shifting his weight to lean against your doorframe. He considers his answer carefully, hands fumbling in his sweatshirt pocket as if he can make the words materialize that way - but a moment later he finds the words that he’d been looking for. “I don’t really want to sleep alone tonight.”

You don’t hesitate to pat the space beside you, smiling with an unspoken offer that was accepted immediately. If you could support Caleb tonight as he’d supported you up to this point; as a friend, protector, and confidant, it would only be but a fraction of repayment for the lifetime he’d supported you through. 

But why did there feel like some sort of finality had settled in when he shut the door behind him? You didn’t feel trapped by any means, but you had a sinking feeling that there would be something different about this night - something that you might not be able to bounce back from easily. 

“Get comfy,” you instruct, watching over your shoulder as he slides into bed behind you. A few little adjustments are made before he’s draping an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You do your best to shake the unsettling feeling, but your concern about his well-being was increasing with every second spent beside him, gnawing at your psyche with every breath that fanned against the back of your neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Caleb?”

“Just wanna be close, is that a crime?”

“No, of course not. You’ve just been… touchier than usual, is all.”

“I missed you,” he mused as he nuzzled into your back. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Of course I did, goof. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

He only chuckles as you settle back into the bed, your back flush against his chest and your head tucked under his chin. 

“Goodnight, princess.” You hear the grin on his face, he knew you didn’t like being called “princess” now that you were an adult, but it’s not worth fighting him on. Not now when he’s tightening the arm around your waist to ensure you don’t wiggle away in protest. 

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

That unease you felt earlier had melted away with his idle chatter about his continued Deepspace Aviation training and how convinced he was that his commander didn’t like him because he was funnier than her. It’s remarkable how quickly you’re able to fall asleep with him holding you so close; your usual nightly routine includes scrolling on your phone for at least an hour until you finally started to doze off, but with Caleb there you think it was only fifteen or twenty minutes until you had to set your phone down on the nightstand because your eyes just couldn’t jeep themselves open any longer. He’s made some faux-disappointed quip about how you couldn’t hang anymore in your old age, something met with a mumbled reminder that he was older than you, something that is brushed off with a chuckle as he kissed your head again. 

“Sweet dreams, princess. I'll see you in the morning.”

Your dreams are indeed sweet, so sweet in fact it feels almost real to have a soft pressure against your ass, carefully grinding into you with a hand idly palming your breast. You dream of fingers that dip beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts in search of your pussy, trailing painfully slow until they finally make contact with your aching clit, swirling it gently and pulling soft moans from your lips as you lean back into them. You don’t know whose hands you were dreaming of, hands that skillfully explored your figure in search of your orgasm, but you know that you needed a dream like this after the busy few weeks you’d had. 

“That feels good, huh, princess?”

You weren't dreaming of Caleb, you couldn’t be. That was wrong on so many levels considering how close you were to him, but perhaps it was the fact that you’d known Caleb since you were children that brought him into your dreams? The brave and bold boy that’d signed himself up to look after you, the man who knew you better than anyone else, your best friend- how could you think of anyone else when he was right there?

The kiss to your shoulder followed by a gentle bite is too real, and you’re trying your best to pull away so you could try to get a better grasp on what was happening, but you were truly caged against your best friend as his fingers continue to explore between your slickening folds. 

“...Caleb?” You question, blindly patting along your side to try and find him in your bed. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh, you’re waking up.” He seems amused, his voice a mumble into your shoulder that has you blinking a few times to try and focus your vision. 

Were you not supposed to? When he was grinding his hard dick into your ass and fondling every inch of your body? Were you expected to simply sleep through it? 

“You’re touching me, Caleb.”

“Yeah, just wanted to feel you, y’know?” There’s no apology, no remorse, just continued rubbing of those fingers against your clit that has you struggling to keep your still heavy eyes open. “Gonna let me feel more of you?”

“Caleb, I-“

“You trust me, right?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder when you nod. “Trust me like family, yeah? Almost like a big brother?”

Those weren’t words that should turn you on more, but instead your thighs are squeezing together around his hand. And you know he knows, the deep hum that vibrates into your shoulder tells you exactly what you need to know: he was just as into this as you were, if not more. 

“Want your big brother to take care of you, yeah?”

“Grandma’s room is-“

“We’ll just have to be quiet then, you can do that, right?” 

You nod eagerly, earning yourself another kiss to your shoulder before he’s instructing you to get your sleep shorts off for him. When they’re off you feel skin against yours, meaning that he’d had his cock out this whole time, and the way it slots so perfectly against your ass had you biting your lip as you tried to picture what it looked like. It felt longer than any cock you’d taken, not too girthy so you’re currently not intimidated by it but that could change depending on how the night progressed.

He guides your leg up to hook around his knee, and you jolt at the feeling of his cock closer to your entrance than you would’ve liked. He shushes you as if you were a frightened child, assuring you that he was just rubbing right now and nothing else. 

The first pass of his head against your clit has you leaning back into him more, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet despite the pleasurable friction. His fingers make their way back to your clit, joining his cock in its teasing, and your hand balls into the fabric of the sweatshirt he wore as his free hand moves to cover your mouth to ensure that your noise would be kept to a minimum as his fingers worked against you faster.

Your body feels tight, heat blossoming from your core as he continues to push for you to find that release with his fingers. You want to tell him that you’re close, encourage him to keep touching you like that and never stop, but you trust that he knows every thought that races through your mind based on the way his fingers move faster against your clit to push you over that edge. 

It’s almost as if you’re ascending, weightless against his chest as Caleb carries you higher using just his fingers and the friction of his cock sliding between your folds. You’re so close, just teetering on that edge, only for him to stop. 

His hand leaves your bud, the one still positioned over your mouth muffling the disappointed whine that leaves you as your hips rock back into his to seek more of that sweet friction. 

“Hang on, princess,” he murmurs, kissing your neck before he starts to move around you. “Wanna look at you more.”

It’s easy for him to maneuver you both so he was kneeling between your spread legs. His cock rests against your mound, weeping pre cum that leaves a dewy trail as he grinds into you. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” The whispered praise has your face burning hot, another symptom of the fire Caleb had lit and tended to for the last few months, and you know that he knows the effect his words have on you by the way he grins. But he doesn’t say anything to feed the flames, just leans in to kiss you again and again with every grind into your sensitive core. Amidst those kisses lie his permission and request for you to cum for him, a request that comes with more intentional guiding of his cock to your swollen clit and friction that works against your conscious mind to cast a hazy overcast in your brain. Just as you feel that waves begin to crest, you feel probing against your pussy that brings your focus back to where Caleb is now sitting up and stroking his cock as he rubs the tip between your slick folds. 

“What’re you doing?”

He looks up at you with that same smile, confident and coated with a feeling of deception that you just can’t shake but feel so guilty for putting onto him like that. 

“Relax, princess, just feeling you more.” He’s trying to placate you, sneaking in another kiss that blocks your vision of what his hands are doing but you still feel the blunt head of his cock poking at your entrance. 

“Caleb, no, we don’t have any protection,” you mumble against his lips, your hand grasping his wrist to stop him from lining his cock up. “We can’t-“

“Just the tip, princess. You've got me all worked up. It's going to feel so good, I promise." He coaxes with a chaste kiss to your lips. "You'll let me make you feel good, right princess?"

It wouldn’t really hurt anything, that much you were confident about, so you nod your consent to his request and smile when he thanks you with a kiss as his hand pushes his cock to your entrance. The blunt tip stretches you open a bit, and he shushes you as he spits into his hand so he can stroke the length left unattended as he rocks just the head of his cock into you. 

“Be good and quiet for me princess, if Granny finds us she won’t let us visit at the same time anymore.” 

“This is your fault,” you remind, breathless, and earning a grin from him as he shrugs. He’s right, and you know he’s right, but you couldn’t help that he was stretching you open in a way you weren’t ready for therefore this was his fault you were struggling to be silent as he continued to push his luck with your body.

But then his rocking becomes a thrust, and you look up at him unimpressed when he gives you a whispered apology before pulling out again. His tip goes back in, and he keeps going, but his hands catch yours before you could try to push him off. 

“Caleb, you-“

“I promise I’ll pull out. You feel so good for your big brother, let me make you feel good too.”

He hadn’t spent a lot of time prepping you for this, so when he pushes in before you can give a real answer there’s an uncomfortable stretch that has your eyes shutting tight and your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to keep yourself quiet. 

“It’s almost in, princess, you’re taking me so well.” 

His hands release yours to grip your hips tightly, keeping you still as he continues to push his length in. You didn’t think it all would fit, but his assurances that he’d make it all fit have you clenching around him - pulling a small string of curses from between his grit teeth. “Don’t get us in trouble.”

You weren’t trying to, but what did he expect when he just forced his length into you like that with just your slick and no effort made to stretch you out? Were you supposed to just accept him forcing his cock in with no resistance? 

“S’big Caleb,” you whine, hands gripping his wrists as he finally bottoms out. “Too big.”

“No, see?” He removed a hand from your waist to splay his large palm across your stomach. “ I made it all fit, so it can’t be too big.” He’s proud of himself, one hand releasing your hip so he can hold yours in a firm grip. “My cute little sister just has a tight little pussy that we’ll have to stretch out a bit more.”

“It hurts, Caleb.” You plead with him as hot tears prick your eyes at the intrusion.

He grins, and you swear it’s a predatory look in his eye that you catch in the moonlight as he says, “You’ll get used to it.”

Perhaps you were just a rabbit caught in a trap, something elaborate that the wolf above you had orchestrated for his own gain. But this was Caleb, someone you did trust like family and had loved like a brother –those lines now a bit blurry but a bridge to cross later–  so thinking of him as a predator felt wrong. Caleb as a wolf in sheep’s clothing felt impossible; he wanted the best for you, and would never take advantage of you, that much you trusted. 

“Feel okay?” He asks after a moment, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours and causing a shift inside that had you whimpering. “I bet you feel great, huh? All full of your big brother’s cock?”

You don’t know how you feel. Everything about this is too slow for your liking, since it doesn’t lessen any of the discomfort you feel any faster, but your bed frame is creaky and you couldn’t risk your grandmother finding you two in such a compromising position. She’d always treated you both like her grandchildren, commenting always about how you two acted like fussy siblings, this would be a mortifying ordeal for all parties involved if she’d stumbled upon this scene occurring on the other side of the wall. The discomfort now was much less than the discomfort you’d feel for the rest of your life should you be found out, and the way he kisses you distracts from that but not enough that the feeling is gone - you just didn’t know what you could do about it. But he doesn’t wait for an answer that you can’t give; in true Caleb fashion he just acted, pulling his hips back so he could push them back towards you. It doesn’t feel as good for you as it sounds like it does for him, his pleasured grunts and groans being swallowed by your kiss. 

“Breathe, baby, otherwise you won’t relax.” His whispered advice feels more like a taunt, but you know that he’s right. 

If you didn’t relax, this would only continue to be uncomfortable and he didn’t seem at all interested in stopping until he was ready to stop. Caleb was getting what he wanted, and you were struggling to remember what exactly it was that you were wanting from him. Was it this? Did it make you a bad person if this was a situation you’d dreamt about once or twice? 

“Relax.” The reminder comes with a bite to your jaw, his teeth tugging at your skin to pull your attention away from your thoughts and back to him. “Said you were gonna be good for me.”

“I am.”

“Good girls breathe and relax when their big brothers tell them to.” 

This time it’s you who brings him in for the kiss, hoping that his mouth would keep you busy enough that you don’t think about what his hips were doing. He was right when he said you’d get used to how he felt inside you - but it quickly became so much more than that. It was as if he’d carved a hole for himself in your core that could only ever be filled by him, as if anything or anyone else would be too cold to keep that fire inside you fed and blazing.

He was trying his best to keep himself quiet, the kisses turning into bites that would leave marks that would be difficult to explain - something to worry about in the morning when you see just how bad they look in the light.  A creaky bed could be excused by a restless night, moans through the wall could not, but you won’t complain about the mess he’d be leaving behind when this was all said and done - both on you and on the sheets when he finished. The thought comes as his thrusts increase in pace, and you know that you’re going to have to remind him of his promise.  

“C-Caleb, you have to pull out.” You push against his shoulder, even trying to pull at his hair to get him away from your neck so you can get eye contact. To no success, however, as he’s still fucking into you with no clear intent to stop until he was ready. You feel his cock pulsing inside you, the culmination of everything that you shouldn’t have done fueling those flames burning in your core to a white-hot explosion. 

“Caleb, pull out!” He likely couldn’t hear you over his own groan that vibrates along your skin when he bites down, your own pained whine when he breaks your skin louder than you would have liked but the dread at potentially waking your grandma is overtaken by the mortification at Caleb doing what he promised he wouldn’t do. 

“Fuck, princess,” he breathes, kissing at your shoulder in an effort to soothe where he’d bitten. “You’re going to have to borrow my sweater to hide these.”

“You didn’t pull out!” You hiss, swatting at his shoulder as he pushes his weight into you to keep you flush against him. “You liar.”

“You just felt so good, ‘m sorry, princess.” 

The lazy grin tells you that he wasn’t sorry at all, and you cross your arms over your chest as you continue to glare up at him. He’s unfazed, to be expected since he’d never been upset when you were bothered by what he thought was a little thing. This was going to be minor to him, not worth getting mad over since it was already done and over with, the evidence plugged inside you by his softening cock. 

“You like it when I lie to you, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Why would you think that I like that?”

“You think I didn’t feel you cumming when you told me to pull out the first time?” 

Your cheeks burn, and you watch with wide eyes as he carefully pulls out of your sore cunt. He’s incredibly proud of himself, and you’re trying to be mortified at how correct he truly was but you know that you can’t hide from him or yourself. 

“Now let me kiss you better, baby.” 

There would be a lot to unpack regarding the last half hour, and whatever was to come of this event with Caleb. The fake sibling thing, the coercion, the touchiness, that first kiss months ago - it seemed like a lot but you knew he was going to make it so simple and assure you that there was nothing to worry about at all. You weren’t really siblings, so there wasn’t anything technically wrong with it despite a question of morality that wasn’t yours to answer. 

He’d take care of you, that’s what big brothers did.

[punkypiscesell-writes]

when it comes without a warning - ch. 1

chapter 1 - previous chapter

Javier Peña x plus size f! reader

summary: You meet a stranger at a New Years Eve party, not knowing where that chance encounter might lead.

warnings (updated after each chapter): fake dating AU, strangers to lovers, romcom, 90’s vibes, angst, small town dynamics, slow burn, pining, insecurities, drinking, smoking, food related descriptions, family mentions, mention of pregnancy, cynicism about love. The picture in the header is just for the visual and isn't an indication of the reader's skin color. Not beta read. If you see any broken Spanish, please let me know!!

word count: 9.4k

notes: Here we go, chapter 1! I hope you enjoy it <3 I will be updating this story each month, the final chapter coming out in July. The next update will be on Valentine’s Day.

dividers by cafekitsune

When you were a child, you watched a movie every Saturday evening with your mom. They made you think your life would follow a specific path. Go to school, graduate, you’d find a boyfriend who you’d someday marry and have kids with.

You’d buy a house somewhere quiet with a big garden and a picket fence. The kids would grow up and you’d watch them become their own people while knowing you’d always have your first love with you. You’d look at pictures that would span years until those would turn into decades, with the same people in them getting greyer and wrinkles all over their faces. It would be perfect.

What you didn’t understand back then, was how life doesn’t usually go like in those picture perfect stories. Rarely it’s wrapped neatly with shiny paper and finished off with a flawless bow.

You watched your friends find their first loves while you became a wallflower. You didn’t know what to do in life while others were making decisions about their futures. One by one your old friends moved away to chase their dreams, forgetting the people and memories back home. With the need to get out of the town where you grew up in, like your friends had, you realized you could turn your hobby into a job.

Chasing a dream makes people optimistic and the possibility of having your own story unfold like in one of those movies you used to watch with your mom seemed possible again. You kept your eyes open, even dared to step out of your wallflower persona, full of hope and enthusiasm. When your story still kept you waiting, you understood how chasing love doesn’t always mean chasing romantic love.

In the glimmer of a big city, you found new friends. Abigail, Eileen and Mary were actually interested in talking with you and getting to know who you are outside of being just someone’s friend. They already knew each other having grown up in the same town, but you fit in with them like the last pea in a pod.

“What’s holding you back, you can move anywhere!” Mary drunkenly encouraged on the night of your graduation, while the humidity of Austin bathed you in sweat.

“Yeah, you can start a bakery anywhere!” Abigail offered you her glass to pour more tequila into. How she said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world, made you laugh, and you thought she was joking until you realized she wasn’t. She was far from it.

“And then what? Just rot in some dying town until the end of my days?”

The seed was already planted though. They had a point. You could start a bakery anywhere if you wanted to and you could find help with the business side of things, especially in the beginning.

When you sobered up and you were sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool leaning your elbows against the kitchen island in your small, hole in the wall kitchen. You started to plan it. The more you planned, the more convinced you were you could make it work.

The movies you watched while growing up rarely had people move into a small town with a population of only a few thousand when they could move into a big city and keep those big dreams alive.

You bought a small space for your bakery from a building that used to have a restaurant. Mrs. Sánchez has a flower shop next door, and she has always been supportive of you, even when for a while you were the “new girl” in town. The whispers around you and your business were excessive, but eventually the whispering turned into actual conversations with you, rather than about you.

You had your best friends being part of their family businesses. Your bakery started to bloom. You were in control of the strings in your hands and all the puzzle pieces were clearly laid out, all of them locking into place.

“We want you to clear your schedules next July,” Noah begins with his soft voice, his calmness the complete opposite to Abigail who is hanging from his arm.

“We’re getting married y’all!” Abigail yells and pulls her hand from her fiancé, flashing a big, shiny ring for the guests to see. Your face drops as an excited shock washes through the room of Noah’s family’s luxurious farmhouse that they’ve had since forever. The high ceilings echo the eruption of cheering and clapping with the sound of glasses tinkling together in toast. You raise yours and smile, your feet rooted against the floor.

Your best friends. You look at them fawning over the ring, the smiling couple surrounded by their closest friends.  

“Finally, everyone knows!”

“Now we don’t have to hide it any longer!” Eileen and Mary laugh. Your smile doesn’t falter, it doesn’t even flinch. But it’s like a cold shower that runs down from the back of your neck to the bottom of your spine. Abigail’s eyes flash to you after the women have said the words out loud.

You used to be a part of that group of best friends. In the last couple of years they’ve turned into people you sometimes hang out with. The frequent dinners and game nights at each other’s places first turned into occasions that happened once a month, then into once every six months when schedules and life got in the way.

First it was Mary, who announced she had reconnected with her high school sweetheart. Then it was Eileen who found her boyfriend through Mary’s boyfriend. For a while it was just you and Abigail, the two of you against the world. You were bridesmaids to Mary, then to Eileen, then Mary got pregnant and Eileen right after her. You and Abigail held the fort as the only single women in your group.

And then suddenly it was only you. Their lives are different now, as is yours. You’re not in your early twenties anymore, naively finding your way in this world. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve chosen the right place for you, but you’ve also understood that you might not want the future with the house and a picket fence, a husband and kids and the pictures on a mantelpiece. Your best friends want that while you’ve chosen another path.

Then, before you can delve too deep into other existential questions, you remember a cake order that has to be filled next week or how you have to make one more batch of the new malted wheat sourdough bread because your customers are emptying your shelves before 8 am.

“So, what do you think?” Abigail catches up to you after you’ve congratulated the pair. She reaches her  left hand towards you and wiggles her hand.

You hold her fingers and twist them gently. The rock sparkles in the champagne hued light of the farmhouse. “It’s beautiful,” you smile.

“Noah chose it himself, with the help from my mom. I can’t believe he managed to do all that and I had no idea!” Abigail sighs and pulls her hand back to marvel at the jewel around her ring finger.

You sip from your drink, the alcohol almost a welcomed friend in the full house. The atmosphere is electric from the unexpected news. The music is turned even louder than it already was. The New Year is only a few hours away and you don’t see the party dying down anytime soon.

A little quiet wouldn’t do you any harm, especially as someone keeps bumping against your back, and pushes you to give them more room.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Abigail pulls you to the side, somehow managing to find a corner that isn’t occupied.

“I’d love to ask you a favor.” You’ve always been impressed by her ability to make her eyes so innocently big, pleading in a way that is caring and can make even the coldest person believe whatever she says is their own idea.

Abigail lifts her hands to your forearms and squeezes with a smile that reminds you of a child you saw at your shop yesterday after he had seen the experimental chocolate and peanut cupcakes you had made. After seeing his face, you might bring them back when you have an overstock of the ingredients, just to see that same kind of enthusiasm again.

“Remember that cake you baked for my 27th birthday?” Abigail asks. She doesn’t have to remind you. It was an elaborate white chocolate vanilla cake with raspberry compote filling. You topped it with handmade chocolate decorations that you created after work, the hours stretching closer to 20 spent in your bakery that day. Your back ached and you were stressed because you wanted the cake to be perfect. It was all worth it.

You nod. “I’d love it if you could make our wedding cake. We’ll of course pay, unless…” Abigail smiles with her lips tightly shut, the apples of her cheeks glowing.

“Unless you want me to give you a wedding cake as a wedding gift?” You fill in for her, the idea cracking your smile.

“Yes! Oh my God, it would be perfect! I’d be so incredibly lucky to have your creation at our wedding. It would be so special!” She grabs at you and pulls you into a tight hug that crackles against your tight shoulder where the muscle has been burning for the past week.

“I think we could make it work.” You swallow, defeated by your inability to say no to Abigail. One wedding cake. It’ll only be one wedding cake, among the other wedding cake orders that flow in during the busiest season of people tying the knot.

“I also have one other thing in mind.” You immediately prepare mentally for whatever she’s going to ask from you next.

“At my wedding, I’d love for you to bring a plus one.” Your mind goes blank.

“What?”

“The wedding is still six months away, so you have plenty of time. I just don’t want to see you alone there!” Abigail laughs and rubs at your arms. It has been a while since you wore anything else than your comfy clothes at home or your work uniform that consists of soft cotton T-shirts all in creamy white, tucked in your jeans and under an apron. Your friend running her hands up and down against the fabric on your arms, the blouse is suddenly coarse and too hot.

“I don’t have time for dating,” you remind her.

“You never have time for dating! I think that’s not true, you’re just afraid of finding someone and falling in love. That’s okay,” Abigail’s tone is encouraging, but her words sting. She’s not wrong. Of course you’re scared, you’ve never really dated anyone. The only dates you’ve been to were either pity dates set up by your high school friends or a few failed first meetings with guys who had been your customers at the bakery and who now only visit when they have to get something special for their girlfriends and wives.

“Fear not, you’re meeting someone tonight,” your friend’s eyes glimmer mischievously.

“What?” You hiss immediately.

“Noah has a friend who’s single. We think you’ll like him a lot.” Each of Abigail’s words is emphasized by a nod of her head or a poor attempt at a wink.

“We?”

“Eileen, me and Mary of course, silly,” she whacks at your arm playfully. Her cheeks blush while your stomach is heavy with dread.

“I really don’t think it’s a great idea. Also, I don’t need a date, it’s a wedding, it’ll be fun no matter if I have a date or not.”

“Bullsh–,” Abigail shushes herself and makes sure no one heard her. Her eyes soften to the level of pity. “It’s okay for you to find someone special, we all have. You’ll love it when someone takes care of you and pampers you and you won’t have to be alone anymore. You want to get married, you want a family! You’ve said it yourself, remember?” She laughs and tilts her head.

“Yeah!” You hope she doesn’t hear the doubt in your voice.

“We’re making sure you’re not going to end up alone.”

“What do you have in mind then?” Abigail turns immediately from you and leaves you standing next to the huge Christmas tree still fully decked and deeply green. You see her long, blonde hair swinging as she makes her way through the crowd. The curls at the ends are perfect. You smile at an older couple and wish them a happy New Near under your breath as they pass you by, a suspicious look in their eye while you try to keep track of Abigail.

You don’t have to wait for long. You see her first, then a tall man in a crisp white button down shirt behind her. He eyes you up and down immediately, his eyes blue and hard. You can’t read the look he’s giving you, but it’s not pleasant. He makes you nervous.

“Here’s John,” Abigail announces with a smile, and a hand that she waves down from his shoulder to midriff. You’re cornered between Abigail, John and the Christmas tree. The man nods his head and keeps his eyes locked on you while you notice the drink in his hand, a glass too gentle to be held in a death grip like his.

“Noah always calls him Johnny,” She proudly pats him on the shoulder and pushes John closer to you. The wall bumps against your back.

“He doesn’t,” John argues. His face twists in confusion, while his words are drowned by Abigail’s enthusiasm.

“Noah always tells good stories about John, how they’ve known for years, and how reliable he is. And you’re both into…” Abigail smiles, her eyes a little empty. She looks at you and massages John’s shoulder with her bejeweled hand. The engagement ring sparkles in the soft lighting of the family home. “You’re both into business! You’re entrepreneurs! I think you might have interesting conversations in the horizon,” Abigail chirps and finishes the last note with a smile that reveals her perfectly white teeth. Something catches her attention. Her eyes get larger, and her cheeks burn bright red. Noah stands close by with some of his friends, deep in conversation.

“Oh, excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” she points somewhere towards the crowd of people and disappears into it with a wave of her hand, in the opposite direction from Noah.

You stand awkwardly next to just as awkward John. He smells like aftershave from 30 years ago. It’s not completely unpleasant, only something you can imagine he got as a regifted present on Christmas. It’s warm, a little spicy, and a little too musty. He might like it, or then he wore it to keep unpleasant people away. You sip at your drink and try to take a step back without John noticing. The wall is in your way.

“We should sit down,” he tells you. You stare at his back when he leaves you standing alone, and only turns around to check if you’re following when he has found a couch end for you both to sit on.

He sits on the sofa with his legs spread wide. His face is smug, borderline conceited, when you make space for yourself next to him. How did Abigail, Mary and Eileen ever think you’d be into this guy? You try to relax, sip on your drink and smile at John. He smiles back. Maybe he’s not as bad as you’re making him out to be in your head. You don’t know him. Maybe your friends have a valid reason to believe you two could hit it off.

John pushes his leg against yours, seeking physical contact. You pull back from him immediately and lock your inner thighs together to keep yourself as small as you can. Your jeans aren’t tight but the way you’re sitting makes them dig into your skin.

“So…” John begins and drinks from his glass.

“So…” You repeat awkwardly, waiting for his next move.

“You want to hear how much money I make? I know women like to hear that. You don’t seem like an exception.” Your smile tightens, it’s a mask. The contents of your glass would be perfect on this guy, maybe he’s even begging for it.

“Like Abigail said, I’m an entrepreneur…” he talks in a monotone voice, reading off an invisible script. You don’t really even care if the mask on your face slips, not when John drones on and on about his savings, his investments and how he wants a stay-at-home wife to take care of the kids and home  while he’s working.

“My business will become massive in the next ten years. Yes, I plan ten years in advance. I recommend it to everyone who…” you drown John’s voice into the different voices around you. He’s like the perfect candidate for people watching.

Abigail and Noah’s parents are standing in one corner of the room, with lighthearted looks on their faces. Noah’s brother is leaning against a wall, looking bored as ever as he snacks on something from the snack table. Mary and Eileen are swaying to the music, pointing out different people from the party goers.

Abigail is with a man who you don’t know. She has her hand on his bicep, then she lifts it to his shoulder. Up and down she moves it, while trying to step closer to him. The man in a dark blue button up, his hair combed to the back with a few fly aways sticking out on his temple, a well-groomed mustache moves over his top lip, knows when to take a step back and shake her hand off him without seeming rude. Is she drunk? Abigail straightens the man’s collar. Her hand lingers on it, her fingertips touch his neck before she pulls her hand back.  

You’ve seen the man before. You’ve caught him staring at the pastries and bread in the bakery window a few times but he hasn’t come in.

“… You do for work?” The question is already fading. John’s tone is cool, almost as uninterested as you are. The distant look in his eyes isn’t helping to get you more invested in his monologue.

“I have my own business.” You answer, even to you in a too formal tone.

“Oh, what kind?” John leans forward, a spark of interest on his face.

“I have a bakery downtown.”

“Ah.” John scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. “That’s a risky business endeavor. Have you thought about something else when this one bites the dust?”

You grind your teeth together behind the smile that you try to keep even remotely kind looking. You have to get out of here. You spot Abigail mingling with the guests, now with Mary and Eileen, who all turn towards you. Abigail draws a heart in the air with her index fingers and points to John. Miserably you turn back to him, who is still talking about different options for you.

“You could sell your business, cut your losses before they’re too overwhelming for you to handle.” Mary’s thumbs up don’t cover the murderous snarl you give them, your mouth twisted when you shake your head “no”. They’re back on the move, finding a quieter spot while laughing. You can hear it over the steady buzzing of conversations.

John has moved on from your imaginary bankruptcy to talking about his newest investments.

“Who handles them for you”

“Hmm?”

“Your investments, who handles them for you?”

“I haven’t really looked into it.” The bottom off your glass stares back at you, the rest of the alcohol now going down your throat.

“You should! Having a fickle business like yours isn’t going to keep you afloat for too long. Especially in a place like this. I could give you some recommendations on how to maximize your profits.” Your skin crawls. How satisfying it would be to yell at this man to shut the fuck up.

You don’t. You see the people around you, your customers. They have their usual orders, some have something else on a specific day, and some stick to the same baked goods day after day. You know them by name. You remember the stories they’ve told you, how something you made was shared with a loved one and new memories were made. John doesn’t seem like a person who would understand the value of memories since they’re not monetary.

Your friends clearly don’t have any idea what kind of a man you’d want to be with. To be fair, neither do you. But John? Setting you up with someone who is as interesting as the worn-out, uncared-for leather of his shoes, at least you can say who isn’t your type.

Sitting next to him, his knee still bumping against you, making your skin itch, even when you try to keep distance to him, listening to him ramble on about investing and profits, your friends would be bored out of their minds in your place as well.  Maybe they haven’t spoken with John. Maybe they haven’t even met him before. Your fingers find your gold chain against your chest. Its dainty links run between your thumb and forefinger, the familiar trail soothing you.

“If you’re free tomorrow, I could give you some tips on finding–“

“Look, John,” you cut him off with the drop of your necklace back against your skin. “You’re… clearly knowledgeable about money, and someone might be very interested in hearing about all of this. But that’s not me.”

“What are you saying then?” He’s genuinely surprised.

“I don’t think we should explore anything further.” You let him down gently and give him an apologetic look.

“Okay,” he tilts his head with deep creases across his forehead. “I’m a bit surprised. There’s not many, if any, people paying any attention on you here. I’m a catch looking for someone to carry his children who will become the next president or congressman some day and you’re just a bakery keeper who clearly has let herself go. But whatever, I’ll respect your honesty.” He says it all with a smile on his face, the insult somehow meant to sound like a compliment. His brows rise and fall after every other word, like they’re part of the conversation too. You stare at him, your mind blank, your mouth with a life of its own.

“What a small man,” you say to him and stand up with a laugh. He says something more, but you don’t stay to listen. There’s nothing more you’d want in this moment than get away from this man and to refill your glass with the punch served here.

It splashes against the edges of your glass when you make your way to the balcony. You want to hide from the people inside the party. From John. He can think whatever he wants, you’re not fazed by his rudeness, by anyone’s rudeness for that matter. It doesn’t mean what he said didn’t hurt you.

The dusky balcony is the place to be, away from the golden lights, the music and people who apparently don’t even see you. An unreasonable fear rises from the back of your mind with an image of John chasing after you onto the balcony, telling you how great he is and how generous he is for even agreeing on a blind date with you. You’d need to understand how this night wouldn’t change his life, but it would still change yours.

There’s a lonely chair behind the corner, away from direct eyeline of the celebrations. There’s barely any light here, only a small lantern next to a flower arrangement on a small table next to the chair. You sit down and relax. The drink feels good, comforting, on your over stimulated nerves. Muffled music and people talking, laughing, puts a rift between you and whatever is happening inside.

There haven’t been many moments when you are truly alone and when you are, you usually invite it with open arms. What follows that alone time is usually a guest you rarely want to invite along. Being alone is almost easy, being lonely always chips away at your heart. At the belief that maybe there’s someone out there somewhere for you as well.

You’ve accomplished so much in the last few years. You can be proud of so many things you’ve made happen by yourself. At the same time, you have to admit that it has all happened because you’ve been ready to sacrifice something.

You go with the flow, but you’re looking in at your own life rather than living it. You’re waiting for something without knowing what that could be. Apathy follows the gentle buzz of the alcohol in your system. You breathe deep against the coolness of the night. At least your skin isn’t pouring sweat while wondering which turn you forgot to take at some point in life to find a missing, nameless puzzle piece.

A clink and a soft scratch of glass. You’re ready to tell John to leave you alone. Instead, your eyes meet the deepest of ambers, sitting on the other side of the little table next to you where the lantern and flowers have been arranged. Someone laughs inside in a way that reminds you of a breathless donkey.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry,” he says while pushing his glass further from the edge of the table, his voice deep, soft like a cloud.

“I didn’t know someone was here.” You’re ready to stand up, find another hiding place and leave this man alone.

“I should’ve said something.” You nod at his words, unsure of what to do. Maybe he wants to be left alone…

“You know the couple?” He asks, cutting your plans to leave short.  

“I’m friends with Abigail.” He smiles, acknowledges your words and presses his hand against his chest.

“I’m one of the groomsmen.” You smile a tentative smile back and hear the conversation between you two die down.

Even when you’re not talking, you find yourself glued to your seat. His presence is overwhelming. It draws you in, makes you nervous with curiosity. He’s looking out into the vast darkness facing the farmhouse, forcing the building to become a lighthouse in the quiet. Your left side, his side, is vibrating from his nearness. The little hairs on your arm stand up, reaching for him. There’s electricity in the air, zinging gently, a hum in your ear as you listen to it. Listen to him take a deep breath in and push it out with slow force.

He's the one Abigail spoke with earlier. The one with the mustache and dark blue button up. The one who you’ve seen stop in front of your bakery but never come in. The town gossip train would help you recognize who he is, but you’ve tuned that station off.

You hear about some things regardless, while some other things aren’t for your ears, you’ve decided. Maybe that decision would be different if you had grown up in a small town like this, your life filled with people knowing what is happening in other people’s lives.

“Do you mind?” His question is hushed. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, and a question in the quirk of his brow. You shake your head and watch him pull out a lighter. It flickers a golden glow against his face when he has the cigarette hanging between his lips. The embers light up and then go to rest when he takes a drag, the smoke in his lungs until he breathes it out slowly. The cloud hangs in the air and drifts towards you. You inhale the rich aroma mixed with burning sweetness.

“I’m quitting in the New Year,” he tilts his head towards you, his eyes like black embers fixated on you through his lashes, in the lowlight of the candle and whatever light streams from the window.

“And this is your last one?” Your voice tunes itself to the quiet smokiness of his tone without you trying.

“Last, or second to last, I haven’t decided yet.” He rolls the butt against his fingers and flicks it. The burning flecks distinguish in the air. There’s loud cheering inside, rattling against the calm atmosphere outside.

The man looks inside, his focus on the noise as well. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“Abigail had set me up with Noah’s godawful friend, I had to take a break. Apparently, I need a plus one for the wedding.”

“With who?” Another drag from the cigarette.

“John?” He nods at your answer, and blows out the smoke to the opposite direction from you.

“They’re not close, not really even friends,” the man muses and turns his eyes on you.

Like an electric shock, you have to turn away from him and stare out towards the dark. This man is intense, demanding in a gentle way, his attention on you and only you. He’s not filling a silence with useless noise, but with observing. You run your necklace between your fingers again, twist it around one and draw a line against your skin over and over.

“I think she just wanted me to find someone.” Wish that someone wasn’t a self-important dickhead.

“The wedding isn’t in months.”

“My friends know I need time to think, and to take it slow.” The man inhales from his cigarette again and raises his brows in what could only mean silent disbelief.

“What?”

“Just wondering why Abigail wanted to set you up with an asshole like John, everyone knows he’s a player.” His words pour on you like ice. The more you repeat the last part in your head, the more convinced you are it wasn’t a serious setup, but a foolish prank.

Maybe listening to the grapevine would’ve been a good thing at least once. You take a big sip of your drink and let it burn in your throat as you swallow it down slowly.

There’s more cheering and clapping coming from inside, pulling you to look in at the party as well. Abigail is standing in front of the guests, Mary and Eileen next to her. Abigail has a pouch in her hand, where Eileen is digging something from.

“And why aren’t you apart of that?” The man’s low voice rumbles slowly against your eardrums.

Mary and Eileen open something in their hands, small pieces of paper, and show them to the other guests. People, mostly women, erupt into gleeful joy. Bridesmaid and maid of honor. “I don’t know.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why aren’t you in there celebrating?” You turn the question to him with a determined smile tugging against your cheeks. You should’ve known you won’t be part of the wedding party, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It shouldn’t hurt. You cover it with the smile and hope it will ease the sting.

The man notices your attempt at directing the focus away from yourself. He takes one last drag and then stubs the cigarette against an ashtray on the floor. He blows the smoke from his lungs and manages to turn more towards you.

He spreads his legs in the rickety garden chair, but his point isn’t to establish dominance like John, but to slide down and relax in the too small chair in his snuggly fitting dark jeans.

“I had to take a break,” he repeats your answer back to you. From his mouth it’s vague, words that hold some other meaning that he’s debating sharing with you. “Abigail is busy playing matchmaker in there.” He tilts his head to lean his temple against his fingers, his elbow perfectly perched on the arm of the chair.

Him facing you, his chin lifted, the amber of his eyes flickering in the candlelight, draws heat to the surface of your skin. Your chest, the back of your neck, your cheeks. It’s annoying that this stranger can cause a reaction like it.

You want to defy it and push back. You face him as well, stare him right in the eyes. Lava splashes on you from your head to your toes. Your palms sweat and you swallow, still with a calm smile on your face. It has become your safety blanket that you can hide behind. No matter if it’s a true kindness or you’re killing someone with it, the smile is familiar to you now.

“She found someone for you as well?”

“She suggested it, but I turned her down.”

“And that’s why you had to take a break?”

“No, it was because of the other guests.” He looks away. A small victory you didn’t think you’d get. His answer stirs the win into confusion.

“Why?” A question you have no right to ask, out of your mouth before you even consider asking it.

He lifts his eyes back to you, the look in them warm but laced with a warning. It’s not your place to know. It’s a question too complicated in its simplicity, the answer even simpler, yet more complicated.

Two can play this game. Who hides better behind a mask? Who stays calm when someone tries to crawl under the other’s skin? He’s a master at it, catching you off guard, letting you think you had won him in the game he has perfected over the years.

You’re knocked off the number one spot and he figures it out immediately, when your smile cracks and you have to hide behind the excuse of taking a sip from your glass. There’s only a little left, one more mouthful and you’re done. You don’t want to see his victory, but you also don’t want to seem scared.

The look on his face isn’t victory. Instead, you’re met with a man who is deep in thought. His brows are lightly pulled together, defining the two small lines between them. His eyes are veiled, only a slight shine from the candle still reaching them. Yes, he won.

“Well, I think it’s my time to go.” He snaps out of his thoughts. The watch on his wrist flashes with the reflection of light hitting the glass face.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” He sounds almost alarmed.

You circle the drink in your glass a couple of times and see his glass on the table. You stand up, lean over the table and smile more to the empty glass than to him. “Happy New Year,” you say out loud and clink your glasses together. The sweet and sour taste is soothing and if you were alone, you probably would drink a few more to ring in the special evening.

“I’ll see you around,” you tell the man who follows your every move. He watches your hand as you place your glass next to his. He watches you wipe at the backside of your jeans to make sure there’s no dust on them from the chair. His eyes are burning against your back as you leave him sitting on the old, weathered chair.

Someone opens the door to the balcony and sticks their head out. Noah.

“Hey, have you seen Javi?” his voice is a little hoarse, joy on the corners of his eyes.

“Who?”

“Javier, dark shirt, jeans, brown hair…” the man’s presence appears on your back, lifting all the hairs of your skin again, heat coursing through you.

“I’m here,” his voice is like the stickiest and sweetest honey. It’s also much closer than you anticipated. You look over your shoulder. Javier is right behind you, his chest almost against your back. Noah’s face lights up, clearly pleased he found his friend.

“Is Abigail somewhere? I’m going to be heading out, I just want to congratulate her once more.” Javier stands still and manages to shake your voice only by being close to you.

“But it’s not even midnight yet, you should stay a bit longer,” Noah pleads, a relaxed slurring in his speech.

“I think I’m done for the night, just too tired to keep on partying. Thank you for inviting me and congratulations once more.” You hug Noah, genuinely happy for him. His tan skin glows with pure excitement.

“Can you believe her, leaving before midnight on New Year’s Eve.” Noah points his thumb at you, the jokey question directed at Javier.

“I know, almost like tonight doesn’t change anything.” His sarcasm makes you snort, and Noah fake a laugh.

“Abi is downstairs. Thanks for coming, and thank you for the gift,” he winks at you, the promised wedding cake now apparently confirmed.

Abigail entertains some older people, talking with them, sharing moments from how she met Noah and how he proposed. You barely get a word in and her answer to you leaving is: “Okay, I’ll call you.” before she’s back to talking with the people who have made her their center of attention.

Luckily Mrs. Sánchez is on her way out with her husband, taking you to town. You have one neighbor, living in the apartment on the other side of the corridor from you on top of the carpenter shop. You’ve met him plenty of times since you moved in six years ago, but you can’t for the life of you remember his name.

You’re already sleeping, groggy and confused when you hear your neighbor counting down from 10 with his guests, the cheering overwhelming even through your wall. Auld Lang Syne starts to play, and you lay in bed, staring at the blank surface of your ceiling. Not even the streetlights can light your apartment enough.

Maybe this year you’ll push yourself to enjoy your life rather than watch it pass you by. You make the resolution before you fall back asleep, barely remembering it the next morning.

Time ticks on even after midnight and the days after don’t create a limbo effect anymore when you go to work. It’s darkest when you wake up at 3.15 and head to the bakery thirty minutes later. The morning rises as you’re tipping proofed loafs from their baskets onto the floured wooden table for scoring. You’re trying a new leaf design, lashing the surface with a sharp blade that glides against the dough like butter.

When you’ve pushed the loaves into the oven you take the next trolley of bread from the walk-in fridge and under the zippered hoods you uncover what you made yesterday in preparation for today, buttery wheat loaves in their neat little rectangle pans. One trolley after the other you solve the walk-in fridge puzzle, pulling out hooded trolleys. Yellow hoods for sweet products, blue for savory.

“Morning!” Lili, your bakery assistant, greets as she walks in from the small locker room. Unlike you, who stayed up too late writing down ideas for Abigail and Noah’s wedding cake, her under eyes are bright and her voice clear after a well-rested night.

“Good morning,” you croak and clear your throat right after. Your shoulder complains as you fill in the vanilla tartlets, row after row of neat custardy pies waiting for a couple of slices of syrupy lemons Lili has prepared for them.

As the shop fills with the fresh loaves, rolls and biscuits, the last sweet things are baking in the ovens, filling the bakery and shop with a sugary, toasty smell. Butter, nuts, fruits, spices and chocolate, are like a dessert after the early morning savory baking.

You’re filling cream puffs when the doors open and the first customer walks in. You have the bakery door open but can’t see the shop from your sturdy work table. You can only listen to the sounds that indicate your work paying off.

The bell above the door tinkles constantly, people walking in and out with fresh goods in paper bags and bakery carton boxes, careful not to shake or mush anything that is even a little more fragile than the thick crusted breads.

Lili’s enthusiastic voice answers questions with a constant smile. “Yes, these have a hazelnut and chocolate filling.” “There is ginger and clove in the cookie dough.” “It’s the freshest today, but you can use the rest for bread pudding or French toast in the next few days.” “Sadly, that was our December limited edition cupcake, but we’re planning something for Easter.”

If she’s not answering questions, then she’s taking down orders and repeating every detail to get everything right. The free spots in your calendar for orders are filling out fast. You’re counting each one in your head after Lili repeats them, checking off the orders list you remember by heart. Someone asks for a wedding cake order for July, one already taken by Abigail and Noah.

“Mr. Peña is here,” Lili sticks her head into the bakery, pulling you from weighing ingredients for sticky cinnamon rolls. It’s eleven in the morning, you’re about thirty minutes early from your work schedule. The radio in the corner plays an older song softly, the words flowing from your mouth in a quiet hum. You wash your hands and check your face, wiping the remaining moisture from your temples as the ovens are finally cooling down. You take the small bakery box full of pistachio cream puffs from the fridge and take it to the register.

Seeing the shop full is always overwhelming, almost intimidating, especially when most look at you as they see you walking out of the bakery.

“Morning everyone,” you greet with easiness, the words wiping away your nerves. Mr. Peña is third in line, standing with someone who is looking at the small packets of chocolate confections that were leftover from your New Year’s specials.

You take one of the raisin and cashew loafs from the shelf and push it into a brown paper bag, and wheat knot rolls into another bag.

“Mr. Peña, what can I get for you?” Lili asks, her voice a little higher and squeakier than normal.

“Those ham and cheese muffins are looking fine today,” his voice rumbles. You smile to yourself as you pack a few lemon and poppyseed cookies into a box.

“¿Quieres algo dulce?” He asks his companion just as you turn with all the baked goods in your arms. You lay them on the table next to the register, Lili taping the muffin box closed and getting to work typing the prices as zero dollars.

“What’s this?” Mr. Peña asks under his brown, wide brimmed cowboy hat.

“You gave me the tip about Arnold’s shop, and he came to fix the oven right before New Year’s. It’s as good as new now. He also checked the other one, to see if it has the same problem with the wiring. This is the least I can give you as a thank you.” If you had ordered someone to come in from further, you would’ve paid a pretty penny for a simple fix that was done in fifteen minutes. You couldn’t be more grateful for Mr. Peña suggesting someone who he trusts.

“That was nothing, Sam is an old friend, he would miss his own funeral just to fix appliances,” he laughs and gives room for his companion to step next to him. Javier’s eyes bore into yours, a soft smile in them. He lays the little confection box on the table next to the breads and sweets.

“This is my son, Javier.” He pushes his aviator sunglasses into the neckline of his pink button up t-shirt.

“We met at Noah’s party a few days ago,” Javier says, making you nod along with his words.

“Oh! Well, then you need to know this little lady makes the best cream puffs in town,” Mr. Peña directs his attention to you. The smile lines get deep right by his eyes when the corners of his mouth turn up.

Javier hums in recognition, patiently watching you try to gather your thoughts. The two men look the same as they stand next to each other, the generation the only thing setting them apart. Javier seems to tower over his dad, his back straight and his shoulders wider with age pressing them forward for his dad.

“That’s a bit over exaggerated isn’t it, since there’s no other bakeries in town,” you turn the compliment into a joke, and your focus back to Javier’s dad to get yourself to calm down. Javier’s presence makes perspiration prickle at the small of your back.

“That’s why I said the best in town,” Mr. Peña jokes back.

“Exactly!” The shared laugh eases your discomfort. Why Javier makes you nervous, you haven’t decided yet.

“So, how much do I have to pay for these?”

“Nothing. Like I said, it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“No, of course I pay, this is too much.”

“Mr. Peña, you helped me when you didn’t have to. These are on the house.” The people behind Javier and his dad are starting to get curious about what you’re giving away for free.

“Please, call me Chucho, I come here often enough for us to be in first name basis. And I already know your name, have known it longer than you’ve known there is a ‘Mister Peña’,” he tries to mimic your voice but only makes it sound like a mockery of you. He mumbles “sorry,” under his breath, all forgiven with a smile you give him back.

“What about these?” Lili asks with a quieter voice, the confections in her hand.

“I’ll pay for those,”

“And that’s Javier, you can call him by his first name as well.” His dad says pointedly. In a way he reminds you of your grandpa and how warmly he too always spoke even when to teach you about something more serious, like how to ask nicely, or when you needed help with your homework, and he checked where you had gone wrong.  

“Chucho,” you nod your head towards him, “Javier,” you say his name and it tickles against your tongue. The other side of his mouth rises.

“Javier will pay for the candy, and I want a couple of those lemon things over there,” Chucho points in the display. The vanilla tartlets you worked on just a couple of hours earlier.

“Yo los pago, papá,” Javier mutters when you pick up a carton and fold it into a box, placing two tartlets into it. Lili is already ringing him up when you place the box next to her.

“Have you changed the products?” Chucho asks, looking at the display more carefully.

“There are a couple new things, like these blueberry swirl cupcakes and these hazelnut cookies.” You point them out for him and notice Javier checking out the items as well. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking out the favorites,” you nod towards the pistachio cream puffs that have become Chucho’s regular order. He winks at you, like a secret has been exchanged between you two. Lili packs all the goods into a paper bag and hands it over to Javier.

“Thank you,” Chucho tips his hat and drops money into the tip jar.

“Thank you,” Lili yells after checking how much he gave. You greet the next customers while leaving to go back to work, watching the pair as they walk out the door and to Chucho’s truck.

As the day goes on, the bell above the door tinkles less. The noises from people talking quiets down and Lili’s answers and order taking slows until there’s no more questions or orders to be made.

“Only a couple of cupcakes, cookies, and rolls left,” she informs as she joins you to help with dough mixing and making products for the next day. You work like a well-oiled machine that has been in use for a hundred years. You turn the radio a little louder and the both of you sing along to songs that you both know either from your childhoods or ones that have been playing nonstop since they came out in the last year.

“Can you make the puff pastry, I’ll make inventory and clean up the front.” You massage your shoulder, the pain burning under your shoulder blade.

The day is warm, warmer than usual, people wearing shorter sleeved shirts as they pass the shop. The air is humid, yet still dust settles on surfaces. You write in your notebook all the products sold, keeping note of the ones that have leftovers, before packing them in discount packets to get them sold before closing.

The industrial dishwasher rumbles on the other side of the wall as you’re wiping down the display cases. The door opens and the bell jingles, followed by footsteps that stop at the door. You look over your shoulder, the pink shirt on Javier like an alarm for your system.

“Hi,” you straighten your back and finish cleaning the glass.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” He takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his shirt again.

“No, no, we’re still open. Did you forget something? Or maybe Mr. Peña wanted something more? I’m sorry we sold out everything you got, tomorrow I’ll be selling more again.” Javier breathes out a silent laugh listening to you ramble nervously, his eyes landing on the empty shelves.

“I’m sure he’d buy more if there was some left, and you can call him Chucho.” You bend your head down when his eyes meet yours. “That’s not why I’m here for.” He walks over to the register with you on the other side. He places his hand on the table, curiously taking in the empty shop.

“What can I get for you then?”

“Have you had any luck finding a date for the wedding?”

“Oh,” his question surprises you. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can guarantee it’s not going to be John. Why?” He nods, watching your lips as they move around the words. He presses his hand into a fist, opening his mouth once, then closing it, contemplating whatever he has on his mind.

“I was wondering…” He stops, his lashes dark against the tops of his cheeks as he has trouble looking at you in the eye. Until he does and forces you to swallow against the sandpaper in your mouth.

“Noah said something… And I remembered what you said about Abigail wanting you to have a date… Being single at a wedding can be…” The broken sentences raise your pulse. “What if we’d go to the wedding together?” Your pulse pauses for a second until it picks up like a storm.

“You make it sound like someone’s going to pair you up with someone more awful unless you do something about it first?” You’re surprised how even your voice sounds even though pins and needles run up and down your skin and your insides are in a turmoil.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come off that way.” Javier shakes his head fast, his eyes flashing to you in fear that you’d understand him wrong. “My old man has been eager to know if he needs to know a name before the wedding. It’s a hassle if I won’t deal with that in time.” He almost manages to calm the tempest. You join his chuckling, imagining Chucho pressing his son about finding a plus one for a wedding where his friends are already paired off.

“Look,” you begin, forcing yourself to calm down and think clearly. “It’s a nice offer, but I’m not looking for anything, I don’t have time for it. Abigail setting me up at the party was weird and I’m not concerned about finding a date. I honestly don’t care what people say or think. She just wants me to have someone and not end up alone when she’s busy having brunches and dinners with her married friends.” Javier’s eyes narrow the longer you speak, your last words like icing on a cake for someone who observes as closely as Javier does. You realize how you make yourself sound pathetic and Abigail like an asshole immediately after.

“I’m not looking for anything either, I was thinking it more as an arrangement of sorts.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yeah. I have a lot of groomsmen, ah…” he looks for the words, “whatever wedding things coming up and I know I’ll be put between a rock and a hard place unless I have a date. We could go together, avoid the awkward blind dates and we’d let people know we’re each other’s dates.” What he means with him being between two undesirable options confuses you, but the possibility of Abigail setting you up with someone like John again is high enough for you to get interested in Javier’s suggestion.

“So, you mean we’d fake dating each other?”

He’s unblinking for a moment, until he inhales and pushes the breath out with a “I guess so.”

“Sounds like you’ve read too many romance books.” The lighthearted joke makes him laugh. “Don’t you think it’d be awkward?”

“If we’re okay with it, no, I don’t think so. We could get to know the basics of each other and that would be it. You don’t have to spend your time with me any more than you have to.” He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and places it on the table. “Think about it.” He pushes the paper towards you. You take it, and it’s still warm. He has written his number on it neatly, Javier with a swoopy J on top.

A couple walks in. The bell startles you both. Javier steps back and takes his sunglasses from his shirt.

“Let me know, okay?” He raises his brows in question, and you answer with a nod. The couple beelines for the leftovers, talking in hushed tones, while the bell dings and Javier leaves without a second look back.

“I knew we should’ve come sooner,” the woman hisses and huffs.

“We’re open tomorrow, if you’re looking for something specific,” you try to get back into the moment, but end up following Javier push his sunglasses up his nose and jog across the street to his truck before a car crawls past.

Never would you have thought a piece of paper could be heavy but here you are, aware of its existence in your jeans pocket under your apron. The offer is appealing, you can’t deny that. The thought of having someone steady by your side, people not asking if you have a date, mainly Abigail, and not needing to think about the whole date thing, would be a weight off your shoulders. You could focus on the more pressing matters.

The couple buys the bread rolls, one more tick for you to write into your notebook. You finish preparing everything with Lili and when you turn the lights off a the end of the day, your brain is fried from thinking what to do with Javier’s suggestion.

The hot shower at home is heaven against your shoulder, loosening the tense muscle. It doesn’t wash away Javier’s suggestion though. You dry yourself, and you wouldn’t have to think about a plus one anymore. You warm up leftovers from yesterday, and you wonder how you could relax around Javier who has the ability to get your thoughts and blood roiling. You sit on the couch and get hurt once more thinking about John and if it was all a joke for Abigail to set you up with him.

You dig the pockets of your jeans and find the paper, still folded in half, his handwriting against your fingertips.

“Peña,” you hear Chucho answer. His joyful laughter after you say who’s calling makes you smile as well.

“Don’t say you’re giving us more bread and pastries. I’ll pay for them the next time.” There’s rustling on his end before you have a chance to answer, Javier’s voice muttering something to his dad.

“Hello,” his voice is softer, less deep as his father’s yet still deep enough for you to have it rattle your spine.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, I got a new number a couple of weeks ago and I’m not used to using it yet, gave you the house number by accident.” If you knew him any better, you’d say Javier is nervous.

“That’s okay. I wanted to call and ask if you’re really up for it, fake dating?” he chuckles quietly, almost like he wouldn’t want to make his dad question why you’re calling his son in the evening.

“I’d still call it just an arrangement, but yeah. That’s why I asked you.” You grind your teeth together, nervous about what you’re getting yourself into.

“Okay, let’s do it then.”

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

-

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

[l-starlight-l]

The love of a Hero

The Hero’s Betrayal

Previous: masterlist

Warning: some light smutt but nothing crazy

Description: Jason pulls you into a closet at work and helps you blow off some steam.

Pairing: redhood x reader

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——————————————————————————

You had been on his mind constantly since he first met you. The way you smile and laugh. He thinks about your beauty and your brains. He is slowly falling in love with you and he knows it, but he’s unsure if you love him as Jason or the red hood. You don’t know they’re the same person but you still flirt with both. There’s been moments between you and “both” boys but that doesn’t mean your falling for them. He doesn’t think to much on it cause either way you would choose him and that’s all he wanted.

Arkham is buzzing today due to a failed escape attempt. There are so many people working that the huge building seems so overwhelmingly small. There are guards posted at every cell and a group of people you think might be engineers or maintenance workers, you’re not sure but they are all over the place. There hasn’t been a second you’ve been alone this shift and it is driving you insane. The job already takes such a toll on your mental health and this is making it so much worse. You didn’t even get a chance for a lunch break so you could see your favorite masked hero.

On the verge of a breakdown you practically run down a hallway looking for a quiet place to think. Suddenly a hand reaches out of a nearby closet and scoops you in. You panic at first and try to break free but realize there is barely any room to move. It’s to dark to see anything which makes your heart beat even faster. “Calm down, doc” a firimilair voice says.

“Jason?” You question, “what are you doing here?”

The voice freezes for a minute and then speaks softly “I was called in for a job, you were short a guard and I’m firmilar with the building”. You didn’t for second doubt that his story was true, you knew he was some sort of security personnel and trusted him with your whole heart.

“Why are we in a closet?” you ask feeling the warmth of his body against you, “a very small one at that” you litter to yourself. It’s not like you haven’t been this close to him before, the last time you guys hung out you slightly remember a drunken make out sess but this feels so much different. Maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in your system or the stressful day you’ve had. His hands grin your hips till the skin aches under his finger tips. “Jason?” You barely breathe out. You can’t see his face but you can feel him, you can feel the yearning in his body for you. Instinctively you lean up on your toes trying to find his face. You gently cup his cheeks, “what’s wrong?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t reply with his words but pulls you into him. You lips crash into his, the heat of his body suddenly overwhelming. You let him take control as your hands fall around his neck. You pull him in closer as the kiss grows more violent. His hands roaming up from your hips to hover around your breasts, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you in such a vulnerable spot. A soft moan escapes your lips muffled by the kiss and he takes it as a go ahead to finally grab you. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands massaging your boobs ignite a growing passion in your core. You forget where you are or what you were supposed to be doing and you only want more of him.

He lets out a low groan as your nails claw into your back, your hips grinds on his knee between your legs. The frictions making you melt faster into him. Your body yearns for a release and to feel his skin on yours. You can tell he wants it to as his movements become sloppier and sloppier. “Does that feel good?” he whispers into your kiss and all you can do is nodded as a moan replaces your words as your hips move faster against his thigh.

The moment is broken when you hear your pager beep in your pocket. You eyes open reluctantly and you sign so loudly that someone outside the door could definitely hear it. “I have to go” you say the disappointment heavy in your voice. He untangled the two of you so you can leave to do your job and he can get back to his. You open the door letting the hallway light in and look back. You freeze. That wasn’t Jason, it was the red hood. He was only wearing a simple domino mask, his hair was a mess. You look down at his swollen lips and then up to his guilty eyes with your widened ones. “What the hell” anger laces your voice as the words come out. Your pager beep again before you can say anything further. You give his one last hurt look before running away from him. In hopes to help you coworkers and maybe to also get away from him.

——————————————————————————

[itshonestlynotme]

✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡����𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”

“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.

Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”

“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”

Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”

Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”

She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”

Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”

“That’s why we’d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.

“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.

Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.

One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.

That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.

“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”

Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”

[pholla-jm]

The Number You Have Reached

IMAGINE: THE NUMBER YOU HAVE REACHED~ NANAMI X READER FEAT: YUUJI GENRE: ANGST warnings: major character death. not proof read. major angst... like I cried a little bit while writing. no happy ending ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The black slick heel clicks against the tile floor of your home. You stared at the clock in the kitchen. The neon numbers staring at you, mocking you of the time. 

He promised you that he would be home in time for your date. There was no reason for him to be late. He was never late. Which caused you to worry. 

With a sigh, you pull out your phone. With a single tap on the screen, it lights up showing up the home screen. A picture of you and Nanami. It was a simple picture, but it was easily one of the best days in your life. 

The sweet and savory smell of breakfast wakes you up. The thick duvet is immediately pushed aside when you recognize the smell of your favorite. It didn’t even click in your head that Nanami wasn’t in bed. 

You walk into the kitchen, immediately blessed with a beautiful view. The table was set up, two plates and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers as the centerpiece. 

Nanami stood in front of the stove only wearing dark sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His blonde hair was a bit disheveled and pushed back. 

You swear, you could take a bite of his biceps and be content. He just looked so delicious at this moment. 

Nanami hears your steps and he turns around to give you a smile. There was a certain light in his eyes, like he was excited about something. “What’s all this?” You ask, really hoping he wasn’t going to say anniversary. You would feel terrible if you got the date wrong. 

“Nothing special, just felt like making you breakfast.” He says and you hum with a smile. You look past him, seeing the plate of your favorite foods. 

“Yeah? And it just so happened to be crepes and fresh fruit? My favorite. I think you’re buttering me up for something.” 

Nanami shakes his head, grabbing the plate and bringing it over the table. “Would that be horrible?” “I guess not,” you walk over to the refrigerator, “juice?” 

Nanami stops you before you can open the fridge. His hands firm on your shoulders and he drags you to the chair at the kitchen table. “I got it. Don’t you worry about a thing.” 

You just smile at him, wondering what was really going on. 

He grabs the drink for both of you and finally settles down to eat with you. 

“Thank you for breakfast, it’s delicious.” You say after taking the first bite. Nanami hums in acknowledgement, and you can see that he is fidgeting with something. 

You look down at his hands- well one of his hands- stuck in his pocket. You could tell that there was something in there. 

Deciding not to beat around the bush, you ask him, “what’s in your pocket?”Nanami’s eyes shoot up at you and he chuckles, “always straight to the point… that’s one of the many reasons why I love you.” 

You could feel your cheeks flush at his comments, “what’s going on?” 

Nanami let out a deep exhale before standing up and walking over to your side. 

He suddenly gets down on one knee and your eyes widen. 

No… he couldn’t be doing what you think he is… 

“(y/n), from the moment we met, my world has been brighter. Every laugh we've shared, every quiet moment we've spent together, and every challenge we've faced side by side have only made me more sure of one thing: you are the person I want to walk through life with.” 

You could feel tears well up in your eyes as he spoke. 

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know this: I want to face it with you. I want to build a life together, filled with memories, laughter, and love. I want to be your partner in everything.

So I ask, will you marry me?” 

You don’t hesitate to give him an answer as he pulls out the small box. Opening it to reveal the elegant diamond ring. 

“Yes!” You push yourself forward into his arms, nearly knocking him over. But his arms wrapped around you, stabilizing the both of you. 

Nanami laughs in relief. He couldn’t believe that he was finally going to get married to you.

He pulls back, just enough to slip the ring onto your left ring finger. 

You stare in awe, the ring was beautiful and it fit just right. 

“Wait,” you say, grabbing the phone off the table, “I want to capture this moment.” 

The photo of you and Nanami stared back at you. Both happy and smiling faces. Your left hand rested on his cheek, showing off the engagement ring. 

With another sigh, you swipe up to unlock the phone. You click on Nanami’s profile, his phone ringing a few times before it goes straight to voicemail. 

“You’ve reached Nanami, I am unavailable at the moment so please leave a message after the beep.” 

You smile hearing his voice, so simple and to the point. 

The phone beeped, signaling to leave the message. 

“Hey, Kento, baby. It’s me. Well you know that. It’s-” you look at the neon numbers shining in the kitchen “it’s almost nine now. You’re never late. Just let me know if you're safe. Love you.” You click the red button, ending the message. 

Your head tilts back, looking at the ceiling. “Ken… where are you?” You whisper to yourself. 

Another thirty minutes go by and you decide to call him two more times. Again, straight to voicemail.

It was midnight now, and it now dawns on you that he was not coming home for date night. 

You head back to your shared room, and get ready for bed. He had to have a good reason as to not answering any of your calls or texts. Well he better… or he would have hell. 

Harsh knocking pulls you from your slumber. The urgency causing you to fall out of bed, the duvets and blankets getting tangled up. 

“Oh my god… who is this loud at this hour?” You ask yourself as you compose yourself to answer the door. 

You were hoping it was Nanami, since you noticed that he still wasn’t in bed. 

However, it wasn’t him when you opened the door. 

“Yuuji?” You ask, confused to see him at your door. You could tell that he was going through it. He was littered in cuts, and underneath his eyes were red. “Come in.” You don’t wait for him to answer. 

You know Nanami’s relationship with the young boy. 

Yuuji looks at you with pity, like something was weighing him down. He doesn't say anything though. He comes inside and you motion to the couch for him to sit. 

He sits down on the plush couch. “I’ll get you something to drink and a first aid kit.” 

“No. I’m okay.” 

It was the first words to tumble out of his mouth. You could tell that his voice was heavy with pain. You give him a look and sit next to him. 

“Okay… why are you here then?” 

Yuuji tense up, his fist balling up in his lap. Just thinking about him brought him in great distress. 

Tears started to well up in his eyes again and the silence was starting to thicken the tension in the room.

You could feel something was wrong. 

“Yuuji…” his name comes out in a softless whisper and it causes him to flinch, “where’s Nanami?” 

Yuuji chokes out a sob just from hearing his name. And that was all you needed to hear. 

You didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be right. 

You couldn’t even bare yourself to comfort the young boy on your couch. You lifted yourself up from the couch and went to your room.

Yuuji flinches, his eyes squeezing shut at the sounds of your sobbing and wailing. Truly broken and full of sorrow. He didn’t know how to comfort you himself. He really did want to go to your room and comfort you. But how could he if he was grieving and coming to terms to reality. 

So he did the only thing he could think of. He stood up and left. Leaving you to grieve on your own.

You sat on the floor, next to Nanami’s side of the bed. Tears streamed down your face as you gripped the blanket that belonged to Nanami’s side of the bed. 

Your hands were shaking and it honestly felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

All you could feel was a sense of grief, but there was a hint of something else. Anger. Anger towards the jujutsu society. How could they allow him to do something like this? On top of that, they couldn’t even tell you of his death. 

A kid had to deliver the news. 

That night, for the first time in many many years. You cried yourself to sleep. 

“You’ve reached Nanami, I am unavailable at the moment so please leave a message after the beep.” 

His voice echoes in your head as you stare off into space. 

It was the only way you could hear his voice. So you kept calling his number over and over again. Just to hear his deep voice. It somehow brought you comfort. Only for a while though. 

It held no real meaning afterall. He wasn’t really speaking to you. 

It was just enough to keep you down on earth. 

“Mrs. (y/n).” Yuuji says your name, a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You look at him, underneath your eyes still tinged red and swollen. Yuuji slightly cringes to himself. 

He wore a black suit, and you wore a black kimono. Funeral attire. It still didn’t feel real. But it had to be real now, right? 

You watched his casket be buried. You didn’t get to see him one last time though. It was a closed casket, which made you even more sick. 

Yuuji didn’t have the heart to tell you, but he knows if he didn’t then you would sit here for days on end. 

“It’s time to go home now.” He whispers. Yuuji had moved in. Hoping to help you with your grief, knowing that’s what Nanami would’ve wanted. You both needed each other, you just didn’t realize it yet. 

“Can I stay for five more minutes?” You whisper back, your voice cracking a bit. 

Yuuji nods his head, stepping a few feet back to give you your space and privacy. 

You turn back to his headstone. Reaching into the pocket of your kimono, you pull out your cell phone. 

It was like muscle memory now. Your fingers dance along the screen to click on Nanami’s profile. Just to hear his voice one more time. 

The phone rang only once this time, a different message waiting for you on the other side, 

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”