#hurrah they love each other!

[eveningclouds]

i think i might start journaling agaun jnstead of meowing in fhe tags of various posts. you're welcome

ok edit i typed waymore tags than i thought i would so if you click see more hou will get a whole wall of text that isn't really worth reading but for reasons elaborated upon below (in the wall of text not worth reading) i'm still clicking post bc thisis the internet i can do what i want

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[withwritersblock]

Kiwi pt. 2

~Kiwi by Harry Styles~

Part one Author's Note: you guys wanted a part 2 so you shall receive a part 2 but I never said that you shall receive a happy ending tehehee Summary: Quinn wants something more than a summer fling Warnings: some brief smut, barely anything but still there! Word Count: 3,439 Quinn Hughes x fm!reader

Quinn had been flustered all day. It seemed like every hour passed and she was sending over photos and messages of her plans for the night. His phone was constantly held to his chest, protecting over the seductive photos constantly being sent to him. His body was constantly hot and he kept finding himself jumping into the lake to try and cool off. The boys could tell something was off, he barely spoke the whole time and his gaze was constantly on his phone.

They knew it had to do with Y/N. They knew that he was head over heels for her and Quinn wouldn’t let himself admit it. Not only was she the most attractive girl he’s ever met. But she was the greatest girl he’s ever met. She was funny, kind, and sexy and she knew it. He loved a confident girl and damn she was confident.

He was awkward and a relationship guy but they made a promise to each other to have a fling. But she was also a relationship girl and she was freaking out that the single greatest summer of her life was coming to an end. Which is why she wanted to make it perfect. 

He was waiting in his room for her to come over. He was sprailed out on his bed, picturing the photos she had continued to send him all day. He was flustered and in extreme need of her in his bed, naked. Every few seconds, he would turn his phone screen on waiting for her text saying that she was here but nothing.

He was starting to get paranoid that she was not going to come over. She said that she would be at his house by eight and it was ten after. It was supposed to be the last hurrah. But he hated the idea that this was ending. He was definitely falling for her and it would be impossible for them to continue after this weekend.

He lived in Vancouver and she lived in St. Louis. It wouldn’t work. Especially since they weren’t even in anything official. It wouldn’t make sense. He knew that but he couldn’t stop thinking about what if they could make it work.

He was willing to fly her out every weekend, but he wasn’t sure that she would be willing to do that. A relationship that starts long distance was definitely not ideal but he was falling for her.

She was laying facing the window, still asleep but he was slowly gliding his fingertips along the curve of her frame. Delicately, he brushed her hair away from her face as he slowly started glided his fingers from her jawline, down her neck across her shoulder; down the curve of her side. His hand slowly glided across her hip. 

After a few seconds, she stirred and slowly rolled onto her back. Y/N pulled the blanket against her chest as her eyes opened softly. A small smile formed to he lips once she met his gaze.

“Good morning,” he mumbled as he looked over her features. Taking a deep breath, she reached her hand over and delicately ran her hand over his shoulder and down his bicep. 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” she mumbled as she looked into his eyes. He reached his hand over and rested his hand onto her cheek. He ran his thumb across the apple of her cheek. Her eyes shut as she tilted her head into his hand. “How long have you been awake?”

He chuckled softly. “A while,” he mumbled. “But you were pretty busy last night so I decided to let you sleep in–”

Her mouth fell open as she shoved him back, laughing. “Jerk,” she muttered while smiling. He hummed while stifling a laugh. Taking in a deep breath, she scanned his features as she continued to hold his arm as she ran her thumb across his bicep. 

“What are you all doing today?” he asked as he scanned her features. She pressed her lips together as she squinted her eyes slightly.

“Not sure,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side. “Probably just going to hang in our pool,” she explained as she continued to look into his eyes. He nodded as he looked over her features. “And then go dancing,” she elaborated. He nodded again while pursing his lips forward.

“Dancing?” he questioned. She smirked as she hummed, “Like at a club?” he asked as he lowered his gaze towards her lips. She hummed again. 

“What are you guys doing today?” she asked as she glided her hand up his shoulder, she slowly ran her fingers through his hair. He cleared his throat as he nodded.

“Uh–uhm I think we’re going to the club tonight,” he said as he fought off a smirk. She chuckled as she rolled her eyes. 

“Oh really?” she questioned teasingly. He nodded dramatically. “Quinn Hughes at a night club?” 

“Don’t say it like that,” he whined out as he pouted for a second. “I dance,” he let out while chuckling. 

“Really?” she asked while smirking. 

“I find that very offensive,” he said as he took a hold of her waist and ran his thumb across her skin, “I am a great dancer.” 

“Well, I would love to see that,” she said as she slowly sat up, holding the blanket against her chest. He smirked as he laid on his back as he looked up towards her. She began to slide out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he watched her walk around the bed towards her bathroom.

“I was going to shower,” she explained as she pushed the door open. “Wanna join me?” she asked teasingly. Without an ounce of hesitation he whipped the comforter away from his frame as he followed her towards the bathroom. A giggle fell from her lips as she walked into the bathroom. Quickly, he rested his hands onto her waist as he guided her inside.

His phone vibrated beside him and it was a text from Y/N. His eyes widened as he read the text that she was waiting outside of the house. He smirked as he quickly, climbed off of the bed. He walked out of the door and started walking towards the stairs. Walking past Luke who was walking out of his room.

He chuckled as he walked towards the bathroom. Quinn rolled his eyes as he climbed down the stairs. Jack and Trevor were sitting in the living room, looking towards Quinn. “Big night?” Trevor teased.

Quinn rolled his eyes as he walked towards the door and pulled it open. She was standing outside of the door, awkwardly holding a bottle of wine. Quinn smiled once he saw her. He tilted his head to the side as he allowed her to step inside. Y/N’s eyes landed on Trevor and Jack sitting on the couch.

“Hey Y/N,” Trevor and Jack said at the same time. She smiled politely as she met Quinn’s gaze and he quickly rested his hand onto the small of her back. 

“Let’s go,” Quinn mumbled as he forced a tight lip smile towards the boys on the couch. She hummed as they both climbed up the steps. “I’m sorry about them,” he mumbled. She muffled a small laugh.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as they turned the corner towards his room. Quinn quickly shut the door and twisted the lock. He looked down towards her as he took a hold of the wine bottle and delicately placed it onto the night stand. 

Quinn stepped towards her as he looped his hands around her waist. She smiled softly as she rested her hands on the base of his neck. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath as she met his eye.

“Hey baby,” he whispered as he glided his hands up her shirt, already so desperate to feel her skin. 

“Hey,” she mumbled as she lowered her gaze towards his lips. She took a deep breath as she felt her heart start to beat faster. “Can’t believe this is the last time we’ll be doing this,” she mumbled as she started gliding her fingers through his hair. 

“I know,” he mumbled as he pulled her towards him, a giggle fell from her lips as her arms wrapped around his neck. He leaned towards her, kissing her desperately. She smiled into the kiss. 

Stumbling backwards, she quickly kicked off her heels as he guided her towards the mattress. She pulled away from his lips as she looked into his eyes deeply. He leaned towards her, kissing her so softly. A soft hum fell from her lips. He leaned back as he took a hold of the ends of his shirt and pulled it over his frame. 

She smiled as she looked over his body; his muscles tensed as the cold air hit his skin. Slowly, she glided her hands over his skin. He scanned her features as she continued to feel his skin erupt in goosebumps under her touch. 

“I’m going to miss this,” she whispered as she rested her hands on the base of his neck. He smiled softly as he took in a sudden breath.

“Me too,” he muttered as he tightened his grip around her waist. “I’m gonna miss this–” he mumbled as he delicately pressed his lips against her cheek slowly. He slowly began to trail his lips down her neck. Tilting her head back, she giggled as he continued to kiss her skin. Her breathing started to pick up as his hands started to hike up her shirt. 

“Wait, wait–” she said while laughing. He pulled his head back, while grinning. She glided her hand against his chest. His gaze flickered all over her features as his was slightly breathless. A small smirk formed to her lips, “Sit,” she let out softly. 

His eyes widened as his lips curled upward. His body instantly ran hot and he was dizzy. Swallowing hard, he listened and sat down on the mattress. She stepped back, a teasing smirk on her lips. 

“You’ve been very patient today,” she began as she took a hold of her jean shorts. She unbutton them and slowly glided them down her frame. Kicking them away, she stepped towards him. Quinn bit his bottom lip as he tried to stop the grin forming to his lips. 

His eyes trailed her frame, watching the t-shirt hike up as she brushed her hair off of her shoulders. He could see the lace dark blue underwear on her frame. “Fuck,” he muttered as he raised his gaze up to meet her eye. Pursing her lips forward, slowly she climbed onto his lap. Quinn’s hands hovered in the air, trying to decide if he was allowed to touch her.

Her hands rested on the base of his neck as she leaned towards him, kissing him slowly. He hummed against her lips as she slowly grinded against his lap. Several seconds passed before he took a hold of her shirt and began to pull it up her frame. Pulling her lips away from his, she assisted him and tossed it towards the floor. 

His eyes were admiring her body, the matching lace bra. His hands hovered in the air again, in awe of the woman in front of him. He let out a huff of air as his eyes met her gaze. “Wow,” he mumbled. She smirked as she leaned towards him kissing him desperately again. His hands rested on the curve of her ass as she continued to grind against his lap. 

“What if–” he mumbled against her lips, “What if this isn’t the end of us?” he asked. 

“What?” she let out as she pulled away from him. Her hands were still rested onto the base of his neck. His hands glided up and rested them onto the small of her back. 

“What if we try the whole long distance thing?” 

He glided his callased hands across her breasts as he began to suck on her bottom lip. A gasp fell from her lips. Slowly, Quinn trailed wet kisses down her neck. He began to suck her skin, circling his tongue against the hot skin. He delicately bit her skin. Tilting her head back as her fingers ran through his hair.

He quickly took a hold of her breast as he took her nipple into his mouth. He began sucking and biting against the sensitive skin. “Oh fuck,” she mumbled breathlessly.

He hummed against her skin, causing her entire body to erupt in goosebumps. He slowly began to twist her other nipple between his fingers as her hands glided along his upper back. “Quinn, please,” she let out. A grin formed to his lips as he pulled away from her breast. 

He began to trail wet kisses down her stomach, she began to squirm under his touch. Quickly, he pinned her hip against the bed as looked up towards her as if asking for permission. She nodded while gripping the sheets beside her. 

“What do you need, baby?” he asked teasingly as he pressed his lips against the inside of her thigh. His thumb brushed against her clit teasingly, watching her buck her hips towards his hand. He smirked as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“Please–” she muttered, her mind was all over the place; words were impossible. He smirked as he applied more pressure against her clit as he started circling slowly. He pressed his lips against her thighs as he kissed closer to her center. 

“Oh fuck,” she mumbled as she squinted her eyes shut. He dipped two fingers into her center, causing a moan to fall from her lips. He smirked as he admired her. He curled his fingers inside her as he continued to play with her wetness. 

He pressed his lips against her skin before he leaned down and took her clit into his mouth, he began sucking and swirling his tongue. Her stomach was tightening as her fingers found his hair. “Oh my god,” she muttered as she pressed her lips together.

“Talk to me, baby, what do you need?” Quinn asked against her center as he pulled his fingers from her center. A smirk on his lips as he looked up towards her again watching her squirm under his touch. 

“I don’t know, just don’t stop,” she forced out. He chuckled, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Are you serious?” she asked as she ran her fingers through the ends of his hair. He nodded slowly. Furrowing her eyebrows, she scanned his features. “What are you–where is this coming from?” she asked as she looked into his eyes so desperately. 

“Where is this coming from?” he asked while laughing softly. He shook his head as his hands glided away from her frame. He rested them onto the mattress behind him. “We’ve spent literally every day together for the last two months and you think this is just some idea I had right now?” he questioned. 

She took in a deep breath as she looked over his features. “Quinn, we had rules,” she whined out as her hands landed onto his cheeks. 

“I know,” he muttered.

“No! Summer fling, no feelings. Just sex, that was the rules,” Y/N said as she looked into his eyes. “You live in Canada for fuck sake.” she whined, a small pout on her lips. He smirked as he fought a chuckle climbing in his throat. 

“I know,” he let out as his eyes widened slightly.

“And tonight was supposed to be our last time–”

“It doesn’t have to–”

“It was supposed to amazing. We were supposed to be amazing but no you made it weird!” she whined as she climbed off of his lap. His eyes widened as he watched her pace back and forth slightly. It was impossible not to admire the way her body looked with the blue lacy set on her frame. She shifted her gaze towards him, watching him stare towards her. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“You’re the one wearing a very ho–hot underwear okay?!” he said while chuckling. He stood up, adjusting the sweatpants on his frame. “Like really hot, is this new?” he mumbled as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. Her eyes widened as she clenched her jaw. His mouth fell open as he fought a grin.

“Quinn!” she said while chuckling.

“You cannot tell me this hasn’t been the best summer of your life,” he let out as he took another step towards her. Clenching her jaw, she looked into his eyes.

“Best summer is pushing it,” she mumbled as she smirked. She took a deep breath as she took a step towards him. “Why are you making it weird by bringing up a relationship?” she asked as she continued to look into his eye. 

“Weird or are you scared that you might actually like me enough to want one?” he asked as he looped his arms around her waist to pull her towards him.

“Quinn,” she let out softly as she kept her hands to herself. 

Lifting his hand up, he took a hold of her chin, forcing her to fully meet his eye. Quinn glided his thumb across her jaw as he looked over her features. 

“I had plans for tonight, dirty sexy plans and you ruined them,” she said while frowning. He smiled while he stifled a laugh. “One last time with a lot of things that would’ve made you a very happy man but you are ruining it!” she explained while fighting a grin of her own. 

“You know what’s crazy about relationships? You can do dirty sexy plans all of the time,” he explained as he leaned towards her trying to kiss her. 

She pulled back and stepped away from him as she crossed her arms over her chest. He tilted his head back as he stared towards the ceiling. “See it wouldn’t be all the time because you live in Vancouver and I live in St. Louis! This would never work, Quinn!” she said while shaking her head. 

“We can try! We work so well together! You even said that you’re not a hook up person, I’m not either! We can try this!” he reached towards her but she held her hands up defensively. Slowly, she chewed on her bottom lip, suddenly fully aware that she had no clothes on. 

She reached down and took a hold of her t-shirt and pulled it over her frame. Quickly, she found her shorts as well and began to pull them up her frame. “What are you doing?” he asked as he scanned her now clothed frame. 

Buttoning her jean shorts, she shook her head again. “We had rules Quinn,” she let out barely above a whisper as she looked into his eyes. “We had rules, no feelings,” she muttered as she felt her chest get heavy. He stepped towards her, his gaze dipping towards her lips. 

“And how well is that going for you?” he asked barely above a whisper. 

“We can’t,” she mumbled as she stepped away from him, taking a deep breath. Quinn reached towards her, pulling her back towards him. He kissed her urgently as her hands found his hair. He gripped her shirt, desperate for it to be off of her frame again. 

Pulling away, she was breathing heavy as their nose bumped into one another. After another second, she reluctantly stepped away from him. Quinn’s hands slowly slipped from her frame as she walked towards the door.

“Goodbye Quinn,” she mumbled as she took a hold of her shoes and started walking out of his room. She shut it delicately behind herself. 

He stood in the center of the room staring at the door. Blinking slowly, he pressed his lips together. He let her walk away. She was right. It wouldn’t work but fuck all he wanted was for it to work. Y/N was funny and kind and beautiful. So beautiful.

Slowly, Quinn sat down on the mattress, still staring towards the door. 

Several minutes past and the door was shoved open by Jack. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Dude what happened to your big night?” he asked as he sat down beside him. 

Quinn shrugged as he stared ahead. “She left,” he forced out while poking his tongue against his cheek. 

“I saw that, what happened?” Jack asked as he rested his hand onto Quinn’s shoulder. 

Quinn nodded as he stared down towards his lap. “I don’t do hook ups, man,”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 12

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.3K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

Your alarm jerks you awake, and you blindly reach out to find your phone and turn it off. A yelp leaves your lips as you feel someone roll on top of you and throw the now silenced phone across the room.

“Daemon,” you whine, voice raspy from sleep, “what the fuck?”

He sits back, his thighs caging your body in. “What in the hells was that noise?”

“It was my alarm,” you rub at your eyes in an effort to wake up. “I really didn’t want to waste today.”

You push at Daemon’s chest in an effort to get him to let you up, but your husband doesn’t budge at all. “My love, as much as I want to explore your world more and try this ‘pizza’ again, our wife is probably worried sick.”

“I’ll get her a fucking t-shirt then, I want to have a nice latte and give my vibrator one last ‘hurrah’ before I go back to the dark ages-LITERALLY.”

Daemon slings a leg over, standing up to dig out the clothes you had bought for him yesterday. He shuddered as he pulled on the monstrosity you referred to as ‘cargo shorts’ when you bought them as punishment for his comments about modern attire for women. 

You smirk as you get dressed. As much as you love your husband, there was something so vindicating about making him dress a little silly. If he had some much to say about jean shorts and crop tops, then he could dress like a dad going to Disney. “You look ravishing,” you tease. Digging through your closet, you slipped on a sundress. Today was going to be a little bit of shopping for the kids and Nyra, as well as working your way through some foods you needed Daemon to try.

Daemon slid on his plain tshirt (you had saved the “Dad of the Year” shirt to give him when you returned). “I look ridiculous,” he complained, “do all men here insist on showing their legs? I don’t like it.”

You snort out a laugh, doing your best to keep it in. Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and he stalked over. His one hand gripped the waist of your sundress, pulling you towards him as the other slipped under. The hem of the dress hiked up as his palm stopped to squeeze your asscheek. “Laugh as much as you like, my love,” Daemon purred, “but I promise I will make you pay for every single joke.” Your laughter dies, replaced by a short moan as Daemon lays a light spank across your asscheek.

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to make each one count,” you say, winding your hands through his hair. You gently pull at his hair, leaning in to kiss and nibble at his throat. His moan vibrates against you as you kiss up his jawline to his ear. You gently bite at the lobe before pulling away and grinning. “As much as I want to get those shorts right back off, I promised you a fun day in my world.”

“I assure you, my love, it is no hardship to stay inside today.”

You drag Daemon out of the apartment, slipping your hand in the crook of his elbow. “I can’t wait for you to meet my ride, Glenda.”

“You have a horse?”

“Kinda,” you laugh as you lead Daemon to your garage. “I don’t know how much horsepower she gets, but she’s my baby.” You click the lock button and listen for your car. There she is…right where you left her. “She’s not as fun as Caraxes, but she’ll get us where we need to go. She’s probably cheaper to feed too.”

Daemon eyes the Prius warily. “Where is the saddle?”

“Inside,” you say, urging Daemon forward. 

“You want me to go inside that beast?!” he hissed. “You’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the doors and opening his. “Come on, I’ll let you be passenger princess this time.”

After quite a bit of convincing, you manage to get Daemon in the car and buckled in. He was heavily opposed to the seatbelt, but after a long lecture about road safety, he put it on just to get you to stop lecturing. You rolled down the windows so he could lean out and watch the buildings fly past. 

You pulled into the parking lot of a local coffee shop, helping Daemon figure out the release mechanism on his seatbelt. “Would you like something sweet or bitter?” you asked, unsure whether or not he would be familiar with half of the drinks and pastries here.

“I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

“Thanks not an answer, but I love the enthusiasm,” you laughed, giving Daemon a peck on the cheek. You order an iced chai latte with a shot of espresso for yourself and the ‘drink of the month’ for Daemon. After asking the cashier for two warmed pastries, you pay and lead Daemon to a table in the back. He is looking around at all the decor-photos of the owner from 50 years ago, cookie jars, and a wall of postcards.

“Did someone paint all of these?” he asked, pointing towards the photos.

You shook your head, pulling out your phone. “They’re like paintings. You can use a camera or any device with a built in camera.” Turning your phone on selfie mode, you slide into the seat next to Daemon. You snap a pic as you kiss his cheek, and show him the screen. He hums, looking at the picture of you both. 

“Nyra would love this,” he murmurs. “Can we bring her a camera?”

“I think we could pick up a polaroid and some film,” you muse. “There is no way to keep a phone alive back there, but a polaroid would work.”

The barista calls out your name and Daemon walks up to collect your order. You watch as he and the young barista go back and forth. “Hey, need any help there baby?” you ask, winding an arm around Daemon’s waist.

“The barmaid here was asking for my number-”

“I am so sorry!” the barista apologized, blushing. “I asked if he had a girlfriend and he said no so I-”

“I don’t-”

“He has a wife.” 

You try your best not to laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it all as you take your drink and assure the barista there’s no issue. Daemon and you down your pastries while you try to explain the concept of democracy to a real life monarch. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated.”

“I take it Nyra won’t be instituting one in Westeros,” you tease.

“As much as she loves you, not a chance.” Daemon snorts. He stands when you finish your food, offering you his arm. “But that idea for the orphanage reform is something she would love,” he says with a nudge. “Nyra knows you’re getting restless, and has been looking for projects you can head.”

“Really?” you ask excitedly. “You think she would let me?”

“For you? Of course,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Now, you promised me we could pick up some of these ‘legos’ for the kids.”

“Want to try your luck at driving?” you ask with a wicked grin.

“Not at all.”

NOTE: New chapter!!! I am SO SORRY for the lack of Nyra...I MISS HER TOO SO MUCH AND I'M BENDING SPACE AND TIME TO GET HER BC I MISS MY POOKIE/ANGEL!!!!! Anyway, pls enjoy some modern hijinks. Also if you're AT ALL interested in a Logan Howlette x Popstar!OC/Reader story.....I am posting chapter 3 soon (Me and the Devil). They start off disliking each other so YOU KNOW we are gonna have some fun banter. Also, currently writing and hope to have chapter 13 of TVSTT up in the next few days! ~ Lacie <33

Taglist: @syraxnyra , @avalyaaa , @angeliccss , @clocksonthewall79 , @sia2raw , @forma-lina , @lorarri , @imoonkiss , @ba6ysworld , @abaker74 , @different-tale-student , @beca2468 , @hnm-mika , @pendejalian , @lexasaurs634 , @jaydemon99 , @lovelyy-moonlight , @waitaminuteashh , @winterrnight , @malfoycassimalfoy , @ghostlyvoidydragon , @spacexdrago , @asgardian1023 , @madamevirgo , @ahyespubes , @cowboybaby2 , @sm3156 , @ashlatano7567 , @cheat2tea , @kmatrixx1130 , @jubilee40 , @dimue , @coolmantha921, @ynbutbetter , @macaulaytwins , @idk-idk-idk-idk23 , @lavender2ari, @the-brainr0tt , @kamarimartell , @bluecloudsworld , @anonymous989, @uniquecutie-puffs , @mimitoupe01, @ace-spades-1 , @urmomsgirlfriend1 , @insufferablelust , @lilsyl , @ella-rose45 , @essiexxz , @apollonshootafar , @myheartfollower, @baybaybear1 , @povofjustme , @ninasully, @snapedog

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[strawberrykidneystone]

Fresh Out the Slammer I Know Who My First Call Will Be

stanley pines x female reader

summary: stanley needs to be bailed out. again. don't worry, he'll make it up to you! he swears!

a/n: i am not immune to the gravity falls renaissance,,, all 22 fingers iykyk

tags: smut, set the week before the twins come to gravity falls, reader is late 20s-early 30s, reader wears a skirt, pussy eating, cowgirl, spanking (like twice), creampie (wrap it before your tap it)

ao3 version

y/n stood at the counter of the police department once again, her arms crossed as she had to bail stan out.

again.

how many times has she have to do this? she didn't keep track anymore, yet she would still do it every time he called.

"hey sweets..." his sheepish voice would always ring out as he called to her from the small holding cell.

blubs grumbled something about this being a weekly occurrence as stan meekly came out of the cell, knowing he was going to be in the dog house tonight. stan quickly put his signature jewelry back on and rushed out in front of y/n and held the passenger side door of El Diablo open for her, putting on his best smile as she slid into her seat, her arms still crossed.

the ride home was quiet, the windows were rolled down and stanley glanced over every so often at y/n as the wind blew through her hair. god she was so beautiful, he didn't deserve her. she was always there for him, more than his own parents, more than his own brother, and he knew that every time he messed up like this she just got closer to leaving him like everyone else. he knows better, he knows he shouldn't think like this, and she gladly reassured him every time, but times like this in the deafening silence only being broken by the erratic purr of the engine, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts.

this time was somewhat of a last hurrah for stanley since he had the twins coming over. he stopped smoking his usual cigars and replaced all his beer with pitt, even giving y/n a small squirt gun to spray him every time he cursed, trying to get out of the habit before the impressionable 12-year-olds arrived for the summer.

when they arrived home, stan ran around el diablo once again and opened up y/n's door. she seemed less peeved than she was when she first arrived at the station, but she still kept quiet as she stepped out and walked into the mystery shack, stan trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

y/n sat at the edge of their shared bed and looked up at stan expectantly, an aura of annoyance surrounding her. she had one leg crossed over the other and arms crossed to match. "awe doll, don't look at me like that, this was the last time i swear!"

"the kids are coming next week stan! how do i know that this was really the last time?"

"let me prove it to you sweets, i promise on my mother that my act will be together for these kids,” he said holding one hand up and placing the other over his heart like an oath.

y/n frowned a little but gave the old man a curt nod, knowing how important their stay was to him and how much he's already been preparing already.

"lemme make it up to you doll," stan purred and got down on his knees with a little bit of exertion, crawling forward on his knees and gently prying her knees apart. he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, pressing kisses to the inside of her knees with an exaggerated "mwah" each time along with his stubble scratching against her skin.

this made y/n crack a smile and reached a hand down to run her fingers through his hair, landing on the side of his face, "and how exactly are you going to do that stanley?"

he loved hearing his name from her mouth, he grinned up at her and tugged her closer by her thighs, causing her to sequel with her back landing on the bed, "oh i might have a few ideas doll."

stan pushed her skirt up around her hips and licked his lips, already seeing a wet spot on her panties, "all this just for me baby? you spoil me."

he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the soiled fabric, mouthing at her clothed pussy and reaching his hands around to grope her ass. he nuzzled his nose against her clit, inhaling her scent deeply and hearing a whine spill out from her, "stan stop teasing."

he muttered something incoherent about patience, but judging by the bulge in his pants, he didn't want to wait much longer either. stan hooked his thumbs through the sides of her underwear and with y/n lifting her hips up, slid them off with ease. he immediately dove in like a man starved, massaging his tongue against her sensitive nub and sucking every so often. moving his mouth down, his nose nudged against her clit, encouraging her to rub herself against it as he thrusted his tongue inside of her. she took the hint and grinded her hips against his nose, moaning at the new stimulation while being partially filled up, feeling his tongue rubbing against her walls.

stan groaned and pulled back panting, her slick all over the bottom half of his face, "can't take it anymore doll, need you to ride me."

she giggled and rolled her eyes, "alright, get on the bed old man."

she turned over on all fours to crawl further up on the bed, stan taking the opportunity to give her ass a playful smack, a small squeak falling from her lips. y/n sat back on her heels and took off her shirt, along with her bra. by the time she turned around, stan was comfortably lying with his back against the headboard, completely naked with his cock standing up high.

y/n shuffled on her knees over to him and straddled his thighs, stan looking up at her light she hung all the stars in the sky causing her to blush deeply. she took his cock into her hand and rubbed the tip in between her lower lips, stan salivating as he watched his precum mix with her own arousal with his hands quickly making their way to her hips. as she finally sank down on his length, both of them let out a sigh of pleasure as her warm walls engulfed him.

she took a moment to adjust to his length, allowing his hands to wander up her waist, squeezing her breasts in his big hands and brushing his thumbs over her nipples every so often. he leaned forward and sucked on her left nipple, teething softly but careful to not bite down too hard, switching to the other a short time later. while he was showing affection to her breasts, she ran her hands over his hairy shoulders and reached towards his upper back, running her nails just hard enough to leave a mark. she gave an experimental bounce, her breath hitching as he finally bottomed out inside of her. stan unlatched from her breasts and leaned back, his gripping her ass with a shit-eating grin, "you ready to ride toots?"

she let out a breathy laugh and put her hands on his beer gut, leaning forward slightly to steady herself, "i'd be more concerned about myself if i were you."

as he was about to respond with something snarky, she lifted herself almost completely off of him before sinking back down quickly. he moaned and leaned his head back, giving her a little support with her movements with his hands. stan smacked her ass as she found a steady rhythm, feeling her squeeze around him. "that's it, that's my good girl."

stan grabbed her hips and kept her in place, thrusting up into her with his feet pushing down into the mattress, watching her breasts bounce with each movement. y/n moaned and arched her back, reaching a hand down to rub her clit for more stimulation, "yes! right there, don't stop stan!"

stan kept with the pace he was at and could feel himself getting close, gritting his teeth, "where do you want it doll?"

"inside, please!"

he nodded and reached one of his calloused hands down to rub her clit, replacing her own hand as he continued to thrust inside of her as she moved with him. with the rough texture of his hand, y/n opened her mouth in a silent scream as she reached her peak with stan not far behind as he released his seed inside of her.

the two sat in a comfortable silence, only their heavy breathing filling the room. y/n looked down at him and smiled sleepily, affectionately tapping his chest, "good job keeping up oldie."

he snorted and put his hand behind his head, "'m sorry doll, it was one last hurrah. am i forgiven?"

y/n pretended to think and tapped her chin with her index finger, "hmm i don't know... yes of course, I'll always be there to bail you out stan, you know that."

a soft smile rested on his face as he took the hand on his chest, kissing each fingertip, "i know you will doll, and I'm damn lucky to have you."

she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, grinning like a cheshire cat suddenly, "i took your bail money from your buried cash box."

"you WHAT-"

a/n: ty for reading!!! also it's my fanfic and i'll write as many run on sentences as i want!!!

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

love, lies, and first times

Summary: You were made to believe that your girlfriend, Hazel Callahan, lost her virginity to Stella-Rebecca some years ago. But when the truth is revealed during a game of truth or dare, your trust in her is shattered. What reason did she have to lie, and who did she actually lose her virginity to?

Pairing: loser!virgin!hazel x experienced!reader

Contains: mature language and content, lies, smut, fingering, oral, first time, kissing, drinking, tit play, both receiving, both giving, loser!hazel, sub!hazel, biblically!accurate!hazel, reader isn’t described as fem or masc

Word Count: 6k

A/N: soo one of my pet peeves when reading a hazel fic is when hazel keeps her rings on when fingering the reader and the reader likes it? Listen, I lost my virginity to someone who accidentally kept their rings on and it was painful. I had to ask them to take them off, highly unpleasant. I kinda make fun of that here, I hope some of y’all are ready to get called tf out ;)

“Hazel, truth or dare?”

You squeezed your girlfriend’s hand as PJ sent her a wicked grin. The senior class of the Rockbridge Fight Club had just graduated high school, and the club leaders, PJ and Josie, had decided to celebrate by throwing a party—one last ‘hurrah’ for the founding members. Now, you all sat in a circle in Josie’s dim basement, sipping poorly mixed jungle juice from red solo cups while David Fincher movies played on a vintage television in the background. Truth or dare was, of course, PJ’s idea—perhaps in the hopes that someone would dare her to kiss Brittany.

Hazel returned your squeeze, the cool metal of her rings pressing against your warm skin. “Truth,” she answered.

PJ’s lips curled into such a shit-eating grin, you began to wonder if maybe she really did eat ‘literal shit.’ “Who did you lose your virginity to?”

You smiled, already knowing the answer. Early into dating, you and Hazel had exchanged ‘first-time’ stories: yours had been with some girl at summer camp when you were sixteen, and Hazel had confessed to experimenting with Stella-Rebecca freshman year. She stressed that it was nothing romantic, simply two friends getting their first times out of the way, and then swore you to secrecy for the sake of Stella-Rebecca’s privacy. However, Stella-Rebecca was sitting right there, and you doubted she would appreciate Hazel exposing their previous affair to the entire group.

Sure enough, Hazel’s eyes widened as a blush crept upon her cheeks. “Uhhh…”

Her hand seemed to stiffen within yours, tightening its hold as her rings indented your skin. You glanced across the circle at Stella-Rebecca, who stared at Hazel with an expectant (and somewhat oblivious) smile.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you murmured to Hazel in an attempt to calm her, but her grip only further constricted.

PJ rolled her eyes. “Come on, Hazel, I gave you an easy one. Everyone knows you probably lost it to her,” she gestured towards you.

It was your turn to blush. “Actually, uh…” you looked towards your girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her ability to speak. “We haven’t really, uh…”

PJ gasped as her eyes almost popped out of her head. “No way! You two haven’t jacked each other off yet?”

It was true, you and Hazel had yet to take your relationship to that level. Not like you didn’t try, you had been dating for months, but Hazel seemed to shy away every time you so much as slipped a hand up her shirt. You knew you shouldn’t pressure her, but you were beginning to feel a bit unattractive—after all, Hazel had lost her virginity to a model. How could you possibly compare to that?

Josie, ever the peacemaker, decided to chime in. “Ok PJ, let’s back off a little bit…”

Hazel seemed to relax a bit at Josie’s words. She eased her grip, and you heard her exhale a breath you didn’t know she was holding.

“I have to admit, I’m a little curious myself.” Stella-Rebecca interjected, taking you by surprise. “Hazel never talks about her sex life.”

Your face contorted in confusion. Hazel tensed up again, but your attention was focused on the girl sitting across from you. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes we’ll be hanging out and the topic of sex will come up, and I’ll share some hookup story and she’ll just kind of… change the subject or something.”

There it was again, that familiar burn of envy like acid in your veins. “Maybe she’s jealous,” you suggested, words unintentionally dripping with venom.

Stella-Rebecca furrowed her brow, her expression innocent. “I doubt Hazel would be jealous of my sex life… unfortunately, it has more men than I think either of us would prefer.”

”Well, you were her first.”

“What?!” Stella-Rebecca exclaimed, her jaw dropping in shock. PJ cackled maniacally, clearly having the time of her life.

Hazel’s hand was clamped so tightly around yours that her knuckles were white, but you barely noticed as you stayed fixated on Stella-Rebecca. “I mean… yeah… weren’t you?”

Stella-Rebecca furiously shook her head. “Hazel and I have known each other our whole lives, but never like that. Besides, I didn’t come out as a lesbian until after you two started dating. Why did you think it was me?”

You felt like a complete moron. “I don’t know…” you muttered, glaring at your girlfriend. She refused to meet your gaze, staring down at her lap while shades of crimson painted her features. Her hand was still clasped around yours, but you forcibly removed it, too hurt to want to be touched.

“Ok, so, Hazel’s a prude. Glad we got that out of the way.” PJ sneered.

Josie reached over and smacked her arm. “So are you, PJ. Hypocrite.”

“I am not a prude, I’m a virgin.” PJ corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The game continued once the tension died down. No one dared PJ to kiss Brittany, so when it was her turn again, she took it upon herself to dare Brittany to kiss her, which the poor girl blatantly refused. After that, PJ pretty much lost interest and the game dissipated, with everyone breaking the circle to go off and do their own things. Josie and Isabel were tucked away in a corner, failing to be discreet during a heated makeout session. PJ had joined Brittany on the couch, while Brittany sipped her drink and scrolled through her phone, trying to ignore Pj’s passes. The rest of the girls, including Hazel, huddled in front of the small television, chatting through the David Fincher movies. You, however, stayed back in an attempt to avoid your girlfriend.

“How could she lie to me like that?” You asked Brittany, plopping down on the couch between her and PJ. Rolling her eyes, PJ got up and left the basement, retreating upstairs for whatever reason.

Brittany seemed grateful for your company (and relieved at PJ’s disappearance). “I don’t know, babe,” she said, slinging her arm around you and pulling you close. “I’m sure she had a good reason.”

You groaned pathetically, resting your head on her shoulder. “I can’t think of any.”

Brittany leaned down and kissed the top of your head, sympathetic to your feelings. You glanced over to the television area and saw Hazel staring back at you, watching your interaction with Brittany. She looked sad, not jealous, just sad. Those big blue eyes that would look at you with so much love were now pained, filled with remorse. She sort of resembled a kicked puppy, and every instinct in your body told you to run over and hold her, comfort her, before you remembered why you were angry in the first place.

Before you could force yourself to break your shared gaze, PJ suddenly came bumbling down the stairs again, holding an empty beer bottle. “Look what I found in the kitchen trash!” She exclaimed, commanding the room’s attention.

Josie shook her head in disbelief. “Why were you in my trash?”

“Doesn’t matter! Now we can play ‘seven minutes in heaven!’” PJ declared, moving to the middle of the room and gesturing for everyone to get the circle back together.

Brittany groaned, all too aware that this was just another one of PJ’s stunts to try and get with her. It was your turn to be sympathetic.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered to her. “If the bottle starts to land on you during PJ’s turn, I’ll intercept it.”

Brittany mouthed a ‘thank you’ before taking your hand and walking with you to join the circle. This time, you sat directly across from Hazel, as far away from her as possible. You could feel her sad puppy-dog eyes boring into you, but you refused to meet her gaze.

“Alright,” PJ asserted, rubbing her hands together. “If there’s no volunteers to go first…”

“I think our host should spin first.” Isabel interrupted, looking towards Josie with what could only be described as ‘fuck-me’ eyes.

Josie giggled as she took the bottle from a reluctant PJ and spun it in the center. Everyone watched with anticipation as the bottle slowed, almost stopping in front of Annie before Isabel grabbed it and pointed it towards herself.

“Wow, what a coincidence!” Isabel exclaimed, much to Josie’s amusement.

The two held hands and disappeared into the small coat closet under the basement stairs. PJ rolled her eyes. “It’s no fun if you pick your partners!” She yelled after them.

One thing about 'seven minutes in heaven’ that no one talks about is what the rest of the group does during the seven minutes. Do you talk? Keep playing? Listen in? You certainly didn’t know, and apparently neither did anyone else—with the exception of PJ, who set her phone timer before sitting with her ear pressed to the door.

“So… what’s everyone’s summer plans?” Stella-Rebecca asked in an attempt to fill the silence.

Annie shrugged in response. “Mostly working as a counselor for Vacation Bible School and protesting outside Planned Parenthood. Same old, same old.”

“Would you guys shut up over there?” PJ hissed from across the room. “I’m trying to listen to them fuck!”

Eventually, seven agonizing minutes finished with the screech of PJ’s timer. “Times up, lovebirds!” She shouted, throwing open the door.

The ‘lovebirds’ stumbled out of the closet in a fit of giggles. Both of their clothes were wrinkled, hair disheveled, and Isabel’s lipstick was smeared all over Josie’s mouth. The couple was immediately met with cheers and jeers from the rest of the party as they made their way back to the circle.

“Wow, thanks for warming up the closet for us you two,” PJ snickered. “Now, as for who’s next…”

“Hazel, why don’t you spin?” Isabel suggested, seizing the bottle before PJ could and passing it to Hazel.

“Oh, come on!” PJ complained, having been cockblocked yet again.

The group all shared a chuckle at PJ’s dismay, especially Brittany who was laughing so hard tears began to form. PJ could do nothing but pout until the laughter died down and Hazel reached into the center, spinning the bottle.

Round and round the bottle spun, the group watching with bated breath. The hollow glass rotated, nozzle slowing, slowing until it finally stopped on no other than… you. All previously dissipated tension immediately resurfaced as the room seemed to still, everyone recalling the incident from earlier.

“Yeah, you guys! Go in there and give us absolutely nothing!” PJ sneered, earning another smack on the arm from Josie.

You stared at the bottle, nozzle pointing directly at you, no question about it. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Hazel nervously fidgeting with her rings, unsure of how to proceed.

“Maybe we could… play something else?” Brittany suggested gently.

PJ clapped her hands together. “Nope! Rules are rules. Get in there, you two.” She seized your hands and dragged you to the closet, throwing both of you in before slamming the door.

Hazel kept her gaze fixated on her fidgeting hands while you pretended to be very interested in a small tear on one of the hanging coats. After what felt like an eternity, you checked your watch. Only twelve seconds had passed. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, one of us has to say something.”

She glanced towards the door. “How much do you wanna bet PJ is listening in on us?”

You shot her a glare, not finding her joke funny.

“I’m sorry…” Hazel muttered, lowering her head again.

At that moment, all of the hurt, anger, and confusion you had kept bottled up to save face rose to the surface. “Why would you lie to me?” You demanded, using her own line against her.

Her face crumpled upon hearing the true betrayal behind your question. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Hazel, you lied about losing your virginity to Stella-Rebecca. That’s such an odd thing to lie about, it doesn’t make any sense…”

“Ok,” Hazel cut you off. “I didn’t have sex with Stella-Rebecca...”

“No shit,” you spat. “So what, you like, want to?”

“No!” Hazel insisted. “Stella and I are friends. I’ve never thought about her that way.”

“Then why have you had me believing you slept with her?” You hissed, a weak attempt to keep your voice down.

She was at it again, fiddling with those goddamned rings. “I don’t know, I just…” she swallowed, hesitating. “You told me about your first time… at summer camp… and you asked me about mine. We had just started dating. I didn’t want you to think I was inexperienced.”

“Hazel,” you sighed. “You are inexperienced.”

“I mean, like, I didn’t want you to see me as an immature little baby who didn’t know what she was doing, so I panicked and made something up. I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

The edges of your anger blurred as you realized fear had driven your girlfriend to a desperate lie. Poor Hazel, she looked shrunken, almost. She had drawn into herself, vulnerability exposed like a house of cards in the wind. You reached out and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at you and taking her by surprise.

“Hazel,” you cooed. “It’s ok that you’ve never had sex before, I don’t care.”

“Really?” She asked.

You nodded. “Of course I don’t care. I just thought you’d been pushing me away because you didn’t find me that attractive, but…”

“What?!” Hazel’s exclamation took you aback, making you drop your hand. “That’s not it at all! Shit, I was just worried I’d mess up somehow, I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my entire life! I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No, really! Every time I look at you, I’m like ‘holy fuck, how did I get so lucky…’”

You cut her off by crashing your lips against hers. Her body initially tensed at the sudden contact, but soon melted into yours as it had done so many times before. Your hands found the nape of her neck as you drew her closer, pressing her up against you as much as possible. Lip-locks with Hazel were familiar to you, but never had one been so passionate, so rough and yet reassuring at the same time.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were gasping to catch your breath, realizing you had inadvertently chosen each other over oxygen. You gazed upon Hazel, studying her flushed cheeks, her lustrous lips, and the way her shirt collar sat askew atop her shoulders. With the way she stared back, you could tell you appeared just as rumpled.

“Well that’s good to know,” you giggled, reaching out to fix her collar. “Listen, Hazel, you’re a virgin. So what? I don’t care who you have or haven’t been with before. If you’re not ready yet, that’s perfectly fine, really. I would never pressure you into anything.”

Back at it again with those fucking rings. What the hell could you have possibly said this time?

“That’s the thing…” she began, her gaze fixated to the floor again. “I think I… I think…”

“Hazel…” you whispered her name, placing two fingers on her arm and making her shiver.

“I… I think I am ready. I’ve been ready. For a little while now.”

Your eyes widened at her confession. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I want you… uh, I mean… I want to do it… with you. I just… I don’t… I don’t know how to…” each sputter was paired with imperceptible hand gestures, desperate to communicate something she didn’t have the words to say.

“To… initiate it?” You asked.

“Yes! That!” She sighed, thankful you knew her well enough to understand her babbles. “I mean, should it be planned? Spontaneous? Do I just walk up to you and say ‘hey I wanna have sex?’ Where do I do it? How? Can I just blurt it out of nowhere or does something have to be happening first? If so, then what?”

“Hazel…” she was rambling again. You placed your hands on both sides of her head, smoothing her hair. “There’s no right way to initiate it, trust me. You can just do whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

She met your gaze again, head still caught between your palms. There was something different behind her eyes, though, something besides remorse or even vulnerability. Her brilliant blue’s seemed darker somehow, almost… hungry. You finally caught on when she snuck a glance at your lips, and closed the distance between you.

This kiss was different from the last: still passionate, but gentler, lighter, as if you were exploring for the first time. Her hands found your waist, loosely gripping the fabric of your top. You reciprocated, running your thumb over the hem of her tank top and accidentally brushing over a patch of bare skin. She flinched at the unfamiliarity, and you pulled away.

“Are you ok?” You whispered, forehead pressed against hers. She nodded, half-lidded eyes not leaving your lips. “Can I…?” Your fingers hesitated just under her tank top, barely grazing the skin of her stomach. She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. For the first time in her life, she let her body do the talking as she pressed into you, capturing you in another kiss.

Slowly, surely, your fingers inched up the underside of her tank top. You took the time to trace little shapes into her skin, moving from her waist, to her stomach, to the underside of her rib cage. Her breath hitched with each new touch; Hazel had always been ticklish, but the way your fingertips danced along her torso made her shiver rather than squirm. As her comfortability levels grew, your hand traveled up, further, further…

“Holy shit, they were really gonna fuck!”

PJ’s grating voice startled you apart like an unwelcome infomercial in the dead of night. You glared at your intruder standing in the wide-open doorway, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. “Lose track of time?”

Hazel tugged at your wrists, and it wasn’t until that moment when you realized your hands were still under her tank top (much to PJ’s entertainment). With a mumbled apology, you detached yourself and helped her smooth out the fabric bunched around her ribs. Both of your faces were burning with a mixture of embarrassment and fluster.

“You could’ve knocked, you know…” Hazel muttered, watching the floor as she left the closet.

“I could’ve,” PJ admitted. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The rest of the party watched with amusement as you and Hazel exited the closet. Your flushed features and darting glances did not go unnoticed, prompting a series of snorts and stifled laughter. Forget David Fincher, you two were your own movie.

“So, I assume it’s safe to say you’ve made up?” Josie asked cheekily, squeezing Isabel’s hand, who bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing.

“We sure did,” you said with a sheepish grin.

Brittany couldn’t help but snicker. “Guess that explains your rosy cheeks.”

You exchanged looks with Hazel as an idea suddenly popped into your head. “Actually, Hazel’s cheeks are warm because she doesn’t feel too good.”

“I don’t?” Hazel asked.

“You don’t,” you repeated, shooting her a look. “In fact, oh my, I do feel warm! We must be coming down with something.”

“Wait, but I don’t feel…” Hazel seemed confused until she met your gaze and understood your plan. She raised her hand to her forehead, making a big show of collapsing into the basement wall. “Oh, woe is me! It is true! I seem to have fallen ill! Cough, cough, wheeze!”

You had to fight the corners of your mouth to keep from curling. Jesus, this girl couldn’t act for shit.

“Yes… anyway we need to leave. Right now. We don’t want to get any of you sick.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Josie sent you a knowing smirk.

You grabbed Hazel’s hand and ran with her up the stairs and out of the basement, the partygoers calling after you with whoops, hollers, and exaggerated kissing sounds. As the basement door creaked shut behind you, the last thing you heard was PJ’s whiny complaint. “No fair! Hazel gets pussy before I do?”

The two of you rushed hand-in-hand from Josie’s front door and piled into Hazel’s car, you in the passenger seat as usual.

She turned to you, keeping her free hand on the wheel. “Are your parents home?”

“They never are.”

Hazel had to release your hand to put her car in reverse, pulling out of the driveway like a madwoman. You anticipated her fingers intertwining with yours again, but instead, she reached over and rested her hand on your upper thigh. Her thumb gently brushed across the denim of your jeans, sending flutters through your stomach. Hazel was getting bold.

The drive back to your house was nothing but perilous. Hazel had always been a reckless driver, but the sharp turns and disregarded stop signs were wild even for her. Arriving at your house, she parked haphazardly, jumping out before rushing to throw open your door.

“Well that was fast,” you teased as Hazel helped you out of the car. “Looking forward to something?”

Words seemed to fail her as she silently took your face in her hands, kissing you with the desperation of a castaway grasping for a lifeline. She had you pressed into the passenger door, hips flush against yours. Your palms rested on her collarbone, feeling her rapid heartbeat.

You gently pushed her away, almost swearing you heard the faintest whimper leave her lips. “Why don’t we take this inside?” You suggested, to which Hazel could only nod.

The two of you stumbled into your house, barely taking the time to break away from each other to see where you were going. When you eventually made it to your bedroom, you slammed the door behind you and Hazel thrust you against the white wood. You relaxed into her, expecting more kisses, but looked up to find her features filled with apprehension.

“Hazel…” you whispered, moving your hands to her shoulders. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah…” she stuttered, her gaze dropping slightly. She had seized you by the hips, fingers hooked in your belt loops, hands beginning to tremble.

You gently lifted her jaw. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s ok if you changed your mind…”

“No! No, please. I need you so bad you have no idea…” she cut you off, her confession making you blush. “I just… I don’t… I mean… I’ve watched some porn and read fanfiction but…”

“Hazel, sex isn’t anything like porn or fanfiction.”

“Oh fuck, it isn’t?” She asked in disbelief, her wide eyes making you chuckle.

“Why don’t you let me lead, then?” You suggested, calming her with a tender kiss on her jawline. “Go lay down for me, yeah?”

Hazel did as she was told and moved to lie down on your pale-blue bedspread, a favorite of yours because you thought it matched her eyes. You stayed behind, stripping down to a bra and panties as Hazel watched with unblinking eyes.

“Relax, my love,” you purred, climbing onto the bed and hovering over her. You shifted, hips brushing against hers momentarily, causing Hazel’s eyelids to flutter and a sigh to leave her lips. A smirk crossed your face. “Sensitive, are we?”

Hazel could barely speak through her pathetic little whines. “P-please…”

You planted a sweet kiss on her lips before trailing down to her neck, exploring her soft skin, discovering unknown sensitive spots: her earlobe, the nape of her jaw, along her collarbone. Your fingers flitted underneath the hem of her tank top, creeping up, up, until you felt the cool nylon of her sports bra against your palm. Hazel shuddered at the newfound sensation, and you pulled back.

“Still good?”

“Good,” she breathed. “Yes, good.”

You hooked your finger under the neck of her tank top, coaxing her to sit up slightly. Pinching her shirt collar, you slid it off her shoulders before lifting the bottom of her tank, stopping with it bunched under her armpits. She finished the job for you, and you tossed the shirts aside, not caring where they landed.

Now she was left in a sports bra the color of fog, her nipples erect and poking through the fabric. You slipped two fingers under her band, looking to her for approval. She nodded, letting you peel it off until her tits sprang free.

“Holy shit, Haze,” you muttered, practically drooling at the sight of her naked breasts. Underneath the compressive sports bras, hidden beneath layers of baggy clothing, Hazel had perfect tits: round, firm, with little pink buds sitting like cherries on top of two scoops of vanilla ice cream. “How could you keep these from me?”

Hazel let out a laugh that sounded more like a breath, not entirely sure how to respond. Leaning down, you took one of the swollen buds in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while palming her other breast. Hazel threw her head back against the pillow, letting out cries of pleasure while her hands entangled themselves in your hair. You took your time, caressing, suckling, exploring every inch of her bare chest, memorizing each unique detail: a freckle on her décolletage, a vaguely mushroom-shaped birthmark hidden beneath her left breast.

She was, for lack of a better word, perfect. You had been so distracted, so deeply buried in her cleavage, that you hadn’t noticed time slipping away until you felt her pressing down on your head. Your name flew from her mouth in a desperate gasp. “I can’t… p-please… keep going…”

“So impatient,” you teased, mouth releasing her nipple with a pop. Hazel only whined in response, bucking against your stomach, hips urgently searching for some kind of release. You smirked, leaving her breasts and peppering kisses down her stomach, stopping when you reached the waistband of her gym shorts.

“Off?” You asked, though it was merely a formality at this point; you already knew the answer. She made a noise of approval, a mix between a groan and a squeak, and shifted her hips to allow you to slip them off her legs.

Now, there stood nothing between you two but the thin cotton of her slate-colored boxers. She was writhing, silently begging you to rip them off and have at her, but you couldn’t help but stop and admire the growing spot of wetness that had accumulated through the fabric. Her hips sputtered, shook, pairing with her pitiful whimpers to plead for attention. You, however, had other plans.

“What’s your rush, Haze? We’ve got all night, don’t we?” You were teasing her now, a wicked grin appearing as your fingertips danced along the elastic band of her boxers.

Her raised pelvis came crashing down onto the bedspread as she cried out in defeat. “Fuck… please… just take them off…”

You frowned, mocking her, using your thumb to gently encircle her clothed cunt. Her head sank further into the pillow, broken moans falling out of her mouth like beads from a shattered necklace.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hazel. Do you always get this wet?” You asked in disbelief. Her boxers felt like a saturated sponge.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, fighting to keep her speech intelligible. “I don’t think so, maybe. I… I need you… really bad…”

“Need me?” You replied cheekily, wrapping your fingers around the elastic and slipping her boxers off in one quick motion.

Your girlfriend's naked body was now fully on display before you. You had to take a moment, admiring details of the areas she had never let you see before: a small mole on her outer thigh, or the way her hip bones protruded to form little ridges across her pelvis. Her chest heaved, lips parted ever so slightly as she awaited your next move.

“Hazel?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you ready?”

She took in a breath, blowing it out big. “More than anything.”

You positioned your head between her legs, leaving feather-light kisses up and down her inner thighs. Her head tossed from side-to-side, body struggling to keep still with your mouth so close to where she needed you. Testing the waters, you ghosted a kiss over her clit, watching as she shuddered upon contact.

God she was sensitive.

Finally taking mercy on her, you licked a long, broad stripe up the length of her cunt, tongue lingering on her clit perhaps a bit longer than necessary. The cries that erupted from her throat were enough to send shocks through your own body. You moved to straddle her leg, grinding against it while you ate her out—a shift not going unnoticed by Hazel, only spurring her forward.

“Ohmygod… Ohmygod fuck…” your name tumbled from her lips amidst her breathless moans. She squirmed under your touch—every lick, each roll against her shin setting her body ablaze. A smirk tugged at your lips as your mouth created a vortex around her clit, causing her eyes to roll back like a slot machine landing on the jackpot.

You didn’t get to do this for very long before her plush thighs enveloped your head. “W-what…? It feels… I think, I think I’m…”

“Breathe, baby girl,” you cooed, never taking your mouth off of her. “Just relax, cum for me. Fuck you’re doing so well…”

Her hands flew back to your scalp, legs shaking, guttural cries erupting from her throat as her orgasm consumed her. Fuck she sounded pretty. Her thighs kept you right where she needed you, only loosening once her breathing evened and she slowly came back to reality.

You lifted your head once her legs collapsed onto your bedspread, her bones feeling like jello. “Was that alright, Haze?” You asked, crawling back up to lay next to her.

“Wow,” she sighed, pupils dilated into big black buttons. “Just wow.” She laid there a moment, silently recovering, wearing a dazed, blissful expression. But then her face shifted into something sour, almost uneasy. “I don’t, I mean… I don’t know how…”

“It’s fine,” you ensured.

“It’s not,” she argued. “I mean, you were… and on my leg…”

“Hey, Hazel,” you brushed her hair back, letting your fingers fall. “We don’t have to do anything else. Tonight was about you.”

“No, no. Please, I wanna fuck you so bad, I’ve been daydreaming about it for so long.”

You couldn’t have blushed harder if you tried.

“I just… I haven’t… like you did with that girl from summer camp. What if I try and it isn’t anything like that?”

“Hazel…” you reached for her face, kissing her reassuringly. “It won’t be anything like it was with her.”

Her face fell. “It won’t?”

“Of course not,” you replied. “What I did with her, it was just sex. Nothing like this, this is completely different.”

“Why?”

You had to gather up the courage to say your next words. “Hazel… I’m in love with you.”

She finally faced you with wide eyes. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m saying it now.”

That blissful expression from earlier returned to her pretty face. “I love you too.”

You giggled, and she pulled you into another kiss. Her weight shifted until you were on your back, her body covering yours, legs on either side of your hips. She tried to emulate you, peppering kisses down your neck and chest until she reached the satin cusp of your bra.

“How do… uh… I only wear sports bras…”

You sat up, guiding her hands around to your back and helping her unhook your clasp. She slid it off your shoulders and tossed it aside without care, her attention fixated purely on the newly-exposed flesh in front of her. “Holy fuck,” she exclaimed on a sigh.

Another smirk crept across your face. “What? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think these were the first you’d ever seen!”

She shot you an unamused look before diving in, suckling at one of your breasts and pawing at the other. Her eyes stayed unblinking, watching you as your head relaxed further into the pillow and soft sounds spilled from your lips.

“Am I doing ok?” She asked in a whisper.

“More than,” your voice came out soft and sweet, causing the tips of your lover’s ears to tint pink.

Hazel trailed downward, her soft lips leaving kisses all the way down to your stomach, her tousled hair tickling your skin. She paused at your cotton panties, her thumb passing over the fabric with uncertainty.

“Need help taking those off too?” You quipped.

“Definitely not,” she replied, seizing the waistband and sliding them off your legs.

Hazel gazed upon your naked body as if she were an artist, and you her masterpiece. Her hands hesitated before resting on your ribs, fingernails gently scratching down the length of your sides. She bent down, planting kisses on your hip bones, reveling in your quiet whimpers.

“Hazel…” you purred, and she got the message. Her hand slipped between your legs, fingertips tracing your entrance before sliding inside.

“Ouch,” you hissed, sitting up in pain.

Startled, Hazel pulled her hand back. “W-what? What happened? Shit, did I hurt you?”

“Kinda…” you paused, trying to pinpoint the discomfort. It almost felt like she had unraveled a paperclip and impaled your core—an unpleasant sensation you couldn’t explain until you saw…

“Hazel,” you exclaimed with a laugh. “You kept your rings on!”

“Yeah…” she muttered, cradling the hand that burned you. “I thought you liked my rings.”

“I love your rings,” you assured. “Just not inside me.”

“But the characters in the fanfictions I’ve read keep their rings on, and the feedback is always positive!”

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from giggling at her protest. “Hazel, those fanfictions are written by people who probably haven’t experienced the real thing. Trust me, rings up there? Uncomfortable at best.”

Hazel nodded, mumbling a sheepish apology and removing her rings before slipping two fingers back in. “Better?”

“Much.”

With her confidence temporarily shaken, Hazel began to move against you, slowly, steadily, studying your facial expressions. Each gasp, every subtle twitch helped her gauge what you wanted, what you needed from her. She may have gone in blind, but she was a gifted learner, and you her favorite subject.

Soon after Hazel regained her certainty, you started to feel that familiar ache within your core. “Hazel… doing so good… my pretty girl… I’m so…”

She perked up, still keeping her hands where you seemed to want them. “Really? You mean it? Should I do anything different?”

You were about to shake your head, but stopped when you got an idea. “Do this with your fingers,” you demonstrated by curling your own.

She followed suit, reveling in your little mewls when she scratched against your g-spot.

But you weren’t finished yet. “Fuck… Hazel… almost… now just move your palm…”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Hazel curved her palm, stimulating your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you like a flash flood breaking through a dam. Your back arched, legs shaking, chest heaving as you rode out your climax. Hazel wouldn’t, couldn’t look away; a moment ago she had been naive, inexperienced, but now the prettiest girl she’d ever seen was creaming all over her fingers, and it was all her own doing.

Her movements halted at what she hoped was the right moment. She withdrew her fingers, curiosity overtaking her as she popped them into her mouth and moaned at the taste, instantly regretting not going down on you. Her mind swirled, flashbacks of what just happened mixing with the oblivion of what to do next.

“Hazel,” you said finally. “Come lay down.”

She crawled back up to you, laying her head on the pillow. “Did I do ok?”

You giggled. “You did perfect.”

A grin spread across her face, reaching from ear-to-ear. Her eyelids were already drooping. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” you rolled over, wrapping your arm around her waist and nuzzling into her hair. “Go to sleep, my love. You’ve had a big night.”

She snuggled up closer to you, muttering a barely-perceptible ‘I love you’ before drifting off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @k1ssm3m0re @joanvisitsrome @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @09carriages @hazelvrr @ummlover @lovinglynny @lilyannez @at1nyzen @lovepity @camilleee222 @reiisstuff @sofi4v13 @pensoterios @everybodyhatesari @sapphicarribean @sam-cooperrr @gay4lanadelrey666 @nickeverdeen

[bunni-v1]

Past and Future (Happy Birthday Lighter)

🍓Finished this shit at 4:30am, if y'all don't enjoy this I will kill myself. Anyway had fun writing this, it's more of me fucking around and finding out with Lighter's character, but I think it's fluffy and cute so... enjoy lol

TW: Mentions of Death; Suicidal ideation

Info: Lighter x GN!Reader; Angst to Fluff (?) Kinda?; hurt and comfort (i think??)

Word Count: 2k

December 27th. Two days after Christmas, five days before New Year's. Oddly placed on the calendar, awkwardly smooshed between two major holidays in New Eirdu. To most, it was insignificant, just another day. To Lighter it was something he dreaded each year. Between the holiday cheer and the buzz of excitement for the new year, it was nothing more than a looming cloud dampening his mood.

December 27th, Lighter Lorenz’s birthday, one of the worst days of his life.

He didn’t hate birthdays, they were nice when they were for other people. He had to admit he enjoyed getting gifts for others and seeing their eyes light up when they opened it, and the light atmosphere when everyone sang a horrendously off-key rendition of the birthday song was hard to hate. They were celebrations of the life of that person, a hurrah to cheer them into another long year until the next came around. He just hated his own.

Gifts and cake and warm fuzzy sweet nothings acted only as reminders that he was alive. He was alive, and everyone else who deserved to be wasn’t. Another marker of another year since he lost everything. He wanted to pretend it wasn’t there, maybe sleep until the 28th or run away for a while, but the girls wouldn’t let him.

They’d managed to weasel his birthday out of him about a year into his being here, and they made a point to celebrate it each year. Nothing big, they knew he wasn’t one for huge crowds outside of his fights, but still a party where they showered him with gifts and congratulations that he did not deserve. He didn’t have it in him to tell them to stop.

So, year after year he grinned and bared it with as much grace as someone as fucked up as he could. It wasn’t hard to be grateful for all they did for him, but it was always hard to smile and accept it like he deserved it. The nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy, not when his stupidity cost the lives of good people – wonderful people, who he loved.

He usually only lasted until Burnice got out the nitro fuel, then he would quietly slip away from his own party to be alone. The quiet was easier on his mind than the distractions of colorful confetti and sweet cake made just to his taste. He liked to sit in the pain, to recede into that cocoon of hurt, as if to apologize to his friends by torturing himself. 

This year was no different, of course. Just as Burnice handed out the nitro fuel, he quietly slunk into the shadows, smiling to himself as the rest of the Sons of Calydon remained celebrating in his steed. He walked his way to his bike, sighing in the cool night air. The breeze on his skin was the only comfort from the hell in his mind.

He let the air out, hand tucking into his pocket to pull out the little thing of candy he carried around on him. The little lemon drops fall into his palm with ease, and he tosses them back with practiced ease. He rarely felt like smoking anymore, but his birthday was always a struggle. The heightened emotions made him want to take the easy route out, to fall back on his old ways and make stupid mistakes in hopes it would make him feel better. Instead of giving in, though, he sucked on those candies like a saving grace. It was the least he could do for his old friends.

As he stopped in front of his bike, he shoved the candies back into his pocket. Taking a second to himself in the quiet of the night. It was almost over, just a few more hours, and the pain would lessen back down to an ache again. A little longer and he wouldn’t have to worry about constant reminders of being alive, and he wouldn’t have to save face for everyone else’s sake.

“Lighter?” A quiet, soft, almost worried voice from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes softening when he saw it was you. You’d been quiet about his birthday all month, not bothering him with any reminders. You knew, intrinsically, how much he hated it. You always knew everything about him, it was an infuriating quirk of yours that he would never want to go away. 

“Hey, dollface,” his voice just as quiet as he raised his arm for you to duck under, “got tired of the party?”

You press yourself into his side, enjoying the warmth of your personal heater, “I saw you leave and I wanted to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Me stupid? Never. Just needed some air.”

“Is this getting some air just for you, or could you use some company?” You offer, giving him the reins.

He liked the alone time, he wanted to wallow in self-pity more than anything in the world. His head reminded him that he deserved to be alone on a night like this. Yet, your eyes flutter a little at him, and your lashes brush away those awful thoughts like nothing. 

“I’ve always got room for you,” he hums, giving you one last squeeze before helping you on the bike.

The drive is peaceful, the breeze cooling his hot skin like an apology from the world for all he’d been put through. He doesn’t think he deserves it, but he wouldn’t deny the feeling either. Your arms wrapped firmly around his middle, head pressed against his shoulder only calmed him further. It grounded him back in the present, reminding him that the past had long passed and that he still had things to live for.

The Sons of Calydon, who took him in and cared for him despite how distant he was at the start. The Proxies, who took special care to stop by earlier and give him a gift, congratulated him for being so strong and thanked him for his constant help when they needed it. The other former members of his mercenary group who, despite how much he wanted to deny it, held no ill will to him and wished him the best for the future.

And, of course, you curled against his back. You trusted him with your life, and he would easily lay his down for you – not that you’d let him if you had any say. You kept reminding him every single day that he was someone worth loving, that he was more than his past, and that he was the one who could define what his future looked like. It was hard not to picture it without you there, not with how attached he’d become to your little displays of love for him.

Displays like this, following him out of his party to make sure he wouldn’t do anything to hurt himself more than he was already hurting. He smiles warmly back at you as he eases his bike to a stop at his favorite quiet spot. You smile back pressing a kiss to his shoulder before moving to get off the bike.

You intertwined your fingers with his like it was second nature as you walked to the fence at the cliff's edge. From here you could see the endless desert, and the edge of the hollow, the moon peaking over it in an almost beautiful display. He helps you sit on the fence, placing a protective hand around your waist to keep you from falling forward.

Your hand presses his head into your shoulder, scratching at his scalp with such care it nearly makes his knees buckle. Another reminder of what he has that he couldn’t afford to lose. No one has known him the way you know him, no one has ever had the effect you have on him. It was almost enough to make all the horror of his past dissipate in his mind, but a small part of him still clung to it. Unwilling to allow himself to fully forget.

“You okay?” You ask, interrupting the quiet bubble that had formed around you.

He nods, “Thinking.”

“About…?” You urge with a raise of a brow, unbearably cute in his mind's eye.

He smiles, genuine for the first time that night, “About how much I love you.”

You shake your head at him, but you don’t argue with him about how he’s lying, or try and force him to tell you everything. You don’t need to. You always trust that he’ll tell you when he’s ready. It’s another thing about you that he couldn’t risk losing.

You let the quiet fall over you again, leaning into his chest with a content hum. He allows himself to indulge in your affections for now, preferring having you here in his arms than staring aimlessly at the skyline by himself. It was easier to swallow the ache in his throat with you to soften the harshness of the feeling, regardless of whether you knew you did it or not. 

He wonders, hopelessly, what his old friends would think of you. They would like you, he was sure of that. You had a personality that would let you fit right in with their eclectic group. The idea of you smiling side by side with them warms his chest, his heart aching as it fades away. A dream he’d never get to see.

He’s not aware that he’s crying, he’s not sure how long he has been crying, all he knows is that you turn to him and cradle his face in your hands. They wipe at his tears without needing to be asked, another quiet reassurance that you cared for him regardless of what was going on in his head.

Lighter sniffles pathetically as his eyes lock with your worried ones. You seem to know what's wrong without him needing to say it, which he likely wouldn’t be able to do if you weren’t able to deduce it on your own. You frown at him, bringing him down to kiss his forehead.

“I’m sorry it’s so hard,” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him.

He pulls you in tightly, desperate for the skinship you offered up, “It never gets easier. Everything is a reminder.”

“I know, that’s okay,” you press a kiss to the side of his face, “I don’t think you need to forget it, Lighter. I think you need to learn how to live with it.”

He closes his eyes, the hollow where they’re buried fading from sight as if looking at it would blind him now. He holds you even closer, letting your words sink in. Learning to live with it, sounded much easier than it probably was. Maybe you were right though, he’d done so much wallowing and running, maybe it was time he found a way to live with the pain.

“Mistake, failure, accident… it doesn’t matter what you call it,” you continue, pulling him back to look him in the eyes, “It’ll always hurt, but that hurt is a reminder of how human you are. You don’t want to lose that. Remember it, feel it, and they’ll never really leave you.”

You swallow, taking him in with those pretty eyes of yours. It’s not perfect, but it’s what he needed to hear tonight. He presses you into a kiss, soft and light and nervous. He was afraid you’d disappear if he was too rough. You melt into it, indulging him like he hoped you would. This was the only way he knew how to show you his appreciation, words would never be enough to display how deeply he cared for you.

When he pulled away you were breathless, face flushed from lack of oxygen, and indescribably beautiful. He smiled subconsciously at you, and you returned the look with all the love and admiration in the world.

“Happy Birthday Lighter,” You say soft as the wind still tussling your hair, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” He repeats back, and he feels the ache in his chest lessen every second he spends looking at you. You taught him a lot since he met you. A lot about himself, a lot about those around him, a lot about you. Most importantly, tonight you taught him that despite his past, he made a future for himself that he should be more determined to remember to protect.

[hoothalcyon]

Thoughts on the reunion scene:

that was pure poetry

I was yelling for Runaan to touch Ethari's hand AND THE GAY FOOL DID IT! HURRAH!

it was everything I've ever wanted

definitely worth the 5 year wait

I love that it was an entire moment filled with many big feelings

such a beautiful kiss with parallels to the Heartbloom scene!

the heartbreaking parallel to Ethari seeing Rayla in s3 e3

THE VOICE ACTING

Ethari's face. oh my GOD

RUNAAN SURGING FORWARD TO KISS ETHARI TO PROVE HE'S REAL

M Y H E A R T

Ethari's second "my heart" filled with so much joy and relief and AGH

This scene feels like it was done in the best possible way it could've been done. some serious love and effort went into this on every level and you can feel it.

the way they smile at each other after their first kiss

[skalfy]

Misunderstandings

alexia putellas x reader, ~4.1k words, part 1/2 - Part 2 here

angst in this part, but planning for a happy ending.

Hi! for people waiting for part 3 of the Misa story I promise I am working on it, just been busy and got caught with some other ideas, including this one. Hope y'all enjoy this in the meantime!

Also please feel free to send me requests, I am not very quick, but would love to take on some ideas. I don't really have a complete list of players I will/won't write for, but if you send me one for someone I won't, I'll reply and let you know so you can send it elsewhere :)

--

You had no idea how you had gotten off on the complete wrong foot with Alexia Putellas.

It had only been a month since you joined Barcelona on a three year deal, fulfilling a lifelong dream while launching you far out of your comfort zone. You were shy, and coming from Tigres, and before that, college football in America, you hardly even had a former opponent to befriend. All of your new teammates were strangers, and in some cases, even strangers you’d looked up to for years. All of your teammates except one, that was.

In a strange twist of fate, you had met Ingrid Engen almost a decade prior, when the two of you were both 17. You had an aunt--not a real one, but one of your father’s old friends from college-- who had moved to Norway a few years before you were born. Your family had gone to visit Aunt Anna every couple summers, spending a week or two seeing the fjords and the beautiful traveling the countryside. The summer you were 17, Aunt Anna had invited you to stay for a whole month. It was meant to be a sort of final hurrah before you started college in the fall, and your parents agreed without much debate.

Your second night at Aunt Anna’s house in Melhus, you had headed to the football pitch down the street with the intent to complete your assigned summer workout, and instead you had met Ingrid. That evening on the pitch was the start of a whirlwind month-long friendship as the two of you bonded over your love of the sport, then grew to find you had much more in common beyond that. One night as you sat on your bed in Anna’s house, Ingrid had told you that she was gay, opening up about the feelings she had for one of her U-19 national teammates. She held you in a tight hug as, for the first time, you said out loud that you thought you might be gay too.

You had said a tearful goodbye at the end of the month, but stayed in touch with Ingrid somewhat throughout the years, exchanging infrequent texts congratulating each other on football achievements or to check in on life. You had been pleased to hear that things worked out with her national team crush, Marie, though sorry to hear it ended a few years later. She had cheered you on in turn when you had your first serious relationship with a girl at college. When you first arrived at Barça, the two of you hadn’t seen each other since that month in Melhus, even with your respective places on your senior national teams, but you still considered her a trusted friend.

During the your first month with the Blaugrana, you had gravitated immediately toward Ingrid. You were delighted to fall back into the easy friendship you had shared so many years ago, and it helped that you were nervous to attempt to befriend your other teammates. You worried that you were monopolizing Ingrid’s time, but she easily assuaged your concerns, telling you that she was happy to spend the time together and that she would be there to support you as you took opening up to the team at your own pace. She offered you an open invite to have dinner with her and Mapi whenever you were ready to branch out.

Though you mostly kept to yourself and Ingrid, the rest of the team seemed friendly and open for the most part. Pina and Patri didn’t seem to mind your shyness and often chattered happily to you, managing to include you as a third member of their two person conversations in the changing room. Your spanish wasn’t perfect, but three years playing in Mexico had brought you up to a passable level.

Keira and Lucy, often accompanied by Ona, would also frequently bring you into conversations. You got the sense that it was as much for Keira’s sake as yours, she seemed more than pleased to have another native english speaker to chat to. You appreciated their dynamics, full of biting wit and teasing that reminded you of time with your national teammates.

The one person who seemed to hold nothing but animosity towards you was the one who you had been most excited to play with. You racked your brain, but couldn’t place any reason why you so often seemed to be at the receiving end of Alexia’s ire, but it was unmistakeable. At best, she ignored you-- the few mornings you had arrived early enough for the two of you to be the only ones in the changing room, she remained stubbornly silent, hardly acknowledging you at all besides a flat look as you entered. At worst, she singled you out in training, barking critique after critique. You had a relatively thick skin, but the captain’s intense disapproval wore on you as it never seemed to relent.

The obvious explanations that you could think of for her behavior were out. You were a forward, used to playing out and out striker or tucked under as a false 9, but you hadn’t played midfield since a few times in a pinch in college, so even setting aside her unmatched abilities, she couldn’t possibly think you were threatening her place. You had hardly ever played against her, coming off the bench late in a game once against Spain, and playing most of a friendly with Tigres. You had certainly never put in a risky tackle against her, you didn’t think you had even made any impact on her. Certainly nothing she might hold a grudge for-- you hadn’t, say, nabbed a winning goal.

As far as you could tell, it seemed like it was something you had done since joining Barça, because she hadn’t seemed so frosty on your first meeting. The captain had been quiet but polite as she welcomed you to the team, even returning the shy smile you had given her when you were introduced, but by the end of the first week it became clear that you had drawn her ire.

You had asked Ingrid for her opinion, and, while she agreed that Alexia did seem to be especially critical of you, she couldn’t come up with an explanation. After thinking through it, she optimistically suggested that it could be a misguided attempt to help you adjust to the Barcelona playstyle. At the skeptical wince you gave her in response, she offered to ask Mapi to weigh in. You thanked her, but declined. Alexia’s best friend’s opinion would likely be your best chance to understand, but you were wary of putting either Ingrid or her girlfriend in an awkward position.

--

A few days after that conversation with Ingrid, a particularly bad day of practice with Alexia all over your every move had you feeling desperate. You had stuck it out to the end of the session, but raced away as soon as you could, eyes hot with unshed tears and face red with embarrassment and exertion. You passed through the changing room only long enough to kick off your boots and grab your keys and phone. Jana was inside and changed already, on a slightly shortened training plan as she returned from injury, and she called out in concern as she saw you dart for the exit.

“¿Estás bien, Y/N? ¿Qué pasó?” You shook your head as the younger player stepped toward you, not sure whether you were answering no to the first question or trying to deny anything was wrong. Either way, Jana took matters into her own hands, grabbing you gently by the elbow and guiding you to face her. “Let me drive you home, vale?” you choked back a sob and let the defender walk you towards her car.

You told Jana which apartment building you were in and she didn’t bother to plug it into the GPS, navigating the short drive easily. She had turned on some music and you were grateful that she let it play quietly without asking you any more questions. When you reached your building, she turned the car off and climbed out, circling around to meet you at the passenger side door, clearly intent on seeing you all the way in. You let her walk you through your apartment door, sinking onto one of your kitchen chairs once you were in. The defender stood at the edge of the kitchen, looking a little uncertain.

“¿Quieres que llame a alguien? Call someone?” she asked.

“Voy a llamar a Jenni. Gracias por todo. Puedes quedarte si quieres.” you replied, managing a genuine smile at the young defender. She smiled back, pulling out the chair nearest you to sit.

Jenni had been one of your closest friends at Tigres, and she was eagerly checking in on your move to Barcelona every day, but you had held back about the challenges you were having with Alexia. You were afraid to gossip about the captain, especially with Jenni, and you weren’t entirely sure what kind of reaction to expect. But after the day you had, you craved Jenni’s support and guidance too much to keep holding back.

The phone only rang twice before Jenni picked up, greeting you with a cheery “¡hola, cariño!” you tried to answer her in return, but you were caught off guard by the wave of tears that surged back at the sound of her voice. All you managed was an urgent sniffle as you fought to hold the tears at bay.

“¿Cari? ¿Qué pasa?” Jenni’s voice, now concerned, crackled through your phone’s speakers again. After a moment, you felt Jana’s hand slide onto your knee comfortingly. You turned to her and saw that she had reached her other hand out, palm up. You handed the phone to her and watched as she immediately brought it to her ear.

“Hola, Jenni. Es Jana.” she greeted her former teammate before launching into a stream of spanish too quick for you to try to follow. You zoned out to the sound of Jana’s voice, focusing on deep breaths to unclench the tight knot of tears high in your throat.

You had managed to relax yourself considerably by the time Jana brought your attention back with a light squeeze to your knee where her hand still rested. You looked up to see her holding the phone between the two of you, an expectant look on her face.

“Jenni asked if you are ready to tell what’s wrong.” You nodded and took a deep breath.

“Alexia hates me. I don’t know what I did, but she hates me and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“How do you know, what is she doing? Cari, Alexia is shy and competetivo. Maybe she doesn’t know she is hurting you.”

“No, Jen.” you felt a tear roll down your cheek. “She knows. If it’s just the two us she will ignore me, she can’t even look at me. When we are with the team she tells me everything I do is wrong, my touch, my passes, my shots. I know I am not as good as everyone else here, but I’m trying and none of it is enough for her. I can see how she is patient and kind with the young ones, so I know it is about me.”

“Es verdad, I haven’t been in the practices, but the others have been worried about it. I didn’t know it was so bad, but Ale has been muy dura.” Jana chimed in, and you were a little surprised to hear her mention the team was concerned.

“I thought I wanted to play here, but I can’t do this for three years. I just want to be back at Tigres.” you admitted.

“Lo siento, Y/n. Lo siento mucho. I wish I was there to hug you.” you could tell she meant it by the waver in her voice, and it made you miss her even more fiercely.

You talked through everything you could think of, all your interactions with Alexia, every idea you had eliminated for what went wrong. Jenni and Jana alternated between outrage and murmured words of comfort, but mostly just listened as you vented everything you had been holding in for weeks. By the end, you actually felt better. Whether it was the release of finally letting everything go, or the relief of hearing two people who knew Alexia agree that something wasn’t right, a weight was definitely lifted from your chest.

“So what should I do?” You finally asked Jenni. “How can I fix whatever this is?”

“Oh, nena, you shouldn’t fix this, it’s Alexia who needs to. Quandó ella escuche lo que tengo--”

“Jenni, no porfa! You can’t talk to her about this.” You loved Jenni, hot head and all, but you couldn’t let her go off on Alexia about this. “Thank you, I know you would do that for me, but I need to do this. I don’t want her to think-- I can’t ruin—”

“Vale, I understand, cari. I won’t say anything, prometo.” Jenni saved you from struggling to explain further. In the pause that followed, Jana spoke suddenly from next to you.

“I think you need to talk to Ale. O sea, if you want to understand what is in her head. Maybe Mapi knows, but,” she stopped with a shrug, and Jenni finished for her,

“Only Ale knows what Ale is thinking. Jana is right.” You nodded, even though Jenni couldn’t see you. She sighed over the phone, then continued. “It might be easier if you are gentle. Even if she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Gracias, Jenni.” You were suddenly very tired. “Te amo mucho. I wish I was back with you.”

“Yo también, nena. Te amo mucho. I am here if you need me.”

“I know. Good night.”

“Good night.” You hung up the phone and placed it on the table.

Jana stood from the chair next to you and held a hand out to you. When you took it, she pulled you gently to your feet, then wrapped you in a hug. You immediately softened into the embrace, grateful for the comfort. She held you close for a long moment, then released you into a light hold.

“I know you have Ingrid, but I’m here for you too, Y/n. We haven’t had much time to get to know each other, but I’m glad you are at Barça and I want to be your friend.” The earnest look in her eyes as she spoke nearly had your own tearing up again. You tugged her back into a hug, squeezing her fiercely before you let go.

“Gracias, Jana. I want to be your friend too. Thank you.” You could feel a smile break across your face, and she grinned in return. “I should let you go home before it is too late. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yes, gracias. It is a short drive, we are almost neighbors. You can visit me soon and I will show you!”

You walked Jana back down to her car, exchanging numbers before you said your goodbyes. Despite everything, you felt a glow of hope for your future at Barcelona. At least you had a new friend and some kind of plan.

--

You were halfway through your pre-practice routine the following morning when your phone chimed with a message. It was Jana.

Jana: ¡Hola! Do you need a ride this morning?

Jana: Because I made you leave your car

Jana: Not sorry for that 😋🚙

You had completely forgotten about your car, so you were grateful for both the reminder and the offer.

You: Yes, thank you! I can walk to you if that is easier.

Jana: Do not worry, I will pick you up. 20 minutes?

You: Perfect

True to her word, Jana picked you up outside 20 minutes later. The drive was much more lighthearted than the previous night. You asked about Jana’s english, curious about why it was so good when she had spent her whole career in Spain. She started to explain that it was part of the curriculum at La Masia, but then cracked a smile and confessed that it was mostly because she was dating Jill and it was much easier than learning Dutch.

You had been curious about the rumors around the two, and seeing the way Jana lit up made you glad to hear they were true. You said as much to the defender, which led to her telling the story of how they met during the rest of the drive. The sweet story left you both in a good mood as you pulled up to the training center.

You climbed out of the car and grabbed your bag, laughing with Jana as she came up next to you and bumped into your shoulder as you started to walk together. For the first time in a while, you didn’t feel dread at the thought of walking into training, and you weren’t desperately searching for any sight of Ingrid. Jana seemed to be noticing the same thing.

“You will have to let me take you home more often if it puts you in this good of a mood!” She said, wrapping one arm around your shoulders.

You were about to respond when another voice beat you to it.

“Jana. Y/N.”

You froze, looking up to see Alexia approaching. Jana squeezed your shoulder where her hand rested. The captain had an unreadable expression on her face, eyes darting from you to Jana, then back to you.

“Hola, Capitana.” You said, lowering your gaze as her eyes met yours.

“Can I talk to you?” It was clear that the question was directed at you. When you didn’t immediately respond, she spoke again, voice softening almost imperceptibly. “Jana, vé sin nosotros. Iremos pronto.”

Jana caught your eye and you nodded slightly. You appreciated her willingness to look out for you, but you didn’t want to get her in trouble, not to mention you wanted to speak to Alexia anyway. The defender gave you a final squeeze to your arm before walking past Alexia toward the training center.

The two of you stood in silence. For a moment, your mind raced to guess what she had stopped you to say, but you pushed the worry down. With the way your relationship was going, it hardly seemed worth predicting what her latest criticism would be. You stared over Alexia’s shoulder, waiting.

“Jana has a girlfriend.” It was maybe the last thing you expected the midfielder to say, and you were caught completely off guard.

“What? I—I know.” You sputtered out. Jana’s last comment jumped into your mind, and when Alexia didn’t say anything else, you felt the need to continue and clarify. “What Jana said… She didn’t mean what it sounded like. She gave me a ride home last night and then this morning.”

“Bueno.” Alexia finally said, quieter than before.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, voice flat.

“Ah...” she hesitated. “No.”

The blonde turned and walked away as you watched. The good mood you had only a few minutes earlier was gone, leaving behind a sort of hollow feeling. Jana had been the one to drive you, the one with her arm around your shoulders, and the one to make a silly joke about taking you home, but still, Alexia assumed the worst of you and you only. Suddenly, you felt like an idiot for thinking you could talk anything out with the captain. A surge of hopelessness washed over you as you imagined her scrutinizing every interaction you had with your teammates in addition to your skills on the pitch, and you felt sick. You walked to where you left your car last night, pulling out your phone to text Jonatan.

You: Lo siento, estoy enferma y no puedo ir a practicar.

--

Once at home, you buried yourself under the covers on your bed. You still felt awful from the interaction with Alexia, but you were overwhelmed by a wave of other emotions-- guilt for missing practice, anger at yourself for letting a personal issue get in the way of your career, and a deep fear that things were not going to get better.

Your phone was vibrating in the other room, but you ignored it, certain it wasn’t anyone you wanted to talk to right now. Ingrid was at the practice you just left, and it was far too early for Jenni or your family to be awake in their timezones.

As you lay bundled in your bed, the adrenaline from your high emotions faded, and you found yourself suddenly fighting heavy eyelids. Slowly, you faded into sleep.

--

You awoke to a loud pounding on your apartment door. Disoriented, you dragged yourself out of bed, padding out into the living room as the noise continued. You flipped the deadbolt and yanked the door open, coming suddenly face to face with your insistent visitor.

“Alexia?”

The blonde shouldered her way past you without a word, marching into your living room and looking wildly around. You closed the door and locked it before turning back to see Alexia peering into your bedroom. You snapped.

“Alexia! What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for Ingrid!” She turned to snarl at you, eyes cold.

“What? Ingrid’s not here, what are you talking about?” You were genuinely confused, and Alexia barreling her way through your apartment wasn’t helping. You reached out and caught her by the elbow as she made to walk into your bedroom. “Stop, please! Can you just explain what’s going on?”

Alexia shook your hand off her arm, but stayed put.

“I’m not stupid. You show up here while Mapi is injured and try to steal her girlfriend. I see you every day at practice all over Ingrid. You don’t talk to anyone except her, you follow her around, you take her out for coffee, all while my best friend isn’t there to see. At first I thought you were just friendly, but it’s only with her.” Her chest heaved as she paused to take a breath. “Then I realized today you skipped practice and convinced Ingrid to join you and I knew.”

Your head was spinning and you were certain your jaw was nearly on the floor. You understood Alexia’s words, but struggled to comprehend what she was saying. As it finally clicked, a burst of laughter rose up in your chest. Alexia looked on, eyes narrowed, as you found yourself almost giggling.

“I’m, I’m sorry. It’s not funny!” You managed, pulling yourself together with a deep breath. “It’s just… you’ve been making me feel awful for weeks now because you think I’m trying to steal Ingrid from your friend? Did you even think to bring it up to Mapi herself?”

The blonde made no move to respond.

“I’ve been friends with Ingrid since we were 17. Mapi knows that. If we had any interest in each other we would have sorted it out long before now. You’re completely right that I’ve been following her around and sticking by her side, but you’re completely wrong about why. God, Alexia, I just came from halfway across the world to play for a team full of people I’ve looked up to for years. I miss my family and Jenni and the rest of my old teammates. A month ago, Ingrid was the only person I knew in this entire stupid country!”

You closed your eyes for a long moment, trying to calm your racing heart. Your body felt like you had just played 90 minutes of a championship final. When you eventually opened your eyes again, it was to the sight of Alexia still rooted to the same spot. She had hardly moved a muscle other than to drop her gaze to the floor, back and shoulders. rigid with tension. You left her in the bedroom doorway and walked over to sink into the same kitchen chair Jana had occupied last night.

“Y/n, I—” she started, but paused at the sound of the lock, then the knob turning on the door. It swung open.

“Y/n! Sorry to use your spare key, but you weren’t answering my texts! I would have come sooner, but I had a dentist’s appointment I had to leave practice for. Are you okay? Are you sick? Jana said you seemed fine until you talked to Alexia this morning, did she say something?”

“I’m okay.” Ingrid’s gaze caught you when you spoke, then rose to look past you as she responded.

“Good, I-- Alexia?”

“Alexia was just leaving.” You spoke before the blonde could. “Are you okay to drive home, Capitana?”

“Sí. Yes.” She answered quietly, finally moving away from your bedroom and towards the door to leave. Before she stepped out, she paused to turn your way. “Lo siento, Y/n. I will fix this.”

When the door shut behind her, you dropped your head into your arms on the table.

Part 2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is intended as a one shot but you also know I'm easy to influence.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Happy birthday!” Vivica shoves the plastic teeth of the dollar store tiara into your hair. 

You try not to glower as the rest of the table roars with laughter. It’s a happy night. You can’t spoil it just because you hate gimmicks. They mean well, you’re just a downer. Like always. 

You force a smile, “thanks, guys.” 

“Don’t thank us, it’s your night,” Jerrod chirps. “Which means you drink for free!” 

Big whoop. You barely drink. You’ll have one or two for the occasion but you don’t like the way it makes your stomach feel. Ugh, stop being such a tight ass. It’s about you but it isn’t. They went to all this trouble planning the night. For you. Your friends. You can at least be thankful for them. 

Yeah, you have friends but how much do they really know you? For as long as you’ve known them, they should know that this isn’t you. They are the ones that want to go out, that want to drink, that want to wade into the unpredictability of the general public. That’s not you. 

“So, what are we having?” Mila asks. 

“Hm, I don’t know. You know I’m not picky.” It all just tastes like alcohol. 

“Ooh, cucumber gimlet. That sounds nice,” Jerrod says. 

“Oh, it really does,” Vivica agrees. 

“I’m going to try the gummy bear. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Mila says. 

“Sure, I’ll try that,” you shrug. 

Jerrod flags down a server and puts in the order. As he does, Vivica stirs around under the table. Mila claps as she reveals the gift bag from beneath. 

“My favourite part,” Mila wiggles with excitement. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to--” 

“It’s only one part of our gift,” Jerrod laughs knowingly. 

You give him a wary look. You don’t like his tone. You accept the gift bag and look inside. You can’t tell what it is. You pull out the tissue paper and a small box wiggles inside. Slowly, you slip it out and just as quickly shove it back in. 

“That’s it. You wanna do it just like that,” Jerrod guffaws. 

Your mouth drops open as you look around the table. The bright pink dildo has your cheeks on fire. You can’t believe they’d bring that out in public. 

“What is wrong with you guys?” 

“Oh, come on, everyone can use a good six inches or so,” Jerrod snickers. “That’s our backup gift. Our real gift is somewhere around here.” 

“Huh?” You peek around the bar. “Like a scavenger hunt?” 

“Oh, it’s a hunt,” Vivica juts out her chin. “You set the target and we’ll take him down for you.” 

“What?” You scoff. 

“Come on, honey, you’re thirty. You need to get one last hurrah in,” Jerrod insists. “When it’s my turn, I want three beefy boys. One in each flavour, blond, brunette, and even a redhead.” 

“I’ll have the same,” Mila smirks. 

You’re embarrassed. Uncertain two. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you. Out of the four of you, you’ve always been the boring one. The sober one. All these years, and you were the one saving them from regrettable drunken mistakes and making sure they don’t leave the bar with creeps. It wouldn’t be hard for them to guess, would it? 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be your wingmen. Wingwomen. Wingfriends!” Vivica says. “How about him?” She points as the server lays out the drinks. “He’s cute. Oh, look at his eyes.” 

“Wow,” Mila preens. “A bad boy. That would be adorable.” 

You want to disappear. You want to dissolve into the cushioned bench. Become a part of it. Life as a piece of a furniture must surely be nicer. 

“And his friends, not bad, huh?” 

You’re speechless. It’s a joke. Even if they don’t mean it as one, it is. All these years and you’ve never been the one approached first. You’re the straggler. You get the odd one out and they get stuck with you. Maybe, all this time, your friends had been too self-absorbed or too drunk to notice that. 

You don’t mean to be bitter. You shouldn’t be. It isn’t their fault you’re so lame. That you’ve gone another year without a single thing to be proud of. Without any change. 

“Right, well, they look busy.” 

“Booooo,” Vivica hovers her glass in front of her mouth. “Who wants to break the ice?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mila stands. 

“Wait.” You blurt out but she ignores you. 

Some birthday. You get to spend it awkwardly making small talk with another disinterested stranger. You try not to show your discomfort. You grab the skewer with gummy bears impaled on it and stir the vibrant red drink. You sip through the thin straw. It makes your cheek pinch painfully. The sugar will do worse to your stomach than the vodka. 

You keep your head down as Mila’s fluttery giggle wafts over. Vivica giggles as she watches and Jerrod cranes to see. You stare at the table and distance yourself from the moment, detaching from your body as the bar hazes around you. 

“Hey, you guys, come on,” Mila calls over, “lots of room.” 

Her waving hand brings you back to the present. Vivica nudges you with her elbow as Jerrod jumps up. He grabs Mila’s drink and you shuffle along behind them. The group of men sit at one of the tall tables. They rearrange themselves and you stand back as the others claim their seats. 

You climb up on the last, balancing your drink and the gift bag, unable to bring yourself to look at the men on either side of you. You fixate on your drink and taste it again, even as the sickly flavour curdles in your mouth. Your friends introduce themselves and you choke on your name before Mila says it for you. 

The men take their turns. Your eyes dart around evasively. A sweltering heat forms a sheen across your face. The one with the frosted tips and glasses is Jensen, the broader brunette in the button-up and blazer is Nick, the biggest with his bushy beard is Sy, and the last one, beside you, with the buzz cut, is Curtis. 

“Nice crown,” Jensen says. “Happy birthday.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reach up and take of the tiara. “Thanks.” 

“You from here or visiting?” Jerrod asks the men. 

“We work at Stacks.” 

“Programmers?” Vivica snorts. “You might know my ex. Two of them actually.” 

They laugh. You don’t know what’s funny. This is weird. You hate that invisible barrier between you and them, that makes you feel like you’re on a completely different planet. You don’t get this part of the script. The prologue is as far as you ever get. 

“How old are you?” Curtis’ deep timbre startles you as it rolls beneath the chatter of the others. You shift in your seat and twist the glass around. 

“Thirty,” you pick up the Tiara, the 3 and 0 nearly hidden by the feathers. 

“Ah, the big one,” he comments. 

“Yeah, just another year,” you put the plastic crown down. 

“What do you do?” 

You sniff and tap your fingers on the cup. You lift it and drain the last of the fruity juice and stringent vodka. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks. 

“My friends are just being goofy. You don’t have to act like you’re into me.” 

“Well, I’m not much of an actor. Never was into theatre,” he says. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Just trying to get to know you, figure that out.” 

“Really,” you give him a sideways look. “Ah,” you hiss in false disappointment, “hate to break the seal but I gotta go the ladies. Excuse me.” 

“Right,” he accepts dully. “How about I get you a refill, for your birthday?” 

“You don’t have to but if you really want to, I could use a ginger ale. Thanks.” You accept as you climb off the stool. 

You cross the bar and stop just at the threshold of the hallway that reads Girls and Boys above. You glance back. Mila has her charming smile on, Vivica is leaning into Sy, and Jerrod and Nick are watching something on his phone. Why can’t you be normal, like them? 

You flinch as you catch Curtis’ eye. His eyes flick to you as he talks to the server. You quickly spin away. You’ll wait until the third round when they’re too tipsy to care. Then you’ll make your exit. 

🍹

The hotel clerk hands you the key card. You don’t make eye contact. If you do, she might see right through you. You shove it in your pocket before the tremour is noticeable. You hurry away to the elevator and tap the button three times. 

You’re not impatient because your eager. You just want to get this over with. Finally. It only took you thirty years. 

The doors open and you step in, relieved that no one else gets on with you. When you’re shut in, you shudder. You’re disgusted. With this. With yourself. But you’re tired. You just want to pull of the bandage. You want to know what all the fuss is about so you can say you’re not missing out on anything. 

Ever since your birthday, since that pathetic deja vu of going home alone, of your friends stealing the attention on what the claim was your night, you haven’t been able to stop those thought. You’re pathetic. A loser. No wonder it’s hasn’t happened yet. Who would want to touch you? They barely want to talk to you. They wouldn’t if you weren’t a leech on your friends’ ankles. 

The doors open and jar you. You stagger then march out. You slide the card out and check the room number again. Your hands shake so bad it takes you five tries to get the green light. 

Inside the room, the nausea swells in your stomach. Your teeth chatter. You go into the bathroom and put the bag on the counter. You dig out the anti-nausea medicine and read the insert; take one or two. Do not take with alcohol. 

You pop the pink pill in your mouth and swallow. You look at your reflection. You look as scared as you feel. No time to waste, you’ve done enough of that. 

You start with the shower. You wash every crook and crevice. You check your legs and under your arms. You only shaved yesterday night but you don’t need any pricklies. And your pelvis. You did a decent enough job trimming that down. 

You get out and moisturise. You don’t want to smell. For once in your life, you don’t want to feel repugnant. You’re not some romantic. You thought of buying lingerie but that only seemed sadder. So you put on a pair of grey jersey pajamas, just a tank top and shorts. 

You don’t want to look like this is a big deal. That you tried too hard. You do your hair and a little bit of makeup. Too much would just get messy anyway. Deodorant, perfume, and mouthwash. You’re as fresh as can be. 

And anxious! 

You take out the box of condoms. You don’t think the pills are working. You want to vomit, even though you haven’t eaten. You grab your phone and check the messages. Shoot, it’s a lot later than you thought. 

‘Cashapp?’ 

Fuck, you forgot. You quickly flip over to your menu and sign in. You send the money and your chest drops. This is it. That’s a hefty wad of cash. You hope it’s worth it. 

You reply to the text; ‘sent’ then the room number. There. Done deal. It’s going to happen. Then you can say, yeah, did it, no big deal. 

You go into the suite and put your phone on the night table. You sit on the bed for a whole second before you bounce off. No, you can’t stay there. No, no, no. You pace and wring your hands as you wait. 

The knock trips you up. You turn to stare at the door and like a horror movie, your eyes widen and your ears ring. He’s here. 

You near the door and stop to look through the key hole. There’s a trickle of relief. He looks like the pictures her sent. That’s good. 

You open the door a crack and look out. He looks annoyed as he checks his watch then tugs on the lapels of his jacket. It looks like a designer; the lining has little emblems on it. He says your name, “that’s you, right?” 

“Hugh? Right?” You blink and he nods as he cheek ticks, “er, come in.” 

You pull back the door and press yourself to the wall. He struts in and clicks his tongue in his cheek. He examines the room as he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the small bench against the wall. You close the door and he whistles. You face him as he tilts his head, looking you up and down. 

“Smells good in here,” he grins and smooths his tidy hair. 

Despite who and what he is, he’s handsome. Well, that probably helps. It’s why you paid half your savings for one night. You sway slightly then swallow down the despair. You’re doing it. You’re really going to do it. 

A fucking prostitute. That’s as good as you can do. 

“How about some music,” he approaches the speaker under the television, “think these things have bluetooth now.” 

“Sure,” you croak, watching him as you cross your arms. It’s not too late. No, you don’t think you’ll get a refund now. 

He takes out his phone and swipes around. He holds a button on the sound bar and it chimes. Soft R&B drawls from the speaker. You bite your thumb as you stare at him. 

“So...” he looks at you. 

You nod and clear your throat. You don’t know what to do. You don’t think the whole foreplay thing is going to happen. 

He drags his hands down his cream sweater. He doesn’t really dress like an escort. Or maybe you just put too much trust in movies. He lifts the hem as you stay as you are. Your feet are glued to the floor. 

He strips off the sweater and reveals a muscled torso and a thicket of dark hair across his chest. You don’t expect it as he sports a clean shave on his jaw. You clamp down on your arms as you keep them folded across your chest. 

“Like what you see?” He winks and bites his lips. 

He’s good. You almost believe him. If you weren’t missing a chunk from your bank account, you might. 

“Come on, baby, why don’t you get some wine going,” he purrs. 

A distraction. Thank god. You go to the bar fridge and take out one of the mini bottles of white wine. You peel off the foil over the cap but can’t break the seal. You struggle, trying to hide your effort, but sense him coming close. 

“I just need to find some glass,” you say. 

He chuckles and takes the bottle. His blue eyes devour you as he cracks the seal and flicks the cap away. He drinks directly from the bottle and smirks. 

“No need. Go on,” he offers it up. 

Your lips twitch and you take the bottle. You drink, nearly gagging. You swallow and hand it back. He swigs as he watches you. 

He is so good looking. You wonder how he even got into this. He’s built like a god. No, a gladiator. You’re such a frigging dweeb. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta be uptight,” he gives the wine back to you, “relax, enjoy the wine. You paid for the night. No hurry.” 

You nod and drink again. It goes down easier. You return the bottle to him and he strides to the bed. He sits and pats the other side of the mattress.  

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

You quiver and lock your arms straight. You are conscious of every single part of you as you near him. You sit stiffly and stare ahead. The music drones as he gulps again. He bends forward to set the empty bottle on the floor. 

You wince as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He traces the strap of your tank top and pulls you against him. You shiver as he brushes up your neck. 

“This your first time?” 

You twitch then make yourself nod. You wait for him to laugh. He doesn’t. 

“Well, let’s go slow, then.” 

“No,” you erupt. “I mean--” you grip your knees and steady yourself. “I want to just do it. Get it over with.” You grit your teeth and force a breath out your nose. “There’s condoms in the bathroom.” 

Now he laughs. “Huh, you know what you want.” 

You don’t reply. You can’t. That was the last of your courage or whatever you want to call it. 

He goes into the bathroom and you list as he opens the box. He emerges and examines the square wrapper. It looks even smaller in his large hand. He rests his other on the top of his pants. 

“How do you want it?” He asks. 

You stare at him. How do you want it? You don’t know. You raise your brows helplessly. 

“Wanna get naked?” He suggests. 

You look at the bed. You blink long and hard. Your head feels fuzzy. Must be the wine. 

“Right,” he sighs and undoes his zipper. You peek up long enough to see the top of his boxers. You back away and crawl up the bed. 

You face away from him as you strip off your shirt, then your shorts. You jitter as you lay down flat like a plank. You stare at the ceiling as the wrapper crinkles. He groans as he comes closer to the bed. 

“I like these ones,” he puts a knee on the bed. 

Your breath is like thunder. You feel like your suffocating. He touches your leg and you squeak. 

“Gonna have to open up, baby,” he pets your knee. 

You let him drag your legs apart. You can’t do it yourself. You wipe your face with a shaky hand. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” 

Your eyes snap to him as something clicks. He holds a small bottle with a black label. He squirts the clear oil onto his fingers then reaches between your legs. You return your gaze to the ceiling before he makes contact. 

He rubs the cool lube between your folds. Your thighs quake as he glides up and down. Over and over until the moisture is more than just from the bottle. 

He tickles your entrance and you tense. He rasps as he circles around, “relax.” He pokes a finger into you and you clench. He wiggles it and hushes you as you whimper. “Look, you’re not gonna like it if you don’t chill.” 

He sinks his finger further in then pulls it out again. You blow your breath out and suck it back in as he dips inside once more. You clasp the duvet beneath you as he fingers you rhythmically. Your pussy trembles around him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he pushes a second finger into you. “You wanna be ready, huh? I mean... it’s your first time, you gotta be ready.” 

The comment is like a slap across the face. Still, you can’t focus on his words. Your eyes feel fuzzy and your body is alight with a spectrum of tingles. 

He rocks his hand and you lift your pelvis slightly. He presses his thumb against your clit and you gasp. The mix of pressure and motion is intense. You’re not completely clueless. That toy your friends gave you isn’t the only one you have, you just never used one inside of you. 

You push your head down into the pillows and moan. He hums in approval and brushes his other hand up your stomach. He rolls his thumb around your nipple. 

“Yeah, like that, relax,” he pushes deeper and you whine, little pouts coming as you dig your heels into the mattress. “Oh, my god, baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you?” 

You squeal as you spasm. It’s not your first orgasm but it’s the best one you’ve ever had. It’s wild how different it is with someone, anyone, else. You shake as your voice unfurl and your cunt squelches around his fingers. He cooes at you as he eases you through your climax. 

“Was that so bad?” He wiggles his fingers before he pulls them free. “Huh? Think you liked that.” He gets up on his knees and moves between your legs. He strokes his dick, swollen inside the rubber sheath. “Think you’ll like this a whole lot better.” 

You lift your head dozily and stare at him. He’s big. Long and thick. That dildo was probably smaller than him and you left it in the package. 

He moves closer and you let out a surprised chitter. He caresses your thigh and hushes you as he grips your hip. He pumps himself with his other hand and angles his tip along your lips. 

“You said you wanted to get it done,” he pushes his blunt tip along your entrance. “Don’t hold your breath, baby.” 

He pushes into you and you cry put. Oh. That’s not good. The blinding pain ripples through you. This is different too. Not like his fingers. He’s... 

“Too big,” you rasp. “Please-- ah, ah, ah.” 

“Come on, baby, you can take it,” he growls as he inches into you. “Once it’s in, it’ll feel better.” He impales you down to his base and snarls as he leans his head back. He rolls his shoulders and shudders. “Fuck, it’s been a while since I had a virgin cunt.” 

Flames of humiliation lick at you. This man who fucks for a living is taking your virginity like it’s a prize. Another deposit in the bank. Why did you do this? 

“Hugh,” you eke out his name and reach down, pressing your fingertips to his stomach. “I don’t want--” 

He thrusts and you shriek. Your lips form and O as your head falls back down. You whimper as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your fingers furl into fists and your toes curl. 

“Baby, you said you wanted this. You paid for it,” he grabs your wrists and moves your hands above your head, locking them there as he holds himself above you. “Ah, fuck.” He rams into you again and your tears spill over. “Ah, ah, ah,” he continues to thrust, “you are fucking tight. Ah.” 

He closes his eyes as his nostrils flair and he groans, “the way you’re squeezing me--” 

“Please,” you snivel and he snaps his pelvis into yours. You push your legs wider, trying to ease the pressure. “Ow. You’re hurt—ing me.” 

“Argh, yes, oh,” he ruts into you harder and harder. 

The springs of the bed bounce you against him as his pace turns furious. He puffs like an animal as his eyes blare down at you. You writhe and sob, your face wet with horror and humiliation. Your flesh claps together slickly as he raises himself only to drop down with all his weight. Again and again and again. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, you hear that. Your first time and you got about to blow,” he sneers. “Tell me you want me to cum.” 

You gurgle helplessly and he slams into you, “tell me.” 

“Please--” You squeal. “Please just cum. Just...” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grunts as he batters you. 

“Please cum--” 

He bucks wildly and lets out a bellowing roar. He pushes his head up and drones through his climax as he fucks you into the bed. You close your eyes and turn your head away. He slows as your heart pounds in your temples and your skin scalds. What did you do? 

He lets go of your wrists and pulls out of you all at once. He leaves you splayed on the bed. His footfalls slap away to the bathroom and the faucet runs. You don’t dare move, hoping that if you don’t, this will all just turn out to be a nightmare. 

🛏️

You touch your wrist and rip your hand away as if you’ve been burned. The bruises are tender. All of you is, but especially... that part of you. 

You have a pillow under you as you sit on your couch. You can barely put your weight on your pelvis. Each time a pang strikes, you remember that horrible mistake. Now you can really say that it isn’t all it’s made out to be. It’s not worth it. 

You lean on the armrest and stare at the television. You don’t see the faces or hear the words. Like the rest of the world, it’s now a fog. Like that night. The box for the pills said not to mix with alcohol. 

You lean your head in your hand. You don’t want to think about it. That’s worse than what happened. The memory. That never ends. 

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. Vivica called several times. Jerrod once, and all Mila sent was some Tiktok you don’t care about. 

The table continues to vibrate. It agitates you. You get up and stumble. You cup between your legs. You wear only a sleep shirt. You don’t want anything to chafe. You grab your phone and check the ID. Who the heck? 

You answer, “hello?” 

“Hi, is this...” the timbre asks. Do you know them. 

“Uh, yeah, is this the pharmacy?” 

There’s a silence, “uh, no, it’s Curtis.” 

“Curtis,” you repeat. 

“From the bar?” He says uncertainly. 

You already know that. You just don’t believe it. You frown. 

“How did you get my number?” 

“Your friend. Viv. Sorry, I... I guess I shoulda asked you but you left so early.” 

“Why?” You ask then cringe at your own stupidity. 

“Why... because... I want to ask you out. I’m not good at beating around the bush, you know, but you don’t really give a guy a chance.” 

“Asking me out?” 

“Trying.” 

You’re quiet again. It’s like sledge hammer shattering your reality. A couple days ago, you’d be giddy. Not it’s ironic. After what you did. Another laugh in the face. 

“So, did I... just embarrass myself here or...” he huffs. You feel bad. 

You never gave him a chance. You never gave yourself a chance. And now you spoiled it all. You can’t bring yourself to take out your self-hatred on him again. You can humour him for one date. Then you can say, at least, that you’ve done that too. 

“Um, alright,” you agree, wishing it was happier, wishing that it could be different. You’ll have to figure out how to let him down easy. Although Mila says ghosting is even easier. “Sure.” 

“Sure,” he echoes you. “Don’t sound so excited.” 

“Ha, sorry,” you turn and rub your neck. “Yes. Let me know what works for you.” 

“I can do that,” he sounds relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute.” 

“Alright,” you hold back a scoff. “Thanks for calling, Curtis.” 

“No, thank you.” 

He hangs up and you turn the phone to silent. Your eyes sting as you lay it face down on the table and walk away. Things could have been so much different if you weren’t so damn stupid. He’ll figure that out and maybe you won’t have to be the one to break it off. 

[princessbrunette]

your parents were meant to be returning to the farmhouse tomorrow, and outlaw!johnb would have to go back into hiding. but not without one final hurrah.

the old horseshoe — the name of the best saloon in town according to john b, one he swore by for the best drinks and best atmosphere. you weren’t so sure, you were already nervous about sneaking away from home so close to when your parents were supposed to be returning, it simply didn’t seem like a good idea.

but the outlaw himself had convinced you to live life, and that he’s not sure when the next time the two of you would get to actually spend time time together— so reluctantly you trot out the door with him, hopping onto the horse in your dress and boots and forced yourself not to give the house another glance for the evening.

he’s right about the drinks, wrong about the atmosphere. as the two of you sit in a rickety old leather booth in a dimly lit corner of the saloon, there’s no one occupying the dusty floors but the regulars, sat alone harbouring their drinks and the overworked, tired bartenders cleaning tables. john b sits across from you in the booth, staring at his glass of whiskey.

“yeah uh, it’s usually a little more… lively in here.” the brunette winces before grinning up at you sheepishly. he was so charming without trying, your heart flutters and you find yourself giggling.

“i don’t mind. just wanna spend time with you, anyway.” you shrug shyly, and it’s his turn to preen at the sweetness. he stares at you fondly, that warm smile on his face with a hint of sadness in his eyes at your circumstances — and it’s like you read each others mind. your own smile fades and you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink. “i can’t believe we aren’t going to be able to play husband and wife anymore.” you pout, and it’s adorable.

“mhm… well— not for a little while. this situation isn’t permanent okay we just… we need to find a way to get you out of there. you can come live on the road with me… if that’s what you’d want.” he proposes, big brown eyes wide and serious.

“you’d let me?” you tilt your head.

“look i don’t wanna get you in trouble but… i don’t know if i can be without you.” he rasps. you stare, never knowing someone could feel so in love and yet so conflicted on what choice to make. he shakes the moment off, not wanting to dampen the evening with such a proposal and the grin returns to his face. “we can totally talk about it later. for now… why don’t you come round and sit with me? you’re so far away, kinda miss you from over here.” he jokes and you’re hopping up without a thought, scooching round the booth to sit pressed right up next to him where you belonged.

the night goes on, and the saloon doesn’t get any more lively — but you don’t care. the two of you chat, flirt, drink— until you’re feeling warm and hazy, like the night would never end. with this light intoxication comes your need, something you didn’t know the house wine could do.

as he tells an extravagant story from his more reckless days, you shuffle on the warm leather bench, sticky between your thighs and teeth clamping down on your lip. he cuts himself off with a chuckle, leaning in.

“yeah i… can’t focus on the story if you’re looking at me like that, honey.”

“hmm?” you giggle, offguard and he’s already swooping in to kiss you.

one thing leads to another, and he’s got his tongue down your throat. you pull away breathless after a moment, face all hot as you look around for wandering eyes. the two of you really were shoved into a dim corner, and the regulars seemed totally unphased— but still, you weren’t used to being so public. you weren’t even used to being in the public at all.

“johm’bee” you mewl, clutching him all hazy and horny the way he loved. he almost couldn’t believed he’d got you like this in public.

“c’mere, it’s fine.” he hums, easily pulling you to straddle his lap. “no one’s watching. you’re safe with me.” he groans against your mouth as guides you back for more.

as if you can’t help yourself, your hips start to roll on his lap — the coarse, starchy denim of his jeans rubbing right up against your clit through your thin panties beneath your skirt. you glide easily, back and forth — the copious lubrication of your arousal making it easy to do so. he chuckles quietly against you, he should have known you’d be quick to start humping him like a sweet little puppy.

“definitely gonna miss this.” he comments through shared breath as he guides your movements by the ass. he brings you up higher, and your clit catches on his big heavy cowboy belt making you whine loudly.

the outlaw pulls you back gently with a hand softly grasping the back of your neck. the other hand raises to press a finger to your lips, shushing you with wide sympathetic eyes.

“shh shh shh, hey — listen sweetheart.” he cooes and you lock in, eyes teary and doe like as you nod, still humping away on his hard, concealed erection. “you can cum right here, that’s no problem — as long as you know that after this we are going straight back to the house so i can fuck you properly. okay?” he gently squeezes the back of your neck, prompting an answer. your dress was all hiked up, and you were pretty sure that anyone who glances in your direction would see exactly what was going on — but you didn’t care.

“m’hm—okay—yes please!” you pant, forcing your voice into a high pitched whisper.

“alright. atta girl. make a pretty mess for me, honey, i’m here.” he croons, returning his hands to your hips to rocket you straight into a public orgasm.

[itmethanh]

“to the last hurrah…”

meta under cut!

I saw this pinterest photo and was captivated by the lines of the woman’s body. it made me think of clara bc i’m perpetually in love with her and figured what’s more intimate than the gentle touch of someone helping you getting ready and zipping up your dress?

s8 didn’t have many dress up moments but this episode featured fun attire and a hallway scene seeping with tension. it was perfect as the base of a snapshot that is so physically affectionate yet so restrained.

i love the framing of the reference photo. i wanted to recapture that fly on the wall feeling of walking into a moment you shouldn’t have. this is their moment together and it feels like the viewer is intruding.

i didn’t draw their faces fully for the same reason. neither of them can see each other’s face either. maybe because it’s easier this way. maybe it’s extraneous when the obvious is already translated into soft brushes of finger tips and coordinated efforts.

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[sweetbans29]

Teach Me: The Art of You (THE END) - PB

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Previous Part

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: mature, like mature - mature

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist & Teach Me Masterlist

AN: Here we go...for the last time 🫠

Paige's lips met yours for what feels like the first time in forever. The kiss starts off gentle - her hands cupping your face as your hands rest on her chest. You can taste the saltiness of both of your tears mixed in with her lips.

You pull away, resting your forehead on hers.

"Can we go to bed?" You ask.

"Of course," Paige says and helps you up from the couch. The two of you make your way to her room. You crawl in her bed and open your arms to her. She looks down at you with the biggest smile and finds her place in your arms.

"Never wanna sleep without you again," Paige whispers into you.

"You never have to, B," you say and kiss the top of your head.

Over the next few weeks, life goes back to normal - well mostly normal except for the fact that you and Paige have actually started dating. No more having to restrict touches or steel glances. Paige was free to show the world she has been and will always be completely in love with you.

The regular season is coming to a close as the team prepares for March Madness. You alongside the other coaches are spending a lot more time reviewing film and watching other teams. Paige isn't a fan of how much time you are spending in the office but can't be mad that you, without fail, come home to her.

The team decides to go out for one last hurrah before they lock in and decide to do it at their favorite bar. Everyone is over at your apartment getting ready for your fun night out. You are in your room finishing getting ready as Paige is lying on your bed and scrolling through her phone. When she sees you are almost done she gets up.

"Mmmm ready?" She asks as she comes behind you snaking her arms around your waist. Her head finds its place on your shoulder as she looks at you through the mirror.

"Yep!" You say. "It's been so long since I've been out, long overdue."

Paige would be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about you. Ever since the two of you officially got together the lessons had stopped. She didn't mind the fact that they stopped but each day kept getting progressively harder for her to keep her hands off of you.

"S'not the only thing overdue," Paige says as she moves your hair to one side of your neck and begins to leave a trail of kisses down the other.

You sigh, leaning back into her and letting her grace your skin with her lips. She holds you firm against her front as she makes a meal out of your neck. One of your hands rests on top of hers while the other comes up and holds her head in place on your neck.

"No marks," you moan as she sucks on your sweet spot.

"Gonna show them your mine," she breathes out sucking a little harder, her teeth grazing your skin.

You try to move away from her but she isn't having any of that.

"B, no marks," you say again. "I'll show them whose I am another way, trust."

She kisses down to your shoulder. "And how do you plan on doing that?" Paige asks.

"Well, you will just have to wait and find out," you say, your eyes struggling to stay open. "But won't have to if I'm all marked up."

Paige immediately removes her lips from your skin and you want to whine but know you are the one who stopped your girl in the first place. You look at her through your mirror and take in how beautiful she is. Your eyes trace every feature of her face.

Paige feels your gave and her cheeks begin to brighten.

"Why are you staring at me like that, ma?" She asks and hides behind you. You found it to be incredibly cute when she would get nervous around you even after knowing you for years.

"Can't you just let me admire my girlfriend," you say and turn around to face her. She no longer has a place to hide. Your eyes burn into her skin. "Stunning."

"Yo, you two ready or what?" You hear one of the girls yell and you respond.

"Ready, B?" You ask.

"Could just stay here," she says. You laugh.

"Ya right, come on B," you say grabbing her hand and leading her out of your room.

The team heads to the bar. Once you are through the door Paige grabs drinks for the two of you. When she comes back you down half of it in the first sip.

"Woo, slow down there. It's not going anywhere," Paige says, grabbing the glass from your hand.

"Hey!" You say, your hand reaching for the glass she just stole from you.

"Let the girl have some fun," Azzi says. "She has been working her ass off for us."

Paige looks betrayed that Azzi chose your side over hers. Azzi grabs the drink from Paige's hand and gives it back to you.

"Woooow, I see who the favorite it," Paige says.

"I have always been Azzi's favorite," you say and lean over to the curly-haired girl and away from Paige.

"As long as I am your favorite, we won't have any issues," Paige says grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Well..." both you and Azzi say at the same time. The look on Paige's face practically has you and Azzi laughing on the floor.

You pull Paige into a hug, moving your head to whisper perfectly in her ear.

"Don't worry, B - you know you're my favorite. Always have been, always will be," you say as you bring your tongue to the shell of her ear. A move you have learned riles her up faster than most.

Paige jerks away knowing it is way too soon to be leading you out of the bar. She wants to enjoy hanging out with the team before taking you home. She gives you a warning look and you just smile up at her and take another sip of your drink, a smaller sip than the first one.

You both spend time with the team, enjoying each other's company. You are three drinks in when you start dancing with some of the girls. All of which are letting loose and having a good time. Moving your body to the music, you raise your arms and sway your hips. It doesn't take you long to find your girl leaning against the bar watching you dance. You smile at her and make your way over.

"Dance with me B," you say grabbing her hand. She puts her finished drink on the bar and follows you to the middle of the dance floor.

You face her and wrap your arms around her neck, connecting your bodies and moving to the rhythm of the music. Her hands rest on your hips as she looks down at where your bodies connect.

You turn around, making sure her hands stay planted on your hips. Your arms go up in the air again as you begin to grind on her. You hear her let out the lightest gasp as you bend over. When you come up again, you move her hands to rest on your boobs. She gives them a squeeze before running her hands down your stomach, bringing your shirt slightly higher than it already is. Your hips never stoping.

One of your hands comes to cup the back of her head, guiding it to yours as you turn your face to the side meeting your lips together. The kiss is sloppy and rushed, filled with lingering hints of alcohol from your drinks. You turn to face her cup her cheek.

Your tongues fight for dominance, Paige desperate to win.

Before she can, you break the kiss and begin down her neck like she had done in your room. You pay attention to all right places causing the blonde to throw her head back. Your free hand toying with the string at her waistband.

"Take me home," you whisper in her ear.

Before you know it you are being pulled out of the bar. Paige storms past the team, your hand firmly in hers as she makes a beeline to the door.

"Where are you two going?" Evina yells.

"Evina, just enjoy your drink. We all know where they are going," Azzi says sipping her drink.

Paige has you back at your apartment in no time. The second the door shuts she has you pushed up against it. Before her lips connect with yours, you put a hand on her chest.

"What?" She asks until she sees your next move.

You push her back, taking your shoes off in the process, and have her walking backwards all the way to the couch. You push her to sit down as you ever so slowly move on top of her, straddling her.

She watches you in awe as your hands come to her torso, moving your hands up under her shirt. You lean down and plant a kiss on her shoulder.

"Imma need a little more than that, ma," she says, her breath already rigid. Paige has never been a fan of slow - all the hookups she has had have been quick and straight to the point. But as she was teaching you, she slowed down to match your speed. Now though, now she feels like she has made a mistake as she is eager to get to the finish.

"What's the rush babe?" You ask. "Plan on taking my time, still new to this ya know."

You bring your lips to kiss all along her collarbone. She leans her head back against the couch and lets you work. Your hands move to cup her breasts under her shirt and she removes it for you.

Your lips find their way to one of her nipples, swirling your tongue around it and sucking it lightly. Removing your lips from her skin, you cup both of them and kneed them.

"I love these," you say as you continue to massage your girls chest.

"All yours, ma," Paige's voice husky as she struggles to get the words out. You smile.

You kiss down her stomach, peppering kisses over the waistband of her pants. You hook your fingers in her waistband and look up at her for approval.

"Fuck ya, ma," she says as she lifts her hips up and you pull her pants down.

She is now watching your every move as your hands rub up and down her thighs and your lips sprinkle little kisses along the inner more sensitive parts of her legs. She spreads them for you as you park yourself on your knees in front of her.

Your trail of kisses makes its way to the bottom of the last piece of fabric separating you from where she wants you most. You begin to kiss over them, inching closer to her center. When you finally get to the place Paige has been patiently waiting for your lips to meet, she jolts forward.

You look up at her and kiss it again.

"So sensitive baby," you tease her as your hands bring her boxers down. She watches your every move anticipating the next. Never in a million years would she expect you to be the first to please her, she always imagined her pleasing you first. Yet here you are, on your knees just for her.

"May I?" You ask, your eyes trained on her center. Paige doesn't trust her voice and nods vigorously.

"Need to hear you babe," you tease her again. "Can't forget the rules now."

"Fuck the rules," she says and you take that as a green light.

You spread her legs even further apart as your tongue licks a strip of her. The moan she lets out is ungodly. One of her hands is placed on the back of your head while the other shoots its way to cover her mouth. You kiss her bundle of nerves and begin to work.

"Fuck ma, so good. So so good," she mutters as you work on her. One of your hands comes up to massage her left breast. You pick up the speed as moans fall freely from her mouth.

"Just like that, YES, oh fuck," her words coming out in breathy strings. "Close," Paige yells, not able to think of any other words.

You slow your movements to a stop and Paige whines. You look up at her with raised eyebrows as she looks down at you with furrowed ones. She watches you as you bring two of your fingers into your mouth sucking on them. She bites her lip as she watches you - anticipating your next move.

You brush over her sensitive bundle of nerves and her hips jerk forward, begging to be touched again.

You smile as you slowly line your fingers at her entrance. You kiss her thigh as your fingers enter her. Paige moans your name and you watch her in awe. All you want to do is make her feel good.

Your fingers work in her as your begin to suck on her center again. Paige is fisting the couch as she lets out moans left and right.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop," she moans as her back arches off the couch pushing her core closer to you. You work her through her high as she repeatedly says your name.

When she slumps against the couch, you remove your fingers and begin to kiss back up her stomach.

"That was so hot," you say as you kiss her lips.

"You are so hot," she says breathlessly. Her hand coming to cup your face and kissing you again. She tugs at your shirt and you break the kiss, allowing her to remove your shirt.

Paige stands and tells you to jump, which you gladly do, and wrap your legs around her waist. She immediately establishes dominance in the kiss as she walks you to her room. She lays you on the bed and in one swoop has your shorts off. You stare at her with your mouth agape and she just smirks down at you.

Paige crawls over you, causing you to squirm, and comes to kiss you. Your hands come to cup her breasts as she hovers over you. She breaks the kiss and laughs.

"What?" You ask.

She looks down at your hands on her chest and you feel yourself blush, immediately removing them.

"Don't stop," she says shifting her weight to bring your hands back to them. "Touch them, kiss them, suck them as much as you want - I meant it when I said they're all yours."

You smile and bite your lip.

"Never thought you would be a boob girl," she says chuckling, lowering herself to kiss you again. She kisses down your neck leaving all the marks in the world.

"Just yours, you say. "S'cute and little."

"Hey!" Paige jokes but you just pull her back to you. Your hand s come to claw at her back as you stifle moans whenever she finds a particularly sensitive spot.

She kisses down your stomach and grabs the waistband of your intimates, pulling them down with her teeth. You watch her as intently as she watched you just ten minutes ago.

Her lips meet your inner thighs as she hooks her arms around your legs to spread them and grab your ass.

"I've been dreaming about this forever," she says as kisses closer to your center. "How you would look spread out on my bed." You moan at her words and buck your hips craving any sort of friction.

"How you taste," she says as her tongue finds your center. She then goes to work making you feel good. You are a moaning mess as she is now the one feasting on you.

She slows down, removing her lips from your skin uses her thumb to keep a rhythm.

"Open up for me, ma," she says bringing two of her fingers up to your lips. You obey and welcome them in, swirling your tongue around them.

"Good girl," she says as she removes them, sinking down to where she just previously was. Her fingers begin to work in you as her lips attach to you once again.

"Paige," you moan. "Yes, Paige. PAIGE."

You are releasing in no time. Body twitching as you ride out your high. She removes her fingers from you but Paige doesn't stop. Her tongue keeps working on your overstimulated center. Your hands come to her head as your thighs close around her head.

"Paige!" You scream but she keeps going. She doesn't care if you suffocate her - hearing your moans and tasting you has her on a whole new high she never wants to come down from.

"Paige! Ahhh!" You are now trying to pull her head from you. She is relentless. Before you know it you are on cloud 9 once again.

After your ride your second high you fall back against the bed. Paige finally removes herself and lays next to you.

"Holy shit," you say breathless.

Paige laughs and pulls you into her side.

"Babe, we are just getting started," she says and begins to kiss your shoulder.

Your relationship with Paige grows. The two of you continue your time at UConn and are now known as a couple but will always be best friends first.

The two of you walk side by side into Paige's multiple injuries - you being there every step of her recovery and keeping her sane when she feels like she is going crazy. Encouraging her to work on her mental game and not rush the healing process, knowing she wants to get back on the court as soon as possible. You keep her grounded.

Side by side when she decides to stay at UConn for a fifth year - which Geno gladly accepts and knows you would be staying on the coaching staff. He hires you full-time after you graduate but knows you will be going wherever Paige gets drafted.

Side by side when she carries the team back to the final four and then to the championship. Although if anyone were to ask you, and they did, you would say you played a major part in getting them back to the championship. Ultimately winning it all.

Side by side when Paige goes to the draft and gets drafted to the WNBA - moving to a new city and beginning life outside of Storrs.

Side by side when she asks you to marry her, with your dad's permission of course. Letting you plan the wedding of your dreams which really only included her. She watches as you plan the perfect day for both of you and always makes sure that she is okay with your decisions.

Side by side in life. When you tell people about your story, Paige tells them that the two of you have been together since before high school. She likes to say she knew you were the one for her when you walked into the gym during summer training before freshman year. This always gets you to roll your eyes, knowing she actually didn't like you until the end of freshman year but you let her tell the story her way. And you do, you always let her tell your story her way because it never ceases to amaze you how her eyes light up even brighter each time.

You look at Paige and you know. Know that there is no one else on this earth who is a better fit for you. No one who could ever love you better or be better for you than she. You know when you are side by side with her, you have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about because it's Paige. And to you, Paige is your home.

AN: WE DID IT BAN-FAM! WE DID IT! Let me know how you feel about this whole journey, I would genuinely love to know. And as always, thank you for the love and support 💙

[sevensoulmates]

Buddie 7x06 Meta

HURRAH! It's not a four-parter this time!! Just a one-parter! It's a Madney/Chim-centric episode (which by the way I loved) but the buddie we got was AMAZING! I'm so excited for the rest of the season. We're just gonna dive right in!

First, I want to say that with the hindsight of this episode, we now know that the bachelor party was not ACTUALLY something that needed to happen, narrative-wise. It didn't actually contribute anything to the Chim plot, as that would've happened with or without buddie going crazy in the hotel room. So, all of the Bachelor Party was written purely for the purpose of watching Buck and Eddie have a good time. Maybe for comedic relief, maybe for the purposes of furthering their story at a later point in the series. Time will tell.

First, I've seen other people point out that Buck expected Eddie to be early (even though he's the first person there) because he wanted Eddie to help him set up for Chim's party. To Buck, Eddie is the person who helps him with everything. This is Buck's idea, yes, but Eddie is the proverbial co-host in this married dynamic. So Eddie being "late" feels more like Buck being disappointed his partner wasn't there to help him behind the scenes to make everything perfect. It really does make the whole scene feel like Buck-and-Eddie (the bro-in-laws) throwing the party. So of course Eddie's breaking the unspoken rules by being late.

I love how Eddie walks in completely ready to be fawned over by Buck with their couple's outfit. It's hilarious to me because 1.) Tommy was planning on coming, Buck could've told Eddie he wanted to do a couple outfits with Tommy instead?, and 2.) Eddie was fishing for compliments and it just makes me giggle. If Buck wasn't so stressed out over this bachelor party, he likely would've reacted how Eddie wanted and given him a bunch of compliments on his look. It was jaw-dropping. If most of us (the audience) were blown away seeing Eddie in a pink suit for the first time in the bts (to the point where most of us were like "no way he's in character, this has to be Ryan's wardrobe choice"), I know that the other characters were too. It's not Eddie's typical wardrobe choice. In fact, it's such an out-of-character fashion choice for him, that it's unlikely that Eddie just had this lying around in his closet to throw on. He probably had to go and buy a suit like this just for the occasion. Eddie had to put in a lot of effort to do this couple's costume with Buck, and he did it all happily and enthusiastically. We'll come back to this in just a second because...

CLIPBOARD BUCK IS BACK! sans clipboard but you get my drift. I love how this visually connects Buck to his sister and harkens back to a lovely Buddie moment "This is Eddie's house, I'm not really a guest" back in season 3. This time around, we have Eddie assuming he would get special husband privileges and is pouty when Buck doesn't allow it.

BUT at the same time, he's not getting on Buck's case too much about it beyond the initial pouting. He may not know why Buck's so insistent on throwing a party, but he knows it's what Buck wants, so he moves on, and even watches with somewhat amusement when clipboard Buck gets turned on Ravi for doing the same thing later.

I also want to point out that Eddie has never once, ever, been upset with, annoyed by, or irritated with Buck when he's in Clipboard Buck mode. Most of the time, Eddie either finds it amusing cute, or is just generally accepting of it. This is no exception, however, this later devolves into Buck and Eddie going absolutely wild. This further exemplifies how Buck and Eddie accept and support each other, even when the other is being lowkey stupid (everything they do at the bachelor party) or unreasonable (clipboard Buck). It's all very much partner in crime coded.

Framing. Jesus Christ the FRAMING. Tommy walks in and not even two seconds into the interaction, the camera frames Eddie FRONT AND CENTER between them, watching Buck and then watching Tommy. Buck and Tommy hug and when they pull back, there's Eddie watching them with an odd look on his face. I'm not going to go so far as to call this jealousy/pettiness, but it is odd. There's an intimate physical moment between Buck and Tommy, and then Eddie, who constantly haunts their narrative, is just there. And he's actually objecting to Tommy's presence there. Not in a mean or hostile way, but just a second ago he was high-fiving Tommy, welcoming him in, but once the physical special relationship between Buck and Tommy is established, Eddie starts to bristle a little bit.

This entire exchange is just odd. Eddie knows that Tommy is friends with Chim. He has every right to be there for Chim alone. He's also aware that Buck now has a closer relationship with Tommy, and Buck's the only one who wants this bachelor party, so it should be obvious that Tommy would come. And yet...Eddie is questioning Tommy's presence there. He's reducing Tommy to Buck's "date", not Eddie's friend or Chim's friend, or someone who's slowly integrating into the group. No, it only becomes a problem when Tommy is there as "Buck's date".

This is then proven by Tommy, who's actually known Chimney longer than either Buck or Eddie have known him. He has all the right to be invited. But what's especially interesting is Buck's face when Eddie starts expressing objections to Tommy's presence. He looks shocked, a little worried, loss for words. Like he's worried Eddie is disapproving of them. It could be worry lingering from last episode, where Buck was afraid of his queerness pushing Eddie away. It also showcases a bit of awkwardness between Tommy and Eddie too. Eddie has been established as enjoying spending time with Tommy, and now he's hesitant to have Tommy in spaces with Buck as a romantic partner. It demonstrates that maybe Eddie isn't as comfortable with Buck and Tommy together as he led Buck/the audience to believe. But where is that uncomfortablity stemming from? That's yet to be determined canonically.

Buck then goes on the deny that Tommy is his date (for the bachelor party) and insists that Tommy is only his date officially tomorrow at the wedding. I personally don't understand why Buck would need to clarify that Tommy isn't his date to the bachelor party. If they're dates for one, it's usually assumed they're dates for the other, especially given how close the events are. I get that Buck wants to make the night about Chimney, but it can be about Chimney and still have Tommy there as a date.

This is also an interesting line that I've pondered over. Because while it's true that taking Tommy as a date anywhere would be hard launching both Buck's queerness and his relationship with Tommy, which could draw attention away from Madney and to Buck, but it also shouldn't be that big of a deal (and is proven at the end of the episode too). If the wedding had gone to plan originally, then Buck and Tommy going together wouldn't have had to have drawn too much attention. He could've told Chim, Hen, his parents + everyone separately before the ceremony even began. It didn't have to be such a huge deal, so I was wondering why Eddie brings out the usual phrase the show tends to use when they want to remind Buck that not everything is about him. But Buck wasn't trying to make it about him. Eddie should know this. As much as Buck has had issues in the past of taking things far too personally, and believing things to be more about him than they actually are, that's not what is happening here.

I actually think Eddie saying this line is more revealing of Eddie's feelings than it is about Buck making it about him again. It's revealing that Buck, his relationship with Tommy, and Buck's queerness are a big deal to Eddie, enough so that he believes it will draw a lot of attention. And maybe Eddie's not as cool with the idea of everyone knowing about Buck and Tommy as he tells himself. I want to reiterate that I don't believe any of this stems from legit homophobia towards Buck and/or Tommy, but more so a discomfort Eddie harbors about Buck's queerness, what it means for Eddie, and what Buck being with Tommy takes away from Eddie. All of this is unconscious, confusing, and frustrating for Eddie, and therefore what comes out of Eddie's mouth is a barb at Buck's expense. And it's why his reaction to BuckTommy at the end of the episode is kind of muted but mostly positive. He's confused.

Buck had told Tommy previously that it was an 80s theme party and asked him to dress up. This brings me back to my previous point that Buck could've asked Tommy to dress up with him. Instead, Buck and Eddie are framed as the literal "couple" here visually, and Tommy is framed as the odd one out. Not only that, but what he is wearing is a Henley, which as most of us know, is a staple of Eddie's wardrobe. (General author's note: I don't usually harp on about wardrobe choices in the show because that's not my specialty but I will here because it is a textual part of the plot).

We've previously established in the last few episodes that Tommy is a narrative mirror to Eddie. Tommy's meant to be like Eddie in almost every way, same interests, similar personality types, etc. He's even paralleling Eddie here by dressing the same way Eddie normally dresses. But it's being juxtaposed by Eddie standing right beside him (once again Eddie is framed in the middle throughout this entire exchange with Buck/Tommy when Eddie very easily could've just stepped off to the side to let them have some privacy). EDDIE is dressed way differently than he usually is in a bright pink suit, going out of his way to make Buck happy even if it brings him out of his comfort zone wardrobe-wise. And in contrast, Tommy did not take the time to dress up, even though he knew Buck wanted him to. I'm not saying that this makes Tommy a bad person, or inconsiderate of Buck, but it's just one of those little things. One of those forethought things that Tommy just isn't aware of because he's only been dating Buck for a few weeks at this point.

Others have pointed out that Tommy would've had to change out of his clothes and into his uniform regardless if he was on standby, so why couldn't he have at least just added a little bit of 80s flair to his current outfit? It wouldn't have been any more time-consuming. Maybe it would've put Tommy out of his own comfort-zone, or maybe he would've been a bit embarrassed, but that's the kind of thing that one might reasonably risk in order to make their partner happy.

Tommy isn't aware that by not dressing up, he's hurting Buck's feelings. That's just one of those things he wouldn't know about Buck because he does not have the lived experience of what Buck needs emotionally from his partners. Eddie, on the other hand, has years of experience with Buck and knows that if he really wanted to he could be just like everyone else who didn't dress up and that Buck would put on a face of being fine with it, but deep down inside, it would make Buck feel ignored and hurt. Eddie doesn't want to ignore Buck, and as we've seen from his last line about "making it about you", Eddie can't ignore Buck. So even if it means pushing himself out of his comfort zone, Eddie's going to show up in full costume, ready and enthusiastic to be with Buck.

All of this is being done for a purpose. It's to show us that while Buck and Tommy are still learning and developing their relationship, something is off, specifically in comparison to Eddie. The show is purposely framing Eddie as a better partner to Buck than Tommy is being in the current moment. Which is kind of unfair, if you think about it. If the show was setting Tommy up to be Buck's newest love and future endgame, they would instead be giving them opportunities to grow together, to get to know each other. Instead, the show is telling us in every subtly way it can that hey, wouldn't Buck fit so much better with Eddie instead? It's contradictory and doesn't further the plot if BuckTommy growth was the purpose. These bachelor party scenes as plot devices only work if the purpose is to show the audience that something isn't fitting with Buck and Tommy, but whatever that missing piece is, it does fit with Buck and Eddie.

Tommy then doesn't understand that they're supposed to be dressed up as the Miami Vice characters. He instead assumes The Wedding Singer (1998). First, I want to say that this is the 2nd Adam Sandler/Drew Barrymore romcom that's been mentioned in canon in relation to Buck (the first being 50 First Dates in the season 5 finale) and as a huge fan of those movies, I'm fangirling. Second, it aligns with Tommy's s2 characterization where he loves romcoms (Love, Actually, and now The Wedding Singer). Third, it's an interesting choice from the writers here to pick The Wedding Singer as the movie that springs to Tommy's mind. There are plenty of 80s movies with bright colors that could've been name-dropped. They instead purposely went for a movie about the 80s but made in the late 90s, for the express purpose of having Eddie point out that Tommy's wrong. This is all very subtle, but it definitely does feel like Eddie is trying to lowkey one-up Tommy. But why would he feel the need to do this?

I've seen others point this out as well, but The Wedding Singer is about two people who are engaged to other people who are very obviously not right for them, though they might try to convince themselves differently. I rewatched the movie yesterday morning and I found it very enlightening. Adam Sandler's character is very much in love with Drew Barrymore's character, and almost tells her to leave her fiance for him, but in the end, he assumes incorrectly that she's happy with the other guy, and leaves them be. Drew Barrymore's character was ready to settle with someone she didn't fully love for security, and the only reason she doesn't tell Adam Sandler's character the truth is because she thinks he's still in love with his ex. It's all very miscommunication-y, but at the same time, it's reflective of Buck and Eddie's characters currently too given that neither of them really knows what they're looking for, they're just seeking a feeling, and may or may not be finding it in their current respective partners. But in the end, even after all the miscommunications, there's a HEA in The Wedding Singer.

Something else of mention was how in the movie, Adam Sandler's character was asked how he knew that things weren't working out with his ex and he said something along the lines of "It was the little things. Like, one time we were going to the Grand Canyon, and I had never been there before and she had, and instead of letting me take the window seat in order to see the beauty of it from above, she took the window seat for herself." This reminded me of this scene with Tommy, where it's just the little things that aren't fitting between him and Buck. I will come back to the topic of BuckTommy and misalignment later.

There have been many posts discussing how Crockett and Tubbs are another one of those "manly" buddy-cop pairings who were very queer-coded best friends who obviously never got together. Many people believed Crockett to be bi-coded as well. What's interesting to me is that this marks the second/third time in the last two episodes where they argued about who is the bi-coded character. I just find it interesting meta-textually when you think about the fact that fans used to argue incessantly (still do honestly) about whether Buck or Eddie could be queer and now that Buck is confirmed to be queer, people argue that Eddie can't be queer now. Additionally (I don't watch Miami Vice but I looked at a lot of the pictures) it seems that visually, Eddie should be aware that he is dressed as Tubbs, since most of pictures of them feature Crockett in blue/green semi-casual and Tubbs in pink/elevated suits. Visually, their roles should be obvious to anyone who is familiar with the show. Just like how Buck's queerness is now obvious. But now, the argument is well, there's an argument to be made that Eddie could be Crockett, and subtextually, also queer.

The narrative continues to hint with every single episode that passes that it's very likely Eddie will discover his own queerness at some point in the show. Just like there's no need for Buck and Eddie to argue over who gets to be Crockett, they can both be Crockett for christ's sake, they're both gonna end up queer. Of that I am certain.

So not only was Eddie totally down to clown with Buck at this karaoke bachelor party, but he was the one who suggested the couple's costume. We see more instances of Eddie not trying to tell Buck "hey, Chim said he didn't want a party, so don't do it", instead he goes along with it and finds a way to be even more enthusiastic about it. And I don't think that that was just because Eddie really wanted to party. I think it was because Eddie realizes that Buck must be wanting to do this for a reason. Possibly Buck might be doing this because he wants to show Chimney just how supportive he is of him and Maddie, maybe it's because Buck never got to be too involved with Maddie's last wedding because Doug hated him. Maybe this is his way of trying to make up again for his actions in season 5 when Maddie left and Buck didn't tell Chim. Or hell, maybe it's just now hitting Buck that he's going to have a brother, for real now, after realizing all he lost with Daniel, and wants to make this day special for Chim to showcase his appreciation of their brotherhood.

Buck is obviously overcompensating for something, and Chim and the rest of the gang don't realize why the bachelor party is so important to Buck. Hell, Eddie might not know entirely either, but he does sense that there is something more than just "I want to party" going on with Buck and this bachelor party. And so, as always, he is ride or die for Buck.

Then, when everyone else gets up to leave karaoke, Eddie doesn't even get up. He doesn't make it look like he's also considering leaving either. He doesn't check his watch or phone or make it seem like it's a burden or an inconvenience to be there or like there's somewhere else he'd rather be.

Once again, this scene with Tommy and Buck is framed with Eddie clearly in the picture, to show how he's just chilling, drinking, and ready to stick it out with Buck regardless of what happens. And then Tommy is the last one to finally leave and disappoint Buck that night.

And now I want to bring it back to BuckTommy, misalignment, and the ever-present Screaming Universe. If this was real life, it would just be a coincidence, but it's not. This is scripted fiction and everything is done with a purpose. What purpose did the writers have to get rid of Tommy but keep Eddie around to party with Buck all night long? If the writers wanted, they could've had Tommy stick around, more so to show a juxtaposition between the three of them hanging out. Or the writers could've had Eddie leave, and Tommy stay. It would've served the same purpose. Tommy still could've left the next morning for work and come back sooty for the kiss. Instead, the story/universe wanted Tommy to leave and this undeniably creates a micro-conflict between Buck and Tommy. It's undeniable that Buck is disappointed that Tommy's leaving and that he didn't really seem all that enthused to be there in the first place. Tommy then leaves, he's gone for the majority of the episode and comes back at the end. This is now a pattern for the third time in a row.

In Tommy's introduction episode 7x04, he and Buck have a moment at the beginning of the episode, a conflict between Buck and Tommy is introduced, Tommy is there a couple times throughout but he and Buck do not have any one-on-one scenes again until the end where their "miscommunication" is resolved by their kiss. In 7x05, they have their date at the beginning where weirdness happens and Tommy ends it, is gone the rest of the episode, until he returns at the end for Buck to make up with and rekindle. And now in 7x06, Tommy is there at the beginning, there's a misconnection, Tommy leaves for the rest of the episode, and they reconnect at the very end.

That's three whole instances of conflict with BuckTommy all written in a very similar way back to back to back. All of these conflicts revolve around the theme of misalignment and not knowing what they want personally nor what the other person wants. All of this harkens back to that first little moment with Buck and Tommy in 7x03 where Buck pats Tommy's arm, Tommy reaches to connect their hands and misses. I predicted that this would be a metaphor for the rest of their relationship, and so far I've been right. Because it seems like no matter how hard both of them try, they aren't quite connecting, not to the fullest. There is always a conflict that pops up that pulls them apart every single episode and they have to find ways to resolve this at the end. Again, if this was irl it'd be a different story, but as part of a narrative where they're not only trying to showcase Buck's first-ever queer relationship but also strongly comparing it to his "platonic" relationship with Eddie, it feels pointed and poignant. Buck and Tommy's constant misalignment feels like the "universe" trying to tell them something but they're not yet at the point of understanding what.

I highly doubt Buck would've wanted to party with a bunch of strangers if he wasn't feeling so disappointed by both Tommy and Chim. Eddie too, I'm wondering why he didn't want to go home or go be with Chris and visit his family. Or maybe go and see if maybe Marisol wanted to hang out. In fact, Marisol not being in this episode at all, or even mentioned, after the last episode is telling as well.

Many people have pointed out that the karaoke scene parallels Maddie and Chim, and this is even more pointed when the song that is playing when Maddie and Chim get married is Island in the Stream which is the song they first sang karaoke to. Buck and Eddie we know sing "What I Like About You" by the New Romantics, which Oliver, Ryan, and Tim all described as the best song for them to sing to/with each other at this point in time. I still think of it as canon even though we didn't hear it (I get why, they had little time and also licensing is expensive). This song is a romantic song, that's undeniable, and it also makes me think of Shrek and Fiona so it's double iconic. It's also an interesting choice in the moment where Buck is at a low emotional point, and Eddie chooses to stick around with him, indulge with him, and have fun together. It really is a great moment to show how not only are they there for each other in serious and emotional moments, but they also just enjoy spending time with each other, and would choose to spend time with each other any time they can.

Now I wanna talk about just how close physically Buck and Eddie get in this episode. For a lot of us, it's kind of whiplash because while Buck and Eddie have hugged and touched before, never so much in this way, or this much, or this intimately. Buck has his arm around Eddie's neck, their faces closer than they've probably ever been before? Buck is literally whispering into Eddie's ear ("keep on whispering in my ear, tell me all the things that I wanna hear because it's true, that's what I like about you") pulling Eddie into his chest. Eddie's leaning his entire upper body onto Buck, resting most of his weight on Buck. They're pressed together thigh to thigh, leaning their knees on each other. All of this demonstrates not just an emotional closeness, but a physical closeness (thank you, ABC, fuck u Fox), and not only that but an intimate physical closeness. All of this coming right after an episode where Buck came out. I love this because it shows a lack of Eddie being weirded out by being physically close to a queer man as a (seemingly) straight man. But it's also just so telling because Buck and Eddie have not been this physically close before....like ever...in this show. And now they are at the turning point of Buck's queerness being made textual and Eddie's queerness being STRONG subtext? Oh my goodness it's such strong storytelling.

This might be reading into it, and I acknowledge that, but this dialogue exchange felt to me less like they were talking about all the nameless people who were around them and more so like they were talking about each other. These are strangers, they don't know Chim, let alone love him. Neither do these people know/love Buck or Eddie. Instead, this conversation reads to me more like Buck talking about how Chim should be here because his friends (Buck, Eddie, Hen, etc) love him, and Eddie agrees. Looking even deeper, given that Chim didn't show up and the rest of their friends left them for the night, this feels more like Buck and Eddie talking about themselves. Because why is Eddie here? There's no reason for Eddie to be here partying it up except for the fact that he loves Buck and he wants to make him happy and enjoys spending time with him. This exchange is Buck recognizing that, and Eddie agreeing that he really, really does love Buck. And that's why their shenanigans continue as they all move on to Chim's hotel room.

They could've given up/left once Chim's door was locked, but Eddie encourages Buck to keep on going. Touching Buck like how Eddie loves to touch Buck, in the way that's most appropriate for them, on the shoulder like this. Then he kicks the door in and when Buck is ready to go wake Chim up to party, Eddie's like "Eh let him sleep", because, for Eddie, he doesn't really need Chimney around to have fun. Despite what they were just saying about bringing the party to Chimney so that Chimeny could feel the love too, Eddie's perfectly content just partying it up with Buck and only Buck.

These three clips in the bachelor party montage....I'm just gonna be frank with you, they're so obviously meant to look sexual. So CONTENT WARNING**** for me about to talk about sexual positions and such.

I don't have to tell you that although Buck and Eddie are technically partying with a bunch of other people, none of them are actually important. They're NPCs there to give Buck and Eddie an excuse to do all of this stuff with each other. So everything they do in this scene is more so a reflection of their relationship with each other, as well as their metaphorical queerness than it is about just general partying.

We know (due to bts) that at some point Eddie was leaning over to pour alcohol into Buck's mouth. It looks like Buck is leaning back on the couch in his most favorite/frequent canonical sex position (girl on top/riding) that we've seen in the past. This time with his mouth wide open with a phallic symbol pouring a liquid directly into his mouth. It looks like a blowjob/cum shot. Then we have Eddie with his clothes being pulled off and torn away. From the bts, we know that Buck is behind him and helps the girls pull off his sleeves. Other than the obvious "ripping each other's clothes off" metaphor, there's also the "orgasmic" look on Eddie's face as well. Others have also discussed how Eddie appears to be recreating the "crucifixion pose" /Jesus on the cross with his arms out like that in a reference to his catholic guilt arc and how before he's very much let that guilt control him and now in this scene with his close being ripped off, it can also be a metaphor for Eddie's eventually freedom from compulsory heterosexuality and guilt.

The last still with both Buck and Eddie vigorously shaking champagne bottles near the crotches (mimicking mutual masturbation) and then both of the champagne bottles "explode" mimicking both of them reaching a mutual climax, which then cuts immediately to both of them waking up the next morning. It's very very obviously a metaphorical gay sex scene.

Separately from that, I want to discuss this specific still, with both Buck and Eddie in between 2 very clear-as-day drag queens. This inclusion elevates the scene subtly yet very clearly to represent both Buck AND Eddie in proximity to queerness/the queer community. It further cements the queerness of this entire montage scene.

Finally, to conclude the bachelor party scenes, I just want to reiterate, that Buck and Eddie could've figured out Chim was missing any which way. They could've gone over the next morning w/o partying there. Buck could've gone by himself, etc. There were many ways the "Chim is missing" plot could've been done without needing to go this route for Buck/Eddie. Which means that this plot was not for any necessary reason other than to bring Buck and Eddie together.

Then while they're going on their chase to find Chimney, Buck and Eddie are paired up together the entire time, working together as a team, once again looking more like an established couple than anything else.

Then, as if fitting with the BuckTommy "beginning and ending only" episode pattern, Tommy comes back only at the very end of the episode, and he and Buck kiss, transferring soot onto Buck's face and providing a very quick and easy way to come out to all the rest of the people who haven't yet known about Buck. Most people look surprised, others smug (Henren, we'll get to them) and Eddie gives an interesting close-lipped smile. This moment in and of itself isn't very loud. His face is purposely vague here (hats off to Ryan, king of microexpressions). Of course, Eddie's going to look happy for them, he's not going to look jealous. But his smile could be brighter, his eyes could be warmer. There's again just something off about his expression there. I think it's confusing for a reason, because Eddie too is confused about everything he's feeling.

Hen is incredibly smart, so I'm not surprised that she clocked Buck's queerness a while ago. Her telling Karen this, and Karen's agreement means that this is something they likely discussed in private as well. In my opinion, if she was able to clock Buck, there's no way she hasn't also clocked Eddie. She just isn't saying anything because she's a respectful and empathetic person.

Hen wasn't really there for most of Buck's Tommy-arc, but she WAS front and center for all of Eddie's "performance anxiety" around dating women. Trust me, when Eddie figures it out and he and Buck finally get together, Henren will say something along these lines again, I'm certain of it.

And that's the end of this episode! It was such an emotional ride! I loved everything they did with Maddie and Chimney, and the Buddie plot was so fun! I had a blast, and I'm so excited for next week! I get the feeling the latter half of the season is gonna dive deeper into Eddie's storylines. Yay!

[caorann8]

Grief in Dawntrail

Alrighty, here are my thoughts as a funeral director having finished Dawntrail. Obviously spoilers under the cut.

When someone says a game feels like work, that’s normally a bad thing. In this case it’s not. Two of Dawntrail’s themes are community/their different cultures and grief and while they’re explored more separately in the two halves of the story they are intrinsically linked. Funerals at their core are about remembering the person who’s died and coming together to support each other and remember the person. Even with the decline of “traditional” funerals, people who are just having a cremation and nothing else from the funeral home often say they’ll have something at home with their friends and family.

This is why Sphene pissed me off from the start. With the Yok Huy we see a beautiful funeral tradition. The body may return to the mountains but their legacy will always remain for their community to read and remember over and over again, even for future generations. Meanwhile Sphene echo’s the same message, “You will never die so long as you’re remembered” but then removes the memories as a misguided attempt to protect her people. They aren’t remembered, they’re actively forgotten by their entire community until those people die too.

Death and grief are complicated things. Something we learn in school is there are no stages as most people think. It’s a roller coaster that goes forward and back, has good days and bad days, and will sometimes crop up years later. What lessens it is allowing yourself to process it, and support from friends/family/community helps immensely. By denying them these memories, Sphene denies them growth and stronger bonds. A friend of mine said the people of Alexandria wouldn’t survive the Final Days and I agree. We even see this in the WoL! How many times are we able to quote Haurchefant or other characters who have died but made an impact on our journey? Even Emet-Selch asks us to remember them. The ancient’s love, their follies, the good and bad. While grief hurts in so many different ways, we often come out on the other side better, whether that be with new tools, new outlooks, or even just relief that the person isn’t suffering.

And this doesn’t just apply to people we care for. Look at the death of Zoraal Ja. Wuk Lamat hated him and he’d abandoned Gulool Ja. Regret or joy that it’s over are valid feelings . Both grieved in their own ways and had support to work through it. The fact that they were actively told to take a break to process everything, both after his death and after the attack on Tullioyal, was a beautiful touch. Grief is exhausting after all.

Finally, I want to talk about my experience going through Living Memory. That’s the part that truly felt like my work. Just sitting and listening to people say their final goodbyes to their loved ones. Some crying, some laughing at good memories, some angry, but all taking that moment. I didn’t cry really (except Cahcuia, that one got me), I got choked up and there was a heaviness for a lot of it, but there’s a joy in knowing nothing’s left unsaid. Even deleting the areas didn’t affect me much. They each got their last hurrah, like a eulogy at a service or stories shared over a meal. Plus the knowledge that reincarnation exists in FFXIV means they’ll be able to enjoy life again.

At the end of the day grief, in all its forms from the end of relationships, to what could’ve been, to death of a loved one, shouldn’t be swept under a rug. When people find out I’m a funeral director I often get asked if it’s “depressing with all the crying” and I always reply that I hear laughter coming from visitation rooms more often than tears.