#like I’ve talked about this before but like

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do…” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?” 

[no-144444]

marriage talk -o.piastri

summary: oscar answers random questions for mclaren's instagram, not once did he think it would take him down this road...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

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“Would you rather get married, or get a tattoo?” 

The question had been eating at him for the past few days, pondering his answer in detail. Oscar wasn’t the kind of person to do things on a whim (although he definitely could), and his most trusted confidant was… you. His girlfriend. 

“What do you think about marriage?” he asked over dinner one night. You two hadn’t really thought about it before, only really mentioning the fact that sometime in your lives you’d both like to have children. 

You stared at him for a moment. “You aren’t about to propose in public, right?” you asked, the dread clear on your face. 

He chuckled, taking your hand. “No, shockingly I don’t think you’d like that.”

You nodded, your face one of relief. “Good, that would’ve been terrible,” you quickly took a sip of your drink. “But what about marriage?”

“Do you want that?” he asked, his heart beating out of his chest. 

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah? I like the idea of getting everyone together and dressing up. We’d have to do our vows privately of course.”

He laughed again, squeezing your hand. You were so private, yet you were dating one of twenty current F1 drivers in the world. “Of course.” 

“But… yeah. It sounds nice. Mr. and Mrs. Piastri,” you chuckled and he felt his pants tighten slightly, though he’d never tell you that. “What about you?”

I love the idea. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since last week. I want to get a ring now. I want to be your husband. I love you so much. I want to see you in a white dress. I want to see you walking down the altar looking as beautiful as you always do. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d like that.” 

“Who’s proposing?” you teased. 

“Me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes as you laughed. “Who says I don’t already have a ring?”

Your laughter died down and you just smiled. “Well, I’ll be expecting it now.”

He chuckled and raised your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I’ll deliver.” 

“If you do it in public I’ll say no,” you reminded him and he nodded.  “I know sweetheart,” he smiled. “I know.”

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[vampzity]

1-800-hot & fun | BC

★ DAY TWELVE: PHONE SEX WITH BANGCHAN ★

pairing: best friend! bangchan x f! reader

after a long day of studio work, bangchan just wants to relax. except all he can think about is you. he tries to take care of it, only to get a call from you with complaints about the day you had. little did you know how much your voice turned him on.

[warnings]: MDNI 18+ !!!, smut, drabble, phone sex, masturbation, mentioning of circulation play, reader has no idea what chan’s doing, pet names (baby, babygirl)

word count: 1.4k

Bangchan sighed to himself as he leaned back in his chair, head thrown back with his eyes closed. He held his throbbing cock in his hand, jerking it softly as he scrolled through the countless photos he had of you.

They weren’t anything lewd, in fact it was far from that. Simply normal selfies you took and sent to him for his opinion on which to post.

He was beyond exhausted from today’s work in the studio, just wanting to wind down a bit before he took to the road. Though his mind was racing with sensual thoughts of you and it wouldn’t stop.

You two weren’t together— in fact he wasn’t even sure if you liked him, but he knew one thing for sure. Bangchan had the biggest crush on you, he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He wasn’t sure if he was being obvious about it, though one may say so with how possessive he was about you when the rest of the boys were around.

He scrolled through every photo of you, landing on a couple of pictures from your modeling gig. You had on light pink lingerie, lace that sat nicely upon your curves. The positions the camera caught you in were vulnerable, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It was everything he imagined you to be.

Innocent and sexy.

Your doe eyes stared into his as he worked his angry cock, groaning at the thought of your plump lips around his tip. The way it would feel for you to suck him off as cum leaked out of him. How well he would train you to take his size into your mouth, the tears that would run down your cheek from his tip hitting the back of your throat.

He scrolled to the side, seeing a close up of your body in the lace outside. His eyes widened, heart racing as your tits sat nicely in the cupped bra, your cunt making a small pint in the fabric. The way the babydoll casted a slight shadow of your silhouette.

Bangchan was practically in heaven, his hand fastening its pace around his cock. He could feel himself about to burst at any moment, until he felt his phone buzz in his hand. Startled he quickly shoved his member into his pants and answered, clearing his throat to mask his previous situation.

“Hello?”

“Channie! You wouldn’t believe the type of day I’ve been having.”

Chan smiled at hearing your voice, as it’s been a while since you two have talked at all from your mix of busy schedules.

“Hey babygirl, what’s up?”

You scoffed on your side of the phone, rolling your eyes at his personal nickname for you.

“Well I got to the studio for my modeling gig and my coffee just fell!! It tasted perfect too like how upsetting is that,”

He listened to you ramble on, feeling his dick twitch in his pants as his mind started to race with thoughts of you once again. He thought about you in different types of lingerie, imagining how nicely your body must fit into them this time around.

He pulled his member from his pants, his tip leaking as it ached to be touched. He stroked it softly, throwing his head back in pleasure as he tried his best not to be heard.

“And if that wasn’t enough, my makeup is so splotchy. I think i’ll have to redo it too!”

Bangchan tightened his grip on his cock, fastening his strokes as he listened to your complaining whines. He tried his best to focus to what you were saying, but his mind was fogged with dirty thoughts of you. Dirty thoughts of you all over him, of him ripping that little lingerie off of you.

“Mmm, I’m sorry to hear that baby.”

A soft moan escaped him, making him freeze up in hopes that you didn’t hear him.

“Everything ok, Channie? Was it a rough day in the studio?”

He chuckled to himself slightly, his thumb rubbing across his leaky opening. He began stroking his cock again, twisting his hand with the motion.

“Yeah, yeah.” he panted heavily, watching as his cock leaked some more. “But hearing your voice made it better.”

You blushed softly, taking your phone and posing in the mirror. You took a picture of today’s outfit— one of many that you’d be wearing and sent it to Bangchan, eager for his reaction.

“What do you think? Too slutty?”

His jaw practically dropped at seeing you. His ears grew red, feeling as if the room was heating up from seeing you in such an outfit. The black polkadots weren’t nearly enough to cover how see through it was as your nipples still peeked through.

Bangchan stopped himself from groaning outloud, struggling to keep his composure toward you.

“You look beautiful as always.” He leaned over his desk, spotting your hair tie next to his computer.

He grabbed it, closing his eyes as he vowed to never give it back to you again. Especially not after what he was about to do. He placed the hair tie on his cock, a long sigh leaving his lips as it tightened around his length.

“Should model for me, yeah?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” you raised your eyebrow, unaware of what he meant. Chan quickly caught himself, trying to cover up the sultry meaning behind his sentence.

“My company, I mean you should model for my company.”

You laughed, going on a tangent about all the things wrong with his entertainment. As much as he’d like to listen, he just couldn’t. He was too drunk on the thought of you and your body in this newfound picture. Your pussy barely covertly the small piece of fabric, your tits practically spilling out of your bra.

He stroked faster, quicker, not stopping his movement as his cock throbbed in his hand. With every throb, every time it tried to swell, he could feel himself getting closer as your hair tie held him back.

And of course, you were still as oblivious to what was going on.

Bangchan quickly muted himself, setting his phone down as he groaned out in pleasure. His precum drooled down the side of his cock as he thrusted into his hand.

“Fuck, fuck baby.” he admired your picture once more before throwing his head back.

“Gotta cum all over that pretty face of yours one day.”

His groans soon fell into whimpers as he stroked faster. Your hair tie was suffocating him, making it harder for him to hold himself back. He imagined you in his head; thinking of you riding his cock while your tits bounced in front of his eyes.

He imagined how it would feel for your cunt to suffocate his dick in the same way while it pounded your sweet spot. He wondered how your sweet sounds would be, how much you’d beg as his tongue toyed with your swollen clit.

“Fuck, I would stuff you so good.”

That was all it took.

Within seconds his hand was covered in cum, dripping onto the chair as he slowed his strokes. His breath was staggered, heart racing and shaking ad he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“Channie?”

Oh fuck.

He quickly cleaned himself off, picking up the phone to answer you.

“I’m sorry.. I was trying to focus on this track we’ve been working on.”

He heard a small laugh come from the other end of the phone, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he tried to figure out what you could be laughing for.

“Yeah, and I bet you didn’t notice you were unmuted either, huh?”

His heart sank and his face flushed red. He froze, unsure of what to say to you as he was beyond embarrassed. You had no idea— maybe not even a thought of Bangchan ever liking you, as you always thought he’d seen you as a close friend.

Funny, since he had thought the same.

“You don’t have to apologize Channie.” you looked at the time on your phone, realizing you had to start your shoot soon.

“Maybe when I’m done here,” You bit your lip, thinking of the lewd sounds you heard coming from his end of the phone.

“I can stop by your place and give you what you want.”

Bangchan instantly agreed, his cock itching at the thought of being able to feel you, be in you. You giggled, sending him a farewell and hanging up the phone. His phone lit up with the precious picture of you in your lingerie, a small smile creeping onto his face.

He was about to see you dressed like this in person, right before his eyes and it would take everything in him not to rip it off of you.

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: day 12, this is a short one! if you haven’t noticed a change in the masterlist…. i’m planning some bonus days as a thank you to those who showed so much support to my series! :3

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[tooturtly]

Just so ppl know it does get better! I didn’t really have friends from ages 13-18, and even before then I always felt a little different (gay and neurodivergent). And yeah, it sucked. I thought I was doing everything right. I talked to people in class, I did extracurriculars, I was involved. But nobody was texting me unless it was about something school related. I wasn’t invited to anybody’s house. Twice the people I ate lunch with made homecoming plans but never invited me, I just showed up bc of how much they talked about it.

It finally took seeing the group of people I thought were my friends really overtly reject an openly neurodivergent guy from the friend group. Why? Because he talked too much, he was too sincere. It wasn’t any fault of his own. When I hung out with him in a smaller group, I had a blast. And I realized it wasn’t his fault or mine, but the people who I didn’t even like that much who were pushing me away. They were doing the same thing to both of us, and I should be pissed about it! (I still am, even know people change, it was still a shitty thing to do)

My senior year I finally put myself first and realized that having bad friends was worse than being alone. And I might as well be alone on my terms. I went to homecoming and prom by myself, I wore my own weird clothes and danced by myself just to have fun. I realized that going with those people had made me have less fun, because they hardly wanted to dance to the music if they didn’t know the song. I decided I was going to have fun and be my own person.

The only people I had who were friends were the older people at the game shop I went to. They were kind and patient with me when I didn’t know all the rules, and I’ve since lost touch with them but everyday I’m thankful that I had them in my life. Thank you for taking care of this weird teenager who was too loud and too pushy, and who you guided anyway! Thank you for humoring me!

And then I did find lasting friends. I graduated high school and found a group of amazing, nerdy, goofy people who I clicked with. We play D&D together, we eat together often, we share our stories, we talk and we laugh, we have inside jokes.

As I’ve gotten older I know I still have those moments. Even with my closest friends, I have doubts and anxieties about if they actually like me, if I’m a good and kind enough person to be able to sustain a friendship. Sometimes I think maybe I’m better off alone, because then any hurt I cause will only be me. I’ve never had friends before, I don’t know anything! Sometimes I think I’m too full of hurt to do anything but hurt. But I don’t trust those thoughts! My brain lies to me all the time! Those terrible twisted feelings never come from me, they come from a me that doesn’t know anything but pain and sorrow. I’m an entirely different person when the depression hits, and I’ve learned enough not to trust how I feel in those moments.

I know that I’m trying and my friends know it too. I’m not purposefully mean, I make amends when I make mistakes, which is all you can do because everyone makes mistakes. And I think about how much sadder my life would be without my support network. I would be miserable! Yeah I can do it alone, but I don’t want to! Doing it alone sucks! I love my friends! I don’t want to let them go, and they want me around. If my friends didn’t want me around, they’d tell me to pack it. Yet I’ve continued making friends, I find fun and weird people everywhere!

Fuck it, I’m gonna be me as much as I can! Life is terrible when you’re pretending to be someone else. And I’ve been lucky enough to find space irl where I can be me. If you can’t do that in person, go online, find community anywhere you can get it. I know I learned a lot from lurking online in high school.

My friends love me even though I have flaws, and I love them even though they have flaws. Including the anxiety and self doubt! Loving with flaws is human. Confidence is your armor against that self doubt. Even if it’s fake! Say fuck it and love your life, love yourself! The world is beautiful! Life is beautiful in those small moments laughing, in talking, in smiling.

Yes this is optimistic positivity! Because pessimism made me sad and being sad does not make you want to live! And I want to live. I made the choice once to live as much as I can. God’s tried to kill me twice and he has failed so far, so I will dance through life laughing.

I can still be depressed and I can still laugh! I can be lonely sometimes and still have friends! I can know that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel if I smile and greet the darkness as my friend.

On Isolation

[azzifudd]

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?” 

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips. 

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word. 

“Oh, where in Minnesota?” 

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.” 

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.” 

“You’ve heard of it?” 

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.” 

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed. 

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster. 

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty. 

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.” 

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.” 

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands. 

“Please, please, please?” 

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife. 

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.” 

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.” 

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel. 

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky. 

“Paige? Are you okay?” 

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!” 

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?” 

“You wanted to.” 

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top. 

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin. 

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.” 

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe. 

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands. 

//

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?” 

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world. 

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name. 

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.” 

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again. 

“Oh, babe. What happened?” 

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself. 

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her. 

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight. 

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches. 

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible. 

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco. 

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside. 

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched. 

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time. 

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in. 

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots. 

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses. 

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once. 

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her. 

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.” 

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin. 

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her. 

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi. 

“You wanna?” 

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt. 

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows. 

“Go ahead.” 

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?” 

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales. 

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs. 

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.” 

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers. 

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy. 

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again. 

//

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!” 

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room. 

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?” 

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat. 

“Of course.” 

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously. 

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.” 

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth. 

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face. 

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country. 

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before. 

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi. 

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply. 

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.” 

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Okay!” 

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up. 

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it. 

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box. 

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.” 

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart. 

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.” 

//

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game. 

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug. 

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try. 

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team. 

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes. 

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest. 

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.” 

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge. 

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her. 

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.” 

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely. 

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate. 

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her. 

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes. 

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.” 

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here. 

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige. 

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes. 

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.” 

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.” 

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep. 

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face. 

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee. 

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows. 

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.  

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her. 

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

//

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!” 

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.” 

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years. 

“Azzi-” 

“Paige-” 

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes. 

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out. 

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.” 

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.” 

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.” 

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her. 

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back. 

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere. 

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers. 

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena. 

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her. 

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?” 

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.” 

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments. 

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.  

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most. 

“What do you want, Paige?” 

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach. 

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.” 

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige. 

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls. 

“I-” 

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media. 

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away. 

//

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!” 

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy. 

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court. 

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down. 

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.” 

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them. 

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide. 

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. 

[cjlouwho]

Truly Madly Deeply

You guys voted on this poll and chose Truly Madly Deeply as the song to be featured in my little fic. Enjoy!

tw: blood, stabbing, near death experience

If you had asked Tommy what his plans were for 9:32pm on a Thursday, he would not say, “Placing pressure on my ex-boyfriend’s stab wound,” but that’s exactly what he was doing.

The night hadn’t started so dramatically. He had gone to the bar for karaoke trivia, just like he had plenty of times before. Right as it was about to start, he glanced over to see Buck staring at him, mouth agape.

Buck hurried out of the bar after that and, before Tommy could even register what he was doing, he was following behind him.

“I didn’t think you’d b- be here,” Buck explained, the conversation irrelevant to Tommy at the moment. “You changed your schedule and I- I thought you’d be working tonight.”

“I switched with someone for a couple weeks,” Tommy replied, pressing down harder on the wound, feeling Buck’s blood under his hand.

“Oh- Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

I- I thought you didn’t wanna see m- me on a call or something.”

“No, that’s… No.”

“Oh,” Buck repeated. “Okay. I- still, I just wanted t- to get out a little. I- I’ve mostly been baking. I- when I saw you I was g- gonna leave. Try to go before you- you saw me.”

“I saw you,” Tommy muttered.

“I know. Y- You followed me.” Unconsciously, his hand moved up toward the wound. Tommy gently batted it away. “Why?”

“I thought,” Tommy paused. “I don’t know, just wanted to talk to you. Didn’t know you’d be busy getting mugged.”

Even through his labored breathing, with the gash in his abdomen still oozing blood no matter how much pressure Tommy put on it, Buck looked up at Tommy eagerly. “About what?”

“I don’t think that matters right now, Buck.”

“Why? B- Because of th- the stabbing?”

“Yes, Buck. Because of the stabbing.” In the distance, Tommy began to register the familiar tune of an older song. He thought it had been coming from the bar at first, but now he knew it wasn’t. “Why is this damn song playing again?” he asked as it started over. “And where the hell is it coming from?”

“Th- The guy dropped his phone. It st- started playing,” Buck informed him, hand shakily pointing across the alley toward the phone on the ground. “Must b- be on repeat.”

A small gush of blood seeped out between Tommy’s fingers. “I can’t reach it to turn it off.”

“I don’t mind it,” Buck assured him, wincing as a wave of pain hit. “I- It’s fitting, don’t ya think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Truly Madly Deeply,” Buck mumbled, eyebrows raised. “I- I’d stand with you on a mountain.”

Tommy sighed. “Okay.”

“Bathe with you in the sea.”

“Buck.”

“Not sure I- I wanna lay like this forever.” His words began to slur about halfway through and, as he finished the sentence, his head lolled to the side, eyes closing.

“Evan!” Tommy yelled, bringing one hand to his face to tap at his cheek. “You gotta stay awake for me, Evan!” he alerted, getting right up in Buck’s face. “Eyes open. Talk to me.”

Buck’s eyes popped back open and he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Looks like y- you were wrong,” he said, swallowing down a familiar metallic taste.

“That’s nothing new,” Tommy replied. “But what about this time?”

“You… You will get t- to be my last.”

“Stop it. You- You’re not dying, Evan.” He groaned, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he looked out toward the road. “Where’s the damn ambulance?!”

“It- It’s only been a few… few minutes.”

With one hand still on Buck, Tommy checked the time on his watch. Buck was right, Tommy had only hung up the phone maybe five minutes ago. It had felt like an hour.

“You know what I- I think?” Buck asked, raising a hand to poke at Tommy’s shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“I think you- you’re scared.”

“You’re delirious,” Tommy

Buck shook his head. “No, I- I’m lirious,” he replied, then scrunched his face up in confusion. “You know what I m- mean. You’re scared, Tommy. Scared o- of being loved. Scared of c- committing to s- something r-” his words broke off as he began to cough. He could feel something wet on his chin. Was sure it wasn’t just spit. “Real,” he finished once the coughing died down. He could hear his own breathing now, wheezy and stunted. That didn’t stop him. “You- I don’t think you really w- wanted to go that night. I- I know I screwed up but w- we could have fixed it.”

“Can we stop talking about this, please?” Tommy was willing to beg, if necessary. Tonight had been about trying to forget all his failures as a human. He was not prepared to be thrown right into each and every conversation he spent most of his life running away from. Especially not when he was trying to prevent his ex from bleeding out.

“You said t- to stay awake,” Buck reminded him. “Need t- to talk to stay… stay awake.”

“Well, choose a different topic. A funner one. One that doesn’t involve me.”

Buck rolled his eyes, moaning a bit. “Eddie is l- leaving.”

“Yeah? For good or for awhile?”

“Good. Texas. Christopher.”

“That’s good,” Tommy said. “For him. Sorry for you though.”

“It’s… S’okay. He- He’s running to- towards something, ya know? Needs t- to be there.”

“I know,” Tommy agreed. “Still, sucks when a friend leaves.”

“Mm,” Buck hummed. “Sucks more when th- the person you love le- leaves.”

Tommy sighed, “Evan.”

“I n- never said I was talking about…” he voiced trailed off as he sucked in a wheezy breath, “about you. Very pre- presumptuous." He managed a weak smirk in Tommy’s direction. “I w- was talking about, um, that guy f- from that bas- basketball team that, that you like who… he’s retiring this year, I think.”

“Sounds like you two were very close,” Tommy deadpanned. “Sorry for your loss.”

“Th- Thank you.” He blinked up at Tommy, running his tongue over his lips. They suddenly felt so dry. “Just wish- wish you would b- be honest… honest with me before,” he stopped, each breath a little harder to take than the last. “I’m gonna die, Tommy.”

“You are not dying.” The words came out like a demand. He stared into Buck’s eyes, his blood-soaked hands maintaining their pressure. “But I tell you what. After you get all fixed up, if you remember anything from tonight, we’ll talk,” Tommy promised. “I will tell you why I- why I left. Because you’re right, Evan. I’m scared. I’m terrified. You… You scare me. I’ve never felt for anyone th- the way I feel for you.”

“Love.” It wasn’t a question. “You love me.”

Tommy sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Yes, I do.”

A tiny smile rose on Buck’s face. “Truly madly deeply?” he whispered, voice becoming weaker by the second.

Tommy huffed out a laugh, the song repeating yet again. He nodded. “Truly madly deeply.”

Buck’s breathing slowed, eyelids drooping. “Tommy?”

“Mhm?”

“I… It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Tommy became laser focused, pressing down even harder on Buck’s wound, “Evan, you hang on, you hear me? I hear the sirens now. They’re close, Evan!”

“I’m,” Buck’s eyes began to roll back in his head, “I’m cold,” he muttered before the whole world went dark.

*****

Buck woke up to a hospital room full of family and friends.

But all he noticed was one very important person was not there.

“Where… Where’s Tommy?” he asked Maddie with pleading eyes as she held onto his hand. His heart began to race, wondering if it was a dream, or a hallucination. Maybe Tommy had never been there at all. Maybe-

“Calm down,” Maddie instructed, rubbing her thumb over his palm. “He’d been here for three nights, Buck. We finally got him to go home for a bit. Shower, change, try to sleep. He’ll be back later.”

His eyes scanned the room. “I- I need my phone.”

“Right now?” Maddie questioned, glancing around at the other very confused visitors.

“Yes. Yes, right now.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got it.” She picked up the bag beside her chair, digging in it briefly before pulling out Buck’s phone.

“He might not answer,” she said, handing it over to him. “He’s probably resting.”

Buck was too busy typing out a text to listen. His words were simple.

Truly Madly Deeply.

The text bubble was only on his screen for a couple of seconds before a reply came through.

I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

[kdinjenzen]

I’ve complained about this before but I’ve spent the last 8 years being explained how “the gaming industry” works by people on social media.

I’ve worked in gaming for 20 years.

Never once in the first 12 did anyone ever correct me, doubt me, or speak to me like I was an idiot about how “gaming actually works”

But the last 8? Every fucking chance someone gets they will talk to me like I have no idea wtf I’m talking about when it comes to this stuff.

I made a half silly half serious post on social media, immediately got POUNDS of shit thrown my way, so I just posted afterward:

“Please do not explain the gaming industry to me.

I've worked in it for 20 years.

And I've worked on the games or with the companies you're talking about.”

And then the comments suddenly became louder and more transphobic.

[darkisnotevil]

Oh god

I’ve talked before about how academia feeds the treatment pipeline, and how vital government funding is for that research. “Taking a pause” is like tapping the brakes on a busy highway, it eventually causes a massive traffic jam. If we have a year, or two, or four, without federal funding for academic research, I cannot express how many labs and institutes and even universities will be forced to close their doors or turn away from research. A “pause” will delay research progress by years, and in the meantime, people will suffer and die. I’m pretty sure this is a budgetary issue and this EO won’t stand, but it indicates a callousness to one of our most vulnerable populations that surprises no one but continues to disappoint.

And in the next election, if someone starts to tell me that Democrats and Republicans are the same, I’m gonna start asking if anyone they love has cancer.

Apparently, Aaron Fullerton's tweet wasn't even satire. Trump supporters actually, literally think like that.

[beardedjoel]

i cannot stress enough that prompt #15 on the first list is SOOOO smother coded, imagine on a hot summer night joel and blossom are up late and just yapping and looking up at the stars (blossom would def make a joke about how one of the constellations reminds her of joel) and then one thing after another he's fucking her raw and deep into the ground, when they're done blossom has grass stains on her dress or something (ALSO JULIE CONGRATS ON 5K YOU FUCKING DESERVE ILY)

thank you so much for sending this in and the kind words bby! beyond appreciate your patience from sending this in months ago 🤧 sorry for the delay! i had so so much fun writing this one though hehe because it really was very smother coded and it felt so natural for them. stargazing really does feel like something they'd do together often, especially after the way it goes for them here!

sea of stars — joel x f!reader

request: "stargazing that turns into sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! could be read as a standalone daddy joel if you really wanted to but it is rather smother-y and written with them in mind 😋

wc: 2.9k

warnings: dry (wet?) humping, piv, dirty talk, ddlg / daddy dom!joel + sub!reader

Sticky, thick air clings close to your skin, your hopes of beating the late night heat of summer by opening all the windows dashed as the house remains a stuffy, sweltering prison. You wished for air flow more than anything, a fan, and Joel promised he would do his best to find a working one for the two of you someday. You knew it was unlikely to ever materialize, but Joel would do his damndest to never give up on something that you’d so sweetly asked for.

“Can’t sleep, daddy,” you murmur, rubbing your burning, tired eyes and rolling over to face him. Despite the heat, your naked body gravitates towards him, your longing for him unable to be quelled by it and the layer of sweat that seems to permanently live on your skin. His arms find you, bringing you close, clammy limbs tangling together but neither of you caring, lethargic in your movements.

“I know, sweetheart. ‘M sorry,” he replies, stroking your hair soothingly. “It’s jus’ a heatwave, darlin’, these usually only last a few days. Should be out of it soon.”

You nod, still feeling pitiful, sighing and rolling onto your back as Joel’s arms retract, the both of you trying to cool off again. After a few silent beats, Joel sits up in bed, watching you blink listlessly at the ceiling.

“Alright, up. I’ve got an idea,” he says.

You clamber off the mattress half in a daze and he hands you a ball of thin fabric - your nightgown that had been discarded before you got in bed. Sheer and lovely and see through, you pull it over your head, the material thankfully feather light on your skin. Joel feels better knowing you’re covered up for what he has planned. It’s odd, how deep the possession runs, knowing that nobody else is within miles of this place, but still feeling that pull to keep you as only his to see. It didn’t hurt that you always looked almost too alluring in the clothing he picked out for you.

After tugging on a pair of briefs, Joel leads you outside, snatching a throw from the back of the couch as you pass. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you step past the threshold, the cooler air sweeter than anything as it caresses your skin. 

“Few degrees makes all the difference, don’t it?” Joel says, and you quickly agree with a happy little hum. His hand on the small of your back, he guides you away from the cabin, stopping where a clearing of trees reveals the night sky to you, the moon only a tiny sliver shimmering in the distance, hardly providing any light. You strain your eyes slightly, comforted by the warmth radiating off of Joel reminding you he’s right there.

“Lay down,” he tells you, and you pause, wondering if he can see your face scrunched up in confusion as both of your eyes still adjust to the darkness. “Jus’ trust me,” he adds on at your hesitation, kissing the side of your head.

You lay down on your back, the cool grass beneath you making you smile as goosebumps briefly prickle your skin. You’d started to lose hope that it was possible to find relief in heat like this. Folding your hands over your stomach, you see Joel kneeling down next to you, hear him groan quietly as his knees crack on the way.

“Now tell me what you see, honey,” Joel says, settling next to you.

The obvious answer is right above you, twinkling dots littering the black sky. Their serene beauty transfixes you as you simply mutter, “Stars.”

“Mhm,” Joel confirms, propped up on his elbow to face you. “Pretty, ain’t they?” His fingers tease along your scalp, brushing backwards in rhythmic, soothing strokes. Lulled by his touch, you simply nod, letting the sea of stars swim in front of your eyes.

“You know any constellations?” he asks, laying onto his back to gaze at the sky with you.

“Mm, not really. Can you teach me?”

“Don’t know very many myself.” He pauses, scanning the sky for a few quiet moments. “Well I know that one there. ‘S the big dipper, but everyone knows it. Y’see the handle? An’ the big spoon part too?”

Joel’s hand envelops yours, guiding it to point towards the constellation. You squint, focusing your eyes to try and see it, but shake your head, making a contemplative little noise. “Kind of,” you say, twisting your lips to the side. “Wait… yeah, I see it, daddy! Right there…” You move your hand with his in a line, showing that you see the handle.

“You got it, princess.”

Both of your hands fall to the side, staying interlinked as you quietly observe the beauty floating above you, suspended in the clear sky. You’ve completely forgotten about the heat, the restlessness that had plagued you these last few hours. The air stays cool enough to take the edge off, your skin finally free from that grimy layer of sweat it seemed to carry at all hours during this heat wave.

“What’s that one?” you ask, finger pointing high into the night sky.

“I- I don’t know if that is one, darlin’,” Joel replies amusedly, trying to follow your eyeline. “We’ll get you a book on it, maybe, you’ll be a pro in no time.”

You give a bright smile at his offer while trying to make out more shapes in the twinkling expanse above. “What about that one?” you ask impatiently, pointing again. “It kind of looks like a face, maybe. Maybe it’s you,” you turn your head, giving him a cheeky grin as you laugh.

“Silly girl,” Joel chides you with a chuckle, reaching over to pinch your cheek for the teasing. “You know that daddy doesn’t know everything, right? Despite what it may seem.”

You giggle quietly, shaking your head. “You do know everything, daddy. Isn’t that one of the rules?”

“Knowin’ best f’you and knowin’ everything are very different, blossom,” he says playfully. “An’ especially when it comes to this… constellation stuff, I ain’t ever thought to learn them before, really. Sometimes it’s nice to just… look at ‘em. Thas’ been my philosophy, at least.”

“It is nice…” you mutter dazedly, feeling lulled by the serenity of the sky, the quiet noises of the forest surrounding you, the rustle of a soft but gladly received breeze blowing by. 

“Feelin’ better?” Joel asks, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Mhm. Much better,” you reply, sounding more subdued. The heat had made it harder to keep your composure throughout the last few days, leaving you on edge and worried you would inadvertently snap at Joel, resulting in a punishment. It had been a while since he’d had to dole one out, but the memories of them alone makes your body feel flush with need.

You did hate getting them, yet craved the heated attention from him that came with it. You curl a little closer to him at the thought, rubbing your thighs together.

“I can cuddle you again, daddy,” you tell him, making Joel’s chest vibrate with a tiny chuckle.

“You didn’t want to cuddle your old man before?” You can practically hear the daring raise of his brows in his voice.

“Too hot,” you insist innocently, tucking your face near Joel’s armpit and poking him in the side. He makes a noise of agreement as he playfully swats you away. You’d noticed the same from him during this heatwave - the way his body wanted to gravitate towards yours as usual, but even your insatiable Joel had found it too stiflingly hot to give you what you both desired as often as normal.

Now, however…

His energy shifts, hand slithering down your back, making goosebumps crop up as you shiver. Even less than a few days without his touch has your nerves frazzled the second his hands are on you again, greedily making their way down to your ass, squeezing hard at the plush skin there.

A needy growl pulls up from Joel’s throat, leaning forward to press his lips to your ear, wrapping them around your ear lobe and suckling. Another wave of goosebumps trails over your entire body, a helpless cry whimpered out. 

“Ain’t had enough of you these last few days…” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, raspy and heated. Your breath catches and you clench between your legs, your core moving towards his without thought, throwing a leg over his. His hand tightens on your ass, yanking you closer until you can feel the hard shape of his cock press into you. The thin fabric of both of your clothing does little to hinder either of you, and you start rolling your hips against him, whining.

“Poor baby is needy without her daddy filling her up constantly, isn’t she?” Joel taunts, his other arm slipping underneath you to grab your other ass cheek, now starting a steady, faster rhythm against him.

“Daddy…” you manage to whine breathlessly, your mind only focused on the feeling between the two of you, brain going fuzzy with need. He seems to grow harder, his cock desperate to break the confines of his clothing, to wear down the fabric of your dress with the way he’s moving you in earnest now. You gush between your legs, built up tension from the last few days that hadn’t been sated well enough coming back in full force. 

The fabric of your dress pressed further between your legs starts to grow damp, catching on your poor clit and sending little waves of pleasure buzzing through you. You moan quietly, only forlorn little breaths that Joel eats up, fueling him to keep forcing you to rut into him.

“I w-want -” you try to speak, but the bulge in Joel’s briefs reaches deeper between your thighs, your entire body twitching. 

His lips find your earlobe again, biting gently before turning to your neck and nibbling there. “What does my blossom need, hm? Use your words…”

You whine in response, thrusting inward at the same time Joel urges your hips forward, moaning louder. You pant, angling yourself to get off even easier on him, feeling an obscene amount of moisture seeping onto your dress, soft squelches filling the air as it leaks onto Joel’s briefs, too.

“Christ, baby, my little girl is a needy fuckin’ thing isn’t she,” Joel punches out in disbelief, losing control, his hips twitching harder into yours, chasing his pleasure.

“I-Inside…” you manage to choke out.

Joel tsks. “Not ‘till you give me one,” he demands. You immediately double down on the rocking of your hips, letting yourself get lost in it until your body is burning, so close to reaching that bliss. His cock leaks for you, adding to the wetness sticking to the clothing between you, sweat forming on your brow and neck and everywhere else now, too.

The climax hits you in a hurried burst, leaving just as quickly, not the release you’d been hoping for. You groan in frustration as you come down, clinging to Joel’s sweaty chest.

“Pl-please, daddy. I’ll do anything…” You beg him, your skin prickling and hot with frustration, the heat slowly making you irritable again.

“Anythin’? Ain’t no different from any other day, princess.” He teases, mocking you with that drip of condescension he does so well. It only riles you up further, and you move to untangle yourself from him to move into the position you know will give you the relief you need from him. Before you can get on your hands and knees, Joel grabs you by the waist, pulling you into where he still lays, your body fumbling into his solid chest as it clunks back to the ground. His lips press to your ear, your body tight to his as one arm holds you by the torso, the other near your neck. “Nuh-uh. You know you don’t get to decide how I take you. That ain’t how this works,” he grits out, ruthless.

Whimpering, that odd mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins, you smirk, struggling slightly in his hold to egg him on, your ass wriggling into his crotch. Joel clocks it immediately, moving to reach between you and tug down his briefs and tear your dress off where it already barely covers your ass.

“Gonna make me crazy, bein’ a little brat like that, baby. We both know that ain’t you. She’s a good girl. Right?” He presses his cock between your thighs, forcing it through to your entrance, teasing you when you remain silent. “Right?! Say it, sweetheart. Tell daddy you aren’t a brat.”

“I-I’m not…” Just the tip of his cock presses inward and you grit your teeth, holding back the pathetic, desperate begging you really want to spit out. “I’m not a brat, daddy, I promise. I just -”

“You need daddy’s cock, I know.” He interrupts you with a press inward of his hips at his words, sinking the thick length of himself inside of you. You squeal, the noise turning to a moan of relief as he slides in easily, your slickness already coating everything, including the way it’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“What are you then, if you ain’t a brat?” Joel sits perfectly still, his well practiced restraint palpable between the two of you. You want him to move, you need him to move, to fill that void you’d been missing for the last few days.

“I’m a g-good girl. I am… I am… I-I’m good, see?” You keep perfectly still with Joel for a long beat, letting him make the final call on whether or not you’ve been good enough. One of your hands grasps tightly into the grass to pour out your pent up frustration, nails digging into the earth.

Joel cranes his neck to kiss the side of your head. “That’s right. Thank you, blossom. Good girls get a reward from their daddy, too.”

You nod eagerly, and in a flash Joel’s body is on top of yours, forcing his cock to plunge deeper inside of you as you lay belly down. He yanks on your hips, bringing them upwards and begins to thrust steadily and surely into you. Your g-spot immediately feels the change in angle as he starts to press on it, your pussy pulsing around him, still sensitive from the last climax.

“Y-yes, yes…” you groan out, the top half of your torso still pressed into the ground going deeper into the grass with each bounce of your body on Joel’s thrusts. He smacks your ass and you yelp happily, heat radiating from there into pleasure at your core when he does it again.

“S-shit… baby, come for me. Want to hear you, want to feel you. Daddy a-ain’t gonna last…”

Something about his desperation pulls your insides taut, makes you clench harder around him. His hand reaches to your clit, rubbing urgently as he pounds into you. “Come, f-fuck, come, blossom. Now.”

His command, always your bidding, follows that same pattern now, sending you toppling over the edge. You come hard, your legs trembling, sinking lower to the ground so that you’re almost flat, your knees unable to hold you up. The pure abyss of pleasure rocks through you for those few, perfect moments as Joel pants above you as he pistons his hips faster. He suddenly yanks himself out of you, leaving you empty and trembling. You hear the squelch of your slickness in his hand, pumping his cock a few times before the hot splattering of his cum hits your back, soaking through your dress.

Joel sighs, collapsing next to you on his back, tucking himself back inside his briefs. “S-sorry, baby. I needed that too, I guess,” he says, sounding more sheepish than usual.

“I liked it,” you tease him, genuine in your words. You roll to your side, sitting up slightly and glancing down at your dress with a frown. Through the dark, your eyes more well adjusted now, you can see the stain smeared across the front of it. It isn’t the first time that grass stains have invaded your wardrobe from a passionate moment like this, but you like your dresses pristine for Joel, always worried about him getting it out for you. “My dress…” you lament.

Joel’s lips pull up into a smirk. “Afraid the back ain’t any better.”

You giggle, flustered and still shy after all this time at the thought of what you and Joel do together after the moment passes. “You made a mess this time, daddy.”

His lips find yours, pressing a deep kiss to them. “Can’t help that it looks good on you. You want to go change?”

“Too tired now. Want to sleep.” You shake your head, blinking at the night sky again, studying the stars with heavier lids now. The cooler outside air, despite your recent activities making you sweat all over again, starts to dry it quickly, leaving you pleasantly comfortable and sated. Joel’s plan seemed to work wonders, this setup much better than it had been trying to fight for sleep inside the stuffy house. Your limbs feel lazy and heavy, body still humming from your climax, every part of you comforted when Joel moves to hold you.

He smiles softly, placated to see you so at ease now. Joel reaches for the throw blanket, unraveling it and setting it at the ready for when you inevitably start to get chilly in your sleep. 

“You sleep then, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

[eclipixels]

Our past?

Sylus x Reader

Content: After discovering your past life with Sylus and his promise to restore your memories, you find yourself eager to hear the stories of your past from him.

Warnings: : slight angst if you squint your eyes

[2,118 words]

A/N: Sylus’s myth has been weighing on my mind, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. Forbidden love?? Like?? Ugh. I had to write something to make it hurt less :’).

      After discovering the truth about your past life, a storm of emotions had raged within you. Anger, betrayal, disbelief. How could Sylus have kept something so monumental from you? How could he have known and simply chosen not to tell you? The argument that followed had been fierce, but in the end, he relented, promising to restore your lost memories tomorrow morning. Now, the fire had dimmed, replaced by a quiet restlessness you couldn't shake.

      “Won’t you at least come to bed, darling?” Sylus murmured, his voice softer than usual, his sharp eyes now wide and pleading. You exhaled, exasperated yet unable to deny him. With a tired sigh, you crawled over, settling on top of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.

      "Sylus?"

      "Hm?"

      "Tell me about our past," you whispered. He had promised to return your memories tomorrow, but waiting felt unbearable. The unknown loomed too heavily over you, making it impossible to sleep.

      He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Impatient, aren’t you? Can’t even wait until tomorrow?"

      "You’re one to talk about being greedy," you huffed, shifting slightly against him.

      “I know,” he admitted, the grin that spread across his lips filled with something more than amusement, something nostalgic, as if the weight of the past he had once tried to forget was now something he wanted to remember.

      He studied you for a moment before continuing, “Did you know you were a princess, princess?” His smirk widened at his own joke, reveling in the play on words.

      You rolled your eyes, but your curiosity overpowered your exasperation. "A princess?"

      "Ivory City," he said, watching for recognition in your gaze. "They accused you of being a sorcerror because you took pity and sympathy on my kind, so they cast you out."

      "How primitive," you muttered, unimpressed by the cruelty of a kingdom you barely remembered.

      "Indeed," he agreed, his tone laced with a quiet sort of amusement. "They feared what they couldn't understand."

      A brief silence stretched between you before he added, “You also gave me my name, but I already told you that.”

      You sighed, tilting your head slightly. "You still haven’t taught me how to pronounce your actual name." It was something you had discovered earlier, before the argument, before the flood of fragmented memories revealed pieces of his dragon life with you in Philos.

      Sylus hummed, clearly unbothered by the notion. “It’s irrelevant,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles against your back. “I like your version of my name better. Your claim on me.” His grin returned, sharper now, something possessive glinting behind his eyes. A name you gave him that he’s used ever since. Your lips parted slightly, heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words. You had claimed him once before, long ago, in another life. And now, in this one, you were beginning to do it all over again.

      Sylus smirked, his voice dropping into something teasing. “Did you also know that once, back when we still held nothing but disdain for each other, I wrapped my hand around your throat, and you—” He let out a short laugh, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You moaned.”

      You jolted upright, eyes wide. “I did what?!” you shrieked, horrified.

      His laughter only deepened, rich and unbothered. “It was certainly… unique,” he mused, tilting his head as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I’ve threatened plenty of people before, but never had anyone react quite like that.”

      Heat flared across your face as you groaned, burying yourself against his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

      “No, you don’t,” he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss against the top of your head.

      A moment of silence passed, the air between you settling into something softer, something steeped in nostalgia. “Most nights,” Sylus murmured, “we spent our time together under the moonlight.”

      You closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you through the fragments of a past you desperately wished to reclaim. “I can’t wait to get my memories back,” you hummed. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you all over again.”

      His fingers curled gently around your waist, holding you close. “There were times,” he continued, voice quieter now, “when you would see my true form, and I expected you to be afraid. I thought you’d run, that you’d look at me like I was a monster.” He paused, as if caught in the memory. “But you didn’t. Instead, you traced your much smaller hand over my scales and horns. You—” He swallowed. “You still loved me.”

      “How couldn’t I?” you whispered, pressing closer.

      Sylus exhaled, the tension in his body unraveling. “Back then, I didn’t know what love was,” he admitted. “You introduced me to that.”

      You lifted your head slightly, gazing up at him. “Really?”

      His lips curled into something almost reverent, something achingly fond. “Really.

      “That’s beautiful,” you murmured, voice soft with drowsiness.

      Sylus smiled faintly, fingers tracing idle patterns against your waist and thighs. “My favorite memory might be when I took you to that flower field,” he mused, pausing expectantly for your response.

      But you said nothing. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to glance down at you.

“Kitten, are you asleep?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing. A quiet snore escaped you. You weren’t asleep, but he didn’t have to know that.

      His chest rose and fell with a slow inhale before he continued anyway, his voice dipping into something raw.

      “The reason why…” he started, then hesitated. For once, the words didn’t come so easily. “The reason why I withheld these memories and this information from you was because I knew it would break you.”

      A heavy silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

      “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that we have half of our souls in each other.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin. That much, you had already discovered. The truth that the two of you were irreversibly connected, bound by something ancient and inescapable.

      His next words came quieter, almost as if he didn’t want to admit them out loud. “But I just… I couldn’t let you know that we were destined for death.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “It was greedy of me. I wanted you all to myself, even if it meant keeping the truth from you. But the curse of a dragon’s beloved is to die. And you—” His voice wavered, the weight of his confession nearly unbearable. “You were destined to kill me, as my archenemy.”

      His breath hitched, and he let his eyes fall shut. “I didn’t want you to know that,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I realized… it’s not just my story. It’s yours too. And you deserve to know.”

      The words hung in the air between you, fragile and aching. His throat worked as he tried to steady himself, but his voice still cracked, betraying the turmoil he had tried so hard to suppress. Still, you didn’t move, didn’t respond. But your fingers twitched ever so slightly against his chest.

      You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the warm tears spilled onto Sylus’s chest. They fell silently, one after another, pooling against his skin like echoes of a grief you weren’t prepared to feel.

      “Sweetheart?” Sylus called out, his voice laced with concern. His arms tightened slightly around you. “Are you alright?”

      “It hurts,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. “Why was our story so sad?”

      He exhaled, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I don’t know, my love,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”

      A shuddering breath left you as you stared at the space between you, the past pressing in on your chest like an unbearable weight. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

      Sylus stilled for a moment before letting out a small, knowing sigh. He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to your lashes. “Sweetie, that’s all in the past for a reason,” he murmured. “None of that destiny, archnemesis, dragons-destroying-cities, royalty-and-war bullshit matters here.” He smirked slightly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe the part about our souls being tied for eternity, but I’m not complaining about that part.”

      You sniffled, staring up at him with a wobbly frown.

      “Oh, and wanderers,” he added, scowling. “That part I do complain about.”

      You huffed a small laugh despite yourself, but your expression quickly turned serious again. “You didn’t answer my question, though,” you said, eyes searching his. “Did I hurt you?”

      Sylus hesitated. “Well…”

      “Stop it. Just tell me.”

      A sigh, followed by a lopsided, almost sheepish grin. “Maybe you stabbed me.”

      Your mouth fell open. “Maybe?”

      “But it wasn’t entirely on purpose,” he continued hastily. “Not out of your own volition. In fact, you didn’t want to kill me at all. That’s why you chose to tie our souls together instead.” He pulled your leg up to wrap around him tighter. “You chose to save me instead of killing me. Our souls became bound, incapable of betraying each other.”

      “Incapable of betraying each other?” you echoed, brows furrowing before your expression morphed into something accusatory. “Oh, really? Then what about that time you ate my sandwich I was saving for later?”

      Sylus blinked. “Uh—”

      “Actually, no. You didn’t even eat it yourself,” you fumed. “You gave it to Mephisto. A mechanical bird. I don’t even know if he can digest organic material!”

      “So feisty,” Sylus murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Lifetimes of love, and yet, you’re still a brat.”

      “Hey!” You gasped, feigning offense, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

      He only chuckled, shaking his head. Then, his expression turned mischievous as he pointed a finger at you accusingly. “But, you do realize—I can never die unless you’re the one who kills me.”

      You smirked, crossing your arms. “Oh, I was so smart for doing that.”

      Sylus let out a full-bodied laugh, the sound warm and rich with something inexplicably fond.

      “What?” You tilted your head, watching the way his grin widened.

      “Isn’t it crazy?” he said, voice quieter now, as if he was still wrapping his mind around it himself. “Lifetimes of love… You’ve always been my girl.”

      Something about the way he said it made your chest ache in the most bittersweet way. This love of yours, it felt like it was something you’re not allowed to have. You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I still can’t believe you’re a dragon.”

      “What?” He snorted. “You thought the horns were just for decoration?”

      You groaned sleepily. “In my defense, you don’t always make them visible.”

      Sylus smirked. “Would you like me to keep them out more often, then? Just for you?”

      “Sylus.” You whimpered, burying your face against him.

      His amusement faded as concern flickered across his features. “You’re still upset?”

      “I don’t want to kill you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

      Sylus exhaled, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines against your back. “Love,” he murmured, “like I said, you won’t. This is our timeline.”

      “But I want you in every timeline,” you confessed, curling closer, as if holding onto him tighter could somehow tether your souls together even more. “Every life.”

      Sylus stilled. His fingers stopped their tracing. His breath hitched just slightly. Then, with a heavy sigh, he picked up your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. His lips were warm, his touch reverent.

      “I…” He hesitated.

      Sylus never made promises lightly. He didn’t want to promise you something he couldn’t keep. But then, he thought about it. About how he had already overturned fate before. How he and you both had defied instinct, rewritten the path carved for each other. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t just want your soul. You didn’t just want his eye. You were both greedy, greedy creatures. You wanted to consume each other, bones and all. In love. In deep, all-consuming love.

      And maybe he could make that happen.

      He would need a powerful enough sorcerer. Someone who still wielded magic strong enough to rewrite the very laws of existence. He could find one. He would find one. He would make sure it was just you and him, forever. Not killing each other. Not dying. That would make you immortal, too.

      He could have you forever.

      Now, wasn’t that greedy?

      “I promise,” he finally whispered, sealing his vow with another kiss against your palm, not noticing the soft glow that wrapped itself around you both as you involuntarily resonated.

[wholoveseggs]

heyyyyy girllll, ik that you already wrote a series about a professor and student, but could you pleaseeeee make a one shot with a virgin reader🥹🥹🥹

Angel

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!vampire!Reader} Newly turned and overwhelmed, one hunger refuses to be ignored. You need guidance, and who better to teach you than Elijah Mikaelson?

♡♡ You didn't specify what kind of teacher.... so I took some creative libertiessss (DON'T BANG YOUR TEACHERS, OKAY?? NOT A WISE THING TO DO(EXCEPT IF THEY ARE A MIKAELSON))~ ♡♡

5k words {whoops} - Warnings: smuutttt, vampire!reader, virgin!reader, first time, a brief Hayley cameo, blood drinking, riding, reader knows what she wants, Elijah talking you through it, teaching, oral sex (f!receiving), feeding during sex, possessive but tender Elijah && a pet name...

"So, you're just going to waltz in and ask him?" Hayley asked, shocked at how blunt you were being.

"Well, yeah," you replied nonchalantly. "How else am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," she said, "maybe try being more subtle?"

Hayley looked at you like you'd lost your mind, but you just shrugged, unbothered. The constant hum of your heightened emotions had been driving you insane for days. Hunger, anger, lust. Mostly lust. And no matter how much you tried to control it, you couldn’t shake the gnawing, primal need clawing at you from the inside out.

"Subtlety is overrated," you said, crossing your arms. "I don’t think Elijah would appreciate me batting my lashes and giggling like a schoolgirl. He values directness."

"Yeah, but there's direct, and then there's direct," Hayley shot back, looking equally horrified and intrigued. "I mean, do you even know if he's into you?"

You paused, considering. Elijah was your mentor; your teacher when it came to all things vampire. He was always so composed, so controlled, but there was something in the way he looked at you. He was always assessing, always holding himself back. You'd caught him staring once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking. And there was that one time he murmured something in that low, velvety voice of his about lust being a difficult thing for new vampires to control…

"I think he is," you said simply.

"Okay, but what if he says no?" Hayley pressed.

You smirked, enjoying her mild jealousy. "Then I’ll go take an ice bath and reevaluate my choices."

Hayley groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is the most unhinged plan I’ve ever heard. And I've lived in this house with Klaus."

"Wish me luck," you said with a wink before striding down the hall toward Elijah’s study.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stopped outside his door, suddenly hyper aware of how fast your heart was racing. Vampire senses made everything feel more. More intense, more overwhelming. But there was no turning back now. You wanted this. No. You needed this.

Taking a breath, you knocked once before pushing the door open.

Elijah sat at his desk, a glass of bourbon in one hand, an old book in the other. He barely glanced up as he said, “I take it this is a social visit?”

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. “No, it’s not... well... actually...”

Finally, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours, curiosity flickering across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You exhaled sharply and walked toward him, each step deliberate. "I want you to teach me something new... Something important."

His brow arched. "What is it that you think you're lacking in your education?"

You stopped in front of his desk, trying not to focus on the way his shirt clung to his toned chest. "I don't need any more history lessons, or lectures on self-control. I know all of that."

"Oh really? You've been a vampire for less than a month, and already you know everything I could possibly teach you?" he asked, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not everything," you said, leaning forward to brace yourself on his desk. "I still have lots to learn and there's one lesson I'm hoping you can teach me, and I'd like you to start right now."

His eyes narrowed, darting to your lips for a brief moment before snapping back to yours. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

You swallowed, nerves clashing with the hunger and lust burning inside you. Then, with as much confidence as you could muster, you blurted it out.

"I want you to teach me how to have sex."

For the first time since you had met him, Elijah Mikaelson actually looked stunned. The glass in his hand halted halfway to his lips, eyes widening fractionally before his expression resumed its usual cool facade. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?"

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing as you replayed the words in your head, suddenly embarrassed. But no, you had decided, you would be direct.

"Before I was turned... I, uh, I didn't get a chance to, you know, lose my virginity. So, I don't know what I'm doing... And I'm worried if I just pick up a random guy, I might kill him..." You spoke quickly, already regretting opening your mouth. What was wrong with you?

"Are you propositioning me, my dear?"

Something like warm amusement flickered in his eyes, and you relaxed a little, straightening. You expected pity, the way Hayley had looked at you. Judgment. Anything but the glint in Elijah's eyes as they slowly raked down your body, gaze sharpening with interest as it darkened.

A giddy flutter rose in your chest, and you licked your lips.

"Yes."

Silence fell over the room as Elijah set his drink down and stood, walking slowly toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. When he finally stopped, his chest was nearly brushing yours, the proximity making your head spin.

"Tell me, why have you chosen me for this particular lesson?" he murmured, fingers reaching up to trace the line of your jaw.

A jolt of heat ran through you, and you tried to remember how to speak. "Well, you're, uh, a noble gentleman... I trust you."

He chuckled. "I try my best. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Um..." You trailed off, his fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Be honest, angel,"

"Because..." you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks. Angel? He just called you angel.

"Because... I think about you, all the time," you admitted. "Ever since I became a vampire. It's like every feeling is dialed up to eleven. Except my desire. It's a thousand times worse than that, and I can't make it stop. It's torture. And I know it's inappropriate, but..."

"It's not," Elijah interjected, his fingers sliding down the length of your throat. "We can't help what we want, can we?"

You shook your head.

"What is it that you want, my little vampire?"

You swallowed, your eyes flickering to his lips. "I want to kiss you."

His lips curved into a smirk, and then his mouth was on yours, firm but gentle. His lips moved slowly, expertly, and your entire body flooded with warmth, your legs suddenly unsteady. He felt so good. Smelled so good.

Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer. You had kissed boys before, but it was nothing like this. This was an out-of-body experience, like the whole world was melting away and there was only the two of you.

He moved away far too soon, and a small sound of protest left your lips.

"So eager," he said, tipping your chin up to look at him. "Is that all you want? A kiss?"

You shook your head, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping. "No."

He smiled, his hands moving down your waist to your hips, gripping lightly, pulling you flush against him. "Our bodies have an enhanced awareness of what they want, what they need." He paused, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat, then, so quietly it was almost inaudible,  "Humans have sex drives, but ours..."

"Are stronger," you finished in a raspy voice. "More Intense."

Elijah hummed. "Very."

"So, you'll teach me then?"

He chuckled softly, lifting his head to capture your lips in another slow, deep kiss. "Teaching isn't the word I would use,"

A blush spread from your chest to your cheeks. You nodded, wanting more than anything for him to tumble you into bed and show you all the things his thousand years had taught him. He was patient, though, and the way he was kissing you now was driving you mad.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you let out a soft gasp. Before you could blink, you were in his bedroom, him pressing your back into the mattress, his hands everywhere. His lips trailed down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to taste the soft skin.Your hands curling into his chest, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't rip my shirt," he murmured against your neck, and you giggled.

"Sorry,"

"You will be," he said, pulling back to give you a dark smile.

A thrill of anticipation ran through you, and you pushed him onto his back, climbing onto his lap, the heat between your legs throbbing with need. Your lips crashed together again, more frantic this time, more desperate. Teeth clashed, biting, nibbling, sucking. All the while, a heady ache grew between your thighs, and when he cupped your ass, pulling your hips flush against his, you could feel his own primal need straining against his trousers.

You moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, needing more. "Please, Elijah," you murmured, sighing at the soft kisses he began to trail along your throat. "I need you."

"Patience, angel,"

With a frustrated groan, you slumped against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His scent surrounded you. Aftershave, musk, something distinctly masculine and earthy. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Then you heard it, his blood, pumping steadily beneath his skin, calling to you. You wanted to sink your fangs into him, taste his hot blood coursing over your tongue.

You felt your vampire nature take over, veins protruding beneath your eyes, fangs extending. Instinct urged you forward, pressing soft kisses to his neck before nuzzling his warm skin, hunger gnawing inside your bones.

He chuckled at the gentle, kitten-like kisses you pressed to his neck, your fangs scratching his skin. He pulled your head away, urging your eyes to meet his as a glimmer of amusement danced in his. "So bloodthirsty,"

"C'mon, please." you whined, leaning in and kissing him deeply, trying to press your core against his bulge. You grunted, bucking your hips, starting a rhythm. Fuck he smelled so good, he felt so good, every fiber of your being yearning for his touch.

Your fangs brushed against his lower lip, drawing blood. He hissed, kissing you harder. His fingers tightened against the back of your head as he angled your face to give himself more access. You mewled as your hands clung to his chest, feeling his cock stiff against your stomach was doing terrible things to you.

"Look at me."

You obeyed instantly, his compulsion bringing you to a screeching halt. You whimpered, panting and needy. As his bloody lip healed, a single drop trickled down his chin, and you shivered, licking your lips as you followed the droplet's path with your eyes.

"Relax," he cooed, smirking as he wiped it away. "Don't you worry. I'm going to give you exactly what you want. But," he added in a darker tone, "only when I say."

Swallowing hard, you nodded, bracing your hands against his shoulders. "Okay,"

"Good girl,"

A rush of arousal shot through you at the praise, and a needy whine escaped your lips.

He smirked. "Oh, you like that? Being told what a good girl you are?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and his smirk widened. 

"Take your clothes off for me," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You quickly scrambled off his lap, flushed with heat as you stripped, pulling your dress over your head, watching Elijah watch you. His eyes tracked your every move, drinking you in as your bra came off. Then, with your shaky fingers, you hooked your thumbs under your panties, slowly peeling them down your thighs. Finally, you stood in front of him, naked, exposed, trembling, heart pounding in your ears.

"My, you're even lovelier than I'd imagined,"

You ached to feel him, craving more, more, more. A spark flashed in his gaze. You wanted him. Everything about this felt right. Every part of him wanted you too. His restraint was nothing but a mask, all for your benefit. You knew that once he lost his control, he would not be the patient and kind teacher you knew so well. Underneath that carefully crafted image was a beast, a creature of immense power, a force to be reckoned with.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes flitting up to his. A faint smirk played on his lips as his hand slid to your hip, dragging you closer. "Can't remember how to speak?"

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought.

"That's alright," he said, kissing his way down the side of your neck. “tell me if it gets too overwhelming,”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your bare skin brushed his, your hands flat against his broad chest. His lips found yours again, deepening the kiss as his tongue parted your lips. Something was happening to you, this unfamiliar feeling. You could tell something big was building inside, a need, and Elijah was unravelling it, unraveling you.

He chuckled against your lips as he cupped your face, slowly pulling back just enough to gaze at you with those deep, brown eyes of his. He took your hand and sat you down at the edge of the bed.

"Don't be shy," he whispered. "It's just me."

You gulped. Just Elijah. Sure. How reassuring.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, but as you looked at him, everything steadied. He took a step back, unbuttoning his collar slowly. You wanted him. You could barely stop yourself from reaching for his belt, your hunger overriding every thought and impulse. You mustered all the self-control Elijah had taught you, forcing yourself to sit still as your thighs clenched together, the urge to relieve yourself building and building.

Elijah tilted his head, enjoying how desperate you were becoming, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his shirt came undone. He tossed the article of clothing on the ground.

Your eyes drifted over his bare chest, his nice arms and toned torso. A breath escaped you when your eyes moved down to see the defined outline of his cock against the material of his slacks. He was big, so big, so thick, so—

Your face went hot. A jolt of reality hitting you, everything felt so much, all at once. The hunger for his touch, for his taste. The way he smelled so fucking good. Everything was amplified, your every sense alive and thrumming. You bit your lip and watched as his slacks hit the ground and he stepped out of them, your mouth practically salivating.

Elijah was fucking stunning, and all yours.

He smiled and placed one of his knees on the edge of the bed. The movement made it bounce ever so slightly, and your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but the only sound you could manage was a squeak.

He reached for you, pulling you close and capturing your lips in his again. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to surrendered to him, letting yourself feel him, really feel him.

"This is going to feel very intense for you," he murmured in the small space between your mouths, "your emotions and needs heightened. All your senses are in overdrive."

A sigh left you as you opened your eyes again to meet his, dark and full of promises you never dreamed of before. His eyes, they made you tremble, they were so warm, so intense. And when they dropped to your mouth, the heat pooling between your thighs intensified tenfold.

"Don't feed until I say so, you understand?" He pulled back slightly, tilting his head and giving you a warning look, making sure he had your complete attention.

You swallowed and nodded. "I won't,"

"Good girl," he hummed before dipping down to kiss your lips.

His kiss was more possessive, his touch more demanding. Elijah pushed you back into the bed, your hair sprawling around you as he kissed you senseless. His lips left yours and kissed down your jawline, down your neck, to the swell of your breasts. You moaned when you felt his hot, wet mouth close around your nipple, your body thrumming when he nipped your flesh between his teeth, giving the other the same treatment.

The throbbing was intense and so damn good. His mouth was magic as he kissed a path down your stomach, making you feel like your entire being was ablaze, your desire burning deep. You writhed, his lips curling into a smile against your skin. He could probably hear how hard your heart was pounding. He was driving you mad with need.

"Please, Elijah," you breathed, squirming beneath him as his mouth continued to work over you, down your abdomen.

A deep, husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, teasing, tantalizing you with each featherlight kiss. Your breathing picked up, his mouth so close to where you wanted him. Both of your hands tangled in his dark hair, nerves and anticipation waring in your mind.

His hands came up, parting your knees slowly. He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, widening his tongue and lapping you from your core to your clit, giving the tiny bud a teasing swirl of his tongue. The moan you let out was low and full of lust, a kind of lust you'd never felt before. Magnified, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Relax, angel," His lips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each word, making your heart jump to your throat, making it almost hard to breathe.

Your hips rolled forward, pushing you against his lips, seeking more pressure, more friction. You felt so wanton, so desperate, so needy. You felt him smile against your core as his mouth engulfed you, his tongue swirling and sucking as he slowly pressed his middle finger inside you.

Your whole body stiffened and clenched around him as your mouth fell open. A string of low and soft curses fell from your lips, and your back arched against his bed as he pumped his finger in and out.

"Elijah, oh, oh fuck," your voice broke as another moan escaped you when his tongue lapped at your clit. He curled his finger up inside you, sending a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

You tipped over the edge instantly, a white-hot heat engulfing you. You came in waves, your eyes clenched shut as your head fell back into the plush comforter beneath you. Elijah didn't stop his movements, working you through your climax and beyond until your hips stilled, and your breathing leveled out.

You felt so spent, but the ache inside you only deepened, intensified. You knew what you really needed to quench the fire, you knew that Elijah was the only one who could give you that. Your fangs itched, throbbing behind your gums, ready to come out when the moment was right.

Elijah sat up, wiping his mouth and looking pleased with himself as he looked down at your naked form beneath him. You bit your lip, heat creeping into your cheeks as you smiled at him.

"That was..." you trailed off, unable to form the proper words to describe what the fuck you had just experienced.

Elijah grinned as he dipped back down and pressed a long and loving kiss to your lips. He pulled you closer as you deepened the kiss. He kissed you so sweetly and softly, his hands resting on your lower back and his tongue slowly mapping out your mouth. You hummed into his kiss as you ran your fingers down his toned back, pulling him close.

"Now, my sweet angel," Elijah murmured, tilting your face up so his dark eyes locked with yours. "Are you ready for your final lesson?"

"Yes, Elijah," you whispered, your lips brushing against his. “Please,”

Elijah took one of your legs and wrapped it around him as his cock nudged your core. He was teasing you, moving the tip up and down your slit, making your entire body quiver as he kissed down your neck, finding a spot just behind your ear and nibbling gently.

He continued this pattern, your whines becoming needy and pathetic. Elijah's smirk pressed to your skin as his fangs nipped at your shoulder. Your head rolled back, giving him more room as he suckled on your pulse point.

"Such a good student for me, always listening, always eager." He said between nips. "Are you going to keep being my good girl?"

A strangled yes fell from your lips as Elijah nudged at your entrance. You whined and panted, trying to wiggle your hips and get him to sink his cock inside you, but he only chuckled and gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as he nuzzled your neck.

"Let's not be impatient," he whispered, the low and possessive tone in his voice made a shiver roll down your spine. "There's so much I have yet to teach you, darling."

Elijah pressed his hips forward, and you felt the tip of him press against your entrance. He moved his face away from your neck as he pressed into you.

Your hands clung to him as you braced for it, this thing, this big, scary thing you never experienced, was suddenly happening. “It's okay," he hummed, "just breathe, angel,"

Your face felt warm as you looked at him and took a deep breath. He leaned forward, kissing your lips lovingly as his hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, sinking deeper.

His thrusts were slow, languid, intense. Elijah held himself up on his forearms, caging you as he looked down at you. Your mouth parted as your eyes locked with his. His slow and teasing rhythm had you trembling beneath him.

"My sweet little vampire," he purred, a deep sound in the back of his throat. "So good for me."

The words of praise were too much, the sight of Elijah above you, the feeling of him inside you. Your nails raked down his back, digging into his skin, needing him closer, wanting more, desperate to consume it all. 

A sudden vampiric urge took over, and you pushed on his chest with all your strength, he chuckled and sat back, letting you take the lead with a smirk on his face. In one swift move you were straddling his lap, sinking back down onto his cock and making both of you moan.

You were running on pure instinct as you began to move your hips, trying to find the right rhythm. He cupped your ass in his hands, his thumbs stroked your skin gently as you bounced up and down on his lap.

"Like this, angel," he said softly, repositioning your knees as you gripped his shoulders. "Here," he pulled one hand away from your ass to show you the correct motion to roll your hips with, guiding you until your movements matched his instructions.

"A fast learner in all things," He purred as a grin formed on your face, making him smile in return. You kept the movement of your hips steady, trying to control the bloodlust in your peripherals. 

Your hips slowed and you leaned forward to kiss along his neck, your fangs extending, and a new feeling came over you. A hunger that couldn't be filled by blood or sex. This hunger needed both, primally, simultaneously. And it had a target.

You felt him grip you a little tighter as your hips rocked a little faster. The bed began to creak softly beneath you as you increased your rhythm, his head rolled back with a soft moan. The sound only spurred you on.

Elijah gripped the back of your head and pulled you up for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you swirled your hips. The movement caused your clit to rub against him, giving you that delicious friction you so badly needed.

The wild hunger was taking over, obscene bloodlust. Clouding all reasoning. Your fangs ached with a painful desire to bite him, sink into him, take his blood.

"Elijah," you murmured between kisses. You couldn't wait any longer. Your eyes were black, your fangs extended, veins dancing under your eyes, and Elijah chuckled at the look. "Elijah, can I—"

He kissed you harder, his grip on your hips tightening. "Take what you need, angel,"

A growl came from the back of your throat, and your lips went straight to his neck. The moment you sunk your fangs in his skin, he moaned deeply, making your clench around him.

Time seemed to fall away as you tasted Elijah's blood. It was rich and sweet, nothing like anything you'd ever tasted before. It felt like you were in some sort of haze, unable to stop yourself from bouncing and moaning in Elijah's lap as you fed on him. Blinded by pure and unadulterated pleasure.

It was heaven, pure and simple, the taste of him. A moan rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his groan through his neck.

You were drunk off his blood, high off his touch. Everything about him was intoxicating. The sounds, the taste, the feeling, the sin of it all.

"Don't stop," he groaned. "Fuck, don't stop."

You couldn't even if you tried. You would never disobey an order from him. Your hips were moving at an almost inhuman pace, the taste of his blood only adding fuel to the fire inside. He was all yours, and you were his. Blood, sex, breath, skin, all intermingling. You felt his hand come up and tangle into your hair, holding you to his neck as his other hand moved to the small of your back, adjusting your rhythm to an inhuman level.

"Just like that, angel, fuck," his voice was a strangled whisper, his head rolled back as a loud, throaty groan left him.

The way his body stiffened, the way he moaned, and the way his hips snapped up into yours, his cock thrusting deep into you had you seeing stars. You were coming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was all too much. His blood, his cum, the feeling of him deep inside you, the taste of him on your lips, the scent of him everywhere. Everything exploded at once. White hot fire rolled over and under your skin, like you were being consumed by napalm. 

He moaned deeply as you rode out your orgasms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly pressed against his chest. You panted, trying to catch your breath as his mouth found yours, he bit down on your lip, your own blood flooding his mouth, mingling with the taste of his. Completing the connection, blood mixing, becoming one. 

You were panting, breathless, sated. But the need wasn't gone. The hunger lingered. The desire remained. You didn't think it would ever be fully quenched.

Elijah pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips before he laid down, bringing you with him. He shifted so that his softening cock slipped out of you and cradled you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as the two of you lay there in silence, catching your breath.

Your body felt exhausted and sore, but so fucking good, too. Your head was swimming as Elijah looked at you with a tender, loving gaze, a hint of pride lingering in the brown eyes that studied you. You felt your face grow hot under his scrutiny, feeling self-conscious from how intensely he was watching you.

Elijah’s fingers traced idle circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "You’re thinking too much, angel," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I just... I don’t know what this means to you." The words felt clumsy now, uncertain in a way you hadn’t been when you had marched into his study and asked him to ruin you.

Elijah hummed, tilting his head like he was considering something. "Curious," he mused. "You certainly weren’t so hesitant when you strolled into my study and propositioned me like one might ask for a book recommendation."

The heat that bloomed across your cheeks was now traveling down your neck. "That was different."

"Was it?" He chuckled, low and indulgent. "You seemed quite certain then. So impatient, so eager. So hopelessly distracted during our lessons. Tell me, was it always lust muddling your focus, or was it just me?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "I regret everything."

"No, you don’t," he countered, the smug grin evident in his voice. "But tell me, angel, why the sudden uncertainty?"

You bit your lip, the vulnerability creeping back in. "I don’t know if this was just... a lesson for you. That this is just casual,"

Elijah stilled for half a second. Just long enough for doubt to gnaw at you. Before he tipped your chin up, his eyes were dark but soft. "You are a rarity," he began, voice like silk. "Fascinating, infuriating. Bold enough to challenge me, reckless enough to walk into my study and ask the unthinkable. Do you know how long it has been since someone has surprised me?"

You swallowed hard, and he smiled. "That is why I call you angel," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Because I look at you and I see heaven."

Your chest ached at the weight of his words. He had called you angel from the moment he agreed to this. He had looked at you with something unreadable, something reverent, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Elijah was right; this was a lesson for you, but not the one either of you had expected. It wasn't about control, or restraint, or blood. It was a lesson in trust, in opening your heart, and it was the last thing either of you had thought to expect.

And as Elijah leaned down and kissed you again, his hands gentle and possessive and loving all at once, you knew it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[beans-core]

mmmh true… cant give up the angst… but that brings up another question: why do some scars stay and others don’t? And before anyone corrects me yes I know the autopsy scar is fanon. But in our little fanon realm, why did the autopsy scar (the one I think you’re referring to) stay, while (in most fics/fanart I’ve seen) the joker J-brand on his face is healed? I bet the answer is something along the lines of “because yes”, with the addition of character design and plot devices. But I wonder if the fandom could finagle a way to make it for an actual Lazarus Pit related reason.

Like for example— and do understand that I’m just talking out my ass because I don’t know that much about dc— say that the Pit is affected by the person in it. What if the Pit not only heals the physical damage, but tries to heal the mental damage too? Keyword: tries. The Lazarus Pits’ only technical ability is regenerating and healing physically. But maybe whatever mystical-magic-funk it’s made of strives to heal as much as possible with its limitations. Scars that have no bad memories attached at the time (ex: the autopsy scar because Jason didn’t have any memory of it happening) stay because, in the moment, the Pit can’t tell if it’s detrimental. The scars that are distressing or worse (ex: the joker brand, associated with heaps of trauma) are removed as an attempt to sooth the mind.

Jason: It’s your spleen! You lost an ORGAN Tim, you should have told us!

Tim: So? You don’t have your tonsils, that’s an organ!

Dick: That’s not the same and you kn-

Jason: Jokes on you, my tonsils grew back in the Lazarus Pit so your argument doesn’t even make sense!

Dick, now fully turned toward Jason: Your tonsils did WHAT

[noctiva]

Pincushion

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!

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WC: 6.7k

Summary: You’re an apprentice piercer trying to build your portfolio as much as you can. How lucky is it, that you have a best friend who can’t feel pain?

CW: 18+ content, descriptions of body parts being pierced, VERY improper piercing aftercare I’m being so fr don’t do this, friends to lovers, explicit sexual content, dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), possessiveness, dirty talk, hair pulling, drool and spit, cumming untouched

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Stay safe!

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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“I’m not k-keeping this one.”

The situation you found yourself in right now right now was a familiar one. Sat on your best friend Toby’s lap, the backs of your thighs pressed to his in the warmth of his bedroom. A soft rock song droned on from the speakers of his old record player, creating an inviting atmosphere that warded off uncomfortable silence.

A golden glow shines in through his bedroom window, curtains pulled back to reveal the slowly setting sun. You’re warm, cloaked in a hoodie that Toby had offered you when you were shivering before hand - basking in the softness and scent that cloaked you. Cheap cigarettes, musky cologne, pine.

It may have been a sweet sight, if not for the hollow needle pinched between your latex clad fingers.

Just inches from his face you held it, the victim in question looking up at you with a displeased expression.

A couple months ago, you had gotten a spot as an apprentice piercer at your town’s local tattoo shop. You had learned all of the safety measures, done all of the certification, so now the only thing left to do was practice. And well, you could only practice on yourself so many times.

You needed someone else. To be able to watch closely at every little thing you did, from the pinch of the clamp to the needle slicing through skin or cartilage. You needed real people, willing clients.

And well, Toby was one of those things.

It had been less than two hours after you got the gig before you were proposing the idea. With the world ‘please’ uttered more times than you could count, and the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster up - it still took weeks until you finally cracked him.

“Come on, Toby. At least let me pierce your ears. It can just be a little stud.” You had asked for the fiftieth time, to which he had responded with;

“Fuh-Fuck no. It’s not my style.”

“You think? I think you’d look pretty cute with them.”

You pierced his lobes later that day. Then, his septum a week later. Then his lip, eyebrow, and a few cartilage piercings spanning down the shell of his ear. He didn’t keep many, usually only letting them stay for long enough for you to snap a few photos for your portfolio - but he had taken a liking to a few.

One thin hoop pierced through his nostril, and the lobes you had done first. You thought that the eyebrow suited him the best, but he had tugged the barbell out just minutes after it was placed snug under his skin. Alas, at least you had photographic evidence that it had once been there.

After so many impromptu sessions, Toby just gotten used to you showing up at his house with a cheeky grin and piercing supplies in hand. Which, was exactly how you ended up on his lap on this particular evening.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you to.” You hum as you hand him a travel sized bottle of mouthwash to rinse with. “But I’ve never done this one before, so I’ve got to learn.” You smile at him. “Swish with that, then stick out your tongue.”

Toby legs out a groan, his eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance as he peers up at you. He had just woken up less than an hour ago - evidenced by his unruly hair and sleepy eyes - and now you were just seconds away from shoving a needle into his tongue. It wasn’t like he would feel it, but it wasn’t about that. It was about the prospect of it all.

What ever happened to just hanging out? Couldn’t you go one day without treating him like a pincushion?

If he was being completely honest, the only reason he hadn’t kicked you off of his lap yet was because he liked the feeling of you being there. Liked the warmth that seeped from your body into his. Liked being so close that he could hear each breath that left you lips. He liked the way you bit your bottom lip when you were focusing the best.

He also liked the way you let him rest a hand on your hip to keep you stable (which was an excuse he was still surprised that you believed).

He was your best friend, but you were his fixation. The most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, but he just didn’t have the guts to tell you. So, he settled for this. Keeping you held close whilst you stuck needles into his skin. Besides, he would much rather it was him than someone else.

So, he does what you’ve asked. Takes a swig of the mouthwash all whilst looking up at you with narrowed eyes, struggling to keep an annoyed expression while you were looking down at him so sweetly. All smiles and stars in your eyes. Hair pulled up haphazardly into a makeshift bun to keep the strand out of your face. Clad in his hoodie. His hoodie.

God, he was such a sucker.

Leaning his head to the side, he spits into the mug you had brought into his room for that exact purpose. Once that’s over with, as his mouth is coated in the taste of alcohol and mint, he looks back up at you. You were so close. Leaned in with a set of clamps in one hand and a needle in the other. So close he could smell you. Your perfume intermingling with the scent coming off of his sweater. His heart rate picks up just a little. “Y-You gonna pierce all your clients like-like this?” He asks with a soft chuckle, and you roll your eyes.

“Would probably get better tips if I did, but no.” You snort, shifting a bit on his lap. Now, his pulse is racing. He’s a lot less concerned about the needle inches from his face, than he is about popping an unwanted boner beneath you. “Hope you appreciate the special treatment you’re getting.” He did. Much more than you could imagine. “Now hurry up! Stick out your tongue for me, Rogers.”

He thinks he’s do anything for you if it was said in that sweet bossy tone you just used.

So, he lets out a breath through his nose, the does just what you ask. It’s mere seconds later that a clamp pinches his tongue.

Piercing Toby had its pros and cons. Pro: He couldn’t feel the pain, so he sat like a champ. An absolute dream for anyone in the industry. Con: His tics from his Tourette’s were completely involuntary, so you couldn’t exactly tell him to sit still and expect him to abide by that.

That was alright though. It just meant you had to learn to be quick. Your clients in the future would probably be thanking him for that learned skill.

You lean in close, sandwiching his tongue between the cold metal clamp and raising the needle. He’s looking up at you, fixated on your face as you bring the sharp point to the muscle.

All he feels is a slight pressure, then relief. The coldness of the needle lodged in his flesh. It was odd, but bearable. What wasn’t bearable, were the thoughts pinging around in his mind like popping candy. Did you know how pretty you were? Did you know that if you let him, he could count every freckle on your face and not once grow bored during it?

Did you know how he saw you? The blinding sun in the centre of his universe?

He doesn’t even realize you’ve slipped the jewelry in, until you’re screwing on the top ball. “There!” You grin, gazing down at his newly adorned tongue in satisfaction. “How’s it feel?”

Hot. He feels really hot.

“L-Like metal in my mouth.” He answers, frowning a little at the feeling of the piercing clinking against his teeth when he talks. It’s uncomfortable. This feels more like an intrusion than any other piercing you’ve ever given him. It couldn’t be ignored, making its presence known every time he formed a word. “It’s not st-staying. So, take a picture quick.”

“Boring.” You scoff, before sticking your tongue out at him playfully. You peel the latex gloves off of your hands before dropping them to the floor. “I think it looks good on you. Plus, the ladies would love it.”

Toby meets your eyes, and cocks an eyebrow.

“I d-doubt that.” He scoffs. He still had a hand on your hip from keeping you in place while you worked, but he hadn’t moved it yet. He didn’t think he could force himself to unless you told him to move.

“No, they totally would.” You argue, leaning back on his thighs. It was a shift that was actually in his favour, bringing your hips farther away from his. He definitely needed that distance. “It’s hot,” It was, or he was? “Plus it has benefits any girl would like.”

“B-Benefits?” He frowns, tilting his head to the side a little to observe you. Just what were you getting at here? Was this a joke? “Like what?”

You let out a little giggle, and bring a hand up to cover your mouth. It’s the sweetest sound that’s ever graced Toby’s ears. He’s already of thinking of ways to hear it again.

“You know.” You laugh, averting your gaze from his out of embarrassment. It’s not like you’ve never breached the topic of sexuality during a conversation in all of the years you’ve known each other, it’s just the look on his face that’s getting you. So clueless, it’s adorable. “Same reason guys like girls with tongue piercings.” You look back to him, and can tell he’s still not getting it. “More stimulation.”

Oh. Oh.

It’s instantaneous, the way a flush creeps onto his cheeks the moment your words register. If he was having a hard time restraining his thoughts before, he was putting in overtime now. Were you making this hard on him on purpose? Sitting on his lap, spouting about the sexual benefits of the piercing you had just given him?

It takes all the power in the world for him not to tighten the lazy grip he has on your hip.

“Says wh-who? He chokes out, voice coming out far hoarser than he meant it to. His tongue is starting to throb in his mouth, and he’s hopeful that his blood will stay up there and not migrate further south.

“Uh, everyone?” You laugh, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s just like, a fact. Having a tongue piercing equals giving better head. How do you not know this?”

Uh, maybe because the only girl he’s thought about sexually in years was you? But maybe it would’ve been a good fact to know before you pierced him.

“Are you speaking f-from experience, or what?” He doesn’t know why he asked that. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying right now, if he’s being honest. His brain was fried, coherent thoughts fizzling out before they came to fruition. And with his brain clocked out, that only left one other organ to think with. He was so screwed.

The way you look at him after he’s spoken has Toby wanting to bite his tongue clean off. Death would surely be better than you staring down at him, equal parts bewildered and shocked by his bold ask. He can’t even bring himself to try and backtrack and save face, because he feels like his throat is closing up. If there was an award for ‘World’s biggest dumbass’ he would’ve surely swept the floor with the competition.

“No.” You breathe out, face growing hot. Toby’s not any better - the pink tone dusting his cheeks beginning to creep down his neck. “I just… That’s what people say.”

“W-Would you want…” Shut the fuck up, Toby. Shut your idiotic mouth. “Would you ever want t-to try it?” He’s done for. Might as well just throw in the towel now.

He must be speaking with his dick, because if these thoughts were filtering through his brain at all they would’ve stayed tucked far away where you could never hear them. But he was saying them to you, right in your face, just inches from you. He hasn’t a semblance of a clue where this boldness was coming from, but just he knew it would be his undoing.

Hopefully his frazzled mind could figure out a way to leave this interaction not looking like the horny freak he was deep down.

“Would I want to?” You repeat back to him, your tongue feeling heavy as you speak the words. Why was it so hot all of a sudden? And why could you suddenly only focus on the feeling of Toby’s hand on your waist? Before, you had barely even registered it being there. Now, it was all you could feel. “I mean like, yeah.” You murmur sheepishly. “If the opportunity presented itself.”

Toby’s eyes quickly lock in on the pretty pink hue slowly spreading across your cheeks and up to the tips of your ears. You were avoiding his gaze like the plague, and you just kept fidgeting. Were you embarrassed? Uncomfortable? Had he taken it too far?

He watches as you tug the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands, and curl your fingers into fists. “Also I… I don’t know anyone who has one.”

Was that bait? It sounded like bait. So much so that Toby’s eyes immediately flick upwards to scan your face. You were still blushing, darker now, eyes fixated on the wall behind him like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

He knows. He knows he shouldn’t push. But his tongue is pulsing in his mouth, and his dick is coming to life in his jeans, so he’s feeling just a tad compromised. Besides, if you wrote him off he could just act like he was joking. That always worked with you.

“You know me.” Toby murmurs the words softly, almost like he’s hoping you won’t hear it. But, you’re so close that the probability of that is slim to none.

You hear it alright, gaze snapping to his the moment the sound of his voice reaches your ears.

“What… What are you saying?” You ask hesitantly, forcing the words out of your lungs. You know what he’s saying. You know exactly what he means, and yet actually accepting that fact is a lot harder than he probably realizes. He was joking, right? Because there was just no way Toby would offer what he just did to you, of all people.

He… You were his best friend, right? Nothing more, nothing less. That is, unless that was just you being blind and ignorant. Maybe his always lingering touches meant something. Maybe there was a reason he so easily abided to your every whim and suggestion.

“W-Whatever you think I’m saying.” Toby shrugs, and you feel it when his grip on your hip tightens just minutely. Enough for you to really feel it - the pressure of his fingers through your clothes. You’re suddenly acutely aware of every point of contact where your body met his. Your thighs against his, his hand on your waist. Chests so close it would be an ease to close the distance.

You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his eyes. Those chocolate brown irises were blazing. Thinly veiled desire waging a war within them, trying to burst free.

God, had you ever had anyone look at you like that?

“But that… That would be weird.” You laugh sheepishly, despite the fact that your mind was already conjuring up ideas of how it would go down.

Toby’s calloused hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart and holding them open. That fluffy mess of brown hair, begging for you to tug on it as he parted his lips and-

“W-Would it?” Toby asks, voice lower than before. He reaches up with his free hand, and grasps your chin oh so gently between two fingers. Then he’s turning your head towards him, leaving your gaze nowhere to run as he holds you in place. “Why would it b-be?”

He was in far too deep to back down now, and he was quite sure you didn’t want him to anyway. He could see it, the look in your eyes, how your pupils had dilated more with each word he spoke. You were so receptive, but were holding yourself back. He just had to give you a little push.

“Because.” You mutter, swallowing thickly. You feel like you’re drowning in his eyes, your heart thudding so loud you’re almost convinced it’s migrated to your ears. “Because we’re friends.”

You watch as Toby’s lips purse, a look of something flashing in his irises. Irritation. Maybe a little bit of impatience.

“I’m y-your friend.” He breathes out after a few moments, giving you a few beats to really think about you’ve said before he responds. Just friends. Were you really? You had the potential to be so much more. “You’re s-so much more to me than that, though.”

The hand on your waist slips around you, his forearm wrapping around your torso as he draws you in closer. There’s no excuses now. He didn’t want there to be. “You’re e-everything. Have been since the d-day I met you.” Toby tilts your head downwards, and it’s almost maddening how easily your body bends to his will. Easily conceding. Just letting him push and pull you into whatever position he saw fit. “B-But I didn’t wanna scare you o-off.”

He leans in, close enough that his nose is nearly brushing yours, his gaze still unwavering. You can see the glint of metal in his mouth everytime he speaks. “So I s-sat back. Sat back and watched you f-fuck around with guys that would never have what it takes to t-treat you right.” Your breath hitches, catching in your throat. “Because they don’t know you. N-Not like I do.”

He tugs you in closer, and you can’t help the gasp that leaves you when your hips press against his. You can feel the bulge he’s sporting now, snug against your clothed heat as he looks you right in the eyes. “No one knows you like I-I do.”

And you can’t argue, because you know he’s right. Toby had been the only constant in your life for as long as you could remember. Always close by, always keeping an eye. Making sure you’re safe, happy, cared for. He was also funny, sweet, and handsome in a rugged way. Ergo, clearly the best option, but one you had never considered up until now.

Not because you hadn’t ever thought about it, but more so for fear of ruining what you held dear. Things were fine as they were, so why push it?

You think it over for a total of less than a second before you shift, pressing your hips to his with a lot more intention. Because this feels better. That’s why. Toby lets out a little hiss through his teeth when you notch your hips forwards, his own jolting instinctively at the contact. Your eyes were brimming with a mixture of emotions, mostly shyness and nervousness - but the desire was shining through clear as day. You wanted this. Wanted him.

God, this stupid piercing was so fucking worth it. “No one else knows what s-scares you, excites you.” He trails his hand down your jaw, then your side, letting it find a home resting right above your hipbone as he tugs you down against him again. Gently. Just coaxing you. Taking it at whatever pace you need. “No one else k-knows what makes you laugh. O-Or the way your eyes light up when something makes you ha-happy. No one but me.” You hesitantly roll your hips downwards, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sensation.

You can really feel him now, just growing harder beneath you with each movement you make. Can feel the shape of him, the size of him - large enough to make your heart jump. “I-Isn’t that right?” He’s dipped his head down lower, brought his lips close to your ear so that you can feel the heat of his breath when he speaks. Goosebumps prickle your skin, and it’s getting harder to ignore the warmth creeping down between your thighs.

“Yeah.” You breathe, voice soft and trembling. Toby lets out a little hum of agreement at your answer, and then you feel him hesitate for just a moment before he leans in closer. He does it anyway, pressing his lips against the skin just below your ear. So gentle of a touch you can barely feel it, but it’s enough to send your body into a frenzy.

“S-So it only makes sense that I’d treat you b-best, right?” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks. You’re moving completely of your own volition now - slow rolls down against his lap, dragging your clothed core against the outline of his length. There are butterflies in your stomach, fluttering lower and lower to make your cunt throb against him. You wonder if he can feel it. “I-I’d make it my life’s mission to make you happy.” He murmurs as his grip on you tightens, hips bucking up to meet yours. His breathing has grown heavier and so has yours, soft huffs of air, quivering on exhale. “Y-You’d never cry. Not unless i-it was from somethin’ good.”

Toby rocks you against him, keeping you snug against his chest - all personal space lost. “I-I’d worship you.” He breathes, biting back a groan. “D-Do anything you want. W-Why wouldn’t you want that?”

Good question. Why wouldn’t you?

“I do.” You choke out, eyes fluttering as he pulls you down against him once more. Soft, slows rocks of your hips turning into something much more insistent. He would swear he could feel your heat permeating through your clothes. Just the idea of you growing wet above him right now was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Yeah, you d-do?” He asks, nuzzling into your hair as you move against him. Drowning in your scent. In all of the little sounds you were trying to bite back. “You’ll let me treat you how you d-deserve?”

“Mhm.” You nod back mindlessly, reaching up to grip at the front of his t-shirt - curling your fingers into the fabric. This is good. Really good. The feeling of having Toby so close. The friction of your panties rubbing against your clit every time your hips met his. His hands on you. His breath on your neck.

You were baffled as to how you denied yourself or this for so long? You could’ve had this all along? God, were you stupid.

“God-“ Toby breathes out in a quivering voice. Then, in one swift movement he’s standing and bringing you with him. Arms snaking under your thighs, holding you against him with almost mind-boggling ease as he walks you back towards his bed. It’s messy, blankets strewn around from when he had woken up to the sound of you knocking on his door.

A fact that he had been a little embarrassed about when you first arrived, but he couldn’t care less now. If things went his way, it was going to be an even bigger mess by the time he was done with you.

He lowers you down on his sheets gently, then climbing over you mere seconds later. Blanketing you with his body as he leans down to press his lips to your neck. Toby had thought about this very scenario numerous times. Jerked off to the idea far more times than he would ever admit. You beneath him, all soft and willing. Pulling him in close, hips bucking up towards his impatiently.

His imagination didn’t do the real thing justice at all. You were addictive. The feeling of your fingers weaving into his hair was one he’d never forget, nails scratching against his scalp as he left open mouthed kisses against your neck.

In the back of his mind, he could feel his tongue throbbing. His fresh piercing obviously not too keen on the treatment it was receiving as he licked and nipped at your skin. He couldn’t give less of a damn right now. His tongue could fucking fall off after all this, for all he cared, just so long as he got to taste you first.

Toby’s hands slip under the sweater and up your torso as he swirls his tongue against your collarbone, and he’s nearly moaning from the taste of your skin alone. He can’t think. Couldn’t form a coherent thought if he tried right now, all he could do was meld into you - a slave to his own desires as his palms make their way downwards again, fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts.

He pauses, as if to silently ask for permission, and you’re nodding before you can even think twice about it. Breathing out ‘please’ before you can cringe at how desperate you sound.

You could worry about everything else later. What this meant, where you’d go from it afterwards, if he truly meant everything he had said. None of that mattered right now. You just needed him.

Despite his eagerness, he pulls your shorts off gently. Slowly. Letting you feel the drag of his fingers on the outsides of your thighs as he tugs the material down. He creates a trail of goosebumps against your soft skin, a sight that has a shiver going down his spine. You hear him curse under his breath before he’s ducking his head back down again.

Tugging your sweater up but not all the way off, he presses his lips to the valley between your breasts. Nuzzling into the cleavage that your bra presented to him to beautifully. He thinks he could live there, if you let him, but not today. Today, he has other plans.

Another kiss, to your sternum. Then another a few inches down. It’s only once his lips meet your belly button, that you realize what his destination is.

“Toby-“ You lean up onto your elbows, watching him with hazy eyes as he mouths against your hipbone - toying with the hem of your panties with his teeth. His eyes flit up to meet yours, pupils blown wide. You’re pretty sure you look quite the same when he catches the waistband between his canines and tugs on it. “Your tongue, you can’t-“

“Won’t feel it. D-Doesn’t matter.” He cuts you off, bringing his hands down to cup the backs of your thighs. Callouses against smooth skin, gently spreading you open wider.

“That’s not the issue.” You argue, hips twitching when releases the fabric in his teeth with a snap against your skin. “You know how unsafe that is? It’ll get infected.”

“L-Let it. I don’t g-give a fuck.” His nails bite into your skin, fingers pressing deep into the supple flesh. “I’ve fuh-fuckin’ dreamt about this pussy.” As if to enunciate his point, he closes the gap between his face and your core - pressing his nose against the dampened fabric with a moan. You jolt, hips leaving the bed for a second from the sudden stimulation against your throbbing clit. “I need to taste you. P-Please.” His lips part before you can even speak next, his darting out to drag flat against clothed folds.

And you think, it would take a lot stronger of a woman than you to refuse him. Nestled between your thighs, face flushed and eyes hazy as he mouths at your heat through your panties.

It’s a bad idea and you know it is, but he’s literally begging you. Begging for you in a way no man had ever done for you before. He was right, he would treat you better.

And so - disregarding pretty much the number one rule after getting an oral piercing, and spitting in the face of all the training you did - you nod. Small, and shaky, but that’s all Toby needs. “A-Ah, thank you.” He murmurs against you, fingers coming up to grab at the thin material hugging your hips.

He pulls it down a lot quicker than he had your shorts, desperation obviously getting the best of him. That was okay though, because his blazing desire for you was only making you wetter. A sight that he got a prime view of once your underwear was completely discarded - thrown off into some corner of his bedroom. “So puh-pretty.” Toby murmurs in awe, before bringing a hand down to swipe his fingers through your slickness. You can hear it when his breath hitches. “And s-so wet for me.” He spreads his fingers, parting your folds and exposing you fully - fixated on the sight of your core like he had just seen god himself.

He might as well have, with the effect you have on him. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, rock hard length pulsing against the confines of his jeans. Only once it drips down against you, does he notice that he’s drooling. Literally drooling over your pussy.

Such a mess for you, but he couldn’t care less. “S-So fucking pretty.” He repeats again in a breathless whisper, and then he’s diving in.

Your entire body jolts when his tongue meets your cunt - licking a long, flat stripe from bottom to top. You couldn’t even attempt to hold back the moan that elicited, body arching up from the bed as tingles shoot up your spine.

You can feel it. You can feel the hard metal of his piercing, pressing against your clit when he repeats the action. And the rumours were right. That felt fucking divine. It added the perfect amount of pressure, the jewelry rolling against you with each flick of his tongue. He laps at you a few times, dipping into your folds, savouring the taste of you flooding his tastebuds.

You were so sweet. So sweet that even though his cock is aching in his jeans, but he pays it no mind. He just needed this, your pussy flush against his face, and he’d be satisfied. The tip of his tongue swipes through your slick, and then his lips are circling around your clit - giving it all the love it deserved.

Your hand flies downwards, fisting into his hair with a grip you know would be painful if he could feel it. But you couldn’t help it. He was eating you out like a starving dog, slurping up every drop of slick that left you. “S-So fuckin’ good.” He slurs against you, taking in a quivering breath before he prods his tongue at your entrance.

It the only warning you get before the warm muscle is sliding inside you.

“F-Fuck, Toby-“ You cry, tugging him in closer by the hair - an action that makes him let out a gravelly moan into you. Hot, slick muscle slides against your quivering walls - the top ball of his piercing dragging against the sensitive flesh. It makes you genuinely see stars, vision going blurry as his tongue works inside you. “You- Fuck! It’s so good.”

He honestly didn’t think he could get more turned on than he already was right now, but the sound of your voice? Yeah, that did it. You sounded fucking sinful. Gasped out, strained words. Voice so high pitched and pretty. And the moans that were slipping out now too? He needed to hear more. Needed to hear you moan your little heart out until your throat went raw.

His fingers claw at your thighs, and now he’s tugging them apart wider, giving himself ample room to devour you completely. His tongue thrusts into you, nose bumping against your clit, the entire bottom half of his face shining with a combination of your slick and his drool. But he just couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Not until you were begging him to.

He leans forwards more, practically burying his face in your cunt. As he does, his hips shift, his neglected cock brushing against the bed through his jeans. And by now, he’s so agonizingly worked up that just that small bit of friction has him letting out a gravelly moan right against your twitching core.

He lapping you up like he had been starving for it, and quite honestly, he was. He had been, for a long, long time. He feels almost dizzy from it, so drunk on you that his mind was going hazy.

And you? Well, you’re having a hard time not completely melting into his bed. You can barely breathe between moans. Tingles of pleasure are making your thighs twitch and tremble but Toby keeps them held open right where he wants them. You’re burning up, slick with sweat. You had thought about tugging the sweater off of you, but being enveloped in his scent was just getting you higher.

His tongue leaves you, and then he’s back to abusing your clit again - flicking his pierced tongue against the swollen nub. He can feel it throbbing, and he knows he’s getting you right where he wants you to be.

He sucks on you gently, rubbing the metal in his mouth against the sensitive flesh - a sensation that has you damn near sobbing. A sound that he wants to hear over and over again, so he doubles his efforts.

One hand leaves your thigh (in its wake, five crescent shaped indents in your skin) to move lower downwards instead. His tongue drags flat against your clit as he slips a finger inside you.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better.

He pumps it into you in time with the flick of his tongue, curling it gently as he tries to find the spot that would make you cry out for him again. Once, twice, three times he tries, and then- “Ah!” Found it.

The way you tightened up around him made his mind go fuzzy, imagining just how perfect you’d feel around his cock instead. You were already so tight, wet, and warm around his finger - which was just a taste. He’d probably cum before he even got an inch inside.

Speaking of, he was trying not to right now. Without even realizing it, ever since that first brush of the mattress against his length, he had been absentmindedly grinding down against his while keeping his tongue occupied. He needed something, anything, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tear his mouth away from you. He might not ever get enough.

And so, he’s left humping his own mattress like a damn dog, downright whorish groans vibrating against you everytime he brings his hips down. If he had any rationality left, he’d realize how humiliating the entire scenario was, but his mind was too far gone. Turned to mush by you and that holy treasure between your legs. “Toby-“ He hears you gasp again, and his name has never sounded better. You made it sound like gospel as you breathed it out, all needy and overwhelmed.

The warmth brewing in your gut was getting to be too much to bear, building and building into a heat that was all-consuming. You’re so close you can taste it, gripping his hair so tight that you’re almost worried you might rip some of the strands out.

Toby can feel it when your pleasure starts to crest, your walls convulsing around his finger as he laps at your clit. It just spurs him on more, knowing that he can take you there. That you’re crying out for him. Clutching at him as your thighs shake.

He feels like he’s on top of the world. He feels euphoric. He feels like…

…Like he’s cumming.

It hits him with no warning, unannounced, right as you let out a broken cry and arch up off of the bed. He’s moaning into you as you gush into his mouth, hot slick that has his eyes rolling back as a wet, sticky warmth blooms in his boxers.

His free hand claws at your thigh, his hips hopelessly rutting against the bed to ride out the high as you buck up into his mouth. Pulsing and twitching against his tongue. Still, he couldn’t get enough. With pleasure sizzling through every nerve in his body, the taste of you was just heightening it. Making his hips twitch and his whole body tremble as he borderline sobs into your pussy, lapping up every drop of your release.

It’s only once your shaky hands start pushing his head away from your way too sensitive clit, does he relent.

It takes a few long moments for either of you to come back down to earth.

Toby’s left with his cheek pressed against your thigh, stubble scratching the soft skin as he gasps for air - trying to catch his breath. His eyes are drooped closed; cheeks flushed, hair in disarray, with his mouth and chin glistening with a combination of his spit and your release. He’s trembling slightly, you can feel it, still grasping your thigh like it would kill him to let go.

Through your hazy eyes, and brain still mushy from the afterglow of your orgasm, you think he might just be the most lovely thing you’ve ever seen.

You weakly tug at his hair, making his eyes flutter open to look up at you dreamily. “C’mere.” You murmur tiredly. “Wouldn’t be fair if I’m the only one who came.”

Toby blinks up at you and his face flushes an even deeper pink as he fumbles for what to say next. You hadn’t noticed? Well, maybe he couldn’t blame you for being too caught up in your own pleasure. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, gaping at you like a fish out of water before he’s mumbling out;

“Y-You weren’t.” He smiles at you sheepishly, blush spreading upwards to dust the tips of his ears rosy as well. “I’m g-good.”

Your lips part, eyes widening as his words sink in. Once the realization hits, a whole new wave of heat washes over your entire body. He had..? Just from..? You almost couldn’t wrap your head around it.

But when his hand reaches down to adjust his jeans, and you notice his expression twist into one of embarrassed discomfort - you know he’s not lying. “T-Tried not to, but… I don’t know. You d-do things to me.”

Clearly.

You let out a little disbelieving laugh, then trailing your hand down the side of his face to caress his cheek. The way he leans into your touch immediately has your heart slipping a beat. He was so perfect it was almost uncanny.

But of course, rationality had to come back into play eventually.

“Oh shit.” You breathe, pulling your hand back so that you could prop yourself up on your elbows as you gazed down at him - expression becoming wrinkled with worry. “How’s your tongue?”

Toby blinks up at you, like he had also forgotten about how carelessly he had treated the fresh wound in his mouth, before shrugging his shoulders and sticking his tongue out for you to observe.

Swollen and angry. That’s the best way you could describe the sight of the once portfolio-worthy piercing you had just done on him. His tongue was definitely irritated beyond belief, a painful looking shade of red coating the entire thing. “You’re fucked.” You murmur, brows pinching together. “Toby… That’s definitely getting infected.”

Again, Toby shrugs.

“W-Worth it.”

You were right, of course. Toby woke up the next morning with a tongue so swollen he could barely open his mouth. A sight that had you rubbing your temples in disbelief, and him still somehow managing a cocky grin

He managed to save it, with both his and your efforts combined (and antibiotics, and a lot of mouthwash, and ice cubes). It luckily only took about a week for the irritation to subside.

Which was good, because he was definitely keeping this one.

—————————————————————————☆

looked at my own tongue piercing in the mirror and went ‘What if Toby…’ and now here we are.

thanks for reading! ♡

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

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[woso-story]

Alexia Meeting Your Son Theo

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the park as you arrived hand-in-hand with Theo. Your little boy, excited as ever, swung your arm playfully as his eyes scanned the playground. But your gaze was elsewhere—on the woman sitting on a bench, waiting for you both. Alexia, your girlfriend of three months, stood up the moment she saw you, her face lighting up with a warm smile.

Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to Theo's level. "Remember what I told you? This is Alexia."

Theo looked up at her, curiosity shining in his big eyes. "Hi, Alexia!"

Alexia knelt to meet him at eye level. "Hola, Theo! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mama talks about you all the time."

Theo giggled and glanced at you. "Really?"

You ruffled his hair. "Really."

---

With the introductions out of the way, the three of you made your way to the playground. Theo ran ahead, climbing up the jungle gym with ease. Then, he turned back and called out, "Alexia, come up here!"

You chuckled, expecting her to politely decline, but to your surprise, Alexia grinned and followed him up. The sight was almost surreal—Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona and the Spanish National Team, crawling through a jungle gym meant for children. You couldn’t hold back your laughter when she struggled a little with the tight spaces.

"You okay there, champ?" you teased.

She shot you a playful glare. "I’ve faced defenders bigger than this, but I think this might be my toughest opponent yet."

Theo giggled uncontrollably before leading her to the slide. "We go down together, okay?"

Alexia nodded seriously, as if she had just received tactical instructions from her coach. But as she slid down, her long legs barely fitting, she landed with a dramatic plop. Theo clapped his hands, delighted.

---

As he ran off to play with some other kids, Alexia came to sit beside you on the bench, shaking her head in amusement.

"He likes you," you said softly, watching your son happily interact with the other children.

Alexia smiled. "He's an amazing kid. You've done such a great job raising him."

Warmth spread through your chest at her words. Most people had been hesitant about dating a mother, but not Alexia. She accepted everything about you, without hesitation.

Before long, Theo came running back, his clothes covered in dust and his face glowing with excitement. "Can we get ice cream?"

You exchanged a glance with Alexia, who immediately nodded. "Of course."

At the ice cream stand, Theo was set on getting his usual chocolate until Alexia ordered stracciatella. Eyes wide, he changed his mind. "I want what Alexia has!"

She chuckled. "Good choice."

As the three of you sat down to eat, Theo took one bite before exclaiming, "This is the best ever! From now on, I always want stracciatella!"

Alexia winked at you. "Looks like I’ve converted him."

---

As the afternoon stretched on, you noticed the effortless way Alexia fit into your little world. She wasn’t just there to impress you—she was genuinely interested in Theo, in his stories about dinosaurs and superheroes, in the way he built castles in the sandbox. You found yourself falling even more for her, seeing how kind and patient she was.

Later that evening, Alexia drove you both back home. You hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to."

While you prepared the food, Theo eagerly dragged Alexia to his room to show her his toys. Every now and then, you peeked in to see them playing together, Alexia just as immersed in his world as he was. At one point, she caught your eye and flashed you a smile so full of warmth that your heart fluttered.

"Mama, look! Alexia is really good at building towers!" Theo beamed, showing you the structure they had built with his blocks.

"She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?" you teased, making Alexia laugh.

After dinner, you took Theo to his room to get him ready for bed, but he had one last request. "I want Alexia to read me a story too."

You smiled and went to ask her. Without hesitation, she agreed. She chose a book about a brave little lion who learned to trust again after facing hardship. As she read, her voice was soft yet expressive, and Theo listened with rapt attention, his little fingers grasping the edge of the blanket.

Half an hour later, Theo was sound asleep, his breathing even. You and Alexia tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

---

Back in the living room, you turned to her. "Thank you. For everything today."

She pulled you into her arms and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It was my pleasure. I’d love to spend more time with you and Theo."

Your heart swelled. "I’d love that too."

The rest of the evening was spent curled up together on the couch, watching a movie in comfortable silence. At one point, Alexia reached for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. When it was time for her to leave, she kissed you softly before stepping out into the night.

As you climbed into bed, a smile lingered on your lips. Everything had gone so perfectly. It felt like the beginning of something truly special—something real, something lasting. A future that felt brighter than ever before.

[meadowfics]

lockscreen

namgyu x f!reader

who wouldn't put their cute boyfriend as their lockscreen?

warnings: mentions of drug addiction. angst into fluff

this was requested <3

loving namgyu is never hard.

it was the easiest thing in the world, really.

what was hard was watching him destroy himself, knowing that no matter how much you loved him, no matter how much you wanted to save him, he had to want to save himself first.

those first months together were some of the hardest of your life.

namgyu was drowning in his addiction, and you were barely keeping your head above water trying to pull him out.

you spent too many nights waiting up for him, only for him to stumble through the door smelling like alcohol and smoke, eyes red and unfocused.

there were arguments, slamming doors, nights where he passed out before you could even say goodnight.

still, you stayed, because you loved him.

because you saw the man he could be, even when he couldn't.

love alone wasn't enough to fix him.

eventually, after one too many broken promises, one too many nights spent crying yourself to sleep,

you made the hardest decision of your life...you walked away.

not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him too much to watch him keep destroying himself.

it was during that time apart that namgyu finally decided to change.

he checked himself into rehab, cut off the people who enabled him, and found a new job...one that didn’t have drugs and alcohol in every corner, one that didn’t drag him back into temptation every night.

you didn’t know all of this at the time.

all you knew was that, after months of silence, he showed up at your door sober, steady, and more sure of himself than you had ever seen him.

he told you he was clean. that he had been for months.

most of all, that he still loved you.

taking him back wasn’t a decision you made lightly.

when you looked into his eyes, really looked, you saw the man you had always believed he could be.

that was all you ever wanted.

now, three years into your relationship, things were different.

they were better.

namgyu still had his moments of doubt, but he had grown so much.

he smiled more now, genuine and unburdened.

he let you love him without questioning why you did.

he loved you in return in a way that left no room for doubt.

the two of you never minded using each other’s phones. there were no secrets, no reason to hide anything.

so when namgyu needed to check something online and his phone was charging in the bedroom, he didn’t think twice about picking yours up from the coffee table and unlocking it.

what he didn’t expect was to see a picture of himself staring back at him.

it wasn’t a picture he had taken or one he even remembered being taken.

as he looked at it, his breath caught in his throat.

it was from when you both visited your family in your home country over a year and a half ago.

the golden hour sun cast a warm glow over his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw.

his black hair, always brushed, looked almost blue under the sunlight.

he looked… healthy.

he remembered that trip well.

it had been just three months into his sobriety.

he had been shaky then, still learning how to exist without numbing himself with substances, still wondering if he even deserved to be happy.

he hadn’t realized you had captured him like this...at a moment when he was still struggling, still doubting himself.

yet, somehow, in this photo, he looked at peace.

he stared at it for a long time, fingers hovering over the screen as a strange feeling swelled in his chest.

“when did you set this as your lock screen?”

his voice came out quieter than he expected, almost hesitant.

you had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around your body, damp hair dripping onto your shoulders.

at the sound of his voice, you glanced up, eyes flicking to your phone in his hands.

when you saw what he was talking about, a soft smile tugged at your lips.

“i’ve had that as my lock screen since the evening it was taken.”

namgyu blinked. he looked down at the picture again, then back at you.

“wait, really? but that was… that was over a year ago.”

you nodded, walking over to him.

“yeah. i never changed it.”

namgyu felt his throat tighten. of all the pictures you could have chosen, you had chosen this one.

a picture from one of the most vulnerable times in his life.

a time when he still wasn’t sure if he was worthy of a second chance, of happiness, of you.

yet, you had seen something in him then that he hadn’t seen in himself.

setting your phone aside, he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

you smelled like shampoo and warmth and everything safe in the world.

“you’re a great photographer,”

he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

you let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“and you’re a good model.”

he huffed out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“nah. you just make me look good.”

“you make yourself look good,”

you murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“you always have.”

namgyu tightened his hold on you, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

he had spent so much of his life convinced that he wasn’t enough.

that no one would ever look at him and see something worth loving.

but you did.

you always did.

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