#it’s like I can smell the ice in my living room

[azzifuddfanpage]

All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks.        -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms. 

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss. 

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite. 

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill. 

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her. 

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone. 

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey 

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u 

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi. 

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck. 

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume. 

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle. 

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her. 

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom. 

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom. 

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center. 

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her. 

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes. 

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly. 

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around. 

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe. 

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh. 

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric. 

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh. 

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest. 

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan. 

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction. 

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her. 

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties. 

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit. 

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy. 

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them. 

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her. 

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state. 

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.” 

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her. 

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige. 

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy. 

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole. 

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist. 

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top. 

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure. 

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding. 

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets. 

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily. 

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down. 

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly. 

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that. 

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock. 

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey. 

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means. 

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused. 

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.” 

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.” 

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused. 

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes. 

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back. 

[theflyingfeeling]

conversations

~

just a plotless little Olli/Allu something I wanted to get out of my head because it's been keeping me up for several nights now. similar in style to this weird little fic, but not necessarily in the same universe (unless you want it to be)

~

i.

[by the fire]

The crack of the wood burning in front of them. The remains of a friends’ get-together, empty cans and half-finished bowls of crisps on the coffee table. A guitar resting in the corner because Tommi told them to call it a day already. Olli’s quiet breathing and his unreadable eyes, fixed on the fire, reflecting its warmth (or perhaps it was the other way around). 

“Do you ever…” Olli shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me.” 

Olli’s eyes close and open again, his lips part and close, the fire swallowing whatever he’s going to say, it seems. Aleksi wants to grab the poker and prod it down to mere embers.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were… different.”

Aleksi dares not to guess what it and things were.

(He fears he’s wrong, and what might happen if he isn’t.)

“You know, if you had made different decisions. Or if you had… met someone at a different time.” 

Olli’s voice is hardly louder than the wintery silence around them, but Aleksi clings on to every word. 

Drowns in them. 

(Wishes they’d mean what he needs them to mean.) 

Dark eyelashes rest on rosy cheeks. A hand moves closer to Aleksi’s on the downy rug. Almost rests over it, hesitates, then does it anyway. 

Aleksi’s walls cave in and it’s hard to breathe when wet eyes find his own. 

“Do you know what I’m trying to tell you at all?”

Can I say no but still expect you to see through my lies? That’s all you seem to do these days.

Can I say yes and still have you hold my hand in yours like this? I might crumble if you let go.

“Maybe.” 

They hold hands as the fire burns out. They hold hands and the silence mocks their cowardice. They hold hands and Olli’s t-shirt is soft against Aleksi’s cheek, his chin quivering on top of Aleksi’s head. 

(From the cold that has fallen into the room, Aleksi decides.)

ii. 

[in the tourbus] 

A drummer snoring in the bottom bunk. Someone tossing and turning and grunting in their sheets. A thick curtain staring back at Aleksi on the other side of the narrow aisle. 

His phone buzzing. 

I miss you.

Aleksi glances at the curtain. It’s motionless, expectant. 

I’m right here?

There’s a barely audible sigh.

No, you’re not. Been absent all day and I miss you. 

Aleksi could beg to differ, but he’d have nothing to defend himself with (knowing Olli is right). He could agree, but what if Olli asked him why (knowing he can’t tell him why)? 

A compromise, Aleksi later convinces himself, to choke off the sound of his guilt and shame screaming slander at him for not knowing better. 

Aleksi does know better, but acts against such wisdom nevertheless. 

Come over here then.

A quiet whoosh of a curtain being pulled aside, then another, then something warm and soft crawls to him in the dark and wraps around him. 

A comforting scent steals all the air from Aleksi’s lungs (how could he smell so good even when living off truckstop showers?). 

A nose roaming over Aleksi’s neck brings pathetic whimpers to Aleksi’s mouth (does he not remember where they are?). 

Fidgeting fingers at the hem of Aleksi’s shirt make him tremble until they settle on his waist (and melt into the skin there like butter even though they’re ice cold there are shivers running along Aleksi’s spine). 

Lips tracing unspoken words on Aleksi’s skin where his collar bones meet (the shivers pass). 

Want you, Aleksi reads from the lips (in comes the ache in his chest). 

You can’t, Aleksi writes on Olli’s hairline, above his temple (his favourite spot). 

But I do, is the soundless response. And you do too. 

(And Aleksi did too.)

iii.

[in the studio]

A forgotten project on a laptop screen. A finished bottle of merlot. A joke that was a little too funny (or not at all funny) for them to forget themselves like that.

A nose to a nose, a pair of lips almost touching another. 

Olli’s eyes are unfocused, drifting between Aleksi’s eyes and mouth. 

“Should we… go back upstairs soon?” 

I shall make my speciality, she had promised them. The twinge of remorse is not enough to move Aleksi from the couch. 

“We should,” he says just in case, so that later he can fool his conscience and say had tried. 

A scented candle flickering by the laptop, yet all Aleksi can smell is Olli’s cologne. All that wine, yet Aleksi is drunk on something else entirely. It’s shameful, and Aleksi does feel ashamed for it, does beat himself up for it, but when Olli is right there on his couch and softening his brain like booze, Aleksi drops all his weapons to fight against it. 

There is no sound judgement in what they’re doing, nor even an ounce of self-preservation by this point. The further they go each time, the closer they come to being caught red-handed, and in a way, maybe that’s what they’re both waiting for. 

For a bandmate to walk in and beat the shit out of them, so that they’d maybe come back to their senses.

For a girlfriend to suspect something, anything, and force the truth out of them, so that they can put an end to it all, either for good or for worse. 

A ping sounding from Aleksi’s phone informing them of dinner is all they get instead. It’s enough to startle them, but not enough to completely lead them away from temptation.

iv.

[in the studio, scene 2]

[[inside him]]

The wall feels cold and harsh against Aleksi’s back, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can still taste his girlfriend’s praised curry off Olli’s lips, but even that’s not going to stop him from pushing Olli towards the couch. 

Olli below him is nothing like the cold and harsh floor, but instead velvety and radiating such heat that goes right through Aleksi’s bones. The taste of Olli is nothing like the spicy dish they had upstairs, but sweet and soothing, yet it leaves Aleksi hungrier than he was before dinner. 

They don’t talk. They don’t need to, not out loud. Instead, they have an entire conversation without ever making a sound, without speaking a word. 

Do you want this as much as I do? Aleksi’s fingers ask at the waistband of Olli’s trousers. 

Yes, Olli’s hips answer as they lift off the couch so Aleksi can take the trousers off. 

Am I hurting you? Aleksi’s thumb on Olli’s cheek asks. 

No, Olli’s tongue inside Aleksi’s mouth replies. 

Like this? Aleksi’s hardness moving inside Olli asks. 

Yes, like that, Olli’s entire body responds, arching, glowing, trembling.

They still don’t bother breaking the silence that fells in the room afterwards, when they’re all done and spent, lying in their own sweat and cum.

What are we going to do? Aleksi’s eyes ask.

What are we doing to do? Olli’s dark gaze echoes his question. 

Aleksi wishes he knew. 

Aleksi wishes he could find the answer in Olli’s mouth. 

v.

[under a birch tree]

The sky was white and blue and pink, and the last band of the day just got on the stage. Olli’s finger is still bleeding from when he scratched it on something during Balboa. It leaves a stain on Aleksi’s hand when Olli grabs it. Olli is drunk, but somehow his steps are anything but unsteady as he leads them behind the village of blue Bajamaja stalls. Maybe Aleksi is tipsy enough himself to not notice or care. 

“Olli, what–” and then he’s being pressed against a white tree trunk, deprived of his right to speak with his bottom lip in between Olli’s teeth. His teeth sunk in too deep, so that they’re both bleeding now.

Drowsy eyes stare up at him. Olli is drunk, but not in a tipsy way that makes him giggly and stupid, nor in the trashy way that has him scream-singing along to a song he doesn’t know in one moment and throwing up on Tommi’s shoes the next. He’s drunk in a gloomy way instead, one that sometimes had him sob against anyone’s shoulder, for no reason and for all the reasons at the same time. 

“Stay at mine tonight,” Olli begs him, his lips never leaving Aleksi’s, his eyeliner running down his cheeks. ‘Mine’ (‘yours and hers’) is just some five kilometres away, and Aleksi’s hotel purposely on the opposite side of the city. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

As if any of it had ever been. 

“She’s not home.” 

As if that somehow makes it any less wrong (but it does explain the regretful frown that’s been stuck on Olli’s face the whole day). 

“Still.”

“Then I’ll take you here.” 

The foolishness of it would make Aleksi laugh if he was sober enough to think that rationally, and if he didn’t feel as if they were running out of time, and if it wasn’t Olli.

“You can’t.”

The shakiness of his own voice would not have convinced himself either. 

“Aleksi, I want you.” A wet mouth is leaving its tracks all over Aleksi’s neck. 

“We’re in public,” Aleksi almost sobs and hates how the alternative to do it in private will tarnish yet another home. 

“Aleksi, mua panettaa.”

The worst thing is…

…Aleksi knew from the start he was gonna give in.

vi.

[in the studio, scene 3]

[[alone]]

A poorly-working radiator. Bottles of Pepsi that have been keeping him awake (and company) all evening. A pillow and a duvet on the couch in crumpled Moomin sheets, brought down from upstairs. 

Gonna be late ‘til I finish the project. Wouldn’t want to wake you up when I come back, he had explained.

Do as you please, she had said, never once lifting her gaze. Neither would Aleksi, if he was her. 

He could barely look at himself in the mirror these days. 

The radiator and the woolly socks he had found wrapped up under the Christmas tree were nowhere near enough to keep his blood circulating, nowhere near enough to comfort him so that he could fall asleep. 

He grabs the phone and hopes he’s not the only one still awake. 

Olli picks up within seconds. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping yet?” Olli asks him. He’s wearing a black hoodie and an ever blacker expression. 

“Why aren’t you?”

Olli looks down to hide whatever emotion he was almost about to reveal. 

“I was gonna call you. I wanted to ask you something.” 

Aleksi waits. 

“Do you… do you remember that one time in… I can’t remember actually. Somewhere in the Midwest maybe. That one time it was thundering real loud. 

And you woke me up to listen to it with you?

“Yeah, I think I do remember.”

“Do you remember how the rain was coming down in buckets?”

Yes, and your eyes were as dark as they are now.

“And do you remember that one morning in Colorado? When it had snowed overnight and the bus was freezing.” 

And you crawled in my bed again, slid your hands under my shirt again. 

“And that one freaky hotel in… was it Amsterdam? Where they had that strange shower thing.”

And where you fucked me for the first time (yes, even in that strange shower). 

“And… and do you remember when we were in Tokyo. It was so beautiful there.”

I only remember the early mornings and you biting my thighs to wake me up, and you riding me when we couldn’t sleep, and you showing me that vibrator you had bought. 

I only remember how shy you looked all of a sudden, and how the shade of your cheeks matched the shade of that toy when I pushed it in. 

“I wish we could go back.” 

The tear-choked confession brings Aleksi back to the present. 

“Back where?”

Olli shrugs. “Anywhere. Tokyo, maybe.” 

Kissing under an out-of-bloom cherry tree. 

“Me too,” Aleksi says. 

Maybe that’s what it would be like. 

If things were different.

~

authors note: the Finnish word panettaa is not the easiest to translate but it means that one is feeling horny. a more direct translation would be something along the lines of "I feel like fucking" or "I want/need to fuck"

[stars-hockey]

Damn, I’ve missed it here 🥹

[pboogerswbb]

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

-

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 

“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.” 

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!” 

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

[seattlesellie]

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

[suncoved]

BIG MAN ON CAMPUS! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; fratboy!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; you come to your first college party and have the worst panic attack of your life. who knew your knight in shining armour would be the captain of the biggest fraternity and the biggest fuck boy on campus

warnings ; panic attacks, anxiety, drugging, angst but like fluff!!

"Liv, i'm really not sure about this"

You're best friend and roommate looked at you with a blank stare, watching as you pulled the tight white dress down that had ridden up your thighs. She had dragged you out of your dorm only 20 minutes ago, telling you that if you didn't come she was going to wake you up with a bucket of ice water.

"Cmon babe, you made me promise i would drag you to at least one party this year. and i don't break a promise. Which also means that i promise if you don't like the first 30 minutes, then we can go home and eat 30 pounds of ice cream and pass out in our makeup"

You smiled at her, trying to push yourself through whatever anxiety was coursing through you. Liv was really a good friend, even if she was harsh about it at times, you know that she wanted the best for you.

The smell of booze and sweat hit your nose immediately as you walked into the frat house, the music blasting and the rainbow lights blinding against the otherwise dark space.

Liv pulled you to the corner of the living room, smiling brightly at you and giving you an extra tight hug. "Ok! I'm gonna go get us some drinks, stay right there and don't move!"

She had to yell because of how loud the music was, wasting no time before disappearing into the kitchen.

You stood in the party like a fish out of water, biting your lip as you looked down at your feet.

You'd like to say that you weren't that much of an introvert. I mean sure you liked to be curled up with a good book from time to time, and you were studying a bit more than healthy. But you like to go out and shop with friends, talk to new people in your classes and slumber parties on the weekends.

But parties were something you did not do. It had a combination of all the things you disliked most in life. loud music, people yelling, drinking, flashing bright lights and... frat boys.

You'd already been brought out of your shell at college, you were confident enough now to present in classes and partner up with new people on assignments, but this was pushing it.

You were a sweet girl, but naive. You didn't have enough experience with greedy men and even you would admit that you resembled a lost deer more often than you would like.

You lifted your head as you heard someone approach you, looking up quickly as you assumed it was Liv coming back from the kitchen.

But it wasn't Liv.

A brunette looked straight at you as you made eye contact with him, a red solo cup resting in his hand.

"What's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone in the corner" he stated, inching closer to you as you subconsciously stepped back a bit. "I'm Jeremey"

He reached out his hand to you to shake, only to receive a dumbfounded look on your face.

"Normally people reply back with their name, Babe"

"Oh! Sorry!" you replied flustered, repeating back your name as he grinned wide, showing his bright smile.

You didn't want to admit that when Jeremy was talking to you, you continually kept glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that the next person to walk out was Liv, who was going to hopefully come to save you from this conversation.

"Hey, I was experimenting in the kitchen, wanna try my new concoction." Jeremy dangled the red solo cup in your face, the liquid pink and smelling of strawberries.

"No thank you. I don't drink" you replied sweetly, hoping to be polite and not upset him. "There's barely any in it, promise. Pleaseee, don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?" He replied in annoyance.

A pang of hurt shot through you as you panicked, how could you have been so rude! Jeremy was taking time out of his day to talk to you and you rejected a drink he made you?

"Oh! no, I'm sorry. Thank you so much" you replied, taking the cup out of his hands and looking down at the liquid. He watched closely as you took a sip, your face twisting at the strong flavour of vodka.

"What do you think?" he smirked as he asked, bringing his hand up to your lips and wiping the extra liquid off with his thumb.

"Its- its great, thank you" you replied, your heart beating faster as you started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable. He watched you closely as he hinted to you to drink more, looking down at you like he was a wolf, and you were his prey.

You held back tears as you felt the room start to spin under your feet, your cheeks feeling hot and your hands shaking involuntarily. It hit you quickly that this wasn't alcohol that was making you feel like this, no, it was something else. Something much, much worse.

And you didn't want to stick around to figure out what it was.

"Um, sorry Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom" you spoke up, using all your courage to push through the crowd quickly as he followed.

Your breath was now speeding up as you fought your way through the waves of people, your steps becoming faster as you felt the room spinning more and more, tears streaming down your face.

You didn't know where the bathrooms in this place were, but you didn't have time to think about that now.

You just needed to find Liv, or someone, anyone.

Your eyes fell on a room at the end of the hall, light spilling out of the crack where the door failed to meet the floor.

You didn't have time to think, just to act. Your balled fist made it up to the door, knocking over and over again as you looked behind you, Jeremy in the crowd but looking all over for what you assumed to be you.

You didn't even want to begin to imagine how stupid you looked, or how impolite you were being as your knocks became harsher and frantic as Jeremy came closer.

"Jesus, learn how to wait your fucking turn" a voice sounded as the door opened. you didn't even look away from Jeremy as you tumbled into the bathroom, accidentally bringing the person in the door with you.

"Yo, what the fuc-" the aggressive voice came to a halt quickly, but you all you could focus on was your breathing, which was out of control.

Your cheeks were wet with tears as you closed your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and letting yourself sob. "I- I can't breathe" You let out, unknowing if you were talking to yourself or the person in the space with you.

You couldn't even handle your anxiety and emotions when you were in control of your body, let alone now.

That's the main reason you don't drink, because you tend to freak out to the point of no return, and this, this was much worse.

Your face was buried in your hands as the person softly closed the door to the bathroom. You didn't even register him softly moving you to sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom, kneeling down and removing your hands from your face.

You opened your eyes to see a man's face looking back at you, his features painted with worry and his body distanced enough away from you as to not upset you even more.

"Hey- hey. Its ok, what's wrong?" the boy asked, trying not to show how confused he was on how to deal with this situation. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head quickly at his statement, your tears slowly coming to a halt as your vision became less blurry. You could now see his face more clearly. Fluffy dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, soft pink lips.

"Uh, um. Wait" He spoke, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the bathroom. He started frantically opening draws and cabinets, stopping when he found a box of tissues under the sink.

"Here" you looked between him and the box he was handing you before taking it in your hands, your fingers brushing past each other momentarily.

"Thank you, i-i promise I'm not this much of a mess all the time." You replied, earning a soft smile from the man. "It's ok, it happens to the best of us. Have you taken anything, or just drunk?" He asked delicately.

Rafe didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment. Because he'd never felt it before.

Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, He was rude and got into fights on occasion, and he had been known to make girls complete the walk of shame out of his room involuntarily after a big night out, but that didn't mean he would ever leave a clearly intoxicated girl alone at a frat party.

But this, this was different. He had to know what was wrong with you, and he had to fix it. Sure you were a mystery to him and only met you seconds ago, but he wasn't leaving until he knew you were safe and sound... and had given him your name.

"I don't drink- or, at least I didn't. This boy gave me something, it tasted weird. Then I got all dizzy and now- now I can't stop crying" You rambled, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.

He gazed back at you, running his tongue around his teeth before seemingly snapping out of the trance he was in. "Did you know the guy?" He huffed, obviously agitated with your reply as he ran his fingers through his hair.

You shook your head softly, a wave of sadness running through you because you couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Tears started running down your face again suddenly as you kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

He lifted his thumb up to your cheek, softly brushing the tears away. "Hey it's okay, Don't worry. I'll keep you safe"

He didn't understand the feelings he was feeling, He had never craved to protect someone so much, He had never been this gentle in his whole life.

"What's your name?" he asked, distracting you to hopefully stop the flow of tears streaming down your face. He felt like if you didn't stop crying in the next minute, he was going to lose it.

You answered your name to him, earning a soft smile. "I'm Rafe, it's nice to meet you." He finished the sentence with your name, sending shivers down your spine.

"Liv" You gasped, making his head tilt in confusion before you shot up from your seat. "Wow, ma. Slow down, what do you mean?" Rafe replied, holding your hips to stop you from completely falling over. You sat back down quickly in defeat, your eyes wide with panic.

"Liv, I-I came here with my friend Liv. I'm gonna scare her. I need to find her." You gasped, your voice trembling as you spoke. "It's ok, We'll find her. Don't worry, it's ok." He repeated, desperate for your face to get back to your normal expression, aka, not struck with terror.

It was obvious to Rafe through the glaze cast over your eyes, the shaking from your hands and the drooping of your eyelids that someone had slipped something into your drink.

He had hosted enough parties at his fraternity to know what insecure, probably small dicked boys, not men, can do to women. And it revolted him.

"R-rafe. I'm gonna go to sleep now" You whispered, your body finally giving out before you could stop it, his arms quickly coming up to stabilize you before you toppled over.

He bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do, pulling your body into his arms as you didn't even stir. He was scared. So scared.

He didn't know what you were given, how much you were given, what would happen after you woke up, if you even woke up at all.

He carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom, unlocking the door and locking it behind him again. His room was the only one with a lock in the whole house, because he was damned if he was going to walk in on random strangers having drunk sex on his bed.

He rested you softly on his bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillow and resting a blanket over your body after taking your heels off.

He looked at your sleeping form, your long eyelashes resting on your cheeks, your hair falling softly over your shoulders and your chest rising and falling with your breaths.

He looked at you one last time before leaving his room, ignoring every person greeting him as he made a beeline straight for the living room.

He scanned over the large crowd in the house, numerous people dancing, some making out, his frat brothers doing keg stands, and one very panicked girl going up to every stranger she sees.

Rafe took no time before walking straight to the girl in the middle of the dance floor, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns immediately to face Rafe, her face struck with confusion.

"Are you Liv?" Rafe asks, earning a confused nod from the girl in front of him” I am! Have you seen my best friend anywhere? She's about yay height, really pretty, heart of gold, she kinda looks like that baby deer from that Disney movie, she's wearing this white dress and-"

Rafe stops her ramble with a quick nod causing her eyes to widen. "What? Where is she?"

"In my bed" Rafe replied, remembering he wasn't all that good with small talk. "What? What the fuck do you mean, in your bed? What did you do? I swear to god-"

"Ok, calm down. Someone gave her something. I found her in the bathroom sobbing before she passed out. I put her in my bed then came down here, end of story" He replied, starting to get slightly agitated.

The girl he now knows to be Liv quickly walks off, heading straight for upstairs where the bedrooms are. Rafe rolls his eyes before following swiftly behind her, though he's glad that there's someone out there other than him trying to protect his newfound soft spot.

Liv halts at all the bedrooms, looking expectantly at Rafe before he walks in front of her and opens his door. Liv immediately rushes to you, still passed out on Rafe's bed.

She sits next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Of course, on the first party she goes to, some sick fuck roofies her and she ends up in Rafe Cameron's bed" Liv speaks, not taking her eyes off you.

"How do you know my name?" Rafe asks, not even bothering to look at the person he's talking to as he focuses on your chest rising and falling. "Ha, everyone knows who you are Rafe. And if I find out you had anything to do with her getting hurt, I'm gonna chop your dick off and feed it to you and make sure everyone on campus knows it"

It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't slightly amused by your best friend's words, holding back his smile and keeping his face stern. "I would never do that shit. Especially not to her" Liv's eyebrow quirked in confusion at the last bit of his sentence.

She knows for a fact that you did not know Rafe Cameron before this night, let alone any frat boys. Liv could cry at the sight of your passed-out form, taking full blame and responsibility for the fact that you got hurt when she was meant to protect you.

She pulled her phone out from her purse, about to call an Uber back to the dorms for both of you. "No, I'll drive you" He stated, not leaving room for an argument

Liv nodded slowly before pulling the blanket off you, your body involuntarily starting to shiver from the cold air.

Rafe walked over to his closet, grabbing his warmest hoodie. Liv looked up at him as he raised your body softly, placing the hoodie over your head and softly lifting you up into his arms.

Rafe walked with Liv down to the road outside the fraternity house, receiving hundreds of stares from people in the crowd. But he didn't care, all he cared about was you.

He let Liv open the door to the backseat of his truck, allowing him to place you softly inside before Liv climbed in next to you, placing your head on her lap.

The ride was completely silent, barring Liv's directions to the dormitories, but she didn't miss the way he was constantly looking in the rearview mirror at you.

It didn't take long before Liv was leading the way to your dorm, Rafe trailing slowly behind with you in his arms.

She flicked the light on in your dorm, Rafe quickly knowing which bed was yours from the multiple stuffies and pink blankets. He lifted the covers before placing your head on the pillow once more, knowing Liv was going to get you changed before she slept.

"Thank you, Rafe, for looking out for her when I didn't" Liv said as Rafe walked to your door, nodding curtly in repose to her statement.

He gave you one last look before he walked out of your door, watching as Liv was about to shut the door on him after saying goodbye. Panicked he placed his foot in front of the door before it shut, forcing it open.

"C-can I get her number, please?"

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. ��I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can i request cregan stark modern au, with jaces younger or twin sister and maybe they like hide the relationship and its like fluffy and maybe smutty

Request: five times cregan and jace’s sister almost get caught and one time jace does find out about their relationship. I don’t think he would be too mad. He knows cregan is a good guy and would treat you well. 

I usually dislike body hair (personal preference) and beards, but Cregan has a short beard in this one (as he does in all of my fics for him) because I said so, and because he’s a Stark. I think it is mandatory and missing for his character — manifesting for a beard in season 3.  Also, this is 6.6k words...idk how that happened

p.s. You can find this fic on AO3 under the title Who are we to fight the alchemy

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of a fight and blood, short appearance of Larys Strong (he needs his own warning),

—

When you started college and moved in with Jace, he had warned his teammates that his sister was off limits and that if he caught any of them looking at you, he would not be afraid to throw hands. He may be smaller than a lot of his teammates, but Jace was very protective of you. 

They were good guys, brothers to Jace, but he also knew their history with girls. He knew the dirty secrets; the dramas, who they had sex with, where, and details that he wished he could forget about. They were not boyfriend material — at all. 

You were not going to lie, Jace’s teammates were hot hockey players. It was tempting to turn your life into a cliché book trope and hook up with one of them, but you refrained from doing so. They were not worth being another name on their list. 

Until one of them changed your mind. 

It was a Tuesday night. You were in your room, reading on your bed while Jace had friends over playing video games. You could hear them shout at the TV and each other. After a few chapters, you wandered to the kitchen to get a cookie from the cookie jar, but found its content empty. 

‘’Jace,’’ you said under your breath. 

Living with your brother had a certain strange familiarity to it, a comforting echo of home despite the newness of being on your own. But some things hadn’t changed. Like how Jace never mentioned when he emptied something. Like that one time you wanted to make spaghetti, only to discover he had left an empty pasta box in the cupboard. Or when he used your shower towel because his was in the laundry. These moments made you miss your mom's presence — she’d always been there to keep the peace and enforce some order.

As you stared at the empty jar with frustration, one of Jace’s friends walked in behind you, his eyes immediately landing on the same spot. You could not see who it was, but his tall shadow was towering over you and you could smell a faint woodsy cologne. 

‘’If you’re looking for a cookie, Jace ate them all,’’ you said, throwing your brother under the bus.

‘’That was me, actually,’’ admitted a deep voice with a northern accent from behind you. You turned to see Cregan standing there, his expression sheepish. ‘’Jace said to get anything I wanted. Sorry.’’

You forced a smile, the irritation fading as your eyes met his gray ones. ‘’It’s fine. I’ll get something else.’’ 

Cregan watched as you moved to the freezer above the fridge to get the ice cream out. You opened the lid and saw that it was almost empty, so there was no need to put it in a bowl. 

‘’Did you make them?’’ he asked as you reached for a spoon in the cutlery drawer.

‘’I did,’’ you answered with a smile. 

‘’They were really good.’’ 

‘’Thank you. If Jace baked them himself, they would have turned out like hockey pucks: black and hard,’’ you joked.

Cregan offered a light chuckle as he stepped towards the counter, his gray eyes studying the details of your face. He hadn’t really looked at you until now, respecting Jace’s warning, but now he was struggling to look away and go back to the living room. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Two months later, you found yourself making out with the Wolves’ captain in his big jeep. His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of soap and deodorant, having showered twenty minutes ago after practice. 

The windows were beginning to fog as you were kissing, your hands all over Cregan's shoulders and chest. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to grip his shirt when it grazed yours. You could drown in his kisses. 

Getting frustrated by the gear shift separating you, you attempt to climb over it and fumbled your way to the driver seat onto Cregan’s lap without breaking contact with his lips. You bumped your head and legs along the way, and let out a little curse. Cregan laughed, pulling back his seat as far as it would go so the steering wheel would not press in your back. 

From his new angle, you could feel the warmth of Cregan’s body against yours. It wasn’t as effective as cuddling in bed, but Jace would get home soon and Cregan’s small dorm bed was not made for two. He barely fitted himself. 

He slipped his large hands under your shirt, his thumbs inching up and up your sides, feeling your soft and warm skin while his mouth locked itself to your jaw. ‘’Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,'' he said as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your collarbone.

You rolled your hips to meet his, the friction causing Cregan’s breath to stutter. His hands were still in your shirt, large and warm, leaving trails of fire over your back. He felt like he was sixteen and in high school all again, not twenty-one and in college. 

‘’Gods, you’re going to kill me if your hand keeps going rubbing against me like that.’’ 

You smirked and tipped your head back to give him more room. ‘’Jace is not the boss of my relationships. I can see whoever I please,’’ you replied, raking your hand through his hair and grazing the side of his short beard.

Cregan scoffed against your neck. ‘’Then what are we doing in my car instead of your bed?’’ 

He was only teasing, but it still made you sigh. You didn’t think living with Jace would put a wrench in your dating life. He meant well, but gods was it frustrating. 

Not waiting for your response, Cregan continued to shower your neck with kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin before his lips soothed it. You didn’t think kisses would make you feel like this, but this man had an effect on your body that you could not explain. You pulled at his hair when he bit at the sensitive flesh there, leaving a small mark you will have to conceal later. 

You wished you didn’t have to hide your relationship. You wished you could kiss him whenever you desired, go to his games and wear his jersey and cheer for him loudly when he scored a goal, cuddle with him on the couch without looking at the door every five minutes to check if Jace was coming home. 

Cregan pulled back suddenly, looking up at you with his gray eyes. ‘’I should go, Jace is gonna come home soon. Walking from campus to here takes less than thirty minutes,’’ he said in a hushed tone, his breath coming in short puffs. 

‘’Just a few minutes more,’’ you bargained, stealing a few kisses from his lips, not yet ready to part. ‘’I have a class at 8pm tomorrow and you leave for your away game Saturday morning. I won’t be seeing you until Sunday or Monday.’’ 

He let out a sigh, also dreading the moment he’ll leave you, and held you for a moment, his hands gently running up and down your back. You drinked in his scent and warmth, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your head in his neck. 

The moment was ruined as you shifted and accidentally hit the horn with your ass, the loud sound echoing  in the parking lot. 

Startled, you jumped and then burst into laughter, but Cregan didn’t join in. His expression was stone serious as he stared intently at something in the distance. Confused, you followed his gaze and spotted Jace standing by the doors of your apartment building, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He was scanning the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out which car had honked, but with the lights off and the evening darkness, there was no way for him to tell which one it was.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

The second time you almost got caught together was before a hockey game. The team the Wolves were playing against was strong and Cregan texted you to come outside the locker room and give him a good luck kiss.  

You smiled at the text and sent a quick ‘coming’ to your boyfriend. ‘’I’m gonna get something to drink,’’ you told your friends. 

You snaked your way through the students and families waiting in the entrance to get to their seats and quickly made your way down to the locker room. You knew where it was from bringing over Jace’s skates last Saturday at practice. They were essential for getting on the ice, how could he forget them? 

Family, friends — and girlfriends — were not allowed in that area of the arena, so you kept an eye out for anyone from staff. You could always play the ‘I was looking for the bathroom’ card, but it would add another lie on top of the others you and Cregan were piling up since the beginning of your relationship. 

You found him leaning against the wall, waiting. He was in his compression pants and an old Wolves tee shirt, looking like a complete snack. You could see everything in those tight pants. And the way his hair was tied at the back made him look sexier. 

He looked up when he heard someone approach and a soft smile curled on his lips. ‘’There you are,’’ Cregan said, his voice low and gravelly as he stepped to you and pulled you to his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like a missing piece snapping into place. 

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, his hand cupping your face gently. It was supposed to just be a quick kiss — a quick ‘good luck’ smooch, not anything too serious. But the moment your mouth met his, you both got carried away. 

Cregan grabbed you with ease by your thigh, lifting you up, and you winded yours around his neck, almost forgetting that he had a game to play in twenty minutes.  

‘’Okay, that’s enough,’’ you decided, breaking the kiss. ‘’You’re gonna be late for pre-game talk.’’

Cregan sighed but gently lowered you back down. Your boots hit the floor, but he didn’t let you go without stealing one last kiss. You smiled into it, then stepped back just as Jace came barreling down the hallway, clearly in a rush.

He came to a stop, frowning when seeing you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His gaze shifted to Cregan, suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘’And why are you talking to my sister?’’

Cregan didn’t miss a beat. ‘’She was looking for you, actually,’’ he lied smoothly. ‘’Baela asked her to tell you she wouldn’t make it to the game tonight. She and Rhaena drove home for the weekend for their dad’s birthday.’’

You made a mental note to thank him later for the quick thinking. Baela had mentioned her trip, and Jace had been sulking and pouting ever since, upset that his girlfriend would miss a big game. 

Jace nodded, still catching his breath. ‘’Yeah, I know. She already told me.’’ 

‘’Oh?’’ you played along effortlessly. ‘’She must have forgotten that she already told you. She has a lot on her mind right now, you know.’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°  

Your breathy 'ah's and whimpers were bouncing off the walls as Cregan's strong hands gripped your thighs and held you in place while he lapped at your pussy like a starved man. The intensity of pleasure forced you to grip the headboard. The scruff of his beard was rubbing against your sensitive skin, chafing, but you kind of like it. 

It was your first time having the apartment to yourself for more than two hours, and you were going to make the most out of it. Jace was at a bar in the city with some guys from the team. He won't be back until at least 1am...or even later. 

When you heard about the night out at the bar, you texted your man and let him know so he could come over after Jace leaves. His teammates were disappointed that he was not joining, but Cregan told them to have fun for him. 

He’ll have his own fun with you in the sheets.

The moment he crossed the door, your mouth was on his and you were unbuttoning your shirt, eager to feel his hands on your tits. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mewling at the way he was suckling on your clit. No one ever made you feel this good before. Not that you had a lot of experience to compare with.

His sweet assault on your pussy continued, the sounds you were making making him rock hard. He loved it — pleasing his girl. 

''I'm gonna— I'm gonna come soon,'' you whined, feeling your core tighten and rocking you body forward in the same rhythm, fucking yourself on Cregan's tongue.  

The hockey player let out a low grunt below you, encouraging you to use him how you wished. He let go of one of your thighs to run the back of his hand up your stomach and grab your breast the way you liked, his calloused thumb and finger capturing your peaked nipple, rubbing it as he flicked your clit again. 

Your orgasm hit and you made circular jerks of her hips, pushing down on Cregan’s tongue and chin, drenching both. His name fell from your lips and you continued on like this for a moment, toes curling and legs tensing. Until you had nothing else to give.

He pressed a last kiss to your sensitive clit, then helped you clamber off him. ‘’You remember when I said the cookies you made were really good?’’

You hummed, although confused where he was going with this. 

‘’This is better.’’ 

Your face flamed up at his words, not expecting such a vulgar thing to come out. ‘’Shut up.’’ You smacked his chest, his laugh rumbling under your palm. 

The sheepishness he sported in the kitchen that day had disappeared, revealing a dirty sense of humor you never expected from him.

You thought you would get a breather, a moment to catch your breath between your last orgasm and the next, but Cregan — insatiable — had other plans. He rolled onto his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began kissing your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. His lips trailed all over your chest, down to your breasts, and then to your stomach, each touch igniting your desires all over again. You arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his caresses melting away any resistance.

Under his tall and broad stature, Cregan Stark was a teddy bear. A Costco sized teddy bear. On the ice, he was known for his strength and leadership, but off it, he was all heart. He was kind, caring, and protective. His caresses were gentle, and his kisses tender and loving. It was impossible to not feel his love.

Speaking of feeling his love, you felt his hardness twitching and poking at your thigh through his tight boxers. You reached down to slip your hand inside, jerking him slowly. In response, Cregan squeezed your hip and let out a low groan.

‘’I need you,’’ you gasped, feeling him suck at the skin under your left breast. 

It was one of your rules: no leaving visible marks that could raise suspicions. 

He gave one last swipe of his tongue over your nipple and peeled off his boxers, his delicious cock springing up immediately. Your pussy was weeping at the sight. 

You spread your legs to accommodate him, offering yourself to him. He teased at your entrance, his movements deliberate as he bumped against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that made you whine. His amused chuckle filled the room, clearly tempted to draw out your anticipation even more, but as you shot him a warning glare, silently urging him to stop teasing. 

Cregan shushed you, rubbing your thigh, and just as he was about to breach your walls, you heard the door of the apartment open and Jace’s voice echoing. 

You froze, eyes widening in panic, and Cregan cursed under his breath, realizing that Jace was back much earlier than expected. ‘’Shit. That’s Jace.’’ 

He called your name again and you quickly slipped on a shirt and got out of bed, answering your brother's calls of your name. You couldn't risk him coming into your bedroom and catching his best friend in your bed in his birthday suit…with with a raging hard-on and your juices all over his beard.  

‘’You’re home early,’’ you pointed out, coming down the hallway. 

You studied him as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, trying to guess his state of inebriety. He seemed barely tipsy. 

‘’Drama at the bar. Ben got into a fight with some guy over a girl — which he did not know was someone's girlfriend — and we all got kicked out,’’ Jace explained, rummaging through the bag of chips and taking a handful to pop into his mouth before leaning against the counter. 

You shook your head with a sigh. ‘’Typical Ben. He really needs to stop going after girls that are taken. Has he not learned his lesson?''

Your brother laughed, taking more chips. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the large shirt you were wearing, then back up at you.

You followed his gaze and saw that you had grabbed Cregan’s tee shirt instead of your sleep shirt…

‘’Dad’s,’’ you blurted out quickly.

Jace frowned, not remembering your dad ever wearing that shirt, but let it go. ‘’What were you up to? I thought you would invite the girls over.''

‘’Eh, no. I...I was having fun by myself,'' you stammered, clenching your thighs and hoping your face was not too flushed. 

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn’t true either. You were having fun, just not by yourself. 

His face twisted in disgust. ‘’Ew, that’s gross! I did not need to know about that.''

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°  

Unlike Ben, Cregan wasn’t the type to get into fights — especially on the ice. He thought it was stupid and pointless, a quick way to end up injured or benched for a few games. As the father figure of the team, he was usually the one stepping in to break up the scuffles, keeping cooler heads prevailing. But sometimes, no matter how careful you are, you get caught in the crossfire and take a punch that wasn’t meant for you.

You shot up from your seat immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach as Jason Lannister’s gloveless fist accidently connected to Cregan’s face. It was aimed at Ben — unsurprisingly —, who had played a foul, unnoticed by the referee, and got his brother Tyland in the penalty box.

Chaos erupted on the ice. The referees were shouting and blowing their whistle, trying to break up the fight. Seeing Ben implicated, Cregan had rushed over, taking it on himself to pull him back, but that's when Jason punched him. 

More players skated over, helping the referees. One grabbed Jason, and another went for Ben. He was lean but feisty, a scrappy fighter who never backed down. He shot a taunting grin at his opponent and spat blood on the ice, right at his feet. Jason tried to free himself, but the closest referee put his hand on his chest, shaking his head. Enough.

Cregan turned to Ben and wiped the blood off his nose, glaring at darkly.  

You didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon. You were coming back from the laundry room, arms full with a basket of freshly cleaned clothes, and forgot how to breathe when you saw Cregan sitting on the couch across from Jace. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie, and his pretty face was decorated with a bruise close to his nose. 

Your feet froze, unable to take another step. You wanted to fucking punch Jason Lannister.

‘’Hey, you’re back,’’ Jace noticed, turning his head towards you.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. ‘’Yeah. I was doing laundry,’’ you explained, lifting the basket slightly as if to prove your point.

‘’Can you do mine next time? I’ll pay you ten dollars,’’ Jace offered with a grin.

You scoffed, shaking your head. What did he take you for, a housemaid? ‘’Ten dollars to wash your dirty underwear and smelly socks? Never.’’ 

‘’Fifteen,’’ he countered, still hopeful. ‘’My clothes smell better when you do it. It’s like when Mom used to do it.’’

‘’That’s because I use fabric softener,’’ you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jace frowned, clearly puzzled. ‘’What’s that?’’ 

Before you could explain it to him, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused the game and checked his screen. ‘’Food is here. I’ll go get it,’’ he said to Cregan.

The taller one nodded, waiting for Jace to be out the door to glance at you. Without saying anything, you set the basket of clothes down on the beanbag chair that had seen better days and went straight to Cregan, cupping his face gently. His eyes softened at your touch, seeing your look of concern. He reached up with one hand to lightly hold onto your wrist as you examined the bruise on his face.

Cregan gave you a soft smile. He could see that you were worried about him. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he said, yet you couldn’t help but notice a hint of stiffness in his expression. ‘’I’m fine. I promise.’’ He kissed the inside of your hand. 

‘’I’ll fetch you some ice.’’ 

He tried to protest, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but you were resolute. You hadn't been able to take care of him after the game, so you’ll do it now. 

You put some ice cubes that you used for your iced coffees in a plastic bag and brought it to the living room, gently pressing it to the bruise. ‘’Here.’’ 

Cregan winced at the cold, his face sensitive. ‘’Thanks, love.’’ He reached out and put a hand on your hip, tugging you closer, but retracted it as the door opened and Jace returned with the food. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

During the course of your relationship, you found yourself in a lot of risky situations, but letting Cregan sleep over was playing with fire. 

You didn't mean to. It was an accident. 

The two of you were watching a movie in your bed while Jace was on a date with Baela, and he fell asleep forty minutes in. You should have woken him when your phone showed close to 11pm, but you didn't have the heart to. You locked your door, turned off your laptop and cuddled against him. 

When you woke up to pee at 1am, you saw that your brother was back and was asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, the TV playing some older kids cartoons and his leg off the couch. Jace was a light sleeper, it would be too risky to sneak Cregan out.

Morning came and you woke up alone. A sad pout graced your lips. It was your first time spending the night together and you didn’t even get to have morning cuddles or hear his sleepy voice. 

You grabbed your phone, checking if he left any messages, but there was nothing. Just a text from your mom asking if you were coming home for your dad’s birthday this coming weekend. You rolled over, breathing in the sheets where Cregan slept in last night, and left her on read and got up. 

Your morning coffee was calling your name.

Running a hand through your hair, you walked down the hallway, looking forward to that first sip of coffee, and grinned when you found Cregan in the small kitchen, standing in his tight boxers and a tee shirt and drinking black coffee from a Disney mug. It looked Polly Pocket sized in his hands. 

You wrapped your arms around him from the back, your body flush against his. You pressed your face into his back, and the warmth of your body against his made his shoulders relax. 

He smiled to himself, covering your hands with his free one. ‘’Good morning,’’ he said in a groggy voice.

‘’I thought you had left. What of Jace? If my brother sees you in your underwear in his kitchen he’s gonna flip.’’ 

Cregan set his coffee down and turned, his gaze soft as his eyes met yours. The bruise on his face had significantly faded, barely there. ‘’He’s not here. I heard him leave.’’ 

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, and you let yourself relax against him. The warmth of his body seeped through his tee shirt, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Cregan's hand slowly traced down your back, his fingers rubbing gentle circles at the base of your spine.  

‘’Don’t you have classes?’’ you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He hummed softly. ‘’Not until later. My 10am class got canceled. I thought I’d hit the gym instead...but there’s no rush.’’

‘’I’ve gotta leave in one hour,’’ you sighed, wishing you could linger in this moment longer.

Cregan’s grip tightened slightly, as if to keep you close for as long as he could. ‘’I can drop you off,’’ he offered. ‘’That way we’ll have more time together.’’

You nodded, pressing a kiss over Cregan’s sternum in thanks. ‘’I’ll make us breakfast...in five minutes.’’ 

To ruin the moment, you heard the loud buzz and a voice coming from the intercom. 

‘’Are you up? Please be awake. I tried texting you and calling but you didn’t respond so I’m taking a chance here.’’ Jace called your name again, louder. 

You groaned in annoyance and went to the door to press the intercom button. ‘’What do you want?’’ 

‘’Yes! You’re awake! Eh, I left my laptop on the counter, and I also forgot my keys...’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

When Jace left for college, your parents didn’t see the use of getting a car when everything was close to campus and within walking distance. What they didn’t think through would be the possibility of the bus riding home being full and not being able to make it for your dad’s birthday. 

Jace: Pack your bag. We’re leaving at 4pm. I already told Mom

You: You found us bus tickets? 

Jace: No. I found a ✨chauffeur✨

You: Please tell me it’s not some random person you found on a co-driving forum. I don’t want to spend two hours in some creep’s car 💀

Jace: He’s not

You should have known it would be him. 

Jace called shotgun, forcing you to take the backseat. You didn’t mind. In fact, you preferred it. If you had sat at the front, you were scared your hand would have slipped and revealed your relationship. Or that Jace would have noticed the familiarity between you. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little sister, not someone he knew like the palm of his hand.

Although it was only two hours, the drive felt never-ending. Your back ached from sitting in class all day and your stomach was impatient to be filled with your mother’s cooking. Every now and then, Cregan would sneak glances at you through the rearview mirror, and each time you couldn’t hide your smile. Your brother didn’t see, too busy on his phone or switching the music. 

This weekend was looking to be long and difficult. 

Your mom was more than happy to have another guest over. Cregan was as polite and charming, easily winning her heart when he complimented her infamous lasagna and asked for a second serving. 

''Of course! Help yourself,'' Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She glanced between Cregan and Jace, who both emptied their plates quickly. ''It's like they don't feed you at college.'' 

''I live in a dorm,'' Cregan explained in defense. ''It's hard to cook when the only appliances allowed are a mini fridge and a coffee pot.''

Your mother turned to Jace with raised eyebrows, clearly waiting for his excuse. ''And you? What do you have to say for yourself?'' 

Jace grinned sheepishly, swallowing his last bite. ''Can I take the leftover back to college?'' 

At the head of the table, your father let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.  

When you were seven, you used to sneak out of your bedroom at night to eat a bowl of cereal. It took your parents several months to figure it out. At eighteen, you were sneaking to join your boyfriend in the guest room. 

You waited for everyone to be fast asleep, and avoided the creaking floorboards in the hallway. It was dark inside as you closed and locked the door behind, but you made it to the bed without stubbing your toe on any furniture. 

Cregan stirred when you pulled the covers and slipped in, feeling your cold feet on his calves. ''What are you doing?'' he asked, half-asleep and eyes still closed. He didn't need to see you to know it was you. He simply knew. 

You said nothing and cuddled against him, sighing happily when he reciprocated. 

Morning came faster, the early rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You cursed at yourself, having once again slept longer than planned. You checked both sides of the hallway, and once you deemed it safe, you exited. What you didn’t see was Luke leaving the bathroom, his hair unruly and barely awake. 

‘’I…’’ you stammered, not knowing what to say. 

He was fifteen, you could not trick him like Joffrey. He knew what you were doing in the guest bedroom. 

So you bolted to your own, praying he would keep his tongue.

‘’Luke knows,’’ you blurted out as you descended the stairs for breakfast, the weight of the confession lingering in the air.

Downstairs, your mother had gone all out, setting up a massive brunch spread — eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and even pancakes. Grandfather Lyonel would be coming over...along with your uncle Larys. The thought of him made your stomach twist; you had never been at ease in his presence, but he was your father’s half-brother, and that meant you had to force a smile and be nice. 

Cregan furrowed his brows, concern creeping across his face. ''How?''

You quickly recounted the incident, watching as Cregan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression growing tense. ‘’You think he’s gonna tell Jace?'' he asked, his voice dropping. ''Or worse...your dad? We got along well last night, but when he’ll find out—’’

‘’My dad is not the one we need to worry about,'' you interrupted softly, trying to ease his anxiety. ''Sure, he’s protective of us, and he might look like the kind of guy who could knock someone out with one punch, but he’d never do that to someone I care about. Not unless he had a damn good reason.''

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Joffrey got down from his chair and dashed over to you, his small face lighting up with excitement. ‘’Mommy made pancakes!’’ he announced, his big brown eyes practically glowing. ‘’There’s blueberry ones, your favorites.’’ He grabbed both your hand and Cregan's, tugging insistently, messing up your plan to arrive separately.

At the table, Luke was talking — bragging — to grandfather Lyonel about school while Jace was helping your mom bring all the food to the table. And of course, Uncle Larys was just sitting there, observing everything with his usual quiet, unsettling presence.

At Joffrey’s urging, Cregan took a seat next to him. The little one had taken a strong liking to the hockey player, and you couldn’t help but hope that this budding friendship might work in your favor when it would all blow up. 

‘’Careful, it's hot!'' Rhaenyra called out, entering with a plate full of bacon. ''Jace, can you bring the orange juice? Oh, and a small fork for Joffrey?'' 

You interrupted Luke and made your way to Grandfather Lyonel, wrapping him in a warm hug like you always did. ‘’Where’s Dad?’’ you asked, noticing his absence.

The burly man looked around for his son, not knowing either. 

‘’I'm here, I'm here,'' Harwin’s familiar voice rang out from the sliding door as he entered, carrying a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. On top of his head was a handmade birthday crown, obviously crafted by Joffrey. ‘’Your mother forgot the strawberries. I had to fetch some from the garden.'' 

You grinned, stepping up to greet him. ‘’Happy birthday, Dad,’’ you said, kissing his cheek as you wrapped him in a hug. 

Everyone sat around the table, and began filling their plates with food. 

You mostly took blueberry pancakes, and some fruits from the garden. You had a sweet tooth this morning. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Joffrey talking a mile a minute between bites of pancakes and bacon. Cregan was trying his best to listen to your little brother — what he could make out of his words, anyway — but his attention was completely focused on you.

Two seats down from you, Luke was watching. You could feel his gaze on Cregan, and there was an unsettling tension beneath the surface. He knew something. He could let it slip at any moment and throw the whole breakfast into chaos. But, for now, he stayed silent.

‘’So,’’ Grandfather Lyonel began casually as he sipped his coffee, ‘’how's your first year of college treating you? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?''

The word 'boyfriend' had your bite of pancakes catching in your throat. Grabbing your coffee, you took a long gulp to wash it down, buying yourself a moment.

You shook your head, managing a calm smile. ‘’Not really. I’m keeping my focus on my academics,’’ you replied, briefly raising your eyes at Cregan, who was focussing on eating the content in his plate. The last time he had a home-made breakfast was with you. 

You thought you were being discreet, but your grandfather noticed the short glance, as did your father who was right next to you. 

Joffrey, oblivious to the tension, piped up, ‘’Jace has a girlfriend. Her name is Bella.’’

‘’Baela,’’ Jace corrected with a fond smile, shaking his head at the enthusiastic six-year-old.

Grandfather Lyonel smiled, happy for his grandson. ‘’That’s a lovely name.’’ He then turned to Cregan. ‘’And you, Cregan? Got a girlfriend? A handsome, well-mannered lad like you cannot be single.’’ 

Before he could answer, Joffrey piped up with the bluntness only a child could muster. ‘’I think you should date my sister,’’ he declared.  

Jace’s head shot up, eyes wide. 

Before him, Cregan chuckled uncomfortably, clutching his fork. ‘’Why is that, little one?’’

‘’Because you look at her like papa looks at mommy.’’ He said it so pure and innocently, yet it was true. 

The silence that followed was so loud it didn’t take long for Jace to connect the dots. The truth hung in the air, undeniable and clear. Cregan shifted awkwardly in his seat, and you felt your heart pound in your chest.

Jace glanced between you and the one he called his best friend. His nostrils were flared, shock and outrage painted across his face.  ‘’How long has this been going on?’’ His brown eyes glared daggers at Cregan, waiting for an answer. ‘’How long have you been keeping this from me?’’

‘’Jace,’’ your father’s voice cut through the tension, firm but gentle, an attempt to stop the situation from spiraling any further.

But Jace wasn’t listening, angry at his friend’s betrayal. ‘’How can you betray me like that? I would have expected it from Robb or Theon, not from you. You pride yourself to be loyal and honorable, but where is your loyalty in this? Where is the honor in disregarding my one and only rule?’’  

He was allowed to be upset that you and Cregan spent the last two months seeing each other behind his back. It’s a reaction that was expected. But you hated that he was painting his best friend as the villain. Cregan never used you, it was never his intention. He knew what he was risking when he kissed you back that rainy afternoon in his car. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his feelings — and neither could you. 

‘’How can you make this all about you?’’ you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘’Can’t you see past your own selfish feelings that maybe Cregan does love me for me and not just to piss you off? This is exactly why we didn’t tell you anything.’’ You gestured around the room.

Cregan, who had remained silent until now, took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm. ‘’You know I don’t play around with girls. I would never use your sister the way you think I am. Come on, Jace. You know me.’’ There was a pause, allowing Jace to absorb his words, then he continued. ‘’I’m truly sorry for keeping this from you, but can you blame me? Put yourself in our shoes. You think I wanted to sneak around and lie to everyone about the girl I love? It might look cool in movies, but it’s not in real life. It’s just stress and pain.’’  

The room was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. No one dared speaking around the table. It was only silent glances. 

What a way to ruin your father’s birthday…

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting outside, your heart heavy. The house had grown quiet after the earlier commotion, the celebratory mood from the family gathering long gone. Grandfather Lyonel and uncle Larys had left. The former had apologized for starting the conflict, but you told him it was not his fault. It was bound to happen anyway. 

You apologized to your father — and mother — for ruining his birthday. It was his turn to shake his head and pull you in his arms. 

The air had gotten colder as it neared sundown, but you didn’t want to go inside. You liked the soft stillness of the open air. It was a calming contrast to the fight from this morning.

The drive back to college was going to be tense tomorrow. You already dreaded it. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jace was watching you through the glass of the sliding doors. He stood there for a moment, observing you and Cregan sitting quietly together on the patio furniture. Your head was leaned on his shoulder, curled up at his side, and his left arm wrapped around you. He recognized the Wolves hoodie on your back, Cregan’s number and name on it. 

It wasn't until he saw Cregan kiss the top of your head and the soft smile that instantly bloomed on your face that Jace realized that maybe Cregan was good for you.

—

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[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ not so cocky

F1!driver!rafe cameron x FEM!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: +4.9k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: i couldn't help myself and made him drive for ferrari since thats the team i support :P

it’s a tuesday afternoon, and you’re in your pajamas—baggy sweats and an oversized t-shirt you probably shouldn’t still own. you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket cocooned around you as some random show plays in the background. the ice cream in your lap is half-melted, but you don’t care.

then the knock comes. a sharp sound that instantly makes you groan.

you don’t move at first, hoping whoever it is will just go away, but then your phone buzzes: “we know you’re home. open the door.”

you shuffle to the door and open it, blinking into the daylight like a mole emerging from its hole. standing there, arms crossed and looking unimpressed, are your two best friends.

“it’s literally two p.m.,” abby says, squinting past you into your dimly lit apartment.

“yeah? so?” you reply, scratching your head. “it’s only two p.m.”

“on a tuesday.”

you shrug. “time’s a social construct.”

they both push past you into the apartment, already on a mission. jen opens the blinds, flooding your space with light, while abby heads straight to the kitchen. “when’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t ice cream?”

“last night?” you lie.

“we’re ordering pizza,” jen announces. “and don’t even think about arguing.”

you don’t argue. honestly, it’s kind of nice having them here. soon enough, the pizza arrives, and the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills your apartment. they bring out sodas, too, and one of them starts rifling through your collection of formula one merch—t-shirts, mugs, even the throw pillow you bought on a whim last year.

“okay, since you’re clearly still in your pity era,” abby says, rolling her eyes dramatically

“never say that again,” jen gapes at her.

abby rolled her eyes at her, “anyway, we’re doing a mid-week f1 sleepover. you’re not getting rid of us.”

you don’t even try to fight it. this has become a weekly-ish ritual at this point—your friends invading your space, throwing on a highlight reel from last weekend’s race, and forcing you to laugh at their awful commentary. by the time the sun sets, the couch is littered with pizza crusts and soda cans, and for the first time in days, you feel something close to normal.

the three of you are sprawled across your living room, pizza boxes open on the coffee table, the tv blaring the sound of engines as the formula one race unfolds. abby is clutching a throw pillow like it’s a steering wheel, yelling at the screen.

“i’m telling you, charles is going to take it this time!” abby declares, pointing wildly at the screen as charles leclerc manoeuvres through the track.

“please,” jen scoffs, leaning back with a slice of pizza. “verstappen has this in the bag, like always. he’s unstoppable.”

“unstoppable until he gets cocky and screws up his pit stop,” abby fires back.

you chuckle, keeping your eyes on the screen. “you two have had this exact argument every single week. neither of you is changing your mind.”

“because she’s wrong,” jen says, pointing at abby with a pizza piece.

“and she’s delusional,” abby fires back, throwing a pillow.

“oh my gosh, both of you, can we just watch without fighting?” you groan, though there’s a faint smile tugging at your lips. this bickering is as much a part of your race nights as the pizza.

jen smirks, not missing a beat. “oh, and you’re one to talk? we all know you’re obsessed with rafe cameron.”

you nearly choke on your drink. “i am not.”

“you literally blush every time his name comes up,” abby teases, nudging your shoulder.

“do not,” you mutter, sinking lower into the couch.

jen sits up suddenly, her face lighting up with an idea. “wait, speaking of him—did you guys hear about that competition? the one where you can win a seat next to him for a day? he drives you around in his race car, and it’s for charity or something.”

“stop.” you wave her off, your voice flat. “just stop.”

“no, seriously!” jen presses, pulling her phone out to look it up. “it’s legit. they posted it on the f1 page. all you have to do is enter, and they pick a winner. imagine sitting next to rafe cameron while he drives at, like, two hundred miles an hour!”

“jennifer, no,” you say, glaring at her. “that’s insane. why would anyone want to do that?”

“why wouldn’t you?” abby jumps in, grinning. “you get to sit in a race car, with rafe cameron. i mean, if i could, i’d already be entering.”

“don’t lie, you’d only go if it was charles doing it,” jen shook her head.

“you guys are ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head. “as if we’d actually made a chance.”

“besides” she says innocently. “i’m just saying. you love formula one, and you obviously love rafe. i’ve seen the way you look at the screen when he’s on.”

you groan, tossing a pillow in her direction. “shut up.”

“yeah,” abby chimes in, smirking. “all heart-eyes and ‘oh, rafe is such a good driver.’”

you scoff, though your face is heating up. “i don’t sound like that.”

“you do,” they say in unison, and you hate how much they’re enjoying this.

it’s friday morning when jen and abby show up at your door, both of them practically vibrating with excitement.

“open up!” jen yells, banging on the door.

you groan, dragging yourself out of bed and to the door, still in your pajamas. when you open it, jen is already halfway inside, holding up a bright pink duffel bag. abby’s standing behind her, an equally mischievous grin on her face.

“get dressed,” jen says, brushing past you into your living room. her dark curls are pulled back into a curly bun, and she’s rocking a pastel tracksuit that looks effortless on her. “we’re going out.”

“and not to the grocery store,” abby adds, following closely behind. her straight, glossy black hair is tied in a high ponytail. “but, maybe we should, just in case.”

“what is going on?” you mumble, yawning.

“spa day!” jen announces, setting the duffel down on your couch. “and before you say anything, no, you don’t get a choice.”

“why?” you ask, blinking at them. “i’m good here. i don’t need to go out.”

jen sets her bag down with a dramatic gesture. “girl, no. you’ve been ‘good here’ for three months, and we’re not letting you wallow anymore.”

“we’re going all out,” abby adds, stepping inside. her sleek ponytail swings as she gestures toward the bag. “nails, hair, brows, lashes—everything.”

you blink at them. “why do i need a spa day?”

“because you need to get ready for spa weekend,” jen says, emphasizing the word with a grin.

you stare at her blankly. “what are you talking about?”

abby rolls her eyes and flops onto your couch, crossing her legs. “the belgian grand prix. at spa-francorchamps. your favorite track. we’re going.”

your jaw drops. “you’re kidding.”

“we are not,” jen says, pulling out her phone and waving the email confirmation in your face. “two nights in a cute little airbnb, paddock passes for the race, and the works.”

“we saved for this forever,” abby says. “and let’s be honest, you need this.”

“and you just… decided to surprise me?” you ask, trying to keep calm and collected whilst wrapping your head around the idea of going to a fomula 1 race.

jen smirks. “well, we didn’t think you’d agree if we told you ahead of time. and now, you can’t back out.”

“besides,” abby adds, “you’ve been talking about spa for years. ‘oh, it’s so historic, it’s the best track, the corners are iconic.’ you’re gonna lose your mind when we’re there.”

you can feel your heart racing, the excitement bubbling under your skin despite yourself. you’ve dreamed of going to spa-francorchamps for as long as you can remember.

“so,” jen says, crossing her arms. “are you coming, or are you gonna sit here in your sad little cocoon and regret it forever?”

“obviously i’m coming,” you squeal with delight, a big grin painting your face.

“great,” abby says, hopping up and clapping her hands together. “then let’s get you race-weekend ready.”

the drive to spa-francorchamps is electric. you, jen, and abby are packed into a rental car, your bags crammed into the trunk, the radio blasting a mix of pop music and sing-along songs. every few minutes, one of you squeals about something—whether it’s the scenery, the fact that you’re actually going to spa, or the vip paddock passes tucked safely in jen’s bag.

“can you believe this?” you ask, practically bouncing in your seat. “we’re going to spa. i mean, eau rouge, blanchimont, la source—it’s iconic.”

“we know,” abby says with a grin. “you’ve been talking about it nonstop since we booked this trip.”

“you’re gonna cry when you see it,” jen teases from the driver’s seat. “i swear, you’re worse than those drivers who kiss the track.”

you laugh, but deep down, you know she’s right.

the airbnb is a cozy, modern expensive cottage just outside the circuit. the three of you walk in, and you’re immediately blown away. sleek wood paneling, a spacious living area, and a kitchen stocked with snacks and, most importantly, champagne.

“this is perfect,” abby says, dropping her bag on the floor and kicking off her shoes. “i feel like a celebrity already.”

jen pops open a bottle of champagne while you and abby explore the place, claiming bedrooms and marveling at the view of the surrounding hills. by the time you all settle in the living room, glasses in hand, the excitement is palpable.

“to spa,” jen says, raising her glass.

“to the best trip ever,” abby adds.

“to eau rouge,” you say with a grin.

you all clink glasses and take a sip, the bubbles fizzing on your tongue. for the first time in months, you feel light. happy. like yourself again.

“okay, okay,” jen says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “before we get too tipsy, there’s one more thing we need to do.”

“what now?” you ask, sinking into the couch.

jen exchanges a look with abby, who’s barely containing her grin.

“we have a surprise,” abby says, pulling her laptop out of her bag. she opens it up and types something in while you watch, confused.

“guys,” you say. “what’s going on?”

jen leans over and taps a key, turning the screen toward you. “read this.”

you blink at the email in front of you. the subject line reads: “Congratulations! You’ve won the Scuderia Ferrari F1 Experience!”

“what is this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“it’s that competition we entered,” jen says, smirking. “you know, the one to sit beside rafe cameron while he drives you around in his f1 car? yeah, you won.”

your jaw drops. “you’re joking.”

“nope,” abby says, grinning. “you’re meeting him. this weekend. in spa. we didn’t tell you earlier because we knew you’d freak out.”

“i’m already freaking out!” you yell, scrambling to reread the email. “how—when—why didn’t you text me?”

jen laughs, sipping her champagne. “because this reaction is way better in person.”

“plus, we knew you’d try to back out,” abby says. “and there’s no way we’re letting that happen.”

you stare at the email, your heart pounding. rafe cameron. the golden boy of formula one. the guy whose posters are still taped to your bedroom wall. the one you’ve lowkey crushed on for years. and now, you’re going to meet him.

“oh my gosh,” you whisper, looking up at them. “what am i supposed to say to him? what am i supposed to wear?”

“don’t worry,” jen says, smirking. “we’ve got you covered. now drink your champagne and start practicing your ‘hi, i’m not a complete disaster’ speech.”

abby laughs. “yeah, maybe skip the part where you cried during the monza race last year.”

“shut up!” you say, throwing a pillow at her, but you can’t stop the grin spreading across your face. because for the first time in forever, you’re genuinely, wildly excited.

monday morning feels surreal. the entire weekend at spa-francorchamps had been a dream—a whirlwind of roaring engines, flashing cameras, and the electric buzz of formula one. the race had been the highlight: the screams of the crowd as rafe crossed the line in p3, a hard-fought podium for scuderia ferrari. you’d cheered so loud you thought you might lose your voice, jumping up and down with jen and abby as the tifosi flags waved around you.

now, the reality of what’s about to happen is hitting you like a freight train. you’re sitting at the little dining table in your airbnb, staring at a perfectly brewed cup of coffee you haven’t touched. the sunlight filters through the windows, but it does nothing to calm the swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

“you good?” abby asks, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scrolls through her phone. she’s already dressed for the day, her outfit chic and effortless.

“define ‘good,’” you mumble, tapping your fingers nervously on the table. “because I think I’m having a heart attack.”

jen, who’s been rifling through her makeup bag, snorts. “you’re not having a heart attack. you’re just meeting rafe cameron. no big deal, right?”

“yeah, just the literal guy whose career you’ve followed for years,” abby says, smirking.

“the one you’re constantly defending on twitter,” jen adds with a teasing grin. “you’re basically his unofficial PR rep.”

“you’re both the worst,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your voice. you know they’re right.

abby sets her phone down and walks over to you, resting her hands on your shoulders. “listen, you’ve got this. he’s just a guy. a really, really attractive guy who drives at, like, 200 miles per hour for a living. no pressure.”

“you’re not helping,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

jen laughs, zipping up her makeup bag and tossing it onto the couch. “ignore her. just remember: be cool, don’t fangirl too hard, and for your sake, don’t mention that you cried when he won monza last year.”

“i’m never telling you anything again,” you grumble, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself.

after going to the ferrari hospitality room the three of you waited until—a knock at the door makes you freeze. all three of you exchange a look.

“it’s time,” abby says, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

“go get him, tiger,” jen says, giving you a little shove toward the door.

your heart pounds as you open it, and standing there, in all his post-race glory, is rafe cameron. he’s in a casual scuderia ferrari polo, his signature blond hair slightly tousled, and those piercing blue eyes that seem even more intense in person.

“hi,” you manage to squeak out, which is honestly an achievement considering rafe cameron is standing two feet away from you, looking like he just stepped out of a Ferrari promo shoot.

“hi,” he says again, and the way his voice sounds—low, smooth, a little gravelly—sends your brain spiraling. “i’m rafe… uh, cameron. rafe cameron.”

your heart swells, you were sure your face was heating up. hearing his voice in real life was so much different then in screen. you give him a nod as you replied, “i’m y/n.”

“you ready?”

ready? absolutely not. but you nod anyway, because there’s no way you’re backing out now. “yeah, totally. let’s do this.”

rafe chuckles, his smile growing a little wider, and he gestures toward the bright red Ferrari waiting in the driveway. it’s the sleekest, shiniest car you’ve ever seen, and your heart skips a beat just looking at it.

“after you,” he says, stepping aside to let you pass.

you move toward the car, hyper-aware of every step you take, and slide into the passenger seat. the leather feels buttery-soft beneath you, and the interior smells faintly of something expensive and clean. you fumble with the seatbelt, trying to act casual, but the buckle refuses to click into place.

“uh,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up as you wrestle with it. “this is fine. totally fine.”

“need some help?” rafe asks, already leaning over before you can say no.

your breath hitches as he moves closer, his arm brushing against yours. he smells like a mix of cologne and engine oil, and the proximity is almost too much to handle. his fingers brush yours as he takes the buckle, and you swear you forget how to breathe.

“here,” he says softly, sliding the buckle into place with a satisfying click. “got it.”

“thanks,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, his face just inches from yours, his blue eyes catching the light in a way that’s downright distracting.

“no problem,” he says, his gaze lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary before he pulls back. “safety first, right?”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—other than the way your heart is pounding.

“right. safety first,” you echo, trying to sound normal, which is nearly impossible when rafe cameron is looking at you like that.

he starts the car, and the engine roars to life, the sound sending a thrill through you. “ready?” he asks again, glancing at you with a small, knowing smile.

“ready,” you say, gripping the edge of your seat like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

but deep down, you know you’re not ready. not for the car, not for the speed, and definitely not for rafe cameron.

the roar of the engine vibrates through the car as rafe pulls out onto the private track, the red Ferrari handling like a dream under his control. you’re gripping the seat, trying to act chill, but the sheer power of the car is making your heart race. or maybe it’s rafe. hard to say.

“so,” he says, his eyes flicking toward you briefly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “have you ever been in a car like this before?”

“not even close,” you admit, trying not to sound too breathless.

“figured,” he teases lightly, his smirk deepening. “most people don’t have ‘f1 passenger seat’ on their bucket list. you’re kind of unique that way.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a spark of courage. “unique? is that your way of saying I’m a little weird?”

he laughs, the sound warm and genuine, and it makes you feel oddly triumphant. “no, it’s my way of saying you’ve got good taste. not everyone appreciates what these cars can really do.”

before you can respond, he presses the accelerator, and the car launches forward with a force that presses you back into your seat. a surprised laugh escapes you as the world outside becomes a blur of colors.

“whoa!” you exclaim, gripping the door handle.

“you good?” he asks, glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“i think so,” you manage, your voice tinged with nervous laughter. “just wasn’t expecting that.”

“you’ve gotta trust me,” he says, his tone softening a little. “i’ve done this a couple of times before, you know.”

“oh, really? i had no idea,” you say dryly, earning another laugh from him.

he takes the first corner with surgical precision, the car hugging the curve effortlessly. you can’t help but admire how smooth and controlled his movements are, even at this speed.

“you’re good at this,” you say, half-teasing, half-serious.

“thanks,” he says, shooting you a quick grin. “i try.”

he slows down just enough to let you catch your breath before speeding up again. “so,” he starts, his voice casual, “do you have a favorite driver? besides me, of course.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help smiling. “oh, obviously you’re the best,” you say, playing along. “but charles and lewis are up there too.”

“charles, huh?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “i should’ve known you’d be a ferrari loyalist.”

“what can i say?” you reply with a shrug. “i love the drama.”

“well, we’ve got plenty of that,” he says with a chuckle. “but if i ever see you in a lewis hat, it’s over.”

you laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little. “noted. no lewis merch around you.”

he takes another corner, and you feel the g-force push you sideways. he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, clearly amused by your reaction.

“you’re handling this pretty well,” he says. “most people scream.”

“i might start,” you say, gripping the seatbelt as he picks up speed again.

he grins, his eyes sparkling. “don’t worry. i’ll slow down if you ask.”

“don’t you dare,” you shoot back, surprising yourself with the boldness in your tone.

his laugh echoes through the car, and for a moment, you forget about the speed, the track, and everything else. it’s just you and rafe, the easy banter between you making the world outside seem far away.

after the ride, your nerves are still humming, but it’s not just from the speed—it’s from him. rafe parks the car back in the paddock with the smooth precision of someone who’s done this a thousand times, then turns to you with that trademark grin that’s equal parts cocky and boyish charm.

“so,” he says, resting an arm on the steering wheel as he looks over at you. “what’d you think? am i as good as the commentators say?”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “you’re fishing for compliments already?”

“just curious,” he says, leaning slightly closer. “it’s not every day i drive someone who actually knows the sport. figured you’d have some… constructive criticism.”

you meet his gaze, trying to hold your ground despite the way his blue eyes seem to see right through you. “okay, fine. you’re good. but don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” he quips, winking as he steps out of the car and rounds to your side, opening your door before you can do it yourself.

“chivalry?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you step out.

“what can i say? i’m full of surprises,” he replies, and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you.

stepping out of the car, you’re greeted by the crew from ferrari, their cameras pointed in your direction. you can see the bright red of the team logo on their shirts, and the reality of the situation hits you again—this isn’t just a dream. this is real. and rafe cameron is standing right next to you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“so,” rafe says, leaning casually against the car, his arms crossed as he looks at you. “what’d you think? was i as good as you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “you were fine. nothing i couldn’t handle.”

he laughs, the sound low and warm. “fine? come on, i saw you gripping that seat like your life depended on it.”

“it was a fast car!” you defend, crossing your arms. “anyone would’ve been nervous.”

“i think my soul left my body at least twice.”

he laughs, leaning casually against the car. “you didn’t scream, though. i’ll give you that.”

“oh, i wanted to,” you say, crossing your arms. “but i figured i’d try to keep a shred of dignity.”

“impressive,” he says, his grin widening. “most people lose it after the first corner.”

“what can i say?” you reply, your confidence bolstered by his teasing. “i’m just unique like that.”

his eyebrows lift with a teasing smirk. “oh, really? i should take those words back considering you couldn’t figure out their seatbelt.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands as the crew chuckles behind their cameras. “you’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“not a chance,” he says, his voice full of playful arrogance. “it’s going in the highlight reel for sure.”

“the highlight reel?” you ask, peeking at him through your fingers.

he nods, clearly loving the way he’s flustering you. “yeah, this is all for ferrari’s youtube channel. fans are going to love it. you’re a natural in front of the camera, by the way.”

the ferrari crew exchanges amused looks, clearly loving every second of the interaction. one of them steps forward, holding a mic. “so, what’s the verdict? would you ride with rafe again?”

you glance at rafe, who’s watching you with a smug smile, and decide to play along. “only if he promises not to tease me about the seatbelt ever again.”

“deal,” rafe says immediately, holding out his hand like it’s a serious negotiation.

you shake it, his grip warm and firm, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“all right, that’s a wrap for now,” one of the crew members says, lowering the camera. “great job, both of you.”

“so,” he says, his eyes locked on yours, “any chance you’re sticking around? i owe you a proper debrief. you know, off-camera.”

you laugh nervously, your heart pounding again. “i don’t think i’m qualified for that.”

“sure you are,” he says, that cocky grin firmly in place. “besides, it’s not every day i meet someone who keeps me on my toes.”

you bite your lip, trying to play it cool even as your pulse races. “i’ll think about it.”

“good,” he says, straightening up. “but don’t think too hard. you might miss out.”

as he walks away, the faint smell of cologne and burnt rubber lingering in the air, you realize you’re smiling like an idiot. living in the moment, you remind yourself, and for once, it feels pretty damn good.

you’re pacing the airbnb living room, recounting every detail of your post-drive conversation with rafe to jen and abby. well, trying to, anyway. your thoughts are still jumbled, the memory of his smile and the way he said, “you might miss out” playing on a loop in your head like a song you can’t stop humming.

“wait, wait, wait,” jen interrupts, holding up a hand as she sits cross-legged on the couch, her expression equal parts amused and incredulous. “you’re telling me rafe cameron invited you to hang out after the drive, and you didn’t say yes?”

you stop pacing, throwing your hands up. “i was stressed! it caught me off guard! do you know how many things were going through my head? i literally blanked.”

“girl.” jen’s voice is dripping with disbelief. “how do you blank on that? it’s rafe cameron.” she says his name like it’s your earth’s purpose, as if she can’t believe you’re even capable of such an oversight.

“i know, okay?” you groan, collapsing onto the armchair across from her. “but the cameras were there, and everyone was looking at me, and he was being all… rafe about it!”

abby, who’s been lounging on the other end of the couch scrolling through her phone, looks up with a sympathetic smile. “it’s fine. you’re overthinking it. and, like, you might want to stop, because…” she trails off, her smile growing into something mischievous.

“because what?” you ask, sitting up straight.

“look at your phone,” abby says, her tone light, teasing.

you hesitate, your heart already speeding up. “why?”

“just do it!” jen says, practically bouncing now, her curiosity piqued.

with a sinking feeling in your stomach—and a spark of hope you’re trying to ignore—you grab your phone from the coffee table. as soon as you unlock it, the notification stares back at you, big and bold and impossible to miss.

rafe cameron is following you.

your jaw drops, and for a moment, you can’t even form words.

“well?” jen demands, leaning forward. “what does it say?”

you hold up the screen, and both of them erupt into chaos. jen is practically shrieking, while abby claps her hands together like this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened.

“oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” jen yells, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “he followed you? this is huge. this is, like, life-changing!”

“it’s just a follow, right?” you mumble, though your face is burning, and you can’t stop the big smile creeping onto your lips. you were scared you were reaching too far.

“just a follow?” abby repeats, her eyebrows shooting up. “girl, this is rafe cameron. this isn’t just a follow; this is game on.”

“okay, but what do i do now?” you ask, your voice edging on panic. “do i follow him back? do i message him? do i do nothing?”

“you follow him back, duh,” jen says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “but don’t message him. play it cool.”

abby shakes her head. “no, you definitely message him. something casual, like, ‘thanks for the drive, it was fun.’ or maybe something flirty, like—”

“no flirty messages,” you interrupt, groaning. “i can’t. i’ll mess it up.”

“you can’t mess it up,” abby says confidently. “trust me, he’s already interested. the ball’s in your court.”

you stare at the notification again, your mind spinning. it’s surreal, like something out of a dream. jen and abby are still debating the best approach, but all you can think about is rafe’s smile, his voice, and the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

finally, you take a deep breath and follow him back.

“there,” you say, holding up the phone like you’ve just defused a bomb. “step one: complete.”

“and now we wait,” jen says, grinning. “but don’t worry. he’s definitely going to make the first move.”

abby smirks, raising an eyebrow. “oh, he’s already made the move.”

[azsazz]

Out of Order

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...

Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).

Word Count: 3003

Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏

Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world

_________________________________________

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed. 

It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.

And now this.

Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.

Late, late, late.

You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head. 

The men’s locker room.

There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too. 

Fuck, you really don’t want to do this. 

But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.

You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.

Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.

Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.

You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.

You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.

The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.

You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.

Azriel.

Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.

Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.

“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.

“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.

Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.

You kind of like this look on him.

“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.

This is utterly humiliating.

Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.

Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.

The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.

“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.

You swallow roughly, “Good call.”

“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.

“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.

You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.

“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”

Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.

You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—

“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”

Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.

“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”

Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—

“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”

You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.

 Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.

You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.

“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.

Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.

You really need to get the fuck out of here.

There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.

You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.

A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.

Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.

“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.

“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.

Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.

A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.

Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.

“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.

His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.

“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.

He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”

You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”

“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.

“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.

You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.

He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.

Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.

“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.

“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”

Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.

You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.  

“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”

“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”

Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”

As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.

Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.

You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.

He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.

“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”

_________________________________________

Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks

[keeryhours]

baby, it’s cold outside - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Best friend! female reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

A planned movie night with your best friend turns into more when you get trapped in a snow storm.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, accidental creampie

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This is my first fic for the Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Prompt: “snowed in”

—

The Hawkins forecast was calling for snow. A lot of it, in fact. You weren’t worried about it. In fact, you had planned a fun night in with your best friend in the world.

You had everything all ready. The house to yourselves while your parents were visiting family for the weekend, plenty of hot chocolate, and the fireplace roaring comfortingly. It was perfect.

You were dressed in your coziest PJs - you and Steve had picked out matching pairs. What can you say, you loved making an event out of things.

The snow was falling heavily outside and you were just pulling the cookies you had baked out of the oven when the front door opened and you heard footsteps heading into the kitchen.

“Hey hey,” Steve greeted, still dressed in his uniform from Family Video and holding a bag in his hand. “Smells good.”

“Hey Stevie,” you greeted with a smile. You sat the hot tray on top of the stove and turned the oven off. “Whatcha got for us?”

Steve pulled three VHS tapes from the plastic bag. “I got A Christmas Story, Gremlins, and Die Hard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Die Hard?”

“What? It’s a Christmas movie!”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Wanna go get changed?”

“God yes, I’m so ready to get out of these clothes.” Steve sat the movies down on the counter and headed down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You examined the movie choices as you waited. When Steve returned, he was dressed in pajamas that mirrored yours, cozy red flannel bottoms and a black sweater-like top with a reindeer on it.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he pointed out as he glanced out the window. “I had to drive like 20 under the speed limit to get here.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be too crazy,” you said, grabbing A Christmas Story. “It should calm down by the time we’re done with our movie night. I wouldn’t stress about it. Wanna watch this one first?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed it from your hand along with the other two movies as you plated the cookies and poured two mugs of hot chocolate. When you entered the living room, Steve was putting the movie in the VCR, then falling back on the couch.

You sat the treats on the table and gathered the bundle of cozy blankets before sitting next to your best friend. The blankets spread over both of your laps, you dug into the treats as the familiar movie played on the TV screen.

Despite the house’s heating, the warm drinks, and the blankets shared between you, it was cold. You found yourself shivering, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked quietly, noticing your shaking against his arm.

“Freezing,” you admitted. Your hands were ice cold, as if the snow from outside was invading the warm safety of the house.

“C’mere.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against his side. You froze for a moment - this was more intimate than you and Steve usually got. Sure he was your best friend, and he was also gorgeous, but there was nothing more between you. But god, he was so warm and cozy, like a heater. He warmed your body immediately.

As the movies played, you found yourself cuddling closer and relaxing into Steve’s side. At some point he began rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. The electricity his touch was sending through your skin was unfamiliar - you’d touched Steve plenty of times, but it never felt like this. You’d never thought about what it might feel like to hold his hand, or what his lips might feel like on yours. But now you were. Now it’s all you could think about, to the point that you weren’t even paying attention to the movies anymore.

When your last movie of the night, Gremlins, ended, Steve removed his arm from around you, much to your dismay. He stretched, letting out a wide yawn.

“I guess I’d better get going home before it gets too bad out there,” he said, although neither of you really wanted him to.

“Yeah, I guess so. I had fun,” you smiled, even though you wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay, to hold you longer.

What was up with you?

Steve gathered his stuff, his clothes from work in the bag he had brought with him. You followed him to the front door.

He pulled it open, and you were both greeted with a rush of freezing cold air and snow. The forecast had not been lying - the storm was intense. It covered the yard, the unplowed road, even Steve’s car was buried in the glittering white snow.

You and Steve both gaped at the spectacle. Steve shut the door and turned to you.

“Uh…I’m not sure I can leave.”

“You can stay,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just spend the night. It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed out in relief. “Damn. I really wasn’t expecting it to actually get that bad.”

You followed Steve back into the living room, where he sat his bag down again. “You can pull out the couch,” you told him. “It’s pretty comfy. I have an extra new toothbrush you can use.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled at you gently. Tenderly.

As the two of you got ready for bed, your mind was racing. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about how it felt to lay against Steve? How good he had smelled, like honey and his fancy cologne. How warm his body was against yours. How it had felt like you fit right in beneath his arm. How kissable his plush lips looked, how expressive his brown eyes were when he looked at you.

You were panicking.

Steve didn’t feel that way about you, you were sure of it. And you didn’t want to change your friendship by catching feelings. This was dangerous territory. You could only hope the thoughts would fade by morning.

You walked back to the living room to find Steve attempting to figure out the sofa.

“Here, let me help,” you said, moving over and grabbing the other side. Together you pulled the bed out. It was pretty comfy, as far as pull out couches go. You had spent many a night camped out on it during sleepovers with Carol Perkins growing up, before she grew up and decided to turn into a bitch. Now it was mostly unused.

You gathered some blankets and sheets from the hall closet, taking some pillows from your own bed for him. You helped Steve make the bed up, and when you were done, it looked perfectly comfortable. The fireplace still burned in the room, filling it with a comfortable warmth, although you still felt the chill.

“Thanks for helping me get all this set up,” Steve said, gesturing to his home for the night. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

You felt yourself blush, and looked down to hide it from him. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Steve smiled again - how did you never notice how charming his smile was? “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, and then turned to walk into your own bedroom for the night.

A firm hand on your arm stopped you, pulling you to spin around and crash into something hard. Before you could process it, soft lips were pressing onto yours.

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back just as passionately as he kissed you. Your lips worked together in perfect harmony, they were just as soft as they looked. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you let him in freely, your own pressing against his as he explored your mouth with an urgency, like he’d been waiting to do this for years.

You melted into his kiss, Steve’s hands caressing over your hips and sides. They trailed up beneath your pajama top, feeling the smooth skin beneath. He led you backwards towards the pull out bed, and you fell back onto it with Steve crawling on top of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss.

“More than okay,” you answered, equally breathless and just wanting him to kiss you over and over again for the rest of the night. He smiled before he leaned in, trailing kisses along your jaw. You giggled as he moved to your neck, placing gentle kisses all over the skin.

“Good,” he said between kisses, “because I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea.”

His words made your breath hitch in your throat - or maybe it’s the way he started sucking on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Steve…”

“Yeah?” He started pushing the sweater top up your body. He moved down to kiss over the exposed skin of your stomach, which made you gasp, his lips sending chills across your skin.

“I love you.”

Steve looked up at you from where he had been exploring your body, smiling that same familiar smile. “I love you, too.”

He pushed your top up the rest of the way, and you leaned up to help him remove it. You shivered as your body was exposed to the air, no bra so your nipples peaked in the chill. Steve drank in your bare chest before him, before moving back up to your eyes.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted, but you didn’t want this to stop, either.

“I can warm you up…” he offered, “…from the inside.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed, your head thrown back. “Oh my god. You’re so lame.”

He was smiling as he stood up next to the bed, pulling his own pajama top over his head. His bare chest was exposed to you and you sat up and reached forward, rubbing your hands over the taut skin of his stomach, up and over the thick hair on his firm chest. He hummed as you did, his eyes falling closed.

He was gorgeous. You always knew he was, but seeing him like this for the first time, it was something else entirely. He was ethereal.

Your eyes drifted down to the large bulge pushing against the front of his flannel pants, straining against the material. You rubbed over it, feeling how hard he was already, and causing Steve to hiss as it twitched beneath your hand.

“Can I…?” You asked hesitantly, fingers grasping the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, a breathless laugh coming from his lips. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Pleased with his confirmation, you pulled his pants and boxers down in one go, his length surprising you as it sprung up, already incredibly hard. You gasped, which made Steve chuckle.

“I did not expect you to be hiding all that,” you commented, eyes wide as you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah? You like it?”

You looked up at his eyes. “You really don’t need your ego stroked.”

“I’ve got something you can stroke-“

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve looked like he was about to say something else but you shut him up yourself by wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, licking a long stripe along the underside to the tip. Steve let out a strangled groan, hand grasping at the back of your hair.

“Shit, babe-“

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue running over his slit and circling around his tip. You began to take more of him, relaxing your throat as you took his girth. He was bigger than any guy you’d been with before, and you were a little intimidated, but you were going to try your best. You gagged as you neared the entirety of him, and Steve’s hand tightened in your hair, although he didn’t force you.

“Feels so good baby, please don’t stop,” he rasped, encouraging you to take more. Your eyes were watering, your jaw aching as you took more and more of him.

He hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed against the soft curls at his base. His eyes widened as he looked down at you, his hand shaking. “Shit, no one’s ever taken it all before,” he remarked, as if he were in awe. “You’re incredible.”

You began to bob your head along his length, taking him as deep as possible every time. Steve groaned loudly above you, his eyes never leaving the way your lips fit around his cock.

When you felt his thighs start to tremble you lifted off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. He muttered a low “Fuuuuck.”

Steve gently pushed you back to lay on the bed, then crawled back over you again, placing a kiss above the waistband of your pajama pants before he was pulling them and your panties down your legs.

When you were bare before him, he spread your legs, taking in the sight of you. Before you knew what he was thinking, he ducked down between your legs, licking along your glistening folds. You gasped, hands tangling in his long locks.

“Oh, Steve-“ you gasped out, and you could feel him smile against your core.

“Taste so good,” he said, licking over your sensitive clit. You resisted the urge to close your legs around his head, the pleasure overwhelming as he focused on pleasing you with his mouth. He slipped a long finger inside of you, causing you to pull on his hair, which made him groan against you.

He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before adding another, stretching you in preparation to take his cock - although his fingers were nothing in comparison.

As Steve continued to work his tongue and lips expertly against your core, you felt your high building rapidly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, to bring you straight to your peak.

“Steve…’m gonna cum…” you whined, body writhing beneath his mouth, thighs trembling around his head. Every thrust of his fingers was so deep, the curl of them hitting that perfect spot inside.

“Cum on my tongue, angel,” he murmured between sucking on your clit, running his tongue around it. “Wanna taste it, wanna make you feel so good.” He added a third finger, pumping into you slow yet deep.

“You are,” you said breathlessly, “God, Stevie, feels so good.”

Your high hit you intensely, your back arching up off the bed and grinding against his mouth for more. You could feel his smirk against you as he lapped up every bit of your slick, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he pulled away, trailing kisses up your body until he reached your lips. He kissed you far too sweetly for what he had just done to you, but you found yourself melting into it once again as you tangled your hands in the soft hair at the base of his neck. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you deeply.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked as he pulled away to look down at you, something like love and adoration in his eyes.

“Uh…shit, no,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I didn’t really expect anything like this to happen.”

You giggled. “Me, either.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked you seriously. “We can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

You shook your head immediately. “No…I want to keep going.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you assured him, pulling him closer once again. “Now fuck me, please?”

He groaned at your words. “Of course, baby.” He kissed along your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He reached between your bodies, rubbing the head of his cock through your soaked folds, gathering it on his length. He lined himself up at your entrance, and looked you in the eyes as he pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open at the intrusion - way bigger than his fingers - it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure as he filled you. He groaned loudly as he filled you completely, your hands trembling on his strong shoulders.

“You’re my favorite person,” he said, looking you in the eyes like he’d never meant anything more in his life.

“And you’re mine,” you promised him back, which made him smile and place a gentle kiss on your lips.

He slowly pulled out before pushing back into you, the hottest moan you’d ever heard spilling from his lips. “God, you feel amazing. So tight and perfect. Better than I imagined.”

Even through the intense pleasure of Steve fucking you, his words broke through the haze in your brain. “You’ve imagined?”

“Well yeah, of course,” he laughed. He buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking the spot that drove you crazy earlier. “So many times.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling the blush on your skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Steve said, as he leaned up to look down at you again. “You blush with your whole body, you know that?”

That only made your skin heat further.

Steve sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight heat faster as he chased his own pleasure. “Do you like it like this? Or should I go slower?”

“That’s perfect,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping onto his back for support. “Oh fuck, Stevie, feels so so good.”

He dropped his face back into the crook of your neck, moaning unashamedly as the sounds of your skin meeting filled the quiet living room. The only other sound was the crackling of the fireplace, and you could see the snow still falling hard outside the sliding back door. But just as he promised, Steve was keeping you nice and warm.

In a moment of unexpected boldness, you had an idea.

Grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders, you pushed him over so you were on top. His eyes went wide. “Woah.”

You giggled as you started grinding on him, the angle rubbing against your clit as you did, building your second orgasm of the night. “God, Stevie, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he gasped out, hands gripping tightly to your hips as you began to bounce on him. “Oh fuck honey, you feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You threw your head back as you rode him with everything you had, his eyes glued on your bouncing tits as he felt his own release approaching. “So fucking sexy,” he muttered to himself, hands sliding up your sides to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands before moving back to hold your hips with a bruising grip.

“Baby, I’m getting close,” he warned, his fingers digging tightly into your skin.

“Me too,” you moaned, and you reached down to rub circles on your clit, watching the way his eyes widened again as he watched you pleasure yourself.

“God- cum on my cock, baby, wanna feel your pussy clench around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came even harder than before, crying out and calling his name over and over. “Steve, Steve, Steve…!”

“Oh, shit-“ The muscles in his neck went taut as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, groaning and shooting his load deep inside you as he bucked his hips up wildly beneath you, pulling you down against him.

Once you had both come down to earth, the reality of what had just happened hit you both. “Oh, fuck, angel, I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay, Stevie,” you assured him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Thank god.”

You laughed as you lifted off of him and laid down on the mattress next to him. Steve wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to cuddle against his chest. “That was incredible,” you finally said.

“Hell yeah it was,” Steve agreed wholeheartedly. “Why didn’t we do this forever ago?”

“Because we’re idiots?” you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Steve said, his hand caressing your cheek before he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Sleep in my bed with me?” you asked sheepishly, feeling nervous of his rejection despite what you’d just done together. “To keep me warm, of course.”

“Of course, baby. Where else would I be?”

[solxamber]

Hello! I humbly request Skully J. Graves for the spooky season, please and thank you! (Ps, I LOVE YOUR VILLIANESS SERIES SO MUCH. if you put him in the series, I would love it. Thank you.

Frights and Fancies - Skully J. Graves x reader

I've finally finished the first part of the Halloween event story and here we go! Skully J. Graves for the spooky season!

(this was written before part 2 of the event was out so it might be ooc)

It was almost Halloween, and the Ramshackle Dorm looked like it had exploded in pumpkins, cobwebs, and fake skeletons. Well, not fake enough for Skully, who was currently trying to rearrange a skeleton to perfectly mimic Jack Skellington’s iconic pose.

“This is it! This is exactly how Jack looked when he stood atop Spiral Hill!” Skully beamed, leaning back with a gleeful twirl. “I could cry!”

“Please don’t,” Grim muttered, slumped on the couch like a cat who’d had enough of life. “I’ve seen way too much Halloween today. I’m exhausted.”

You stifled a laugh as Skully pranced across the room, his long coat flowing behind him dramatically. He stopped by a cobweb you’d just hung, delicately adjusting it with reverence. “Ah, this is a masterpiece! The precision, the artistry—oh, Jack would be proud!”

“I bet Jack has a restraining order,” Grim mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Skully didn’t seem to notice the sass. “You don’t understand, Grim! Jack Skellington is the Pumpkin King! He is the very soul of Halloween! Imagine... if I could bring him here, right to this very dorm... oh, we would throw the greatest Halloween party the world has ever seen!”

“You’re throwing it right now, and I hate it,” Grim muttered, pulling a pillow over his head.

Skully, undeterred, rushed over to the pile of pumpkins by the door, holding up the largest one like a trophy. “This one’s going to be the pièce de résistance! I’m going to carve Jack’s face into it—oh, the precision, the skill! It’ll be a tribute!”

You were barely able to stop yourself from laughing as Skully started sketching an intricate face into the pumpkin. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement, even if it was a little... obsessive.

“Hey, uh, shouldn’t we maybe, I don’t know, check the snacks or something?” you suggested, trying to save Grim from further mental collapse. “We’ve got a whole room full of sweets to prepare.”

“Oh! Of course!” Skully jumped to his feet, pumpkin forgotten. “We must create a feast worthy of Halloween Town itself! Grim, you’ll love this—there will be so many sweets, you won’t be able to handle it!”

“Sounds like my personal hell,” Grim groaned, finally sitting up. “Do we have to? I was kinda hoping to nap.”

Skully was already halfway to the kitchen, humming some eerie tune under his breath. You shot Grim an apologetic look, but he was too busy glaring at the ceiling like he was making a pact with some unseen force to end Halloween forever.

The kitchen was soon filled with the smells of spiced pumpkin and sugary treats. Skully was in his element, flitting around like a Halloween-obsessed ghost, talking nonstop about Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, and all the Halloween traditions from his foggy village.

“And no one here at school even knows about Jack!” Skully was saying for probably the twentieth time. “Can you believe that? It’s like they’ve never even heard of Halloween!”

“Maybe they’re lucky,” Grim grumbled, stuffing his face with a pumpkin tart.

Skully either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. He had already moved on to decorating cookies, carefully icing tiny skeleton faces onto each one. “Jack’s elegance, his charisma! He’s the epitome of what Halloween should be.”

“Jack this, Jack that...” Grim sighed dramatically. “If I hear that name one more time—”

“I could name the pumpkin Jack,” Skully suggested, completely serious.

“No!” Grim snapped. “Let the pumpkin live its own life! Let it be free!”

You snorted, almost dropping the tray of cupcakes you were setting out. Skully blinked, confused for just a moment, before smiling his usual charming smile. “Ah, Grim, you always know how to liven things up.”

“I’m this close to being a ghost myself,” Grim muttered.

By the time the evening rolled around, Ramshackle Dorm had been transformed into a veritable Halloween haven. Cobwebs draped across the walls, pumpkins lined every surface, and the faint glow of eerie lights filled the air. Skully stood in the center of it all, arms wide open as he surveyed his masterpiece.

“This... this is the Halloween of my dreams,” Skully said softly, his voice full of awe. “I couldn’t have done it without you two.”

Grim gave a halfhearted wave from his spot on the couch, already half-asleep again, but Skully’s gratitude was genuine. You smiled, watching as he twirled around one more time, completely in his element.

“Well,” you said, “if Jack Skellington could see this, I’m sure he’d be impressed.”

Skully’s face lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, adjusting a crooked pumpkin. “You’ve done Halloween proud.”

Skully gave a deep bow, flourishing his coat as if he were addressing royalty. “Then, in Jack’s name, I thank you both!”

From the couch, Grim groaned. “I’m gonna need a vacation after this…”

As Skully danced around the room, humming Halloween tunes and praising Jack Skellington, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, it had been a lot of work, but seeing Skully so happy—and hearing Grim’s constant complaints—made it all worth it.

This was going to be a Halloween to remember.

Masterlist

Also I'd love to add him the the villainess series, but I'll wait till atleast part 2 of the Halloween event to completely understand him before I do!

[rosemariiaa]

~A Family Christmas Eve~

˖˙ ᰋ ── pairing: Paige x Azzi

˖˙ ᰋ ── rosie’s note: okkk, i loved the prompts in my inbox but i had two that were my favs so i out those together, i live for pazzi as moms omgg! but sadly this is the last oneshot until after a few chapter of HS, which should be coming out soon hah.. anyway happy reading lovelies 💌

˖˙ ᰋ ── theme: fluff

enjoy!!!

The living room is alive with the warm glow of Christmas lights reflecting off the shiny ornaments scattered on the coffee table. The smell of pine mingles with hints of hot chocolate from the kitchen, and the faint sounds of Christmas music play in the background. Azzi is kneeling in front of the couch, wrestling a tiny red pajama set onto a squirming two-year-old who has ideas of her own.

“Evie,” Azzi says patiently, holding up the pajama top. “Arms up, baby. Come on.”

Evie, soft curls framing her round face and lips set in a pout, crosses her arms instead. “Cookies,” she declares firmly, her voice carrying the kind of conviction only a toddler can manage.

Azzi sighs, sitting back on her heels and glancing toward the bedroom door. “Paige!” she calls out, clearly trying not to laugh.

“What?” Paige yells back from the living room.

“Your daughter’s holding me hostage,” Azzi shouts, her voice light but full of mock frustration.

Evie gasps dramatically. “Not hotage!” she insists, her little face scrunching up in indignation.

Paige appears in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a matching red pajama set. Her grin is immediate as she takes in the sight of Azzi kneeling on the floor and Evie sitting on the bed, stubbornly bare-armed. “What’s the problem?” Paige asks, crossing her arms.

“She won’t let me get her dressed because she wants to bake cookies right now,” Azzi explains, giving Paige a helpless look.

Evie points a tiny finger at Azzi. “Cookies now, Mama!”

Paige bites back a laugh and crouches to Evie’s level, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, Evie,” she says, her voice conspiratorial. “How about this—if you let Mama get you dressed, I’ll let you pick the first ornament for the tree. Deal?”

Evie narrows her eyes, clearly weighing her options before finally relenting with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” she says, lifting her arms.

Azzi mutters a quiet “thank you” under her breath as she slips the pajama top over Evie’s head.

Just as they’re finishing, the sound of loud banging echoes from the front door. Paige groans, standing up quickly. “Oh my God. Who’s about to break our house down?”

Azzi stands, scooping Evie into her arms, the little girl’s curls bouncing as she giggles. “I have a guess,” Azzi says, smirking.

Paige opens the door to find the entire team—Caroline, KK, Ice, Morgan, Yanna, Sarah, Nika, and Amari—crowded on the porch in matching Christmas sweaters and grinning like maniacs.

“Twin!” Nika shouts, barging in first to give Paige a huge hug that nearly knocks her over.

“You can’t just—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, the rest of the team is pouring into the house, hugging both her and Azzi, and exclaiming over how festive everything looks.

“Where’s the star of the show?” Ice asks, looking around dramatically.

As if on cue, Evie wiggles out of Azzi’s arms and bolts toward Ice. “Auntie Icey!” she yells, throwing herself at Ice, who catches her with practiced ease.

“There she is!” Ice says, spinning Evie around.

The room quickly turns into a loud, chaotic swirl of hugs and laughter. Caroline helps Evie unwrap a candy cane, KK heads straight for the snacks Paige left out on the counter, and Amari spots the tree and claps her hands. “Alright, where do we start?”

“Nika, you’re slacking,” Azzi teases as Nika sits on the couch, already holding a mug of hot chocolate. “I thought you were her favorite.”

“I am her favorite,” Nika retorts, holding out her arms. “Right, Evie? Come to Auntie Nika.”

Evie scrambles out of Ice’s arms and runs to Nika, who picks her up and holds her close. “Told you,” Nika says smugly, sticking her tongue out at Azzi.

“Rah!” Evie says suddenly, spotting Sarah next.

Sarah grins, holding out her hand for a high five. “What’s up, Evie girl?”

“Moogan,” Evie says, pointing at the brunette, her small brow furrowed.

Morgan crouches down with a patient smile. “Mooorgan,” she says slowly, exaggerating the sounds. “Can you say it?”

“Moooo-gin,” Evie tries, frowning when it doesn’t come out right.

“It’s okay, baby,” Azzi teases, stepping forward and resting a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Morgan’s just the least favorite, anyway.”

“Wow, Fudd,” Morgan deadpans, narrowing her eyes as the group bursts into laughter.

Paige bites back a grin, watching Morgan attempt to recover her pride as Evie plants a soft kiss on her cheek to make up for it. “See? She loves you,” Paige says through her laughter. “You’re just not Nika.”

“None of us are,” Ice chimes in, throwing a fake glare at Nika, who’s still smugly cuddling Evie like a prized trophy.

“Alright, alright,” Azzi interrupts with a laugh, clapping her hands. “We still have a tree to decorate, stockings to hang, and yes,” she shoots a look at Evie, “cookies to bake.”

“Cookies!” Evie squeals excitedly, squirming until Nika sets her down. She dashes toward the kitchen, only to be intercepted by Caroline.

“Hold up, Evie. Ornaments first,” Caroline says, scooping her up and spinning her around.

Paige watches it all unfold with a fond smile, her arms crossed as she leans against the wall. She and Azzi have hosted team gatherings before, but this—everyone together, laughing, filling their home with chaos and love—this feels different. It feels special.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Azzi murmurs, stepping up beside her and bumping Paige’s shoulder lightly.

Paige turns her head, grinning. “Just thinking about how lucky we are. Look at this.” She gestures at the scene in front of them—KK and Amari tangled in lights, Sarah sorting ornaments while Ice takes an entire strand of garland for herself like a scarf, and Morgan carefully helping Evie pick the first ornament for the tree.

Azzi follows Paige’s gaze, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Yeah. We are lucky.”

“Also, you should’ve named her Christmas Eve,” Paige jokes, nudging Azzi again. “Because then it’d be Evie on Christmas Eve.”

Azzi groans, rolling her eyes. “Paige, that joke was awful.”

“No, no, it’s brilliant,” Paige insists, grinning even wider. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” Azzi deadpans, but there’s no hiding the affectionate gleam in her eyes.

Before Paige can respond, Evie toddles over to them with an ornament clutched in her hand—a glittery silver star. “Mommy, Mama, look!”

Paige crouches down, holding out her hand so Evie can proudly place the star in her palm. “Perfect choice, baby,” she says, ruffling the little girl’s curls.

“Hey, Eve,” Nika calls from the couch. “Can I pick the next ornament?”

“No!” Evie says immediately, turning to look at her auntie with wide, scandalized eyes.

The entire room erupts in laughter, and Paige scoops Evie into her arms, peppering kisses on her cheeks. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re in charge tonight.”

Azzi watches them with a soft look on her face, her heart swelling at the sight of Paige laughing with their daughter. It’s loud and chaotic and entirely imperfect, but it’s theirs—this is home.

Just then, Evie runs to the window and presses her small hands against the glass. “Mama, Mommy! Deer!” she shouts excitedly, pointing outside.

Azzi and Paige exchange a surprised glance, walking over to the window just in time to see a small herd of deer grazing in their front yard, the snow lightly dusting their backs. The scene is serene, almost magical against the Christmas lights twinkling around their home.

“Well, looks like Santa’s helpers are here early,” Paige says with a grin.

Evie’s eyes light up. “Deers! Santa’s deers!”

Azzi wraps her arm around Paige’s waist, leaning in to whisper, “This is the Christmas magic I wanted for her.”

“Me too,” Paige replies softly, her voice filled with emotion as she pulls Evie into her arms, kissing the top of her head.

As the night goes on, the team makes themselves at home in every corner of the house. The tree gets decorated, stockings are hung, and the smell of cookies soon fills the kitchen as Evie proudly stands on a stepstool, helping Sarah and Caroline cut out shapes from the dough.

Paige sneaks a piece of cookie dough when Azzi isn’t looking, only to get swatted on the arm when she’s caught.

“Mommy!” Evie scolds, her little brows furrowed. “No eat dough.”

“Yeah, Mommy,” Azzi adds, giving Paige a pointed look.

“Traitors,” Paige mutters under her breath, though she can’t stop the grin tugging at her lips.

As the chaos swirls, Paige’s eyes narrow slightly as Morgan subtly nudges Azzi toward the dining room. “Az, can you help me for a second? These lights are tangled, and it’s a disaster.”

Azzi frowns, clearly suspicious. “Why can’t you ask KK or Amari?”

“They’ll just laugh at me,” Morgan says, pouting. “Come on, teamwork.”

Paige watches them disappear, her smirk growing as she turns back to the group. “Alright, you guys have five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes to what?” Caroline asks, already grinning as Ice pulls a roll of wrapping paper out from behind the couch.

“To wrap Paige as Azzi’s present,” KK says gleefully, tearing a piece of tape with her teeth.

“Not this again, that’s not what we talked about,” Paige groans. “I swear—”

“Shut up it’s tradition,” Ice insists. “The wives have to be presents.”

“It’s dumb,” Paige grumbles, even as Nika swoops in to lift Evie. “Evie, do you want to help wrap Mommy?”

Evie gasps, her little hands clapping together. “Mommy’s a pwesent?!”

“Yep,” Nika confirms, pulling Evie into her lap with the red ribbon in hand. “Special delivery for Mama Azzi.”

“Traitors,” Paige mutters as Caroline and Amari start clearing space, KK expertly lining up wrapping paper. “Every single one of you.”

“You’ll survive,” Ice grins, pulling Paige toward the center of the room.

—————

Meanwhile, in the dining room, Azzi is watching Morgan fiddle pointlessly with a string of lights. “I still don’t understand why you needed—”

“Almost done!” Morgan blurts out nervously. “Just—wait here for a second, okay?”

Azzi squints at her suspiciously. “You’re stalling.”

Morgan flashes an awkward smile. “Team spirit?”

Azzi mutters under her breath as Morgan blocks the doorway again, a little too obviously.

Back in the living room, Paige stands awkwardly, her arms wrapped tightly against her body under crinkled red and white paper. Ice slaps a giant bow onto her shoulder while KK sticks the finishing tag to Paige’s chest. In wobbly toddler letters, it reads: “To Mama, From Mommy.”

“Perfect,” Caroline says, grinning at her work.

“Azzi’s gonna kill you,” Paige mutters as Evie bounces excitedly.

Amari peeks toward the dining room. “She’s coming back! Get ready.”

The lights dim slightly, and Evie squeals in anticipation as the team scurries into position.

Morgan finally gives up and pushes Azzi toward the doorway. “Go see your surprise.”

Azzi steps into the living room, freezing as her gaze lands on Paige—fully wrapped, ribbon-tied, and looking both annoyed and amused. “What… is happening?”

“Merry Christmas, Mama!” Evie cries gleefully, pointing at Paige. “Mommy’s pwesent!”

The team bursts into laughter as Paige shuffles forward, the paper crackling loudly. “Your wife is the best gift you’ll ever get.”

Azzi blinks, then breaks into a soft, helpless laugh. “Oh my God. You guys did this?”

Evie scrambles over to hug Paige’s leg, her little arms patting the paper. “Mommy’s pwetty,” she declares proudly.

Azzi walks over, shaking her head as she cups Paige’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige smirks. “So… do you like your gift?”

Azzi leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s lips. “I think I’ll keep you.”

The team erupts into cheers, Evie clapping happily as Paige grins triumphantly. “Told you I was the best gift.”

“Wrapped and all,” Azzi teases softly, her gaze warm as she takes in the chaotic scene of their family. “Merry Christmas, P.”

Paige’s smile softens, her voice equally tender. “Merry Christmas, Az.”

—————

˖˙ ᰋ ── taglist:

@thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @makethemhoesmad @kmoneymartini @pazzilover101 @starlighttsv @lupinqs @absolutelydreadful @ashortyluvsports @melpthatsme @d3arapril @heyitssells

[dollfacefantasy]

You Make Me Cry Every Time

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon's going through a rough patch, and he takes it out on you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, angst, hurt/comfort, leon is mean in the beginning, toxic behavior i guess, implied age gap

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i was going through it and feeling emo so i wrote this. hope everyone enjoys as always <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight

The clock on the end table reads 2:43. Muted sounds of nightlife fill the space outside the walls of your apartment. You’re sprawled across the couch, half-asleep, with a soft blanket draped over you. You were waiting for your boyfriend to come home. Again.

Leon had been going through a rough patch. He was moody and ready to snap at any moment it seemed. He drank a lot, and he was gone all the time. You knew he had been through so much and there was no end in sight. That’s why you tried to put up with it, but all of it was weighing down on you too.

You sharply inhale as the sound of keys being jammed into the lock on the front door rouses you from your stupor. Sitting up straight, you rub your face tiredly. Your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness of the living room when the door opens. A beam of light from the hallway shoots across the floor, but it’s gone just as fast as it appears. You hear the lock click again and then see his shadow brush through the room as if you aren’t even there.

He’s in the kitchen now, and you’re not even fully sure of what he’s doing. But you pad in his direction anyways. Your soft voice breaks through the tense silence with a gentle call of his name.

“Leon?”

He turns to you. Even in the dark when you can’t fully see, you can feel the harsh nature of his stare.

“What are you doing up? Told you to stop waiting up for me,” he grumbles.

His tone stings, but you continue to approach him.

“I just worry. I can’t sleep if I don’t know you made it home safe,” you explain yourself quietly.

“Just go to bed. I’ll be there in a second,” he says and turns away again. But before he speaks, you swear you could hear him scoff. 

You didn’t understand where his sudden apparent resentment towards you came from. He had always dealt with so much, constantly feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. But until the last few months, he never took it out on you. Now though, it felt like you were dancing across a floor full of glass shards to avoid setting off an outburst of his.

“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” you say, keeping your voice quiet and cautiously laying your hand on his back.

It immediately became clear to you that touching him was the wrong choice though. He shrugs you off and pushes your hand back down to your side. Now that you were closer, you could smell the scent of booze on him. It wasn’t as heavy as previous nights, but it was still present. You retract your hand and stare at him with concern.

“Leon, what’s wrong? Have I done something to upset you? We can talk about it. I-” you try to defuse the situation before he cuts you off.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it’s enough,” he snaps. He fully pulls away from you. “Take a hint. Go to bed.”

He speaks with such disdain for you, it makes your chest ache. “I was just trying to help,” you say, looking like a kicked puppy more and more with each passing moment. He takes no sympathy on you though.

“Well, you aren’t helping. You don’t know shit about my problems, so stop trying to fix them,” he says to you, his voice ice cold.

“I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m just trying to be there for you because I love you!” you defend. His miserable disposition was starting to frustrate you. This wasn’t the first time you’d jumped through these hoops for him.

“Oh, bullshit,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

That slices through you like a knife. Your lips part slightly in shock, and your words tangle up in your throat. You fight back tears, not wanting to seem even more pathetic to him.

“I can see what you want. You want the old me back. But he’s not coming back. He doesn’t exist anymore,” he rants at you.

“I never said that. You can’t get mad at me for problems you’re creating!” you say to him angrily and cross your arms.

“Aw, you don’t want me to get mad at you? Did I hurt your feelings, baby? Am I being mean to you?” he mocks with a cruel smile before his emotionless expression returns, “Grow the fuck up.”

You try to ignore his teasing and work towards a solution, but that really hurt. And it seemed like he said it with no thought or remorse, like he had been storing that and it just came out. Tears burn in your eyes and a lump rises in your throat, but you manage to choke out your next statement. 

“All you do is push me away. I can’t help you because you won’t even tell me what’s wrong,” you say, forcing your voice to stay even.

“I push you away because you can’t handle real problems. You show me that over and over again. I mean, look, you’re almost in tears, and I haven’t said anything that bad,” he says with a gesture to your eyes.

“If I’m so fucking immature and selfish, why are you even with me?” you ask. A few tears leak from your eyes and down your cheeks but you wipe them away as quickly as you can.

“You know, I’ve been asking myself that question a lot recently, and it’s getting harder and harder for me to come up with an answer,” he says. He keeps eye contact with ease. His voice is laced with venom. There’s no trace of anything but bitter anger.

You honestly struggle to come up with a response. But that’s ok because he doesn’t wait for one before he continues speaking.

“I mean really, what do I get from this relationship? I know what you get. You get the attention you’re so fucking desperate for. But me? What do I get?” he asks, “A dumb little girl who follows me around like a lost puppy? I mean you’ve definitely got a pretty face, but it’s everything else that’s getting harder for me to stomach.”

You can’t stop yourself at this point. He knew how to break you down. Your lip juts out ever so slightly and quivers as tears slide down your cheeks. You take a step back from him and look down.

“There we go. Always with the fucking crying,” he sighs. His tone becomes mocking again as he continues. “You want me to kiss it better, sweetheart? Tell you everything’s gonna be ok. That I’m so so sorry.”

“No,” you cry, trying to defend yourself, “I don’t want any of that from you.”

“I’m sure,” he says flatly.

“Fuck you, Leon,” you weep, “I can’t win with you. You’re absolutely hellbent on being miserable. I’m done. Deal with your shit on your own. I don’t give a fuck.”

You turn on your heel and rush off to the bedroom. You fling the door shut, the thud of the slam echoing through the apartment.

At first, Leon didn’t care. His initial reaction was a shrug. He walks over to the couch, puts his feet up on the coffee table, and turns on the tv to some old movie. He was in a pissy mood, and he especially wasn’t in the mood to deal with you.

But as time goes on, and he sits there alone, a sense of shame starts to cast a shadow over his heart. He keeps seeing your face in his head. The soft look in your eyes while they were full tears he caused. Your body language as he ridiculed you, shrinking away from him, eager to get away but afraid of looking weak. He could hear a replay of his voice spitting out every callous thing he could think of. He felt like such an asshole.

It didn’t help that he was surrounded by things of yours. You’d brought out a pillow and blanket for yourself while you stayed up for him. They smelled like you. On the table, you had a book you’d been reading for a while. You’d tell him parts and explain the drama to him when he wasn’t in a bad mood. The tv remotes, spare the one he had grabbed, were organized in the particular way you always did when you watched tv. He felt the void in his heart growing as you stayed shut away in the bedroom.

You weren’t faring much better. You curled up under the comforter on the bed, crying softly into the pillows. You were missing your favorite one since you’d left it out on the couch. You felt a deep ache in your abdomen, a weight that kept you thinking about him and everything he’d said to you.

Despite how tired you’d been before he came home, you couldn’t sleep now. No position felt comfortable. Nothing made the bed feel less empty.

You felt so pathetic. You should be mad at him, furious, enraged. He acted like such a dick. He said things that gave you reasonable grounds to kick him out. But you didn’t feel that way. You didn’t want that. You were heartbroken. He was right. You yearned for him to kiss it better and tell you it was all ok and that he didn’t mean any of it.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it. You give in. It was humiliating, but that was what you chose. You pad into the living room skeptically. You stand a distance from the couch, afraid of setting off another landmine. But if he wanted to yell, you’d let him at this point. You just wanted him.

He sees you standing near the opening to the hallway that entered the living room. You looked so sad, it tore at his heart. Your face was a mess, your posture was so timid. What was wrong with him?

“Come here,” he sighs and pats his lap.

Without hesitation, you cross the room. You’re in his arms, against his chest. Your arms are wrapped around him tight while your head is buried in the crook of his neck. You start crying again, but you keep it as quiet as possible, still hearing always with the fucking crying ringing through your mind.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out as you struggle to restrain a sob. You didn’t even know what you were really apologizing for. “I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

Another deep sigh escapes him. It could have been interpreted as annoyance, but you could tell it was regret. He rubs your back and holds you close against him.

“Shhh shhh. It’s alright, baby. It’s ok,” he says softly before stroking your hair, “We’re ok. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you weep and cling to him.

“No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be so quick to snap at you,” he says in a hushed tone. He kisses your head and continues rubbing your back, something he always did to calm you down.

He kept his voice quiet to keep his own emotions in check. He wanted you to be ok and to know he was sorry. But you didn’t need to know how awful this made him feel. Guilt was gnawing at him now as he watched you cry out the pain his words had inflicted on you. He gently rocks back and forth with you, wanting to calm you down even more. 

“Baby, this isn’t your fault. None of this is,” he says, “I got my own shit going on, and I take it out on you because it’s easy.”

His voice drops to a whisper towards the end of his statement. His words dripped with shame.

“You don’t deserve the shit I say to you, but I just see you standing there, looking so fucking sweet and perfect and you’re looking at me with all the love in the world and I can’t fucking take it,” he says, his voice cracking a little, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do,” you cry, grabbing onto him tighter.

“No, I don’t. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Staying up every night, waiting for a mean old fuck to come home and yell at you,” he says. It was now his turn for his eyes to water while  a lump grows in his throat.

You were at another loss for words. You didn’t know what would convince him not to feel so down on himself. Instead, you press a soft kiss to the side of his throat. He tilts his head back and deeply exhales at the pure gesture. 

“And when I said I didn’t know why we were still together… I hope you know what a huge lie that was,” he says, “You’re all I have in this ugly god damn world. That’s it. Without you, I’d just be going through the motions.”

You gaze up at him as he goes through this. You curl your legs up on his lap with the rest of your body and lean into his touch in an attempt to offer him some comfort.

“And when I look at you, I see the opposite,” he says, his voice fully breaking now, “I see someone who has her entire future ahead of her, and she’s wasting it hanging around a guy like me.”

“You’re not a waste,” you say, sitting up and placing your hand on his cheek.

Your thumb moves back and forth in tiny motions, dragging across the skin soothingly. You both stare into each others’ tearful eyes.

“You’re not a waste to me. I love you. You’re important to my life too,” you say seriously looking at him.

“Baby…” he sighs. You were so fucking cute. If he had any spine, he would break up with you. Force you to do better for yourself. But he couldn’t. He knew in his heart of hearts that he would never be able to let you go.

You lean in and give him a soft kiss. You rub your nose with his. You shift on his lap to be in a better position to give him your affection.

His hands fall to your hips to steady you. He returns the gesture and presses two gentle kisses of his own to your cheeks. “I’m sorry, angel,” he whispers.

You lean in for more kisses, accepting the apology with your actions. You rub the back of his neck and press your body against his. The question of whether he deserved forgiveness crossed your mind, but you didn’t dwell on it. You didn’t really care.

He groans into the kiss as he feels your breasts flush against his chest. Your tongue enters his mouth, and he returns the passion. In a few minutes, saliva coats your lips and your breathing is heavy. You gently roll your hips down.

He feels that as soon as you do it. He disconnects his lips for a moment and looks at you with dilated pupils. You rock your hips again, bringing down your clothed cunt on his jeans. The stiff fabric gives you a good amount of friction and coaxes a whine from your throat.

“Honey,” he grunts, “Are you sure? You’re not just doing this because… because you think you have to, right?”

He didn’t want you using sex because you thought that’s what would please him. But he also couldn’t ignore the feeling of his cock hardening in pants.

You shake your head, panting as you grind on him, your lips still flushed from making out. “I wanna feel your love,” you say, your voice breathless.

That didn’t make him feel much better, but you felt so fucking good. “Babe, I can make you feel loved in other ways. Afterwards, I can show-”

“Wanna feel close,” you say before kissing him some more to shut him up.

Well, this would be as close as you could get. That put him at enough ease to give in to his urges. He grabs your hips harder, kneading the flesh of your ass too, and guides your movements. Both of you let out pleasurable sounds at the sensation.

“So fucking good to me,” he grunts, “My perfect girl.”

Your hips don’t stop as you pull off your thin sleep top. Your head falls back at the muted pleasure you were receiving from rubbing yourself on him.

His hands leave your hips and cup your tits. He squeezes them and then brings his mouth to a nipple. He flicks his tongue on the peak and swirls it with dedication. You let out a breathy whine.

He scoots you closer and continues his mouth’s work on your chest. His cock was now completely stiff in his pants, offering you even better friction. You feel it pressing on your clit just how you like, and you bite your lip. He can tell it’s feeling good.

He pulls his lips away from your nipples. Then he lays a few wet kisses on your jaw before picking you up by the waist and laying you back on the couch. He tugs off your shorts and panties.

His hand slides between your legs. He drags his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were.

“Such a sweet girl,” he breathes and captures your lips again in a quick kiss, “You’re soaked, babydoll.”

You nod timidly. He rubs you a little more, circling your throbbing clit and gliding over your wanting hole. You bite your lip and moan softly. Your hips rock against this touch as well before you suddenly whimper at a loss of contact and look up to see him sliding your fingers in his mouth. He groans at the taste of you before pulling the fingers back out of his mouth.

Reaching down, he unbuckles belt and drops his pants to the floor. He strokes his solid, flushed cock a few times. With the faint glow of the tv casting over the two of you, you can see a bead of precum emerging from the head. He adjusts his stance and positions himself at your entrance.

“I’m so sorry, little love. Let me try to make it better,” he breathes as he pushes inside.

Moans bubble in his throat as your tight, wet heat engulfs him. His head tilts back, and a ragged breath puffs from his lips. He grips the back of your thighs and holds your legs up.

He’s slow at first, dragging himself in and out, making sure to feel every inch of you. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, and your hips squirm for more.

As he begins to really thrust and set a consistent pace, he leans down to kiss you again. It’s sloppy and rushed, but he needed to feel you like this. He needed to feel that he hadn’t broken the connection you two had.

“My precious fucking girl. Am I making you feel good? Do you feel close to me?” he grunts, his grip tightening, “Can you tell how much I love you?”

You whine in response and nod. Your body heats up as he continues to slide in and out. He stretches you out just the way you like, fills you up so perfectly. He hits every sweet spot inside of you to make you forget he was even capable of saying such mean things sometimes.

You reach your arms up and pull his head down to rest against your neck. Your eyes were still full of your tears from earlier and a few slip out because of the strong difference between the euphoria of right now compared to the despair of the last hour.

One of your thighs drops back on the couch as the hand that was holding it comes up to your hair. He laces his fingers through the strands and begins pressing messy kisses to the side of your throat.

“My pretty baby,” he whispers against your skin, “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

His hips continue their movements, his pelvis connecting with the skin of your ass over and over. He nuzzles your neck. You can hear his mix of harsh pants and soft groans right next to your ear. You cling to him as the heat inside you rises.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart. Wanna make sure you’re getting everything you deserve,” he says.

“Feels perfect,” you whimper after a string of moans, “I- I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Me too, doll,” he says. His hips piston into you harder. Your hands dig into the muscles of his back while your toes curl

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Leon,” you choke out as a cry leaves you.

“Mhm, good baby. I want you to cum for me, honey. I want you to feel so fucking good. Let it all go,” he says. 

His hand slides from his hair to your face and brushes away some of your tears. He kisses your cheek softly as you fall over the edge into bliss. Your body convulses underneath him as you release. You moan and writhe and the whole time he strokes your hair, cooing at you “my pretty girl” and “so so good for me.”

You were so tight around him. The sight of your eyes squeezing shut and your lips parting in ecstasy was too much for him. He thrusts into you a few more times before a moan rumbles through his chest and out of his mouth. He slams deep inside of you to spill himself. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood your insides.

You were shaky and trembling as he pulled out and planted a kiss on your forehead. He sits back on the couch, pushing the hair out of his face before pulling you up and close to him. He positions you on his lap and holds you to his chest.

He starts rubbing your back again and kissing your hairline. “Love you, babydoll. So so fucking much,” he whispers.

Your eyes close as you return the embrace and melt into his lap. You nuzzle and kiss his chest, relaxing into the affection.

“There’s my girl. All mine,” he coos.

You nod, enjoying the nice moment and letting yourself pretend that this whole cycle wouldn’t repeat in a few days time.

[bb-blu-love]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆when the world is asleep⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

tags: idol!bangchan x reader, established relationship, fluff, slight hurt comfort (really just a couple doing their best in a bad situation), reader has ~anxiety~

3:00 AM in the quiet part of town is your favorite place in the world. On the outskirts of the city, where only families and old folks live and the streets are empty this time of night, you have found what seems like the only place in the world where you and Chan can feel truly at ease.

You’d been waiting for him to come over all day, so when he finally called around ten saying he just left the studio you became giddy with excitement that soon turned into anxiety. It’s not like he had never been to your apartment before or that you felt uncomfortable around him; it’s just that you can never shake the fear that this time is when everything will go wrong. That this is the night you’ll be caught by photographers or fans and soon everyone will know and your relationship will change forever. That your whole life could change forever. These worries echoed in your brain as you went down to the entrance of your building to let Chan in. 

Your nerves were obvious; you didn’t hug him as tightly as you wanted to--trying to maintain the illusion that you could just be friends should anyone see you--and your smile twisted into a grimace as you kept an eye on your surroundings.

The summer night air ruffled the hair that stuck out from his hat “Hey, Baby!” he said with a soft smile “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m glad you could come over tonight,” You shyly smile, still not being able to shake the tight feeling in your stomach. 

He hummed a response and, sensing how on edge you were , looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around before asking, “Should we go upstairs? I brought ice cream,” and lifted up a convenience store bag in his hand.

After heading up to your apartment the two of you spent hours just talking in your room. You were mostly catching up—you hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days due to your schedules—but eventually, it dissolved into a mess of inside jokes, you showing him all the Tik Toks you’d saved for him, him showing you videos of the boys messing around in dance practice in return, and whatever other nonsense made you both smile. Even though your relationship could be stressful, actually being with Chan was the easiest thing in the world. Honestly, you would be happy staying here forever; cuddled in his arms in the dim light of your bedroom, listening to his laugh get all squeaky as he worked himself up over some dumb video you won’t even remember in the morning. 

What you will remember, however, is how hot you are right now. Turns out your fourth-floor apartment with one broken AC unit could spell quite the sweathouse in the summer—especially with the amount of physical contact you two are prone to after some time apart. Chan had already shed his shirt sometime in between his first and second popsicle, and you had all of your fans on high pointed at your bed where you both laid tangled up with each other.

Chan, after finally calming down from his laughing fit, let out a sigh as he stared up at your ceiling. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, why?" You asked, confused by his sudden declaration.

He continued quickly, "And you know that I really like coming over to your place-"

"Yeahh?"

"-because of the lack of roommates and overall better smell?"

"Also, I have HBO."

"Yes, also that—so will you not take offense if I, hypothetically, say that I’m going to die of heat stroke if I stay in here any longer?" He looked over at you with a rueful smile.

You laughed silently as you looked into his eyes. "I’ll go get my shoes."

He let out a triumphant "Yes!" and pumped his fist into the air as you got off of the bed, satisfied with the result of your banter. As you continued to get ready, he moved to the edge of your bed and was brought back to how anxious you seemed when he first arrived. "We don’t actually have to go out if you don’t want to, though," he said, scratching his arm as a nervous tick. "I know that we both get all paranoid when we’re not in private, and I don’t want to ruin the night or anything."

You turned to face him and put a reassuring hand on his arm, whilst you tried to shove your own concerns to the back of your mind."Don’t worry about it. I was thinking we could go to that one spot—you know, where we went on your birthday?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect." He said with a relieved smile.

And that’s what brought you here; after checking for paparazzi from your apartment windows, and after you went outside and checked again, ensuring you both had your incognito face masks and baseball caps on. Finally, you were able to make the epic journey two blocks down and one over to a small playground surrounded by some trees and a fence: your safe haven. Taking in the warm night air as the wind lightly blows across your face--gently wicking the sweat on your brow--and hearing the leaves softly rustle as you both sit on the old swing set and let your legs dangle. You did what you loved to do most with each other: you talked.

"I’m sorry it’s always like this," Chan said as he looked at his feet, the toe of his shoes sputtering over the rubbery ground as he swayed, "that we can’t just get together and go to restaurants and the movies or—I don’t know— win you a big teddy bear at a carnival," he laughs half-heartedly, "or whatever regular couples get to do."

You smile sadly. "I’m sorry too. Maybe I’m just being overly cautious." 

He reaches over, grabs your hand, and rubs gentle circles on the back with his thumb, letting you know he isn’t mad and that he doesn’t blame you for anything. 

"I could tell the company, and they could release a statement or something." His tone hitches up at the end, almost like it’s a question—or maybe just the only thing he can think of to ease your guilt.

Not wanting to worry him, and always the best at avoiding the hard topics, you raise your eyebrows and sarcastically remark, "Oh yeah, and that would go over really well."

"Hm, yeah, you’re right. What do you think they would say, though?"

You lower your voice and attempt your best soulless executive impression. "'How could you, Chan?! You’re being so selfish by having desires and feelings! How do you expect us to monetize you when we can’t sell you as a fantasy boyfriend? Blargh rargh raa!'" You both chuckle at the absurdity of your situation: "And then of course you’ll get punished by your company, and everyone on Twitter is going to eat you alive when they find out, and you’ll get a tidal wave of hate thrown at you-"

"Oh, for sure." He nods along to your pessimistic prophecy (and excellent impression).

"-and I’ll be, like, assassinated by a bunch of teenagers whose identity hinges on the fantasy that they are secretly your one true love." You finish with a breathy chuckle.

He smiles at the ground. "Hey, Stays are much more than that," he says in an only half-serious defense.

"Heh, not the ones that I’ll have to deal with," you reply, almost to yourself. He seems to draw back at that comment, whatever clever response he had lined up dying on his lips.

You press your toes into the soft ground and push your swing over to his so that your shoulders touch. "I’m joking, Chan," you say in a soft voice.

"No, you're not." He shoots back in defeat. You sigh and try to meet his evasive eyes.

"You’re right, I’m not," you sigh, leaning in closer to him, "but that doesn’t mean I regret any of this. I can wish things were different while still loving how they are now." He finally meets your eyes, and his gaze goes soft. You share a fond look and, without words, reach an understanding: you're the best thing that has happened to each other, and eventually your love may see the light of day, but for now, just this is more than enough.

He brings your hand up to his mouth and lightly kisses your knuckles before letting your arms fall in between the both of you. "You’re right. I love this too. I’ll love anything as long as we can do it together." His words are full of tenderness and a rom-com sincerity that only he can do right.

"Except sit in my hot apartment." You smile as you lean towards him, and he smiles too as he goes in for a kiss.

"No, I loved that too. Just a little less than this." His lips touch yours, gentle and grinning, as your giggles float up into the night sky and you feel truly at ease once more.

[heartysworld]

No reservations, just love // CS55

Carlos Sainz x Reader

I love how this one turned out! I hope you like it as well!

W.C: 3k

MASTERLIST

You pace the spacious kitchen in your apartment, glancing worriedly at the clock. Sofia, your sweet seven-year-old niece, is curled up on the couch in the living room, her eyes glued to a cartoon, but her expression is distant. For the past week, since she came to stay with you and Carlos, she’s barely touched her food. The stress of her parents' messy divorce has taken a toll on her, and her refusal to eat is starting to worry you more with each passing day.

Carlos comes home, his usual bright energy tempered with concern as he notices the untouched plate of food on the counter.

"How is she?" he asks, placing his hands on your waist, pulling your body cloae to his.

"Still not eating," you reply, trying to keep the frustration and sadness out of your voice. "I’ve tried everything. I tried to take her out to the park, for ice cream, i got her some puzzlez, nothing.She just won’t budge."

Carlos looks over at Sofia, then back at you, a determined glint in his eyes. "Why don’t you take a break? Let me handle dinner tonight."

"You don’t have to—" you start, but he cuts you off with a gentle kiss.

"Trust me, amor. I’ve got this."

You sigh, nodding, and decide to take a much-needed shower. As the hot water washes over you, you can’t help but wonder what Carlos has planned. During the past week, Sofia's been your priority. You loved the little girl with your whole being, and seeing her like this broke your heart with each passing day.

When you return, feeling a bit more refreshed, you find Carlos kneeling beside Sofia on the couch.

"Hey, Sofia," he says softly. "How about we make something special together?"

Sofia glances at him, her wide eyes filled with curiosity but still tinged with sadness. She doesn’t respond, but Carlos doesn’t give up.

"I’m going to make a special dinner just for you. But I need your help. What do you say?" He extends his hand to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she takes it.

You watch from the doorway as Carlos leads her into the kitchen. He pulls out ingredients from the pantry and fridge, setting them on the counter with a flourish.

"We’re going to make my secret pasta recipe," he explains, his voice warm and engaging. "It’s super fun and delicious. I think you’ll love it."

Sofia looks at the ingredients, then back at Carlos, a tiny spark of interest in her eyes.

"First, we need to mix the flour and eggs," he says, handing her a small bowl. "Do you want to help me with that?"

She nods shyly, and you can’t help but smile as Carlos gently guides her through the steps. Flour gets everywhere, and Sofia giggles when a bit lands on Carlos's nose. You lean against the doorway, watching as Carlos kneads the dough, then lets Sofia help roll it out and cut it into shapes.

"See, it's like magic," Carlos says, showing her how the dough stretches and changes shape under their hands. "Do you know what we're making? Tagliatelle! It's a special kind of pasta."

Sofia's eyes light up a bit at the word 'magic,' and she starts to ask questions. "Why do we put flour on the table?"

"It helps the dough not to stick," Carlos explains, dusting some flour on her nose playfully. She giggles, wiping it off.

"Now for the sauce," he continues, moving to the stove. "Do you like tomatoes?"

Sofia nods.

"Perfect! We'll make a simple tomato sauce. You can help me stir."

They work together, side by side, and you marvel at how patient and kind Carlos is with her. It's a side of him that never fails to make you fall in love with him all over again.

"How about some basil?" Carlos asks, handing her a few leaves to tear. "It makes everything smell amazing."

Sofia inhales the fresh, peppery scent and smiles. "It smells like a garden," she says softly.

When the pasta is finally ready, Carlos sets the table, placing a small plate in front of Sofia.

"Ta-da! Chef Sofia's special pasta. Give it a try?"

Sofia looks at the plate, then back at Carlos. She hesitates but picks up her fork and takes a tentative bite. Her eyes widen, and a small smile creeps onto her face.

"It’s good," she whispers, taking another bite.

Carlos beams, his heart swelling with pride and relief. "I’m glad you like it."

You walk over and wrap your arms around Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thank you," you whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I don’t know how you did it, but thank you."

Carlos kisses the top of your head, his voice tender. "Anything for you, amor. And for Sofia."

Sofia watches the two of you, her fork paused mid-air. For a moment, the warmth and love between you and Carlos seem to wrap around her like a comforting blanket. She sees the way Carlos looks at you, the way you lean into him, and something in her finally starts to relax. She takes another bite, her shoulders loosening as she feels, maybe for the first time in a while, a sense of calm.

As the three of you sit at the table, Sofia starts to open up, talking about her favorite things and even giggling at some of Carlos's silly jokes. The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming lighter and filled with the sound of Sofia's laughter.

"Did you know that your aunt is the best cook ever?" Carlos teases, looking at you with a mischievous grin. "She taught me everything I know."

Sofia giggles, looking between the two of you. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Carlos confirms, his eyes twinkling. "And she makes the best desserts too. Maybe we can make something sweet together next time?"

Sofia's eyes brighten at the prospect, and you nod, smiling. "How about chocolate chip cookies?"

"Yes, please!" Sofia exclaims, her excitement palpable.

The evening continues with more laughter and light conversation. Sofia seems more at ease, her earlier sadness melting away in the warmth of your shared moment. After dinner, Carlos suggests a movie night, and the three of you snuggle up on the couch, Sofia nestled comfortably between you and Carlos.

As the movie plays, you glance over at Carlos, his hand resting gently on Sofia's shoulder, his other hand intertwined with yours. You lean in and whisper, "Thank you, Carlos. For everything."

He turns his head slightly, kissing your temple. "Anything for you, amor."

Sofia, half-asleep, catches the sweet exchange, and for the first time in a long while, she feels truly safe and loved. The bond between you and Carlos gives her a sense of security she's been missing, and it helps her to finally let go of some of her worries.

That night, as you tuck Sofia into bed, she hugs you tightly. "I love you, Aunt Y/N," she murmurs, her voice drowsy but content.

"I love you too, Sofia," you reply, kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

You walk back to the living room, where Carlos is cleaning up the kitchen. You join him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

"She’s finally asleep," you say softly.

Carlos turns in your embrace, cupping your face in his hands. "You did great, you know. She’s lucky to have you."

"We did great," you correct, smiling up at him.

Carlos kisses you deeply, and in that kiss, you feel the promise of many more moments like this, filled with love and warmth. In that moment, you know there are no reservations—just love.

The following weekend, you and Carlos decide to take Sofia to the local farmer's market. The sun is shining, and the vibrant colors of the fresh produce and flowers lift everyone's spirits. Sofia, holding both of your hands, looks around with wide eyes, her curiosity piqued.

As you browse the stalls, Carlos spots a stand selling freshly baked goods and points it out to Sofia. "Look, Sofia! They have chocolate chip cookies. Want to try making some at home?"

Her eyes light up, and she nods eagerly. You smile at Carlos, grateful for his ability to connect with her. You purchase the ingredients and a few treats, then head home with plans for a fun baking session.

Back at the apartment, the three of you gather in the kitchen. Carlos ties a small apron around Sofia, which makes her giggle. "Okay, Chef Sofia," he says with a grin. "Let's make the best cookies ever."

Sofia helps measure out the flour and sugar, carefully pouring them into the mixing bowl. You crack the eggs and add the vanilla, then hand her the whisk. As she stirs, Carlos adds the chocolate chips, stealing one to pop into his mouth, making Sofia laugh.

"You have to save some for the cookies!" she chides, her laughter filling the kitchen.

Carlos feigns innocence. "Oops, my bad."

With the dough ready, you help Sofia scoop it onto the baking sheet. As the cookies bake, the delicious aroma fills the apartment, and you can see Sofia's excitement building.

While waiting, Carlos suggests a game of charades. Sofia eagerly joins in, and soon, the living room is filled with laughter as you all try to guess each other's silly actions. When the timer goes off, signaling that the cookies are done, Sofia races to the kitchen, with you and Carlos following close behind.

Carlos carefully takes the tray out of the oven and sets it on the counter to cool. Sofia stands on her tiptoes, watching the cookies with anticipation.

"Almost ready," Carlos says, ruffling her hair.

Once the cookies are cool enough to eat, you each take one. Sofia takes a big bite and her face lights up. "These are the best cookies ever!" she declares.

Carlos grins and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I think it's because Chef Sofia helped."

That evening, as you sit together enjoying the cookies and watching Sofia's favorite movie, you feel a deep sense of contentment. Carlos pulls you closer, whispering in your ear, "You know, we make a pretty good team."

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. "We really do."

As the movie ends and you start cleaning up, Sofia curls up on the couch, looking sleepy but happy. She watches you and Carlos move around the kitchen, putting away the dishes and tidying up.

Just as you finish, Sofia's soft voice breaks the silence. "I love you, Aunt Y/N. I love you, Carlos."

Carlos freezes, his eyes widening in shock. He looks at you, then at Sofia, clearly moved by her words. He swallows hard, his voice thick with emotion. "I... I love you too, Sofia."

You can see the tears welling up in his eyes as he walks over to the couch and kneels beside her. He gently takes her hand, his voice shaking slightly. "You know, Sofia, you mean a lot to us. You've made our home so much brighter."

Sofia smiles sleepily, her eyes closing as she nestles into the cushions. "I'm happy here," she murmurs.

Carlos looks up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's happy," he whispers, as if he can't quite believe it.

You walk over and kneel beside him, wrapping your arms around both Carlos and Sofia. "We're all happy," you say softly. "Together."

Carlos pulls you both into a tight embrace, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your little family, he realizes just how much Sofia has come to mean to him. The bond you've all formed is something truly special, something he never wants to lose.

As the three of you sit there, wrapped in each other's arms, Carlos feels a deep sense of contentment wash over him. Despite the challenges, despite the uncertainties, you have all found something beautiful together. There are no reservations—just love, and a future filled with endless possibilities.

MASTERLIST

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