#i will never be normal about this i swear

[imaginespazzi]

Part 14: The End And The Beginning

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)

(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort

Words: 9.2K

TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3

June 2033 

Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now-  instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it. 

But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt. 

Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach. 

Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it. 

Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed. 

Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night. 

“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”

Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms. 

She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby. 

“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while. 

“Yeah Stephie-bean?”

“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”

“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”

“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress. 

“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had. 

“Oh sweetheart-”

“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”

“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”

Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”

“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her. 

“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers. 

There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”

Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”

“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?’”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh. 

“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.” 

“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together. 

Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”

But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest. 

“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”

Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”

*** 

April 2025

“What are you doing?” panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights. 

Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.  

“Paige,” she whispers helplessly. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves. 

But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat. 

She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.

But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft. 

And then it happened again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance. 

That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was. 

It was fear. 

The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend. 

“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water. 

Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes. 

But not like this. 

Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart. 

Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”

Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper. 

“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body. 

“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds. 

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”

“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it. 

“”What?”

Azzi clears her throat, “no.”

“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread. 

“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”

I do, Azzi wants to scream. 

“I can’t,” she says. 

Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”

“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” Paige snarls. 

“Paige-”

“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”

“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”

Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean. 

“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.

“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”

Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”

“Azzi-”

The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”

“I’m sor-”

“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air. 

If I become your fiancé. 

 “I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”

“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears. 

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”

“You don’t know that-”

The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement. 

A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life. 

“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”

“Paige-”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”

“I see,” Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”

“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”

“That’s not-”

“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”

Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”

Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”

“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”

“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop. 

“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”

Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”

“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”

“That won’t happen-”

“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue. 

“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows. 

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal. 

“Say it Azzi-”

“No-”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved. 

“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence. 

Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”

“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”

The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”

Another beat of silence. 

“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”

And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night. 

But Paige walks away. 

And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her. 

It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late. 

*** 

June 2033 

There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama. 

They’re sickeningly cute.

And Azzi fucking hates them.  

It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life. 

A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces. 

“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family. 

“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”

“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be. 

“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter. 

“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”

Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement. 

“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues. 

“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”

“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”

Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby. 

“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken. 

“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully. 

“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”

“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”

“Steph-”

“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”

“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York. 

“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”

“Stephie stop-”

“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”

“Sweetheart-”

“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”

“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”

“But Mama-” the little girl whines. 

“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”

“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it. 

“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time. 

It’s Paige. 

Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Paige, who’s here. 

It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards. 

It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare. 

Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently. 

“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her. 

Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile. 

She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long. 

The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart. 

“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes. 

“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout. 

There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto. 

For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives. 

She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces. 

“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”

“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”

“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen. 

“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”

“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her. 

“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”

“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle. 

“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”

Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”

“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”

“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. 

“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope. 

Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink. 

“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”

Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”

Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”

“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something. 

“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”

“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.

Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs. 

A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grapes, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her. 

“Mama?” Stephie presses. 

“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple. 

From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman. 

“Az-”

“It’s been almost three weeks-”

“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.

Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”

“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”

“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly. 

“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches. 

“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”

Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”

“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”

“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”

Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”

Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her. 

“What about New York?” she asks finally. 

“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly,“I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”

“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”

“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”

“You called it off before even talking to me?” Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”

“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”

“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks. 

  “You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter. 

Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”

“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it. 

“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her. 

“What?”

“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”

A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”

Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart. 

“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips. 

  “So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot. 

Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks. 

“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms. 

Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything. 

Because now she finally has everything. 

Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything. 

[universalincubal]

Yeah we just need to learn to be accepting of things we don't initially know about and understand. It encourages growth.

Wasting so much communal time and energy on trying to "normalize" and "integrate" something into society in an "acceptable" viewpoint would be very reductive and an insult to our resourcefulness and plasticity as humans.

Being mature is very scary and learning new things is uncomfortable. But this doesn't kill us, and you become better and healthier for it. It is something that is good for us as people.

I swear we can do better. Even if it's just individually. We need community and ostracizing each other will never be productive.

"can we normalize-" NO!!!!!! we do not need to expand whats considered normal!!! we need to teach people to stop reacting judgmentally when encountering something new and weird!!!! things dont need to be normal to be respected!!!!!!!!!!

[icyblueroses]

IF BBNO$ ACTUALLY GOT HIT WITH A YAOI NDA IM GONNA EXPLODE

[notanactressyayy]

·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

[midnite-c6]

Can you write Namgyu with a kink for humiliating you? I just know this man is a sadist with the way he’s so mean.

It can be making you cry, making you lick his shoes clean, suck his fingers, spitting in your mouth & making you swallow! All while cruelly insulting you calling you a cunt and a bitch.

He loves to embarrass you! You’re just his personal stress-toy in these stressful games <3

(Love your work btw!!!)🎀

holy fuckfbk nam-gyu will always be my fav , hes such a sadist HES SUCH A SADIST you'll be crying and everything literally making such a mess and he'd be staring at you like this: 🫤 guys i got a good twitter vid for this one (i made reader a bit a bimbo im sry💔)

sadist!nam-gyu x reader <3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, SMUT!!, humiliation kink, knifeplay, humping shoes ❤️‍🩹, twitter link, dubcon, orgasm denial, death threats (1), degradation, voyeurism, pwp

つ⁠｡⁠☆ when you'd meet at the games, he just immediately sees how fuckable you are. you were bickering him about the stupidest things, he was angry, how you almost lost them the six-legged race, of course you'd defend yourself. without any class, he'd spit on you, out of 'anger'. obviously he only wants to test how you'd respond, the games were getting boring, he needs to release some tension. "fucking swallow, bitch. you'll do that, right?" he says, like it's second nature, it was your first time literally getting spat on! it felt so weird! you'd swallow full of shame, looking him in the eye. "fucking-" his dick would twitch from the sight, like he was taking your virginity. "bitch, you tryna' tease me?" it's like he didn't expect you to do as he says. you were actually so submissive it makes him cry. it makes his dick cry, definitely.

he's probably the type of guy to jerk off right in front of you. he invited you to come and eat with him and his other allies, saying how it's much more safer with a team rather than being alone, but once you finished your lunch and everyone's going somewhere else, nam-gyu shamelessly moves his hands past the waistband of his pants, it makes you panic, scared, and clueless, -- you don't know what to do, the good person in you says to help him :( and you do, offering your hand, tilting your head and asking "do .. do you need me?" nam-gyu knew he is never gonna get enough of you. ever. he scoffs, he was about to bust a nut right there, "don't fucking assume, cunt." but you just wanted to help him :( he swears you knew what you were doing. "do you even have a brain?" you'd freeze, and he removes his hand under his pants to pull your hair to face his groin. "i'm sure you know how to suck. so suck." he doesn't give you any time to think before pushing your head to his clothed dick, making your squirms muffled against his hard-on. "mmph- m-mister-" your drool staining his pants, "take my pants off, duh. are you genuinely stupid?"

now you were forced to take on his dick, because of your 'volunteer' spirit. atleast he was a bit nice about it though.. i mean he did take it slow until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat, after that, it's a different story. "you sick little freak. you offer your services to any person with a cock?" is what you'd hear, and the 'glug glug glug' sound of your throat. "no decent woman would offer herself when she sees a man jerking it." you were taking him in so well, and he was conversing like it was a normal day. "you. are. a. fucking. freak." he'd pull you away from his dick, "answer me, you're a whore aren't you?" he tugs, "what are you?" "a whore..." you whimper. he just laughs, shoving right back into your mouth.

everything was too fast D: you'd swear other men were looking. no they definitely were. probably even stroking their own dicks while watching. player 124 was so lucky.

even after that, your throat was sore, making you unable to speak, it wasn't like you were much of a talker in the first place. you'd stay by him though, even if you could hear nam-gyu tell his experience about you to thanos, saying how 'mediocre' you were. that hurts.. :(

つ⁠｡⁠☆ outside of the games ->

you were probably someone who absolutely loves the idea of 'making love', he'd just absolutely break that ideology in half. :/ you guys wouldn't have met in the club, he probably met you in a dating app. he made himself such a presentable person, deeming himself as a family man raised by his grandmother who loves owning pets, long walks on the beach, cooking for his girl, all that stuff. of course you'd fall in love. your second date was cooking with him, he finds it cute how clumsy you are with the knife, he chuckles, playfully teasing: "you're such a cute dummy." getting behind you, putting his arms on top of yours as he guides you on how to safely cut vegetables. he's such a sweetie.

but.. when he has that knife pressed right to your throat, thankfully not cutting you, his body caging yours on the counter, your back pressed against his chest. whispering, "you're such a dumb bitch, who the fuck believes shit from people who work at the club?" he did have a point, he said he was a club promoter right off the bat, but your view of him did a full 180⁰ real quick.

pushing your pants down, he presses the handle of the knife right in between your legs, making a soft moan escape your lips, how could he think you don't like this?

the knife goes back to your neck, as his other hand was deeply shoving his fingers against your leaking pussy, "you can't cum, alright? m'not afraid to slash your neck." he threatens, he curls his fingers at the same time, how were you gonna survive.??

now when you're trembling right infront of him, he'd stop all forms of physical touch, getting away from you, you'd fall to the ground, mostly because of your legs shaking, and how the knife infront of your throat blocked you from doing any movements. "please, let me cum, please, i've been good..!" you begged, looking up at him. his eyes darkened even more at the sight, you were so desperate, it was hot. "fine. spread your legs."

(this video) <- twt link ^o^

he presses the insides of your thighs to fully spread them wide open. nudging the tip of his shoes on your clit, the friction was good enough </3.

"you're an embarrassment to women, jeez, you're fucking gonna cum from this." he always seems so mad. you shake your head, you're better than this, you swear. he only chuckles from how you're trying to defend yourself, pressing your thighs together as if to close them, you still wanted that sweet release :( " pfft. stop trying to deny it, i'm not gonna let you cum unless you become a worthless whore for me," fuck it, you were desperate, you'd cum from anything at this point. erasing any self dignity, you spread your legs again. props to you, despite his mean nature, he was gonna cum from the sight.

-

lastly, in a group setting, you know he is the biggest boot-licker when it's with his friends at the club, always wanting to impress them and shit, showing how you're his prized possession! he'll make you hang out with his friends, the purple-haired one included, all doing lines and taking puffs of weed, as he "sweetly" guides you to grind on his thigh. saying how: "nobody's gonna notice, they're too high to notice you being so pathetic." and you whine, tears in your eyes because you feel so embarrassed and vulnerable :<, hearing his other friends laugh, you could only hide your face in the crook of nam-gyu's neck. he'd pull on your hair to get you to look at him eye to eye, "you wanted this didn't you? you're asking for it all the time, why not now?" his words are so condescending, it didn't help how your clit is sweetly nudging against the wrinkles of his pants, sometimes you'd even move a bit higher to feel the bulkiness of his belt. or even the tent in his pants in general, but he'll immediately lift you up, because he doesn't wanna give you the satisfaction that he's aroused too!

he's such a perfect guy, you love him. you do. if you actually do, sucks to suck, he thinks you're fucking pathetic.

subby nam-gyu soon? (and kim seowan) prolly will do a few asks, too busy for all this stuff i need sleep! also, guys i love the dark asks, keep them goinnnnnnnnn🥲

[seitmai]

As always, many many thoughts

She studied his face with a knowing look for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile of her own. "Sir, I can think of so many ways you could help me. It's not even funny."

Oh God this is obnoxious

Her gaze dipped down to your belly as you stood before her in the lab. You knew you were showing. There was no denying it now. You had a bunch of appointments coming up with Dr. Morris, and you were just going to keep getting bigger until you had to wear the maternity tent again. You knew you were already huge and that you'd probably never be your normal size ever again. And the last thing you wanted was Cat Coleman of all people scrutinizing your appearance when she always looked pristine.

I just want to give her a hug! Also Cat would never!

Everything was made worse by Bradley's interactions with Indigo. She was everywhere on base, but now she had taken over your bar, too. You saw her this morning but managed to duck out of the way before those piercing eyes landed on you. She knew what you looked like now, and Cat's gaze lingering on your belly was doing nothing to give you a boost of confidence.

Urgh I just hate Indigo

You turned on your heel, boot squeaking on the floor and headed out to collect Rose from daycare. Everything was just a reminder of your size right now. Visions of candy bars danced in your head as you told yourself you'd go home and eat a sensible dinner while Bradley held his office hours. But you already knew... you just knew Indigo would squeeze her way in there with her pretty eyes and her perky tits. And your husband seemed to be oblivious to her. At least you'd tried to convince yourself he wasn't actively looking. But you knew she found him attractive. You could smell it on her a mile away.

🥺🥺🥺

"Yeah, Indigo hung out," he replied easily, brushing his fingers along Rose's hair with a smile. You swallowed hard, watching him on his hands and knees in his khaki uniform. He looked so good. Like ridiculously good. Broad shoulders and big biceps and a handsome smile. "Why am I not surprised?" you muttered, turning away from him. "I think they're friends," he said. "It's kind of amusing getting to experience the love and hate dynamics amongst the group. The women tend to stick together on the ground, but anything goes in the air."

Omg Bradley is oblivious it hurts

"Did you hear that, Nugget?" Bradley scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen where you were plating two meals. "Your grandparents are moving here to spend more time with you. And next summer, we'll take you and your little brother or sister back to Virginia to see where ol' Goose and Carole used to live, okay?" He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling wildly, and every negative thought started to get fuzzy around the edges. When his brown eyes met yours, you nodded toward the table, and his arm slipped around your waist.

🥰🥰🥰

Bradley came home from his office hours on Monday to find you wearing only his old UVA shirt. The soft cotton was hugging your bump and showing off your legs, and he was ready to get on his knees and beg for you.

Well, let's get to it 🤭

"I hope you know how good you have it, Roo," you whispered against his lips. He knew. He knew all about it.

😌😌😌

"Shit. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, waiting until you nodded against his palm to lose himself. Hips thrusting, filling you with shallow strokes, he fucked you until your pussy was dripping. He watched the mess he made dribble down your ass before catching it with his fingertips. "I swear I don't think I can keep my cock out of you long enough for you to not be pregnant ever again." "No more slip ups," he echoed, smiling at your belly. He'd never consider this a mistake. Not in a million years. A surprise? Absolutely. But not a mistake.

Oh he definitely has a breeding kink 🤭

But every time you let your heart fill with happiness over your parents or the baby, you remembered that Indigo was texting your husband. You saw it for yourself. Right after he fucked you so good, you could barely walk, you glanced down at his phone on your bed. He had her number saved in his phone, and you wanted to cry.

Understandably

Unsure what else to do, you sat in your office during your lunch break and cried. The tears were hot and miserable on your cheeks, and a headache instantly started brewing behind your eyes. It took you almost ten minutes to get yourself under control, and by then you didn't even feel like going to the cafeteria for food.

The worst feeling

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked, already leaning forward to stand again. "Want me to grab you and the baby something to eat and bring it up here?"

He's so sweet and thoughtful (if he wants to be)

"Bunch of children," he replied with an eye roll. "Look like they just graduated from high school." His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, that probably means I look old now."

Ahahahah

"I know they like to hog the line in the cafeteria. One of them took the last slice of pizza yesterday, and I had to wait for a new pie to finish baking. Food should be based on seniority. I outrank all of them."

Valid haha

You headed to the cafeteria with Jake, getting a chance to hear his side of the wedding plans after listening to Cat for weeks. They wanted something small and simple, but he assured you there would be room for the Bradshaws on the guest list.

I bet he is more excited about this than he lets on 🤭

"It was hard to tell in the dark, but her face seemed okay. Nice-ish body, but come on..." Indigo gestured to herself. "The man's only human, and his wife is definitely older than me. That much is easy to tell. And she'll be huge again soon." You tried to get up from your seat quickly, fighting with yourself to get out of the room, but it was too late. Both of them were standing now, still chatting as Indigo turned your way. As soon as her eyes landed on your face, you saw them widen. That pretty blue color looked terrifying as a smile of recognition spread across her lips. Indigo absolutely knew who you were now. Her eyes dipped down to the hyphenated name pinned against your chest, and now she knew you weren't a random civilian. She knew you were an officer who worked on North Island. She knew way too much as she took in every inch of your body. And she looked really pleased by what she saw.

I am all against violence, but I really want to punch Indigo in the face

Aim for the Sky Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're struggling through your pregnancy, trying to stay calm as your worries about Bradley grow as quickly as the baby. Bradley wants to put his best foot forward at work, making himself available for office hours, but maybe he's made himself too accessible.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, smut, pregnancy topics, lactation kink, jealous

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley's new office was coming along nicely. Everything was standard issue Navy grade, but he started adding some touches here and there to make it look more personal. The file cabinet was covered in ultrasound photos, one column of Rosie and one of her younger sibling. 

He glanced at the wedding photo on his desk before adjusting it and wincing. You were still mad this morning that he overdid it at the Hard Deck last night, but he wished you would just let it go. It's not like he drove home drunk or anything. Nat and the guys were just excited to learn he was going to have another kid. The drinks just kept coming.

There was a knock on the door, and then Maverick poked his head inside. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, waving him inside. "It's not like I can tell you no. You're my commanding officer, Mav."

The older man chuckled, setting some folders on the desk. "I need you to keep all of the forms updated for each of the pilots. It's best if you work on it every day and then update the hard copies. You should have time to do this between visits during your office hours."

Today was the first time Bradley was holding office hours, and honestly he felt a bit like a college professor: the aviators were kind of his students, and he was responsible for making sure they were prepared to fly.

"Not sure how busy my office hours will be," Bradley muttered. He should probably send a text to remind you he'd be home a little later than usual tonight. While he didn't want to make a habit of missing dinner with his girls, this was a far cry better than being deployed. 

"You might be surprised," Maverick replied with a smile as he backed toward the door. "You've got a lot to show the others, Lieutenant Commander."

Then he was gone, and Bradley could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks. He just wanted to prove himself, but the first time someone had him up against the wall, scrambling for an answer, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He'd only started to advertise his extra hours during today's lecture, so it would probably be another week or so until someone came to him for any sort of guidance on a Monday evening. But he would try to be ready.

He was just opening one of the folders from Maverick when there was another knock on his door. This time when he looked up, he was met with a flight suit complete with a Golden Warriors patch identical to the one he wore. That would have been enough to let him know it was Indigo, but then he met her eyes as he stood up behind his desk.

"Lieutenant Jeffries," he greeted with a smile as she strode inside. "How can I help you?"

She studied his face with a knowing look for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile of her own. "Sir, I can think of so many ways you could help me. It's not even funny."

Bradley blinked, brow furrowed as he examined her. "Well, why don't you start with an easy one? It's been a long day. And something tells me you might be regretting the late start you got at the Hard Deck last night."

Her laughter filled the room. "I could never regret finding the officer hangout before the rest of my peers from Texas. I need to keep the edge I have over Rex and Spice." When she started to close the door, Bradley frowned.

"Keep it open," he said casually, reaching out to catch it before it shut. He didn't want anyone thinking he was playing favorites, and the little pout on Indigo's lips convinced him she wanted to be his favorite aviator. But she didn't argue. She simply sat down on the edge of the couch and looked up at him.

"The easiest way you can help me is by telling me where I can improve," she said, fingers toying with the zipper at her neck. "I want to be the best you've ever seen."

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

You couldn't tell if Cat was actually annoyed with you or if she was just teasing, but you were too exhausted from a restless night to care.

"I can't believe Bradley told Jake you're pregnant before you told me yourself! I just saw you last night!"

Her gaze dipped down to your belly as you stood before her in the lab. You knew you were showing. There was no denying it now. You had a bunch of appointments coming up with Dr. Morris, and you were just going to keep getting bigger until you had to wear the maternity tent again. You knew you were already huge and that you'd probably never be your normal size ever again. And the last thing you wanted was Cat Coleman of all people scrutinizing your appearance when she always looked pristine.

Everything was made worse by Bradley's interactions with Indigo. She was everywhere on base, but now she had taken over your bar, too. You saw her this morning but managed to duck out of the way before those piercing eyes landed on you. She knew what you looked like now, and Cat's gaze lingering on your belly was doing nothing to give you a boost of confidence.

"Please make sure you're eating and drinking enough," she told you. "We don't want another repeat of Annapolis where you could barely give a presentation. Or a repeat of the day you fell at work."

You gritted your teeth. "This pregnancy doesn't even feel like my last one. Okay? I'm eating just fine. Too well, actually."

You turned on your heel, boot squeaking on the floor and headed out to collect Rose from daycare. Everything was just a reminder of your size right now. Visions of candy bars danced in your head as you told yourself you'd go home and eat a sensible dinner while Bradley held his office hours. But you already knew... you just knew Indigo would squeeze her way in there with her pretty eyes and her perky tits. And your husband seemed to be oblivious to her. At least you'd tried to convince yourself he wasn't actively looking. But you knew she found him attractive. You could smell it on her a mile away.

Tears filled your eyes as you approached the daycare facility. If he was looking at her, you couldn't blame him. Indigo was beautiful, her body stunning even in her flight suit. Meanwhile you looked like an exhausted, lumpy, khaki-covered potato with acne and zero energy.

"Let's go home," you whispered to Rose, trying to smile at the daycare staff as you pushed her out in her stroller.

You were absolutely fine. You were totally fine. Or at least you would be. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

But all week long, you heard the same collection of call signs spilling from Bradley's lips, and Indigo's was always the first one. She was the fastest, most cunning, smartest, most decisive pilot he'd ever flown with. Any time you asked him a question about work, she was the answer. And he was late coming home almost every day.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Sorry, I had to stay in the infirmary with Spice after she strained her shoulder," he said, rushing inside on Friday night as you made dinner. "She couldn't even raise her arm to get her helmet off."

He kissed your cheek, letting his hand rest on your belly for a beat before he ended up on the floor next to Rose's play mat where she was trying her hardest to crawl to Tramp. As soon as Bradley showed up, she changed her mind and tried to get to him instead.

You pressed your lips together as you turned off the stove burner. "Did anyone else stay with you and Spice?"

"Yeah, Indigo hung out," he replied easily, brushing his fingers along Rose's hair with a smile. You swallowed hard, watching him on his hands and knees in his khaki uniform. He looked so good. Like ridiculously good. Broad shoulders and big biceps and a handsome smile.

"Why am I not surprised?" you muttered, turning away from him.

"I think they're friends," he said. "It's kind of amusing getting to experience the love and hate dynamics amongst the group. The women tend to stick together on the ground, but anything goes in the air."

Your stomach ached with hunger pangs, and the only thing you wanted to eat was ice cream. When you realized you'd eaten a frozen burrito barely an hour ago, you desperately wanted to go to bed hungry, but you started to feel guilty about the baby.

"My parents listed their house today," you announced, trying to change the subject before you started to cry.

"Did you hear that, Nugget?" Bradley scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen where you were plating two meals. "Your grandparents are moving here to spend more time with you. And next summer, we'll take you and your little brother or sister back to Virginia to see where ol' Goose and Carole used to live, okay?"

He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling wildly, and every negative thought started to get fuzzy around the edges. When his brown eyes met yours, you nodded toward the table, and his arm slipped around your waist.

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

Bradley came home from his office hours on Monday to find you wearing only his old UVA shirt. The soft cotton was hugging your bump and showing off your legs, and he was ready to get on his knees and beg for you.

After he put Rose in her crib for the night, he met you in bed where you were wearing your glasses, your face freshly scrubbed. He was plainly getting hard in his gym shorts the more he looked at you. It was so obvious. When you stood on your knees and coaxed him closer with your finger, he met you there.

"I hope you know how good you have it, Roo," you whispered against his lips.

He knew. He knew all about it. He let his hand slide down over your belly, keeping you in place when you tried to scoot away. Then his fingers slowly yanked up the hem of his shirt until he was touching your pussy. 

"Of course I know it, Baby Girl." He circled your clit with his middle finger before slipping it inside you. "I've got my Rosie. And my hot, pregnant wife with her perfect pussy." When you whimpered, he kissed your nose. "I've got it all."

You dragged the shirt up over your belly and chest, tossing it aside. For a beat, Bradley went completely dizzy at the sight of your tits. Then you made everything better by placing your hands on your breasts, working them until beads of milk appeared. Your head was tipped back, pussy squeezing his middle finger, and Bradley almost lost his mind.

His kisses were rough. He knew it. But you were whining Roo as he got undressed, and then you were guiding his lips to your tits. He had to have it dirty. His cock was so fucking hard, he needed to make you scream.

"Oh, fuck," he growled as his lips grazed your nipple, lapping up your milk until he thought he was going to pass out. Every inch of your body was so sweet and supple, but he wanted you babbling and begging.

Bradley meticulously cleaned you up until you were clinging onto him, then he pushed you onto your back. Without hesitation, he started fucking you. When you needed a hand over your mouth to keep from waking Rose, he was all too happy to help. When you spread your legs wider, he watched his cock glide inside your welcoming body over and over again until he felt his orgasm in his balls.

"Shit. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, waiting until you nodded against his palm to lose himself. Hips thrusting, filling you with shallow strokes, he fucked you until your pussy was dripping. He watched the mess he made dribble down your ass before catching it with his fingertips. "I swear I don't think I can keep my cock out of you long enough for you to not be pregnant ever again."

You snorted before reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips. "After this one, I'm going right back on the pill. No more slip ups," you whispered. Bradley watched as your tongue darted out, licking his sticky cum and swallowing every drop.

"No more slip ups," he echoed, smiling at your belly. He'd never consider this a mistake. Not in a million years. A surprise? Absolutely. But not a mistake.

Bradley's phone lit up where it had been discarded on the floor when you slipped into the bathroom. He had a text from an unknown number with a Virginia area code. At first, he thought it might be his cousin Brenda letting him know she had a new phone number, but when he opened the message, his brow creased in confusion at first.

Lieutenant Commander, thanks for spending so much time with me today in your office today.

Only three people had been in his office with him earlier. One was Maverick. One was Forrest who he had to reprimand. The third was Indigo. Bradley hadn't been giving out this number, but it was readily available if anyone wanted to look through the registry in the lobby of the building where his small office was housed.

He scratched the rough stubble along his jaw, contemplating if he should respond after nine in the evening. He saved her number under her call sign and tossed his phone on the bed when you walked back in with a smile on your face. He should wait until the morning to respond if at all.

You yawned when he passed you. "I'm ready for bed, Roo."

"Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and I'm right behind you."

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

By the end of the week, your parents had two offers on the house where you were raised. They were officially downsizing to a cute bungalow a few streets over in Coronado, and you were excited. Or you wanted to be.

But every time you let your heart fill with happiness over your parents or the baby, you remembered that Indigo was texting your husband. You saw it for yourself. Right after he fucked you so good, you could barely walk, you glanced down at his phone on your bed. He had her number saved in his phone, and you wanted to cry.

You could ask him for permission to look at his phone. You could see what his reaction was. That would give you a good gauge of what exactly was going on between them. But Bradley had never once asked you to hand your phone over to him. He'd ever insinuated that there would be a reason he didn't trust you. 

Unsure what else to do, you sat in your office during your lunch break and cried. The tears were hot and miserable on your cheeks, and a headache instantly started brewing behind your eyes. It took you almost ten minutes to get yourself under control, and by then you didn't even feel like going to the cafeteria for food.

When someone knocked, you looked up at your door. Maybe it was Bradley. Maybe you could get his phone from him somehow and check it yourself. "Come in," you called, voice soft from all the tears you'd shed. Instead of your husband, Jake strolled inside. "Did you get lost? Cat's probably in the lab."

"Aww, come on, Angel," he drawled, dropping down into your extra chair. "I came all the way up here to see you."

"Oh." You were a little surprised. Everyone was so busy as the last quarter of the year was beginning, you felt like you hadn't seen much of him.

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked, already leaning forward to stand again. "Want me to grab you and the baby something to eat and bring it up here?"

"No," you told him quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little stressed." You tried to smile, but you felt like you could cry again. "Are you having a slow day?"

"Nah." He leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just had to get away from your annoying husband and his band of misfits clogging up the comms with their exercises."

"Band of misfits?" you asked with a soft laugh.

"Bunch of children," he replied with an eye roll. "Look like they just graduated from high school." His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, that probably means I look old now."

"You don't look too bad for someone older than me," you promised with a smirk. "Hey, do you know anything about any of those new pilots?"

"I know they like to hog the line in the cafeteria. One of them took the last slice of pizza yesterday, and I had to wait for a new pie to finish baking. Food should be based on seniority. I outrank all of them."

You were laughing at his smile now. "Hey, maybe I should get something to eat. And it might be nice to get out of my office for a few minutes."

"I'll walk you down." Jake stood and helped you to your feet. "Can't hang out too long though. Mav has a fire under his ass about getting Phoenix, Bob and I in the air this afternoon."

You headed to the cafeteria with Jake, getting a chance to hear his side of the wedding plans after listening to Cat for weeks. They wanted something small and simple, but he assured you there would be room for the Bradshaws on the guest list. Once you had a tray piled high with a salad, breadsticks and once slice of pizza, you took a seat while Jake headed back out to the tarmac to get back to work.

Your lunch tasted incredible. The cheese from the pizza was practically melting in your mouth. When the cafeteria started clearing out, there were only a few tables occupied, and you started stacking the plates on your tray. You could have a calm, reasonable conversation with your husband. He'd let you look at his phone, and everything would be fine.

"Okay, but what's up with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"

Your eyes darted up from your tray to find two officers sitting a short distance away. The one facing you had a patch on her flight suit that said SPICE, and you recognized her call sign from conversations with Bradley.

"He's hot, but he's wearing a wedding band," she added.

You swore your heart stopped at her words. Then you realized that the woman with her back to you was Indigo. Her jet black hair was wound up in a tight bun that accentuated her long neck even from behind, and her laughter set your teeth on edge.

"I already told you," she said, and you had to stop breathing to make sure you heard every word. "His wife is a civvy. I saw her at the bar the only night he showed up. They have one kid, and apparently she's pregnant again. At least that's what I heard Lieutenant Trace saying."

"What does his wife look like?" Spice asked, casually taking a sip of her drink as if your world wasn't crumbling to pieces.

"It was hard to tell in the dark, but her face seemed okay. Nice-ish body, but come on..." Indigo gestured to herself. "The man's only human, and his wife is definitely older than me. That much is easy to tell. And she'll be huge again soon."

You tried to get up from your seat quickly, fighting with yourself to get out of the room, but it was too late. Both of them were standing now, still chatting as Indigo turned your way. As soon as her eyes landed on your face, you saw them widen. That pretty blue color looked terrifying as a smile of recognition spread across her lips.

Indigo absolutely knew who you were now. Her eyes dipped down to the hyphenated name pinned against your chest, and now she knew you weren't a random civilian. She knew you were an officer who worked on North Island. She knew way too much as she took in every inch of your body. And she looked really pleased by what she saw.

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

He has his sweet moments, but Roo doesn't see the bigger picture here. Next chapter will reveal if Rose is going to have a brother or a sister. Any guesses? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[rosedustdreams]

Eyes on You pt2 pt1

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind kept replaying the moment Walker’s eyes met yours, the warmth in his smile, and the way he’d seemed genuinely interested in every word you said. It was probably nothing just an actor being nice to a fan. But the comments on your Instagram post kept poking at the tiny spark of doubt in your head.

Could there be something more?

You scrolled through your notifications, overwhelmed by the sheer number of likes and comments. Even people you didn’t know were chiming in:

“Why does he look like he’s about to write you a poem?” “Y’all better get married so I can say I shipped it from the start.” “Imagine meeting Percy Jackson and he looks like that at you.”

You laughed at some of them, rolling your eyes at the absurdity, but a part of you felt... flustered. The way Walker was looking at you in the photo wasn’t something you could easily brush off.

Meanwhile, across the city, Walker was sitting on his hotel bed, phone in hand. His team had insisted he stay off social media for the night something about staying focused and avoiding distractions but curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He’d spent the past half hour scrolling through Instagram, his account logged into a private alt that only a few close friends knew about. When your post popped up, he stopped. His thumb hovered over the screen as he stared at the photo.

There you were, standing next to him with the brightest smile, and all he could think about was how his gaze had betrayed him. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially at events like this. But there was something about you—your genuine enthusiasm, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about Percy Jackson, and the way you seemed equally nervous and excited all at once.

The comments under your post weren’t helping his resolve to forget about it. His favorite: “Bro, Walker’s out here looking at her like shes hung the stars. Good luck recovering from this one.”

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, but the grin on his face lingered.

-----

The next morning, you woke up to find your post had gone semi-viral. The caption was still innocent enough, but people were dissecting every pixel of the photo, reading into things you’d never even noticed.

In your DMs, one message stood out. It was from an account with no profile picture and only a few followers. Normally, you’d ignore something like that, but the first line caught your attention:

“Hey, I hope this doesn’t seem weird, but it’s Walker.”

Your heart practically stopped. There was no way, right? Someone had to be messing with you. But when you clicked on the account, the bio read something along the lines of: “Just a guy who loves movies and occasionally plays a demigod.”

Oh. My. Gods.

“Hi!” you replied, your fingers trembling as you typed. “If this is a prank, it’s a very convincing one.”

Within seconds, you saw the three little dots indicating he was typing.

“It’s really me, I swear. I just... wanted to thank you again for coming yesterday. It was great meeting you.”

You stared at the message, your mind racing. Walker Scobell—the Walker Scobell—was messaging you? Thanking you? What universe had you stumbled into?

“Wow, uh, thank you,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart was pounding out of your chest. “It was amazing meeting you too. I’m still trying to process it all.”

His response came quickly: “Yeah, same here, honestly.”

What did that mean? Same here? Did he mean he was trying to process meeting you? You didn’t want to read too much into it, but the idea alone made your cheeks flush.

The two of you messaged back and forth for hours, the conversation flowing so naturally it felt surreal. He asked about your favorite PJO book, your favorite characters, and what you thought of the trailer. You found yourself laughing at his jokes about filming and how nervous he’d been to live up to fans’ expectations.

At one point, he said, “You were one of the coolest people I met yesterday. Just thought you should know.”

You stared at the message, rereading it a dozen times before replying: “That’s really sweet of you to say. Honestly, meeting you made my whole year.”

Somehow, you ended up exchanging phone numbers. Walker insisted it would be easier to talk there, and you didn’t argue. The idea of having his number saved in your phone felt both exhilarating and completely insane.

Over the next few weeks, you kept in touch. At first, it was small things memes about Percy Jackson, updates on his filming schedule, and random stuff about your day. But as time went on, the conversations grew deeper.

He asked about your life, your dreams, and what had drawn you to the series in the first place. You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, and he did the same.

One night, he sent you a selfie just him in his trailer, holding up a peace sign with the caption: “Long day, but this made it better.”

“This” clearly referred to your latest text, a long-winded rant about how the gods in Greek mythology needed better communication skills.

You responded with a picture of your PJO book collection stacked neatly on your desk. “This is the shrine I’ve built in your honor,” you joked.

Walker replied, “Pretty sure you’re the only person I’d be okay with building a shrine for me.”

And just like that, the line between casual fan and something more began to blur.

A/N: pt3?????

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092, @shellsarepretty, @cheoriemoawa

[celenexox]

Lovebombs after the War-

Matt Sturniolo

summary: when you go and make things right with your boyfriend matt after an argument

warnings: swearing, arguing, fluff

you and matt have been at eachothers throats all day, and to be honest with yourself you don’t even know why, or how the bickering even started, it just did

it is around 7:30pm and you were sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone alone, if you were not in the situation that you were in with matt right now, the two of you would’ve been on the couch together laughing about something meaninglessly funny

then suddenly, you hear his footsteps approaching, out of the corner of your eyes, you see him stop and stand by the hallway with his arms crossed

“is this ever gonna end?” he asks you, barely above a whisper to the point where you couldn’t audibly hear him that well, but the message was still sent

you’re still mindlessly scrolling through your phone, not really sure if you should even turn up to acknowledge him, so you ignore him, not even knowing why

“so this is what we’re doing?” he says, raising his arms up

“you know what? forget it! why do i even bother trying, you clearly don’t want to resolve the issue” he says even louder now than his previous statement, causing you to flinch vaguely

he walks away and into your bedroom, slamming the door shut

you think to yourself and wonder why you didn’t just respond to him, like a normal human being, none of this would have happened and the problem could have been solved by now if it weren’t for you acting petty

tears start to form in your eyes, you start to feel upset about the situation at hand, and also start to feel bad for the way you treated matt

it is now 10:15pm and the house is dead silent, you finally decide to get up off the couch and do something useful

you went down the hallway very quietly and walk infront of you and matt’s bedroom, the door was closed but you could tell the lights were off

instead of building up the courage to go and apologize you walked a little further down and into the bathroom, you brushed your teeth and looked into the mirror for a second, eyes bags have formed from the lack of sleep and the exhaustion of the tense atmosphere that you and matt have created

you turn the lights off and walk infront of the bedroom door again, you put your hand on the doorknob and wait for a few seconds before ultimately deciding to finally open the door

you open it very slowly and quietly, trying to examine the room from the slight creak of the door opening before fully stepping inside

you could tell that matt was laying on his side of the bed, and you walk inside fully now

you sit down on the corner as his back is faces away from you

you put your hand on his shoulder and in a whisper you start to call out to him

“matt, baby, are- are you awake?”

you hear him sniffle a little before nodding his head, still not turning to face you

he had been crying? you think to yourself

“oh matt, i am so sorry for all of this, and for ignoring you, i was such an asshole”

he finally turns around to look at you, the lights weren’t on but you could still see his features and how his eyes were red and puffy

your heart starts to ache just at the sight of him like this, you had to fix things quickly

“im so sorry baby, i love you” you say, taking his hand and squeezing it

“im sorry too, it’s not just you okay? i messed up as well” he replies, in a soft and raspy tone

“can you forgive me, i never want to see you crying like this” you run a hand through his hair, trying to ease the pain

“of course i can forgive you, and can you also forgive me too?” he takes your fingers off his hair and into his hands

“matt, of course i’ll forgive you” you reply to his apology and kiss his hands

the two of you look into each others eyes for a few seconds before he pulls himself up, now you’re both sitting on the bed

you open your arms and wrap them around his neck, he wraps his around your waist

“i never want to fight like this with you again, promise me that it’ll never get this bad” you words are mumbled into his shoulder

“i promise you, it’ll never get this bad again” matt replies

after hearing those words, you pull him under the sheets and hug him tightly, thankful that the storm has ended so that you could finally go to sleep.

[jjkamochoso]

Dating Megumi Fushiguro SFW Alphabet

Fluff

Megumi Fushiguro x gn!reader

Request from Wattpad

Warnings: none

A/N: I made up my own categories for these so I hope you all like them!! Also, a HUGE thank you to everyone who’s been so kind and supportive of my writing!! I hope to continue putting out works you all enjoy☺️🫶❤️

A: Anxiety: does he get nervous around you?

Outwardly, on a daily basis? Not normally.

When you look at him adoringly or with that mischievous, flirty glint in your eye?

His nerves would go into overdrive; he’d assume he was having a heart attack with the way the organ pounded against his rib cage with a fury previously unknown to man.

B: Balloon: how does he celebrate milestones with you?

He’d swear up and down that life occasions (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) aren’t a huge deal to him and that he didn’t see the point in celebrating them. Truly, he didn’t—for himself, anyway.

When it came to you, he’d run himself ragged trying to think of what to buy you and where to take you. Jewelry? Flowers? Dinner? All of the above? Was that too cliche? You were so special to him that he needed to get it right or else he’d never forgive himself.

His high level of attentiveness comes in handy when you drop hints about what you wish to do on any special day!

C: Cute: what does he do when you call him cute?

Expect LOTS of eye rolls and scoffs to hide how flustered and flattered he really is!

D: Dates: what kind of dates does he prefer?

He loves calm dates at home that resemble a simple life of domesticity. Think easy dinners and snuggling up to watch movies before falling asleep on the couch together!

E: Erupt: what do disagreements or fights look like between you?

You don’t fight often but when you do, you’re treated to a quiet anger from Megumi. Rarely does he yell, opting to instead retreat into himself, in another room, when frustrated. It’s not the total silent treatment, but you deal with one word answers from him until you can resolve the issue together.

F: Favorite: what’s his favorite body part on you?

He’s not huge into physical touch but he loves your hands! He’s still in shock that someone wants to treat him as gently as you do. Every time you tug on his sleeve to get his attention, soothingly rub your hand on his back after a long day, hold his calloused hands in your own—he thanks whatever higher power dropped you into his life.

G: Goals: what does he want from this relationship? (Long term, casual, etc.)

When Megumi falls, he falls HARD. He doesn’t date to have fun, no, he envisioned your entire lives together after watching you from afar for many months before he even uttered a “hello” to you, wanting to make sure you proved to be a worthy partner before he wasted time having a crush on someone.

H: Hugs: does he like giving/recieving hugs?

Most of the time, no. When he’s feeling particularly cuddly, he’ll accept them from you, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

If you’re super upset or touch starved, he’ll treat you to a rare hug. Only in private, of course!

I: Insecure: what are his biggest insecurities in the relationship?

He doesn’t think he deserves you. He has a tendency to be hard on himself and he thinks there’s plenty of other people that might be better suited for you, someone nicer and more open with their feelings.

J: Jealousy: does he get jealous often?

He’s not overly jealous, he’s just protective (in his mind anyway). If another guy approaches you for any reason, he stiffens up and watches the situation closely to make sure nothing bad happens to you. He doesn’t intrude in the conversation unless the guy seems annoying or is taking too long to get to the point.

K: Kiss: where’s his favorite place to kiss you?

100% a forehead kisser. He has a particular fondness for the way he can exemplify his deep love for you in such a silent, respectful manner.

L: Love: who says “I love you” first?

Without a doubt, you! Megumi is much too shy to ever say something so weighty to you first. He would be overthinking way too much about it, wondering if you felt the same, if your relationship would change with his confession, how you would react. When you eventually told him you loved him, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders!

M: Mornings: how are mornings spent with him?

If you slept in the same bed, you’d wake up to find that he had wormed his way over to you sometime in the night, an arm slung around your midsection. His hair would be a crumpled mess, sticking up in random places, and he’d be grumpy if you found the sight funny. I feel like he’s an early riser so he might already be up with a coffee mug in hand by the time you’re awake!

N: Nights: how are nights spent with him?

One word: routine.

He has a regimented night routine, getting ready for bed at the same time every night without fail. You would probably pick up the habit of preparing for bedtime at the same time he does so you can get your cuddles in before he goes to sleep!

O: Open: when does he start to reveal things about himself to you? Is it gradual or all at once?

Slow and steady is the name of the game for Megumi. He would slowly open up to you, sharing small anecdotes of his life here and there while you two engaged in deep conversation. With every little puzzle piece of himself he dropped over the months, you were eventually able to construct the entire picture of the man you fell in love with.

P: Protective: is he very protective of you?

EXTREMELY. He might deny it but he always keeps tabs on you, no matter if he’s by your side or not. He knows it’s a dangerous world out there and he would hate to see you get hurt because he feels like it’s his responsibility to watch over you and keep you safe.

Q: Quiz: how much of the little things does he remember about you?

He’s like if a tape recorder was a person. He remembers literally everything about you. You offhandedly mentioned wanting to try a specific bakery six months ago? Next time he finds himself in that part of town, he gets you your favorite pastry. He knows exactly what foods you dislike, your favorite color, your blood type (just in case!), the childhood memories you have at the playground he walks by sometimes. This boy will genuinely never forget anything you’ve ever told him—why would he not pay attention to one of his favorite people?

R: Regret: what does he wish he could change about your relationship?

Megumi wishes he was the one to ask you out instead of the other way around. He didn’t have much experience romantically and it showed with the way he was hesitant to approach you, not wanting to bother you or make a fool of himself. Of course, he was ecstatic and relieved when he learned you felt the same way he did, but he feels like he should’ve swallowed his fear back then and been the one to ask you on a date first.

S: Show Off: does he show you off to his friends or family?

Nope. He’s not ashamed of you in any sense of the word, and you two hang out with Gojo, Nobara, and Yuji quite often, but there will be little to no romantic interaction between you two in public, especially in front of that group. He wouldn’t be able to stand the relentless teasing from his idiot friends and insufferable father figure. He does, however, allow himself to be softer with you when you two visit Tsumiki in the hospital, and it’s not because she’s in a coma and can’t see or hear you. You and her are his two favorite people, the ones who understand him the best, so he doesn’t feel like he needs to have so much of a guard up in her presence.

T: There, there: how does he comfort you when you’re upset?

Bro is Awkward™. If you ever started crying, he would panic internally, especially if it was before he knew how you liked to he comforted. A grounding hand would go on your shoulder and he would offer an ear to listen to your problems or be a silent companion to your grief. His steady presence would be enough to calm you down.

U: Utopia: what’s his dream life with you?

I see Megumi as the type to want a straightforward, uncomplicated home life. Being a jujutsu sorcerer, that’s practically impossible, so he savors the quiet moments he has with you before chaos erupts around him once more. In those quiet moments, though, he dreams about what it would be like settling down with you, owning your own place, getting married, the whole nine yards. Just thinking about that is enough to make him smile subconsciously as he holds you close.

V: Values: what are fundamental traits he looks for in a partner/relationship?

Loyalty is number one. He could never be with someone who would turn their back on friends or family. Honesty is also super important to him, he doesn’t have time or energy to deal with someone who tests his patience with unnecessary lies or beats around the bush when it comes to, well, anything. A third trait he looks for in a partner is passion. He couldn’t stand to be with someone who truly didn’t care about anything. Though he comes off as aloof, he cares about most things much more intensely than he lets on and wants his partner to have that same fiery dedication.

W: Work: what effort does he put in to keep the relationship strong?

He would do anything to see you smile and since he’s not one for grand gestures, his devotion shows itself in the way he’ll be a participant in every one of your ideas, no matter how dumb he thinks it is. For example, if you find one of Gojo’s blindfolds discarded somewhere and decide to wear it, emulating the powerful sorcerer with your best impersonation, Megumi will just sigh and shake his head with faux exasperation, secretly holding back laughter while being happy to watch you have the time of your life.

X: eXpressive: how does he show his love?

He’s big into acts of service to show his love! Anything nonverbal is right up his alley. Your fruit? Peeled. Lunch? Packed. The chore you’d been putting off for an embarrassing amount of time? Completed. If you mention how grateful you are for him doing any of those things he gets flustered, insisting that it’s no big deal while trying to hide his increasingly red cheeks.

Y: Yikes: what bad habits or red flags does he possess?

As most people know, he’s super moody. You don’t know what will set him off and when, and it’s super frustrating trying to get him to explain to you what’s wrong. Sometimes you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him so as not to irritate him further.

Z: Zany: what silly things do you do together?

When you’re out and about, whether on a date or just enjoying a day in the city, you two will people watch and create complex stories about the lives of the people passing by. It’s an unconventional way of sharing quality time but you both like the fact that it encourages creative thinking and teamwork as you meld stories together. Megumi doesn’t use his imagination all too often anymore, preferring to stay focused on reality, but he relishes in the time he has with you to let his mind run wild without the stressors of life weighing him down for once.

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow joe and his wife evie as they go through his football career.

series masterlist

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and others

evie: peaked at 0°

@alo @millyg

view all 829 comments…

user: winter cutie

> evie: ⛄️

lahjay10_: you know how to ride those things???

> evie: don’t be projecting your insecurities…

> lahjay10_: imma take that as a hell nah 🤣💀

user: wow looks cold

> evie: very observant of you. it was indeed cold.

alo: 🩵🩵🩵🩵

joeyb_9: snow princess. ❄️

joeyb_9: come home soon.

joeyb_9: and never leave me again.

> evie: i have a velcro hubby.

user: not joey missing his mommy 😉

> evie: PLEASE! I cannot do this. 😭

millyg: maybe getting drunk and skiing down a mountain was not our brightest idea. who’s going to tell joey that you sprained your ankle.

> evie: you apparently..

> evie: jb im okay i swear. its not that serious baby.

joeyb_9

liked by evie and others

joeyb_9: still having fun

view all 967 comments…

user: good to hear

user: @evie i thought we talked about the pink?

> evie: guys.. i’m sorry okay? sometimes when your man looks that good you’ve just got to take the chance.

> evie: what i mean is.. i was very distracted when he walked out in this.

> millyg: she’s literally just a girl yall.

user: we aren’t

user: as you should my guy!

evie: love you baby!

> joeyb_9: i love you pretty girl.

> evie: also.. it’s very much giving patrick star (iykyk)

user: blink twice if you are being held hostage

user: your stylist has you right

user: MVP fr

> evie: ‼️

evie

liked by bengals and others

evie: nashville 📍

view all 472 comments…

user: this game was so ?????

> evie: truly a roller coaster of emotions

user: i love ja’marr

> evie: i also love ja’marr

> user: weird thing to say about your mans bff

> evie: i think you’re the one making it weird. 🥴

joeyb_9: are you following me?

> evie: am i one of those girls that stalk their celebrity crush?

user: feels good to get a win. WHO DEY

> evie: yk what.. hell yeah!

user: rough game

joeyb_9

liked by bengals, evie, and others

joeyb_9: professional playmaker

view all 2,811 comments…

lahjay10_: 🎱 mile

user: sick play

user: what a dog

evie: my pookie king joey. ur so cool.

> joeyb_9: why do you do this to me???

> evie: love you pookie. 🤪

> user: this is great.

> user: so are we trading in jb for pookie???

> joeyb_9: pls don’t.

user: GOATED

bengals: SUPERMAN! 😤

user: mvp and it ain’t even close

evie

liked by joeyb_9 and others

evie: once upon a christmas..

view all 821 comments…

user: you skipped joes birthday.

> evie: i would never skip my baes birthday!

user: this is cute

lahjay10_: tell me why joe snowman is mute

> evie: he just skipped that part 🤣

> joeyb_9: in my defense i couldn’t focus because ja’marr and amelia were screaming at each other in the next room over mario cart.

> millyg: don’t bring me into this my snowman has a mouth…

> user: the kids are fighting

user: merry christmas to the burrows!

user: ev i love your slippers

user: i love that you so casually post your relationship. like it’s so normal?

> evie: it is normal????????

joeyb_9

liked by evie, sam_hubbard_, and others

joeyb_9: smooth operator

view all 2,551 comments…

user: smoothest operator in town

user: MVP

evie: sometimes babygirl is a 6’4 cincinnati qb, and that’s okay.

> joeyb_9: sometimes babygirl is my wife, actually no sometimes about it. love you babygirl.

> user: this is very important to me

> user: i fear i will never get over these two.

> user: they could never make me hate jovie

user: 🐐

user: all that to still miss the playoffs

evie

liked by bengals and others

evie: well, that’s all folks. #yearfive

view all 1,830 comments…

user: you are the ultimate wag

lahjay10_: you are the best of the best ev, always our biggest supporter.

> evie: love you j.

user: words can’t express how sad i am

joeyb_9: i’ll say it every time, i couldn’t do this without you. no matter how tough things get you always show me the bright side. you cheer for me even when i don’t deserve it. thank you for being you ev.

> evie: i’d support you even if you were the shittiest qb of all time. obviously that’s not true, you’re the best and anyone who thinks otherwise is just jealous. they know their wives would leave them for you.

> user: EV 🤣

> user: you always say the most out of pocket stuff I CANNOT!

> evie: okay so maybe i took it too far.. nobody’s wife is getting my husband. sorry not sorry.

user: get my guy a defense

user: the saddest send to the saddest season.

joeyb_9

liked by lahjay10_, and others

joeyb_9: Season to remember, sorry you won’t get to watch anymore. Year 5 in the books.

view all 8,640 comments…

lahjay10_: MVP LOADING

> evie: let them know mr 👑👑👑

user: continue to inspire, 9.

evie: it’s okay.. you’ll finish the story one day.

> joeyb_9: i know damn well..

> evie: okay, jokes aside.. i’m proud of you always jb. you are the most inspiring and resilient person i know. i’m lucky that i get to have you forever. love you more than words.

> joeyb_9: my wife. 🧡

user: chiefs were scared

user: it’s always a pleasure to watch you play

user: until next season joe!

evie’s stories..

[visionsofyouandme]

Alleviate

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel comes home from work, stressed after a long day. You offer some relief.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: No Outbreak!AU. Joel Miller x afab!reader. Domesticity. Joel is stressed and therefore a little needy. Swearing. Age gap or not (you decide!). Reader has hair that can be pulled. SMUT (18+ MNDI). Dry humping. Sub!Joel. Oral (m!receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Not proofread (oops).

𝙰/𝙽: Here's a little something for this Sunday. Delays for Heartlines and cowboy!Joel are imminent- got some personal stuff going on. But, I'm going to do my best to get them up and running here soon! Hope you enjoy this lil one shot of helpin' our man Joel out... Enjoy!

Joel slammed the car door and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face as he walked up the steps to home. 

Well, your home. 

He had gone to his own, yes, to shower and clean up. But, he felt a longing that had been in him since yesterday, and it had finally materialized once the day had faded to night.

Joel had been seeing you for quite some time now. Tommy had told Joel that he was inviting a “pretty young woman” to the Super Bowl party last year. Ever since, he’s had a hard time driving you from his mind. 

It had started off innocent enough- he would help with things that constantly seemed to break- the air conditioner, the washer and dryer, other appliances. He had come around enough that he stayed for a drink or two afterwards. And then he would stay the night.

Then one night after far too many drinks for either of your preferences, you kissed him.

Ever since, it’s never been the same. 

So, he found himself dragging himself to your house despite a long day. Not everyday, of course, as you weren’t his wife or anything- but enough that you stopped being surprised when he showed up. And eventually gave him a key to let himself in.

He took said key and did just that- opening your door and pushing inside, hand splayed against the door. He took a few careful steps in, seeing as it was late at night and he didn’t want to wake you. He would probably crawl into bed with you after raiding your kitchen, and call it a night. 

When he rounded to the kitchen, he stopped. You stood by the stove, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his buttoned flannels, holding a spatula. You turned to him, and he saw a surprised expression flash across your face that quickly changed to happiness.

“Evening.” You said, and he nodded, his eyes still lingering on your bare legs. He walked to the kitchen table not too far away, and pulled a chair out, sitting down. You took off the food from the burner, having finished cooking the eggs at just the right time.

“Rough day?” You questioned when he said nothing, and looked back at him. His eyes finally flicked back to your own, and he shrugged. Smirking, you walk over to him. Pushing your hands through his graying hair, you tilt his head up to meet your gaze.

“You know, if you can’t tell me what's wrong, I can’t help.” You chided him, and he breathed softly, leaning his head down and into your midsection. Your eyebrows knitted, but you pressed a hand to his hair, the other hand on his shoulder.

“‘M just tired. Fuckin’ customers and their shit. Y’know?” He said, his voice a mumble, but you caught it anyway. You nodded, looking down and pressed a kiss to his hair. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He lifted his head, his brown eyes normally hard were now soft, the line between his eyebrows gone.

“Tell me about your day.” He said, his hand moving to touch your thigh, wrapping around the back of it gently. If Joel was anything, he was a gentle lover. He liked being in control, but respected your boundaries, and only went as hard as you instructed. You were the deciding factor on how hard or soft it would be, and you liked it that way.

So, you took the moment and slid into his lap, straddling his hips. Your toes brushed the ground, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Well, it’s Saturday. Woke up, watered the plants, took a shower…” you recounted, and began to run your hands through his hair, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly. You grin as you could see the hard exterior melt away even more, and you massaged his scalp gently. His hands found their way to your waist, where he held you with increasing pressure as you touched him. 

“… made lunch, read some of my book. Caught up on a few episodes of…” you continued, your voice soft and even. You tested something as you ran your hands through his hair, and tugged on his locks.

He didn’t speak, but he did stiffen, and his head moved straight as he looked down at you. You regarded him with an even expression, but secretly wondered if he wasn’t in the mood tonight. 

His grip on your waist loosened, and he leaned back in his seat. You feigned a resigned look, but he then pulled you close to his chest rather abruptly. He pressed his hand to the small of your back, and you could feel his cock press through the fabric of his jeans. You let out a soft sigh, and began to move your hips just slightly against his.

Your panties offered little barrier between your core and the seam of his jeans. And that thrilled you.

“Jesus,” he muttered, your name coming shortly after. You couldn’t help but smirk, your hands finding his hair again and you continued to move your hips into his. His breath came out in a hiss, and he held fast to your waist, bringing you down more onto his clothed member. 

“You alright?” You questioned, though it comes out like a taunt. He looked down at you, and you saw a darkness within them that you had seen on a handful of occasions. You tilted your head to the side as if to ask the question again, and he took your chin in his hand with a bit of force.

“More than alright.” He said, his voice low. He then pulled you towards him and kissed you with fervor. So much so that you began to lean back from the pressure, but he caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He began to lift his hips against yours, and you let out a soft whine.

“God-“ you began, but he kept his lips locked with yours, and it quite literally took your breath away. He licked at your bottom lip, asking for entrance. When you didn’t respond to his liking, he slid his tongue between your lips anyway. 

Your hands rested on the nape of his neck, hands threading through whatever hair you could find there. You felt a hand wander from your waist, down to your ass, and he gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

He continued to buck his hips up to yours, and you swore you could feel a wetness pooling between your legs. You weren’t sure if it was from you or Joel’s precum.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your lips, pulling away to look at you with lust blown eyes. “I’m gonna need you. Now.” 

You were floored. He never really was this… forward. Normally he gave some subtle hints, or let you take the lead on things. But this time? It was very, very apparent that he was not playing patient tonight. 

“But, the food-”

His face told you, “fuck the food.” 

So, you could only nod, trying to hide the light smile as he picked you up by your waist. You wrapped your legs around him securely, beginning to pepper kisses on his neck.. Joel’s hand tightened around your waist, the other hand moving to your thigh. 

He walked into your bedroom and pretty much threw you onto the bed. You bounced lightly, and looked up at him as he began to undo the buttons of the flannel you wore. You watched him in amusement for second, until his face turned pained, desperate. You put your hands over his, and his eyes moved up to yours. You raised your eyebrows,

“Let me take care of you,” you said quietly, and he shook his head minutely, and your grip tightened. You raised your eyebrows, daring him to try to turn you away again. His hands eventually fell from the buttons and you stood up, putting your hands on his waist and turning him around, pushing him to sit on the bed. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, and you could see his shoulders drop just a bit. You ran your hands down his chest gently, and then slowly sunk to his knees. His hands immediately flew to the edges of the bed, gripping it tightly. You made slow work of opening his belt buckle, then sliding the zipper down. You could feel how hard he already was under your hands, and when you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, it stood at attention eagerly. 

You glanced up at him, and took him in hand, giving him a few pumps of preparation. He sucked in a breath, and you wiggled an eyebrow up at him.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing. Lay back.” you said, and he shook his head,

“No. Wanna see you-” he said, but it contorted into a groan as you swiped your tongue over his tip, then up and down the shaft. He shuddered, and you gave another experimental lick over his head, lapping up the precum. 

“Suit yourself.” you said with a teasing grin before taking him into your mouth. You took him bit by bit, hearing him breathe above you, going from pained to pleasured. You took him down to the base, his coarse hairs almost rubbing your nose. You began to move your head up and down, allowing the saliva to coat his cock, making it easier to suck.

“Jesus. Fuck-” he began, and you groped for his hand and placed it overtop of your head, urging him to hold you. He took the command, and threaded his fingers through your hair gently, but it tightened at a particular harsh suck, your cheeks hollowing out.

There we go.

You could hear him trying to hold back the groans, the soft pants that began to come from his lips. But, you alternated between sucking and licking, enjoying your time with him, drawing it out. You could feel him tensing beneath you, cock pulsing, and how he was struggling to hold back. His hand on your hair gripped tighter, and he then pulled you off of him with a force you never expected of him. You looked up at him, gasping for breath out of shock and exertion, and he pulled you to your feet. 

“Please- Please, let me-” he began, and you bent down to kiss him hotly, and he lapped up the salty taste of his precum from your lips and mouth. You did your best to rid yourself of your underwear, breaking away to slide them down your legs as Joel lifted his hips to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. 

You looked at him, and could see the most pitiful expression on his face. Submissive, begging, pleading. He had been like this before, but never this extreme. You somewhat liked it, having this much control over his pleasure. 

But, you couldn’t deny him. Not when he looked at you like that. 

He was about to move you to the bed when you took his shoulders and climbed into his lap for the second time that evening. You took his cock in hand, and positioned it underneath your weeping pussy. You could hear him sputter, give some kind of protest, but when you sunk onto his cock with ease, that shut him up pretty quick. 

“I’m supposed to take care of you, remember?” you whispered, taking his face in your hands, only to see his eyes screwed shut tightly. He gave the slightest nod, and you let him adjust to the newfound sensation of the warmth and silkiness of your insides gripping him. 

He said your name softly, barely a full breath, and you began to move your hips. His hand flew to your lower back, and brought you closer to him. He leaned his forehead on your shoulder, bucking his hips into yours as you took over most of the work. You swayed your hips back and forth, up and down, the wet squelching sounds filling the room. But, Joel’s groans and soft curses seemed to drown it out.

“So… fucking… good…” he groaned, and you kissed at his temple gently, a hand on his shoulder for more leverage as the other held onto his hair. He nosed his way down the flannel to the open portion of it, pushing it out of the way to begin to lap at your breast. When he took a nipple in his mouth, you gasped, your grip tightening in his hair. He groaned in response to the subtle movement of praise. 

You began to move with a little more force, feeling your own peak come on. You weren’t hellbent on coming, wanting to take care of Joel first. But, his hand pressed at your lower back, then grabbed your ass roughly, his hips meeting yours with deeper thrusts. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let me feel you,” he panted, and lifted his head to look at you. Eyes blown, lips swollen, hair disheveled, he looked like an image of lust. 

And he was all yours.  

The hairs of his base touched your clit just so, and you came down with a particularly hard movement, then another, then a third. He kissed at your neck, and you gave your first whimper of the evening as he began to suck lightly, knowing that it drove you insane.

You clenched around him, seeing stars, and exhaled a breath so deeply that you didn’t know you were holding. You felt him shudder underneath you, and he began to lift you off of him, knowing he was aching to come, but you held fast.

“In-Inside, inside, Joel,” you panted, sounding exactly like the desperate command you intended. You heard him curse a string of “fucks” softly, and then a groan that shook his chest as he came, his spend pumping into you in quick, long bursts. You continued your best to keep up the movement to prolong it, but your thighs were burning, and you were still reeling from your own orgasm. 

He eventually still, his head pressed to your chest, his breathing trying to even out. You knew your heart was beating fast, and sweat collected on your brow. But, you just wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in his embrace, knowing you helped him in the best way you could.

When he lifted his head, you tilted his head up to you, and you smiled gently.

“Feel better?” you said, and he smiled just the slightest. He was still reeling from his high, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt and pressed a kiss to his lips. He gathered his bearings and kissed you back, and you slid off of his softening cock, both of you hissing at the loss of contact. You rose on shaky legs, his spend dripping down your inner thighs. You began to turn to the bathroom, and he pulled you towards him again. He took your cheek in his palm and brought you down to kiss you deeply, your breath swept away in his mouth.

You pulled away, looking down at him and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it gently with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, I think you’ll make it through another day, Mr. Miller.” you giggled, and he stood up, pulling his shirt over his head before undoing the last couple of buttons on the flannel, backing you up to the bathroom.

“All thanks to you,” he said, and you shrugged with a prideful smile. 

“I try my best,” you said, pausing at the threshold and leaned up to kiss his lips. You pulled away just a bit, and tilted your head up to meet his eyes, wrapping your arms around his middle. “Do you wanna join me-?”

“Way ahead of you, sweetheart.” 

[callmemonster68]

JAY - Promised Marriage ( smut )

Y/N married Jay, a man she barely knew but was always promised to her. Their life together began with affection, but without intimacy. When Y/N is faced with jealousy and insecurity, her doubts about marriage come to the surface. She questions why Jay never got closer, and his response challenges everything she thought about love and care.

Pairing: Jay X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity / Arranged Marriage

WARNING: text a little longer than I usually write

Warning: explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands, group sex,double penetration, oral sex, anal sex, masturbation

Y/N was nervous as she prepared for the big day. The white dress fit her body perfectly, but it was the idea of the wedding itself that made her uneasy. She and Jay had been promised to each other since birth, but they had never met. The tradition of their families, rich and powerful, left no room for questioning. It was something inevitable, something unchangeable.

She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to imagine the man who would be her husband. What would he be like? Would he love her or be a complete stranger? And what if he were an idiot, like everyone said? The stories about Jay circulated through the city, talking about his charisma, his beauty, and his charming way, but Y/N didn't believe in empty promises.

Finally, the moment has arrived. She entered the church, her footsteps echoing down the aisle with a silence that almost swallowed her. And then, at the altar, she saw him. Jay. His heart raced. He stood there, imposing, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver. He seemed perfect. But, at the same time, distant.

The wedding was quick. The promises exchanged, the vows spoken, and before she had time to process everything, they were married.

Upon arriving at the apartment, a modern luxury decorated by Jay, Y/N was stunned. Everything seemed so... perfect. She didn't know what to expect, but she had never imagined anything like this. Jay led her through the house, showing every detail, as if it were a place for her. He made a point to prepare her, offer a glass of wine, and ask how she was doing. Each of his gestures was careful, as if he were protecting her from something.

But the real surprise came when he started talking about their life together. He never mentioned anything about intimacy, about what would be normal in a marriage, and that made her even more uncomfortable. Wouldn't it be strange for him? For both?

Six months had passed since the wedding, and Y/N still had that constant doubt about Jay in her mind. She felt safe with him, but there was something in her life that still seemed... incomplete. They never touched each other, never kissed. They only shared the bed, but the contact was almost nonexistent. He treated her with affection, but the emotional distance still existed.

On an ordinary night, after a long day, she found him in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Jay always took care of everything. The house was impeccable, and he worked hard in the family businesses. Y/N had no idea how he managed to handle all of that with such skill. She, on the other hand, stayed at home, enjoying the luxury he provided.

Y/N: Jay, can I ask you something? (with a low voice)

He turned around, smiling gently, as he always did.

Jay: Of course, YN. Whatever you want.

She hesitated.

Y/N: Why have you never... never tried anything? I mean, we've never touched... never done anything.

Jay paused for a moment, analyzing her words. His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and understanding.

Jay: I wanted you to feel comfortable, (he replied, with a calm voice) I didn't want to rush anything, Y/N. I hoped that, with time, you would understand my care. I didn't want you to feel pressured.

She looked at him, and for the first time felt a wave of emotion. Maybe she was being unfair to him. He was careful, more than any other man could be. He truly cared, not out of obligation, but because he wanted her to be happy.

Y/N: I... I was afraid of being an idiot, (almost in a whisper) But you are so perfect. I don't know how you do all this.

Jay smiled again, but this time there was something different about his smile. He approached slowly, without haste, and placed his hand over hers. The touch was gentle, but there was something there, something she couldn't define.

Jay: We didn't choose this, Y/N, (he said with a calmness that made her melt) But the moment we said 'yes' at the altar, I vowed to be a good husband to you, and to strive to love you. I will continue doing everything I can to make you feel loved and cared for. If you ever want more, I will be here, for you.

Y/N remained silent, absorbing his words. Maybe love wasn't rushed. Maybe it was something that grew slowly, like the trust she now felt for Jay.

Time passed, and the routine of Y/N and Jay continued with an unsettling calmness. He continued to be the perfect husband, taking care of everything, always attentive, always present, but the conversations between them were scarce. Their relationship, despite the coexistence, seemed stagnant, as if they were on a distant island, where words did not flow and gestures were brief. Y/N, despite feeling Jay's care, could not avoid the feeling of emptiness that spread within her.

Until the company's social event arrived. Jay invited her, as always, and she accepted, even though she knew it would be yet another event where she would remain in his shadow, not knowing how to interact with the other guests. But, that night, she was different. With an elegant black dress that hugged her curves, a gift from Jay, she felt more confident than ever. It was a night to shine, to stand out.

She entered the ballroom with a more upright posture, looking around, but her gaze soon found Jay's. He was in a corner, talking to a stunning woman. She had long golden hair, a charming smile, and a gaze that didn't hide her interest. Y/N frowned. She was a colleague of his, someone she knew was close to Jay.

The way the woman smiled at Jay, how he reacted to her gentle touch on his arm, all of that made Y/N's stomach churn. She felt something tightening in her chest. Jealousy. Insecurity. A feeling she couldn't ignore. What was happening between them? Jay had never shown her anything like that before. But the simple scene made her uncomfortable.

While watching, Y/N grabbed a champagne glass and took a sip, and then another, until the contents of the glass were quickly consumed. She didn't want to stay there, watching Jay, but the urge to know what he was doing with that woman was greater than her reason.

She kept drinking. The alcohol seemed to dissipate the pain a little, but it also increased the confusion in her mind. She was furious, not understanding why she was feeling this way. She had no right to feel that way, no right to feel jealous, because, until that moment, they had barely touched, barely understood each other.

And then, something happened. She realized she was starting to lose control. The alcohol was affecting her more than she had imagined, and the confidence she felt at first was replaced by a wave of uncertainties. Before she could control herself, she was already walking back to the bar, looking for more to drink, more to numb that tightness in her chest.

Jay, noticing that Y/N was acting strangely, stepped away from the woman he was talking to and approached her. When he found her, Y/N was sitting in a corner, her head drooping forward, with slightly glazed eyes. He approached quickly, his expression worried.

Jay: Y/N, are you okay? (squatting down beside you)

She looked at him with a crooked smile.

Y/N: Sure... I'm great... Just enjoying the party, Jay. You're having a good time, right?

She let out a little laugh, but the tone was bitter, as if she wanted to provoke him.

Jay didn't seem to be swayed by the provocation. He observed her, noticed how much she had drunk, and made an immediate decision.

Jay: Let's go home. (he said, firmly)

Y/N tried to get up, but the dizziness took over her, and she almost fell to the side. Jay quickly caught her, offering his shoulder for her to lean on.

Jay: You're not going to stay here like that, Y/N. Let's go.

While he helped her leave the event, Y/N still couldn't control the thoughts that consumed her. Why was she so insecure? She didn't know what was happening, but she felt something strange inside her. Maybe the alcohol had amplified her emotions, but the anger and jealousy she felt towards Jay were not entirely fictitious. She didn't understand his reason for talking to that woman, for looking at her that way, for... being so close to her.

When they got home, Jay helped her sit on the couch, taking off her coat and doing everything possible to make her feel comfortable. But Y/N couldn't stay silent. She was confused, lost in her feelings. She felt the anguish growing.

Y/N: You were so... close to that woman, Jay, (she said, her voice faltering due to the alcohol) I saw how she looked at you. How you reacted to her. What does that mean? You don't care about this? With what I'm feeling?

Jay took a deep breath, his expression serious.

Jay: Y/N, are you okay? Is all this because of what you saw? I was just talking to her about a company project. Nothing more. And about what you're feeling... I didn't know this was happening, but I never wanted to make you feel this way. You don't need to be jealous. I am your husband, and that will never change.

Y/N looked at him, not knowing what to say. She was confused, intoxicated, but she also wanted to understand. She wanted to know what he really thought. And, somehow, what he had just said seemed like a promise. A promise that he would always be there, by her side, despite the doubts that still existed between them.

Jay approached her, but still without touching her in an invasive manner. He awaited her reaction. Y/N, in turn, felt the whirlwind of emotions inside her. The night was just beginning, but the tension between them seemed about to explode.

Sitting on the couch, Y/N could no longer hold back the tears. The alcohol had given way to a flood of confusing and intense feelings. Her eyes were tearing up, and she couldn't stop thinking about everything she had felt that night. The jealousy, the insecurity... everything was crumbling inside her.

She looked at Jay, her voice breaking as she spoke.

Y/N: Jay... you don't desire me, do you? You don't think I'm attractive. That's why... you never did anything. Why don't you... touch me? Why don't you... sleep with me?

Her voice faltered, and she looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping for a response that could ease the anguish she felt.

Jay watched her, and his expression softened as he noticed her suffering. He approached slowly, as if fearing she might pull away. He knew that this question didn't come only from a place of insecurity, but also from frustration. He sighed, searching for the right words to respond.

Jay: Y/N... you have no idea what this means to me. You have no idea how much I have to control myself every day, (he began, his voice serious but gentle) I desire you more than you can imagine. Every day, every minute by your side, it's a struggle not to cross the line. But I want you to be ready. I want you to be completely comfortable, to desire me the same way I desire you.

He paused, looking into her eyes, trying to convey the sincerity in his words.

Jay: I know you're still a virgin, Y/N. And I don't want to be the guy who rushes you. I want this to be something that comes from you, when you're ready. I care a lot about this.

Y/N felt a strange warmth spreading through her body, a mix of embarrassment and desire. She had never imagined that Jay would think of her in such... a caring way. He had never mentioned it before. What she felt was a whirlwind of emotions, but above all, the need to be loved, to be desired.

She stood up, her body trembling slightly as she approached him. She felt an urgency, an uncontrollable desire to touch him, to feel his lips. She knew she wasn't at her best, that she was drunk, but the desire took over her. Y/N approached and, with hesitation, tried to kiss him.

When their lips almost met, Jay gently held her by the shoulders, pulling her away slightly. His gaze was firm, but also full of understanding.

Jay: Y/N, wait... I know you're confused right now, and you're drinking. It won't be fair to you, nor to me, if we do this now.

He looked at her affectionately, trying to calm her down.

Jay: I want you to feel safe with me. I want you to want this, and not just because the alcohol makes you vulnerable. Be patient. I won't do anything to you this way.

Y/N looked at him, feeling the pressure of the moment, but also a sense of respect for his stance. He wasn't pulling away out of malice, but out of consideration. She could see it in his eyes, could feel the tension between them, and it only made her desire him even more.

She took a step back, breathless, still trying to process everything.

Y/N: I just... I just want to know that you desire me, Jay. I want you to want me as a woman, not just as your wife.

Jay took a step towards her, now calmer, and gently touched her face, wiping away a tear that was rolling down her cheek.

Jay: I want you, Y/N. I want you, but in a way that is special. It's not about haste, nor about what happened at that party... it's about us, and the right moment.

Y/N fell silent for a moment, absorbing his words. She wanted to believe him, wanted to understand what he was trying to say, but the frustration still lingered in the air. She knew he was being careful, but the desire within her was not something that could be ignored.

When Y/N woke up the next day, the soft morning light streamed through the bedroom window, gently illuminating the room. She was lying comfortably in bed, covered up to her neck. Something was different, but at the moment, everything seemed a bit confusing, as if the previous night were a distant memory. Her head was a bit heavy, and a strange sensation washed over her. She looked around and soon noticed a tray with breakfast carefully placed next to her on the bed.

As she looked at the man beside her, her eyes met Jay's. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, a gentle smile on his face, but something in his eyes seemed to indicate that he knew exactly what had happened. When Y/N tried to remember the previous night, a wave of shame hit her. She couldn't remember all the details, but what came to mind was the desire, the interrupted kiss... and everything she had said.

Jay: Good morning, (Jay said in a calm and gentle tone, handing her the tray with a delicate gesture)

But before she could respond, he added:

Jay: It's all right, Y/N. I know it was the alcohol, not you.

She looked at him, and soon the images of the previous night began to return clearly. She remembered how she had approached him, how she had tried to kiss him, and the words that had almost left her lips. Shame took hold of her, and her cheeks turned red instantly.

Y/N: Jay, I... I don't know what happened. I didn't want to... (she started, trying to explain, but he interrupted with surprising calmness)

Jay: Y/N, you don't need to apologize. I understand. You were drunk, and I knew it wasn't your intention. There's nothing wrong. (he looked at her tenderly) I just wanted you to know that I'm not angry, and that you don't need to feel pressured.

But, as he spoke, Y/N felt something deeper growing inside her. His words, though kind, made her realize even more what she wanted, what she felt, and what she truly desired. She took a deep breath, and on impulse, looked at him with a different intensity, as if she were finally ready to face her own emotions.

She kept her eyes fixed on his, without looking away.

Y/N: Yeah, Jay... without the alcohol, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to say this. But the reality is that... I want to be desired by you. I want you to want me the same way I want you. And I want you to take me, Jay. I want to be yours for real.

Jay watched her in silence for a moment, and the tension in the air felt electric. He knew she was serious, that her words didn't come just from the alcohol, but from a deep and authentic desire.

He set the tray aside, and the expression on his face changed from a gentle understanding to something more serious. He approached her on the bed, and the intensity between them was palpable. But instead of throwing himself at her, he simply sat closer and looked at her with a gaze full of understanding.

Jay: Y/N... I've told you before. I desire you, but what I want is for you to be completely ready. I want this to be something that comes from you, with a light heart, without regrets. I want you to be completely sure that this is the right moment, because for me, you are everything.

Y/N felt a wave of emotions taking over her. She was nervous, but at the same time, her decision was made. She wanted to take that step, she wanted to be loved, desired, and cared for. She truly wanted to give herself to him.

Y/N: I'm ready, Jay, (she said with a confidence she didn't even know she had) I want you, I want to be yours.

He watched her for another second, and then, without a word, he pulled her closer with a careful and gentle gesture. He knew that this moment was important, and he was willing to wait as long as necessary for her to be completely comfortable.

But the simple fact that she said that, that she finally verbalized her desire, made the tension between them transform into something deeper. A new chapter was about to begin, and they both knew it.

The day seemed like any other. Jay had left for work early in the morning, as he always did, while Y/N stayed at home, taking care of the daily chores. But, on that day, she felt something different. The conversation from the previous night still echoed in her mind, and the desire she had kept for so long was becoming more intense.

She knew what she wanted now. She wanted to be more than a distant wife. I wanted Jay to see her not just as the woman who took care of the house, but also as the woman he desired, the one he could surrender to. She got up, put on something simple, and decided to go out. She wanted something for herself, something that would be a symbol of the desire she felt.

She went to the mall and, after some time exploring the stores, found what she was looking for: seductive black lingerie with delicate details that made her feel powerful and, at the same time, vulnerable. It was exactly what she needed to take the next step.

With the purchase in hand, she returned home and got ready. She set the dinner on the table, still feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Something inside her said that this would be the moment when everything would change between her and Jay. The kitchen was tidy, the table set with soft candles illuminating the space. She wanted him to see her in a different way, in a way he had never seen before.

When Jay got home, he was surprised to see the dinner table beautifully set, the aroma of fresh food in the air, and the soft glow of candles. Y/N was in the kitchen, with a discreet smile on her face, as if she knew what was happening, but at the same time, a little unsure about how he would react.

Jay: Hi, love... It seems like there's something special today. (Jay said with a smile, looking pleasantly surprised)

He approached her, and she gently kissed him on the cheek.

Y/N: Hi, Jay. I made dinner. Shall we eat together? (Y/N replied, her voice soft but full of an expectation she could barely hide)

They sat at the table and began to have dinner, chatting casually as if time had returned to normal. But there was a different energy in the air, a silent tension that lingered between them, as if they both knew something was about to happen. Y/N looked at him more intensely than usual, and with each smile from Jay, their heart raced faster.

Dinner went by, and the conversation flowed pleasantly, but the tension between them did not disappear. After they finished eating, Y/N stood up to take the dishes to the kitchen. Jay followed her with his eyes, and the feeling of closeness seemed to grow.

She looked at him, still with that shy smile.

Y/N: Jay, I've already organized everything in the kitchen. You can go upstairs, take a shower, and lie down. I'll finish here and come up right away.

Jay observed her for a moment, seeming taken aback by the proposal, but accepted without question.

Jay: Of course, Y/N. I'll be waiting. ( he gave a slight smile and, without further words, went upstairs )

Y/N stood there, alone in the kitchen for a few minutes, her body still trembling with the adrenaline of the situation. She stepped away from the counter, walked to the mirror in the living room, and, with a deep sigh, looked at herself once more. Now was the moment. She put on the black lingerie she had bought, trying to feel as confident as possible. When she looked in the mirror again, she couldn't help but smile at herself. She was ready.

When Y/N went up to the room, Jay was already lying on the bed, with a calm but curious look. He still didn't know what awaited him. She entered the room, and the atmosphere was now more intimate, with the lights dimmed and the mood enveloping. What she was wearing was something completely different from what he was used to seeing her in, and the tension in the air became even more palpable.

She stopped at the bedroom door, and their eyes met. Jay watched her, his breath heavier, but he said nothing. He was waiting for her to take the next step.

Y/N took a step forward, walking towards the bed where he was lying. Her smooth and determined movement caught his attention. She was no longer the same insecure person as before. Now, she knew what she wanted. She knew what she was offering him, and she was willing to receive the same intensity in return.

Y/N approached the bed even closer with steady steps, feeling the heat of her body grow with each movement. Jay's gaze was fixed on her, observing every detail, as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen. The silence between them was heavy, laden with palpable tension, as if they both knew they were on the brink of something that would change everything forever.

When she got close to the bed, her eyes met his. Jay was lying down, but his body was tense, almost rigid. Y/N could see the internal struggle he was facing, and it only heightened the urgency within her.

She moved closer, her fingers touching the bedspread while her feet gently touched the floor. Jay didn't make any move, he just watched, but his eyes were intensely focused on her. Y/N knew he was holding back, and curiosity began to take over her.

She leaned slightly forward, her eyes fixed on his.

Y/N: Jay… (her voice was low, but filled with desire) Why are you holding back so much? What's happening?

Jay took a deep breath, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to respond. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to find strength within himself. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but laden with an intensity she could feel in every word.

Jay: I... I held on for so long, Y/N. It wasn't easy... all these months, trying to make you feel comfortable, waiting for the right moment. But now that you are here, wanting this... I don't know if I'll be able to control myself. I'm afraid to give myself completely, because if I do... you might not be able to handle it.

Jay's words hit her hard, but at the same time, she felt a deeper connection. He was afraid, yes, but it wasn't a fear that she wasn't ready. It was the fear that the intensity of what he felt was too much for her, for what he knew she wanted.

She took a step forward, closer to him, and with a firm and determined look, said:

Y/N: Jay... make me understand. I'm here. I want you. I want you to take me. I don't want to wait anymore. Do whatever you want with me.

Jay looked at her with a mix of surprise and desire. For a moment, he didn't know if he should believe what he was hearing. But the sparkle in her eyes, the way she approached with such confidence... it was impossible to ignore.

He raised his hand, touching her face gently, his fingers gliding over her skin as if he were trying to memorize every part of her face. The sensation of Jay's touch was gentle, but there was an intensity behind it, as if he had been waiting for that moment for a long time.

Jay: Are you sure? ( he asked, his voice low, almost like a whisper, but with the intensity of a man who knew he was about to cross a line )

Y/N did not hesitate. She looked deeply into his eyes and, with a firm voice, replied:

Y/N: Yes. I'm ready for you, Jay. Don't be afraid anymore.

Those words, spoken with such certainty, were like a key that unlocked something inside him. Jay couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled Y/N closer, the pressure of their bodies almost making the air thicker. He kissed her with an urgency she didn't expect, but which made her feel every nerve in her body on alert.

The kiss, initially gentle, became increasingly intense. Jay kissed her as if he were trying to free himself from all the restrictions he had imposed on himself. Y/N felt overwhelmed by desire, each kiss, each touch, made her feel more alive, more connected to him than she had ever imagined.

While they kissed, Jay's fingers explored the black lingerie she was wearing, touching her skin with a care that contrasted with the intensity of the kiss. He made her lie down beside him, and the tension between them only increased. He knew what he wanted, and so did she.

Finally, when he stepped back a little, breathing heavily, he looked her in the eyes and, with a hoarse voice, said:

Jay: You asked me to set myself free. So, get ready, Y/N, because there's no turning back now.

Y/N smiled, the anxiety mixed with immense excitement.

Y/N: I'm ready, Jay. I want you to take me, without any more reservations.

Jay pulled her firmly, but without losing his gentleness. He made her sit on his lap, their bodies so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him. His fingers traced her back, drawing imaginary lines over the thin fabric of the lingerie that barely covered her skin. The contrast between the delicacy of the touch and the intensity of his gaze made Y/N feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

Jay: You have no idea what you're doing to me, Y/N...

His voice was hoarse, laden with emotion, as his fingers slid over her shoulders, gently pushing the straps of her lingerie aside.

He didn't rush, exploring each of her reactions as if it were a book he was eager to unravel, he withdrew her delicately. Jay's eyes did not stray from Y/N's face, searching for every small sign of approval, every sigh, every subtle movement that revealed she was as devoted as he was.

Y/N felt his breath against her skin as Jay tilted his head and began kissing the curve of her neck. The warm lips left a trail of heat that seemed to ignite every part of her body. His fingers, now more firm, slid along her sides, causing shivers as they explored the contours of her waist.

She tilted her head back, allowing him even more access, while her hands finally moved to explore his body. Feeling the tension of his muscles under her fingers only intensified the desire growing within her. Jay was no longer restrained. Each touch, each kiss, seemed charged with a passion he had repressed for so long.

Jay held her face with both hands, bringing her eyes back to his. The intense look he gave her took her breath away.

Jay: You are so beautiful... so perfect...

He whispered before kissing her again, this time more slowly, savoring every moment.

Y/N: I want everything from you, Jay...

She murmured against his lips, her hands gripping his shoulders firmly. –

Y/N: Don't hold back anymore.

He smiled against her lips, a smile that was both gentle and laden with promise. Then, he carefully laid her down on the bed, covering her with his body as the tension between them reached a new level. Jay leaned on one arm while the other continued to explore her skin, teasing and testing each of her limits.

Every touch, every movement, was deliberate. Jay was determined to show Y/N exactly what he felt, without words, just with the way he adored her with his lips, his hands, and his entire body. The connection between them seemed to transcend the physical, as if each moment was a new way of saying what words could not express. He stood up, standing beside the bed facing her, he began to undress slowly, observing her reactions, she watched him, admiring every detail of his body, biting her lips, closing her thighs in excitement.

When he finally got rid of his underwear, her eyes widened; it was the first time she had seen a naked man in person, but she was sure his cock was too big.

Jay: Are you afraid it won't fit?

Y/N: How many centimeters does this thing have?

Jay looked at his member and looked at her again.

Jay: Who knows? (he said, moving closer, getting back on the bed) Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? I never measured.

He held her legs and spread them apart, positioning himself between them. She tried to close her legs again, but he kept them open, firm around him.

Y/N: But I'm small!

Jay: And I'm a big guy, 1.80m tall. Did you expect me to be small?

She swallowed hard, checking his cock again, it was big, beautiful with the shiny tip from the pre-cum, she licked her lips.

Jay: Calm down, if God made it, it's because it fits. (he smiled) And well, you asked me not to hold back, now it's too late.

Jay held her thighs firmly, keeping them open, but without hurting her. The look he gave her was so full of desire that it made Y/N squirm slightly beneath him, the heat rising on her skin in an almost unbearable way.

Jay: You trust me, don't you?

His voice was low but intense as he leaned his body closer, making the heat of his skin come even closer to hers.

Y/N nodded quickly, lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

Y/N: Yes, I trust you... just... take it easy, at least at the beginning.

Jay smiled, but this time, there was something wilder in his expression. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing lightly against her neck as he whispered:

Jay: I'll take it easy... as far as I can.

She felt his weight against her, the heat of his body enveloping her like a blanket.

Jay: Last chance to back out, Y/N.

He said, although he knew by her expression that it was out of the question.

Y/N: I'm not going to give up, Jay. I want this. I want you.

Jay positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. Y/N gripped the sheets tightly, her head thrown back, trying to cope with the intensity of the emotions that were overwhelming her. Jay knew exactly what he was doing, he seemed attentive to every reaction she had.

Jay: Ready?

Y/N took a deep breath, their eyes fixed on his, and nodded.

Y/N: Yes... do whatever you want with me, Jay.

He entered her carefully, feeling the initial resistance, but ensuring that she adjusted to him. Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to get used to the sensation. Jay stopped, waiting for her to adjust, but his tense muscles made it clear how much he was holding back.

Jay: Relax... I promise everything will be fine. (he whispered, his lips brushing against hers)

Little by little, he began to move, the movements slow at first, but soon gaining rhythm as she started to relax and adjust to him. Each thrust seemed to deepen the connection between them, and the way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered, made her surrender completely.

Y/N: Jay... faster... I want more...

He didn't need any more encouragement. Jay quickened the pace, his movements now more intense, deeper, leading both of them to a state of complete ecstasy. The tension that had been building between them finally exploded, and their sounds filled the room as passion consumed them.

Y/N scratched Jay's back, trying to alleviate some of the overwhelming pleasure she felt, then her hands found his hair, and she grabbed it tightly.

Jay: Don't pull my hair so hard. (he asked with a voice hoarse with pleasure)

Y/N: Why?

Jay: Because I'll end up finishing faster.

Y/N: Like this? (she said, pulling her hair even harder)

Jay groaned hoarsely, his head tilting back as he felt her fingers intertwine tightly in his hair. He tried to maintain control, but the way she was teasing him was testing all his limits.

Jay: You want to drive me crazy, don't you? (he said with a crooked smile, his eyes burning with desire as he looked at her)

Y/N: I just want to see how much you can take... (she replied, her voice laden with boldness and desire, her lips curved into a defiant smile)

Jay, however, was not the type to back down from a challenge. He let out a low, husky laugh, leaning forward, biting her lower lip before speaking in a tone that was a mix of promise and warning.

Jay: You're playing with fire, Y/N. I hope you're ready for what that means.

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands up above her head, pinning her against the mattress. The movement was firm but not aggressive, and the look he gave her made her heart race.

Jay: If you want to play, that's fine. But remember who's in control here.

He leaned his body forward, moving his hips with more force now, the thrusts deeper, making Y/N arch her body against him, a loud moan escaping her lips. The intensity of his movements seemed to double with each passing second, and she felt as if she were being consumed by him, each touch, each kiss, each movement making it impossible to think of anything other than the man before her.

Y/N: Jay... I can't take it anymore... (she murmured between moans, her eyes half-closed as pleasure took over her)

Jay smiled against her skin, his lips brushing her neck as he increased the pace even more.

Jay: So let me see you lose control. I want everything, Y/N.

He released her wrists, letting his hands run over her curves, exploring every piece of skin while he maintained the intense rhythm. Y/N grabbed his shoulders again, digging her nails into his skin as her body was overtaken by pleasure. Jay seemed to have no limits, each of his movements was calculated to take her even higher, as if he wouldn't rest until he saw her completely surrendered to him.

Y/N: Jay... I'm... so close... (she managed to say, her breath uneven)

He leaned in once more, his lips brushing against hers in a hungry kiss, before whispering against her lips:

Jay: So come with me.

With those words, he intensified the movements, his hands gripping her hips as he guided each thrust with precision. The room was filled with their sounds, their bodies in perfect harmony, until they both reached climax together, a moment of pure euphoria that seemed to erase everything around them.

Jay collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they both tried to catch their breath. He held her close, his fingers tracing gentle lines on her skin while a satisfied smile played on his lips.

Jay: You almost destroyed me with that hair pull, you know?

He said, his voice still hoarse but full of humor.

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers drawing circles on his chest.

Y/N: I think we now know your weak point.

Jay smiled, kissing the top of her head.

Jay: You are my weak point, Y/N.

She snuggled closer to him, feeling completely satisfied and safe in his arms. The connection between them was stronger than ever, and they both knew that night would be unforgettable.

When their gazes met again, he whispered, with a voice that was almost a moan:

Jay: There's no turning back, Y/N. You are mine now. Just mine.

He kissed her forehead tenderly, a simple gesture but full of meaning.

Jay: I don't want you to feel like you have to wait for me anymore. I want you to show me when the right moment comes, and I will be here, ready to love you in every way you want. No matter how long it takes.

Y/N felt a wave of emotion wash over her. The feeling of security he gave her, not just as a husband but as a man, was creating a solid foundation between them. It wasn't just about desire, but about the love that was being built, about the respect he had for her, her needs, and her feelings.

Y/N: I didn't know what to expect from us, Jay, ( Y/N replied ) But now I know that all I really want is to be with you, grow with you, and discover more about the two of us. Because when I'm with you, everything seems to make sense.

They stayed there, in the stillness of the night, embracing each other, understanding each other more with every passing second. There was no hurry. There was no need for anything more than that shared moment, where words and touches were enough to build the connection that now seemed unbreakable.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[sinful-lanterns]

I totally forgot about Holstaur!Korryn from your Monster AU. I liked the idea enough that I'm sending you this little snippet of what I had in mind though. 😏 So let's say that Cow Hybrid Reader is the newest gal on Mira's ranch. The normal procedure is to have new cows settled into a separate pen next to the rest of the herd for at least a week. This allows you all to acclimate yourselves to one another safely before a proper introduction can be done.

And who should immediately notice you other than the best breeding bull on the ranch? 😏

Korryn is completely smitten with you, and while Mira already has several breeding contracts set up in place for her from several other prominent ranches (all hoping to get Korryn's genes passed along to their calves), Korryn stubbornly refuses to mount any of them. Thus, it's an absolute week of frustration as Mira tries her best to cajole Korryn into breeding the cows that have been arranged for her, but no amount of special treats or drinks or even the artificial scent of a cow in heat had been enough to convince her.

To Mira's immense chagrin, the latter just made the holstaur's cock even harder as she stared longingly at your pen from afar, but she still refused to get her dick wet with anyone else but you, so she just continued to nap out in the pasture under the warm sun, utterly ignoring Mira's demands.

Things finally get to a head when one of Mira's new ranch hands makes the mistake of letting one of the other breeding bulls too close to your pen, and Korryn is not having it. 😤

Korryn immediately races over and immediately headbutts the other holstaur with her larger set of imposing horns, knocking the other bull out with a single hit. While you're not particularly violent yourself, you can't help but get aroused at the sight. You can see why Korryn is considered Mira's best bull. Korryn is tall, strong, but also so very sweet. Sometimes, she would sneak (a funny sight considering how large Korryn is) around the ranch hands to get you the best apples from around the nearby orchard while flirting with you outrageously (and sometimes even filthily about the things she wants to do to you).

It's been a trying week for everyone to say the least, and when Mira tiredly opens your pen to let you out to meet the rest of the herd, you shyly approach the holstaur that's been occupying all your waking thoughts. Korryn, of course, preens under this acknowledgement that she was the one you chose.

She leads you away to a more secluded part of the enclosure. Her instincts are running high, and she doesn't want other holstaurs to try and interrupt you both.

On the grass, with the sun gently warming you both overhead, you get on your hands and knees to present yourself to the breeding bull, who eagerly kneels behind you to paws at your hips before properly mounting you. This breeding session goes on for hours and in various positions: Korryn had you on your knees, on your back, atop a hay bale, bent over the fence, against that tree...

Finally, however, you and Korryn are both sated, and she has you on her lap as she sits beneath a shaded tree, smug with her dick still inside you while you suckle at one of her large breasts to regain your energy. You'll all hers, and now every cow and bull on the ranch knows it.

Meanwhile, Mira is tiredly having to cancel any current breeding contracts regarding Korryn for the foreseeable future. 🤣 - 🌙 anon ((P.S. - I've still been procrastinating on making a blog, but I hope you liked this! Let's see how long it stays in your inbox, Angey. 😏 ))

CW: Breeding, monsterfucking, cow hybrid reader, bull hybrid character, monster au

🌙 anon you’re back! (Sorry I’m still hoarding like two of your asks but I will bring myself to post them I swear. The Drider! Garofano one and the Sugar Mommy Shalom and Rahu one are just too amazing, but I know I have to post them soon, it’s been a very long time)

As always, your asks never fail to deliver, they’re so nice and lengthy you should totally open up that writing blog! Anywho, Korryn being so turned on by Cow! Reader, but stubbornly refusing to mate with any other Holstaur is cracking me up. Her dick is all hard and leaking precum but she refuses to mount any of the pretty Holstaurs that Mira has on her ranch. What a stubborn bull! All Korryn wants is you, how pretty and innocent you look munching on the grass and sleeping under a tree. Her mind occupied with wanting you to be hers as she paces anxiously around her field waiting for Mira to let you in.

God forbid any other Bull Holstaur eye you up while under the watch of Korryn. She’d headbutt anyone who looks at you wrong, already staking her claim on you so everyone knows you belong to the best Bull on the ranch. I feel like similar to Rooster! Mavuika from my Genshin blog, Holstaur! Korryn never leaves your side and is insanely protective over you. While she refuses to mate with any of the other cows, with you it seems like she’s in a constant rut, always wanting to mount you and breed you so you can have a strong healthy calf with her genetics 😖

Korryn’s dry spell has now turned into a dripping wet spell because she can’t keep her dick out of you 💀

[jaded-jester-cadence]

Okay so I reread it and now I’m ready to go back with a PROPER addition to this conversation without bringing ships into this. (I will bring up some minor Solar/Nebula but this time it’s relevant to the conversation and more about the treatment of Nebula in this fandom I swear)

The female characters in LAES are well written- VERY well written, actually.

Let’s take Earth for example.

- Earth was created by the creator for one soul purpose- being a puppet essentially. She was created and raised in an environment where any true agency she had was fabricated at best, with a father her controlled and watched her every move and function. Her whole purpose was to be a caretaker, was to be this perfect thing and his most perfect creation.

- She was heavily sheltered from the world. She gave her family therapy because she felt like it was something she HAD to do- that and who else were they going to go to? Canonically animatronics don’t have rights and finding a therapist that wouldn’t just send a note to Fazbear of ‘hey shut these bitches down’ would be like trying to get Jack to stop eating sponges. Impossible.

- She is a fallacy of perfection; she was created to be perfect and that in of itself was an imperfection. She cares about other people so much it’s damaging and then she can’t STOP CARING.

- Ironically enough, this fandom reaffirms that statement as a character marker for her. She gives and gives and gives until she has nothing left and then for some reason is expected to keep giving.

- When lunar hurt her, the attention was on LUNAR. Poor baby lunar, (sarcasm) because how dare his siblings want to protect their kids??? How dare earth not trust him and even resent him after he literally MAIMED her!

- Nexus also backstabbed her.

- Earth gets blamed for literally EVERY. SINGLE. THING.

- When Nebula and Solar became canon? (Obviously there were people who critiqued it normally, which I appreciate, but the ship itself isn’t the point.) people started overwhelmingly hating on Nebula.

- Same exact thing happened with Pollux but on a more severe scale. lunar did the literal ONE THING THEY TOLD HIM NOT TO DO AND HE STILL DID IT. The astrals are obviously heavily traumatized, in a state of fight or flight constantly and are in the middle of a war. Gemini gave lunar chance after chance after chance, and Lunar responded with a spit in the face.

- Ironically enough, no one says a single thing about castor. Not. A. Peep.

Earth is a well written and relatable character. Just because a character is a good person does not mean they cannot be flawed; if executed correctly goodness can be the most devastating and debilitating flaw a character can have.

And earth has every right to be angry and resentful and she HAS had some MAJOR character development! She’s starting to stand up for herself, she’s starting to place harder and firmer boundaries and started communicating better. She’s also stopped the therapy thing as she realized it didn’t help but instead made it worse.

The problem was never the fact that the female characters are badly written. It’s the fact that so many people in this fandom are so goddamn sexist and entitled that the moment a creator does something they don’t like they start harassing them.

Creators do not owe you shit.

Artists do not owe you shit.

You are not owed shit.

People have become so cruel to content creators and voice actors nowadays and it’s… awful. And unfortunately I see the treatment of female characters happen all the time.

In The Dragon Prince, the fandom did the same thing to Rayla. In Naruto, the fandom did the same thing to Sakura. In MHA, the fandom did the SAME THINK TO URARAKA.

Women deserve better. Especially in fandom.

I get that the other anon was kinda aggressive and throwing things around. I also understand that your statement is supposed to be a comfort to Kat, but why bring something modernly connected to M/M ships like yaoi into the conversation where Kat is getting hate and harassment for Earth and her writing?

It just feels like you're trying to shit on M/M by using the hate directed at Earth and Kat's writing when it doesn't even have to do anything with it.

You can hate the "tragic doomed yaoi" pairing but at least do it in a post that actually has something to do with it.

And I'm sorry but in these shows, M/M ships are just better and have more chemistry.

Earth x Monty is very loved by the community, although it's a forced ship and Monty has better chemistry with Moon. Thing is, almost all male/male-aligned/male-presenting characters in these shows have great chemistry with each other.

Solar x Nebula is also forced. They don't have any chemistry at all. It says a lot when Solar has more romantic chemistry with his "supposed" brothers. And the VAs confirmed that they can change their mind about their familial ties if they really want to be romantically involved with each other, so it makes sense that they have romantic chemistries even if they "claim" to be family.

I FUCKING LOVE TRAGIC DOOMED YAOI

The point is that no one actually cares about the women in media!

It's frustrating! A woman can't do jack shit in media because if she's too brash, she's an asshole, and if she's too girly, she's stereotypical, and if she's too timid, she's useless! THERE'S NO FUCKING WINNING WITH YOU GUYS!

WHY ARE YOU FOCUSING ON THE MLM PART YOU ARE PROVING MY FUCKING POINT

THAT POST WAS ABOUT THE WOMEN AND HOW UNFAIR FANDOMS ARE TO THEM

STOP MAKING IT ABOUT MEN

[starsarefire824]

The Incantation Ch. 3 Preview

The roar of people is entirely overwhelming.  Viktor has never seen anything like it. They gather and cheer on rooftops and alleys and along the river. Enforcers clad in their righteous uniforms form a blockade to keep citizens from encroaching any closer as Jayce and Viktor are whisked inside an ornate stone building.  His skin pricks when his stranger-husband’s hand rests against the small of his back. His grip is strong and gentle. It is what Viktor assumes is some kind of public gesture of union and protection to his people. Viktor is unused to being touched, and it leaves him even more flustered. He leans heavily on his cane on the final step, and then is stopped by Jayce with a hand on his wrist.  When he looks up from the ground he realizes what he assumes is Piltover’s Council, a group of very official looking beings, are eyeing them expectantly.  Jayce leans in, and Viktor is again startled by his sudden closeness.  He grits his teeth and whispers near his ear. “They want us to acknowledge the crowd.”  Viktor glances about, his stomach turning and heart rate quickening.  “There’s so many of them,” he says through what he hopes is a sufficiently friendly expression towards the crowd. Apparently not.  “Relax your face,” Jayce chastens. “You look as if I am taking you hostage.”  Viktor twists his mouth and then smiles as best he can, offers a small wave. The crowd wails and all he can do is blink in shock.  He tries to keep his mouth still. “You essentially are—-,” he says smartly, not even caring if it’s out of line.  Jayce’s fake smile falters from his face and Viktor turns to regard him fully, finding him gawking at him.  Before Viktor can say anything, there’s a loud pop and a flash and another and another.  The newspaper photographers.  Kristos, he swears inwardly. He doesn’t even want to know what those photos will look like. And splattered across the front page of both Piltover and Zaun’s biggest newspapers? He wishes Kindred would just take him away this instant. Surely death is better than this humiliation.  Feeling hot all over, Viktor follows Jayce inside, away from the crowd. They are ushered to a great hall. It might be as cold as stone on a normal day, but today it is lit by many candles. Long tables are decorated with gorgeous white and burgundy flowers, each place setting set placed just so.  So much finery in one place makes Viktor’s skin itch. It feels foreign wrong. Especially for a day like this, an agreement made by other people that has decided what the rest of Viktor’s entire life will look like. What he will wear, what his magic will be used for, what he will believe, advocate for, who he will crawl into bed with.  It makes him feel cheap. Like an ornament passed around to the highest bidder. 

READ "The Incantation" HERE!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

A very interesting video by Neil Sean: lies from the Saint that I didn't know. by u/Human-Economics6894

A very interesting video by Neil Sean: lies from the Saint that I didn't know. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxYFjEb2Ks0The video is called "MEGHAN EXPOSED - ARCHIE- LILY & WHY WILLIAM WAS NEVER ALONE WITH THE DUCHESS!"Normally, and those of us who have been in this for a while know this, Neil Sean repeats what is already known out there. It's not often that Sean releases new things, or throws out interesting gossip. This time what he is telling is quite interesting and there are some gossips that at least I didn't know.1) the most interesting was the one with the car. When Megsy got married, she arrived in a Rolls Royse Phantom IV. The story I knew was that that vehicle was the same car that took American divorcee Wallis Simpson to the funeral of her husband, who had been king but abdicated, and as far as I had read, that vehicle had been assigned to Megsy. Sean says no, it was Megsy who chose him. She chose that Rolls specifically, because she knew ALL of Wallis's history. (min 14:52)According to Sean, that was a big red flag for the BRF, when Megsy chose that car, knowing full well who had used it. Didn't she say she didn't know who Harry was, nor who Andrew was even though she was Eugenie's friend? Weird!!!! 2) Megsy was desperate to be alone with William. That gossip has left me dumbfounded (min 18:03). Because Sean is right: William caught Megsy almost from the beginning. But there were two things that were red flags for him: the thing about Wallis' car and the fact that Megsy never talked about her father (Sean said that when William asked, Harry made "don't do it" gestures at him, that is, Megsy never invited her father at her wedding) But then, according to Sean's sources, who already appear to have no NDA in place, Megsy insisted on spending time alone with William. According to sources, she wanted to talk about Harry's mental health, about how to help him, but Sean points out that every time Megsy talked to William she saw him as if he were the best thing in the universe.According to Sean's source, William told Harry what Megsy wanted, that is, to be alone with William, and Harry didn't believe him, he scoffed saying "but if she wants to know something, she'll ask me."3) linked to the above: Sean confirms that Megsy recorded things (min 22:15). William refused to meet with her alone not only because he knew that she was recording (very strong gossip) but because he did not want to create a problem by staying alone with his recently arrived sister-in-law.In this great gossip, Catherine plays a role. Because William made sure to always be with his wife when Megsy appeared, to make it clear that any talk was with Kate present or there would be no talk. And Kate, intelligent woman, I never accept that talk. Since William made his position clear and Kate never fell under Megsy's false guise, she hated them. And she hates them. Most of all, from what Sean implies, she hates William for not falling for it.Seriously, this time I swear that watching Neil Sean's video is worth it. post link: https://ift.tt/fVLRWAp author: Human-Economics6894 submitted: January 27, 2025 at 12:24AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.