#i have almost never used it. but the two times i have it was So Very Necessary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missarchive · 2 days ago

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american jesus ☆

spencer reid

part two

summary; What starts as a seemingly innocent exchange quickly escalates into a game of trust, control, and desire. Spencer offers you more than just financial stability; he gives you attention, adoration, and a connection so intimate it leaves you breathless. From whispered words over the phone to moments of vulnerability, he knows exactly how to unravel you, guiding you to discover sides of yourself you never knew existed.

But with every dollar he deposits into your account and every command that leaves his lips, the boundaries between professionalism and pleasure blur. As you dive deeper into this intoxicating arrangement, you can’t help but wonder: are you just another outlet for his control, or has this brilliant man fallen for you just as deeply as you’ve begun to fall for him?

cw; +18 minors dni, masturbation (f), hints at masturbation (m), nudes, spencer calls reader "little girl" once, phone sex, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, inexperienced reader, pleasure dom spencer, fingering, dirty talk

an; this is the first part in my new series! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. P.s. this is written with jesus reid in mind <3 xoxo

The idea had been absurd from the beginning—a drunken suggestion tossed out during a late-night study break, your friend’s cheeks flushed from the cheap wine you’d both been sipping.

“You should totally do it,” she’d said, her voice a mix of mischief and daring as she scrolled through her phone. “It’s not like you have to… do anything. Just talk. Flirt a little. Get someone to pay for your coffee—or your rent. What’s the harm?”

You’d laughed it off then, brushing aside her suggestion with a half-hearted joke about the kind of people who used those sites. But now, with your landlord’s polite but insistent emails piling up, along with the crushing weight of tuition bills and credit card debt, her words didn’t seem so laughable.

Desperation, you’d learned, had a way of reshaping your boundaries.

So, against every instinct that told you to slam the laptop shut and find another way, you clicked the link she’d jokingly sent that night.

The homepage was a garish blend of pink and gold, its polished glamour doing little to mask the transactional nature of it all. The tagline—"Where connections are made"—was a cruel euphemism for what this really was: a marketplace. A place where companionship, or at least the illusion of it, had a price tag.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before you finally typed in a username: laceandliterature.

The flood of messages came almost instantly.

@ hungandrich; Hey, beautiful 😘

@ olderseekingyounger; I can show you the world 🌍💎

@ MrNaughty4U; $5k a week to be my princess. No strings attached 💵

It was overwhelming, a cascade of propositions ranging from saccharine to predatory. Some were masked in politeness, others made no effort to conceal their intentions. Your stomach churned as you skimmed through them, the realisation sinking in that you were just another product on a shelf.

And then, just as you were about to close the browser and pretend this had never happened, a new message pinged.

It was short, direct—refreshingly so:

[new chat from: @ thefourthdoctor]

@ thefourthdoctor; Intriguing profile. Shall we talk?

No emojis, no extravagant promises. Just a simple, confident statement.

You hesitated, your heart racing as you clicked on the profile. The picture was blurry, as if taken in haste, but it revealed enough: dark, wavy hair that framed sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses. His bio was sparse but intriguing, mentioning books, travel, and a keen interest in "meaningful conversations."

Something about it—about him—felt different. Not just the lack of overtly transactional language, but the quiet assurance in his words.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

This was a bad idea. You knew it was a bad idea. But against your better judgment, you typed out a response.

@ laceandliterature; I suppose that depends on what you want to talk about.

The reply came almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting.

@ thefourthdoctor; Anything but the obvious.

The words were simple, but the subtext was unmistakable: he wasn’t here for what everyone else seemed to want. Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. No sleazy innuendos. No dick pics. No hollow promises of private jets or weekend getaways. Not even the tired clichés of "Hey, gorgeous" or “What’s your body count?”—just a question.

It was startling in its simplicity, almost disarming. And for that exact reason, it made you pause. The absence of the usual vulgarity felt almost like a trick, a trap designed to lure you into a false sense of security. You had learned the hard way to be cautious online. Yet, despite yourself, you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you glanced at his username again.

A click brought up his profile, your curiosity outweighing your skepticism. The photo was blurry, clearly taken without much thought to lighting or angles. It wasn’t like the polished, professional headshots some of the other profiles sported. Still, you could make out the basics: slightly messy, long curly dark hair, intelligent eyes framed by glasses, and an awkward sort of handsomeness that felt... real.

The bio was brief—almost frustratingly so.

"Bibliophile. Traveler. Interested in meaningful conversations and unconventional connections."

It lacked the arrogance and ostentation of the others you’d scrolled past, the ones who listed their wealth or their penchant for “petite brunettes.” Instead, it was vague, yet oddly specific in its sincerity.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity tugging at you. Was this calculated, or was it simply honest? And why did it feel more dangerous than the others?

Still, you typed.

Your heartbeat quickened as you debated your next move. The smart thing would be to leave it at that, maybe even block him. After all, you weren’t here for emotional entanglements. This was supposed to be transactional—a simple trade: your time and charm for their money and attention. A means to an end.

Yet, against your better judgment, you stayed.

@ laceandliterature; The obvious is easier to avoid than you think, but meaningful conversations? That’s a tall order here.

There was a long pause, long enough that you started to wonder if you’d misjudged him. But then, the reply came:

@ thefourthdoctor; It depends on who you’re talking to.

You stared at the screen, the simplicity of his words sending a ripple of unease through you. There was no bravado, no performance. He was direct, confident, and—most dangerously—intriguing.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you debated what to say next. This was different from the other messages. He wasn’t dangling wealth in front of you like a shiny object or trying to buy your interest with empty promises.

And yet, the very absence of those things made you wonder what he wanted. Because he wanted something—everyone on this site did. That was the nature of it.

@ laceandliterature; Okay. What do you want to talk about?

His reply was immediate, as if he’d been waiting for you to ask:

@ thefourthdoctor; Tell me what brought you here.

The question hit like a dart, sharp and precise. Your stomach tightened as you read it again, the blunt honesty of it stripping away the thin veil you’d been hiding behind. No one had asked that before—not like this.

Most of the messages you’d received had operated on unspoken rules: you pretend this is normal, and they pretend they’re just being generous. But this man wasn’t pretending. He was asking you to be real in a space built on pretense.

And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you felt compelled to answer.

Your fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard. What could you even say? The truth? That you were drowning under the weight of your bills, your student loans, your own stubborn pride? That desperation had led you here, to a website where relationships had price tags and intimacy was commodified?

But what stopped you wasn’t the shame of your situation—it was him. The way he asked, as if the answer mattered. As if you mattered.

The tension in your chest twisted tighter as you typed.

@ laceandliterature; The same thing that brings everyone here, I suppose. Necessity.

You hit send before you could overthink it, before you could soften the edges of the truth. The reply came quickly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Necessity takes many forms. Which is yours?

You stared at the screen, his words pulling something loose inside you. This wasn’t idle curiosity. He was pushing you, peeling back the layers you hadn’t even realized you were wearing. And damn it, you wanted to push back.

@ laceandliterature; Does it matter?

You wrote, the edge in your tone slipping into the words.

The pause before his reply was longer this time, long enough to make you wonder if you’d misstepped. But then it came, and it was nothing you expected.

@ thefourthdoctor; It matters if you want it to.

The simplicity of his words sent a jolt through you, more potent than any overture of wealth or charm could have been. There was no condescension, no judgment. Just quiet, unnerving confidence.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. These conversations were supposed to be easy—shallow exchanges where you could slip into a version of yourself that didn’t feel the weight of real life pressing down on her. But with him, there was no slipping into anything.

He wasn’t letting you.

@ laceandliterature; What about you?

You typed, throwing the question back at him, daring him to offer you the same vulnerability he was asking of you.

@ laceandliterature; Why are you here?

His reply was immediate, almost as if he’d been expecting the question.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity.

You frowned at the screen, the single word both frustrating and enticing. It was vague but deliberate, leaving just enough room for interpretation to keep you hooked.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity about what?

The next message sent a shiver through you:

@ thefourthdoctor; You.

Your breath caught. One word, and yet it felt like he’d reached through the screen, pulling you closer, tethering you to him in a way that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

You hesitated, the heat rising in your cheeks as you considered how to respond. This wasn’t the typical transactional banter you’d anticipated when you signed up. He wasn’t offering money or promises of luxury. He wasn’t trying to seduce you with extravagance. Instead, he was drawing you in with something far more dangerous: attention.

And the worst part? You wanted it.

@ laceandliterature; Careful. That kind of curiosity can be expensive.

This time, the pause felt deliberate, a beat of silence meant to let your words settle. When his reply came, it was sharp, confident, and devastatingly effective.

@ thefourthdoctor; I don’t mind paying for what I value. Isn’t that what this is about, anyway?

Your breath hitched, the implications of his words hitting you like a shockwave. This wasn’t flirtation—it was a proposition. But not the kind you’d grown to expect on this site. He wasn’t offering to buy your time or affection outright; he was telling you that he saw something in you worth pursuing.

And that made him infinitely more dangerous.

Your heart raced as you stared at the screen, torn between the instinct to pull back and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t just about money anymore. This was about control, power, the careful dance of who would give and who would take.

You sat frozen, his last message glowing on the screen like an unspoken dare.

"I don’t mind paying for what I value."

The words reverberated through you, sharp and calculated, leaving no room for misinterpretation. This wasn’t a line meant to charm or impress. It was a statement of intent—a declaration of control.

And it was working.

Your chest tightened as you typed, your fingers moving before your brain caught up.

@ laceandliterature; Value is subjective.

The moment you hit send, you regretted it. It felt flippant, like you were trying to undermine the weight of his words. But maybe that was exactly what you needed to do—to wrest back some semblance of control in this conversation that was starting to feel far too intimate.

The reply came after a pause that felt excruciatingly long:

@ thefourthdoctor; It is. But I’m a man who knows how to discern.

Your throat tightened, the confidence in his words striking a chord deep within you. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was setting the rules. And despite yourself, you found it maddeningly enticing.

@ laceandliterature; Discernment is rare here.

You replied, leaning into the dynamic, testing the boundaries of this strange connection.

His next message came faster this time, as if he’d been waiting for you to lean in:

@ thefourthdoctor; So is honesty. Tell me, how rare are you?

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing as you stared at the question. It wasn’t what you expected—not here, not from someone you’d never met. And yet, it was the kind of question you couldn’t dismiss with a coy quip or vague answer.

@ laceandliterature; Enough to know my worth.

You typed, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your response.

His reply came swiftly.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then you’ll understand why I won’t insult you with empty offers. Tell me what you want.

Your pulse quickened. There it was—the shift you’d been waiting for, the moment the conversation turned from hypothetical to concrete. But this was different from the others. He wasn’t throwing numbers at you, wasn’t dangling luxury in front of you like bait. He was putting the power in your hands, asking you to decide the terms.

It was intoxicating. And terrifying.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. What did you want? Money was the obvious answer—wasn’t it? That was why you were here in the first place. But now, with him, it didn’t feel so simple.

@ laceandliterature; That depends… What are you offering?

The pause before his response was agonizing, each second stretching longer than the last. And then it came:

@ thefourthdoctor; Time. Money. Attention. Answers, if you’re brave enough to ask the right questions.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. He wasn’t offering material things, at least not yet. He was offering something far more valuable—and far more dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your palms damp as you considered your next move. He’d shifted the power dynamic yet again, pulling you deeper into a game you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to play.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you want in return?

The question leaving you more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

His response was immediate, his words a quiet, commanding echo in your mind:

@ thefourthdoctor; Exactly what you’re willing to give me.

The simplicity of his answer hit you harder than any declaration of wealth or desire could have. It wasn’t just about money or power or control—it was about you. Your choices, your limits, your willingness to engage in this careful, intoxicating dance.

And that realisation sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You could walk away now. Close the laptop, block his profile, and pretend this never happened. But the truth was, you didn’t want to.

Because for the first time since you’d joined this site, you felt seen. Not as an object, not as a commodity, but as a person.

His words clung to you, each syllable daring you to define what you were prepared to offer. He was turning the mirror back on you, forcing you to confront not just the situation but yourself.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t playing by the rules you expected, and that made him unpredictable. Dangerous. But it also made him irresistible.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a clever way of saying nothing. Ambiguity suits you.

The reply came quickly, almost as if he’d anticipated your deflection.

@ thefourthdoctor; Clarity can be earned, if you’re willing to play the game.

Your breath hitched. There it was again—that quiet, assured confidence that pulled you in despite every warning bell ringing in your head. He wasn’t offering platitudes or empty promises. He was offering a challenge, one that was as maddening as it was magnetic.

@ laceandliterature; And what game is that?

The pause before his answer felt deliberate, a calculated silence that only heightened your anticipation. When his message finally appeared, it sent a shiver through you:

@ laceandliterature; The one we’re already playing. You just haven’t realised it yet.

Your pulse quickened, your palms damp as you stared at the screen. He was toying with you, but not in the way you’d experienced before. This wasn’t about cheap thrills or transparent power plays. This was about control—subtle, seductive, and entirely in his hands.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t recall agreeing to any rules.

The sharpness of your words masking the unease curling in your chest.

His reply was swift, the confidence in his words cutting through the haze of your thoughts:

@ thefourthdoctor; You didn’t have to. You agreed the moment you responded.

The audacity of his statement left you momentarily breathless. He was right, of course, and that infuriated you. But it also thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself

You shot back, your fingers trembling as you hit send. The response came almost immediately.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is the privilege of knowing what you want. Do you?

Your chest tightened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. What did you want? It was supposed to be simple—a means to an end, a way to solve your financial problems without complicating your life. But now, with him, it felt far from simple.

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t like the other conversations you’d had on this site. He wasn’t just offering money or gifts; he was offering an exchange of a different kind. One that blurred the lines between power and vulnerability, control and surrender.

@ laceandliterature; I think you already know the answer.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. Then we’re getting somewhere.

You exhaled sharply, the tension in your chest both exhilarating and suffocating. He had you cornered, and he knew it. But the worst part? You didn’t want to leave.

@ laceandliterature; And where exactly is that?

The question both a challenge and a plea. His response sent a chill down your spine.

@ thefourthdoctor; Where we figure out if you’re ready to trust me.

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable. Trust. It was a loaded word, especially here, in a space where every interaction felt transactional. But with him, it didn’t feel like a demand—it felt like an invitation.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as you typed your response:

@ laceandliterature; Trust is earned, Doctor. How do you plan on earning mine?

The pause before his reply was excruciating, every second stretching longer than the last. And then, finally, his message appeared.

@ thefourthdoctor; Patience. Honesty. And just enough mystery to keep you coming back.

Your breath caught, the sheer confidence of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was rewriting the rules, pulling you deeper into his orbit with every word.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

@ laceandliterature; Then I suppose we’ll see how well you play.

@ thefourthdoctor; We already are.

The message lingered on the screen, a challenge and a promise all at once. And as you stared at it, your heart racing and your mind spinning, one thing became clear:

Here’s the continuation, intensifying the emotional and psychological stakes, as well as the power dynamics:

You could feel it in the way your heart raced, in the way your mind struggled to pull together coherent thoughts. It was maddening. Dangerous. And yet, some part of you craved the thrill of it.

@ laceandliterature; What makes you so sure of that?

@ thefourthdoctor; Because you’re still here.

Your lips parted in a soft exhale, the truth in his words sending a shiver down your spine. He was right—you were still here, still engaged, still drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

@ laceandliterature; Maybe I’m just curious.

His response was immediate, his confidence unshaken.

@ thefourthdoctor; Curiosity is the first step to surrender. And you’re closer than you think.

Your pulse quickened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. Surrender. The word hung there, heavy and intoxicating, pulling you deeper into his web.

@ laceandliterature; Surrender isn’t in my vocabulary.

The sharpness of your reply more for your benefit than his.

@ thefourthdoctor; That’s because no one’s ever taught you how to do it properly.

The breath left your lungs in a quiet rush, your body betraying you with a thrill that raced down your spine. He wasn’t just confident—he was audacious, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

@ laceandliterature; And you think you’re the one to teach me?

@ thefourthdoctor; I know I am.

Your throat tightened, his certainty pulling you further into the undertow. There was no pretence with him, no fumbling for the right words to impress or seduce. He spoke with a quiet authority that was impossible to ignore—and even harder to resist.

@ laceandliterature; You’re awfully sure of yourself, Doctor.

You wrote, the name a deliberate choice, a way to remind yourself that he was still just a man on the other side of a screen.

But his next message stripped away any illusion of simplicity.

@ thefourthdoctor; Confidence is earned. You’ll see.

The promise in his words sent your mind reeling, the tension in your chest building with every passing second. He wasn’t offering wealth or gifts or superficial praise. He was offering himself—his attention, his intellect, his dominance—and it was unlike anything you’d ever encountered.

You leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady your breathing. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a collision of wills, a power struggle where the stakes felt dangerously personal.

@ laceandliterature; And if I decide to stop playing?

His reply came slower this time, each word calculated, precise.

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But we both know you won’t.

Your breath caught, the quiet confidence in his message leaving you stunned. He wasn’t trying to trap you—he was daring you to walk away. And that made him even more dangerous.

@ laceandliterature; You seem very sure of my choices

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of your curiosity. And that’s enough.

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding, your mind spinning. He was right—you were curious. About him, about this, about where it could lead. And that curiosity was already pulling you deeper, binding you to him in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

And as you sat there, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, one thought echoed in your mind:

You weren’t just playing his game anymore.

You were losing.

His words were a masterstroke, the kind of deliberate confidence that didn’t demand submission but invited it, coaxed it out of you with unsettling precision. He wasn’t forcing you into anything. He didn’t have to.

You were leaning in all on your own.

@ laceandliterature; Curiosity is dangerous.

The words meant as both a warning and a defense. You weren’t sure if you were telling him or reminding yourself.

His reply came almost instantly, as if he’d anticipated your hesitation.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, in the wrong hands. But I think you know by now—I don’t intend to hurt you.

Your chest tightened, the unexpected gentleness in his response catching you off guard. It wasn’t a dismissal of your fears; it was an acknowledgment, a reassurance that felt disarmingly genuine.

@ laceandliterature; What do you intend to do, then?

The pause before his reply was deliberate, stretching just long enough to heighten the tension without breaking it.

@ thefourthdoctor; Challenge you. Teach you. Protect you, if you let me.

Your breath hitched, his words striking a chord deep within you. The power in his offer wasn’t in its force but in its certainty, its quiet promise of control without cruelty, dominance without destruction.

@ laceandliterature; That’s a tall order.

@ thefourthdoctor; I’ve never been afraid of a challenge.

The simplicity of his answer left you momentarily stunned. He wasn’t boasting, wasn’t trying to impress you. He was stating a fact, one that resonated with an authority you couldn’t ignore.

@ laceandliterature; And what do you get out of this?

@ thefourthdoctor; The pleasure of watching you grow. The satisfaction of knowing you’re safe. And maybe, if you’re willing, a connection worth more than either of us expected.

Your chest tightened, his words threading through the cracks in your defences with startling ease. He wasn’t just offering a transaction; he was offering something far deeper, something that terrified and intrigued you in equal measure.

@ laceandliterature; You make it sound so simple.

@ thefourthdoctor; It can be, if you trust me. But I won’t rush you. This is your choice.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you. He wasn’t demanding anything from you, wasn’t using manipulation or coercion. He was giving you the space to decide, to choose whether to step into the unknown or retreat to the safety of your walls.

@ laceandliterature; What if I don’t know how to trust someone like you?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll show you how, baby. Step by step. But only if you’re willing.

The kindness in his words was a stark contrast to the intensity of his presence, a reminder that his control wasn’t about overpowering you—it was about guiding you, supporting you, meeting you where you were and pulling you gently forward.

@ laceandliterature; And if I’m not?

@ thefourthdoctor; Then I’ll let you go. But I don’t think you want me to.

The truth in his words hit you like a jolt, your heart racing as you stared at the screen. He was right—you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to retreat into the safety of solitude, not when he was offering something so intoxicatingly rare.

@ laceandliterature; You’re very sure of yourself

@ thefourthdoctor; I’m sure of you. And I’m willing to wait until you are too.

The words lingered on the screen, a challenge and a reassurance all at once. He wasn’t just pulling you into his world—he was offering to walk beside you, to guide you through the uncharted territory of trust and surrender.

And as you stared at his message, your pulse thrumming in your ears, one thing became abundantly clear. You wanted to see where this could lead.

Your fingers trembled as you typed your reply.

@ laceandliterature; I don’t know where this is going.

His response came swiftly, his dominance tempered by kindness:

@ thefourthdoctor; Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time.

When the evening settled and the quiet of your room enveloped you, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. His last message still lingered there:

"Then let me be the one to show you. One step at a time."

Trust. The word had seemed so monumental when he’d said it, and now it felt even heavier in the quiet intimacy of your room.

Your eyes wandered to the package on your desk, the one that had arrived just days ago. The lingerie you’d bought with the money he’d sent—not something you’d ever imagined doing, much less showing anyone. But his insistence had stayed with you.

"This is for you," he’d written. "Because you deserve to feel special."

You’d laughed at the time, unsure how to process the sincerity in his words. But now, with the soft lace spread out in front of you, you felt the weight of his kindness.

On impulse, you slipped it on, the delicate fabric hugging your body in a way that felt both indulgent and empowering. It wasn’t something you’d ever have bought for yourself, but now, wearing it, you understood the quiet confidence it offered.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushing as you adjusted the straps. The blush-colored lace was intricate and feminine, the perfect balance of modesty and allure. You hesitated, biting your lip as your phone buzzed in your hand.

Finally, you snapped a photo—nothing overly revealing, just the curve of your body hinted at in the soft light, the lace framing your figure. It felt daring, intimate, and, most of all, you felt like his.

With a shaky breath, you typed a caption for the image.

@ laceandliterature; Thank you. I thought you should see where your funds are going.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as the message left your screen.

@ thefourthdoctor; You’re so beautiful, my little angel.

Your breath caught at the simplicity of his words. There was no embellishment, no flourish—just a quiet, sincere acknowledgment that made your chest tighten.

Another message followed, slower this time, as if he’d chosen each word carefully.

@ thefourthdoctor; Thank you for trusting me with this. How does it make you feel?

His question sent a ripple of warmth through you. He wasn’t just admiring you; he cared about how you felt, ensuring that this moment wasn’t just for him.

@ laceandliterature; It feels… different. In a good way.

The dots danced on the screen before his next message appeared.

@ thefourthdoctor; Good. That’s exactly how it should feel. You deserve to feel confident and cared for.

You smiled despite yourself, the warmth of his words cutting through the lingering nerves. He had a way of making you feel seen, like every action, every choice you made mattered to him.

@ laceandliterature; I wasn’t sure about sending it, I’ve never done anything like that before.

You admitted, your honesty surprising even you.

@ thefourthdoctor; You don’t need to worry. You’re safe with me. Always.

The reassurance in his words settled something deep inside you. He wasn’t just saying it—he meant it, every word carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Before you could respond, your phone vibrated in your hand, his name lighting up the screen. You hadn't expected him to call so soon, but the smile that spread across your face at the sight of his name felt entirely natural.

Your throat pinched, the air suddenly feeling all too warm. Neither of you had ever initiated a call before, what would he sound like? Deciding to push your nerves to the side, you answer the call.

"I was thinking you might not pick up for a moment there," his voice was low and smooth, a hint of amusement dancing through his words. "I hope you know this isn’t just about the photo. It’s about you. What you need, what you want. If you’re ever unsure, tell me. I’ll always listen."

"I guess I just couldn’t help myself," you teased, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory of how vulnerable you'd felt.

"Yeah? Am I living up to the expectation?" he murmured, and you could hear the laughter in his voice. It wasn’t a mocking sort of amusement, just a quiet acknowledgment that you both knew where this conversation was heading. And that, he hoped, neither one of you would shy away from it.

You laughed, a softness you'd never known you were capable of settling into your chest. There had been something so unexpectedly freeing about the experience—about wearing it made you flush with warmth.

“You could say that…”

“What were you hoping for, when you sent me that photo?”

The thought sent an immediate ache through your body, the suggestion of his touch, of the things he might do to you, sending a wave of desire through you. Your mind raced with images of “him” above you, of his hands pinning your wrists to the bed as he thrust into you. The thought was enough to make you flush, the ache of need between your legs becoming almost unbearable.

"Nothing.” You couldn’t even pretend to feign nonchalance when his words had been so unflinchingly honest, when the promise of what lay ahead was so tantalisingly clear.

"I’ll make it easier for you, then. What are you thinking about right now?" he said bluntly, his words sending a rush of heat through your entire body. There was nothing ambiguous or hesitant about his command; he wanted this, and he expected you to do it. "Tell me what you want, angel. I can give you that."

You twist the fabric hem of the lingerie around your fingers nervously, chewing at the dry skin on the edge of your lips. “I- I don’t know how to do this.”

He chuckles softly, voice still full of kindness. “Then you don’t have to do anything, let me do all the work, baby.”

You’re quiet for a moment, pondering your options. Before nodding to yourself, deciding you’d have to let go of your nerves for the time being if you wanted this to continue.

“Okay.” You whisper, almost inaudibly. He wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he’d not been paying such close attention.

You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of boldness. "I... I've always had this fantasy of being guided by a man... someone who knows what he wants and can show me new pleasures. I’ve never had that chance before… I was hoping maybe that could be you."

"Oh, angel, you have no idea how much I want to fulfil those desires," He purred. "I can be your guide, your teacher, and your lover all in one."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you felt your core tighten with anticipation. "I... I think I'd like that very much."

"I want you to relax and get comfortable for me, can you do that, baby?. Dim the lights, light a candle, whatever you need to do."

Obeying his instructions, you lit a scented candle, filling the room with a soft, flickering glow and a hint of vanilla. You kicked off your shoes and slid under the covers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's it, sweet girl," He whispered. "Now, I want you to imagine my hands on your body, caressing your skin, exploring every inch of you. Feel my touch, soft and gentle, as I trace your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts."

As you listened, you closed your eyes, visualising his strong, masculine hands on your body. You imagined his fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples, causing them to harden in response. Soft whimpers escaping your lips as you reach up to cup your breasts, mimicking his touch.

"That's right, angel," he encouraged. "Touch yourself for me. Feel how soft you are, how sweet.”

Your fingers obeyed, teasing your nipples, rolling and tugging at the sensitive peaks. You arched your back, pressing your breasts into your palms, and let out a soft cry of pleasure.

"Do you like that, little girl?" He asked, his voice thick with desire. "I wish you could see what you do to me."

"Yes, Doctor," you breathed, your voice heavy with arousal. “It feels so good."

"Now, slide your hand down your stomach, past your navel, and into the heat between your thighs," he instructed, his voice a seductive command. "Feel how wet you are for me, how your body responds to my words."

Your hand trembled as you obeyed, slipping beneath the covers and finding your way to your core. Your fingers brushed against your wet folds, and you gasped at the sensation.

"Oh, god, baby. You're so wet, aren’t you? I can hear it," He growled. "Rub your fingers along your pussy, coat them with your sweetness.”

You did as he said, moaning as your fingers slipped into your tight cunt. You were so wet, so ready, and the sensation of filling yourself sent waves of pleasure through your body. Taking the phone down your body, you hold it in front of your dripping pussy. Your microphone picking up on the sounds as your fingers slip through your folds.

"What a noisy fucking pussy, that's it, that's my girl," he encouraged. "Fuck yourself with your fingers, slowly at first, imagine it's my cock inside you, claiming your tight little cunt."

Your fingers moved in and out, your pace increasing as your pleasure spiralled. You imagined Spencer's thick, hard length filling you, his powerful body driving into yours.

"Yeah, fuck yourself for me," he urged. "Let go, angel girl. Come for me, and let me hear your sweet cries."

Your fingers worked frantically, your body on the brink of ecstasy. His words, his deep, commanding voice, pushed you over the edge. With a cry of release, you climaxed, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered, whispering soft praise over the phone, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That sounded like a lot, hm? You still with me, beautiful?."

"I know that wasn’t easy for you, but it was beautiful to hear." His voice was soft, filled with sincerity.

You lay there, breathless and sated, your body still humming with pleasure. "Y-yeah, m still here. Thank you."

"You did so good, such a well behaved girl. Check your phone for me, baby. Look what you did to me."

You froze for a moment, your mind struggling to process exactly what you were looking at. And then it registered—the smooth skin of his stomach, the slight curve of his hip. A moment later, you saw it; his cock, flushed pink tip, half-hard and resting against his stomach. A small pool of cum rested near his belly button.. You flushed all over at the thought, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the photo. There was something so undeniably intimate about the image; something that spoke to the fact that he'd been pleasuring himself while thinking of you.

With a final, breathless goodbye, you end the call. Your heart is still racing, your body tingling with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure. His voice still echoes in your ears, warm and commanding, and the weight of his presence seems to fill the room even though he's no longer on the line. You lean back against the soft cushions on your bed, eyes fluttering closed, letting the soft glow of the lamp wash over you.

You let out a slow exhale, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with the buzz still pulsing beneath your skin. There’s something thrilling, intoxicating about the way he’s able to draw you out, make you vulnerable and yet so sure of yourself all at once. But the moment feels almost too surreal, too indulgent, and you try to calm your racing thoughts when a ping breaks through the haze of your afterglow.

You glance down at your phone, blinking at the notification that has just popped up.

$500 has been deposited into your account.

-for my pretty girl

Your breath catches in your throat as your fingers instinctively swipe open the message. You freeze, your eyes scanning the details with a quickness that betrays your curiosity.

"Doctor Reid," it reads, alongside the substantial amount.

For a moment, time seems to stop, your gaze fixed on the screen as your pulse quickens once more. The money sits there, cool and impersonal, yet its presence is anything but. It’s a gesture—one that feels undeniably generous, but also loaded with unspoken meaning. This isn’t just a transaction. This is him, and everything that came with the promise of his control, his attention, his care.

You’ve known that he was willing to give, but this—this feels different. The amount is so much more than what you’d expected. What did he mean by it? What does he expect now?

You glance at the digits one more time, the weight of his name anchoring the moment. It feels strange to see it. So he was a doctor.

A tight knot forms in your chest, mixing nerves with something else—something like desire, maybe even gratitude. You bite your lip, unsure how to feel. It was just a phone call, just a moment of shared vulnerability between you. Yet the fact that he’s followed through with this kind of gesture makes everything feel so much more real, so much more complicated.

With a heavy sigh, you set your phone down and run your fingers through your hair, your mind racing as you try to reconcile the thrill of the moment with the heavy responsibility that now feels like it’s creeping in.

At least now you had his name, Doctor Reid.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#missarchive #spencer reid x reader #bau x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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luminni · 3 days ago

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Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.”

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected 10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

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melminli · 2 days ago

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Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that since I don't even have anything against working a bit of overtime when it comes to this.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

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sthilarions · 3 days ago

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Charles almost gets killed by a torture hex. Pain is the most effective way to kill a ghost, and Charles is so so strong but not built for suffering like Edwin is, and Charles is already fading when Edwin finally finds the right counter-spell and drags him back to solidity.

Two days later, Charles gets almost torn in half by a giant monster, and Edwin knits him back together with giggling ringing in his ears and green light at the corners of his vision. Edwin’s hands dig into Charles’s wounds and pull Charles back together with a combination of magic and sheer force of will and every twitch of Edwin’s fingers drags tortured sounds out of Charles’s mouth, and it’s right about when Edwin pulls the last bit of skin together and Charles screams that Edwin thinks please, God, Despair, Death, whoever is there, whoever cares, let me take his pain, I’d take all of his pain to never have him hurt again.

It’s another day after that, when he’s reading through a book of healing spells to find a way to make sure this never happens again, that he gets an idea.

It’s another week, full of research and muttering and scribbled runes, before he comes to Charles with what is, as far as Charles knows, a pretty standard request. “I’ve found another protection spell for you. Stand there - to your left a little - good. It can’t stop you from getting injured, but it will take most or all of the pain of the injuries.”

“Oh, wow, that’s brills, mate! I could fight way better like that. I mean, pain is almost all ghost injuries are, anyway, yeah? That’s amazing!”

Edwin casts the spell, handwritten across several sheets of paper, and the glow as it sets in to Charles’s skin blanks out his vision long enough that he doesn’t see Edwin’s skin flush golden, too.

Edwin declines Charles’s suggestion to test the spell outside of combat, so Charles is still a little unsure for the first fight, but when he gets slashed with a cat-claw blade and feels absolutely nothing, he looks down at himself, grins almost maniacally, and wades back into the fight like he’s unstoppable.

He does seem to be, in fact. He fights like Superman, all but invulnerable, and Edwin says his combat efficiency has increased over 30 percent. He throws himself at monsters and ghosts and demons and takes them down with barely a twinge, no matter how hard they hit.

Edwin’s taken to standing further back than he used to in fights, which Charles figures is because the fights are getting into melee more than they used to.

They’re fighting some bastard with a hellwhip, all fire and iron barbs, when the first thing goes wrong. Charles gets hit, and he feels the twinge that’s all he gets from the worst hits now, but through the twinge he hears Edwin gasp.

He turns to Edwin and the whip hits him square in the back as he turns, and Edwin lets out a strangled groan.

Edwin seems to realize Charles is too distracted to do his job, because he dispatches the whippy bastard with a spell, and Charles is to him in a moment. But Edwin snaps and brushes him off and demands to tend to Charles’s injuries, because not hurting doesn’t mean they can’t be dangerous. As he tends to the wounds, Edwin’s breath keeps hitching, and Charles can’t get him to say why.

A week later and Charles gets hit with that same damn torture hex, because apparently they didn’t do a good enough job of defeating that wizard the first time. And he thinks for a second that this might be what finally breaks through Edwin’s protection spell, but it’s still only a twinge, albeit the harshest one yet - but Edwin lets out a suffocated yelp from behind him.

Charles starts to turn, and the wizard looks frustrated, and throws the hex at Charles again. And Edwin goes down to his knees.

And the wizard hexes Charles again, and Edwin curls forward, his breath in quiet pants that for a second are the focus of Charles’s entire world.

Charles puts some things together very, very quickly, and then before the wizard can try another spell, his head’s rolling on the floor.

—

Edwin has never seen Charles this angry at anyone, not in the thirty-one years they’ve been together. He had never imagined that Charles could possibly be this angry at him.

—

Charles screams at Edwin for hours, tears dripping down his face and vanishing before they hit his chest.

He pauses every hour or so and demands Edwin take off the fucking “protection spell” right fucking now, and every time Edwin refuses, and Charles starts yelling again.

Normally crying makes Charles’s throat hurt, one of the few bits of quotidian pain that stuck with him to ghost-hood. He doesn’t notice that it isn’t hurting now until a bit after sunrise, when Edwin refuses again, and Charles notices his voice is hoarse and tight.

Charles stops.

He turns away.

“No more cases, Edwin.”

“What?”

“I am not working on any cases, I am not doing anything that could put either of us in danger, until this spell is off.”

“You can’t - “

“I’ll see you later, Edwin.”

Charles walks out of the office, and Edwin stands staring after him.

—

It takes a month. A month of Charles spending time out of the office, and chilly silences, and Edwin trying to make arguments for his position and only getting a few words in before Charles is out the door.

Charles gets back, one day, to see Edwin sitting on the floor of the closet, holding a box of Cluedo in his lap, which they haven’t used since Charles found out.

“I’ll take it off.” Edwin’s looking down at the box, refusing to meet Charles’s eyes. Charles nods.

It doesn’t take very long for Edwin to work the counter-spell, and Charles immediately tests it, grabs for the first magical weapon in his bag and presses it against his hand. It hurts, and he presses harder until there’s a drop of blood and it’s accompanied by just as much sharp sting as it should be.

Edwin doesn’t say anything about Charles believing Edwin might be tricking him, because Charles isn’t wrong to, because he had, before. And if Charles doesn’t trust him anymore, that’s his right.

Charles sighs, looking down at his hand, then looks up at Edwin. “If you ever break my trust like that again, I’ll - “ he breaks off and looks back down. He sighs again.

“I won’t do anything. I’ll forgive you, because I’ll always forgive you, Edwin. But - please, please, please never do anything like that again, I can’t take it.”

Charles is crying, and his throat hurts.

Edwin’s voice is hoarse too, as he promises, never, never again.

And Edwin’s far too far away, Charles thinks. He has been for the last month. For longer, pulling far away during fights and after them - but it��s best not to think about that. With his mind resolutely on the present, Charles steps over the space between them and pulls Edwin into his arms.

“Let’s play some Cluedo, yeah?”

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #mine

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burnforyou · 17 hours ago

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PLEASEEE can we have sweet luigi bc weve had so much of him being like a dick LMAO i feel like kinda sweet geeky lu would be so cute

i know!!! i just know he is the sweetest boyfriend ever…

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who got nervous when you approached him with a question during office hours, even though he’s a TA and gets questions from so many other people.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who would bring you flowers before every date. from little, sweet wildflowers he pulled over on the side of the road to pick, to beautiful magnolia bouquets he ordered from a florist. one date he brought you lego flowers and you two had a lego date night.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who knows he is inexperienced in dating, but doesn’t want you to know, so he googles “how to kiss a girl” in a private browser.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who didn’t know he pouts his lips everytime he’s deep in thought until you point it out and start pressing little kisses on his lips when he pouts.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who just stares at you when you cuddle for the first time, not really sure how to hold you.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who asks his sisters for advice. they tease him about having his first ever girlfriend.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU whose love language is acts of service, so he offers to do all your maths and science homework. you feel guilty every time, but you really need the extra help, so you agree to let him do it.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU whose love language is acts of service, so he’ll take off your heels after a date night and carry you back to your house.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who never mansplains to you. he’s very aware of not being an asshole when he’s explaining something to you.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who’s kinda ashamed of how nerdy he really is because he doesn’t want you to think he’s really weird.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who wants to tell you he loves you very early on because he genuinely feels like he wants to be with you forever and doesn’t know what love bombing is.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who’s still a little shy around your friends, but he tries really hard to be funny around them and you think it’s so cute 😭😭😭😭.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who falls asleep everytime you two are just laying around and hanging out at your houses. especially if he’s at your place, there’s something that’s so relaxing to him about your house and the smell of it. he considers you his comfort place, somewhere where he can let go of all his stress and pain and just lay in your arms.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who asks you to go to his frat’s halloween party with a matching costume, luigi and princess daisy <3

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who’s confused when you sigh when he puts on the fuck ass bali shirt.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who purchased an old camera at a thrift store and became obsessed with capturing you through his eyes.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who really wants to introduce you to his family.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who doesn’t get mad when he’s jealous, he just gets sad. but when his asshole cousin flirts with you at his family function, that changes.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who whimpers when you two are intimate.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who sends you songs and says they remind him of you.

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who stalked your spotify playlists and then started incorporating your favorite songs and artists into his playlists. he’d purposely play the playlist he made that was mixed with yours and his favorite songs so you’d gasp everytime your songs played. “i didn’t know you knew this song!”

SWEET BOYFRIEND!LU who usually never let anyone touch his curls because his sisters used to mess with them when he was growing up. until you came around. then your fingers are almost always twirled around his little curls. he starts growing his hair out more when you tell him how much you love it.

#why am i crying #luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic #my works #asks #luigi mangione headcanons #headcanons #boyfriend!luigi

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redroomreflections · 3 days ago

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Her Best Secret

1950s Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and R are having an affair.

Note: I wrote this after watching Mother's Instinct with Anne Hathway and Jessica Chastain. I needed to make it gay. I don't know what this is truly but it's here.

Warnings: Smut and fluff kind off.

Picket fences. Two-and-a-half children. A dog in the yard. A steady job. A house on a quiet street. Nuclear family. Marriage. College. This was what life was about. The checklist of happiness, painted in bright colors and polished to perfection, like the chrome trim on the cars Sam sold so well.

Tonight, it all seemed true. The music drifted out from the open windows of Steve and Natasha’s house, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass and neighbors' laughter on the patio. The neighborhood had turned out to celebrate Sam’s big promotion—another shiny star on the life everyone was striving for. You stood by the punch bowl, watching as Natasha twirled beneath Steve’s hand in the center of the makeshift dance floor. Her laughter was light and infectious, her cheeks flushed in a way that made her even more stunning under the string lights. She looked happy—effortlessly so.

Your gaze lingered a moment too long before you turned away, your hand brushing absently over the fabric of your dress. Sam was recounting the story of his big sale to an eager group of neighbors somewhere nearby. You could hear his voice rise and fall, full of charisma and charm, the same traits that had swept you off your feet all those years ago.

"Mama, come dance with us," Claire demanded as she tugged on your hand. Your daughter was the perfect mix of the two of you, and she never ceased to make your heart swell. You smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of her face and taking in her toothy grin.

“In a minute,” you promised, swirling the punch in your glass. “Let me finish this.”

“Okay,” Claire shrugged, already distracted. She launched into her version of the jitterbug as “Why Do Fools Fall In Love” spun on the record player. Her tiny feet shuffled wildly, arms flailing with abandon. It wasn’t quite the jitterbug but hers, and she owned it.

You smiled, watching her. The song brought back memories of Sam. You could almost feel the warmth of his hands around your waist, guiding you through the steps, the two of you laughing and stumbling over each other in the middle of your living room. A good memory.

“It’s a great party, right?” came a voice behind you.

You turned to see Sarah Wilson, her warm smile disarming as always. She was one of those rare people who could make anyone feel at home. Your sister-in-law had been a steady presence in your life, offering unsolicited advice and unwavering support.

“Oh, of course,” you nodded, eyes flicking between Claire’s eclectic moves and Natasha and Steve, who were swaying comfortably in the center of the dance floor. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Sarah chuckled, nodding toward the dance floor. “I didn’t think Natasha would ever get Steve out there. That man’s all business. But look at them now.”

You smiled into your glass, forcing a little laugh. “They seem like they’re enjoying themselves.”

“Speaking of enjoying,” Sarah said, her tone shifting as her gaze landed on Claire. “Your little one’s a great dancer. She’s got rhythm for sure.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a touch of pride.

“Have you two thought about giving her another playmate?” Sarah’s voice was casual, but her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

The question was unexpected, and you took a step back. It was a fair question. Most couples with kids would have more than one. You had known that since the day Claire was born. But the thought of having another child—with Sam, of all people—made your stomach churn.

Sarah was waiting, and you knew her well enough to know that she would keep pressing until you answered.

"Oh, well,” you began, fumbling for an answer, “I’ve been thinking about returning to work. It’s just not the right time for us.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Work, huh? Well, I’m sure Sam has his own thoughts about that.”

Before you could respond, Sam appeared beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his easy grin softening the tension in your chest.

“Oh, nothing,” Sarah said lightly, though her tone betrayed her nosiness. “We were just talking about Claire’s dancing—and whether she might get a little brother or sister someday.”

Sam glanced at you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Is that so?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you shrugged helplessly.

“She said she’s thinking about returning to work,” Sarah added, her teasing smile turning to him.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, Sarah. Leave her alone. She’s got enough on her plate without you playing matchmaker for the kids. If you'll excuse me, I want to dance with my wife."

Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother. Then, with a quick wink to you, she said, "Okay, okay, I can take a hint. But don't go too far. We're doing the fireworks after dinner and need help setting up all the chairs."

Sam took your hand and pulled you out onto the dancefloor, ignoring his sister, twirling you playfully before pulling you close. His eyes shone, and you wondered how much he had had to drink. It didn’t matter. You needed this right now; you needed to feel the warmth of his skin against yours and a distraction from seeing her with him.

"I didn't know you were thinking about returning to work," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"It's been on my mind, yes," You nodded.

"I thought we agreed you didn't need to," He tilted his head slightly. "You'd be leaving Claire with a babysitter or at daycare. We can afford to take care of her ourselves."

"I know, but..." You trailed off.

He grinned down at you, his frown barely noticeable as he leaned closer. “But what?”

You laughed softly, letting him spin you again, your hesitation hidden behind the dance. “I just… I like the idea of doing something for myself again, you know?”

Sam pulled you close, his hand firm at the small of your back. His grin widened, his tone teasing. “You mean besides raising the most beautiful kid in the neighborhood?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his charm. “Exactly,” you quipped, tapping his chest lightly. He pulled you tighter to him.

"I know it's what you want," He whispered. "But you look so beautiful when you're pregnant."

You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous, Sam."

"I'm just being honest," He said, his tone light and playful.

"You're drunk, and I'm tired." You tried to pull away, but he held fast, his hands firm on your hips.

"You know you want to," he teased, his breath hot on your ear. Finally, he sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You muttered, closing your eyes as his lips brushed your temple. When he moved to kiss your lips, you didn't pull away. You loved Sam. You really did. You always had.

And yet...

"Okay, lovebirds,” came Natasha’s voice, cutting through the music with playful ease. “Sam, let me take her away. It’s my turn to dance.” She said it with a teasing grin, the kind that made her so easy to like. Natasha, your closest friend, was a familiar presence, one the neighborhood never found threatening.

Sam chuckled, loosening his hold on your waist. “Fine, but don’t wear her out,” he replied with mock seriousness. "I need her tonight."

You pulled away and offered him a polite smile, careful not to meet his gaze.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam exchanging a glance with Steve. The two men shrugged, their silent communication as effortless as their friendship. They knew nothing could come between the two of you.

“You alright?” Natasha asked softly, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied.

She smiled, her lips curving into that mischievous way of hers, her eyes sparkling like she already knew the truth. “Good. Let’s go find some real fun.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed your arm gently but insistently, steering you off the dance floor and down toward the basement. She fumbled for the light control before pulling the string.

“What are we doing down here?” you asked, a small laugh escaping as she guided you to the landing. "I'm going to twist my ankle."

Natasha continued. “Sometimes a girl needs to breathe,” she said lightly, though there was an undercurrent to her words. "And Steve keeps the good beers down here."

"Well, thank God for Steve," you laughed.

"Amen," Natasha nodded as she rumbled through the deep freeze. "Ah, we only have one."

"We can share it," You shrugged. "We have the best stories, and I think we've earned it."

"Cheers," Natasha said as she raised the can and pulled the tab to open it. She wasn't anticipating the rush of foam that exploded from the top, so she stepped back in horror. Droplets landed on the floor and her dress.

"Oh no," You groaned.

"Shit," She muttered, trying to brush the beer off her front.

"Oh, no. Natasha, I'm so sorry. Come here," You reached for the paper towels on the table and tried to wipe off the beer. "I think I made it worse."

"Yeah, me too," Natasha muttered, frowning as she dabbed at the wet stain. "God, I can't believe this. This is the worst."

You sighed, trying not to laugh. "It's not that bad. Just tell people it's a design feature. Or... or pretend it's a bloodstain. Tell people you got a little violent."

Natasha's laughter bubbled up, and she gave you a playful shove. "Don't joke like that! My blood is supposed to stay on the inside, thank you very much. Also, it's clear, and blood is red."

You chuckled, reaching for the can. "Here, give me some of that."

Natasha relented and watched as you sipped from the can. Her eyes never seemed to leave you.

"So...how's Sam?"

"He's...good."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's it?"

You shrugged. "What do you want me to say? He's...good. Things are good."

"Mmm," she hummed, tilting her head slightly.

"What?" you asked, your voice coming out more defensively than you intended.

"What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing. It was nothing. Just...work. Stuff. Things. Nothing important."

Natasha pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

You sighed, trying not to fidget under her stare. "He wants another baby."

Natasha blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "I mean, I love Claire, and I don't know if we're ready for another baby. And..." You trailed off.

"And?"

"It's just...hard," you admitted quietly. "He's so attentive when I'm pregnant, and I get to spend a lot of time with him, and then when the baby comes, he gets so busy. It's just...hard. And sometimes, I think maybe it would be better if we didn't have any more kids."

"You don't want Claire to have a sibling?" She probed. "Are you guys being careful?"

"By careful, do you mean not letting him finish inside me?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then yes," you confirmed, nodding. "Do you really want to hear the ways Sam and I are practicing safe sex?"

Natasha laughed, the sound soft and low, a private melody just for you. “No, no, I don’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly. She would rather you not sleep with him at all. She sighed, the corners of her mouth tugging downward, then licked her lips—a slow, deliberate motion that drew your attention, as it always did. That shade of red was your favorite on her, and she knew it.

Her green eyes met yours, steady and probing. “Are you happy?”

The question hit you like a stray gust of wind, sudden and disarming.

“Of course,” you replied, the words tumbling out too fast, too practiced. “Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Natasha raised a single, elegant eyebrow, the expression laced with skepticism. “Because I can tell when you’re lying,” she said plainly, her tone cutting through your defenses like a knife through butter.

Your shoulders slumped slightly as you leaned against the countertop. The calm surface grounded you, though it couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions rising in your chest. “It’s just hard sometimes,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

Her gaze softened, the sharp edges of her wit giving way to something warmer, something more tender. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured.

She set down the beer can she’d been holding, the metallic clink almost imperceptible under the weight of her words. Her fingers drummed on the countertop; the rhythm was uneven, nearly hesitant, as if her thoughts were tangled in the silence between you. The crimson polish on her nails caught the dim light, matching the glow in her eyes as she studied you.

“Sometimes,” she began, her voice barely audible, “I think we forget we’re allowed to want more.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the implication hanging like unspoken truths. You glanced back toward the stairs, where laughter and music blasted above you, but it felt a world away from this moment.

“And what if we can’t have more?” you asked, your voice trembling just enough to betray the depth of the question.

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Then maybe we take what we can get,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. Before you could respond, Natasha's lips were on yours. Soft. Warm. Inviting. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

A quiet moan escaped her, muffled against your mouth, and you could taste the sweetness of the beer lingering on her tongue. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the warmth of her touch, in the familiar scent of her perfume. Your mind raced, and yet your thoughts were perfectly still. Her body was so different. Her touch was so different.

A loud thump, followed by the unmistakable sound of laughter, cut through the air. Then a cry and a scream of "Mama" followed. Natasha pulled away quickly, her face flushed, her breathing uneven. You glanced at the ceiling, the spell between you broken. That was the cry of your child.

"I should probably go and check on her," You said while Natasha spoke.

"We should probably get back," Natasha murmured.

You nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Wiping your mouth, you glanced back at her before heading upstairs.

*****

You could smell the firecrackers before you saw them, the sharp scent of smoke mingling with the sweet smell of hamburgers grilling. Claire sat in your lap, the three-year-old tired and sleepy from all the excitement. You couldn't blame her after the day chasing the other kids around the house.

Claire leaned her head against your chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. You rubbed her back absently, smiling at how her small hand curled around yours.

The sky was dark, but the backyard was lit by the string lights draped over the trees and the fireworks in the sky. You were amazed at how she could sleep through this. Sam sat next to you in the grass, his arms wrapped around your waist and his hands rubbing your side. He felt at home.

Briefly, you could see a flash of the light catching across a couple, and your eyes moved towards them. It was Natasha and Steve. He stood almost a foot taller than her, his arms wrapped around her midsection as she leaned back into his chest. They looked comfortable like they belonged together. How their bodies seemed to mold into each other was the kind of thing romance novels talked about.

They were so beautiful together.

The thought made you uneasy.

Sam leaned over and whispered in your ear, his breath warm on your skin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you murmured, leaning into him. "Just a bit tired. She's a heavy sleeper."

He chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"You know, it's our anniversary tomorrow," He said, his tone casual, but the meaning behind his words clear.

"Oh," you said, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

"Yeah, five years," he smiled.

"Wow, I can't believe it's been that long," you admitted.

"Me neither," he grinned, kissing your lips softly. You couldn't see Natasha's eyes on the two of you.

Sam looked up and noticed the fireworks lighting the sky. He nudged Claire and whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. You're going to miss the fireworks."

Claire lifted her head, blinking blearily. "No, Daddy. I'm sleepy," she whined.

"Come on, pumpkin. Let's watch the show," Sam coaxed, his voice gentle and coaxing. Claire groaned softly but let Sam lift her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Alright, pumpkin,” he said with a chuckle, “just for a little while.”

You watched them walk toward the edge of the patio, where the first bursts of fireworks lit up the night sky. Claire’s sleepy eyes reflected the vibrant colors as she yawned against her daddy's chest.

Five years. It was a long time. You'd built a life together. One you were proud of. One you were comfortable with.

Your eyes drifted to the couple again, and your chest tightened. Natasha and Steve looked so natural together. So at ease. And then there was you, feeling like an imposter. You weren’t the girl Sam fell in love with anymore. You weren't the one who wanted all the same things he did. And you couldn't tell him. You couldn't shatter his image of you.

Sam whispered something into Claire's ear, lifting her head to look at you.

"Mama, come watch."

"In a minute, baby," you called, your voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears. How could you be so selfish? Sam had given you everything. He had given you Claire. You were blessed, yet you couldn't seem content with what you had.

Natasha echoed in your mind: Sometimes we forget we're allowed to want more.

*************

Tuesdays were sacred. At exactly 12:30, without fail, Natasha would appear at your front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she walked the three doors down. By the time the clock struck the half-hour, you would already have the kettle whistling on the stove and the good china laid out.

It started as a casual thing—a neighborly gesture during those quiet, lonesome afternoons when the house felt too big and Sam was at work. But over time, it became something more. A ritual. A promise.

This Tuesday was no different. You were finishing the vacuuming when you heard Claire shriek with laughter from the living room. You smiled to yourself, knowing what that meant.

You rounded the corner, the vacuum still humming, and saw Claire spinning in circles as Natasha crouched down to her level, a broad smile on her perfectly painted red lips.

“She’s getting good at this,” Natasha teased, catching Claire mid-spin and lifting her off the ground.

“Too good,” you replied, switching off the vacuum and leaning against the doorway. “She’s going to join the circus at this rate.”

Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her gaze traveled to the hallway and the bags of groceries waiting by the front door.

"Let me help," She said, setting Claire back on the floor.

"Thanks," you murmured, grabbing the nearest bag. "I don't know why I let Sam talk me into doing this today."

"Probably the same reason I let Steve convince me to get the new patio furniture," Natasha chuckled, following you into the kitchen.

"He can be persuasive, can't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he can," She agreed, her tone wistful.

"It's not a bad thing," You said, placing the bags on the counter.

"Tasha, come play," Claire begged.

"In a minute, little one," Natasha promised. Claire nodded and rushed back into the den with her toys.

"How about some tea?" You offered.

"You read my mind," Natasha smiled.

You took the teapot from the cupboard and filled it with water, watching as the steam rose from the spout. Your thoughts drifted back to that night in the basement, and you wondered if Natasha felt the same. There had been many nights like that. Many shared kisses. Shared looks. You think back to that night months again when you'd given her her first orgasm at the hands of a woman.

It was a moment that changed things. It was the moment you knew you were done pretending.

"I'm glad we have this," Natasha murmured.

"Tea?"

"No, silly. Time." She turned to look at you, her green eyes softening. "I'm glad we have this. This friendship."

You couldn't help but smile. "Me, too."

"So," Natasha said, leaning against the counter and folding her arms over her chest, "how are things going with you and Sam?"

You shrugged. "Good."

"That's all you're going to give me?" She prodded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"There's not much to tell," you admitted.

"You guys had an anniversary a few nights ago," Natasha reminded you.

"Do we discuss the juicy details like that still?"

Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but I'm asking because I care about you, and I know Sam has been a bit persistent about the baby thing."

You sighed, turning back to the stove. You were silent.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's fine," you assured her. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, it's just me," Natasha reminded you gently, reaching out to touch your arm. "You can tell me anything."

You hesitated, then blurted out, "What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "What are we doing? Is this just a...thing?"

Natasha blinked, her expression unreadable. "A thing?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, an escape or something," you tried to explain. "Like, a distraction."

Natasha shook her head slowly. "No, no, I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"I'd say that I enjoy spending time with you. I'd say that you're a beautiful, smart, funny woman, and I'm lucky to call you a friend."

"But what does that mean?"

Natasha stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to the small of your back. Her gaze never left yours, her eyes searching for an answer to a question she couldn't quite voice.

"It means that I care about you," she said softly. "And if you ever need a distraction, I'm here."

"What if I don't want a distraction?" You breathed.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't answer. Instead, you pulled her across the kitchen to the laundry room. You left the door open to hear Claire in case she needed you. In an instant, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, kissing her like it was the last time.

She kissed you back, her hands resting on your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Her tongue parted your lips, and you tasted the sweetness of her breath. Her hands moved lower, sliding over your curves, and you moaned softly against her mouth.

"Tasha," You gasped as her fingers traced the waistband of your jeans, her touch burning hot against your skin.

She broke the kiss, her eyes dark and hooded. "Yes?"

"I want you."

"I'm yours."

Her lips crashed against yours, and her hands fumbled with the button of your jeans, her touch making your skin tingle.

"Tasha, we can't Claire's here." You reminded her between kisses.

"She's playing," Natasha muttered, her fingers finally popping the button. Before either of you could ponder her statement, the front door opened. In a flash, Natasha was in the kitchen, pushing the rest of the groceries into the fridge as you attempted to gather your bearings. She was so fast.

"Hello?" Sam's voice called from the foyer.

"We're in the kitchen," You answered, closing the laundry room door and ensuring it was locked.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie loosened. "Hey," he smiled. "I thought I'd surprise you guys."

"Well, it worked," Natasha laughed.

"Sorry, I forgot my lunch. I'll grab it and head out," Sam said, moving past the two of you. He glanced between you, his gaze lingering on your face.

"I'm going to finish the dishes," You murmured, turning away.

Sam stopped and frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just feeling a little tired."

"You should rest," Sam stepped closer to you. "Have a cup of tea?

"I will."

"Good," Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too," You said, the words coming out automatically. Sam lingered, landing another sweet kiss on your lips.

Natasha looked over her shoulder at you, her expression unreadable. "Sam, before you go, can I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can I borrow a screwdriver? We're working on the deck chairs, and one of the bolts keeps slipping," She explained, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Sure, no problem," Sam said, digging through a drawer. He pulled out a screwdriver and handed it to Natasha. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Natasha smiled. "Oh, and before I forget, I'll have those pictures of Claire for you next week."

"Thanks," Sam replied. "And thanks for keeping them company."

"My pleasure," Natasha grinned.

"Okay, I'm heading back out. See you later, baby," Sam kissed you once more before disappearing into the foyer. The front door opened, then shut, leaving the house strangely empty.

"That was close," Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Yeah, it was," you agreed. "But it was worth it."

"Do you regret it?"

"No," you said without hesitation.

"Me neither," She murmured, stepping closer.

You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. "Tasha?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there. For being my friend. For just being...you."

Natasha hugged you, her arms wrapping around your waist and her chin resting on your head. "Anytime," she said softly, and you knew she meant it.

*****

Drive-In Night was interesting. It's a couple's night, truly. The four of you would get together and watch whatever movie was playing. This time, it was How to Marry A Millionaire. You all piled into Steve’s car, a vintage Chevy that seemed as timeless as its owner. It was a tight fit, but no one complained. The air buzzed with the crowd's excitement as headlights flickered across the makeshift parking lot of the drive-in theater.

Natasha sat into the passenger seat, leaning her elbow out the window, her eyes scanning the packed lot with a subtle smirk. “I’m impressed, Rogers. Didn’t think you’d show up for something so… pink.”

Steve laughed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What can I say? I’m broadening my horizons.”

From the backseat, you chuckled. “You mean Natasha dragged you here, didn’t she?”

“Guilty,” Steve admitted, glancing sideways at Natasha, who simply shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like Sam and I had a choice.”

Sam, beside you, snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Real gentlemen, right?” He stretched his arm along the back of the seat, pulling you closer. “But hey, don’t think I’m above enjoying a rom-com. I’ve got range.”

Natasha tilted her head back, laughing. “Sure, Wilson. You’ll be crying by the second act.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sam fired back, grinning.

You rolled your eyes fondly. They constantly bickered like this, but it was good-natured. You could tell they were friends. Real friends.

The movie began, and the warm glow of the screen washed over the car. The plot unfolded with charm, full of meet-cutes, sassy best friends, and conveniently timed rainstorms. It wasn’t bad, but you couldn’t help but notice Sam shifting every so often, clearly restless.

“Alright,” Sam announced midway through a particularly swoony montage. “Steve, snacks?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, who was far too engrossed in the movie to notice him leaving. “Yeah, good idea. You girls want anything?”

You and Natasha exchanged a look. “Popcorn,” you both said in unison.

Sam and Steve left the car, their silhouettes fading into the crowd as they made their way to the concession stand. Moving closer to the front seat, you shifted and settled comfortably against the backrest.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

You smiled back.

The moment passed.

"You're so far away," You whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. "Come closer," She whispered. You climbed into the front seat, quickly glancing at the long concession line.

"Is this better?" You asked, settling in.

"Much," she said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You're cute," She said. What she was doing was risky business. While it was dark, anyone with eyes and the guts to look your way could see.

"So are you," You responded.

"I want to kiss you."

"You do?"

"I do."

"I want to fuck you," She said.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the heat between your thighs growing with each passing second. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You leaned in. Her hand rested on your thigh, rubbing you through your skirt. "Tasha," you whimpered.

"Yes, kitten," she whispered.

"We can't"

"Why not?"

"It's too risky."

"No one's looking."

"What about Sam and Steve?"

"They're at the concession stand. And the movie is loud."

"But what if someone hears?"

"We'll be quiet."

"We've never been quiet," You giggled.

"We'll try," she whispered. She knew she didn't have much time. She needed this to happen and fast. Her hand slipped under your skirt, and she felt the dampness of your panties.

"Jesus, you're soaked."

"I can't help it."

"Neither can I."

She slid her hand down, pushed your panties aside, and plunged her fingers inside you. Your hips bucked, and you bit back a moan.

"So tight," She moaned.

"So good," You whimpered. She was an expert by now. She knew your body well and learned how to make you cum.

She fucked you hard and fast, her fingers hitting all the right spots. She was gentle while somehow being able to get you there so quickly. You couldn't moan or tell her how close you were. You couldn't even thrust into her fingers. You could only sit there and take it. Your face remained natural even as you closed your eyes. The pleasure was too intense, and you wanted to focus on it. You wanted to savor every second.

When you came, you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Natasha watched you come undone under her hand.

"You are perfect," She whispered, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You were a trembling mess.

"Tasha," You breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"I can't wait to do that again," She said.

"Me too."

She kissed your cheek once more before sitting back.

You were her best secret.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you

312 notes · View notes

dalgona-crumbs · 2 days ago

Text

✧˖°𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻-𝗷𝘂 (player 120) 𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝗵𝗰𝘀｡

𝘴𝘧𝘸

- Loves when you play with her hair! Pleeeease run your hands through her soft hair, its intimate and validating for Hyun-ju.

- Isn't a fan of PDA, but will totally hold your hand in public. This isn't against you at all! I can see Hyun-ju still a bit self conscious with her image, but still craving that traditional "couples activities." Imagine her walking arm in arm with you, feeling confident in not only her being, but her love for you.

- Hyun-ju wants to be the small spoon sometimes! We all know she's a protective type. She's always making you feel safe and sound, but like everyone else... she needs to be protected at times.

"Eh? You want me to.." Hyun-ju gulps. The two of you are in bed after a long day. Lights off, pajamas on. This was about the time you'd settle in her arms for the night, claiming your safe haven. Tonight however, you asked if your girlfriend wanted to be the small spoon for a change. Her eyes widened, a light rose hue delighting her face.

"Mmmhmm." You explain your plan and she enthusiastically nods. It's almost too cute! She rolls over her side, laying back facing you. Hyun-ju places her hands together nervously, one palm holding the other's fingers. She lays in wait, anticipating your familiar touch.

You scooch up to your lover, wrapping her in a tender embrace. The front of your much smaller body pressed against her taller figure, it was heaven. You place your head behind Hyun-ju's neck, placing a chaste kiss.

"Everything alright? We can switch back if yo-" You're suddenly interrupted by a quiet giggle. You can't see it from this position, but your girlfriend is smiling from ear to ear.

(Spice under the cut.)

N𝘴𝘧𝘸

- Gentle top!!! Service dom!!! Come on y'all. I feel like she would want to make her partner feel good. Her caring and determined nature shows up in the bedroom too.

- Size difference. She is TALL. Ugh, love me a tall woman. Knows you like it too and uses it to tease you. One particular night, she slipped on a silken bodycon dress and some heels. This would never see the light of day, not yet at least. (I can see Hyun-ju having multiple dresses and heels she tries on at home, but not in public yet.)

The way the dress clung to her breasts, the style that shows off her muscular arms.. you felt feint. Not to mention how she towered over you even more than usual with those heels. You gulped hard as she slowly approached you, pushing you down to the bed with one hand.

"You're a goddess.." A shaky breath escaped your lips as you eye Hyun-ju. Her hair tied up in a high ponytail, red lipstick on her plump lips. She looks at you from above with nothing but adoration. As she shrugs the straps off of her dress, you can't help but gawk as it falls to the floor.

You're breathing heavier than before. The dainty yet seductive way she steps out of the fabric pooling at her heels. You hear the click of the shoes as she kicks the discarded garment away.

Your lover, your world.. is standing before you in nothing but a necklace, lace lingerie, and those red heels. You gulp as her fingers undo the clasp of her bra. If you weren't so horny, you'd see a slight shake in her hands. Hyun-ju was more than happy to show off to you, but there was always a bit of anxiety hanging around.

As you meet her gaze, more than eager to start this night... she feels solid in her place with you.

#hey dhhdjdh did you like that or nahhh #player 120 x reader #Hyun-ju #hyun ju #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game player 120 #hyun ju x reader #hyun-ju x reader #squid game x you #squid game headcanons #squid game imagines #squid game #player 120

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astudyinimagination · 3 days ago

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You know what, don't just leave that there. Maybe, instead acting in deliberate bad faith, link the article: https://www.avclub.com/steven-moffat-condemns-ai

Heck, actually, I'm a bit miffed at the AV Club because the half of the subhead is not properly attributed. So I'm just gonna copy-paste the whole thing here because it's short. But before I do that, I'm going to say that, as an actual fangirl of Moffat, I forever have to contend with two things: 1. That he always does a lot of verbal vomit when he gives interviews. To be fair, I'm not sure that I would do that much better in his shoes. 2. That he has a certain sardonic wit that has always translated very poorly in written interviews, wherein writers almost never bother to try to convey his tone. He comes across much better when you can actually hear him speak, and in full context (something that's also rare in written interviews).

Full text of the article below (which includes a link to the origin of the interview, the Radio Times), with commentary from me:

Don’t worry, Whovians—it seems like the Doctor isn’t about to regenerate into a bastardized AI version of himself any time soon. Doctor Who writers Steven Moffat and Russell T Davies recently took on the topic of generative AI in a conversation with Radio Times, and while the former acknowledged that the technology is “fascinating,” he also derided it in the most “Doctor Who writer” verbiage possible. “My son explained it to me. He said, ‘Yes, it can do all these things. It might even get quite good at them. But it takes an immense amount of power to run AI.’ Whereas you can run a human being on sunlight and a vegetable patch,” Moffat said. [See, the first half of the subhead, or article subtitle, is Moffat's son speaking, but the subhead doesn't acknowledge that, which is extremely shoddy journalism on their part.] “Human beings are amazingly cheap, we’re knocking out human beings every day.” Definitely spoken like someone who spends his days writing about anything but. [Definitely spoken like someone with a very sardonic sense of humor, which apparently this writer can't grasp. By the way, the commentary in the article means that it's editorial rather than news, in case you were wondering.]

Still, Moffat does know his human patterns. “Unlike anything else in history, the more we use it, the less good it is,” he continued. “Because the more content that is out there produced by AI, the more it absorbs its own content, and eats its own tail.”

That’s a very astute—and upsetting—prediction, but Moffat and Davies aren’t all doom and gloom. After Davies got a quip in about how “television has run on those principals (absorbing its own content) for a very long time,” Moffat continued: “That’s true, but we occasionally have a new idea. I admit, it doesn’t happen very often, certainly not in my case, but occasionally I have a new idea. But [AI] will never have a new idea. That’s not what it does.”

Davies, for one, doesn’t think the two of them will be replaced any time soon. He’s also far more optimistic about the state of television than some recent reports suggest he maybe should be. The overall number of shows on the air may be steadily decreasing, but the showrunner thinks “the rate of new ideas on television is higher than we ever allow for.” “We always tend to think that things bumble along at a very average level, and the great outliers are here and there,” he continued. “And every month, or every two months—actually, every day, I could find you something brilliant on TV.” [I love his positivity here; it's very Doctorish.]

Hopefully, Doctor Who‘s upcoming Christmas special, titled “Joy To The World,” will be one of those brilliant things. The episode will feature Nicola Coughlan and see the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) check into a “time hotel” that allows him to visit every Christmas Day in history. You can watch that adventure on our present Christmas Day, even if you can’t travel back in time.

I’m just going to leave this here

#Steven Moffat #gen AI #RTD #there's nothing wrong with a writer not being your cup of tea #but there is something extraordinarily wrong with consistently viewing everything a writer says and does in the most bad faith possible #he's not Joss Whedon; he's not JK Rowling; heck he's not Neil Gaiman either #no skeletons have ever turned up in his closet and I truly don't think that any ever will #he's a grumpy Scot with a sardonic sense of humor

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thanosscross · 2 days ago

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My girl! - Choi Su-Bong/Thanos x reader - 2/?

Summary: After finishing the first game, you tackle two more before finally being allowed to go home, not before realizing Su-bong might be a little more than in love with you.

Warnings: Implied smut, making out, drug use, reader taking drugs, Thanos murdering someone

It was early, you weren't sure how early, but you knew it was early because the guards hadn't come in yet, nor had the lights been turned back on. You laid awake though, wondering if this was truly the right idea and choice, I mean, people were dying for fucks sake. You were interrupted by your thoughts by a familiar click from the other side of the room, Thanos's locket, of course he woke up early just to get high. As you sat up to get a better view, you noticed him on the steps in front of the large doors, holding the pill up in the air almost like he was examining it, huffing and deciding on what you were going to do next, you got up quietly but quickly making your way to him. Using your sleeves to try and rub the tiredness from your eyes, you could see Thanos smiling at you from his spot "There you are, beauty flower, even just waking up, you're still the prettiest one" He flirted, you rolled you eyes sitting down next to him, Thanos immediately wrapping his arm around you "Why you up this early, my girl?" He asked turning his full attention to you, You just shrugged leaning closer into his touch "Do you feel like..we should've picked to go home?.." You whispered, fidgeting with your shaky hands, ones that hadn't stopped since you got finished with the first game. "What? No! We're here to get that money, baby!" He shouted, you slapped your hand over his mouth in return 'shhing' him. "I just...I want to win the money..not go home empty handed..but I wanna make it home" You whispered, Su-bong noticed your breathing picking up it's pace, so he held you a little tighter "We'll make it home baby, we'll get you moved into my place..which is currently an apartment, but once we win, it'll be the biggest mansion you'll ever see" he smirked kissing the top of your head dramatically "I'm scared...su-bong" You whispered, trying to keep your voice stable, he sighed "Wanna try something?..I do it when I'm scared" He offered, popping his locket open "Su-bong" You warned, he had offered you drugs twice before, on your first music video shoot with him, and you declined, explaining you don't like feeling not in control of yourself and your own actions. "It's okay, we can...make it less..intense" He whispered looking at you through his lashes, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't hot as fuck right now. "How?" You asked, he had already tried the cut it in half trick, and you still weren't comfortable with it, you were just glad he respected that. You watched as he grabbed another pill, placing it under his tongue before offering his hand raising his eyebrows, cluelessly you went to grab it. He laughed "You're adorable" He smirked shaking his head before pulling you closer to him pressing his lips to yours "Just take it when you're ready" You were shocked at first, but his hand resting on the back of your head massaging it lightly quickly relaxed you, never would you have thought three years ago you'd be making out with Su-bong taking drugs aswell. You just cupped his cheek slightly parting your lips letting him slide the small pink pill into your mouth, he never pulled away though, making sure to explore your mouth before finally pulling away, delivering a loud confident disgusting lick to the side of your face. "Su-bong!" You gasped trying to wipe his saliva off of your cheek "wow. that was...absolutely fantastic, baby" He said catching his breath, smirking as the lights flicked on just in time to reveal your hot pink cheeks.

The next game you played was a six legged pentathlon, You had gotten separated from Su-bong and for a moment you felt fear wash over you that you might get stuck with somebody else "Hey..do you wanna team up?.." A girl asked softly, you turned around "O-oh uhm...y-yea yea" You shook your head nervously desperate to find your..friend? boyfriend? ex boss? "Can I join you guys?.." A younger man asked, you frowned, taking a minute to shake off the feeling that he looked alot like your brother. "Yes yes, but we have to find thanos, he's got purple hair" You rambled trying to jump over everybody to see him. "HEY!" You heard a loud voice shout before a body slammed into you "There you are, my girl!" Su-bong shouted excited that he found you finally "Who are they?" He asked gripping you tightly, you couldn't place it but there was something different in his eyes, and now that the game rules were being explained, you started to regret taking that pill from su-bong.

The entire time leading up to your turn you were desperately trying to cling to Thanos, but he was more concerned with Nam-gyu and doing more drugs, once he gave his friend one he turned to you, finally taking in your state "Hey" He whispered popping a pill under his tongue offering his hand up again, you just shook your head taking his hand and holding onto it, your hands still shaking so bad you shook su-bong's hands "I-I'm scared, Thanos" You whispered nervously trying not to let the others hear "I-I'm not really good at these games.." You whispered, his eyes softened for a moment "You're fine, it's fine, we've got this" He assured, shaking your hands slightly in his

Playing was even worse, because of your anxiety and panic, you spent a full minute messing up, then another minute spent trying to get Nam-Gyu and Su-Bong to stop trying to kill each other over Nam-Gyu calling you a dumb bitch for fucking up for the third time. Walking back into the main room you heard Su-Bong threaten Nam-Gyu for the third time in the last two minutes, you just walked back to your bed sitting down. "My girl" Su-young said as he approached you, his tone a lot more soft and gentle than usual "I meant it when I said nobody disrespects Thanos the Great's girls" He stated sitting down at the foot of your bed "You were going to get us all killed if it meant he died, su-bong" You whispered "I wanna go home" You whispered nervously, he just shook his head crawling up next to you, hovering over you, using his arms to trap you "Baby, we're so close to winning enough for us, come on, one more game" He whispered, he purposely pitched his voice lower and whinier than usual, letting his hips ghost over yours. You were flustered safe to say, you were in such a crowded public place, and he's just open about this.

"O-One more" You whispered before turning on your side, Su-Bong hissing for a moment as your hip made contact with his semi-hard on, he flopped onto his side next to you, pulling you close to him "That's my baby" He smirked whispering against your neck.

The next game you played was mingle, and you were worried, both Nam-Gyu and Su-Bong were higher than you've ever seen him, and you weren't sure if he'd ditch you if the number was lower than three, you kept your distance as he danced around, always somehow stopping with enough time to hold onto you to keep you from falling whenever the platform halted to a stop, everything was going so smoothly until the speaker called out two players, you froze waiting for Thanos to tell you that you needed to go find someone else, but instead the air was knocked out of you as someone barrelled into you dragging you away "NO!" You heard Su-Bong shout, right before the random player shut the door, you saw Su-Bong rushing over, something in his eyes that made your blood run cold with fear. The player shoved you down letting you fall onto your side with a gasp, he started to apologize whenever the door slammed against his head, Su-Bong deranged face appeared with a large smile "You're makin me really angry, man!" He screamed before kneeling down starting to choke the man "S-Su-Bong!" You shouted, he was about to fucking kill a man "Close the fucking door!" He screamed towards you, not taking his eyes off the man he was currently ripping the life away from, you rushed slamming the door curling up against it covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut.

You didn't speak again for the rest of the game, or the night, you've watched people die this entire time, but this was different. You held your breath whenever you felt Su-Bong climb in bed next to you, not knowing if you were next or not "Beauty flower" He whispered "You never ate" He whispered sliding half of his half eaten dinner they provided "Not hungry" You whispered pulling the blanket higher "Please" He pleaded, but you just stayed quiet "Y/n. Don't make me mad, senorita" He whispered lowly, not like before though, this time it struck your body with fear "S-Su-Bong you killed somebody.." You whispered, refusing to look at him "For you, baby, I did it for you, I'm fucking crazy for you, baby" He pleaded, you could tell just by his tone he was high "W-Will you ever end up hurting me?.." You asked nervously, trying to stay quiet, part of you regrets asking the question, and hoped he never heard you, but he turned you around without a choice "I would never hurt such a delicate flower like you, baby" He said, trying to prove his point further by very delicately placing his hands on your cheeks, you so desperately wanted to believe him and relax in his touch, but you were scared. "Y/n, I will never hurt you, and if I do? Kill me" He shrugged, you glared smacking him as hard as you could in the chest "Too fucking soon you dick" You scoffed trying to turn away but he just pulled you closer.

You stood waiting to vote, so far it had been twenty-three Xs and thirty-six Os, as your number was called, you glanced as Su-Bong, terrified of what was going to happen if you stayed any longer. You walked to the brightly colored buttons, pressing the bright red X, finally swapping your blue O over to a red X, looking back you saw Su-Bong give you a disappointed look, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you walked over to the respected area and waited. As you watched Thanos approach the same buttons you held your breath, it was alot closer together now, and it was just Thanos and three other people to determine if you went home or not. You let out a sob seeing him press the red X proudly before turning around "Thanos stays loyal to his girls!" He shouted before skipping over to find you, his demeanor falling whenever he saw your tears "What happened, baby?" he asked grabbing your arms gently "N-nothing it's just, I might actually get to go home" You cried, he smiled now knowing he was the reason for your happy tears, pulling you into a hug he made a point to stare down the remaining players as they voted.

"We're sad to hear the majority of you would like to leave, per the agreement and the results of our voting process, you all will be leaving the games. The room erupted with loud chants and cheers, Su-Bong never releasing you from his hug "We're goin home, baby!" He yelled out as Nam-Gyu approached, his X patch prominent on his jacket, of course, he'd suck Su-Bong's dick if he was okay with it.

You slept like a baby that night, surprised and terrified to wake up to being thrown out of a van back onto the streets of your home town, your bag being thrown after you, after getting your footing and becoming familiar with your surroundings, you made a quick start for Su-Bong's apartment, you just hoped he still lived in that one and didn't move. As you got closer to his home, you spotted his bright purple hair kissing his shoes he had lost at the beginning of the games "Su-Bong!" You shouted taking off in a sprint to see him again, in a setting where you weren't risking your lives. "Holy shit! My girl! My beauty flower!" He yelled out opening his arms stumbling back a little bit as you slammed into him, holding onto him tightly "You okay? They didn't hurt you did they? They'll feel the wrath of Thanos the great!" He screamed out to the night sky "I'm okay! I'm okay, I just..I'm so happy to see you" You smiled squeezing him tighter, he just laughed holding onto you as he leaned down resting his head on yours.

Walking into the apartment again, you were flushed with old emotions, but you were pulled back to the present by Thanos's lips connecting with your neck "We're alone now, senorita, no players to see what we do" He whispered pulling your hips back to be flush against his "Su-bong, take me to dinner first" You gasped shaking your head as you turned around to face him "Let's..eat real food..then..continue this..and we'll start looking at new places, because..I might like you, but this is way too small for two people" You teased, he nodded almost like he was over excited about the idea. Unknown to you, this is all Su-Bong wanted, all he needed was to become big in the rap world, then he had more than he ever had.

---

So I wasn't entirely sure how to continue after his death scene in the show, so I tried to improvise the best I could, if you want me to continue this let me know, I love feedback especially towards my writing, I was thinking if you wanted I could do like a half part of just smut before finishing up the storyline, or I could leave it here?

#choi su bong x reader #choi seunghyun #thanos/choi su bong #thanos squid game #squid game thanos #thanos x reader #t.o.p x reader #top x reader #squidgame #squid game

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capitanooos · 3 days ago

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coins and sapphires, swords and sandals // lucius verus x reader

-`♡´- pairing : lucius verus x reader (fem)

-`♡´- summary : when readers first betrothed unwillingly finds his way back to Rome as a gladiator, things go differently than he had expected.

-`♡´- warnings : violence, gladiator 2 spoilers, and 1 too i guess, kiss kiss mwahmwah. acacius as readers daddy. reader is about 25, lucius 27ish to make the timeline in my head work lol.

-`♡´- extra : for more updates on more parts or lack of, check my other blog @jorra3lagon !!

-`♡´- notes : i guess this can count as a summary, or introduction to a whole fanfic ill write soon cause i cant get enough of paul mescal as lucius hihihhihi

-`♡´- word count : 4538

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission. not my gif

211 AD

As the farewells came to an end and the halls of the Acacius villa emptied, silence returned once more.

Ever since her father returned from his conquest in Numidia [Name] her life felt like a sick joke. From her black clothing, to the tear stains on her cheeks, to the constant visits of important people. Her second husband was dead. Her third love had left her alone in this world. The gods had damned her.

As she sipped the wine from her cup she stared at the fish in the water. So carefree, swimming endless circles in the pool, not having to worry for a second of losing their loved ones. They looked stunning, the fire from the lanterns reflecting on their colorful scales as they let out small air bubbles.

“Dear,” Lady Lucilla stood behind her, speaking to her softly as she moved to sit at [Name]'s side, also admiring the colorful fish. Now the two were connected by her father, Marcus Acacius, but before that their connection would’ve laid with [Name] her first betrothed. Lucius Verus. It had been nearly twenty years since his disappearance, and as time went, it became evident he would not be returning. He was presumed dead.

[Name] had gone on to marry a high lord as was expected of her. The lord who died of illness that took him away quickly, not too long after their marriage. She knew his interests lay not with women, they had an understanding and he was a good man. Had he lived longer, she knew her life would have been well with him, for he would never have hurt her, but alas, the good never live long.

Two years later, she remarried. As a lady of her status and bloodline, it was her duty. This time she married one of her fathers trusted advisers. A man, not older than thirty. With him, she had carried one child, who never lived to take his first breath. Two and a half years later, her second husband followed their child to the next world.

Now she had returned home once again, sharing a roof with her father and stepmother once more. The house that once kept Lucius safe and warm too.

“I feel for you, daughter.” Lucilla spoke again softly. Her hand comes up to caress [Name]s in a sense of comfort. The younger of the two women looked up, the tears in her reddened eyes reflecting in the red of the fire. Unlike the beautifully reflecting fish, her tears were angry, full of grief, shame. They fell with no shame. Tear after tear, grieving all that she had lost, and seemed to continue losing.

“As the daughter of our beloved General Acacius we mourn with you, Lady [Name]. It brought us much regret to hear of the passing of your late husband.” Much to her surprise, Emperor Geta spoke as he looked at her when she bowed before him in greeting. She was invited to one of their parties, where they would allegedly show one of the barbarians they captured in Numidia.

“Thank you, sire.” [Name] bowed her head at the Emperors again. They intimidated her, as they did with almost the whole of Rome. In the few times she had the absolute pleasure of being in their presence, she had always stuck close to her father, later on husbands, when they’d approach. The looks in their eyes scared her, they were like lions, able to snap and attack at any moment.

“Ah, you’re the girl who was betrothed to Lady Lucilla’s boy?” Emperor Caracalla spoke up as he looked at [Name] with funny eyes. She froze before nodding,

“Yes, sire, may the gods be with him.”

Emperor Geta gave his brother a look, seemingly confused as to how his brother would remember that given his… situation. He waved her away with a small half smile before returning his attention back to one of his concubines.

Giving one last bow, she moved to the sidelines, her once black dresses now back in their usual colorful state. Jewellery adorning her neck, hands, arms, waist, and ears clicking like a soft jingle as she walked among lords and ladies. Eventually her eyes laid on one of her friends. “Fortuna,” she smiled as she approached the woman. “I’m so glad to see you.”

The woman returned her greeting, pulling the other woman in for an embrace. “I’m also glad to see you here, out of your mourning clothes with that.” She spoke as she linked their arms together and moved back through the crowd. “Father says he’s getting the fiercest of the barbarians your father captured here to fight one of the Emperors their own champion.” smiles were exchanged as they politely pushed through the people. “Here look, he’s sitting right there.” Fortuna pointed to an exit, there on a bench sat a young man, looking down at the ground.

His dark blonde hair shone brightly from beneath the dirt that coated it. Cuts covered his face and arms, and probably the rest of his body too. She couldn’t see much more than that as Fortuna kept talking and walking to the front of the crowd to get a better view at the fight that was to happen soon.

“I saw him fight in the arena where my father bought him. He was biting away at some of the apes they fought. They call him the ape-eater.”

The guests cheered as the Emperors their champion was brought in. He bowed before the red haired rulers and they offered him a nod. [Name] her gaze wasn’t laid on either the Emperors or their champion. It was laid on the barbarian from Numidia who was being brought in. His shackles were undone when he stood in front of the Emperors as well. Up close she could see his bright blue eyes as they reflected in the sunlight that entered the big room. His facial features were sharp and he looked exactly like the statues of Roman heroes. [Name] her mouth slightly hung open as only one thought ran through her mind.

Lucius

As the name ran through her mind like a mantra the barbarian looked at her, and his eyes grew a tiny bit. His gaze was fierce and his beautiful blue eyes were filled with rage and anger as he studied her own eyes.

Lucius

His gaze swept over her face, down her body before snapping back to her eyes. His gaze now hardened as he looked at her again before turning his head away as a sword was thrusted into his hands.

Emperor Caracalla’s giggles and the screeches of his monkey echoed through the room as they fought, but [Name] her gaze was stuck on the same spot on the wall where the barbarian stood seconds ago.

Yelps and screams snapped her out of her trance and her eyes looked around, breathing out in relief when she saw the barbarian unharmed, impaling the Emperor's gladiator with his sword. The crowd cheered and clapped as the fallen champion was dragged out. [Name] continued to stare at the barbarian, who resembled so much more than he realized, as he refused to speak to the emperor.

His laugh echoed through the room as he finally opened his mouth after Marcrinus made up a lie. He stared at the Emperor intensely as he took a step toward him. The former took a small staggering step back as fear crossed his face for a split second, unknowing what the barbarian in front of him might do if he stayed within arms length of him.

“The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way. But…” [Name] her mouth fell open in shock of hearing Virgil, poetry coming out of his mouth, “...to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”

The edges of [Name] her vision began to go dark as she held onto Fortuna for support. The woman glanced down at her and upon seeing her pale face she brought her to a place to sit. The dark haired woman searched the others' eyes, not being able to find anything.

“What is the matter, friend?”

[Name] held a hand to her sweating forehead as she closed her eyes. Trying to get rid of her false hope and get herself together before anyone noticed that she was acting off.

“I suppose my stomach can not handle violence and bloodshed from this close up.” she lied with a small laugh, hoping she didn’t act too out of character for herself. “It felt like I was about to have a fainting spell.”

The other woman smiled as she offered her her drink. “I’ll have someone call for your carriage to get back home.”

The ride home was a blur. It must have been nothing more than a coincidence. It couldn’t have been anything else. She was greeted by a servant who accompanied her to her rooms and helped her change. The summer heat peaked these days and even the lightest clothes seemed suffocating if you wore them too long.

She kept silent for hours. The servants assumed she was still mourning her late husband, which would make sense. Supper went the same, any questions were just answered with a nod or shake of her head, eyes cast down at the food on her plate or the wine in her cup. Lucilla and Acacius exchanged looks, and Acacius couldn’t help but see his daughter as herself from a decade ago. Rebellious in her teen years, maturing into a young woman, looking more and more like her biological mother who had left the world too soon. He could see past her facade, he could see the clockworks rotating in her head, focussed, thinking, lost somewhere deep in her own world up in her head.

After dinner she had quickly excused herself before returning to her quarters. She stood in front of the collection of crystals, rocks, gems, and other small trinkets that laid on the desk. They had collected dust over the years that they had laid there. Their price value wouldn’t be that high, but their emotional value lay high. Higher than any money could ever buy.

Back when Lucius and she were betrothed, she was no older than six summers, Lucius not a full moon above eight. Lady Lucilla had a big part in the betrothal, knowing the girl’s mother as a childhood friend from court and believing they would make a strong couple. The daughter of a general, and the Prince of Rome. When Lucius had found out, he saw it not as a betrothal but as a friendship, after all, they were both children, they wouldn’t understand until at least a little later in life.

So always if Lucius found out [Name] would be in the city, he’d have his guards find her so he could give her small gifts. They were young but the pair grew oddly fond of each other and soon, a whole shelf of crystals and other precious shining items came to be in her rooms.

The years after Lucius’ disappearance she understood more and more how much he had meant to her, what would’ve been if he was still here, how different her life would have been. The items meant everything to her, for they were her last real connection to Lucius.

“You know, I would always be missing some items from my jewellery boxes when Lucius went out into the city. Or sometimes it was servants who reported missing items from the halls.” Lucilla said as she stood in the doorframe, admiring the young woman who had a bright green gemstone pressed against her chest. “It didn’t take long before I found out it was Lucius who took them. I followed him into the city, to the markets where I saw him giving you something. I watched as you took out a gold butterfly and smiled brightly. I never said a thing about the missing items, and often I laid out things for him to find and take.” Slowly she walked into the room and stood beside [Name] “He really loved you.”

The young girl nodded.

“What is bothering you, daughter?” Lucilla took one of her hands, holding it tightly as she searched her stepdaughter's eyes. They were filled with sorrow, her whole face portrayed it. She felt [Name] grip her hand as she stared at her.

“The Numidian barbarian I watched fight at the Emperors’ gathering…” she shook her head, looking down at the green stone in her hand.

Even when all hope seems lost, know it will return. Little wise Lucius Verus’ words from when he gave her this stone rang through her head.

“Curls as blonde as your own, eyes as blue as the heavens.” Lucilla’s eyes were still on her, “The only thing I could think of when I saw him was Lucius. He recited Virgil; The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way… Lucilla, you mustn't think of me as crazy.”

She felt the elder woman tighten her grip on her hand as she slowly pulled her along. They walked through the halls, crossed the courtyard, and entered the secret door that led to Lucius his former chambers. [Name] had only been there once or twice, years and years ago.

Lucilla stood still as she looked up, where drawings and words decorated the walls. [Name] followed her gaze, eyes widening upon realization. The words laid right in front of her, the exact words the blue eyed barbarian had recited.

The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way. But to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.

“General Justus Acacius, and with him his daughter [Name] and his wife, Lucilla! The daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius!

[Name] entered the Emperor's box in the Colosseum behind her father and Lucilla, hearing the people cheer for her father as they were introduced. It would forever surprise her how loud, and how massive the place was. She did not attend the games often, for it was known the bloodshed often fell bad on her stomach, but now, she felt like she needed to attend.

She took her seat next to Lucilla as her father spoke to the citizens. His voice rang through the crowd as they chanted his name. She saw Emperor Geta look in her direction, smiling wickedly when he caught her eyes before turning back around.

As the announcer spoke up again, the doors opened and the first gladiators came out. [Name] held her breath in fear as she looked among them. Her hand was interlinked with Lucilla’s, who saw him before she did and tightened her hand so hard her knuckles turned white. She followed her stepmother's gaze, and her eyes landed on the blue eyed barbarian once again and she returned the grasp on her stepmother's hand. The gladiator's eyes shifted to hers, and his gaze held familiarity, but before she could react, he had already looked away.

The south doors opened and in came the Emperor's prized champion.

“Hail Caesars!” he bellowed and the crowd followed with cheers and chants.

The two women up in the Emperor's box held their breath as they exchanged a knowing look. A mutual understanding.

Boo’s echoed through the stadium, cheers encouraged the gladiators, excitement buzzed and the emperors grew more blood thirsty every time a gladiator dodged the massive rhino.

When the blue eyed barbarian thrusted his sword down into the sand, and bent down to grab two fistfuls of sand she heard Lucilla breathe out a shuddering breath as she looked at him in curiosity and confusion.

The rhino crashed into the wall of the arena, causing a stir in the crowd and the Emperors rushed to the railing to see what happened like two little boys. A fight broke loose, the rider of the rhino and the barbarian fought. The upper hand going to the rider of the rhino, he kicked and threw the barbarian around and Emperor Geta spoke up.

“Brother, it’s that poet, is it not?” he spoke as he watched his brother sit back down with the excuse of not knowing. “The gates of hell are open night and day… Smooth is… I forgot… Smooth the…”

“Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.”

Below, the fight was still going, clouds of dust rising up in the arena as the crowds chanted for mercy. The chants turned into roars of excitement as the Emperor granted mercy in the name of the Gods. “No mercy!” the barbarian yelled, looking up to the box as he rested on one knee. “I would rather face your blade, than accept Roman mercy!” With that he stood up as the rhino rider charged for him again.

It happened in the blink of an eye as he rolled around and sliced his sword into his chest, watching how he fell to his knees as he cradled the wound. Now the crowds chanted for the kill, and the barbarian complied. The crowds were loud before, but now they went ballistic, and [Name] was certain all of Rome could hear them chant the gladiator's name.

“Hanno! Hanno! Hanno!”

The name continued to ring through [Name] her head as they made their way home. Lucilla had seen for herself what [Name] had told her days prior, and she too knew this was her son. Two decades had gone by since she had sent him off for his own safety. Two decades of wondering if her son was still alive, and now he had stood below her, captured in Numidia, fighting on the same ground where his father died.

Marcus Acacius was now looking at two distressed women. The two women he held closest to his heart, seeming in utter despair as they held their silence.

“Alright, what is the matter?” he spoke up once they reached the safety of their home, he couldn’t pretend any longer. He watched as the two women exchanged a glance, then stared confused as Lucilla ordered the servants out of the room.

“Lucius is alive,” [Name] started and her father looked at her with widened eyes. Her eyes were cast down on the stones at their feet, hand wrapped around the golden necklace at her neck.

Acacius looked at his wife who nodded, “He’s alive.”

He closed his eyes, his memories instantly snapping back to the young prince he once knew as his future son-in-law. The small, blonde boy with eyes as bright as the heavens.

“You are certain?”

“Yes, I know my son.”

[Name] her father sat down, looking at her. The tears were gathering in her eyes, she had mourned that boy greatly for many years. For a while she had refused to marry her first husband, saying it felt wrong, knowing she was still promised to another. She had prayed to the gods, prayed for his safety, prayed for his safe return to Rome, and now it seemed it had become reality.

“Father, I knew it was him when I watched him fight at the Emperors’ gathering. His reaction to seeing me was enough to prove my suspicions.” she met her fathers eyes, walking toward him and taking one of his hands in hers. “I know of your plans. I overheard the conversations with the senators. The dream of Marcus Aurelius. With Lucius alive, those two ginger maniacs have less claim to the empire. Please allow me to speak to him, get him to work with us. Fortuna won’t tell a soul if I ask her, she is like a sister to me and she owes me a favor.”

If Lucius Verus was truly alive, and back in Rome, that would change everything. Their plans to overthrow the Emperors would be easier with a male heir, the heir of Emperor Commodus, Lucilla knew that too. So Acacius nodded at his daughter, whose teary eyes turned into a smile as she embraced her father.

“Thank you, father.”

Once she stopped in front of the gates to the place Marcinius kept his gladiators, she slipped off her horse. Her fathers personal guard stood at a distance, ensuring her safety on the road. She walked to one of the sides, looking for the window she knew too well and when she did she called out.

“Fortuna!” It was soft, but loud enough for the other woman to poke her head out of the window. She nodded and disappeared again before appearing at the side gate leading to her and her fathers house.

“I want to see the gladiator Hanno.”

Her friend looked at her in shock but grinned as she took her hand and led her through the now dark courtyard. She was never more thankful for her friend as she opened the cell and let her in, standing on the lookout not far away.

“So, you’re the barbarian from Numidia.” [Name] spoke as she looked at the gladiators back. He wore no shirt and she could see the scars and wounds on his toned back. “Hanno, no?”

He turned around when she called his name, eyes once more growing in surprise as he saw her.

“My lady, yes.” he said, eyes tracing her whole form. From her dark blue dress to her dark robe, and the singular gold necklace, it was different as opposed to the light colors and many jewellery items she wore when he had first seen her. “What do you need from me?”

She studied his eyes, he was much closer now than he’d been in the last few days. The moon light shone in through the high barred window and fell on his face.

She took off her necklace and she held it up in front of his face. “Do you know who this is?” she spoke as the coin shimmered in the moonlight, illuminating the face on it.

LUCIUS VERUS II it read around the face.

“Lucius Verus the second?” Hanno spoke, reading it off the coin.

“You can read, you know Virgil, I’ve been informed you know Roman history, you fight like-” fought exactly like the boy she used to watch as he parred with his guards. “Like a trained Roman swordsman. You are no Numidian, so don’t pretend to be one, Lucius.”

He raised his brows at her, at her choice of words, at the name she called him. A cocky smile adorned his face as he took a daring step forward, his smile widening when she didn’t move back, instead only straightening her back and raising her chin to look at him.

“Whoever you think I am, you are wrong.” Hanno bent down a little, towering over her as she held his fierce gaze.

She reached into the pocket of her cloak, her fingers wrapping around the cold stone as she brought it out.

“Nineteen summers ago, I got this sapphire from my betrothed, the young prince Lucius Verus. When he gave it to me he said the words; even when all hope seems lost, know it will return. Not long later after that he disappeared. Whether he knew it then or not, he would be our hope in the future. He is our hope now. Not only to save Rome from the rule it is now under, but also to bring the dream of Marcus Aurelius to reality.”

Hanno looked at her, something in his gaze changed as he stood straight again. His gaze fell to the small treasures in her hand.

“You carry the face of a missing prince around your neck? How your husband must like that.” he scoffed as he turned his back to her once more.

“He was a dear friend, and a great loss not only to me, but his mother too. I loved the prince, with my entire heart. I still do.”

That had Hanno turning his head around, looking at her as she turned to leave the cell before turning her own face back to him.

“Lucius Verus is our last hope. Stay alive gladiator.”

“Wait,” Hanno turned back around and took a big step forward, she could feel his warm breath on her neck. “Why? Why do you think I am your precious prince.”

[Name] turned around to face him, her brows furrowed at his choice of words, his arrogant, nearly mocking tone. She looked at the necklace that was dangling between them.

“The gods have damned me, but that does not mean I forget the ones I love. Some things do not change, can not change. You have three birthmarks on the left side of your neck. Along with a scar covering both of your calves from the same sword strike from when you insisted on practicing with real swords with your uncle, Emperor Commodus.” She reached a hand up to his neck, lightly touching the three birthmarks before trailing behind him, and sure enough, the white lines covering his calves stood out among his toned skin. “The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth is the descent and easy is the way. Those are the lines written on the walls of your childhood bedroom. I can go on, but I knew it was you from the first moment we made eye contact at the Emperors’ gathering.” she finished as she circled back in front of him.

Hanno looked at her with wide eyes, his breathing heavy. He had not counted on being recognised that easily. Hell, he had not even counted on seeing her. His eyes darted between hers before they fell on her soft, plush lips. All those years and she still remembered the smallest things about him, carrying his face around her neck, close to her heart. Kept the trinkets he had gifted her all those years ago. She risked her life coming here just to seek confirmation of what she already knew.

“We-”

He pressed his lips against her own, his worn and scarred hands coming up to cup her face as she returned the kiss. Her hands moved to his chest, one pulling him closer by the back of his neck as the other felt his heart go crazy below his skin. The kiss was slow but rough as one of his hands travelled to her lower back and pulled her body closer to his.

They broke apart when they heard soft footsteps approaching. They looked to the door of the cell to see Fortuna motioning it was time for [Name] to go.

[Name], who still held the gold necklace in her hand, looked up at the man before her. She reached for the necklace with her other hand before moving them around Hanno’s neck and locking it.

“Remember who you are, and remember what is rightfully yours.” she cupped his cheek and he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “Stay alive, Lucius.”

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

dont forget to like and reblog <3 please😓😓

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator #paul mescal #lucius verus aurelius #lucius verus x you #lucius #lucius verus #lucius verus x reader #gladiator movie #gladiator II #paul mescal gladiator #hanno gladiator #gladiator lucius #hanno x reader #gladiator2 #i need this man so bad #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #justus acacius

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r0-boat · 2 days ago

Note

🪶 anon here! Can I request headcanons for ZZZ Lighter, Billy, Anton, Ben Bigger, Wise, and Lycaon reacting to being under a mistletoe with his gn crush please?

Oh my God Oh my God I'm so late.

Pretend it's Christmas! just pretend! shut up!!

ZZZ Boys react being under the mistletoe

You smiled and chatted with a little group of your friends, the managers at random play hosted a Christmas party in their parking lot and who are you to decline your best friends! With a few chairs and tables Christmas lights and even a giant projector playing classic Christmas movies it quickly became very lively Even some of the people running the shop next door brought homemade food and treats, and some alcohol. After a drink or two and introducing yourself to a few people, You somehow made your way under a familiar green plant with someone you knew.

Lighter Lorenz

He'll try to act like he wasn't the one who tried so hard to look so casual standing close enough between you and the mistletoe. He'd been trying to get you underneath all night, And now that you're right next to him he had to hold back how much he was smiling as all he did was look up.

"Well, would you look at that... I'm not too familiar with the rules, are you?" The big fat liar said, letting a little curve of a smile grace his freshly moisturized lips from the chapstick he had used earlier. He was already sneaking his arms around your waist pulling you closer to kiss him. You decided to not call him out for his blatant lie as he almost completely took the lead and kissed you.

Billy Kid

He generally thought mistletoe was a myth, a myth that someone like him would never be under a plant like that. He didn't even know that The plant actually was a real life plant until Nicole had to explain to him what he was underneath. And once everything hits him all at once.

Billy.exe stopped working

He doesn't care if he can't feel your soft lips, the fact that you kissed him counts. But damn it was one of those days where he really wish he could feel maybe he should get that skin sensation update. It's expensive but any price he would pay to feel your lips again.

Anton Ivanov

The most chill out of everyone. "Oh I'm just giving you a kiss? Sure!" As he goes in to kiss you. Using the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss you has him fist bumping the air.

Anton is the kind of guy who makes his feelings for you known. He's also so blatant with his feelings that you think he's joking. If it was anywhere else on that mistletoe, he would have kissed them on the cheek or something, but no, for you. He makes sure to kiss you where it counts. He'll even ask "do you want more?"please say yes he would like that.

Ben Bigger

Poor bear he's practically shaking. Despite being twice your size He scared that he might hurt you or nip you on accident with his sharp teeth. "You don't have to if you don't want to... You can just kiss me right here." He says with a smile His claw pointing to his cheek. He could never accept a kiss from your lips. It's not the right time!

He'll make sure to bend to your height. His eyes closed, bracing for your soft lips. He could hear his heart pounding so loud that it drowned out everyone else. He hopes no one is looking. He might die from embarrassment or cardiac arrest, whichever one comes first.

You surprise him by touching his cute face and kissing his little nose. He hopes that you can't see his blushing face through his brown fur, but he's not helping to hide how he feels with his paws covering his face.

Wise

Damn it! He told his sister not to hang up that thing! And when trying to take it down you just so happen to bump into him. His eyes went wide as his heart jumped in his throat instantly forgetting what he was doing. His voice cracks as you point out the mistletoe that he's trying to reach for.

"Y-yeah That's there... Um... So listen you don't have to if you-" You were done hearing it as you kissed him on the lips. Thanking his self-restraint that day for swallowing his internal screaming. But he couldn't do much to hide the blush on his face as he smiled. "Forward aren't you... Save some for me." Four words that he will be regretting for the rest of his life.

Fine, the mistletoe can stay... For now, he'll have to thank his sister later.

Von Lycaon

To him a mistletoe is childish, Even as a younger pup He thought it was a little stupid. But with that bright smile on your face how could he refuse. Why spoil your fun? You look so happy to see him and you're cute face always makes his tail wag.

"where would you like my lips to lay?" He asks. When you appoint to your lips his eyebrows flick up for just a second before his smile widens. "Who am I to turn down such a request." He can't help but give you a little extra pressing his nose against your hand before moving to kiss your lips. Now he definitely understands the appeal of mistletoe.

Asaba Harumasa

He would probably take the mistletoe that is tied to the ceiling and bring it over to you. He taps your shoulder and jiggles it in his hand with a smug smile. He will regret this for the rest of his life, but who cares? He has a little alcohol in his system, and you're right there. His heart could burst when he felt your lips against his. He wanted more so badly. He tried to pull you in closer. His eyes were half-lit as if he were under a spell.

He had to stop himself from going in for another kiss. Your lips were so perfect. He wished he could do more than a quick peck, but with people watching, he couldn't just slip his tongue in your mouth.

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smilesatdawnmain · 2 days ago

Text

Taken Back (Part Two)

——-

As the two children embraced, there was a sense of confusion and amazement in the air. Broken only when the Monkey Prince spoke.

"I know you," Xiaotian whispers, his words filled with wonder.

Macaque’s ears flickered, startled. He didn’t know what that meant, and perhaps Xiaotian didn’t understand either. When he looked at Wukong, the two parents were left puzzled as the boys sobbed and clung to each other.

“Um…” Wukong drawled out, gesturing to the two in hopes his mate might have some input.

Macaque did not, but he stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the two boys. He hadn’t even had a chance to really look at this human cub yet before this was all happening. He placed a hand on Wukong's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I think," he said softly, "We need to talk." they exchanged a long and meaningful look. This was strange- stranger then anything they had ever seen before, and they had seen a lot in their time.

Wukong nodded, his own gaze still fixed on Xiaotian and MK. He had never seen his son react this way to anyone, let alone a complete stranger. It was as if the two children shared a bond that transcended explanation. “Yeah,” he was in complete agreement. Yet, before they could, he felt it was best they deal with this… situation? “Uh- Xiaoxiao?” he called to his son tenderly.

Xiaotian sniffled, lifting his tear-streaked face from MK's shoulder to look at his father. "Daddy," he said, his voice trembling, "Can... can he stay with us? Please? Forever??"

“Forever??” Wukong's heart clenched at the pleading look in his son's eyes. He admits… he had a similar thought, but for Xiaotian to also feel this way? He glanced at Macaque, who seemed equally torn. "Oh- Xiaoxiao," Wukong began gently, grimacing and rubbing the back of his neck. He shouldn’t just say yes, he knew. "MK has a home of his own. We can't just-"

"No!" Xiaotian cried out, clutching MK's against his chest, clinging to him with all his might. His parents stiffened, feeling a cold chill shoot up their spines when their child screamed, “No Daddy, don’t take him away! No no- please!” He was clinging to MK, sobbing his little heart out.

Wukong was panicking immediately, eyes wide, having never heard his son plead before. Mihou almost rushed forward to grab and console him, barely forcing himself still. “X-Xiaoxiao-??” Wukong stammered.

“Please—! Pleaseee-“ Xiaotian’s voice cracked.

Wukong’s entire body tensed and his stomach tightened, wanting with all of his being to alleviate his son’s concerns. He was waving his hands around in a frantic manner. “Okay! Okay! He can stay!”

“Wukong?!” Macaque smacked his arm.

“For dinner!” Wukong added in after wincing and rubbing his arm. “W-We uh- he’ll stay for dinner.” he nodded, sounding more assured. “Which your Baba and I have to prepare. Sooo-”

Macaque shot Wukong a pointed look, but seeing the desperation in his son's eyes, he softened. "Yes, Sun Spot, your friend can stay for dinner. Okay?" He managed a small smile. They watched the concern leave Xiaotian’s teary gaze, softening as he nuzzled the boy in his arms.

“Otay…”

There was a shudder to Macaque’s shoulders, carefully reaching out to brush a few tears from his baby’s face. It was painful to see him so upset “W-Why don't you show him around Flower Fruit Mountain while your Daddy and I get things ready?"

Xiaotian's face lit up, smiling through a tearful expression. He rubbed his arm to his eyes, sniffling. His voice was crackly as he patted MK’s shoulders, drawing the boy’s head from his chest. “Hey- Hey, you are- MK? MK right?” he had heard his Daddy say it a few times.

MK gave a rather pitiful nod, feeling so drained from crying. When had he last done this? “Yes… I’m MK.” he patted his chest. Everything felt so sensitive. Like the saturation of a game getting put higher then it ever had before, making it hard to adjust. It was bright, loud… amazing…

Xiaotian smiled, taking MK's hand again and giving it a squeeze. "I'm Xiaotian. But you can call me Xiaoxiao if you want." Every time he seemed to brush away some tears, more seemed to follow, so he opted to push through them with a smile instead. “Wanna play? With me?”

MK nodded eagerly, his own smile breaking through the tears. "Yeah! I wanna play with you, Xiaoxiao." The nickname felt natural on his tongue, as if he'd been saying it all his life. “Is- Is that alright?”

“It’s alright! Baba said yes,” he looked up at his Baba expectantly. He could often get a yes from his Daddy. It was his Baba who was sometimes the tricky one.

With his arms folded, Macaque nodded. They needed a moment to regroup and discuss this whole “MK” situation and what this possibly meant. And yet- when MK looked up at him with those big teary eyes of his- Macaque was struck with nostalgia.

This was a human boy, and yet, for some reason, he thought he was looking at his Mate.

It didn’t make any sense in truth, but MK looked the spitting image of Wukong when he was that age. Lacking in the fur, of course. It was his face that held the similarity. Same nose, same eyes shape, same opened mouthed stare. He looked at Wukong sharply, who hadn’t seemed to notice this.

“Baba?” Xiaotian asked when his parent seemed lost in his comparisons

Macaque cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with Wukong to smile gently at the boys. "Of course it's alright, Sun Spot. You two go have fun.”

Xiaotian's grin widened. He tugged on MK's hand, leading him towards the lush jungle that surrounded their home. "C'mon, I'll show you all my favorite spots! We can climb trees, and dig holes, and look for cool bugs and-" His excited chatter filled the air as the two boys disappeared into the foliage, their laughter echoing in

Macaque called after them, “Be back before sundown for dinner!”

“Otay Baba!” came their son’s chirp in reply.

“Otay, Six Eared Macaque,” MK added in a softer voice.

Xiaotian was distantly grimacing, “Don’t call Baba that. He is Baba.”

“B-But-” MK says. “He is that. The Six Eared Macaque.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“NU-UH! He is Baba, or Mihou, or MOON.”

“He’s not the moon??” MK says, confused

“My Daddy calls him the Moon! So yes he is!”

They couldn’t see the children anymore, but could still hear them as they took off into the mountain. Wukong was grinning ear to ear as he stared at his Moon, seeing that way Macaque’s tail twisted and he hid a smile behind his hand at how cute to the two boys were together.

“You thinks he’s cute~” He cooed.

“Shh it,” Macaque shakes his head.

As the children's voices faded, Wukong turned to face his mate, "Mihou, did you see that? The way they reacted to each other? It was like..." with a tad more seriousness, he found the whole interaction so curious. He was happy the boys were quick to get along, but their initial meeting was so bizarre.

"Like they already knew each other," Macaque finished, his brow furrowed in thought. It was bizarre. "I've never seen Xiaotian respond to anyone that way before. And the human boy, MK... there's something about him."

“I told you! Just looking at him once and it was like-” Wukong nodded, his own mind racing. "I don’t know how to explain it.”

Macaque was never one to disagree with Wukong’s gut feelings. His mate could peer the very essence of the truth, so of course he believed that something was odd about the child. He just hadn’t expected it to be odd and involving Xiaotian as well. “The child doesn’t seem dangerous.”

Wukong nodded in agreement. "No, he's not dangerous at all. Just a sweet little boy. But there's something special about him, Mihou. I felt it the moment I saw him at the city. It's like he was meant to be part of our lives." he was babbling now, Macaque quick to stop his mind from taking an inch and running a mile with it.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Wukong, we can't just take in a human child on a whim. There are so many things to consider - his upbringing, his education, how he would fit into our world. He is soft and fragile. His life span wouldn’t match ours. He would be at risk from demons and-”

“Xiaotian is also fragile and he is perfectly safe with us.” Wukong tried to disagree. His mate shook his head in return.

“You never let Xiaotian out of your sight because you are so concerned for his safety. Your argument is invalid.”

Wukong's shoulders slumped, knowing Macaque had a valid point. "I know, I know. But did you see how happy Xiaotian was? How they both were? It's like they found a missing piece of themselves in each other."

Macaque's expression softened. "I saw it, peaches. And it warms my heart to see our son so joyful. But we have to think this through carefully. MK has a life in the human world. We can't just uproot him on a feeling, no matter how strong it may be. Can’t just- throw him into a world he’s never known. The city and here- it’s so different. There would be no other humans around here. He might feel…” Macaque rubbed his arm. “Alone.” Then he sharply pointed to Wukong, “Not to mention-” and he made this point clear, “You are talking about adopting him, essentially. Being. His. Parents. That is Huge, Peaches.”

“I-I know-” Wukong was bobbing his head up and down.

“Are you sure?? Because you seemed convinced that was going to be what was happening when you stepped off that cloud a few minutes ago,” Macaque squinted his eyes at him.

They had never talked about having more children before. It was a… a pleasant thought, if Macaque was honest, but should never be just done on a whim. Xiaotian was so sick all the time, with his delicate health requiring their constant care and attention.

Wukong rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Then he frowned, "I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself," he admitted. "It's just... seeing them together, it felt like it was meant to be.” He says with such certainty as he takes his mate’s hands, “When I'm with MK, it feels right. Like he-” he stepped closer to his love, to his Moon, “He belongs with us. With Xiaotian." Was it truly crazy to think- that there had always been a spot for MK in their lives?

Macaque let out a slow breath, captivated by those eyes for a brief moment. They were so sincere and genuine. He gently touched Wukong's cheek with his hand, "I…” perhaps somewhere in his own chest, something was pounding. Something was screaming for him to listen but… “But we need to think it through carefully, for everyone's sake. Especially MK's and Xiaotian's. We need to think about what's best for that little boy. He's had a tough life in that orphanage.” he didn’t need to see MK long to know that, “We can't just swoop in and change everything overnight. We need to do this right and answer these questions.” false hope, false promises- he would hate to force that on a child.

Wukong's grip loosened, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t waver. He recalled how openly MK stared at passing families during their time in the city. Longingly… “You’re right,” as he always seemed to be. His clever Moon. “How do we- answer this? Do we ask Xiaotian or MK?”

Macaque paused to listen to the boys in the distance. Talking, asking each other questions- learning about each other. They were still technically strangers, even if their meeting seemed more like a reunion. “I’m not sure either of them know what this all is,” he concluded. “Let’s…” he took Wukong’s hand. “Start with a play date and dinner, just as we said.” He concluded. One step at a time. “Give me some time to reach out to Yellow Tusk and the others and understand this. Give us a both a chance to talk to Xiaotian on what is going on in that little head of his.”

Wukong agreed with that plan, squeezing his hand back. After a moment or two, he swung their fingers together. “….” His lips were squiggly, clearly eager to say something but holding himself back.

Macaque frowned, then smirked and quirked an eyebrow, “Say what is on your mind.”

Like a dam Wukong spilled, “He likes to draw Mihou. He’s creative, and is so clever. He writes notes. Notes. Has a little journal he writes his notes and stories- like you did when you were younger.” Of course they used the cave walls since paper wasn’t available sometimes- but when Mihou did learn of human journals and parchement, he was using it none stop.

Macaque lips lifted, curling into an amused smile. It was clear his mate had already formed a strong bond with the human child. "He sounds like a bright little boy," Macaque acknowledged, snorting at the feeling of Wukong’s wagging tail, “I can see why you're so taken with him." It was cute how much Wukong already adored this boy- and how much the King wanted to share that adoration with him.

Wukong grinned, his tail swishing happily. "Just wait until you get to know him more, Mihou. He's got such a curious mind, always asking questions and wanting to learn. Reminds me of a certain someone..." He gave Macaque a playful nudge.

Macaque arched an eyebrow inquisitively and crossed his arms with a smile. "Well then, if he needs some paper, we can provide it," he said, finishing by fixing the bow on Wukong's scarf. He nuzzled their noses together. “Watch those two for me while I investigate a little.”

Wukong leaned into the nuzzle, savoring the tender moment with his mate. "I will, my Moon," he murmured. His voice was a tad softer, "And thank you, for being open to this. I know it's a lot to take in." he shifted his weight a tad.

Macaque’s expression was tender, his fingers lingering on Wukong's scarf. "It is, but I trust your instincts, Peaches. If you feel this strongly about MK, then there must be a reason. We'll figure it out together."

With a final affectionate brush of his tail against Wukong's, he turned, dropping into his shadow.

Wukong's grin grew wider as he gazed off into the distance. He thought about simply keeping an eye on the boys, but where was the enjoyment in that? Mihou didn’t mention any limitations on playing. With a wide grin, he dashed towards the source of the little one’s joyful noises. As he approached, he let out a loud roar.

“Here comes Monkey King!!”

Xiaotian was shrieking, alerted and grabbing MK’s hand. “Run! Daddy’s coming!!!” He motioned for MK to follow, giggling wildly. At first surprised, the human boy glanced back to see Wukong trekking towards them in a dramatic fashion, stomping and flailing as if performing a play.

“Oh!” MK gasped They had enough time to run away, thanks to Wukong's slow and exaggerated movements

“Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!!”

MK squeaked and took off running with Xiaotian, the two quickly disappearing into the thick woods as the Monkey King followed closely behind.

The King's playful roars echoed behind them, spurring them on faster. "This way!" Xiaotian called, tugging MK's hand as they veered left, ducking under a curtain of vines. They emerged into a small clearing, sunlight filtering down through the canopy in shimmering beams. They ran past a few of the tribe members, who giggled and chirped as they ran. “Hi Taru!” Xiaotian waved as they passed one of the younger guards, who gave a soft smile and waved back to them. He looked curious of MK, but his smile was just as warm.

MK's eyes widened with wonder as they dashed through the jungle, taking in the vibrant colors and exotic plants. He had never seen so many trees before. He had never seen anything like this before - it was like stepping into a storybook.

Xiaotian's hand felt warm and reassuring in his own as they navigated the winding paths together.

"Over here, MK!" Xiaotian called, pulling him behind a large tree trunk. They pressed their backs against the rough bark, trying to stifle their giggles as they heard the Monkey King's exaggerated stomping growing closer.

"Where oh where could my little monkeys be?" the Monkey King called out in a sing-song voice. XIaotian giggled as he leaned into MK, who panted to catch his breath.

My.

MK touched a hand to his chest.

Monkey King said “My” little Monkeys. MK’s heart was swelling, feeling so big he had to remind himself it was a slip of the tongue.

Xiaotian was touching his arm, jolting MK a little. When they locked eyes, MK relaxed, sensing- understanding.

It was like Xiaoxiao could peer into his head and just knew.

No one had ever truly knew or understood him before.

MK grinned. He couldn’t stop grinning and in return, Xiaotian did the same, both covering their mouths to be quiet when Wukong got closer.

His footsteps crunched on the fallen leaves, circling closer to their hiding spot. "I hope they're not... right... HERE!"

With a dramatic leap, the Monkey King landed in front of the tree, arms spread wide. Xiaotian and MK shrieked with delight, scattering in opposite directions as the Monkey King playfully lunged for them.

MK darted to the left, his heart pounding with excitement. He had never played like this before. He brushed his messy bangs out of his face, sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him. He had only ever played with Mei like this before.

He couldn’t wait to tell her all about this.

This must be his Angel’s doing. He had never met his angel before, only getting tea left for him in the middle of the night, but only goods things had happened since his angel came around.

He must have heard his quiet whisper of wishes every night! He must have!

MK's thoughts were interrupted as strong arms scooped him up from behind, lifting him high into the air. "Gotcha, little one!" the Monkey King exclaimed, his laughter ringing through the jungle.

MK squealed with joy as the Monkey King spun him around, the world becoming a blur of green and gold. When the spinning stopped, MK found himself nestled securely in the Monkey King's arms, gazing up at the legendary hero's face.

"You're fast, Kid," the Monkey King praised, booping the boy's nose. “But, not fast enough to avoid me~ Now where is Xiaoxiao-?” MK giggled, then laughed harder when Xiaotian was jumping down from the trees above with a little battle cry. Smacking against Wukong’s face, the man yelled, “Hey!” Wukong stumbled back, wailing as Xiaotian clung to his face. "Ah! I've been ambushed by my own son!" he exclaimed dramatically, pretending to wobble unsteadily. MK giggled from his perch in Wukong's arms, watching the playful tussle between father and son.

Xiaotian called triumphantly, his tail wrapping around Wukong's neck in a fluffy hold. "I got you, Daddy! Now you have to let MK go!”

"Oh, do I now?" His father paused, body stilling and smirking under Xiaotian’s little hands, half leaning back. “A scamp is trying to steal my victory?

The Monkey Prince look perplexed, but clearly that is how this game worked. “Yes.”

Wukong considered this for a moment, then grinned mischievously. "Well, if you say that then..." With a sudden twist, he flipped Xiaotian over his shoulder, catching the little monkey by the ankle. Xiaotian shrieked with laughter as he dangled upside down, his fur ruffling in the breeze.

“Daddy! You are cheating!” he waved his arms around.

“I am not~” Monkey King sang. “I’m catching a scamp how all scamps need to be caught.”

Xiaotian wiggled, but when he could not escape, he locked eyes with his only hope, "MK! Save me!” He wiggled his arms towards him.

MK gasped, realizing he needed to do something. He looked down, perplexed. The Monkey King’s hold wasn’t too solid, so he carefully slipped jfrom his arm to his shoulder. Wobbly and careful, not even realizing Wukong was giving him plenty of time to do so, he got onto the King’s back. He scrawled across the expanse of it to the other side, dangling from Wukong’s bicep now. This took about 2 minutes, Wukong lips so squiggly as he tried not to laugh and stay serious in face of the boy’s very determined little pouts. “Don't worry Xiaoxiao, I'll save you!" He reached for Xiaoxiao’s hands, trying to pull him from Wukong’s clutches.

Wukong chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he watched the two boys struggle. "Oh no, whatever shall I do against such mighty heroes?" he exclaimed in mock distress.

MK grunted with effort, his small hands gripping Xiaotian's tightly. He yelped as he lost his footing and fell. He would have fallen had Xiaotian not tightened his hold, now dangling precariously from Xiaotian's hands as they both swung from Wukong.

“…Oh, double scamp. Score.” Wukong smirked. Xiaotian giggled uncontrollably at their silly predicament. Wukong shook his head in amusement. "Well, well, looks like I've caught two scamps! I love a good two for one deal.”

Xiaotian glanced down at MK, eyes sparkling with mischief. For a moment, it was like they shared a single brain. Xiaotian’s thoughts as clear as if they were his own. MK held his breath, dazzled as Xiaotian declared, "Together!" With a sudden surge of energy, both boys swung back and forth like pendulums, trying to gain momentum. As they reached their peak, Xiaotian yelled, “Daddy’s weak spot is his neck!”

“Huh?” Wukong blinked dumbly at them as they swung with enough force for little fingers to tickle under his chin.

Before MK’s very eyes, the Monkey King suddenly squealed and recoiled as a high-pitched sound erupted from his throat. "No! No! Not the neck!" he roared playfully, twisting side to side as he tried to evade their tiny fingers.

MK and Xiaotian made one final synchronized push. They surged forward, grasping on tight as they tickled Wukong's neck with all their might. The Monkey King let out an exaggerated cry of surrender, pretending to collapse to his knees in dramatic fashion. "Okay, okay! You win!” he released them.

The boys tumbled together into a heap of laughter, rolling across the forest floor as Wukong dramatically fell back, clutching his neck and groaning like a wounded warrior. "Oh, the betrayal! My own children have turned against me!" he mocked, his voice laced with exaggerated despair.

MK looked up from their tangled pile of limbs with a sharp look of shock. There it was again. It might have meant nothing to the Monkey King- perhaps even a slip of the tongue, but he had just claimed MK as his own again. He didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t dare hope for it, even as the butterflies in his tummy excitedly fluttered.

"We did it, MK!” Xiaotian was pulling him from his thoughts, wrapping his arm around MK’s shoulders in a side hug.

Blinking a few times, MK returned the smile, “W-We did!” they high fived, Wukong watching from the side as he lay “dead” as the two cheered their victory. “I can’t believe it. We defeated the legendary Monkey King!"

"I knew we could!" Xiaotian puffed out his tiny chest, beaming with pride. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of victory and mischief.

“I didn’t.” MK admits, shaking his head. He would never think in his wildest dream he would be here, doing this. It was so wonderful he thought it a dream. “The Monkey King is the strongest ever.”

Wukong’s tail curled a little in delight, then flattened when his son not so kindly snorted, “No Daddy isn’t.”

Gee, thanks Xiaoxiao…

“But-” MK was starting to argue.

“We, are the strongest.” Xiaotian gestured between them. Wukong curiously lifted his head as Xiaotian touched his chest, “Together, there is nothing we cannot do!”

For a moment, a dazzling and striking moment, Wukong’s inhaled sharply, seeing himself in his son. In MK, he saw his Moon. How boldly he had stated the same thing to Mihou so many years ago, and in return Mihou had said the same in his own hour of need. It was their thing- word for word.

He could see them so perfectly within these two younglings. Xiaotian was so much like himself- his face was the spitting image of Mihou, but with Wukong’s tendency for cheeky trickery. A tad reckless, but thankfully with a little more thought to his actions like Mihou tended to have. While MK…

Wukong touched his own face a little.

MK kinda reminded him of himself, just without fur. The face of his younger self. Yet, the child’s mannerisms fell more towards Mihou. Mihou was so well mannered and easy going, a sweet heart able to switch on a dime to defend those he loved with ferocity. He wondered if MK was similar. He felt it was so when he saw that fire in MK’s eyes sometimes.

Exactly how was that so? How did MK seem so much like the two of them? It didn’t make sense.

As Wukong pondered this, the laughter and excitement of the boys faded into a comfortable silence. Xiaotian had flopped onto his back, arms sprawled wide as if he were claiming the earth beneath him, while MK sat cross-legged, a thoughtful frown etching his brow.

“What now?” he inquired curiously.

“I dunno,” xiaotian says.

MK offered, “I could write down some ideas.”

“You can write?” Xiaotian asked. This was typically the age children learned of course, but Xiaotian had fallen rather behind in his studies. He hated school work.

MK on the other hand, adored it. He just wished he didn’t have to miss so much due to being sick.

"Of course I can!" MK said, a hint of pride sneaking into his tone. He pulled out his journal to show his work. Squiggly, with a lot of misspellings, but a lot of dedication to learning the craft. Wukong crawled a bit closer, laying on his stomach before the boys, curiously eyeing his journal. Xiaotian rolled onto his tummy to copy his Daddy, staring. While he himself wasn’t one for actually writing, he could read rather well.

“You do pretty swirls like Baba does.” Xiaotian pointed to it. His writing was more like his Daddy’s. In every sense, actually. In order to try and motivate his son to learn to read and write, Monkey King had also started to learn- despite insisting he would never try a few years prior.

Anything for his kid.

“Oh hey, he does.” Wukong pressed his finger to how MK spelled “Today”, the y so curly and cute. Just like Mihou…

MK's cheeks flushed a soft pink under Wukong's attention. "Thanks! I try really hard," he said, flipping the pages to show off his latest observations from their adventures. Each entry was adorned with little doodles: scribbled images of the skies—clouds shaped like animals and sunsets that dripped into the horizon like spilled paint.

Xiaotian pointed at a drawing of a particularly complex cloud, “What’s this one??”

MK squinted at it before breaking into a grin. “That one’s a cloud monster! It’s made of cotton candy!”

Wukong snickered when Xiaotian clapped. “Oh! I wanna eat cotton candy!” he looked at his Daddy. “What is cotton candy? I thought cotton was um- clothes?”

“Um- sugary candy. Pure sugar.” Wukong explained. Xiaotian’s eyes sparkled and his father poked his nose. “Too much sugar for a scamp like you.”

“Aww,” Xiaotian pouted.

MK tilted his head, finding that curious. So Xiaotian had never eaten cotton candy? He wrote down that note for himself, wondering what other things Xiaotian didn’t know about. Maybe he could teach him.

There were so many things MK couldn’t wait to tell or show Xiaotian. He hoped he would have a lot of time to do so.

“Oh!” Xiaotian giggled when MK flipped the page, pointing to another picture. “It’s Chapu Chu!” He giggled. Wukong leaned curiously to see a doodle MK had made.

To his surprise, it was indeed Chapu Chu.

When his son was born, Mihou had prepared a little gift for him. A monkey doll that Xiaotian had adored ever since. He had proudly called it Chu, later on calling it Chapu Chu, to give it a full name.

It could be coincidence, but this doodle was very clearly intended to be a doodle of a doll, with stitches and everything. “Why do you-?” Wukong pointed to it. “Why did you draw this?” How did MK know what it looked like?

MK stared at it and then Wukong, “I dreamed about it.” He says.

“Dreamed?” Wukong inquired. The boy nodded, fiddling with his pencil.

“I dream a lot of things.” Many things that didn’t make sense.

Wukong opened and closed his mouth. What did that mean? What did any of this mean?? Unsure, Xiaotian was cooing-

“I dream too!” Though, certainly not the same things MK did.

As the children giggled, MK grabbing a few more pencils so they could doodle together.

Wukong quietly watched.

What a strange, but wonderful boy….

——————

When Macaque returned later to check in on everything, the mountain had been very quiet. Alert at once, he listened intently for the sound of his mate. Hearing his heart beat, he followed the sound. It was slow, steady- the way it only was when…

When he found Wukong, it turned out his husband was asleep. He found everyone, Wukong and the kids, collapsed below a shady tree.

Wukong lounged with one arm behind his head, snorting in amusement. His other arm stretched out to the side, with two little boys cuddled against it, resting their heads on his bicep. Holding hands as they slumbered.

Macaque stilled, the sight as sweet as the peaches on the trees above them. Quietly stepping closer he knelt before them. “So much for watching them. You fell right to sleep.,” he mused, poking Wukong’s velvety nose. He reached out, brushing back a bit of Wukong’s bangs.

Wukong grunted, twitching lightly at the touch but not waking. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, blissfully unaware of Macaque’s presence. The boys stirred just slightly, Xiaotian mumbling in his dreams as he snuggled closer to Wukong, giving the same soft sigh.

Macaque smiled, warmth unwinding in his chest . It was a sight that never failed to bring him joy—their little family nestled against the sunlit grass, unaware of the world beyond their peaceful cocoon. He remembered when it had just been him and Wukong, wild and free, dreaming of someday building a life together, filled with laughter and little adventures.

He felt a gentle tug at his heartstrings as he reached out again, brushing his fingers down Xiaotian’s cheek, soft as the petals of spring blooms. “Awake or asleep, my little troublemaker- oh how perfect you are.” he whispered, kissing his forehead. Taking his scarf off to drape it over Xiaotian, he hesitated for a moment.

He looked at MK, considering the human boy. Quietly, he reached his hand out. He didn’t know what compelled him to do so…

He liked all children, but he was never too affectionate with any he didn’t know. Yet, he found himself brushing aside MK’s bangs.

A flicker of warmth blossomed in Macaque's chest, just as he'd always felt for Wukong and Xiaotian; this was something new- yet something so familiar. He was enamoured, softly caressing MK’s cheek as he had done with his own cub- like MK was his.

Who… was this cub?

What was this tightening feeling in his chest? A blissful pain was the best way he could describe it. It made his heart ache. Not sure what else to make of this, he quietly draped his scarf over both boys, ensuring they were warm below this shade.

Leaning back, he watched the three of them quietly.

None of this made sense.

Still… it was a beautiful day, and these three who danced and played in the sun, were the very embodiment of everything he had ever wanted and more. So he let his concerns settle for now.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk mk #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #shadowpeach #xiaoxiao #taken back au

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7seas-of-ryy · 2 days ago

Text

Crestfallen - Part 5

Author’s Note: My plans got canceled last night so I ended up finishing this part earlier than expected!! Part 6 has already been started and will hopefully be out within the next 2 days! :)

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 5 Summary: After waking up, your fight has only just begun.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"I need Rhys or Feyre." You blurted.

Azriel just stared at you, looking confused yet relieved.

"Now!" You demanded once you noticed he wasn't moving.

His shadows swallowed him up taking him to find either of the two.

Feyre winnowed in with Az within moments, Rhys showing up separately quick after.

"Look in my mind" You panted, still out of breath feeling the new power thrumming through you.

Your High Lady and High Lord both looked in your mind as you replayed for them all you had been through. They saw how you were awake and felt everything. They saw how vulnerable and weak you felt. And they saw the mystery inside of you was definitely a new power.

"What was it, what power was that? I've never seen it before." Feyre muttered, confused at everything that was going on.

She was away meeting with a few other courts, Rhys had spoken to her letting her know what was going on and she came back right away. Thinking you were still unconscious, she began helping her mate research instead of visiting you. They were both holed up in the library when Az appeared bringing them here.

"I'm not sure. I can feel it but I can't access it, can't control it." You mumbled.

Az stood behind both Rhys and Feyre, watching you as if he'd seen a ghost. You noticed his staring and gave him a questioning look. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"You're awake." He stated simply.

Feyre, Rhys and you all shared a look with each other.

"It's just...you were unconscious minutes ago and Madja said we would need to figure out a treatment. And now you just...sat up and are talking to us like normal?" He elaborated.

"I don't really understand it either but I do know I was awake the entire time. I felt your shadows in my mind, I knew you were there." You uttered, "But I am still very confused on a ton of things as well."

"It was Clara.." Az mumbled.

More memories came flooding back to you. Everything Clara did replayed in your mind. You remembered the powder she blew in your face and most of all, you remembered how Az didn't believe you.

"We learned she wasn't trying to kill you. She was trying to make you sick to impress Az by helping you and making you better again." Rhys informed you.

"Oh that makes it all better, she didn't mean to almost end my life, just harm me severely. I suppose I should forgive her and pretend everything is fine." You snarled.

"I didn't say that. Cassian and Nesta are handling it right now. She will be held in the dungeon until she has served her time." Rhys told you with an understanding voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just overwhelmed right now." You apologized.

Rhys gave you a small smile and a nod, he didn't hold it against you. Feyre put her hand on your shoulder to show you she was there for you.

The pair were already thinking about this newfound power you held. They needed to make sure you were 100% alright and inform Madja about what had happened. They let you know what they were going to do and winnowed away to find the healer.

"I'm so glad you're alright. You have no idea how terrified I-" Az started to tell you.

"I have no idea how terrified you were? I was being poisoned, felt my powers draining and I told you. I told you and you didn't believe me. Do you know how scared and alone I felt?" You cut him off, "No you have no idea. I felt strands of my soul being plucked apart, venom being torn out of my very being because of her...and you...you told me my mind was playing tricks on me."

You finished your short rant with a sob, tears started to flood your face.

"I will never be able to make this up to you but I swear on my life that I will never stop trying. I am so terribly sorry for not believing you." He sobbed.

"No. I needed help, I needed you and you ignored me. Made me feel crazy. You do realize you held me down while she cut me open. I bit down on your belt while she sliced me with her blade." You cried.

Azriel was now on his knees next to the bed. His own tears matching yours, although he was not crying for himself. No, he was crying for you. Minutes past, the only sound in the room was the combination of your sobs, like a symphony of sorrows.

You sniffled, willing your tears to dry.

"You chose someone you've known for 2 weeks over someone you've known for 100 years," you croaked out, "and for that, I do not know if I can ever forgive you."

Azriel looked up into your eyes, truly realizing the extent of what he had done when the door suddenly shot open. Mor stood there looking frantic.

"There's a terrible storm outside right now. We need to take cover. The wards that are protecting this house should keep us safe but I don't want to risk anything with Y/N right now." She warned us.

"A storm?" Your confusion was evident on your face.

"Yes. Rain, thunder, lightning, tornadoes, the whole nine yards." She confirmed as she worked quickly to gather things you might need.

You tried to move from the bed but your wounds were deeper than skin level. Your soul had been wounded.

"I don't think I can move." You faltered.

"I got you." Az offered, starting to pick you up.

Quickly you flinched away from him, not wanting to be near him. There was a loud boom of thunder and you could hear the wind picking up. After hesitating a few seconds, you let him carry you out of there to a safer room with less windows.

The three of you made your way to a room downstairs and Az placed you on a couch nearby. Anxiety began to quickly consume your mind and Mor must have sensed it.

"Hey, don't worry. There's never been a storm that destroyed this house. The wards were placed by Rhys himself so we should be ok. This is just an extra safety precaution." Mor said with certainty.

You didn't think it was possible but after a couple minutes the storm seemed to pick up even more. The wind outside was so loud now you couldn't hear yourself think.

Mor sat on the floor next to you with her arm protectively over you. A loud crash could be heard and the sound of glass breaking was too close for comfort. The look on Mor's face did nothing to bring you solace.

Realization that they had never seem a storm like this hit and Az wrapped his arms around you and Mor, stretching his wings to surround the three of you.

It only lasted a couple minutes longer, then you could hear it starting to settle. Once it sounded like it was over completely, he withdrew his wings and the three of you looked around. The room you were in was untouched but you needed to check everywhere else.

"I need to go make sure everything is alright." Azriel stated.

"I'll stay here with Y/N and try to contact Rhys and Feyre." Mor told the male.

He gave her a nod and winnowed away.

"I've never seen anything like that. I can't imagine how hard the town was hit, I hope everyone is ok." Mor mumbled.

You felt what could only be described as waves going through your body. Unsure if it was anxiety or your power, you tried to calm it. Hours later, the feeling was still there and no one had shown up yet.

"I'm getting a little worried, no one is responding to me." Mor told you.

"I'll be fine, you can go find them." You reassured her.

Giving you a quick hug, she took off in search of your friends and family. She was only gone for about a half hour when she returned, her face pale.

Rhys, Feyre, and Madja were with her as well.

"Is everyone ok?" You asked hurriedly.

"Everyone is fine." Feyre whispered.

"That's a relief..." You trailed off seeing the looks on their faces.

"We need you to listen to what we say and understand that is doesn't change anything. None of us are hurt, Cass and Nesta are fine. Everything is ok." Rhys spoke calmly.

"If that's the case, why are you guys looking at me like that?" You questioned.

The four of them shared looks with each other and Feyre kneeled down next to the couch you were laying on.

"We think the storm might have been...you." She carefully informed you.

"What??" You breathed.

"We think your new power is somehow connected to the weather. Rhys noticed it first, there's no other way to explain it besides the wind felt like you. We all know you didn't do anything on purpose." Feyre continued to explain to you with a soothing voice.

"I did that?" You spoke in disbelief.

Mor tapped Rhys and looked around. They could feel the electricity in the air, another storm. This time, likely caused by the news you were recieving. They knew they needed to act fast.

"We know it's new and you can't control it. Please let me subdue your mind right now while we figure it out. If you unleash another storm, the consequences might be too severe." Rhys told you, tears forming in his eyes at seeing his friend go through this.

You agreed right away, nodding your head yes. You couldn't bare causing any more damage. Rhys gave you a small, sad smile and you could feel him at the gate in your mind, asking to be let in even though you just gave him permission.

"We will be right by your side the entire time." Feyre whispered to you.

You opened the gate for Rhys and sleep quickly took over. As soon as they were certain your mind was subdued, Mor spoke up.

"You can come out now." She announced.

Azriel walked out from his hiding place behind the door.

"I still don't agree with this." He mumbled.

"You saw what happened the last time she spoke to you. If she saw you, another storm would have been imminent." Rhys hissed at his brother.

"No I mean, I don't agree with keeping it from her. She deserved to know the truth." He retorted.

"The truth," Rhys huffed a laugh, "You think it would've been smart to tell her what actually happened? That the storm she caused destroyed many homes in town, injured over 20 civilians, and killed two of them? She's been through enough. She didn't need to hear that even if it wouldn't have caused another storm."

Azriel looked down at his shoes, guilty and crestfallen.

"We need to get to work right away. Create some kind of ward or contraption that can contain her power when we wake her up." The Night Court High Lord informed the group.

"I think I can help with that." A voice spoke suddenly from behind all of them.

They all turned to see Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court standing there.

"You know I love to make a grand entrance." He spoke with a grin.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll @chelsiemp @romantasyreader28

@kissesfromnovalie @plants-w0rld @halo-mystic @bookishbishhh

#acotar #acotar imagine #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel imagine #a court of thorns and roses #crestfallen

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pbaz7 · 3 days ago

Text

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART SIX

paige x azzi

word count: 4.7k

A/N: This is just a cute little chapter to show how much their dynamic has grown/changed. There will be a few time jumps after this because we’ll never get anywhere otherwise 😭. I love all the live reactions and comments I’ve been getting, they’re actually hilarious.

—————————————————————————

After spending the night in Paige’s room, the two of them got impossibly closer. When they woke up the next morning, Paige invited Azzi to tag along to her physical therapy session. Azzi of course agreed, and from that moment on, they spent every waking hour together for the rest of the short winter break. Whether it was in rehab, watching movies in Paige’s room, or going out for a sweet treat in the middle of the night at Azzi’s request, they became inseparable.

When they returned to UConn after Christmas, it was the exact same. It was rare to see one without the other. Both of them were sidelined with injuries, which only gave them more excuses to stay close. During games, they sat on the bench together, Paige talking Azzi’s ear off about strategy, stats, and whatever random thoughts crossed her mind. Azzi didn’t mind; she found Paige’s rambling endearing, even when it meant missing part of the game on the court.

Off the bench, they poured themselves into helping the team however they could. They watched hours of film together, analyzing plays and finding ways to improve their teammates’ performance with so many of them sidelined with injuries. Huddled around a laptop in the locker room or sprawled out on the floor of Paige’s dorm, their heads often ended up leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. Neither pulled away.

Neither of them brought up the new dynamic between them. It was like there was a silent agreement to ignore the feelings simmering just beneath the surface. They told themselves it was easier this way, to focus on recovery and basketball. But the excuses only went so far.

Their stolen glances during film sessions lasted a second too long. The casual touches—Paige nudging Azzi’s knee when she made a good point, or Azzi grabbing Paige’s forearm to drag her somewhere or emphasize her own thoughts—left feelings between both of them. Paige’s heart raced every time Azzi’s hand lingered on hers, while Azzi found herself melting into a puddle by the way Paige’s voice softened when they were alone. A softness she only seemed to have for Azzi.

Still, they stayed in the safe lane of ‘friendship’ burying their feelings beneath layers of banter and shared routines. To them that seemed to work but to anyone else looking at their dynamic it definitely seemed like they were in a relationship. The two of them basically teased and flirted with one another nonstop.

January 2022

Today was no different. They were currently on the road, heading back to Connecticut after taking a quick trip to see Paige’s surgeon for her check-up. The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of music playing from the speakers. Paige was driving, her hands relaxed on the wheel, and Azzi was trying her best to focus on anything but her.

It wasn’t easy. Azzi wasn’t used to seeing Paige behind the wheel—usually, she was the passenger, sprawled out and carefree. But now that Paige could drive she insisted on doing it every time and Azzi could never stop glancing over at her. The way Paige’s jawline looked when she would clinch it at someone doing something stupid in front of her, the subtle furrow of her brow as she concentrated on the road, or, worst of all, the way her long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles flexing slightly.

Azzi swallowed hard, her thoughts wandering somewhere they absolutely shouldn’t be. She blinked, forcing herself to look straight ahead, but her gaze betrayed her almost immediately, drifting back to the blonde.

Paige caught her. She glanced over, catching Azzi’s lingering stare, and a slow smirk spread across her face. “What?” Paige asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Azzi groaned at being caught, throwing her head back against the seat. “Stop driving like that.”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and teasing as she gave her a quick side glance. “Like what, Azzi?”

Azzi waved her arms in Paige’s direction, clearly flustered. “Like that! You know what you’re doing.”

Paige grinned wider, unable to hide how much she was enjoying this. “I’m literally just driving. You’re the one making it weird.”

Azzi let out a frustrated noise, crossing her arms and slouching slightly in her seat. “No, you’re doing something. I don’t know what, but it’s distracting.”

Paige chuckled, shifting her grip on the wheel—whether to mess with Azzi or just to adjust, Azzi couldn’t tell, but it didn’t help. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but this is how I always drive. Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

Paige glanced over briefly, her smirk softening into something more playful. “Yeah, but you clearly like it.”

Azzi huffed, turning her gaze out the window to avoid giving Paige the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. But her resolve didn’t last long. Her eyes betrayed her, flickering back to Paige’s hands on the steering wheel. The way her fingers flexed just slightly, the grip firm and sure—it was ridiculous how something so mundane could have Azzi’s thoughts spiraling.

Paige caught her again, and her smirk deepened. “Are you seriously doing it again dude?”

Azzi groaned, slouching in her seat. “Oh my God, stop.”

“Stop what?” Paige asked innocently, purposefully shifting her grip on the wheel, her fingers flexing just a little more dramatically this time.

Azzi covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled as she muttered, “I hate you so much.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and teasing. “No, you don’t.” She shifted her hands again, dragging the moment out, clearly enjoying Azzi’s growing frustration.

“Paige,” Azzi warned, her voice low, though it lacked any real bite.

“What?” Paige asked, feigning innocence as she glanced over at her. “I’m just driving.”

Azzi groaned, leaning back in her seat. “Oh my God, just stop. Why do you even drive like that?”

“Like what?” Paige asked innocently.

Azzi let out a frustrated noise and covered her face with her hands. “You’re doing it on purpose now. I know you are.”

Paige chuckled, her laugh warm and teasing. “Maybe.” She then switched driving hands as she dropped her right hand from the wheel, letting it fall casually onto Azzi’s leg.

Azzi froze, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers rested just above her knee, her touch light but deliberate. Her wide eyes snapped to Paige, who kept her gaze firmly on the road, her smirk now bordering on a full grin.

“What are you doing?” Azzi demanded, her voice higher than she intended.

Paige shrugged, her tone casual. “Nothing. Just resting my hand. Relax.”

Azzi’s hands shot up in disbelief, gesturing toward the offending hand on her leg. “Relax? Are you kidding me? Move your hand before you crash!”

Paige laughed, giving her thigh the faintest squeeze before replying, “I’m not gonna crash from touching your leg, Azzi. Chill.”

Azzi groaned, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before snapping, “Fine! Move it before I lose my mind.”

Paige’s laugh deepened as she finally slid her hand back to the wheel. “You’re so easy to mess with.”

Azzi groaned, slumping into her seat and covering her face again. “I hate you. I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replied, glancing over with a playful glint in her eye. “Admit it, you like when I mess with you.”

Azzi huffed but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading across her face—or the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Paige smirked, her confidence only growing. “I’m not the one having a heart attack over getting their leg touched.”

Azzi glared at her but couldn’t fight the laugh bubbling out. She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “I’m going to lose my mind before we get back to Connecticut.”

Paige glanced at her again, the teasing replaced with something softer, though her smirk lingered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” she murmured, her voice quieter but no less bold.

Azzi bit her lip, forcing herself to look out the window again, but she couldn’t hide the way her cheeks burned—or the way her heart raced whenever Paige pushed her buttons just like this.

…

The teasing had died down as the miles stretched on, replaced by a comfortable silence. Azzi was staring out the window, watching the trees blur past, but her mind was thinking about any and everything related to the girl sitting next to her. She glanced at Paige, her jaw set in quiet concentration as she navigated the highway. Finally, Azzi broke the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, glancing over briefly. “Yeah, of course.”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Why did everyone used to be so worried about you? I remember hearing stuff, but no one really explained. And when I started going with you it was never that bad so why’d they make it such a big deal before?”

Paige’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. She let out a slow breath, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “That’s... kind of a long-ish story.”

Azzi turned toward her, leaning slightly against the door. “We’ve got time.” Her voice was soft, no pressure, just genuine curiosity.

Paige laughed lightly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Okay, but you can’t freak out, it was a long time ago, alright?”

Azzi frowned but nodded. “Alright.”

Paige shifted in her seat, adjusting her grip on the wheel. “It was after the Final Four. A couple of weeks after we lost. I just... wasn’t in a good place. I blamed myself for everything—every missed shot, every mistake. It felt like I let everyone down. So, I did what I always do. I locked myself in the gym.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed. “For how long?”

Paige shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “A couple of days, maybe?I didn’t realize I wasn’t really eating or drinking water. Just working out, watching film, shooting until I couldn’t stand anymore.” She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Literally.”

Azzi’s stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Evina found me passed out,” Paige admitted quietly, her voice almost lost under the hum of the car. “It was just dehydration and not eating enough, nothing serious. But after that, everyone started treating me like I was fragile or something.”

Azzi stared at her, the air catching in her throat. “Paige...”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Paige said quickly, waving it off. “Dehydration, low blood sugar—nothing serious.”

“That is serious,” Azzi countered, her tone sharp with concern.

Paige shrugged, a faint bitterness in her smile. “Maybe. But at the time, it felt like I deserved it, you know? I wasn’t happy, Az. Not with basketball, not with myself. I basically hated myself. It was like... no matter how much time I spent in the gym, it didn’t make up for how I felt. I just wanted to work hard enough to forget, but instead, I ended up running myself into the ground.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed as she processed Paige’s words. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Paige let out a soft laugh. “Who? Tell them what? That I couldn’t handle the pressure? That I felt like a failure? Everyone was looking at me to bounce back, to lead, to be Paige Bueckers. I couldn’t let them see me crack.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper. “I felt so alone. Like no one understood what I was going through. So I didn’t talk to anyone and just spent my days in the gym.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. “Paige, that’s... I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you went through all of that by yourself.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Paige murmured. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can just explain to people.”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but Paige spoke first. “My knee’s starting to ache a little.” She glanced at Azzi, her tone lighter but her eyes searching. “There’s a diner at the next exit. Let’s stop for a bit.”

Azzi frowned slightly, sensing something beneath the excuse, but nodded. “Yeah, okay. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I just... want to sit for a bit. And, you know, look at you while we talk instead of staring at the road.”

Azzi felt her cheeks warm at the admission but said nothing as Paige took the exit.

Once they were seated in a quiet booth at the corner of the diner, Azzi finally spoke. “I didn’t know it was that bad for you.”

Paige stirred her water with her straw, her expression contemplative. “I didn’t either, not at first. I thought I could handle it. But looking back... I was just running from how I felt.” She glanced up at Azzi, her eyes soft. “You know what I mean?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yes actually. When I tore my ACL, I thought my career was over. I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone go to rehab. My parents practically had to drag me out of the house some days and force me to shower. I felt like I’d never be the same player again, like I let everyone down. It was... dark for a while.”

Paige leaned forward to let Azzi know she was listening. “How did you get through it?”

Azzi shrugged. “Time, mostly. And people not giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself. But it’s still hard, you know? Some days, it still feels like the world’s too heavy to carry.”

Paige nodded, her gaze steady on Azzi. “Yeah. I get that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind where neither of them felt the need to fill the space. Paige finally broke it with a soft laugh. “You’re really easy to talk to, you know that?”

Azzi smiled, her eyes warm. “So are you.”

As they sat there, the hum of the diner around them, Paige felt a strange sense of peace settle over her.

The conversation deepened as they sat in the quiet corner of the diner, their voices low but steady. Paige found herself opening up about things she hadn’t thought about in years, things she’d never told anyone else—her childhood, her family, the moments that shaped her love for basketball. Azzi listened intently, chiming in with her own stories. They talked for hours and didn’t even notice.

“You were a troublemaker as a kid, huh?” Paige teased, leaning back in the booth.

Azzi grinned. “Not trouble, exactly. I just had... energy. My mom says I never sat still, which is probably why sports were the only thing that worked for me.”

Paige smirked. “Explains a lot.”

Azzi nudged her foot under the table. “And you? Let me guess—perfect student, teacher’s pet, MVP of the kickball team?”

Paige chuckled. “Something like that. I always wanted to be the best at everything, even if it didn’t matter. Like, who cares if you’re the fastest at spelling quizzes?”

“Apparently you did,” Azzi teased, her smile softening. “That competitive streak must’ve made you fun to grow up with.”

Paige shrugged, her tone turning reflective. “It was a lot of pressure, though. Some of it I put on myself, but a lot came from... expectations. Like, if I wasn’t the best, what was the point?”

Azzi nodded in understanding. “I get that. I think that’s why I struggled so much after my injury. For so long, basketball was who I was. When I couldn’t play, it felt like I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what to do day in and day out.”

Paige reached across the table, her fingers brushing Azzi’s hand briefly before she pulled back. “I’m really glad you didn’t give up.”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “Me too.”

Their waiter approached, setting down Azzi’s dessert—a large slice of chocolate cake with a swirl of whipped cream on top. Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “Of course you’d order that.”

Azzi picked up her fork with a grin. “What can I say? I’m predictable.” She took a bite, humming in satisfaction before holding a forkful out toward Paige. “Here, try it.”

Paige wrinkled her nose. “You’re always trying to get me to eat sugar.”

“Because it’s not as fun when I have to eat it by myself,” Azzi shot back, waving the fork in front of her. “C’mon, just one bite. It’s really good.”

Paige sighed dramatically but leaned forward, letting Azzi feed her the bite of cake. She chewed, her face carefully neutral before finally swallowing. “Okay, fine. It’s good.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back triumphantly. “Told you.”

When the check came, Paige didn’t give Azzi a chance to reach for her wallet. She slid her card into the leather folder and handed it to the waiter without a word.

Azzi arched a brow. “You never even let me try to pay for anything.”

Paige shrugged, standing up and grabbing her coat. “You’ll get the next one.”

“Next one?” Azzi echoed, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “Unless this is the last road trip we ever take together?”

Azzi shook her head, laughing as they headed back to the car. The air outside was crisp, but Paige felt warm, the lingering glow of their conversation following her as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Azzi settled in beside her, glancing over as Paige started the engine. “You know,” she said softly, “I like this.”

Paige glanced at her. “What?”

“This,” Azzi said, gesturing between them. “Whatever this is. Us just... being.”

Paige smiled, her heart full in a way she couldn’t quite put into words. “Yeah. Me too.”

…

By the time they pulled into the parking lot in Connecticut, the car was silent except for the low hum of the engine. Azzi was sound asleep, her head resting gently against the window, her breaths slow and even. Paige turned off the car and let herself sit for a moment, her eyes drifting over to Azzi. She took in the way the soft moonlight highlighted her features, her peaceful expression making Paige’s chest tighten.

Paige smiled to herself, leaning back in her seat. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered under her breath, the words barely audible.

Reaching out, Paige gently ran her hand down the side of Azzi’s face, her fingers brushing her cheek lightly. The touch caused Azzi to stir, her brows furrowing as she slowly blinked awake.

“Hey,” Paige said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re back.”

Azzi stretched slightly, her movements sluggish as she tried to wake herself up. Eventually Paige stepped out of the car, walking around to Azzi’s door. She opened it, leaning in with a teasing smile. “Come on before I carry you.”

Azzi snorted, her voice still thick with sleep. “Paige, you can’t carry me.”

Paige scoffed, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. “Oh, really?”

Before Azzi could protest, Paige slid one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, lifting her out of the car with surprising ease. Azzi squealed, grabbing onto Paige’s shoulders. “Put me down!” she yelped, her voice pitching higher than usual.

Paige grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “What’s wrong? I thought you said I couldn’t carry you.”

“Paige, your knee!” Azzi scolded, trying to sound serious but failing as laughter bubbled out. “You just got cleared to play again—don’t go ruining it!”

Paige hummed in thought at the mention of being cleared to play. “Hmm...”

“No,” Azzi interrupted, narrowing her eyes even as she laughed.

“Pleaseee?” Paige said, dragging the word out dramatically, her smile widening as she put Azzi down gently onto the pavement.

Azzi groaned, but there was no real annoyance in it. “You’re literally insane,” she muttered, already knowing where this was heading.

“Come on Az please,” Paige pressed, her tone playful but pleading.

Azzi sighed, finally relenting. “Fine,” she said, shaking her head. “But you’re getting my shoes.”

Paige’s face lit up like she’d won a championship. “Deal!”

Azzi chuckled, turning back toward the car to get back in the passenger seat. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight you on this.”

Paige didn’t respond, already jogging toward the suite with a bounce in her step. “I’ll be right back!” she called over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite herself. “She’s gonna be the death of me,” she muttered, getting back in the car as Paige ran inside to grab their basketball shoes, her energy contagious even in the middle of the night.

…

If Azzi didn’t know any better, she’d think Paige was on something. The blonde had been in the gym for hours, bouncing off the walls with energy, clearly ecstatic to be freely shooting a basketball again—even if she wasn’t cleared for contact.

Azzi, on the other hand, was drained. She’d given up about thirty minutes ago, peeling off her basketball shoes and resigning herself to sitting on the floor, watching Paige’s every move. She leaned back on her hands, her chest rising and falling steadily as she caught her breath. Her eyes following Paige darting around the court, making shot after shot, her smile brighter than the overhead light they had turned on.

Eventually, Paige bounded over to her and, without warning, dramatically sprawled across Azzi’s lap, her sweaty body pressing against Azzi’s.

Azzi groaned, trying for annoyance but failing as her lips curved into a small smile. “Ew, Paige, you’re sweaty.” She didn’t, however, make any effort to push her off.

Paige grinned up at her, clearly unbothered. “Alright, I think I’m done.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. “Oh wow, it only took three hours. Truly a miracle.”

Paige laughed softly, her smile warm and unguarded as she looked up at Azzi. Something in her expression softened, and for a moment, the only sound was their steady breathing.

Azzi hesitated, her chest tightening as she gazed down at Paige. She reached out instinctively, brushing a strand of sweaty hair out of Paige’s face. Her fingers lingered for a second before she spoke, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “I really love your eyes.”

Paige blinked as her cheeks flushed faintly as her grin softened into something more genuine. “I love your smile,” she murmured, her voice steady but low, like it was meant just for Azzi.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them hung with unspoken emotions. Paige’s expression was completely open, her gaze searching Azzi’s as if she were trying to commit every detail of her face to memory.

The closeness sent Azzi’s heart racing, the feeling so intense it almost overwhelmed her. So she quickly pushed Paige off her lap and stood up, clearing her throat. “Come on,” she said, trying to mask the flustered edge in her voice.

Paige smiled to herself as she got up and followed Azzi. But instead of heading toward the gym’s front doors and her car, she grabbed Azzi’s hand, intertwining their fingers and tugging her in the opposite direction.

Azzi groaned lightly, though she didn’t pull away. “Where are we going now, Paige?”

Paige glanced back, her grin teasing.

“We’re gonna watch the sunrise.”

Azzi stopped complaining immediately, her curiosity piqued as Paige led her to the elevator.

When they reached the rooftop, the early morning air hit them, but Azzi immediately vetoed going outside. “No you’re gonna get us sick,” she scolded. “We’re sweaty, and it’s freezing.”

Paige laughed but didn’t argue, following Azzi to a spot by the glass windows that offered a perfect view of the sky. They sat down side by side, the first light of dawn spilling through the panes and casting a soft glow over them.

Azzi rested her head on Paige’s shoulder, her body relaxing into the blonde. She reached for Paige’s hand, her fingers lightly playing with Paige’s in an absentminded gesture that felt far more intimate than either of them acknowledged.

They watched in silence as the sky gradually brightened, the world slowly coming alive with shades of pink, purple, and gold.

Paige turned her head slightly, resting her cheek against Azzi’s hair. “Thanks for coming with me today,” she said softly, her voice low and sincere.

Azzi tilted her head up to meet Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a small smile. “Always.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, letting the moment stretch until the sun fully broke the horizon, casting its warm light over them.

Eventually, as the last traces of night faded and the sun rose higher into the sky, Paige sighed and stretched. “Well, I guess we should go finally get some sleep.”

Azzi agreed, lifting her head off Paige’s shoulder and standing up. Paige followed suit, and the two of them walked back toward the elevator, hands still lingering together.

Once they were back in the car, the drive to Paige’s dorm was quiet, the peacefulness of the morning lingering between them. By the time they arrived, the exhaustion from their trip hit them all at once.

They both took quick showers, Azzi finding herself some clothes in Paige’s drawer while Paige showered.

Paige slumped onto her bed, pulling the covers up. Azzi followed suit, crawling under the blankets next to her.

As the lights went off, the silence of the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing. Despite the exhaustion, neither of them wanted to drift off just yet. They exchanged a glance, a small smile shared between them, as they settled into the warmth of the bed.

"Goodnight, Az," Paige whispered, her voice gentle but filled with something deeper, something unspoken.

Azzi smiled softly, closing her eyes. "Goodnight, Paige."

…

A week or so later, Paige was sitting in the training room, her legs stretched out on the bench as she scrolled through her phone. Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes lighting up as she read whatever was on her screen.

Evina, who was seated across from her, noticed immediately and let out a laugh. “What’s got you all smiley over there?”

Paige glanced up, caught off guard but unable to wipe the grin off her face. “It’s nothing,” she said, her tone too casual to be convincing. She glanced back at her phone before quickly adding, “Azzi just sent me something. She’s on her way now.”

Evina raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. She’d been waiting for an opening like this. “Speaking of Azzi, what’s going on with you two?”

Paige froze, her fingers halting mid-scroll. “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance, but the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her.

Evina leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she gave Paige a knowing look. “Come on, Paige. You two are pretty close now. Like, real close.”

Paige let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “Nah, she’s just like... my best friend now,” she said, her voice a little too quick and defensive.

Evina wasn’t buying it. She tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Paige, be fucking for real,” she said, her tone teasing but firm.

Before Paige could respond, the door to the training room opened, and Azzi walked in. She headed straight for Paige without hesitation, a warm smile on her face as she leaned down to wrap her arms around the blonde in a quick but affectionate hug.

Paige blushed even deeper under Evina’s gaze, her hands lingering a second too long on Azzi’s back before she pulled away.

Evina smirked, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed. “Wow,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “No love for Mama E?”

Azzi laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she turned to Evina. “Alright, alright,” she said, walking over to give her a quick side hug. “You happy now?”

Evina shook her head with a grin, glancing pointedly between the two of them. “Oh, I’m very happy. This is way better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in her hands, while Azzi, not really knowing the context, just chuckled and perched herself on the bench next to her.

Evina wasn’t about to let up, but Paige shot her a pleading look, mouthing, Don’t. Evina raised her hands in mock surrender, but the mischievous twinkle in her eye promised this conversation wasn’t over.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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