#i need them to hate each other and love each other and be each other's everything

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

��I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[piper-2244]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[vamptizm]

NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

[backtothefanfiction]

Reading this just made me feel more proud of my writing abilities and reminded me of some of my favourite sex scenes I have ever written and it has really made me want to highlight them for you and why I love them so much.

Each one of these scenes is so completely different from one another, showing the true depths of the characters within them as they use these acts of intimacy to really help develop and flesh out who the characters are both as individuals and as partners. Each scene has a different need to be fulfilled and emotions to be shared and I am so incredibly proud of each one of them.

Angel In The Garden of Evil Chapter 19: Wash It Away

A mob!au Peter Parker Story

The intimacy of this scene coming as a conclusion for all the characters have been through not just during the story as you the reader reads it but also all the history they have together. It’s oddly sweet and tender as he takes the time to carry her into the house, to wash her in the shower and show her how much she really means to him. To literally wash away the old before they make love and bring in the new. It’s almost a whole cycle of life, death and rebirth moment. It’s the deep longing connection of husband and wife and how some loves just endure despite their tribulations.

Make Me Forget

Amazing Spider-Man Peter Parker x Harry Osborn Imagine (part two of crushed)

Running to the one person you shouldn’t to make the hurt go away. Asking your now ex boyfriends best friend to take you as his own after he rescued you from your abuser and asking them to claim you as their own and show you how to be treated right. To kiss away every hurt. To rewrite every touch on your body. It’s both painful and yet beautiful and hopeful and healing.

Nothing Ever Good Happens After 2am

A Joel Miller Story (Part 3 of the Insecure Series)

This is hate fucking at its finest. There’s so much tension and history and anger for both the past and present. Although so familiar with one another’s bodies they instinctively reach for each other due to that familiarity, but there is no resemblance of the way they once fucked to how they do now. The way they know each others bodies so well they can weaponise them against each other to do even more damage, leaving neither of them fully satisfied in the end and the act in fact only works to make their situation worse just feels heartbreaking on everyone, characters and readers alike. It’s short and to the point and makes me so proud.

What Benny Doesn’t Know Chapter 5

Frankie’s story

This is all about toxic love. It’s all the things well accepted when we are blinded by love. Overlooking the glaring problems just so you can be with them. Accepting their lies and bad behaviour. It’s doing drugs in the middle of the act. It’s cheating on partners. It is love and pain and longing and finally getting what you want but it’s at the wrong moment in the timelines and destined to fail from the second it started. Although a fun read and a wild time, the emotional weight and lessons for the reader also really shine through and I will always be proud of how I chose to handle this one, both for the characters and the over all story and it’s development.

the secret to writing good smut that doesn't feel like you're just repeating the same words for junk and fucking over and over is to spend your effort writing about everything happening around the sex and everything happening inside the heads of the people having sex and before you know it you have four paragraphs of introspection and two paragraphs describing the space and it's okay to use the word cock again

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

i need some smut with all of the diasomnia members

(AFAB! reader will be appreciated or if it has a breeding kink if not then its okay since anything you create is insanely good)

love ur work btw one of my favorite creators here also don’t mind the hate comments they just don’t like peace or happiness. Stay hydrated and have a good day!!

I turned off Anon-asks because of the people who can’t speak respectfully, but tysm! Also, I am ~95% sure that you wanted all of the Diasomnia members together…? However, I felt a bit weird about it since their relationship is a lot like family, so I changed it a bit.

Warnings: AFAB!Reader who uses She/Her pronouns, Polyamory, Breeding, Sebek whimpers, Cunnilingus/Oral (Reader Receiving), Overstimulation, Aftercare.

Diasomnia

It had been a few months since you entered this… new relationship with the Diasomnia crew. 

Basically, it all started when each of them realized that they had feelings for you, despite you dating Silver, and Silver was more than alright with sharing. However, due to the conflict of relationships, you all agreed that you would not lay in bed together.

After all: Despite no one being blood-related, it was still weird.

Anyway, this week was a rough week for everyone, with Malleus being forgotten from a meeting; Sebek, you, and Silver having had to study a bunch for upcoming tests and exams; and Lilia being sad that Malleus did not have an heir yet.

In other words, everyone needed some relief, and you were more than willing to spread your legs and welcome them. 

However… This time, there was a twist. 

~~~~~~~~

Silver went first. After all, he was very close to falling asleep, and he was probably going to be the most gentle with you. A warm-up, if you will.

He knelt on the floor, bringing you to the edge of the bed as he tongue-fucked you, his teeth grazing lightly on your clit before he grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders. The touch grounded him, reminding him to stay awake. Your scent nearly made him high.

Drawing another orgasm from you, his grip tightened to hold you still as his face became covered in your juices. He moaned a bit at your taste, the vibrations of his voice making you writhe even more under his grasp. 

However, he soon felt his eyes growing heavy, so he pulled away from your dripping cunt to tag in Sebek. ~~~~~~~~

To say that you were overstimulated would be an understatement, especially since Sebek’s size was nothing to laugh at. He mounted you, and thanks to Silver, he slid right in.

Before you, he was a total virgin, and he was still learning the ropes around sex, but his desperate thrusts and whimpers were more than enough to make your brain melt from the pleasure he was giving you.

However, no matter how desperate he was, it was a rule between the five of you that Malleus was the only one allowed to come inside you… so when Sebek got close, he pulled out and stroked himself to finish all over your back. 

Before he left to head to bed, he grabbed a warm towel to help prepare you for Malleus. After all, the incoming Prince needs the best, right?

~~~~~~~~

Malleus was, by far, the largest size you have ever taken.

He always had you in a mating press, always wanting to be able to see your beautiful face as he gently thrusted into you. Actually, it was more like rutting. His entire shaft didn’t fit in all the way, as he only ever managed to fit half of it all at once.

You were the louder one out of the two of you, especially as he sank his fangs into your neck to muffle his grunts. The pretty noises you made would always be his favorite to hear, and he wouldn’t be able to hear them if he was making any unnecessary noises. When he neared his finish, he stilled inside you as he filled you up, painting your insides white with thick cum. Then, he put a pillow under your hips to ensure that nothing spilled. After all, an heir needed to be produced, right?

~~~~~~~~

Lilia… he surprisingly had no need to get off. He knew you were tuckered out, and he didn’t feel that insatiable urge for sex as much as he used to back in his younger days.

As he cleaned you up with a warm cloth, he giggled at your blissed out expression.

“You know, dearie… The Briar Valley Queen would love to meet you soon… especially since you will be carrying Malleus’s heir very soon.” You thought about his words, smiling softly and nodding. “Perhaps… over the next Winter Break… I may go with you all? I have heard many things about Her Majesty, and I would love to meet her as well.” Lilia was happy to know that you did not have much of an issue with the situation. He thought that you would have an issue with having to carry a dragon’s heir, but you seemed very excited about the thought of becoming a mother. “You shall make an excellent mother, my dear.. We are very excited to be with you on the rewarding, mind-changing journey that is pregnancy.”

Soon, your eyelids started growing heavier and heavier, and the sweet abyss that is called ‘sleep’ started taking over.

“Goodnight, lovely. See you in the morning.”

[cuntdevil]

EVERYTHING I AM (IT BELONGS TO YOU) • NANAMI KENTO

wiki statistics _ 783 words & suggestive content !

Sometimes you heavily pained him. Pulling away from his touch and denying him of what’s rightfully his. You. 

He hates to say it like that, but isn’t it so? You are his, and him you? Four trifling years in office and four more to come. Five years hiding what the two of you are, and perhaps the rest of his life with you. Why did you continue to push him away? All those nights, all those times he held you naked in his arms. You told him you loved him. What are you so afraid of? "Every fragment of my being is in your possession, and you wish to throw it away because of your fears? Look who's the coward now!"

"Don't call me a coward!" you retorted, voice raising as your heels clicked against the tile, stomping through the office. You spin on your heel, eyes lowering as you point at you. “Don’t you dare call me a coward when I’m looking out for your best interests!”

"If you were really looking out for my best interests, then you’d know it’s you!” His voice gets deeper when he shouts, booming across the room. You’ve gotten so accustomed to it that you no longer flinch. “If you really care, you know I'd resign as president right now. We'll finally have everything we've ever desired."

"Everything you've ever desired," you correct him, turning your back on him. Standing at his desk, you reach for a pile of documents stacked. You needed something to occupy yourself, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

"Are you saying you don't want me?" his voice lowers, rumbling against his chest as it grows raspy. You can feel him behind you, his body heat bouncing off his chest. His arms snaking around you, pulling you close to him as his lips ghost against the shell of your ear. His breath comforts you as you feel shame in the way you melt into him. 

You breathe, eyes shutting. "No—"

"It sounds like it," he whispers, thumb rubbing circles underneath your buttoned-up blouse, riding up from under your dress pants. You and him both know that he’s won this game this time around. His head dips into the crevice of your neck, blonde tufts of hair tickling your skin as he plants a chaste kiss against you. 

"Stop putting words in my mouth," your voice gets airy as his hands get more daring. 

"I'm not,” he responds. “I'm interpreting their meaning. Say it."

"Say what?" 

"Say you don't want me."

"Kento—" Finally, you gain the strength to pull away from his touch, hands slipping out from under your shirt, already missing the loss on how they cupped your breasts.

"Say it," he repeats, getting more stern with you. He wants to prove a point. He knows you won’t say it. 

"Stop your bullshit," you sneer when he tries reaching for you again, pushing away his hand.

"Say it!" he barks, making you take a step back. And when you don’t say anything. He smirks, a snort leaving him. "What are you so afraid of, huh?"

He takes slow, menacing steps. Your back hitting the desk hard as he traps you. “You want me—” his head dipping to ghost your lips. Both his and your eyes in search of each other’s lips. “—I know you do. Just give in.”

"You’re throwing away everything you've worked for,” you say, just barely above a whisper. You shake your head, trying to deter Nanami from making the worst decision ever. “Everything I worked for."

"And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but…" Nanami shrugs. Being the center of the country, it had its perks, but of the four years in office, he’s come to dread it more than anything. He wanted to call it quits. "This is a lousy job."

You don’t say anything, leaving Nanami to lean down. His lips peppering kisses on the corner of yours before capturing them with a deep intensity. "I love you."

"I love you, too.” It’s as though your lips move automatically, but you don’t regret it. Your chest rises and falls from the kiss, eyes dilating as you’re already drunk off of his lips. You love him. You do love him. 

"Repeat that for me," he whispers, the words never failing to make his knees buckle. 

"You've been wanting me to say a lot of stuff for you today," you chuckle, trying to make a joke out of his sincerity. 

"____.” He pulls away, looking into your eyes sternly. "Just tell me how much you love me.""I love you, Nanami,” you repeat with the fervor needed, saying it with pure genuinity. “I love you a lot."

( author's note. ) if y'all have watched scandal or have seen the tik toks, you know what i was aiming at.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, slight angst if you squint, emetephobia warning

a/n - hi!! it’s odd for me to post two days in a row, so try not to get used to it! i just already had this written and wanted to share it so baddd. hope yall enjoy! also, this is unedited so once again, im begging, lmk if there’s any mistakes. and ofc tell me what you think!!

To be honest, Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect when they put their plan in motion. She and Paige had gone over the logistics, sure, but they’d only really skimmed over how they’d act in public, and whether they’d hold hands, and what kind of flirty things they’d say to each other. Azzi sort of regrets her decision to let Paige lead the way, because that makes her feel like she’s going into this blind, with no idea of how Paige is going to act when they’re together now. No idea of how things are going to change.

It is only the morning after their movie night, and here is what Azzi has learned so far:

For one, Paige doesn’t actually seem to be that big on hand-holding. The only time she held Azzi’s hand last night was when she led her to the doorway once the night was over, waving their joined hands goodbye to their friends.

Paige does, however, seem to be big on basically everything else.

Once the girls were done gushing and celebrating and asking (very invasive) questions, they’d all decided on some horror movie they’d seen the trailer for. Azzi hates horror movies and she guesses this is probably the reason why Paige advocated so hard to watch one. Because as soon as they turned the lights off and the scary intro music started, Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her flush against her side. They stayed this way for around ten minutes before Paige claimed she had to use the restroom, but before she left, she kissed Azzi’s head and mumbled, “Don’t get too scared while I’m gone, baby,” into her ear. Azzi had swallowed thickly and nodded, and pretended not to notice Jana wiggling her eyebrows at her.

When the first real jumpscare happened, and Azzi screamed along with a few of the other girls, Paige chuckled quietly and leaned down to whisper, “You’re such a baby about this kinda stuff, Az.” Azzi had reacted how she normally would, slapping Paige on the arm and rolling her eyes, defending herself with a, “Shut up, I know you’re scared, too.” But what wasn’t normal was the way Paige fondly shook her head and nuzzled her cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss there, and then leaned back up to pull Azzi into her side once more, this time protectively. Azzi swore she could hear her own heart racing for a solid five minutes afterwards. It didn’t help that KK had looked back at them and said, “Aw, y’all grossing me out with how cute you are,” before turning back to the movie. Paige had snickered. Azzi had taken a deep breath, which did nothing to help with her composure.

Almost an hour into the movie, Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh and squeezed, and she didn’t give Azzi any time to tame the fire in her belly before leaning into her ear once more and whispering, “You’re so stiff. You gotta chill,” and so, tamping down the need to cross her legs, Azzi’d obeyed and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

At some point or another, she must’ve fallen asleep there, because all she remembers after that is a gentle pressure on her shoulder, jostling her softly, and a voice from her dreams saying, “Az, it’s late, we gotta go. Time to wake up, baby,” and Azzi opened her eyes to find Paige sitting beside her, giving her this look that Azzi had only ever caught glimpses of, and it was so soft she had to shut her eyes again.

“Thought we were sleeping over,” Azzi mumbled, stretching and then turning onto her side, realizing vaguely that somebody must’ve thrown a blanket over her.

“Nah, I figured we better sleep in an actual bed tonight.” Paige stroked back a strand of Azzi’s hair with incredible tenderness before taking her by the waist and hefting her into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll take you to mine, okay?”

Azzi had nodded sleepily, and had let Paige say all their goodnights while she hung off her arm with lidded eyes. Even in her half-sleep state, she didn’t miss the way the girls elbowed each other and gave knowing glances.

Now, Azzi stares at Paige, who lays sleeping just next to her, hair all splayed out and mouth hanging open. Azzi smiles softly at her. She and Paige have slept in the same bed hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, but this is different, because Azzi is allowing herself to pretend that it is. She imagines reaching out and waking Paige the same way Paige woke her last night, gently and lovingly, and then sharing a lazy morning together as a couple where they joke about morning breath and talk about their plans and hold each other.

But Paige grumbles, then shifts and blinks her eyes open, rubbing them a little before finding Azzi laying next to her. She smiles, but it’s not the same smile from last night—it’s not that tender, adoring smile, but rather the one Azzi is used to—the wide, toothy, beautiful but friendly one. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” Azzi mumbles, her indulgent fantasy broken, and she reminds herself just how careful she’ll have to be while she and Paige are doing this. She cannot allow herself too many delusions, cannot let her imagination run wild with the idea that their act is real. She cannot let herself get burned by this.

“You kept stealing the blankets last night.”

Azzi lies onto her back to avoid eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. “No, Paige, you were taking up the entire bed.”

“Cap,” Paige says, shoving her shoulder. Rough, friendly. Sisterly.

It’s silent for a second and then Paige turns onto her side. “Hey.” Azzi can feel her eyes burning into the side of her head. “We did pretty good last night, yeah? We seemed super in love and shit?”

Azzi doesn’t chance a glance over, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “Yeah, P,” she agrees. “We did.”

——————————————

Finals come far too fast.

The last month of school is always hectic, and this year has been no different—Azzi’s spent the vast majority of her time studying, drinking her nostalgia away with friends, and then more studying on top of that.

Oh, and pretending to be in a committed relationship with Paige. That too.

Some days are easier than others—it’s not like they’re being forced to undress each other in front of an audience or anything. They haven’t even had to utilize pet names much. But it’s still…different. So different. Paige was touchy-feely with Azzi even before they started ‘dating’, so now, if they ever sit more than an inch apart or walk somewhere without wrapping their arms around each other, they get strange glances from their friends. A couple mornings ago, they were so hungover that they forgot about their whole act, and when they’d stumbled out of Paige’s room and began making breakfast without so much as a word to each other, KK had abrasively asked if their was ‘trouble in paradise’. Paige was all over her the rest of the day. After two weeks, Azzi is starting to get used to it.

At least they haven’t had to kiss. They haven’t even discussed it, and Azzi has been specifically avoiding that topic of conversation. She knows herself well enough to know that she can’t kiss her best friend and act normal about it.

Later, Azzi will curse herself for thinking this without knocking on wood after.

“So, we all know the rules of the game?”

“KK—“

“Girl, just answer the question!”

A pause, and then a bored chorus of yes’es.

“Yay!” With a big, tipsy smile on her face, KK places the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

Paige groans and rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “KK, this is so fuckin’ lame.”

“For real!” Ice says from a few spots down. “We’re not in middle school.”

KK waves them off. “Girl, boo. Y’all are the lame ones. This‘ll be so much fun, you’ll be thanking me after.”

Everyone starts to groan in response to this, but Caroline, ever the mom, speaks up. “C’mon, guys, just play KK’s game.”

Unable to really say no to Caroline, the group shuts up. KK smiles excitedly. “Now that’s what I like to hear! Thank you, Carol.”

Azzi brings her hand up to rest on Paige’s back, and she’s proud that it almost comes naturally now, like her body knows that’s just what it’s supposed to do.

Nika breaks the peace a moment later with another teasing comment, which prompts KK to yell at her, and then everyone is talking amongst themselves, the room buzzing with late-night, drunk-college-students-before-finals energy.

Paige sighs deeply into Azzi’s shoulder, and she loves that she’s the only one who can hear it, who can feel it against her skin.

Putting her lips to Paige’s hair, Azzi mutters, “Wanna go downstairs?”

Downstairs is where Paige’s dorm is. Azzi’s is the floor they’re on now, and it’d probably make more sense to sleep there for the night. But Paige’s dorm, and more specifically, her bedroom, is where they’ve been gravitating to the past couple weeks. Azzi has always loved it there, the smell of Paige filling the very air, photos of the two of them on her nightstand, purple bedding so very Paige. And now it’s become something of a sanctuary, a way to escape their facade which can become cumbersome.

Usually, they’d be in bed by now, because Azzi likes to sleep early and Paige hasn’t been wanting to stay up without her. But Paige shakes her head at the question.

“No?” Azzi asks. “You’re not tired?”

“Mm, nah.” Paige glances up at her. “You?”

Azzi licks her lips. She swears Paige’s eyes track the movement, and linger for just a moment too long. She clears her throat. “Same.”

“Aight,” Paige says, turning back to her shoulder. “We can leave after this, ma.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” KK says, barely giving Azzi any time to shudder at Paige’s nickname. “Pay attention. You’re going first.”

Everybody’s looking directly at Azzi, and she shakes her head awkwardly. “Oh, no, I don’t think—“

“If you don’t wanna play, you gotta take a shot every round.”

Paige lifts her head up. “KK, that’s dumb. She doesn’t have to play if she don’t want to.”

KK smiles deviously. Paige flips her off, but Azzi pulls her hand down, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever.” She leans over into the middle of the circle, making Paige lean off of her, and spins the beer bottle.

It spins only twice before slowing down and, blessedly, landing on Aubrey.

The girls make a range of noises, mostly giggles, and then Aubrey leans into the circle to meet Azzi in the middle, smiling.

Once she gets close enough, Azzi whispers, “Liyah good with this?”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “I’on think it’s my girl we gotta be worried about.”

Confused, Azzi glances over her shoulder, and sees Paige staring intensely at them, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The blank look on her usually lively face scares Azzi a little bit. She turns back to Aubrey, who also looks a little afraid.

“You’re good,” Azzi reassures her, because she is. Aubrey doesn’t know that Paige is just acting, because she’s the possessive type and of course, if she and Azzi were really dating, she’d be jealous even of her own teammates. But Azzi can’t tell Aubrey this, so instead, she leans forward and kisses her.

Aubrey lets out a noise, surprised, and it makes Azzi laugh because she probably should’ve warned her she was going in. The kiss can’t last more than two seconds before there’s a hand fisting Azzi’s shirt, pulling her back, and Paige is saying, “Alright, alright,” quite gruffly.

Azzi’s stomach does flips at Paige’s rough voice, but she’s tipsy (maybe a little bit more than tipsy) so she leans up to nuzzle Paige’s cheek rather than shying away from her. “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, “no one should be up on you like that.” And they’re obviously acting—but when Azzi pulls away to look at her, there’s something on her face that isn’t quite fake enough.

But then she’s smiling and saying, “Stop tryna steal my girl, Aubrey,” and Azzi’s heart contracts like it always does when Paige says stuff like this nowadays.

Across the circle, Aubrey takes her spin. It lands on Ice, and Ice is considerably more drunk than any of them, so the whole thing is pretty slobbery. The next spin—Nika—is mostly the same.

It goes like that for a while, a few people taking shots instead of kissing, and a few others taking shots for the hell of it. The bottle lands on Azzi once again and she fills her shot glass to the brim before taking it, needing to dull the feeling of Paige’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist.

By the time the bottle lands on Paige, they’re all pretty damn drunk.

Azzi knows it’s just a game, but she’s always hated seeing Paige with other people, and now is no different. Ashlynn laughs, because this whole thing is pretty fucking funny, but Azzi can’t help but sulk, glad to be under the guise of a relationship—glad she doesn’t have to hide her feelings for awhile.

Before leaning into the circle, Paige looks at Azzi and says, all lighthearted and buzzed, “Don’t pout at me, baby.”

There’s that roughness again, that tone in the back of her throat, and Azzi squirms when Paige presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

Paige and Ashlynn kiss, but they both laugh kind of hysterically so their teeth are pretty much just clashing, and when they’re done Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s shoulders and spins for herself. And it spins, and spins, and spins, so many times Azzi gets dizzy watching it—

It gets to Amari, and it slows.

It passes by Inês, barely moving anymore.

The neck gets back to Paige, and Azzi wonders for one drunk second, What if it lands on Paige and she has to kiss herself? and she doesn’t even have the time to laugh at how ridiculous that is before the bottle stops, pointing almost accusingly at her.

The girls all cheer, oohing and laughing.

Paige laughs too, easy and casual because they’re supposed to be a couple, they’re supposed to have done this a thousand times, it’s supposed to be normal, normal, Azzi, act normal.

They should have known this would be inevitable.

Paige turns to her, still smiling but with a concerned, almost imperceptible furrow between her brow. Azzi obviously can’t refuse this kiss, can’t take a shot rather than kiss her girlfriend in front of all these people who know she’s her girlfriend.

So instead, she wills herself to nod and then she takes Paige by the collar and kisses her.

Strangely enough, the first thing Azzi takes note of isn’t actually the way Paige’s lips feel touching hers for the first time, or the fact that their teammates are watching them, wolf-whistling and giggling amongst each other.

No, instead, it’s the way Paige smells—the fact that the hair tickling Azzi’s cheek is sweet, vanilla, which means she washed her hair today. And it’s the way her hands cup Azzi’s jaw, cradling her like they do this all the time, thumbs rubbing gently against her cheekbones in a gesture soft enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

She only snaps into it and really realizes, oh, Paige is actually kissing me right now, when Paige’s tongue teases against Azzi’s bottom lip. And it’s just for a second, Paige pulling away fast enough that Azzi thinks she must have imagined it, but it leaves her lip wet.

After that, Paige sits back, smiling at her but there’s that furrow between her brow again, imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Azzi does, and she’s stroking Azzi’s cheek like a tick now, like she’s trying to figure something out.

The moment ends when the girls all clap like white people on a plane, and Azzi isn’t even paying attention to the teasing and cooing, because she’s too busy staring at Paige, wondering what she’s thinking about right now, wondering what about that kiss made her feel so damn…safe.

Whenever she thought about her first kiss with Paige, she expected butterflies, light-headedness—maybe even nausea. Comfort, the thing you feel when you come home to your small town after a semester away—that was not expected.

Paige blinks, that strange look on her face disappearing, and Azzi realizes that she’s still holding onto the front of her shirt. She pushes her away teasingly, and Paige laughs, wrapping an arm around her as she turns to the girls, waving off their teasing remarks, and as Azzi watches her profile, feels the wetness on her bottom lip cool, she knows that she is falling and thinks nobody will be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom.

——————————————

The next morning, Azzi wakes up and immediately regrets it.

Paige’s window blanket must’ve fallen down last night, because the sun is shining through the room and it is…loud. She rolls onto her side to try and get away from it, and then that problem is fixed but another rises in the form of an abrupt tummyache. And Azzi prides herself on being a strong person, but as soon as she gets a tummyache it’s over for her.

Also, maybe the loud sun problem isn’t as fixed as she thought because her head is beginning to pound. She can feel it beating against her skull in time with the beating of her heart, and somehow that gives her a feeling akin to motion sickness, which makes her tummy hurt worse. She is probably going to throw up very soon, and should get up so she doesn’t do it all over Paige’s bed, but that’s where the third problem arises: she is so comfy. How can she ever be expected to leave this bed when she’s so goddamn comfy?

“Yo, are you gonna puke?”

Azzi groans. “Probably.”

Azzi’s facing away, so she can’t see what Paige’s doing, but she hears sheets rustle and then a pair of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, Paige is standing in front of her, holding a hand out. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Azzi looks up, and that makes her stomach turn again, the back of her neck burning. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you puke on my bed. Like, actually.”

If Azzi threw up on Paige’s bed, Paige would probably usher her to the bathroom, give her some water, and clean the sheets without complaining about it until a few days later. But Azzi still doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so she sits herself up and is about to accept Paige’s hand when she realizes this is much more urgent than she thought. Almost as soon as her feet hit solid ground, the bile rises in her throat at an alarming rate and she has to run across the hall. She doesn’t make it to the toilet but manages the bathtub, which is arguably better.

Paige is there once she’s done, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “That it?”

Azzi spits. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Lemme grab you some pepto or somethin’. Hang tight.”

Once Paige walks away, Azzi wipes her mouth and all at once, like the tide coming in, remembers how the lips now coated in spit and bile were yesterday on Paige’s.

Of course, she also remembers the pet names, the affection, the flash of jealousy in Paige’s eyes that may or may not have been there. But it’s the kiss, the wonderful, tipsy, warm kiss that wrestles its way to the forefront of her pounding head and stays there, the memory replaying quite a few times before Paige comes back with pepto bismol and water. “Here.”

Azzi looks disdainfully at the bright pink medicine. “I don’t think I can swallow that, P.”

“Whoa, pause.“

“Chill,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. “Gimme that.” she takes them from Paige’s hand and manages to swallow one before throwing up again, this time with Paige by her side to hold onto her while her shoulders heave.

“Aw,” Paige tuts sympathetically when she’s done. “My lil lightweight.”

Azzi rests her head on the edge of the tub while Paige turns on the tap, washing the bile away.

Azzi lifts her head enough to see Paige sit against the wall across from her. “Feel okay now?”

Her throat burns, and her tummy hurts, and throwing up in front of the love of your life is not a glamorous experience. But with Paige here with her, taking care of her, she doesn’t feel too bad.

If it only weren’t for that really good fucking kiss.

Azzi nods weakly even though she doesn’t know the answer, because saying ‘I hate the fact that we kissed last night, not because I regret it—I’ve been wanting to do it since we were kids in high school—but because now I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my feelings hidden for much longer which is worrisome because we haven’t even left for Montana yet, and also I wonder what this means for us and our fake relationship, because if it means kissing will become a normal thing I don’t know if I can do this’ would probably be weird.

“K, good. Thanks for not puking in my bed.”

Azzi smiles weakly at her, mouth still tasting like bile. How could Paige ever return her feelings when she has seen her like this a hundred other times?

Paige reaches a socked toe out to nudge Azzi’s calf. “Okay, you said you feel better, but you still look kinda…green.”

Azzi looks Paige in the eye, and manages maybe a second of eye contact before she’s thinking about how they looked at each other just like this after they kissed last night, and there it goes, the moment playing in her head once and then again. She can’t help but groan and rest her burning cheek to the cool tub.

And the universe should go to hell for making them best friends because Paige gets it instantly. “Oh, this is about last night.”

Suddenly the cool tub isn’t helping anymore. Azzi weakly shakes her head, but she knows the truth is showing plainly on her face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Paige pushes herself off the wall, wiggling her eyebrows. Azzi senses trouble. “It was a good kiss, huh?”

Azzi balks, then tries to reel it in. “That’s not…Paige…”

“Hold up,” Paige says, looking genuinely a little confused. “You don’t think I’m a good kisser?”

“No, no, but I just…” how can Paige talk about this so casually, like it was meaningless, something to be joked about? Azzi envies her lack of feelings. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Paige scratches the side of her neck, and it occurs to Azzi that the bathroom isn’t an amazing place to talk about this. “Yeah, sure. If you want to.”

Not exactly an encouraging answer. Azzi strives on nonetheless. “It was our first kiss.”

“Yeah. Guess we coulda planned it better.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Azzi trails off. “Don't you think it was sort of…weird?”

Paige frowns again. “Damn! If you didn’t like the kiss just say that.”

Azzi hopes she can blame her flushed cheeks on the hangover. “P, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re my best friend—“

“That’s me.” Paige smiles proudly. It’s too fucking cute.

“And,” Azzi says pointedly, “I feel like, weird, about kissing you.”

She waits for Paige to answer, but Paige just stares, apparently waiting for her, too. Azzi sighs. “I worry we won’t be able to fake it well enough.”

“We did fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We were drunk last night.”

Paige makes a face. “I guess. But I feel like we’d do good even if we were sober, y’know?” She leans her head back against the wall. “And it’s not like kissing’s a big deal, anyway.”

Azzi’s eyes drop down to the tiled floor, cold against the thin material of her sleep pants. “Maybe not to you,” she mumbles.

There’s a shuffling, and then Paige is closer than before, nudging Azzi’s knee with her own. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s my bad.” There’s a silence, both of them thinking, and Azzi wonders if maybe Paige is thinking the same thing she is. About how their kiss last night felt…different. Different than a kiss between two friends, different than the other kisses with other people felt. And the look Paige gave her afterward…

But then Paige says, “Wanna practice, ma?” and Azzi was a fool to ever think they’d be on the same track.

Azzi splutters for a moment. “Practice?”

“Yeah. To prepare, in case we have to do it again,” Paige says casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

“I don’t think that’s…that’s not—“ Azzi cuts herself off on a sigh. Then she looks at Paige, really looks at her, and that’s when she catches the glint in Paige’s eyes, and she realizes—she’s messing with her. She’s taking advantage of Azzi’s obvious shyness about this whole thing.

What a little shithead.

Making a quick decision, Azzi leans forward a little bit, glancing down, then back up, looking at Paige through her lashes before she licks her lip.

Paige clocks it, tracks it with her eyes. Just like last night.

Azzi swallows down the nervousness and wills herself to be normal, reminds herself that this is Paige, and she has no reason to sink into her shell when she has the opportunity to take the upper hand.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a moment.

Paige’s eyes flit up, away from her lips. “Okay?”

Azzi nods, then lifts her hand to place over Paige’s knee, bare in her sleep shorts, before she dances her fingers delicately up her thigh. “You wanna practice kissing me, Paige?”

Paige swallows thickly. And then she nods.

Okay. So. That’s…unexpected.

Paige wants to kiss her.

That would explain the lip-ogling.

Azzi has half a mind to make the biggest mistake of her life and close the gap between them, but then she remembers they are sitting on the bathroom floor, and, ew, she just threw up. Twice.

Azzi manages what she hopes is a cocky smirk and leans away. “Well, too bad. Sick, remember?”

Paige’s eyes widen, like she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Oh. Yeah.” She backs off then, relief coursing through Azzi, before she’s standing up and dusting off her shorts as she reaches down to help Azzi up. “You good to stand?”

Ok. So they’re not talking about it. Cool.

Azzi nods and takes Paige’s hand, her palm warm against her own as their fingers entangle for the two seconds it takes to go from sitting to standing, feeling a little dizzy from the altitude once she’s up.

Paige frowns at her. “You still look kinda messed up. How ‘bout you lay down. I can go get us some food? Gotta fuel up for all the studying today.”

Azzi groans, palming her face. “No, I forgot about finals.”

“Azzi Fudd? Forgetting about finals?” Paige teases, leading them out of the bathroom. “Last night really fucked you up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi mumbles. “It was definitely the alcohol that did it.”

Paige glances back at her but doesn’t say anything, sitting Azzi down on the edge of the bed once they get there. “Okay, sit here and chill out. Lemme know if you need to puke again.” She smiles down at her, and Azzi smiles weakly back, before the older girl is turning on her heel and walking out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Another door opens somewhere down the hall and then one of the girls’ voices mixes in with Paige’s as the roommates converse too quietly for Azzi to really hear. She sighs and flops down on the bed, hands wringing nervously at her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

She has really gotten herself into some shit this time.

Her phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand, and Azzi straightens up to check it, her mother’s face flashing on the screen. Anxiety coils in Azzi’s belly at the sight of her mother’s contact, which usually brings her so much comfort.

Ever since she and Paige ‘came out’ to their friends, Azzi has been avoiding her mother like the plague. She knows she should just come out and tell Katie, but she’s not sure what she should tell her.

Azzi knows that Katie would disapprove if she found out about their little scheme, the woman avidly against lying. But if Azzi were to tell Katie what they’ve been telling everyone else—that they are a disgustingly happy, perfectly real couple—she’d be lying to her mother. And with Katie being her main confidante throughout her entire life, Azzi’s never really been good at that. She hasn’t gotten enough practice.

Not without guilt, Azzi lets it go to voicemail, holding her phone close to her chest afterwards, lying back down. She feels nauseous again at just the thought of lying to her mom. But if she came clean, would Katie make her feel guilty about it? Urge her to tell the truth, even if it meant not helping Paige like she promised she would?

Just as Azzi’s about to head back to the bathroom, Paige comes to the bedroom, leaning through the doorframe. “Toast’s almost done, Az.”

Azzi nods but doesn’t move. Paige lingers, sensing that Azzi’s going to say something.

Finally, after some internal debate, Azzi says, “What do you think I should tell my mom?”

Paige frowns. “I thought you talked to her already.”

Azzi shrugs. “We haven’t called. I’ve been avoiding her, but I feel bad about it.”

Paige bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking, and it eases some of the tension out of Azzi’s shoulders, softening her around the edges. She leans against the doorframe, looking right at Azzi. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Azzi shrugs helplessly.

Paige scrunches her nose (very cutely) and says, “Honestly, I don’t think we should tell her. Not yet, at least.”

Azzi heaves out a breath, not liking the sound of that answer. “You think?”

“Yeah. Have you met your mom?” Paige smiles fondly. “Lady can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“You’re right.” Azzi hadn’t thought of that, the fact her mom’s the town gossip. “She’d probably have the truth out before we could even finish telling her.”

Paige nods in agreement. “Exactly. Plus, it’s easier to tell everyone the same story, right?”

“I guess.” Unsteady, Azzi pushes herself up from the bed, walking over to Paige slowly. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Paige says, “we’re too deep in it now.”

Azzi looks up at her solemnly. “The point of no return.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige sighs out a breath, looking almost regretfully at the girl in front of her. “Sorry again, about asking you to do this. I know it’s kinda a whole thing now.”

Azzi’s shaking her head before Paige can even finish. “I already told you, it’s fine. We go to Montana soon, and before we know it we’ll be done.” Azzi’s stomach sort of sinks at the thought. No more flirting, no more cheek-kissing, no more Paige protectively slinging an arm around her shoulder while they’re in public like she’s telling everyone Azzi’s her’s.

Azzi manages what she hopes is an optimistic smile anyway. “Let’s go eat breakfast. And then I’ll call my mom back and we can tell her together?”

Almost as if reading her mind, Paige easily wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she leads her down the hallway. “Alright, ma. Sounds good to me.”

@smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[yanmuffins]

asks 2.

context.

here are some more asks i'm replying to in a bulk about phineas and ferb reader!!

my favorite part in dc. vs vampires is when reader comes together with damian and damian to build a silly machine that un-vampifies people in like half a day so they can defeat the vampire king. it is canon.

@amethystjellyfish

perry really is reader's number #1 stan. they're his family, reader's had him since he was a small platypus baby!

he does his best to keep reader safe, which is why he doesn't like the batfam much. he keeps it professional on the rare occasions they go on missions together, but that's it. he hates how dismissive of reader they are in the beginning, and he hates them later on when they star showering them with attention because they found out about their inventions.

not tired, anon! i love seeing people enjoy my concepts and interact with them!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

and i'm sure this has happened. more than once, actually. the power of coincidence is strong with reader. the life-saving laser beam comes from a situation involving reader's latest machine they built and tested with the help of jon.

unfortunately, one of his lasers richochets on the machine during testing, not only causing it to save batfamily's life, caught in a dangerous situation in a completely different location, but also destroys the machine so there's nothing to link it to reader.

ah, well. they'll just have to keep looking.

reader, seeing them run past her: oh! there's perry :)

i love how we have established tim is terrified of this platypus. nevermind the other pets in the manor, it's the platypus with its googly eyes that drives him insane. they don't get it, he got up to drink water at 3 a.m. and the thing was just there, looking at him. menacingly.

jason would though. meanwhile, perry is wishing he could just go back to metropolis. he didn't have to deal with reader's siblings in metropolis. he doesn't get enough hazard pay for this.

hm... good question!

i like to think that, much like with phineas and ferb, luck is on reader's side most of the time, so i don't see reader getting injured by their own inventions.

but, let's suppose they do: it's a nice sunday afternoon, the batfam has decided to gather around the living room and hang out, watch a movie, lots of popcorn and soda. they don't have to think about criminals or fighting, tim and damian are bickering, jason is around, peace reigns the manor.

until they hear an explosion. they run to the garage only to find reader on the floor, unconscious, bleeding, and an assortment of destroyed metal components to a machine they can't decipher. damian doesn't even feel good about reader finally being busted.

later, when reader is back home, awake and out of risk but with a bandage around their head and their leg in a cast, they're in for the biggest (and probably first) scolding of their entire lives. reader tries to play it off. it wasn't that big of a deal, they're fine, aren't they? and they're genuinely optimistic about it. but the entire family is talking over each other at first, until bruce signals for everyone to shut up and leave the room. he has a very serious talk with reader, and makes it very clear they're not to come near a toolbox ever again.

but he understands. it's partly his fault for not being attentive. he won't make that mistake again.

ofc reader is really upset. dick comes next, then stephanie, then cass, then duke, then barbara and they all try to convince reader in a much more amiable tone that hey, it's fine. who needs to do all that whacky stuff to have fun? just hang out with us. they can get another hobby, and this time they can make it a family thing! how's that sound? not fun? don't be like that... they're sure reader will come around.

tim is pretty much the only one who congratulates them for being awesome pulling all those stunts, one per day, it's impressive. but now it's time to step back a bit. who knows? try being careful and bruce will let you work with a welding tool again. one day. maybe.

damian and jason's reactions are more similar to bruce's. in other circumstances, damian is on reader's side and helps them sneak around to continue their shenanigans, but in the case of reader getting hurt he just wants them to not do that. any of that. ever again. and jason has to hold himself back not to snap and ask them what the hell were they thinking?! they could have died! he ends up just telling them to quit it. they're just a kid who shouldn't be messing around with that sort of stuff.

anon, i wouldn't go as far as say he'd use venom against them, but he's bit batfam before. as stated, he does not dig their vibe at all!

anon, that's a great idea! though i think p&f! reader is much too motivated by the creative process and experience that their inventions bring more than just willing them to come to life.

they have the power to create whatever they want, but what's the fun of it? what about hte process? the building? the friends they make along the way? the memories? i think reader would find the ring awesome at first, but the novelty would wear of in less than a week.

anon...

because i dig the idea of reader being friends with dipper and mabel. reader talks about their crazy inventions, and loves hearing about all the cryptids they came across during vacation.

reader invites the twins to the manor, they share their most recent summer memories. reader talks about that one time they built and drove a massive monster truck with their brother damian, but jason only comes into the room in time to hear about dipper and mable talk about the weirdmaggedon. he has several question marks around his head. aren't those kids a a little too old to be making shit up? or maybe... no, there's no way. or is there? no... he would have heard about this... but weirder things have happened. but what if...

@randomlyappearingartist

you are so right. to be honest, i don't even think the batfam would even know of his existence, since he's pretty much a very minor villain acting in metropolis. after perry joins the league, or in the rare occasion of dr. doof teaming up with another minor gotham villian like condiment man, is when they get to know he exists.

and since perry seems to have him under control, they don't even acknowledge the guy.

i love love love this sm!

they assume it's just flash mobs. it's got to be. flash mobs with really weird themes, like an entire musical number dedicated to the squirrels in damian's pants. that was strange. bruce patrolling in the middle of the night and this new crime lord just burst into a song with a band and hired back dancers, because it's apparently a new trend a minor villain in metropolis started.

and what about that one time dick took damian (and reader) to the library and some guy just started singing about how he doesn't have rhythm? and damian just started playing a trumpet? and reader started singing? i mean, it was a bop and he started dancing, but it was weird anyway.

but now i'm thinking of damian and reader singing the "summer" song together (he sings the "it's noticeably warmer" and that's it) though! wholesome.

@lazyandannoyng

not annoying at all! you're good ⸜(˙꒳​˙ )

i have this little idea in my head that reader doesn't take the wayne name when find out bruce is their dad and move to gotham, and bruce is pretty secretive about this new kid of his for purely privacy and safety reasons. so when reader does their networking, it's often not obvious they're a wayne. not sure if this will make it into the fic, but it really resonates with this concept!

it's also funny to think that a lot of people don't even know reader and the waynes are related. even if they do know reader is related to the batfam, nobody really talks about them by name (just "your sibling"), and all of those little details like never asking about where the gloves came from (because why would he) or the misunderstandings where one party means one thing and the other assumes it's another (dick has many siblings! too many!) just end up helping reader not get caught. and i just think that's neat.

[pedroscurls]

We all know Hugh HATES to be late at events/dinner or people who are..but what if his girl is a little needy 🥵 and "nervous" 😩 about what to wear?

late to the party (one-shot)

summary: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warning: smut (18+, mdni), quickie, dom!hugh, light spanking, dirty talk, fingering, doggy style (against the wall), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), creampie (oopsies!), no use of y/n. word count: 1.8k a/n: once again, this one is really late to post so i'm sorry. i'm slowly catching up with all my requests! to the anon that requested this, i hope you enjoyed it! (btw - i'm gonna try something new with these headers moving forward, it takes so long to pick photos and figured just choosing one hugh pic is better lol). as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“Baby, come on. We’re already late,” Hugh calls out, straightening out his tie. He then glances at his watch and when he sees that it’s already past the time that you both needed to be at Ryan and Blake’s house, he grabs his phone to send a text to them. 

You’re standing in the closet, dressed in a matching black lace bra and thong. You bite your lower lip at Hugh’s voice; you know he’s always so punctual and hates it when other people – including himself – are late. 

“I know! I can’t figure out what to wear.” You can hear Hugh’s footsteps approach you, can hear him let out a quiet sigh of frustration. You have your arms crossed over your chest, a thoughtful look on your features by the time he enters the closet with you. He has his hands in his pockets and when you turn to look over at him, his brows are furrowed together and his lips in a straight line. 

“That black one is nice,” he says, nodding his chin to the black dress you’re standing in front of. “Come on, baby. You know I hate being late.” 

“Well, we’re already late and I don’t know what to wear.” 

He sighs again. “Whatever you decide to wear will look good on you, love. Just put on that black one and let’s go.” 

You bite your lower lip and shake your head, turning your back to him as you walk further into the closet to look at the other dresses you have hanging. You can hear the tapping of his foot and you’re trying to hold back the smile on your lips. 

“Baby…” He walks after you and reaches for the dress he pointed out. It’s a black dress with subtle floral print, a ruffled square neckline and sheer short sleeves. It has an empire waist that he knows will fit perfectly to each curve as the bottom of your dress flows out. It looks like the length will stop right at your shins and he walks towards you with the dress in hand. “I’ll pick for you. It’s this one.”

When you turn around to face him, you bite your lower lip and look up at him. You see his eyes deviate to your body, a glimmer of desire flashing through his eyes before he remembers that you’re both already late for the party. 

“I don’t know about that one though…” you say with a sigh, but the corner of your lips turn upwards and Hugh narrows his eyes. 

“Are you–” He hangs the dress back up on the clothesline and then steps closer to you. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 

“What? No!”

Hugh narrows his eyes even further and moves a hand to your hip, pushing you further into the closet until your back gently hits the wall. He reaches out with one hand and places it next to your head, leaning down until his nose is touching yours. 

“Looks to me like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“I just– I just don’t know what to wear!” you lie, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel the hand on your hip tighten. 

“Sounds like you’re lying, baby.” Hugh brushes his lips against yours, hearing your breath catch in your throat as you gasp quietly. “If I reach down here,” he whispers, moving his hand from your hip to between your legs, cupping your sex instantly. “And if I feel that you’re wet…” he continues, moving the strip of your thong to the side as he runs the tip of his finger along the length of your sex. “Oh, you are wet. How long have you been wet, huh?” 

“Hugh…” you whimper, reaching out to rest your hands on his suit jacket but careful not to wrinkle the clothes he’s wearing. After all, you both still need to attend Ryan and Blake’s party. 

“So, let me ask again… Did you intentionally make us late?” 

You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, thrusting two fingers deep inside of you. Your arousal makes it easy for him to push his digits into your tight heat and when he feels you about to grip onto his suit jacket, he uses his free hand and grips your wrists in one hand, gently placing them above your head. 

“Oh baby,” he growls. “Don’t lie to me.” Hugh pushes his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, knowing that it won’t take long for you to reach your climax, but just as he feels your walls begin to clench, he pulls his hand away. 

“Okay!” you exclaim, trying to squirm against him, hips pushing forward and off the wall to chase his fingers. “I did it on purpose… I saw you in that suit and I just– I need you. I knew that the only way I could get what I need was if I made us late and–” 

Hugh growls and releases your hands to grip your hips, roughly turning you around. He watches you place your hands on the wall in front of you, bracing yourself once he pulls your hips closer to him. You can hear him undo his belt and his zipper. You look over your shoulder to watch him drop his suit pants and boxer briefs down his legs. 

He tugs your thong down your legs and you gasp, feeling his warm and leaking tip press against your opening. 

“Hugh, wait, I–” He pushes his hips forward, filling you to the brim in one thrust. He’s so deep that it literally takes your breath away. You gasp, feeling him pull out to his tip until he thrusts back into you. 

“This what you wanted?” Hugh growls, using one hand to grip your hip tightly as he brings his other hand down to connect with your backside. It leaves a red imprint, the sound of the spank echoing throughout the closet. It catches you off guard and your walls clench at the sensation. 

“Y– Yes!” you answer, pushing back against him as he delivers another sharp slap to your ass. He lets out a loud groan, ceasing his movements only to watch you push back against him. He looks down at your bodies, the sight of his glistening manhood appearing and disappearing with each of your movements. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That’s it, take what you need…” Hugh releases his hold on your hip to hold the bottom of his dress shirt and tie upwards and away from where you’re both connected. He certainly doesn’t want to have to change, especially since you’re both already so late. 

Hugh feels your walls begin to clench around him, your walls sliding along every inch of his throbbing length. He pushes his hips forward, feeling himself delve even deeper within your depths. 

“Hugh! Oh god– I’m close,” you gasp, bracing your hands on the wall as Hugh grips your hip with his free hand and begins to slam into you repeatedly. You can feel each vein on his manhood, can feel him throbbing within your depths and it only urges you closer and closer to reach your high. 

“My naughty girl,” Hugh groans, the sounds of skin slapping against one another mixes in with your continuous moans. He shuts his eyes, your walls continuing to tremble and clench around him. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels the tightness build in the pit of his stomach. 

“Gonna fill you up,” Hugh growls, delivering another slap across your ass. “Gonna have me dripping out of you the entire fucking night.” 

“Hugh!” you push back against him roughly, your walls clenching around him as your walls tremble. You’re so wet, and already so sensitive as you reach your orgasm. 

Hugh groans, picking up the pace with his thrusts until he slams into you with a loud grunt. He paints your walls with his release, hips stuttering. You can feel his come fill you up and when he does pull out slowly, you look down between your legs and see thick drops of his spend trickle down your legs. 

Hugh licks his lower lip and looks down, a broad smirk lining his lips. “You gonna put on that dress now?” 

“Can you give me a minute?” you ask, turning to look over your shoulder with a small smile. 

“Oh, I’ve given you plenty.” 

You let out a quiet giggle and then watch him tuck himself back into his pants as he makes himself presentable again. You watch his eyes deviate between your legs before he leaves the closer only to come back with a wet and warm towel to wipe the release from between your legs. 

Hugh then helps slide your thong back up your body and you bite your lower lip when you turn around to face him. You can feel him so deep inside of you and it makes you smile, almost makes you yearn for another round with him but you know that you should really be getting to Ryan and Blake’s party.

You grab the same dress he had picked out for you and slide it on, turning around so that Hugh can zip you up. Once he does, he places a gentle kiss on the side of your neck and looks at you from top to bottom. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles. 

“I’m gonna be feeling you all night,” you admit. 

“Good, and just so we’re both clear,” Hugh says, gently gripping your chin as he looks into your eyes. “Your punishment isn’t over.”

“Punishment?” you clear your throat, excitement bubbling in your chest. 

“Oh yeah,” he grins. “You’re not going to get away with making us late that easily.” 

“Can we– Can we skip the party and just get straight into it?” 

Hugh narrows his eyes. “Such a naughty girl,” he growls. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“No,” Hugh chuckles. “Now, let’s go. Consider having to wait as part of your punishment.”

“Yes, sir.” you respond, biting your lip. 

Hugh growls and releases his hold on your chin as he takes a step back to look at you from top to bottom. “If we don’t leave now, I’m going to throw you over my knee and–”

“Okay!” you interrupt, squeezing your legs together. “Let’s go before I tie you to the bed.” You don’t give him a chance to respond because you’re already walking out of the closet.

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see a response from Ryan who had replied to tell him that the party wasn’t going to start for another hour. Hugh shakes his head and runs out after you, seeing you with a knowing smirk on your lips.

“Oh, you planned all of this.” Hugh points out.

You nod and then reach out to gently grip the end of his tie. “Do you really think I’d make us late for the party, Hugh?” 

“On the bed. Now.”

“But what if we’re late–”

“We have an hour,” Hugh growls. “And I ain’t done with you yet.”

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[stayconnecteed]

“ㅤcasual intimacy moments.ㅤ”ㅤㅤfeat.ㅤstray kids

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ,⠀ ( none of them, just pure fluff and love from our boys ーfelix's is a bit suggestive at the end𓈒⠀⠀enjoy! )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ,⠀ ( if you saw this post in another blog no you didn't because it was me having a tumblr break down and creating another blog for the fun of it. anyways, i really really love cute domestic moments, even more if it's skz themed hehe𓈒⠀⠀hope you like it! )

⠀ೀ　──── 　bang chan.

for chan it's the almost gravitational way you always rotate around each other, with passing caresses and soothing embraces, unable to separate. it's the way your legs tangle under the sheets at night, when you inevitably end up wrapped in his arms and your minds drift off to sleep in harmony. it's every time you walk outside and your hand finds a place next to his, at first just brushing, but always gently intertwining your fingers. when he invites you to his company events, and guides you through the crowd of guests with the warm palm of his hand pressed into the small of your back, murmuring in your ear a low ‘i'm going to say hello to some colleagues, just give me a second’, waiting for you to give him that shy little smile followed by a quick nod. or at a quiet dinner, surrounded by your closest friends, forever sitting right next to you, his hand drawing meaningless shapes on the bare skin of your thigh absentmindedly. chan carries the weight of the conversation, but he's always paying attention to you. if you even hint you want to say something, he'll lean back in his seat, looking at you as if you hang the stars in the sky every night, sliding his arm around the back of your chair, caressing your shoulders, playing with your hair, smiling at every word you pronounce. it's the way he leaves a kiss on your temple when one of your friends points out what a good couple you make, and you press yourself against him, blushing and embarrassed, but still resting your hand on his chest, cuddling onto him with pride.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee know.

for minho it's the way the velvety sound of your voice can make the weight of a bad day slide off his shoulders, and he always greets you with a big genuine smile. it's the way he doesn't take a second to plug his bluetooth earbuds into his phone as soon as your personalised notification song starts playing, indicating that a new audio from you has arrived in your chat. you usually narrate whatever has just happened to you as if you were recording a podcast just for him, and minho can't help but listen to every second of it with a smitten, adoring gesture curving his lips. it's hearing you humming in the kitchen when he wakes up, starting his day in a good mood and with a slightly scorched pancake in his hand, or receiving your sleepy greeting when he wakes up first and you can only cling to him as he finishes preparing the breakfast. it's your giggles, his playful whispers, your cranky protests and the voice you make when apologising to him after an argument, even if it wasn't your fault, just because you hate fighting with him. but most of all it's at night, when you watch him chop vegetables for dinner while you go on and on about everything you've done during the day. and when you pause, paying attention to the music playing on the radio, and you miss the comment he makes, something along the lines of ‘you look pretty on my counter’, but it's okay. because you just exclaimed that your favourite song is on and you started dancing in the middle of the kitchen, and he knows it is, but he just smiles. he's always listening to you: that's the song that plays every time you text him.

⠀ೀ　──── 　seo changbin.

for changbin it's the way in which your presence has become his safe space, and you his pillar, always willing to let him carry some of his worries on your shoulders. the way you stand so firm and secure, with a soft smile curving your lips, welcoming him with open arms. it's the way that since he was young he has needed to keep quiet about everything he feels, to avoid hurting anyone who might hear him speak, but it never happened with you. knowing your limits, he speaks with the freedom of one who knows he is in a place he trusts, telling what he has done during the day, but also his private thoughts and deepest longings. it's all those times when he has come home and spent his time talking, sitting in bed, while you make notes or tidy up the room. you listen to him, relaxing, and he always feels better after talking to you ーeven if you haven't said a word. and if he comes in in a bad mood, or even sad, or just doesn't feel like talking, you walk him to your bathroom to put on your gym outfits, and take him with you to release energy. but if you don't feel like it, then he's the one who helps you clean up, selecting a random playlist from his private spotify account and vacuuming, mopping, or even his favourite: doing the laundry. being able to smell the clean towels and sheets, taking your time to fold them carefully and neatly, him holding two corners and you holding the other two, doing it together, and getting to sit on the couch and watch it all tidy up makes you feel satisfied.

⠀ೀ　──── 　hwang hyunjin.

for hyunjin it's the way you look at each other, meeting in a room full of people even almost unintentionally. automatic, at first as a coincidence that made you blush like teenagers, and now as an old habit that never fails to make you smile. it's the way you don't need him to utter a word to know what he needs, to find out what's wrong with him. one look from him, his eyes moist with sadness, and you do whatever it takes to make it right. one look from you, full of loneliness, and you can't get him to leave you for the rest of the day. it’s looking into his eyes and knowing he's the most important person in your life. searching for him with your eyes when you hear something he'd love to know, and discovering his absence. missing the way his eyes curve into a smile when you hear a joke and he's not there. repeating word for word later in the day, knowing he's lost in thought, and his gaze lost on you, certain he'd smile with his eyes even if it wasn't funny. because it's you. it's coming home to find it silent, exhaling all the pent up stress he's been accumulating and being able to lose himself in your eyes. even before you go to sleep, when you meet in the bathroom to brush your teeth, it's that glance. sometimes tired, sometimes clear as a summer night, but always with the glow of the happiness you give each other. is when you make a silly face, and he has to hold back to keep the toothpaste foam from coming out of his nose, or dance in front of the mirror, humming whatever. even later, face to face on the mattress, when you look at each other in silence, tracing every detail you fell in love with, sometimes with your memories, sometimes with your fingers, sometimes with your lips.

⠀ೀ　──── 　han jisung.

for jisung it is the selfless and generous way you love him, as if it were as easy as breathing. the way you make him the centre of your universe at every sign of faltering, even when he doesn't think he deserves it. how you put all your trust in him from the beginning, overflowing so that he learned to trust himself too. how you treat him when he feels like a broken glass, too fractured and fragile, letting him lie in your lap, teaching him how precious he is, reassuring him for as long as he needs, with soft words and slow caresses. it's the way you say ‘baby, i'm home’ when it's seven o'clock and you've only just opened the door, always eager to get to him, and also how you never fail to show up at his late-night studio sessions with home-cooked food for him and his hyungs. you make sure you don't interrupt, and he always works better with you around. because you were the first person outside his circle that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of, the night you asked him how he was and he just crumbled, and you wrote i love you on his arms with the marker you'd been painting with, until he started to believe it. but mostly because that time he decided to be the one to initiate physical contact, resting his head on your shoulder, he noticed how you tensed. he heard your heartbeat quicken, and was aware of the slow, calm way you tried to breathe. and when he heard changbin enter the room, as loud as ever, he had heard you threaten him with very unpleasant things if he made jisung wake up. he will never tell you that he was completely conscious, but he will love you just the same.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee felix.

for felix it's the way you both drown under each other's skin whenever you can, creating an ethereal bubble around you. the way your bodies seek each other out, taking refuge next to each the other when you want to hide from the world because you've become saturated with emotions. it's him collapsing on top of you when he comes back from a really physical session, letting your fingers dance over his aching muscles. it's how you snuggle into his chest after an argument with your best friend, seeking his warmth, not resuming the video game until he makes sure that all you need is his physical touch to rest. he will get fuzzy to your words, like when you show him how you see him on those days when he's feeling less confident, but he'll leave kisses on your forehead every time he notices you moving and will stop the game as soon as it's over to be with you. or in your routine, bathing together. when one of you goes to fetch the other because you're feeling down, and you intertwine your fingers on the way to the bathroom, tenderly undressing each other, cuddling under the fine line that separates the real world from underwater peace of mind. maybe you lean against him, letting him massage your shoulders, or maybe he has his eyes closed, his head on your chest as you wash his hair. but you are always skin to skin, letting your bones melt, the soft vanilla gel washing away your sadness, leaving only wet kisses and sighs contained in the tarnished tiles of your bathroom.

⠀ೀ　──── 　kim seungmin.

for seungmin it's the way your smile plagues his day to day, your memory constantly on his mind. it's the way that when it comes to you, everything else doesn't matter. it's your chat; plagued by highlighted messages, pictures that have reminded him of you, audios with drafts of tunes, videos he forces jeongin to record when they're on a trip, titles of books you'd once mentioned you'd like to read ーto confirm before he buys them for youー, the review score of the movie you wanted to go to the cinema to see, a screenshot of your favourite artist's concert tickets. it's the way seungmin will do anything for you. from leaving you his hoodie at dusk, when the weather starts to cool down, to letting his phone bill run up, just to be able to hear your voice when he can't be with you. but none of that compares to the day you decided to move in together and he discovered he'd never been too much for you. he sat on your new shared bed, surrounded by packaging, and opened the shoebox that you had treated with the utmost care when you brought it up to your room from the car. every CD he had made for you, every polaroid and ticket, every note and receipt, even that attempted copy of his minho hyung's doodle he had made on a napkin, on one of your first dates. it's the way you've never made him feel like he's too much, matching his energy every step of the way.

⠀ೀ　──── 　yang jeongin.

for jeongin, it's the way you intertwined your lives without even thinking about it, accepting oddities and enjoying every moment. it's the way you started to memorise each other's likes and dislikes by sharing your time, like his favourite order of coffee or your favourite walk from home to work, which always passes in front of his work, so you could go together. it's the curve of your hip against the counter as you stir the food absently while you wait for him to come home, and the way you hang on his neck as soon as he walks in the door, covering his face with kisses. it's how clumsy he is, and all the band-aids you've had to put on, or vases to glue, but also how forgetful you are, and all those days when he's reminded you of important things he's written down on his phone for you. it's those almost nocturnal trips to do the shopping, because he never remembers and you always forget, and how you leave the house together, shoulder to shoulder, with knowing smiles on your faces.  the walk hand in hand to the supermarket that opens later in the evening, taking advantage of the lit pavements to take couple photos or, if there aren't many people in the street, to record a cute tiktok. the way you slide your arms across his chest in a back hug as you wait for the traffic lights to turn green and cross, and the process of convincing each other to buy your favourite snacks at the same time as the food, without going over budget. those quiet moments when he insists on being the one to carry the bags, and then you both place them together in the kitchen cupboards, whispering love songs.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝑡𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.

this is a big i'm sorry for being so out of here rn, hope you guys understand :((

@skzms , @starlostastronaut , @rylea08 , @atinyniki , @jazziwritesthings , @manuosorioh , @hanjsquokka , @linosssss , @babybearcubbs , @kayleefriedchicken , gnabnahc097 , @caitlyn98s , @reignessance , @starlostseungmin , @bbokari711 , @nebugalaxy , @nxtt2-u , @strawberrysworld26 , @catiuskaa , @lyramundana , @jisunglyricist , @jisuperboard , @choixlia , seungminniez , juuh-07 , ayyonoona , @seolarzone , @my-neurodivergent-world

( + ) @katzline , lixxpix

ㅤㅤ© stayconnecteed ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

I had to explain to my group of kids that there are awful people out there who hate them for something as stupid as not being born white.

I had to explain to kids no older than 11 that racists and domestic terrorists are going to be emboldened through these years and the fact that they are children... Doesn't matter, they will hurt them if they get the chance.

I had to explain this in tears to them because those kids are going to be the ones who experience it and start to understand how fucking vile this world really is. A world I've been fighting to change so they never have to see shit like that.

I told them how beautiful diversity was and how they shouldn't be ashamed of who they are and where they come from no matter who tells them they should.

I told them to choose compassion and love each other and enjoy the different perspectives your friends around you have.

I told them not all laws are made in morality and to fight for what's right.

I had to kill the innocent bliss of children because I fucking KNEW garbage would be emboldened and would seek to hurt them and their families. And they needed to be prepared for that fucking reality.

And the worst part is, they didn't truly understand what I was trying to say. Why? Cause they're fucking 9 to 11 year olds. They're still getting used to the world and I just had to explain to them that they live in a world where they are truly hated because some of them speak fucking Spanish or Arabic sometimes.

I HAD TO EXPLAIN TO GRADE SCHOOL CHILDREN THAT YOU MAGATS WILL HARM THEM WITH A SMILE

I don't think fucking white supremacists and trump supporters understand how much I want to fucking beat the dog shit out them.

I love my kids. To the point where I unabashedly despise those who voted against my kids fate and happiness.

If you voted for Trump, I find you worth less than the scum I avoid walking on. If you voted Trump, you're complicit in endangering my kids.

I hope you live in an abundance of failure so you can finally look in the mirror and actually see what you truly are.

If there's no Hell for you to rot in, I'll make Hell myself and drag you in it by the neck.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 23

Warnings: None

Two long stressful weeks had gone by and they still had not heard from the council. Two long weeks of complete utter distress for the wolves. Waiting around for an answer was nerve-wracking for them. None of them had any energy to focus or be happy. Minho had tried to push for an outcome but his friends told him they could not push anymore as the investigation went on. There were certain things they could not rush if they wanted to get it right, but if Minho or Jeongin had any more evidence that would help, the council would need it. This led to Minho having to bring Y/N to meet the council to give her statement on Ateez and her treatment. It was an uncomfortable conversation that needed to happen but the council were brutal as they probed for different invasive facts. She had to go through it twice on the same day with two separate council members. Y/N knew it was necessary but it was still traumatic for her. Even Hyunjin had to give an account on the same day. Still, all of these events happened two weeks ago and no outcome was made. It was upsetting even for Chan who spent countless nights going through different werewolf lore books, search engines, and paperwork to find a way of taking him down.

As the days went on the more uncertain the wolves felt. Changbin hadn't even gone to the gym for a week in fear that something would happen if he wasn't there. Minho didn't have the energy to cook properly and the wolves didn't have the energy to eat either. Jeongin also wasn't himself either. He too spent nights awake as he went through Y/N's notes trying to find another way if all else fails. He was getting highly stressed but he didn't want to keep asking Y/N questions in case she became worried, but it was too late. Y/N already knew. Y/N could feel it deep in the bottom of her stomach as she hugged her pillow, sniffing to herself in her bedroom all alone. Y/N knew they were not going to win. They were smarter and they were always ten steps ahead. Ateez knew everything about Chan, whether it was true or false they could make it true. Y/N hated this. Y/N needed to know the reality of it and the only one who was going to tell her was Hyunjin. He lived there with her and before her. He could provide a much better insight.

Y/N sighed and wiped her tears before heading to Hyunjin's room. She knew it was the middle of the night but she wanted to speak to him. She needed to so she made her way to his bedroom to knock on his door, but he had already opened it to allow her to walk into his room. He was sitting on his bed cross-legged waiting for her to come to him. "Come here little wolf. It's alright." Hyunjin called, beckoning her to sit on his bed so she did. She sat on his bed and fell into his arms crying. She didn't know why but she felt safe and familiar with him. She felt at home with him, despite her lack of memories, she felt loved. "I'm sorry," Y/N muttered as she wiped her tears, taking notice of his room. It was so modest but artistic. It didn't match their home at all. His room was a luxury contemporary room. Simple, yet it was him. "Hyunjin," Y/N whispered as she sat up, looking at the red-haired wolf. "What does Hongjoong have on Chan." "His uncle, his brother that died, his destruction of packs for an omega. He has a lot." Hyunjin whispered as he wiped her tears gently. He hated seeing her cry and it wasn't because she was an ugly crier, it was the fact she cried when she felt helpless. "It's not going to work is it?" Y/N whimpered. "I don't think so. In hindsight they're both as bad as each other, neither were nice to people at the beginning. Morally Chan is better. He cares about his wolves but his previous actions do not show that. Hongjoong only cares for power and doesn't care about his wolves, only Seonghwa. He loves Seonghwa." Hyunjin admitted as he stroked her hair lovingly. "What do we do? We have to win somehow!" Y/N stressed as she held his hand, playing with his veiny long fingers that wore a certain ring on his finger. "Did I give you this?" Y/N asked as she looked into his brown muddy eyes. "Hmm, you did." Hyunjin hummed as he brought his hands up to her face, brushing his thumb over his cheek. "We need to be patient. There is still time but we won't win with the council that is a fact, but we need to disarm them." "We remove the fucking circle," Y/N growled her eyes glowing blue. "Still a challenge. We would need a witch and that goes against Chan's morals. He likes to keep the peace between them. There might be a way to use his own weapon against him without using a witch but that means meddling with dark aura." Hyunjin explained causing Y/N to huff as she rested her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. This appeared to be more complicated than she thought. Hyunjin softly stroked her back, kissing her head gently before he leaned his head against hers, holding her close to him. Hyunjin was scared of letting her go, he hadn't held her in over four years and he wasn't prepared for her to leave him. Y/N lifted her head up presenting him with a small smile before she kissed him. It was an innocent kiss. One that was needed. It held so much love and care. It was a perfect kiss. "I should go check on Chan," Y/N murmured. "Yeah. You should." Hyunjin whispered as he kissed her once more before she headed to Chan who was still staring at his computer.

Chan had become fixated on protecting his pack with Jeongin. What Y/N hadn't expected was for Jeongin and Minho to be in Chan's office with a pile of books. "What is going on? Why are you all awake?" It was more of a rhetorical question but she still wanted an answer. "Channie, what has happened," Y/N asked as she pulled his hands away from his head so she could sit on his lap. Y/N pressed her forehead against his before she connected their lips. Chan kissed her back before he held her hands worriedly. "I'm sorry baby." Chan apologised, "I'm sorry because I might have to do something you're not going to like and I need you to be okay with it. I need you to know it's because I love you and there might not be another way." "What is going on?" Y/N asked, getting up slowly as she looked at the two wolves on the sofa. "Minho? Jeongin?" "The council find Chan more guilty than Hongjoong. Chan had broke several laws because he raided four werewolf packs and attacked several omegas. Who didn't die, but were harmed. Not only that Chan has two werewolves who have been cursed with dark aura." Minho spoke, his voice cold as he stared at the empty glass. "So?" Y/N asked. "If we continue this case. The council will disarm us and destroy us. Chan could be banished." Jeongin explained coldly. "Hyunjin is our liability that poses a problem. Apparently, he coerced you and brainwashed you into completing a ritual against Hongjoong, so in the eye of the council you are more in danger here than with Ateez." "That's bullshit." Y/N shoured. "Y/N." Minho warned, silencing her. "Y/N. Come here." Chan called but she wouldn't move. "Next week I am going to meet with a friend of mine of how we can take Ateez down or at least remove them. If it comes down to it, I might need to take Hongjoong out. I need you to be okay with that." "Why don't you ask Hyunjin to help you? He knows more. So do I. We don't need any more people involved." Y/N stressed. "Y/N." Minho warned again causing her to glare at him. "Be careful of your tone. We're doing our best so listen to Chan." "You don't even trust Hyunjin to help. You're keeping it from him." Y/N snarled. "Y/N!" "Fuck off, Minho, your not even an alpha," Y/N shouted. "Y/N." Chan shouted, hitting the table, and making her jump slightly. "Do not speak to him like that. He is your beta. He is an elder and knows much more than you. You are only an omega. No your place." Y/N stood there and scoffed. Only an omega, huh? That's low. She couldn't believe he said that. "Only an omega." Y/N laughed, "I know more about Hongjoong than you, but go ahead. Fuck it all up. He will KILL YOU!" Y/N left the room, slamming the door before walking into Chan's room to throw his paperwork all over the floor before stomping on it. Fucking idiots.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim

[monimccoythings]

How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.6

this is kinda silly and cheesy but i just wanted to get this thought out

Summary: Y/N meets Padfoot

Today was decidedly awful.

You had the worst day at work. You were on your feet all day. your boss was in a terrible mood, yelling at both you and Lily and threatened to fire Mary towards the end of the day. You knocked a shelf over, spilling loads of products in the back. And to top it all off, it was pouring rain.

You had gotten off earlier than you’d expected, the one good thing about today. You opened the door to the house and entered, kicking off your shoes and taking off your soaked coat. You needed something to warm you up and help you relax finally. You thought about making some soup or maybe asking Remus to make you a cup of tea.

That’s when you saw the dog.

A large black, scruffy dog lying asleep on your couch. You gasped and rushed over and sat next to it, instantly petting it. “Hello! What are you doing here?” you said in a high pitched cutesy voice. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?”

You looked for a collar and a name tag, but there was none. Who’s dog is this?

“Hey boys?” you called out. There was no response meaning that they had likely stepped out for a bit. You wondered where this dog had come from. Did the boys get one without telling you? Did the dog wander in itself? You’d ask them when they returned home but for now, you decided to just look after the dog.

The dog was now awake and tail wagging as you continued to pet it. The dog was very cute and you could be convinced to keep it if the boys wanted it. The dog looked at you intrigued, but hesitant. You understood, you were a new person, it was a new dog, you two didn’t know each other. But you loved dogs, and petting it was just so irresistible. 

“Hi baby. You wanna watch something with me until the boys get home? We can just sit here and cuddle on the couch,” you said in the same voice. The dog tilted its head at you, but its tail was wagging like crazy. You turned on a show you know the other boys hated, intending on catching up on it while they were out, but you could have sworn you heard the dog huff. 

You sat back and the dog took it upon itself to crawl halfway in your lap. You smiled and pet it. It was incredibly warm so you weren’t complaining. Its fur was soft, silky. You enjoyed the little cuddle buddy. 

You laid there for a little while enjoying the company, until you heard the door open and two voices usher in. James and Remus with grocery bags in hand. You turned in your seat to beam at them.

“Hey love! You’re home early.” James smiled back at you.

You skipped the hellos and went straight to questions. “Who’s dog is this? Is it ours? It's so sweet!” James looked puzzled but Remus’s face blanched.

The two boys saw the dog in question’s head peak over the top of the couch and they instantly shared an exasperated look. 

James chuckled nervously. “Uh-that’s-uh, Sirius-”

“Sirius knows the person the dog… belongs to.” Remus interrupted.

You laughed and teased, “Sirius knows people other than you two?” You continued petting the dog, kissing its snout repeatedly. “Do you know its name?” 

Remus began the same time as James. “No-”

“Padfoot.”

“Padfoot?” you repeated. “What a silly name for a silly little puppy.” you said in the voice. The dog licked your cheek as you giggled. 

Remus looked mortified and Jamed slapped a hand over his mouth.

“What?” you asked. “You two don’t like dogs or something?”

Remus shook his head and muttered “That’s definitely not it…”

You ignored the other two and continued loving on Padfoot. Such a pretty dog. 

“Where is Sirius by the way? I haven't seen him.” You asked the boys. You didn’t think Remus’s face could lose any more color, you were wrong. 

“U-uh I’m not sure. James?” Remus turned to James for help.

“I think he is… working on his bike.” James answered for Remus.

“Oh I see,” you said, still confused as to why they were acting so skittish. “Are you two going to make dinner tonight?” They nodded and you smiled, relieved you could relax for the rest of the night, possibly with your new furry companion. You stood from the couch and made your way over to the stairway. “Ok, well I need to change. Wanna come with me boy?” you asked the dog.

It jumped from the couch and headed straight for the stairs, like it knew where it was going. 

James coughed, “Maybe Padfoot should stay down here.”

The dog turned and again, huffed, almost human-like. 

“Oh, it’s ok! He can come to my room, I don’t have a problem watching over him.” you explained. 

“But-” James started before you could turn and head upstairs. “But what if the owner comes to get him?”

“James, I’ll be upstairs for like 5 minutes tops.” you laughed.

Padfoot raced up the steps before either boy could protest again, and you turned to follow him up. You reached your room and Padfoot had already made himself cozy on your bed. You kissed the top of his head when walking by, opening your dresser to pull out a sleep shirt and some shorts. You began to unbutton your pants, but a pounding on your door halted your actions. “Um, come in?” you called out. You were still dressed so you didn’t think anything of it.

James burst through the door. “Uh, Padfoot's owner is here,” he said quickly.  Damn what a coincidence. 

“Aww,” you frowned, looking at the dog. You walked over and planted one more kiss right between his eyes. “I hope to see you soon, good boy.” 

The dog stood and stretched, then hopped down from your bed, giving James what seemed to be a dirty look as he left. James following, closing your door to let you finally change. They were being weird. Maybe they just didn’t want you to get too attached to it and be sad when it left. 

You change into your comfy clothes, and head back downstairs. You heard hushed arguing as you stepped into the kitchen. The boys, all three now in attendance, looked at you and halted their conversation. “Dog gone?” you asked, slightly dejected. Sirius smirked but it was James who answered.

“Yeah, sorry.” he said, and did look a little sorry.

“It's ok,” you said sadly but decided to let it go. “What are you making Remmy?”

The rest of the night was pretty normal, typical. You ate with the boys and then went to the living room to watch something together. You enjoyed the time with them, talking and laughing like usual, but the night became the early hours of the morning and you decided to head up to bed. Bidding the boys goodnight, you made your way up to your room and got in bed, falling asleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Just down the hall, in Remus’s room, the boys gathered. 

“Ok before you two start,” Sirius said in an amused tone “I was asleep on the couch when she walked in, I didn’t have time to change.”

“We’ve talked about this before, you can’t be Padfoot around here, not until she knows.” James lectured.

“Yes, but when is that going to be?” Sirius asked the two, who didn’t have an answer. They had many conversations about the whole magic problem. How they couldn’t change into their animal forms in front of her, they couldn’t do magic in front of her, they couldn’t be around her during the full moons (which they usually snuck out through Sirius’s window and into the woods behind the house.)

Sirius knew that it was a… serious… matter, but at least one thing went his way. 

Laying on Remus’s chest, curled up into his side, James on the other, Sirius laughed quietly, “She kissed me.”

Remus chuckled too, leaving his recklessness be for tonight. “You were a dog.” He pointed out.

“Still kissed me” Sirius said, still smiling. He smiled until he fell asleep with that thought.

Taglist 💌 : @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar  @champomiel

[brainscrems]

I’m sorry, why do you think that’s what I want? I didn’t say, “welcome hateful people into our movement”. I said make our movement welcoming of male allies in the fight against the patriarchy. I’m saying that these right wing con-artists, like nick fuentes, prey on young white men to get radicalize them into becoming nazi shitheads and, if we’re smart, we’ll make a better pitch to them to PREVENT them from becoming those people and, if we’re lucky, get some who were already won over to realize what they’ve done and switch sides. And, in fact, I think there is a simple shift we can do. We keep all of our old messaging, we just add something new in too. The patriarchy’s selling point to these working class white men is the american dream of the 1960s and it’s tied into capitalism too. It’s selling the good job, the house you worked for, the obedient wife, the good christian children. It tells them, “hey, you’re the man. You do the work, be the image of extreme stoicism, fit the roles you tell us, and your reward is this perfect family where YOU’RE the king. Now, the real power? That’s for us at the top. But if u do ur job well u can have it all in microcosm. Your own power over others, and that’s all you’ll ever need to be happy.” But, part of what it demands is these men be emotionally isolated from all those around them. That they focus on the nuclear family and their power there and not relationships with others. This is the point. If the workforce is emotionally closed off from each other worker solidarity and collective action becomes harder. So it demands this of men, and gives them a place to be kings in return. It sells this dream and says that’s what will make them happy. This is a lie. You cannot be happy while emotionally closed off from others. It sells men power disguised as happiness, which they get in exchange for their labor and misery. What we need to do in our movements is sell men that the patriarchy is bad FOR them, because it is! Power isn’t happiness and chasing the dream the patriarchy gave you will lead to nothing but misery. We need to tell men to put down their anger and accept the world wasn’t built for them. We need to tell men that the promise of their happiness is a lie. That if they want to be happy they will find that happiness, not through the power they were promised, but through the solidarity and community they can build by working with us for a better world. We need to tell these men that if they want to find a place, that if they want to connect with people, that they will be loved and respected here and the only price they need to pay is that of adding their voice to ours in the fight for a better world. We are selling to people that they should give up the power that society gave them for the benefit of others, and that is a hard sell. We should instead be selling the promise of happiness and a world where they are no longer expected to perform the damaging requirements that the patriarchy expects of them. That message not only sells to men our other messages wouldn’t reach, but works in tandem with our messages about women’s liberation. These messages work well together and there is no reason we should not use them both.

what is this "as someone who escaped the alt right pipeline" failpost I've seen so many people vague about

[mrsriddles-blog]

I miss my mamas | C.S

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

WC: 1.2k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, angst, fluff…

Summary: In which you are on a little trip and Chris is missing you…

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem? You've been all weird and mopey the entire video." Nick asks from the backseat as he pulls out a box of donuts, partially for him, but partially to hopefully cheer Chris up.

"Oh nothing." Chris mumbles, crossing his arms as he pouts.

Matt raises his eyebrows in question, shaking his head as he sighs.

"Come on, Chris. What's going on?" Matt asks, his tone softer than Nicks abrasive and abrupt one.

"Guys, it's nothing." Chris huffs, looking out the window.

His phone buzzes and he moves faster than his brothers had ever seen him move in their lives. It was the most excited he seemed during this video until he saw the notification and frowned and dramatically throws his phone to the floor.

"Alright bud, we are going to talk about this. What's going on?" Matt demands.

"I miss my mamas!" Chris cries dramatically.

He genuinely was upset, his eyes watering as he looked away. He felt like a baby right now. He just missed you, his girlfriend of two years. You both had grown so close to the point you saw each other every day. You practically lived with the triplets. But, you told Chris you needed to handle some stuff and do a bit of traveling to see family. He assumed it'd be a few days, but it's been two weeks.

To make matters worse, the time zones were different so texting and calling was almost impossible. The most he got from you was "good morning" or "goodnight, I love you baby!"

Matt frowns, realizing how upset his brother truly was. Nick was laughing over the nickname he had for you, not realizing he was genuinely upset. Matt pulls Chris into a hug and Nick stops laughing as he realized that Chris was indeed upset.

"Hey, she'll be back soon." Nick says softly, trying to cheer him up.

"She said a few days. It's been two fucking weeks. We haven't been apart this long in forever." Chris says, genuinely upset.

Matt reaches forward to turn the camera off. He hated seeing his brother so upset. It wasn't like him to get upset. He was always the most energetic, the happiest and goofiest of the three of them.

"Have a donut, you'll feel better." Nick urges.

"I don't want a fucking donut. I want to see my girlfriend." Chris huffs, turning away from his brothers.

Matt looks at Nick who nods after shoving his donut in his mouth as he looked at his phone. Matt started the car, driving back to their house.

Chris was the first out of the car, storming into the house before slowing as the lights were on when they weren't on when they left. He heard shuffling and moving around as both Matt and Nick walk in. You poke your head around the corner, confused as you thought you had more time.

"Mamas?" Chris mumbles in surprise.

"He got upset. Sorry, we couldn't stall any longer." Matt says, sending an apologetic smile to you.

"It's alright. Come here, bubs. I wanted to surprise you when I got back." You say, opening your arms in which he wasted no time getting to you.

"I thought you wouldn't be back for my birthday." He mumbles, thinking about tomorrow.

"Hey! There's us too!" Nick grumbles.

"She's my girlfriend." Chris argues.

"Alright, alright, I'm right here, bubs. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. In fact, that was part of the reason why I was gone a bit longer than expected. I was getting your guys' presents. Had to be picked up, not shipped." You explain.

"You got us a present too?" Nick asks.

"Well duh! You two are like my brothers. You guys are such dummy's sometimes. I love you two to death and I missed you guys a bunch!" You say, leaving Chris's hold to hug both Matt and Nick.

"You didn't have to get us anything." Matt says, his cheeks flushed red.

"Uh, yeah I did. I've got the coolest presents. Anyhow, dinner should be about done. I set a movie up for us all to watch and set up the couches for us." You explain, turning to make your way to the kitchen.

Chris followed like a lost puppy and Nick and Matt said they'd grab the drinks after they change. Chris wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck. You lean back against him as you continue to make plates.

"You can't ever leave me that long again, ma." He mumbles.

"I don't think I can...I felt like I was going to lose it after two days. It was the hardest two weeks of my life. If I ever got to go that long again, I'm bringing you with me." You admit, your cheeks flushing red at your confession.

"Thank god...we hardly texted and called. I know it was different time zones...but I was really scared we were drifting apart." He admits quietly.

You turn, wrapping your arms around his neck as you look up at him with furrowed brows, pouty lips and glossy eyes. His hands settle on your hips.

"Chris, I don't think I could ever drift apart from you. Those two weeks were brutal...but it made me realize how much I truly love you—not that I didn't know it before, but that entire time I thought of you. I couldn't not think of you. I would see things and would be like, Chris would love this. I wanted to call and text, but I know you and the boys have been busy. I didn't want to interrupt your guys’ work. But, I realize how much I love that we are constantly near each other. Some may call us clingy, but I love whatever it is we have. I feel so content, happy and safe with you and I wouldn't have it any other way." You murmur.

"I missed you so much, mamas." He murmurs, leaning down and kissing you softly.

"We are coming in! Be clothed!" Nick yells.

You pull apart from the kiss, chuckling as you pull Chris into a tight hug. He laughs, holding you closer to him.

"I miss you too. I promise I won't ever leave that long again and if I do, you're coming with me." You murmur.

"What about me?" Nick asks with a pout.

"You're such an attention seeking whore." Matt says, rolling his eyes.

"Okay! Matt's arrived! Here we go with the fucking Mattitude." Nick says, staring at Matt with surprise.

"I'd bring you two with me too, but you guys would be in the backseat. Chris would be in the front with me." You say with a soft smile.

"He called me an attention seeking whore." Nick grumbles as he helps grab drinks as you and Chris grab plates.

"You two need to be nicer to each other." You laugh softly, leading the way to the living room and setting plates down.

"He started it!" He pouts.

"Dear god." Chris mumbles.

"They were having a moment, idiot! It was cute!" Matt exclaims.

"Guys, it's okay. Chris and I don't mind. We were about to bring the plates in anyway. There's no need to get upset." You say softly.

You take Chris's hand before he could say something to go against your words. He squeezes your hand before pulling you to your guys' favorite couch.