#like some moments stood out but even then all i could think of was like...

[deonsx]

helloo there!!♡, I really love the way you write. I'm wondering what it would be like if sae,rin,kaiser, have a gf who is a cosplayer, tyy♡!

Hiii dear!! Have a nice read and thank youuu^^

Rin Itoshi

Rin had come home early from practice. As soon as he opened the door he heard strange noises coming from the living room. When he walked in he found you sitting on the floor trying to shape a large piece of cardboard. The room was a mess with hot glue guns paints fabric scraps and oddly shaped foam pieces scattered everywhere

“What are you doing?” Rin asked with a curious expression. You looked up at him. With a smudge of paint on your face and messy hair you smiled brightly. “I’m working on a new cosplay. This is going to be a piece of armor” you said holding up the cardboard. Rin raised an eyebrow. “Armor? That thing needs a lot of work before it even looks like armor.”

“Don’t tease me!” you retorted. “This is just the base layer. It still needs painting hardening and detailing. Rin chuckled. “Alright alright. But why does the entire house look like a battlefield? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Though you looked a bit offended you could tell Rin was getting interested. “I watched some YouTube videos and read a few guides. It’s a bit challenging but I’m learning. Plus it’s fun”

Rin sat down next to you and picked up the piece of cardboard you were working on. “If you’re going to put in this much effort at least do it properly. You need to cut this cleanly with a craft knife” he said grabbing a knife and showing you how to do it

After that day Rin couldn’t help but get involved in your project. Sometimes he’d point out mistakes saying “You’re doing it wrong” and other times he’d grab a paintbrush to help you add finishing touches

When the cosplay was finally ready you put it on and showed Rin the completed look. As you posed excitedly you noticed the surprised look on his face. “Alright” he said after a moment “I thought it was silly at first but… it actually looks really good”

“Really?” you asked your eyes sparkling with hope. Rin shrugged. “Maybe. But after all that effort I guess I can’t say anything against it.” At the convention your armor caught everyone’s attention. People stopped you to take pictures and compliment your work. Rin stood a step behind you a small smile on his face keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure no one crossed any boundaries

Sae Itoshi

when you first mentioned your passion for cosplay he didn’t think much of it. “Cosplay? You mean dressing up as fictional characters?” he asked one day his tone calm but slightly curious “Exactly!” you replied with excitement. “It’s a lot more than just dressing up though. I design the outfits build props and sometimes even compete. It’s a hobby but it means a lot to me”

Sae gave a small nod. “If it’s important to you that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to dress up” You laughed at his response knowing it was his way of acknowledging your interests without diving too deeply

A few weeks later you were preparing for a convention. Your living room was a workshop with fabric glue guns and foam scattered everywhere. Sae walked in and paused his sharp gaze taking in the scene “You’ve been at this for hours” he commented setting his bag down

“Yup” you said not even looking up from the detailed painting you were doing on a prop. “The convention is in two days and I want this to be perfect” Sae sighed softly walking closer. “Does it really need to be this detailed? No one’s going to notice if it’s off by a little”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh they’ll notice. Trust me cosplayers have an eye for detail” He didn’t reply but leaned down to pick up one of the finished pieces. “It’s impressive” he admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize you made all of this yourself”

The day of the convention Sae offered to drive you there. As you stepped out of the car in your fully completed costume he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a moment. You looked stunning the outfit perfectly capturing the character you were portraying “You’re really into this aren’t you?” he said his voice softer than usual “I am” you replied with a bright smile. “And I love it”

At the convention Sae stayed in the background watching as people approached you for photos and compliments. He observed the way your face lit up every time someone admired your work. Despite his usual stoic demeanor he felt a subtle sense of pride

Later as you both sat down to eat he spoke up. “You’re talented. I don’t think I could have the patience to do something like that” You grinned. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” Sae smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head”

Kaiser Michael

“You dress up as fictional characters and make all this stuff yourself?” he asked, spinning one of your half-finished props in his hand like it was a trophy.“Yes, Michael” you replied, rolling your eyes at his tone. “It’s not just dressing up. It’s crafting, designing, and bringing something I love to life. And no, you can’t break that it took hours to make”

Kaiser smirked and placed the prop back carefully. “Relax. I’m just admiring your… creativity” A few days later, he strolled into the room while you were sewing fabric for your next costume. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and he leaned casually against the doorway, watching you work. “So, when’s this big event of yours?”

“This weekend” you answered, not looking up from your work “Perfect. I’ll clear my schedule” he said with a grin. You looked up at him, surprised. “You’re coming?”

“Of course” he said as if it were obvious. “I have to see how good you are at this. Besides, you’ll need someone to make sure your fans don’t get too close”

The day of the convention, Kaiser arrived in style, dressed impeccably as always. When he saw you in your finished cosplay, his usual cocky smirk shifted into something softer. “I’ll admit” he said, circling you like a critic. “You look incredible. Almost as good as me” “Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow “Fine” he said with a mock dramatic sigh. “You look better than me for now”

At the convention, Kaiser stayed by your side, his presence impossible to ignore. People stared as much at him as they did at you, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever someone asked for a photo with you, he’d step aside, arms crossed, observing like he was the one managing your image

“You know” he whispered at one point as you posed for a group shot. “You should’ve told me earlier. I’d have joined you in costume. Imagine us as a power duo unstoppable” You laughed, shaking your head. “This is my thing, Michael. You already have football”

“But you’re my girlfriend” he said with a wink. “That makes everything you do my thing too” By the end of the day, you were exhausted but happy. Kaiser drove you home, still talking about how “you stole the show” and how “everyone was lucky to witness your brilliance”

Enjoy!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader (past)

Summary: After last years incident you don't know if you can move on, but Wanda shows you how real love feels.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, Nat cheats

AU: Pietro is alive :D

Author's note: Merry Christmas! I wasn't planning on making another fic for Christmas, but I was listening to Christmas music while wrapping and well here you go~

Snow was gently falling in New York making everything feel more magical. All the decor was up, the tree fully lit at the Rockefeller center and people were bustling more than usual to get their Christmas shopping done. 

You were trying to pick a gift out for your secret Santa, Wanda. Tony did this every year for his holiday party. You really weren't in the mood for it this year, but you were trying…after last Christmas things didn't feel as magical. 

Last Year

“Come on Tasha! We're gonna be late if you take any longer on your make-up!” You playfully called out. She smirked at you through the mirror. 

“Don't worry Detka, we'll make it.” Her sultry voice wrapped around you. You looked her over as she stood; a tight short black dress, tights, heels to match. Her hair was pulled into a fancy braid she'd mentioned the name of earlier, but you couldn't remember it. 

The party was in full swing by the time you two arrived. You were in fact upset about it because Natasha knows how you hate to be late because of your anxiety. As soon as you set your gift on the table for secret Santa Natasha was gone in the crowd. Interacting with the boys and Maria. You frowned, but went to grab some finger foods and a drink while you found the twins and Vision. The three of them are talking about experiencing Christmas for the first time. 

You sat yourself next to Wanda with the boys across the table on another couch. The four of you talking for a bit before you realized Natasha hadn't come to find you. 

A pout covered your mouth as you got up, “I'll be back guys I'm gonna go check on Tasha.” You excused yourself making your way through the crowd of people, looking everywhere until in the corner of your eye, her dress caught your eye. Your head turning and the glass in your hand falling with a sharp crash to the tiled floor. 

Natasha was kissing Maria. 

You were noticed by many including Natasha who looked like she had regret on her face. Not for the kiss itself, but because she was caught. 

You walked out of that party and didn't look back. 

Present Day

You got yourself ready, looking over yourself in the mirror and then at the clock. You'd be a little early which was perfect. You grabbed your gift for Wanda. It was perfect for her. It was a few different things. 

Tony never had limits on how much to spend. If you got him as your secret Santa you could expect a car or a new place to live.

You got there, hugging Tony with a smile. “I'm surprised you decided to actually come. You even have your gift!” Tony said surprised. You gave him a roll of your eyes. 

“Yeah I wasn't sure if I'd come at first after last year I felt sick thinking about it and about seeing her. I gave her my heart Tony…she gave it away. I decided if I did come this year then…I'd give it to someone special…” you explained to him. Tony was like your annoying older brother. You told him a lot of your problems and he was happy to listen. 

He gave you another hug, a nice tight one where you could smell his cologne clearly, making your nose scrunch up a bit.

“Go get her.” He whispered before letting go. 

It was hours into the party. You'd spent the whole time with the twins. Vision had gone off to talk with Tony at some point and now it was time for secret Santa. You got up, grabbing your gift to Wanda and you were surprised to see she had you as well.

The two of you laughed, deciding to go find her old room in the tower so you two could have a quiet moment to open each other's gifts. 

You both sat across from each other, she was cross legged in her usual black skirt and thigh highs, a low cut tank top and a dark gray cardigan fell off one shoulder that she kept fixing. Rings adorned all her fingers, some having multiple. You smiled as you gave her your gift. 

“Open yours first Wands.” You insisted, making her giggle which had your stomach doing flips. Biting the inside of your cheek to try to hide the effect the witch had on you. 

She opened up the bag that contained a few wrapped gifts. 

“You didn't have to get me so much.” She said with her honeyed accent. 

“I couldn't decide…they all felt like they were perfect for you.” You saw the barely There blush that covered her cheeks as she refused to look up from unwrapping. 

You'd gotten her a new mug that said village witch with a little graphic of a witches hut, the smoke coming out of it a ghost. The next gift was a variety pack of different teas from around the world. The last gift you'd gotten her was a new set of tarot cards. 

“Oh y/n! These are amazing and I love them! I can't wait to try the teas and you're getting the first reading with this tarot deck.” She said, leaning forward to hug you tight. “Now it's your turn!” She squealed excitedly. 

You smiled, taking the gift from her, opening it up, your jaw dropped. You just stared for a minute, speechless before looking up at her. 

“You…you made me a burr basket?” you asked dumbfounded. 

You'd asked Natasha for boo baskets and burr baskets and she never got them or made them and it hurt every time. 

“Yeah you kept talking about them so I wanted to make you one. I hope I did it right. I watched a bunch of tiktoks on making them and how others had them.” She rambled out. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, there was a blanket, slippers, flannel pj's pants, a face mask, eye mask, a little holiday squishmallow, lip balm, your favorite perfume, and some seasonal chocolate. 

“W-Wands…I…i don't have words this is…I…” you physically couldn't form words. You looked up at her and realized the only thing you could do to say thank you was kiss her. 

You moved the gifts out of the way, crawling forward and letting your lips brush against hers, when she didn't pull away you pushed into her, letting your lips pressed together. Your hand cupped her cheek as her lips started to move against yours. 

When you both needed air you pulled back just a little, your foreheads touching. 

“I wasn't expecting that as a thank you, but I won't lie…I've been wanting you to kiss me like that since I came to America…” she confessed. How had you not noticed what was right in front of you this whole time?

“Wands…would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” You ask softly.

“I thought you'd never ask.” She practically growled before kissing you again. 

This wouldn't be like with Natasha. You knew this was different. You could feel it. 

She was your someone special.

[zyhkoo]

🦢 flaws and all

fluff, f!civilian, suggestive in second part, 1 + 2

( spending your days with him. )

Jason had just finished up patrol, he had been satisfied with his work but when he was about to head back the rain began to pour. Jason stood in the dim alleyway, the rain pouring down around him. He let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that he was in for a long, wet walk back to your apartment.

He cursed under his breath, his gaze flickering over the rooftops that seemed more slippery than usual with the rain.

Jason stood by the window your, the soaked bottoms of his boots leaving a damp trail on the floor as he shut the window behind him. Shaking off the excess water from his clothing, he took a moment to catch his breath.

Once the initial wave of cold and shivers had passed, he sighed and scanned the apartment for any possible damage. He noticed the drops of water that had leaked onto the floor, so he grabbed the mop that was leaning on a corner and began mopping the wet spots.

Jason walked toward your bedroom as quietly as possible, trying not to wake you up. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and began to strip off his damp and now heavy clothes, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud.

He reached into the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he had stashed a change of clothes for nights like this. He rummaged through and found some comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, quickly putting them on.

Jason heard the loud thunder rumble outside, the sound cutting through the silence of the night. He winced, his heightened senses making the sound even more pronounced in his ears.

He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting towards the window. The rain continued to pour, the raindrops tapping against the glass in an almost rhythmic pattern.

He could hear shifting in the sheets, Jason turned his attention back into the room, his eyes locking onto the bed. He hadn't expected you to be awake, "You awake?" he asked.

“Yeah.” you softly answered, pulling the sheets closer. Jason felt a pang of guilt as you spoke, realizing that he must have disturbed your sleep. He stepped closer to the bed, his feet not making a sound on the floorboards.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I didn't mean to wake you." you shook your head, “It’s not you.” you replied.

Jason frowned, not quite believing your words.

"Then what is it?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, but he tried not to disturb you. Jason was silent for a moment, listening to the sound of the thunder outside. Then it clicked in his mind. He knew that you had some issues with storms, and he was mentally berating himself for not thinking of it sooner

He sighed, his hand hesitantly reaching for your shoulder under the covers. He moved closer to you, his touch gentle as he squeezed your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"It's just a storm," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "It'll pass soon."

“I know..” you said, Jason was aware that you knew that the storm would pass. He knew you were probably just trying to convince yourself of that. But he also knew that it didn't make it any less frightening. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "You want company?" he asked.

Jason felt a small sense of relief when you nodded, with a small sigh, he moved to the other side of the bed and slowly laid down next to you. As Jason settled onto the bed, he turned his gaze onto you. Your body was concealed under the blankets, revealing only your face and a portion of your hair.

Your eyes met his, and his attention was drawn to the pillow you were clutching. He remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a soft yet steady voice.

"Come here," he murmured, his hand motioning for you to move closer to him. Jason patted the spot on the mattress next to him, silently inviting you to move closer. He knew that sometimes, being held could help provide a sense of comfort and security during a storm.

Jason felt your arm wrap around his waist, pulling yourself against his body. He let out a soft exhale, welcoming your touch. He moved his own arm to drape around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer as he tried to provide some comfort through his presence.

You sighed against him as you laid your head on his chest, “Thanks Jay.” you murmured. A storm with him around made it more tolerable. He could feel your breath, against his skin. He swallowed, his throat feeling unusually dry as he responded, "Mhm."

Your word of thanks resonated with him. He knew you found comfort in his presence, and it made him feel relieved. He tightened his hold on you slightly, his fingers unconsciously tracing patterns on your back as he spoke in a hushed tone.

"You don't need to thank me," he muttered, "Just... let me do this for you." he paused for a moment, his voice soft yet firm as he continued, "Just let me be here for you, okay?" you nodded, “Okay.” you whispered back.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. He found it ironic, really, how the most dangerous and feared vigilante in Gotham could be reduced to a soft person in the presence of one person.

“You make me feel stuff.” he said. Jason's gaze met yours as you looked up at him. “Is it bad?” you asked. "No, it's not bad." He reached up to gently cup your face, his calloused fingers caressing your skin. "It's just... new." he admitted, his voice a deep and gruff whisper.

"I've never... felt like this before." he continued, his fingers tracing your jawline. "With anyone." He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to convey the depth of what he was feeling. You softly scoffed, “It can’t be just me, there must be someone else.” you replied.

Jason let out a low huff, shaking his head slightly. "Trust me." he said, his fingers still gently tracing your skin. "There's nobody else." He paused again, his gaze not wavering from yours. "It's just you, and the things you do to me." You looked down, doubting him “Are you sure it’s me?” you asked.

Jason frowned at your question, his grip on your face firm but gentle.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, as he tilted your head up, wanting you to look at him. “Just..” your eyes darted away, “I’m usually just second choice you know?”

He shook his head, his grip on your face tightening just a fraction. "No." he said firmly, his voice low and fierce. "Not with me."

He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone softening but still firm. "You are not a second choice. Not to me." you flushed as your eyes softened, “You really mean it don’t you?” Jason leaned in, his face just a few inches away from yours. He held your gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

"Yes." he said firmly, no trace of doubt or hesitation in his voice. "I mean it. You are not second choice. You are the only choice." He let go of your face, but instead of pulling away, his hand moved down to take yours under the covers, his fingers intertwined with yours.

Your hands shook a bit as you felt a lump in your throat, “I..” Jason noticed the slight tremble in your hand and the way your voice cracked. He could see the emotion in your eyes and wanted nothing more than to reassure you.

He brought your intertwined hands up, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand before lowering them again. "You don't have to say anything." he murmured. He shifted his body slightly, pulling you closer to his chest as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. With his free hand, he reached down and pulled the covers back up to your shoulders, cocooning the two of you in warmth and comfort.

The storm continued to rage outside, the rain still beating mercilessly against the roof and windows. But trapped in Jason's embrace, wrapped in the coziness of the covers, you felt a newfound sense of safety and reassurance.

“I love you.” you murmured. Jason felt his heart skip a beat as the words left your lips. He held you a bit tighter in response, his arms wrapping around you like a protective shield. His gruff voice was softer than usual as he murmured, "I love you too."

Jason slowly stirred awake, his eyes blinking open as he felt the warmth of your bare back against his chest. He let out a low sigh, still half-asleep but slowly becoming aware of his surroundings.

He felt your legs intertwined with his and the familiar scent of your skin filling his senses. The morning light streamed in through the window, casting a soft glow into the room. Still drowsy, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck.

The feeling of your soft skin against his chest was comforting, and the warmth of your body against his brought a sense of peace. Jason let out a low, contented sigh as he gently nuzzled your neck again, his lips brushing against your skin in a light, affectionate kiss.

You hummed, “I’m awake you know.” you murmured with a little chuckle

Jason felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he heard you speak. He pulled his face away from your neck, slightly flustered at being caught. He mumbled into your ear, "Thought you were sleepin'."

Jason shifted slightly behind you, pressing his body a bit closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before mumbling again, his voice slightly muffled against your skin, "Why you up so early?"

“The light woke me up.” you yawned, scratching your eye. Jason hummed in understanding, his cheek resting against your shoulder as he held you close. "Guess the sun had to ruin it." he grumbled, his arm giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

You then faced him, “Last night was nice.” Jason met your gaze as you turned to face him. He nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, it was." he replied, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your hip.

Jason's eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in and gave you a slow, lingering kiss. The touch was soft and affectionate, his lips moving against yours with a gentle pressure.

He pulled away after a few moments, his gaze remaining on your face as he studied your expression. His thumb traced small circles on the bare skin of your waist, the gesture comforting and subtle.

You chuckled, “You’ve gotten sappy.” Jason rolled his eyes, a hint of embarrassment showing on his face. "Whatever." he muttered. Jason was still not used to waking up next to someone else, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin a new and slightly unfamiliar sensation.

Your eyes trail to the numerous scars from his body, all from his past battles and patrols. You knew that he was self-conscious every time you looked at them. Jason tensed ever so slightly as he noticed your gaze on his scars. Despite his tough exterior and stoic demeanor, he was still self-conscious of his body and the scars that marked his skin.

He shifted slightly, a subtle movement intended to distract you from the imperfections on his body. Jason's eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction. He knew you had seen the scars on his body, and he had no doubt you'd seen his visible discomfort with them. But he also knew you never asked about them, never pressed for explanations of how he got them.

Jason felt your touch on the small scar on his shoulder, your fingers tracing it gently. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes fixed on yours as he allowed you to caress the mark.

His body relaxed, though he still felt a bit uneasy with the attention on his scars. Your hand continued to explore his scars, there were long and small ones, some stitched and some burnt, Though you never flinched or reacted in disgust.

You then looked back at his face, searching for his eyes “Are you okay?” you asked, in case he Jason met your gaze, his features softened by the concern in your eyes. He took a moment before answering, his voice low and gruff.

"I'm fine." he said, his arm around your waist tightening its grip ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself of your presence.

He swallowed and shifted a bit, his eyes flickering down to your hand, still tracing his scars. was uncomfortable. “Should I stop?” you continued to ask. Jason sighed, his gaze darting between your face and your hand tracing his scars. A part of him didn't want you to stop, your touch was comforting and reassuring, but another part feared the memories that could be stirred by it.

"Do what you want," he murmured, “Well I want what you want.” you replied. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry as he struggled to find the right words.

"I want your touch." he admitted, his voice husky. "But sometimes it brings back bad memories." Your hand moved away, “So should I stop?” Jason felt a pang of disappointment as your hand moved away from his scars, the absence of your touch leaving a cold, empty feeling on his chest.

He shook his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours again.

"No." he said gruffly. "I don't want you to stop." He paused before continuing, "Just don't... don't pity me." You shook your head, “I won’t.” your hand then trails to the scars on his chest.

As you saw a particularly large one, you moved down and placed a kiss. He swallowed, his chest rising and falling slowly as he felt the weight of your gesture, the way you accepted and accepted his scars without a second thought.

His hand moved to your hair, gently brushing through the soft strands, a silent thank you for your understanding. “Let’s dress up and eat breakfast.” you murmured in his chest.

Jason chuckled softly, a hint of relief in his voice. He knew you were changing the subject on purpose, giving him a chance to compose himself. "Yeah, sounds good." he agreed, his hand gently rubbing your back before pulling away from your embrace.

He started to sit up, grabbing the discarded clothes from the night before.

You sat on the floor, surrounded by your record collection, scanning through the albums with a growing sense of boredom. You had listened to all of them repeatedly, and the thought of playing them again was no longer appealing.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the boredom settling over you. Just as your eyes lingered on a record you had played a dozen times, the sound of a deep throat being cleared, made your head turn towards Jason.

He watched you for a moment, his eyes trailing over the record collection spread out around you. "You're gonna pick one already? It’s been a while." he asked, his eyebrow raised slightly.

You huffed to yourself as you placed a hand on your cheek, “I’m pretty bored of these, they’re good but I’m tired of listening to it repeatedly.” Jason’s expression softened slightly, seeing the boredom etched on your face. He walked over, standing over you as you sat on the floor.

He looked at the spread of records, then back at you.

"Didn’t know you could even get tired of music," he said with a hint of a smirk. You smiled up at him, “Well, it happens to me too.”

You sighed, shaking your head “More than 30 bucks for a vinyl? I don’t have the money for that..” you frowned as you picked up your records. Jason knew you loved physical media, but you were right. New records were expensive, especially ones you liked.

Jason studied the records you were holding, taking in the names and artists. He paused for a moment, thinking before speaking again. "I’ll get you albums.” You only scoffed in reply, “Where do you even get your money?”

Jason raised an eyebrow at your scoff, a playful smirk forming on his face. "Where do you think I get it?" he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of amusement.

You darted your eyes away pondering, if he was a vigilante… does he get his money from the government? “GCPD…?” you answered cautiously.

"GCPD?" he repeated, snorting. "You think I get money from the *GCPD?"* You looked away embarrassingly as you stocked your records on the shelves. Jason’s smirk widened at your embarrassed expression, enjoying the way you avoided his gaze.

He leaned against the shelf, his arms crossed as he watched you organize the records. "C’mon," he teased, his voice filled with playful mockery. "Guess again." You huffed, “I don’t know, tell me.” Jason pushed himself off the shelf, standing upright as he spoke.

"I spend Bruce’s bank account, or I steal a few stuff from thieves I caught.” Jason gave a shrug, as if the thought of swiping money from a billionaire was the most normal thing in the world.

You raised your brow, “Money from Bruce?”

"Yeah, Bruce has a lot more money than one person could spend in a lifetime. He won’t even notice if I grab a few bucks."

You thought for a moment, “Well, I mean.. that is true.” Jason nodded in agreement, his smirk returning slightly.

"See? It’s a no-brainer. Why not use it when it’s there for the taking?" his hand touches your shoulder “Come on, why don’t I buy those record albums for you tomorrow?” You raised an eyebrow in surprise. Jason was actually offering to buy you records, and you had to admit, the idea did sound appealing.

"Really? You would do that?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Jason shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Why not? They make you happy, don’t they?” You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. The idea that Jason was willing to spend money on something that simply brought you joy was oddly comforting.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "They do, yeah.” Jason saw the smile on your face, and his expression softened. He gave your shoulder a slight squeeze with his hand, his grip gentle. “Then I’ll take you record shopping tomorrow."

When Jason took you to the record store, you looked like a kid getting its gift for Christmas. He was amused by the look of excitement on your face as you scanned the records, your eyes scanning each album with childlike wonder.

He followed you around, watching as you picked up records of your favorite artists, and sometimes stopping to show him one that particularly caught your interest.

He couldn't help but smile at your enthusiasm. You looked like a kid at Christmas, and the way you handled each album with such care and reverence was almost endearing.

After that, you and Jason finally made it back to your apartment, clutching several bags filled with your newly purchased records. You wasted no time in setting them down on the coffee table in the living room, eager to go through each one and see which one you wanted to listen to first.

“This is what I call mid-year christmas.” you mused with a smile. Jason scoffs, "Mid-year Christmas, huh?" he said. "I guess that’s one way to put it." Jason rested his hand on his chin, watching as you flipped through your new albums, a small smile on his lips.

For a brief moment, he could forget about the world around them, the troubles and dangers that loomed in the background. For a little while, he could simply enjoy the sight of you being happy, with the music you so adored.

You stood up and carefully placed one of the vinyl records onto the turntable, the soft click as it settled into place filling the air. Jason leaned back on the couch, his eyes still fixed on you, as you gently lifted the needle and placed it on the record, starting the music.

Jason stood up alongside you, his hand reaching out to take yours.

He looked down at your face for a moment before pulling you closer, his other hand finding your waist. He began to move with the rhythm of the music, slowly dancing with you in the living room. The room felt warm and intimate as you swayed to the music in Jason’s arms. He held you close, his hand resting on your waist as he led you in a slow, gentle dance.

The music played on in the background, the notes and lyrics filling the silence between you as you moved in each other’s embrace. “Did you agree to buy me records just to dance?” you chuckled.

“Maybe. You’re not complaining, are you?” he replied as he held your hand tighter, “But no.” he said. You tilted your head in response as Jason leaned closer to you, "Maybe I just like seeing you happy," he admitted.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he spoke, his words making you feel tingly all over. You hadn't expected such a sincere answer from him, and it filled you with a sense of warmth.

"That's sweet." you murmured, a smile playing across your lips. "Just a little." he grumbled, his eyes locked on your face. “Sure.” you said, leaning your cheek on his chest.

He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he continued to dance with you.

🐇 Merry Christmas!

[makeyoumine69]

Merry Christmas, Bitch!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: On your way to the American Gardens Building for your family's Christmas party, you suddenly meet a mysterious man from the 11th floor, unaware that your days were already numbered the moment he set his eyes on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NONCON smut, dark angst, sedating, kidnapping, blood play & kink, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, spitting, multiple orgasms, rough vaginal and anal sex, creampie, dumbification, humiliation, vaginal & butt plugs, sex torture, canonical violence, sex toys, swearing, dirty talk, pet names, masturbating, pussy slapping, nipple play, finger sucking and maybe something more.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 6k

𝐀/𝐍: Merry Christmas everyone! Since the dark option won the poll for the Christmas Special, I brought you this, hehe! I hope you enjoy it, but please read the warnings first!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

Christmas Eve was one of the busiest times of the year when people would go shopping like crazy and all the stores were so crowded that sometimes you had to spend a lot of time standing in line, but that was something you got used to because it was not a big problem at all. What was really a problem was the fact that you had to work during Christmas and that was really frustrating even though your parents tried to reassure you that they would wait for you and wouldn't start celebrating. That was really sweet of them, but it didn't really help with your exhaustion after a long day at work, and you still had to buy something for Christmas, which completely slipped off your mind - you loved making presents for your family, but oh, sometimes it was so hard to guess what present would really surprise them.

Walking down the street one block away from the American Gardens Building—a place where your parents lived—you stopped at the ATM to get some cash, and from that moment on you had the feeling that someone was watching you, but every time you turned around you saw no one. Although it was not very late, the streets were pretty empty, so when you accidentally bumped into a stranger while walking away from the ATM, you got really scared, but after a brief exchange of apologies, you and the stranger, who turned out to be an old man, walked off in different directions. Still, something was nagging at you, a strange fear, the nature of which you couldn't really comprehend.

A little later, you realized that most of the stores were already closed, so buying a gift was not really an option—you would have to do it tomorrow—but at least you managed to get some flowers for your mother. Soon you reached the American Gardens building—an embodiment of luxury that towered over the streets like a silent sentinel. Holding a bouquet of flowers and opening the heavy door that refused to let you through suddenly became a challenge for you, if not for the mysterious stranger who appeared out of nowhere.

"Need some help?" The man asked, and somewhere you recognized that deep, velvety voice. 

As you turned, you set your eyes on the handsome young man holding a briefcase in one hand and a cigar in the other. "Oh, that would be much appreciated," you replied, watching as he gallantly opened the door for you. "The doorman is probably off today."

"Pretty sure he does, it's Christmas," he said, and you both went in, passing the concierge, who nodded politely when he saw the two of you. "Do you live here? I think I’ve definitely met you before.”

As you walked through the polished lobby to the elevators, his question made you wonder where else you could see him other than here, since he seemed to live here, but then a flash of memories pierced through your head like a bunch of small fireworks.

"Patrick Bateman, right?" You smiled and pressed the flowers closer to your chest as you both stood by the elevators, waiting. "I don't live here, but my parents do," the man gave you a cheerful grin, and then the elevator arrived with a characteristic ding. "I remember you used to talk to my dad about some communal problems and stuff."

"Oh, right! Now I totally remember."

 As you both entered the elevator and the door closed smoothly behind you, Patrick leaned against the metal wall right next to the control panel, while you stood almost right next to the door, the bouquet of white roses feeling the enclosed space with their sweet scent. 

"What floor do you live on?" You asked as the elevator began its ascent.

"Eleventh," Bateman replied briefly, rummaging in the pocket of his trench coat with a rustle. "Just above the floor where your family lives."

Standing half-turned, you could see his looming figure beside you in the reflection of the gleaming metal door of the elevator, and though your inner voice screamed that something was definitely wrong, you couldn't move, as if paralyzed by an invisible spell.

Subtly, Patrick slipped the white piece of cloth out of his pocket, though his face was still blank, not a single muscle twitching, as the mask he wore was practiced to perfection, making it impossible for anyone around to read what was on his mind.

"Hmmm, you surprised me," he murmured suddenly, slowly approaching you. "I really thought you would recognize me right away."

"I have a bad memory for faces," your breathing hitched as you said that. "Meeting too many people every day doesn't help."

Tensed to the limit, you looked up at the small display where the floor numbers changed one by one, and when you finally saw the tenth floor, you felt relieved, but it was too premature, because the doors didn't open. A bone chilling fear crept into your chest, your heart beating fast against your ribcage, and the second you heard Bateman move behind your back, you were on the verge of screaming— unfortunately it was too late.

With a practiced motion, the man pressed a piece of cloth over your mouth. "Shhhh," he grabbed your trembling little form, giving you no chance to fight him, for he was much stronger, much bigger, and the strange odor that filled your nostrils made you see black holes between your eyes. "You don't want anyone to hear you...especially your dear family."

You tried desperately to hit him with the bouquet, but the harder you struggled, the tighter he held you in his arms. The second tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, your consciousness too fuzzy to think rationally, you realized that you were slowly passing out, but the rush of adrenaline was still kicking in.

"Mmhhm!" You squealed as loud as you could, your hands squashing the flowers with a deadly grip, their sharp thorns sinking into your soft skin, but you couldn't feel it anymore. "Mmhm-help!"

Annoyed, the man clenched his teeth and grabbed your throat, almost strangling you here and there as he realized the chemical he used was not enough to knock you out. "If you don't shut your damn mouth," Patrick hissed, pulling you against his strong torso. "I'll break your fucking neck!"

Sobbing into the fabric now drenched in your tears and saliva, your eyes began to roll back in your head as your body slowly but surely went limp, and then you lost your grip on the bouquet, letting it fall to your feet on the elevator floor. Sensing that you were on the verge of fainting, Bateman increased the force of his grip around your neck, pinching the carotid artery until you finally lost consciousness, going weak in his hands like a broken doll.

With a weary sigh, the man kicked the flowers aside, scooped you closer in his arms, and stroked your face with a devilish smile that played on his smug face—a dark gleam sparkled in his dark, mad eyes. "Good girl," he purred into your ear, knowing you couldn't hear him anymore, giving you a light peck on the top of your head before lifting you up and pressing the 11th floor button on the control panel. "Say goodbye to your fucking parents, princess." With those words, Patrick took your hand and waved at the closed elevator door, while his other hand was busy pushing the handkerchief into your mouth to use as a gag in case you suddenly woke up.

Almost a month ago.

It was the last weekend of November and you decided to pay a visit to your family since you hadn't seen them in a long time. Your mother didn't even let you say a word when you entered the apartment because she was so excited to see you, but when you noticed an unfamiliar voice coming from the dining room, you stopped in your tracks and gave the old lady a confused look.

"I didn't know you had guests besides me," you said, taking off your coat. "Who is that?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's Mr. Bateman, he's our neighbor," your mother replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. "He just came by to talk to your father about the problems with the central heating."

Frowning, you didn't say anything in response, just followed your mother down the hall, and soon after you turned the corner, you took a moment to examine this "neighbor", not really noticing that he was looking at you in the same curious way.

This staring contest continued for some time until your father noticed your presence and gestured to the dining table for you to join them. "Don't stand there, darling. There's no need to be shy," he said, waving you over—you didn't know how to refuse in this situation, so you just obeyed. "Patrick, this is my dear daughter!"

As soon as your father said your name, Patrick gave you a toothy smile before taking your palm in his and planting a soft kiss on it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't even find the right words to reply, but your mother came out of nowhere with the tray of drinks and treats like your savior. The old lady placed the cups of freshly brewed coffee, a bowl of candies and various cookies, small milk chocolates and some truffles. Then she returned to the kitchen, excusing herself that she had to finish cooking dinner.

"So you guys have some serious communal issues here or what?" You asked, sipping your coffee and trying to escape Bateman's scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, I have to say that our utilities are in no hurry to correct the situation," Patrick explained, his hazel eyes tracing your face and then your lips as if he were deliberately humiliating you. "I heard that people on the second floor saw some rats."

"Rats?" You asked in disbelief. "I can't believe it! You're practically living in the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan."

Your father sighed and put his hands on the table. "It's New York, darling. It's possible that our utility company just doesn't have enough money to maintain our building."

After your father finished his rant about the hard life in New York and how sometimes even rich people could have mundane problems like that, there was a brief moment of silence that was broken by your mother, who reentered the dining room with a phone in her hand. 

"Honey, your doctor is calling," she chirped, getting everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Uh, please excuse me," the old man got up from the table and took the phone. "I'll be right back."

With that, your parents left the dining room, and for a moment, you had a panic attack—this man, Patrick Bateman, whose lips curled even more after the two of you were left alone, made you feel uncomfortable, but you couldn't even tell why.

Coughing nervously, you took another sip of coffee to clear your throat. "So," you began after the pause had become unforgivably long. "How are you going to celebrate Christmas?" God, that was probably the stupidest and most primitive question you ever asked, but your brain just refused to work properly. "People used to plan such things in advance."

Bateman raised the mug to his lips and looked at you over the rim. "Let me think," unlike you he drank black tea and never even touched any sweets. "Probably going to some Christmas party. No big deal though." The man licked his lips after another sip, and that gesture sent a tingle through your core that forced you to avert your eyes. "What about you? Pretty ladies like you usually spend Christmas with their loved ones?"

You almost choked on your coffee, choosing not the best time to take another refreshing sip, just to do something instead of sitting idle. "I...uh...to be honest, I don't...don't have any particular company for this Christmas, and besides, I have to work, so..."

"Really? Work? Oh, that sucks," Patrick complained worriedly. "Our government should make it illegal to work on Christmas."

Damn, this man was blessed with charisma and a gab that made you feel like a schoolgirl on her first date. 

"Yeah, you're right," you managed to say, not really able to hide the broad smile that appeared on your face. "They definitely should."

A metallic, salty smell filled your nostrils. It took several attempts to finally open your eyes, as the lids seemed so heavy, as if they each weighed a ton. Blinking in confusion from the surrounding darkness, you suddenly felt something dripping on you—a warm, slightly sticky liquid, but when you managed to focus your vision, you noticed that it seemed to be red in color, and then you screamed, but you couldn't hear your voice as something tightly covered your mouth. After a few soft footsteps, a familiar voice echoed through the room, but you couldn't tell where exactly.

"Welcome back," Patrick crooned, stopping somewhere not far away when you heard his voice more clearly. "You had me worried," he said as he turned on the switch and the blinding light made your eyes water from its sharpness and you could finally look around to find yourself lying on the bed in a spacious room with white walls. "Because for a moment I thought you would never wake up."

Weeping quietly, you tried to move your limbs, but it didn't work either, because something was holding you tight. With all the strength you had left, you craned your neck to see a red ribbon wrapped around you, the way Christmas presents were usually wrapped, and you realized that the red liquid was blood...your blood? The thought almost made you vomit, but the duct tape on your mouth stopped you from making any sound.

"Do you like the ribbon? I think red really suits you, although I was thinking of picking something more innocent for you...pink or white or maybe beige," the man kept muttering in a casual tone that only added to the creepiness of the situation. "Oh, I forgot you can't talk," Bateman giggled, slowly sauntering across the room holding something shiny in his hands. "I got rid of your clothes because you looked like shit in them."

Damn it, did he really dare to do that? Tugging at the ribbon with your hands, you closed your eyes tightly, denying that everything here was real - you just needed to find a way to wake up from this nightmare.

But Patrick had other plans, and giving you a break was definitely not one of them, as he quickly rushed to the bed and hovered over you, pressing something sharp against your mound, and then you felt a searing pain as a cold metal cut your skin, as if you were not made of flesh and bones, but of some wax.

"Mhwwww," you cried in pain, jerking on the bed as you heard the oilcloth rustle beneath you. A small scarlet trail of your hot blood ran down your hip after another cut. No matter how hard you tried to free yourself, Bateman knew what he was doing, as the ribbon was securing you just the way he wanted , but still you were writhing as if you were lying on the burning coals. "Mmhm-ple-lease," you managed to whimper through the tape as it became soaked with your saliva. "S-s-t-top," your legs trembled uncontrollably as the man lowered the knife to your now exposed cunt, sliding the blade along your salacious folds but never pressing too hard. "Please-se."

You could even recognize your own voice because of how badly it was distorted. The fact that this psycho was waiting for you to wake up so that you could feel and see everything he was going to do to you made you so disgusted that you almost bit your own tongue. It would be much better if he just killed you and you could only guess what monstrous things he was going to do to you.

"What a pretty little pussy you have," Patrick grinned to himself, the knife still pointed at your womanhood. "When was the last time you had sex?" His question—so full of mockery and disgust, but he was so damn proud of it—remained unanswered, and he didn't bother to ask you again, because in reality he certainly didn't give a fuck. "You're dripping... and bleeding. I hope you know what that means? Luckily, we still have some time before you bleed out completely."

With his eyes still on you, Bateman got up from the bed and brought the knife to his mouth to lick your blood and flavor from it, savoring the taste—you could swear you heard him moan with satisfaction and that sound sent chills all over your body. That was insane. That was wrong. That was sick. And you were the witness to this depravity—you were literally the victim placed on the altar to satisfy all the dark needs of this beast.

Slowly, Patrick got rid of his suit, then his luxury loafers and garters. When the silk boxers were the only thing left on him, the man stopped and, unfortunately for you, walked back to you, but without actually getting on the bed, the man lifted his leg and placed it on the edge of the mattress next to your feet to get a prosper look at your naked, tortured, bleeding frame.

"People usually give each other presents for Christmas," he chimed in suddenly. "And since you already gave me a present," he pointed at your quivering figure lying beneath him. "You can ask me for anything," Bateman sneered in a teasing initiation. "But no cheating, you can't just ask me to let you go."

Panting, you closed your eyes for a fleeting second to consider the possible outcomes and whether you had any chance of getting out alive. Considering the circumstances—probably not. At one point, you even thought that asking him to give you a quick death was the best option, but then you reassured yourself that it was too early to give up.

Rocking from side to side, you mumbled something incoherently through the handmade gag, causing a hearty laugh to break out from Patrick's broad chest. "What is it, honey? Would you like me to remove it?" He leaned down to run his finger along your covered mouth. "All right, all right," he smiled wickedly and tugged at the edge of the tape. "But think twice before you say anything if you don't want it shoved down your throat."

A brief sting of pain rippled through your system as he removed the damned piece of tape and you were finally able to breathe properly, too close to choke on your own saliva. Never stopping to grin, the man stepped back to the floor and gave you an impatient stare in anticipation of your begging.

"You... c-can do whatever you want to me, but please... don't touch my family, sir." Every syllable you said took a lot of strength, but when you finished, Bateman couldn't hold back a wicked, maniacal chuckle. 

"Holy shit," he grinned wildly, a knife still in one of his hands while another darted across the toned muscles of his chest before it reached his briefs and he grabbed his groin, rubbing his rock hard dick through the expensive material. "I can't remember the last time someone called me sir as sexy as that, you're something, little one," and with that Patrick finally raked his underwear down to free his thick cock, which sprang out like a fucking arrow. "See, I don't give a fuck about your family," his eyebrows furrowed as he began to stroke himself, the swollen tip already drooling with his pre-cum, which he smeared all over his shaft to smooth the friction. "And I'm gonna have my way with you in every possible scenario. So... enjoy the ride and try not to bleed out before I'm done with you."

Bateman quickly pulled his boxers back and got on top of you, and you began to thrash around on the bed with reckless abandon, giving it everything you had.  "You... fucking monster... they will find you and lock you up in prison. You..." His big palm covered your mouth harshly, silencing you as if you were a little bug. In the end, Patrick sealed your mouth with the same duct tape, although it wasn't that sticky, he didn't care because the next thing he did was get up and walk out of the bedroom into another room.

For a moment you thought he went for some deadly weapons like scalpel and he was going to dissect you, cut out your intestines and fucking eat them while you were still alive. But then music began to play somewhere in the distance—a male vocal that was so familiar, but your tormented mind couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

Within a few seconds, the motherfucker was back, this time holding a strange bundle of wires and electronic chips—you watched him in undisguised horror, even though your neck was in excruciating pain from being in such a crooked position.

"Listen to this masterpiece," he hummed mostly to himself as he placed his belongings next to your bound limbs. "Have you heard it before?" Bateman's question forced you to try to roll onto your side, but your body just wouldn't listen. "This is one of my personal favorites by Genesis. 'Land of Confusion'—an epic meditation on intangibility, you can get the meaning of this song from the opening lines alone."

All the while, the man was attaching some clamps to your nipples, which were hard from the cool air in the room. What was this thing? Was he going to burn you with electricity or something? Until you were nothing but ashes. Just the thought of it made your eyes water in a new wave of panic—you didn't want to die, you didn't want to be here—you tried to think of your family, but it only made things worse. Patrick literally sang the lyrics of the song in a soft, peaceful way, like he was doing something casual, but not torturing a poor woman he had knocked out and then kidnapped. The clamps he put on your little tips were connected by wires to a small device that looked like a TV controller, with a precise movement he placed another clamp between your legs, he had to lose the ribbon a bit to spread your hips, and after he pinched your clit, he placed a small clamp right there and pressed it hard into your flesh.

"Mhmm," you let out a muffled gasp as he finished his wicked preparation. "Mmm-please..d-don't do that!"

Biting his lower lip, Bateman picked up the device to press the button and then you felt an electric shock pierce through every little pitch of your body, but it was not real electricity, it was the pulsation that set all your nerve endings on fire. Although you tried to close your legs and avoid the vibration—it seemed to be impossible as Patrick prepared all this absolutely perfectly, he knew how you would try to act, he knew exactly how he had to tie you up.

"Not exactly what you expected?" The man chuckled, watching in pure awe as you twitched along the oilcloth, your chapped skin itching with every frantic move, but you didn't care because you were about to bite into that damn tape from that strange sensation that was coiling in your gut. "'Looking good, princess... but this mode is for weaklings. You can do better, right?"

The man took his previous position beside the bed, but this time he took off his briefs completely, his dick throbbing, so full of blood and the moment he grabbed it, every vein on it tensed, ready to burst.  

"Ah-fuck," he groaned, pumping himself faster and faster, every move of his hand greedy and desperate as the muffled sounds you made only fueled him more and more. "You whimper so sweetly, girl."

Tilting his head, Bateman switched the vibration to another mode that was much more intense, making you want to pass out, your pussy now soaking wet from your flavor, your blood drying a bit, now draping your skin in a crimson ornament.

"A-awwhhhhh," you managed to cry out through the gag, your hands aching so badly from being tied up like that for such a long time, but the way those fucking little clamps were working you up, sending millions of little needles into the bundles of your nerves, was something you couldn't handle. "Mmhm-turn it-t off!"

The tape was only partially covering your mouth now because the moisture from your mouth made it so wet, but Patrick didn't care even if you started to scream louder— it seemed like everything was going according to his plan. With the grace of a predator, he stood in front of your trembling legs to spread them, and in one smooth motion, he plunged two fingers at once, curling and twisting them to find the right spot that would make you explode. 

"Easy, easy," he cooed as he dipped his long fingers deeper until he reached the spongy joint inside your throbbing slit, and then Bateman began to rub it more persistently. "Your cunt wants to break my fingers or what? Uh, so greedy...starving for a good fuck."

Patrick's words triggered something that was hiding at the very bottom of your sophisticated mind—something you never knew about—it unsettled you in every possible way, both physically and mentally.

The moment of your orgasm could be compared to a waterfall that broke everything in its path, it was unstoppable and brutal, but the torturing vibration didn't stop, nor did Bateman, in fact he did just the opposite, the second he felt you clench around his fingers, the man began to move them faster, scissoring them, then burying them deep down to the knuckles, continuing to stimulate you in this way, feeling the vibration of the torturing device that coursed through your clit, adding to the whole mess. 

"Mhmm-enough!" Your voice sounded even louder than a scream, it was a fucking cry for mercy. "Please...please...p-please-"

As soon as he added another finger, you climaxed again, this time even more vividly and you nearly choked on your spit, you stuck out your tongue involuntarily, your eyes rolled back in your head, but as if that was not enough, you felt an overwhelming, strange sensation in your lower abdomen and before you knew it, you were squirting so hard that everything underneath you was soaked. 

Watching you gush like a fucking fountain, Bateman couldn't help but grin in dark satisfaction. "Look at you, literally pissing yourself from how good I make you feel."

Completely out of breath, you made no protest as he hovered over your face to kiss you through the wet tape, his tongue sliding along the edge but not going deeper, and that was only a matter of time. With a raspy groan, Patrick removed the gag completely, leaving itchy marks on your skin, but you were too stunned to react, to resist, to fucking breathe?

"Let's see if you can take my dick as well as you took my fingers," he brushed his fat cock against your wet opening, feeling the aftershocks still running through your inner muscles. "You little filthy bitch," his heavy, bulky body pressed you down like a fucking stone, making it impossible to move. "Every little hole of yours is mine to ruin now." And then he bit your cheek, almost taking a chunk out, you screamed, but he silenced you with his finger, shoving it so deep that you gagged in response, while he kept grinding against your abused body to make you feel how heavy his balls were, so fucking tight and full of cum. 

Despite your urge to bite his finger, all you could do was whimper around it as Bateman's large palm landed on your overstimulated pussy, the vibration never ceasing to take everything out of you, but the slaps made you cum again before the man aligned himself with you and slowly but possessively sheathed his cock inside you.

“Look at me,” he spat into your face and yanked your hair, almost scratching your scalp. “Fucking whore…pretending being so innocent and all for what?” Patrick pulled his finger out from your mouth only to kiss you hard on your lips, plunging his tongue inside of it, licking it out and sucking on your lips while his strong hips were bucking against yours, his cock so huge that it easily reached your cervix and it hurt so bad. “Only for me to make you moan like a slut!”

Opening your mouth wide, the man spit into it before plugging it again with his thumb. As much as you hated to admit that your body was enjoying the curve of his dick brushing against your already too sensitive G-spot, you couldn't stop yourself from cumming, even though the multiple orgasms were about to kill you. When Bateman found the remote again, without even looking, he set the speed to maximum and threw it away, only to stop abruptly and pull out. That was the little pause you craved, the fleeting second to catch your breath, but it didn't last long as he cupped your breasts and squeezed them painfully, your nipples about to explode from the crazy level of stimulation.

"Mmm...are they natural?" Bateman asked before slapping both of your tits and then squeezing them again. "It would be such a waste if you died right now."

The mischievous grin on his face changed to something more animalistic, but your vision was nothing but a white, shocking veil. With practiced ease, Patrick flipped you onto your stomach and positioned you on all fours, pressing your head flat against the mattress. The man had to tear the ribbon that held your legs together a little more so he could spread them the way he wanted. And then a fucking miracle happened—the vibration stopped—and when Bateman noticed, he cursed and grabbed the remote. You used it as your only chance to escape as he lost his grip on you. Shaking, barely breathing, you tried to crawl away from him, and you even managed to slip off the bed and fall to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch?!" His angry baritone hit your eardrums like a fucking thunderclap, but the worst part was that you couldn't really move since you were nothing but a wet, shaking mess. "You soaked the floor with your fucking blood!"

Bateman didn't get up right away, but when he did, it took him several steps to approach your weak, exhausted frame. Smirking, he looked down at you before stomping on your shoulder blade until you screamed in pain as you thought he was going to crush your bones.

"Stop," your voice broke into a hushed squeal as you ran out of strength. "Just...k-kill me already."

"You don't have a say in this," Patrick removed his foot and grabbed your hair, starting to drag you somewhere you didn't know. "Fuck it...I have to clean the whole apartment anyway."

For a moment you seemed to black out, but only for a moment. The next room you were trapped in turned out to be a spacious living room, but the walls were as white as the bedroom - it felt like you were already in a morgue, the cold floor beneath your hot skin only intensifying this feeling. When the man finally lowered you to the floor, which was covered with many copies of various newspapers, mostly the Times, he placed you on your knees and elbows again before positioning himself behind you. Looking down at your sore pussy covered with his cum, he jerked off for several fleeting seconds that felt like an eternity to you, and you didn't even say a word, you didn't feel a thing, as if you were already dead. When he was hard again, Bateman slid inside you to the brim, stretching you even more in this position, but he still wanted more, so he pushed you face down on the floor, the smell of ink filling your nose, mixing with the smell of sex, sweat and your blood, making it hard for you to resist the urge to vomit, but you had no choice but to hold back as best you could.

Fucking you from behind at a relentless pace, Patrick closed his eyes and threw his head back, his hands holding you in place, using your body like a fuck toy, his girth brutally spreading your little channel in this position and from time to time Bateman would look down to see your cunt struggling to encompass him and it spurred him on to fuck you even harder until he was literally squatting down on you, fucking you in a doggy mating press. Each time he jackhammered into your malleable body, a wet, squelching sound would come from your pussy.

"You're... so tight," he breathed out suddenly, before pushing you down some more, almost cracking your skull from how hard he was pressing you to the floor. "Mmh-fuck!" That little rub on your overstimulated bud he gave you forced you to explode once again, that was another time he made you squirt, your soft inner walls milking him so hard, literally asking him to pump you with his cum and the next second he squatted down as hard as he could, sinking deep before he unloaded the dense ropes of his seed, pumping you hard until his cum began to flow down the insides of your hips, dripping down to the floor and thank God he had planned everything out and placed the newspapers. "So how does it feel to be a cum-dumster, honey?"

Sobbing, you didn't answer, but slipped to the floor and curled up, your knees pressed to your chest. How did you feel? There was probably no right answer to that question, but the only thing you could admit for sure was that this man had literally ripped your soul out of your body, and now you were nothing but an empty shell that had once been someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone's love? All these thoughts were like a whirlpool in your mind, you were drowning in the pain of being degraded to the point of losing your identity—could you be called human after this? 

Eventually your eyelids became too heavy and you drifted off for some time, you couldn't tell exactly how long you were unconscious, but the next thing you remembered was a painful sensation pooling all over your lower abdomen as Bateman pushed something like a plug into your creamy cleft to keep his cum inside you because he wanted to open you up later like a fucking bottle of champagne. After another hour of rough anal sex, Patrick was finally exhausted, your asshole was torn and bleeding, but it didn't bother him at all as he pushed another plug into your asshole.

Genesis' tape Invisible Touch seemed to be playing for the third time in a row, Patrick was sitting on the draped couch, naked, covered in your blood and his semen. He took a drag from his cigar and leaned back in his seat, admiring the view in front of him—you, standing on your knees, still naked and bruised, a shiny garland wrapped around you, making you look like a fucking Christmas tree. There was not even a one spot on your body that was left untouched and unscarred, as the man had spent a lot of time carving his initials into your skin, along with words like: hoe, slut, cum-dumster, fuck toy, and maybe something more.

Shaking pathetically, you opened your eyes to see him sitting smugly on the couch, still smoking his cigar. "Kill me...please...just kill me."

"Hey! Christmas trees don't talk," he grinned, fixing his messy hair before blowing out some smoke. "And they don't sob, so stop fucking crying!"

With an exhausted exhale you sat down, feeling the sharp thorns of the flowers you bought for your parents cutting into your knees, but that pain was nothing because there was nothing left of you in this body. 

"My family..." you murmured in a trembling voice. "They will find out..."

The man nodded as if he really believed what you said. "Don't worry about it. By the time they find out, your body will probably be dissolving somewhere," Patrick laughed as he noticed you almost falling to the floor. "I cut the phone line, so your family will need some time to fix everything." With that he got up and walked over to you. "You know, I really enjoyed this Christmas...maybe I'll keep you to myself," he stroked your bruised cheek. "I will personally express my condolences to your father about his loss. I promise you, sweetheart, no one and nothing will keep us apart. Not now, not ever."

Phill Collins' voice was still blaring in the background, but the lyrics slept away from you like your life slept away the moment you stepped into that damn elevator, because now your life didn't belong to you anymore.

♪ I must've dreamed a thousand dreams Been haunted by a million screams But I can hear the marching feet They're moving into the street Now did you read the news today? They say the danger's gone away But I can see the fire's still alight They're burning into the night There's too many men, too many people Making too many problems And not much love to go 'round Can't you see this is a land of confusion? This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh) And these are the hands we're given (oh, oh, oh) Use them and let's start trying (oh, oh, oh) To make it a place worth living in ♪

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[yurinaa-world]

Hi! Could you make an artist reader? Basically a painter who draws his partner or cats, etc?

With the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Moze, Dan Heng (I'm using this with a translator so I don't know if it's spelled correctly...)

2#"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Sampo, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's an artist

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫Dan Heng's part is here: 💫

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

“Not bad, not bad at all. You really know what catches my good side.”

It was supposed to be a gift painting of him, your delicate, nimble fingers first sketched it out before picking out colours and finally taking a brush and painting over the canvas sketch with extreme eye for detail.

He always loved to barge in whenever he felt like it, but now it is a very bad moment! He saw it when you were almost finished! Seriously, you wanted to surprise him so badly. You whirl around cheeks already flushed from the intensity of your concentration, now burning hotter with embarrassment. 

"Y-you weren’t supposed to see it yet!" you stammer, instinctively moving to shield the canvas with your arms, though it's far too late. He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

"Oh, come on. You can't blame me for being curious. I mean, you’ve been holed up in here for days, looking all suspicious."

He goes silent for a bit, staring at the painting for a while…

He's sort of left completely speechless by you.

“Wow, what detail. How about I put this up in my office.” he grinned, while you completely protested the idea because you weren’t finished 

“No way! It’s not finished.”

💫𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇-𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃"

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He whined and cried till his throat went dry, but even then that wouldn’t stop his extremely annoying cries. All while you listen and skim through your supplies, nit-picking at what you need all while your canvas is stood in front of a Sampo who’s tied to the chair. 

“Dear Sampo just wanted to make some profits, and those paintings have been there for years, I was just doing you a favour!”

You only sigh at his words. You don’t like to sell your painting, especially with a vendor like Sampo of all people. It may have been ancient yet you didn’t want to get rid of it.

the idea that it may be hanging on a wall in some random place, bought by Sampo’s tricks at a higher price, gave you an unpleasant feeling in your mouth. “You are something, you know,” you whispered, taking a palette knife and twirling it around in your fingers. Not for a show of power—even if you’d like Sampo to see it that way—but because it helped your mind stay focused.

At an exaggerated rate, Sampo shrank back while his chair was making a squeaky noise, signifying his discomfort. “I mean, come on, be realistic, let’s think logically about it! I’m only the middleman in the process here, attempting to make your raw talent the new trend!” 

“You’re right, so in turn for your service I decided to give you something to sell as well.” you smile with joy, as you sit down on the chair in front of my canvas, which makes him sweat dearly on what you’re about to do. 

You lean back, tilting your head as if to get a better view of your subject. “You’d make a... striking muse, don’t you think?” Sampo’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Striking? I—I mean, I am a good-looking guy, but—wait a second! What kind of striking are we talking about here?” 

“You're right, someone would like a painting of a guy like you, I wonder in what position though,” you mutter that last part but you know he heard “Your beauty will sell for millions just like you wanted.”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“Moze.”

One call of his name and he’ll be landing at your feet to see what you need him to do. Appearing behind you, his hands gently landing on your shoulders—still scaring you to death, before whispering “You called” under his breath, yet loud enough for you to hear.

Immediately turning around and clasping your hands with his, along with a giant smile on your face. “Moze! Could you be my subject!”

He (easily) caved and became what you needed him to be most, your subject in your painting. He’s so awkward when posing! You had to personally move him around a couple of times since he’s made all of the poses you put him in awkward somehow.

Which leaves you to have your hand on your chin, staring at him with a precise gaze, that is the same as his, yet, yours was made to find beauty in hopeless things.

 “Hah…how should I pose you.”

Taking his one hand in yours while your other hand goes to his hood, you gently pull it down, revealing his slightly messy hair. “You hide so much behind this,” you say softly, smoothing a few strands away from his face. 

“I think… maybe something natural,” you mumble, tilting your head to examine him from another angle. You guide him to sit on the chair near the window, where the soft light filters through the curtains. “Lean back, like this,” you murmur, adjusting his shoulders to relax against the chair. “And look out the window… like you’re lost in thought.”

Moze does as you say, his hands gripping the edge of the chair a little too tightly. You shake your head with a small laugh and pry his fingers loose, placing one hand on his lap and letting the other dangle over the side of the chair. “There. Try to look more relaxed.”

He’s honestly trying the best he can, his shoulders less tense and face less serious—even though that’s basically all he knows to do. “Thank you.” You smile gently at him before pecking him on the lips as a thank you, before finally starting at your sketch.

He can’t forget your pretty smile. He helped you. He wishes he had his hood on now.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[menteycorazoncito]

𝐇á𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐳á𝐥𝐞𝐳

ᥫ᭡: pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x reader

ᥫ᭡: warnings: angst to fluff, breakup, lmk if forgot smth

ᥫ᭡: a/n: I was listening to Tayc while writing and the idea to combine some lyrics in the fic came to me. Criticism and feedback are always welcome. Enjoy :)

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It has been a few weeks since you had last seen Pedri, a few weeks since you have heard his voice, felt his warmth or laughed about his foolish jokes and humorous banter. It all used to seem insignificant, yet now, it was all you could think about. Still holding onto the faint memories for dear life.

Things had changed between you two. It was nothing dramatic. No big fight or disagreement, just a dull emptiness that replaced the connection you once had. You got too caught up in your own life and insecurities to even notice. So close, yet so out of reach.

Pedri laid wide awake in his bed, staring out the window at the beautiful Barcelona skyline, wondering when he got to the state he was in right now. Long sleepless hours, filled with thoughts and regrets that drove him crazy. He didn’t exactly know what he had done wrong. But there must have been an explanation as to why you left.

His phone on the bedside table mocked him with its silence. He grabbed it and for the umpteenth time that night his finger hovered over your contact, before setting it back down and sighing into the darkness of his empty bedroom. 

He missed you. The way your perfume lingered in his flat, even after you left reminded him of you, and it was killing him slowly inside. 

Pedri couldn’t get himself to call you; not in the state he was in. He desperately needed to see you.

You were sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, reading your book. Yet, you found yourself rereading the same page multiple times, unable to focus on the words. Your thoughts drifted to a certain Spanish brunette.

You jumped at the sound of doorbell ring. Who could it be at this hour? You asked yourself in denial because deep inside you knew who it might have been. 

“Pedro.” you said, his name stuck in your throat, as you opened the door.

He stood in the hallway of the building blankly staring at you, looking worse than ever. The shadows under his eyes more prominent than they already were, his hoodie wrinkled, and his hair messy. His posture reminded you of a lost puppy. It looked like he had cried, eyes red and puffy. Did he really let himself go like that? 

He stared as if you would disappear if even moved his eyes ever so little. You on the other hand tried to keep composure after seeing him.

“Can I come in?” he finally spoke.

“Why are you here?” you asked, desperate to know the reason for his visit at this hour. 

“We need to talk…” he said, his voice barely audible. “I deserve an explanation.”

Against your better judgement you opened the front door wider to let him into your flat. You stepped aside as he shuffled inside and sat on the sofa of your living room. 

You trailed behind him and for a moment there you didn’t believe the sight in front of you: Pedri, the man you love(d) sat in front of you in utter silence. His big doe eyes glazed with tears, reflecting a sadness that mirrored your own.

The room was silent, broken by the sound of Barcelona’s traffic outside. Both of you did not know what to say or do. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, as you wondered how it has gotten this bad.

“What happened to us…” he finally asked.

You were silent, the words got caught in your throat. Truth is, you had imagined this moment endless times. Each scenario playing differently in your mind. Yet nothing could have ever prepared you for this encounter. 

“I though we were doing fine. All of a sudden it’s like we don't know each other. You gave up on us at the first hardship of our relationship. It’s like you never even fought for us, at least not like I did.” he said, his voice cracking. 

Utter silence. His words hung heavily in the air. Still you remained silent.

“Talk to me…” he urged. “Talk to me, even if it’s to insult me. Tell me that you hate me, just don’t ignore me”

Tears filled your eyes as you realised how much you actually hurt him. “I didn’t fight for you because I thought you’d be better off without me, Pedro” 

He flinched at the use of his full name, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.

“You think I would be better off without you?” he scoffed, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You are everything I have ever wanted. Do you know how much it killed me to hear nothing from you? I analysed every single move I have ever made in our relationship to see if I ever wronged you. It killed me to see the person I love slip away from me day by day. I did everything I could to at try and make you stay but I wake up one day, your things are gone, and I am blocked everywhere.” His sadness quickly turned into frustration. 

You blinked emptily at him. His words hit you like a tidal wave and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to crack.

“I- I thought I was protecting you. All the pressure, the media, the traveling. You were away half the time, and I didn't know how to deal with it. It was never my intention to hurt you. I thought letting you go would be what’s best of us, before any of us get attached. No matter how much it hurt me. I was so selfish that I ended up hurting you too in the process. Plus, it was too late when I came back to my senses. The damage was already done, and I don’t know how to fix it,” You confessed, your voice quiet and high pitched. Pedri wouldn’t have heard you if you weren’t sitting so close to each other.

“So that’s it? After everything, you’re just giving up” He was growing more frustrated by the minute

“I never felt enough for you. You are this amazing footballer that all girls dream of, and I am- I am just… me. Plain me.”

The walls you had built came down, showing how fragile you were in reality. Ashamed of your vulnerability, you looked away, finding a sudden interest in the bookshelf of your living room as the realisation hit you like a thousand bricks.

You had ruined everything. You lost everything to your own insecurities. 

“Mira cariño, I didn’t come to fight,”  he reassured you softly, his gaze softened at the sight of the tears glistening in your eyes. “You were enough. You always were. I came here because I really miss you. This emptiness is killing me.” 

He scooted closer to you, taking your hand in his, looking at you with a look of sympathy. The same look he had always given you when you were upset. As you allowed the tears to finally fall, he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“I miss you too.” your voice cracked in between the sobs. “I miss us.”

He cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in his eyes that make you fall in love over again. 

“We can fix this, mi amor, you just need to want it too.” he reassured you, getting his own hopes up.

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. As he pulled you into a hug you began to sob even more (if that was even possible). How missed him. The scent of his woody cologne filling you with nostalgia of what you had, the way his arms wrapped around you, the way he made everything into a joke. You put your head on his chest as he put his chin on your head whispering sweet nothing to you. The sound of his heartbeat calmed your sobs a bit and for the first time in weeks you felt a little bit of relief.

“I want you back,” you admitted through tears. “No matter how much I tried to move on and live without you, but I found myself hanging onto every single things that reminds me of you. I can’t sleep without you here, the bed feels too big and the flat feels quiet. I can’t live without you, Pedrito.” 

The two of you spent what was left of the evening, silently in each others arms. Pedri occasionally pressed kisses to your head and hands like he always used to do. And for the first time in what felt like forever, a sense of peace and a flicker of hope warmed your cold heart. 

“Estoy aquí para ti, siempre” he whispered reassuringly in your hair before you two drifted into a deep sleep.

Maybe, just maybe, this time you would get it right.

[stuckinmymind22]

zoro x gn! reader

wc: 663

this is the first part of a series "you're in love with me" where you realize that they are in love with you can call them out on it

thanks for voting on this one, i had fun with it, sorry it took so long, i got busy with the holidays, but it’s here now 💕

ace's is done and will be up probably tomorrow and i'm gonna start on sanjis, but lmk if you are interested in any other characters

not proof read lol

this goes one of two ways, in both you're being called stupid, both included

it's a chose your own adventure babe!

zoro has been acting strange recently- he was almost too quick to come to your aid, even if it was something you both knew you could handle alone. he’s also been making sure that you eat. recently he brought up a plate for you when you were on duty in the crow’s nest. sure, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink, but that was easy to write off as a consequence of the alcohol that was surely in his veins. but he didn’t leave right away like you thought he would, he stood on the ladder without moving until he saw you take your first bite. on the last island there had been a miscalculation in your provisions and the ship was running dangerously low on alcohol. there was no doubt that the crew was going to run dry shy of meeting their next destination, which was a bigger deal to some of the straw hats than others. it all brings you to the moment he offers you a sip of the last bottle of sake. you’re speechless. you always thought that hell sure would freeze over before he shared his booze and here he is willingly offering you some. you’re trying to figure out what was going on in his head, why he has been acting so strange, then it hits you.  “you’re in love with me.”

denial is a river in egypt

“did you hit your head or sum?” he asks, trying to remain as impartial as possible, but you didn’t miss how he nearly choked at your words. “no, zo, this makes sense,” you say connecting the dots, "you've been acting real weird about me recently, this explains it." you aren’t about to back down from this, not after you wanted this for so long, not until he admits it to himself. “you’re being an idiot,” he rolls his eyes, “do you want some or not?” with a smile you grab the bottle out of his hand and take a swig, sitting down next to him. “i don’t mind you know,” you say taking another sip, “that you love me that is” zoro is confused why he is so drawn to the dangerous smile that plays on your lips. he shakes himself out of it snatching back the bottle and taking a long gulp. you get pulled away by luffy wanting something, but he still feels your presence.  little do you know how those words haunt him for the rest of the night. fuck, you might be right

he's down bad and he knows it

“n-no I’m not,” zoro sputters, his face alight, “are you stupid or something?” “no, no, this is why you’ve been acting strange,” you say, the weight of your revelation still sinking in. “that’s why you haven’t let me out of your sight for the past week, right?” you don’t give him time to respond (not that he would be able to formulate a coherent response anyway). you continue listing all of his abnormal behaviors and fail to notice how his face grows redder with your every word. poor zoro is sinking into his seat hoping to disappear he’s so uncomfortable. he’s certain that he messed everything up and has no idea what to do now. he knows that you’re right of course, it’s kept him up at night, kept him from his precious naps. it took him a while to realize why you never left his mind, and the determining factor came from the fucking cook spewing some bullshit to a pretty woman on the last island. just when he is certain that he ruined whatever relationship you could ever have you turn to him with a big smile.  “it’s a good thing you are though, or else this would be awkward,” you tell him, before he can even think to question what you mean your lips are on his and his brain malfunctions.  maybe it’ll be alright.

masterlist

[shizumi123yuki]

“Christmas Gift”

Summary: Simon Riley having a hard time wrapping your gift.

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Merry Christmas everyone!

Here’s your guys gift for Christmas, love you all!❤️‼️🎄

—————————

Simon Riley sat in the dimly lit living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights flickering in the corner, casting shadows that danced on the walls. The tree was something both of you had spent the last few days decorating together, carefully hanging ornaments and tinsel as if it were some kind of ritual. The moment had felt normal—like two people just enjoying each other’s company, despite the chaos of their usual lives.

But tonight, Simon wasn’t thinking about the tree or the soft music playing in the background. He was focused on one thing… wrapping your gift.

It was a gift he’d spent weeks thinking about. A gift he’d known you wanted for ages. He’d saved up for it, even though he’d never been one to splurge on things like that. But for you? There was nothing more important than seeing your face light up when you opened it.

Only problem? Simon had never been good at wrapping presents.

A crumpled roll of Christmas paper sat in front of him, a useless piece in his hands. He sighed, a low growl of frustration escaping as he glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes had passed, and every attempt looked worse than the last. The folds were creased in all the wrong places, the tape had stuck to his fingers more times than he could count, and ribbons seemed to multiply into an impossible knot.

Simon growled again as he cut another strip of paper, trying to maintain his focus. It wasn’t about perfection—it was about the thought. But damn, this was starting to feel like a battle he wasn’t winning. His fingers fumbled with the ribbon again, the pink and red strands tangling like a stubborn knot. He could almost hear your voice in his head, teasing him gently about how “it wasn’t about how it looked.”

Still, it bugged him.

With one final frustrated sigh, Simon dropped the box onto the floor, eyes narrowing at his handiwork. The gift was wrapped, sure, but it looked like it had been through a warzone. The paper was wrinkled in all the wrong places, the ribbons twisted in an embarrassing knot, and the tape was haphazardly applied, barely holding the mess together.

He leaned back in the chair and chuckled softly to himself. Yeah, this wasn’t his finest moment. But it was done. Just as Simon wiped his hands on his pants, he heard the front door open with a soft creak.

“Im home!” Your voice rang out, full of warmth and love.

Simon sprang to his feet. His heart picked up a little, even though he knew the mess he had made. He jogged to the door, his usually stoic face softening as he reached out to take your bag, his hands lingering on you as he helped you slip out of your coat.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hey, love.” you replied, your voice a little teasing as you leaned into the hug. You could already tell he was a little jittery—his usual stoic exterior slightly cracked.

Both of you walked to the living room, your eyes falling on the scene before you. Wrapping paper was scattered across the floor like a battlefield, pieces of tape stuck to the coffee table, and two used rolls of ribbon were carelessly thrown on the couch.

For a moment, you just stood there, crossing your arms as you surveyed the mess. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the chaotic scene, your gaze shifting to Simon, who was standing sheepishly by the tree, scratching the back of his head.

“I tried…” Simon mumbled, his voice low, the hint of a smile on his lips despite the mess. He looked like a giant German shepherd who’d just gotten caught stealing a treat—embarrassed but trying to hide it behind that tough-guy front.

You chuckled softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you shook your head. “You’ve definitely tried… Simon.”

His broad shoulders slumped a little, but the smirk he gave you was nothing short of charming. “Im no expert at this kind of thing,” he admitted. “But… its the thought that counts, right?”

You stepped forward, kneeling down to gently smooth out a wrinkle in the paper, your fingers grazing over the tape and ribbons. “Its cute, Simon. You know that, right?”

He snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cute? That thing looks like it’s been through alot.”

“Maybe, but it’s your work and I think its perfect,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

A warmth spread through Simon’s chest at your words, his smile growing. Despite the mess he’d made, he felt a surge of pride. Not because of the wrapping, but because of what it meant: that he cared enough to try, to make this moment special for you. It was silly, maybe, but it felt important.

“Alright then,” Simon said, gesturing toward the mangled package under the tree. “You gonna open it?”

You bent down to retrieve the gift, your smile widening when you saw the chaos wrapped inside. The box was heavy, the paper not even close to matching up with the shape, but you didn’t care. You could already guess what it was, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Sitting down beside him on the couch, you carefully peeled back the layers of paper, revealing the carefully chosen gift hidden beneath. It was the exact thing you had talked about months ago, something you’d only mentioned in passing but had always secretly wanted.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide. “Simon…”

He watched you, his expression still guarded, but there was a softness in his eyes now. “Its what you wanted,” he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “I remembered.”

Tears welled up in your eyes—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sense of love that washed over you. You turned to look at him, the chaos of the wrapping forgotten as you pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you with warmth and strength. Simon’s arms tightened around you, his usual gruffness softening. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Merry Christmas.”

And for a moment, with the chaotic mess of wrapping paper, tangled ribbons, and mismatched tape scattered around you both, it felt like everything was just perfect.

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART TEN ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: sexual content (at the end)

word count: 9.8k

A/N: Alright this is the last chapter of the series 🥹. I really enjoyed writing this one honestly and this won't be my last story! I tried to combine the things people requested the most for the last chapter so it's honestly just a really cute chapter to wrap up their storyline. There is some sexual content at the end but if you don't like that kind of thing you don't have to read it and won't miss much as it's just the end of the series. But for those of you who do like it, it's there lol! Please leave live reactions and comments, thank you so much for reading this series 🫶🏼🤭.

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March 2029

Paige paced back and forth in her dressing room, her footsteps quick and uneven as she muttered under her breath. Nika, lounging on the couch, watched her with an amused expression, while everyone else was still getting dressed. 

“Twin, you need to chill and sit down,” Nika said, shaking her head. “You’re gonna get sweaty, and Azzi’s going to kill you and probably me for letting you do this.”

“How am I supposed to sit down?” Paige shot back, throwing her hands in the air. “I haven’t seen my fiancée all day! I have no idea what she’s thinking!”

Nika stifled a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the point. You’re not supposed to see her today. It’s tradition or whatever.”

Paige groaned, reluctantly plopping down onto the edge of the couch. She adjusted her button up carefully, making sure she didn’t wrinkle it. “This is torture, who came up with this ridiculous tradition anyway. Who wouldn’t want to see their wife before they got married,” she muttered.

A few seconds later, as if the universe was reading her mind, a knock sounded at the door. Nika stood up to answer it, sharing a quick glance at Paige whose face lit up a little bit. When Nika opened the door, Caroline stood on the other side, a playful smirk on her face.

“Azzi wants Paige to come to the door,” Caroline said, her tone light, “but she can’t look.”

Nika laughed quietly as she turned to Paige. “Come on, drama queen. Get up.”

With exaggerated reluctance, Paige got to her feet. Nika guided her to the door, positioning her by the wall so she and Azzi couldn’t see each other.

Paige felt a familiar hand slide into hers from the other side of the door frame, their fingers intertwining. Azzi’s voice came softly, almost a whisper. “Hi, baby.”

A wide grin broke out on Paige’s face. “Hi, mama.”

Azzi chuckled at the name, her thoughts drifting briefly to their son, who Geno had whisked away the moment he’d arrived.

“Have you seen him yet?” Paige asked, her tone softening as her thoughts turned to their little boy just like Azzi.

“Not since this morning,” Azzi replied. “But Geno promised he’d keep him entertained. I heard him say something about introducing him to everyone in the building before getting him dressed.”

Paige laughed quietly. “So basically, he’s spoiling him.”

“Of course,” Azzi said with a smile. “I think Geno likes being a grandpa more than he did coaching sometimes.”

Paige’s heart melted as she pictured her son’s bright blue eyes and laughter filling the building. “I still can’t believe we have him sometimes Az. He’s perfect.”

Azzi’s voice softened. “He really is. And he’s going to be so proud of his moms today.”

“Which is why you need to calm down goofball,” Azzi continued gently as she squeezed Paige’s hand.

Paige scoffed, trying to sound confident. “Psh, what are you talking about? I’m cool as a cucumber.”

A laugh bubbled up from Azzi. “I could feel your stress from the other side of the building, Paige and your hands are sweaty.”

At that, Paige tried to pull her hand away to wipe it on a towel, but Azzi held onto her firmly. “Nope, not so fast,” Azzi teased.

Paige sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. “This is so unfair,” she mumbled. “I can’t even see you.”

“I know,” Azzi replied, her voice warm. “But I’m here. We’ve got this.”

Paige exhaled a shaky breath, a grin tugging at her lips. “We’re getting married today, baby.” Her voice wavered with emotion, the reality of the moment hitting her all over again.

Azzi smiled on the other side of the door, her thumb gently stroking the back of Paige’s hand. “Yeah, we are,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” Paige admitted with a small laugh. “Six years ago, I didn’t think I’d be this lucky.”

Azzi’s grip tightened slightly. “Paige, you deserve this. You deserve everything.”

Paige’s heart swelled, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. “You’re everything, Az. I can’t wait to see you walk down that aisle.”

“And I can’t wait to marry you,” Azzi whispered.

A moment of silence passed between them, filled only with the quiet sound of their breathing.

Finally, Azzi spoke again. “Okay, I have to go put my dress on now.”

Paige smiled, her head still resting against the wall. “I know you’re going to look so beautiful, Az.”

Azzi’s laugh was like a perfect melody in Paige’s ears. “I love you, P.”

“I love you, too,” Paige replied without hesitation, her voice soft and full of adoration.

Their hands parted reluctantly, and Paige went back to sit down, her chest lighter than it had been all day. She reached for a bottle of water, taking a long sip as a calmness settled over her.

…

Paige now stood outside the double doors, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a few deep breaths trying to steady herself. 

Behind her, Jayden squirmed in Ice’s arms, reaching out toward his mom with a determined pout. His little hands stretched forward, and his soft curly hair bounded as he wriggled in Ice’s arms. 

“Paige, he wants you,” Ice said with a grin, already moving to set the toddler down. 

Paige bent down as his tiny feet touched the floor, her hands immediately going to straighten his miniature suit. “Hey, buddy,” she said softly, her voice instantly calm as she smoothed the lapels of his jacket. 

Jayden beamed up at her, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement, “Mommy,” he said, his voice sweet and slightly wobbly 

Paige smiled at him as she booped his nose with her finger. “Hey, little man. Look at you in your suit. You look so handsome. Mama’s gonna love it.”

Jayden grinned proudly, then pointed to the doors. “Mama ‘dere?” he asked, his small finger jabbing in the direction of where Azzi was going to be eventually.

Paige’s heart melted as she nodded. “Yeah, mama’s gonna be in there. But she’s not there yet, she’s waiting for us.”

Jayden tilted his head, his little brow furrowed in thought. “Why?” he asked, the single word clear amidst his toddler babble.

Paige chuckled softly, fixing the curls that had fallen over his forehead just the way Azzi liked it. “Because today’s a special day Jay. Mama and I are getting married.”

Jayden’s eyes widened with the kind of awe only a toddler could muster. “Mawwy?” he repeated, his tone high and curious.

Paige nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, married. It means we’re gonna be a family forever. You, me, and Mama.”

Jayden clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with the idea. “Jayden, too?” he asked, his words slightly jumbled but unmistakable.

“Of course, Jayden, too,” Paige said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “You’re the most important part of this family, you know that?”

Jayden giggled, his small hands reaching up to pat Paige’s cheeks. “Love you, Mommy,” he said suddenly, his little voice bursting with affection.

Paige felt her throat tighten as she pulled him into a quick hug. “I love you, too, Jay. So much.”

From behind her, Ice cleared her throat. “Alright, ma’am, time to stand up. You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Paige laughed, releasing Jayden reluctantly. She straightened up, brushing off her suit and taking another deep breath. Looking down at Jayden, she gave him a reassuring smile. “You ready?”

Jayden nodded eagerly, excited to see his mama finally. 

With one last deep breath, Paige straightened her shoulders, feeling calmer than she had moments ago.

…

Paige stood at the end of the aisle, her hands nervously crossed in front of her as she waited for Azzi. The soft murmur of the audience faded into the background, and all she could feel was the weight of the moment. On her side of the aisle stood Nika, Ice, KK, and Drew, each of them smiling at her with proud, knowing looks. On Azzi’s side were Caroline, Jon, Jose, and Jana, equally as proud, their faces radiating warmth as they stood together, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Each of them wore the same light magenta in their respective styles, the magenta represented the union of their lives, the perfect balance between purple and pink, of Paige and Azzi.

The guests in the audience were a mix of family, friends, and basketball royalty, each one a piece of Paige and Azzi’s shared journey. Paige could see familiar faces scattered throughout the crowd: their families, their old UConn teammates, UConn alumni, some of their WNBA teammates–old and new–even some players they had never played with but had grown close to, all of these people supported Paige and Azzi through different phases of their careers and their relationship. The room was a true reflection of their journey. The air felt heavy with history and yet it was brimming with hope for the future.

All of a sudden the orchestra began to play, its soft melodies filling the air and soothing the nervous tension in the room. At the front of the aisle, Paige couldn’t help but smile as she saw the first person of the day making his way down the aisle. With his little legs, he moved slowly, but with an adorable determination. He was wearing a little suit that mirrored his uncles, and he was holding his aunt Lauren’s hand. Every now and then, Lauren would hand him a few flowers to toss down the aisle which he thoroughly enjoyed. The crowd cooed at the two-year-old as he made his way toward the front, taking in all the attention with the charm that Paige swore he got from her. 

Jay was their perfect miracle. Paige and Azzi had adopted him as soon as both of their rookie contracts were up, and they were finally able to play for the same team in Washington. It had been nothing short of hitting the adoption lottery. With his blue eyes and blonde hair, he looked like a perfect blend of both his moms somehow. His blonde hair was curly like Azzi’s, and his dimples were almost an exact replica of her’s. As he threw flowers along the aisle, occasionally getting distracted by familiar faces in the crowd, Paige couldn’t help but beam with pride.

When Jayden reached the end of the aisle, he attempted to walk toward Paige, his arms reaching out to his mommy. But before he could take another step, Lauren scooped him up, and his pout deepened. The crowd couldn’t help but chuckle at the little boy’s dramatic expression as he was whisked away. Despite the momentary disappointment, he was soon settled in the arms of his grandmother, Katie, who had been eagerly waiting to hold him.

Paige smiled at the adorable scene. Jayden was just like his moms in every way. And Paige felt her heart swell as she watched him interact with the family, knowing this day, this moment, was just the beginning of their future together.

The laughter from the wedding party gradually faded, settling into a peaceful silence that seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. The music, once soft and light, swelled into a more solemn, heartfelt melody. It was time for Azzi to walk down the aisle. As the first few notes of the song filled the air, the entire audience stood in unison, their eyes instinctively shifting toward the doors.

Paige’s heart was pounding in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears as she fought to steady her breath. This is it, she thought, her palms damp against the fabric of her pants. Her heart swelled with love, nervous excitement, and a deep, overwhelming joy. She glanced at her family and friends—Nika, Ice, KK, Drew—all standing at her side. Her gaze then flicked to the guests filling the rows, each face radiating love and warmth, all of them there to witness this monumental moment. Azzi is about to walk toward me. The love of my life is about to walk towards me.

Then the doors opened.

Azzi’s presence filled the room like a wave, drawing every eye, yet somehow the world seemed to narrow. There she was—walking slowly towards Paige, glowing with a quiet confidence, her every step in perfect harmony with the music. The lighting caught her white dress just right, casting a soft, ethereal glow around her. She looked like something out of a dream—angelic, breathtaking.

Paige’s breath hitched, and her heart raced faster as her eyes locked with Azzi’s. Her legs almost gave way beneath her and Drew patted her shoulder chuckling slightly, but she stood tall, transfixed by the sight of the woman she loved. The woman she had waited for. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision, but all she could see was Azzi, walking toward her as if the world had led them here, to this moment.

At the same time Azzi’s thoughts swirled as she took each step. This moment is everything I’ve dreamed of. Fuck she looks so good. My heart beats for her. It always has, always will. Her pulse raced as she scanned Paige’s face. I’ve fought for this love, for her. I’ve seen everything we’ve been through, and it’s been worth it. Every moment, every struggle—this is the culmination of all of it.

Her eyes were locked on Paige as if nothing else existed in the world. There was so much emotion swirling within her—gratitude, awe, love—but most of all, there was a profound peace. This is where I belong. Right here, with her.

As she walked closer, she couldn’t help but smile at Paige’s teary eyes, her heart swelling at the way she was looking at her. She’s everything to me. How did I get so lucky? Her legs felt like they were moving on their own, carried by the sheer force of the love between them.

When Azzi finally reached the altar, Paige’s hands, which had been tightly clasped in front of her, suddenly felt empty. She reached out instinctively, her fingers trembling as she tried to follow through with the practiced firm handshake she was supposed to give Tim. But before she could, Tim pulled her into a tight, heartfelt hug. It was unexpected, but so full of meaning—so full of everything he felt about the woman who was about to marry his daughter. Paige’s arms wrapped around him as she smiled through her tears. She had grown so close to him, and in that moment, it felt like all their shared memories—good and bad—were coming together.

Azzi’s eyes softened as she watched the embrace, her chest tightening with emotion. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she finally took her place beside Paige, her hand sliding into Paige’s like it was meant to be there all along.

Paige helped Azzi settle in front of her, taking Azzi’s hand in hers, feeling the familiar warmth that had comforted her for so long. Azzi handed her flowers to Caroline, a fleeting moment of lightness before their attention fully turned to each other.

They stood there, face to face at last. The weight of the moment settled in their hearts, and the world seemed to slow. As their eyes locked for a few precious seconds, it was as if the room had disappeared. Everything faded away except for the two of them, standing together, ready to begin the rest of their lives.

Azzi’s voice, soft but clear, broke the silence, carrying a tenderness that only Paige could feel. She whispered, so only Paige could hear, but it felt as if the entire room was listening. “You look beautiful P.” Her fingers gently brushed a tear from Paige’s cheek, her touch as delicate as the moment itself.

Paige’s heart swelled, and she blinked away more tears as she whispered back, her voice slightly trembling, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, baby.” She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but the emotion in her chest was overwhelming.

Before the intimacy of the moment could envelop them entirely, Jayden’s voice rang out from the audience. His little voice echoed with excitement as he saw Azzi standing in front of Paige. “Mama!” he shouted, his chubby little arms reaching for her. He was so happy to see his mother, and his pure joy filled the room, drawing smiles from every corner.

Azzi’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice, and she winked at him, her eyes softening with affection. Jayden, always a mama’s boy, blushed furiously at the attention from Azzi and immediately hid his face in Katie’s neck. The crowd couldn’t help but laugh, touched by his shyness and his love for his mom.

Paige and Azzi exchanged a glance, their faces breaking into smiles at their son’s antics. They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that only they could understand, before turning back to each other. Their love for Jayden, for each other, was tangible in the air around them—an unspoken bond that only deepened as the moment passed.

The ceremony continued, but the two of them were lost in the love they shared, the life they had built, and the promise of all the moments yet to come.

Paige hadn’t really heard a word CD had said as she officiated the wedding. All Paige could do was stare at Azzi in awe, her heart swelling in her chest. In that moment, everything around her faded—the audience, CD’s voice, the sound of the light music—all she could see was Azzi, standing there before her. Azzi, the woman who had become everything to her. Even after all these years, Paige still looked at her the way she did the first time she realized she loved her—like she was the most beautiful thing on this earth, like she would do anything, give everything, to the girl standing in front of her.

It was now time for the vows, and Paige took a deep breath, steadying herself as her heart raced in her chest. Her voice wavered as she began, but the words came from the deepest place inside her, raw and honest. There were no rehearsed lines, no prepared speeches. She didn’t need them to tell Azzi how much she loved her, how much she meant to her. 

“Azzi,” Paige began, her voice trembling slightly, “To put it simply you’re everything to me baby. I didn’t realize it at first, but... when you got to UConn that summer, I thought I was just being a leader, you know doing my job—helping the new girl get comfortable and fit in. But you weren’t like anyone I had ever met.”

Paige paused, her eyes locked with Azzi’s, the love in her gaze unmistakable. “You were this constant, steady presence. And without even trying, you made me trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my entire life. You had this way of getting under my skin and somehow, you did it without me even realizing what was happening. You became someone I couldn’t imagine life without before I even realized it.”

Paige’s eyes softened, remembering a moment that had changed everything. “And then... you made me watch Frozen for the first time. The movie had been out for like... eleven years at that point, and I’d never seen it because, honestly, who would want to waste time watching a Disney cartoon? I needed to be in the gym. But there you were, trying to put it on because it was your turn to pick the movie, and I looked at you like you were insane.” Paige chuckled softly at the memory, the love in her eyes only growing. “But then... you gave me this look. We were on my bed sitting too close to be just friends, and for the first time, I really saw you. Your eyes. God, your eyes. My breath caught in my throat, and I think that’s when I first really noticed how breathtaking you were.”

Paige’s voice softened as she spoke of that pivotal moment. “Your dimples, your smile, your laugh—everything about you. That was the moment I think I knew. I didn’t admit it to myself then, but something clicked that day. And before I knew it, you had me watching Frozen every week.”

A bittersweet smile crossed Paige’s face. “And then, we fought. God, we fought, and we hurt each other in ways I didn’t think were possible. But even then... even when we weren’t speaking, even when I thought you’d broken my heart and left me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’d wonder if you’d eaten, how you were feeling, if you were getting enough sleep, if you were icing your knee or taking care of yourself. I couldn’t stop caring even when I wanted to.”

Paige’s voice faltered for a moment as she fought to control the tears threatening to fall. She looked at Azzi, who stood before her, looking at Paige with such intensity that it made her heart ache. “You’re so beautiful, Azzi,” Paige whispered, her words faltering slightly as she lost herself in the depth of Azzi’s gaze.

But she didn’t stop there. “But it’s not just the way you look... You’re so smart, so much smarter than you give yourself credit for. And you’re so damn stubborn. You fight me tooth and nail for what you believe in, even if it’s something as small as what Jay’s going to wear that day. And I love that about you. You make me feel safe, but you also push me to be better. You call me out when I’m being an idiot, but you do it with so much love. I’ve never met anyone who made me feel like I’m enough just as I am. You taught me that I don’t need to be perfect all the time. That I don’t always need to be in control.”

Paige’s voice cracked a little as she continued. “You’re my balance, Azzi. When I’m all over the place, loud, and impulsive, you ground me. You’re patient when I’m not, calm when I’m chaotic. And somehow, you push me to be better, to be a better version of myself for you and Jay, every single day, without ever making me feel like I have to change who I am.”

Tears brimmed in Paige’s eyes, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Baby, you’re not just someone I love. You’re my home. My heart. And I thank God every single day that he brought you to me the way he did.”

The room fell silent, and as Paige finished her vows, the emotion in the air was almost tangible. Her eyes never left Azzi’s, and both women had tears glistening in their eyes. The guests, who knew Paige as the composed, often reserved leader, were stunned. This side of her—this vulnerability, this raw, open love—was something most of them had never seen. This moment, though, was different. It was soft, delicate, and full of so much meaning. It was the clearest, most heartfelt expression of Paige’s love for Azzi.

Azzi, her heart swelling with emotion, fought to hold back the tears. She looked at Paige, struggling to find her words. After a long pause, she laughed softly, a slight chuckle escaping her lips despite the tears pooling in her eyes. “I have no idea how I’m going to follow that,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, the crowd chuckling lightly at her attempt to regain composure.

Azzi’s laugh broke the tension, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything had slowed down, as though time itself had stopped to allow them this perfect, unspoken connection.

Azzi takes a deep breath, still a little shaky from the weight of Paige's vows. "Okay," she starts, her voice soft but steady. "First of all, Paige, you're so incredibly annoying."

The crowd chuckles, and Paige rolls her eyes playfully, her smile wide. Azzi glances at her, her teasing grin softening. "But you also have the purest soul I've ever seen. You're selfless, generous, forgiving, and so incredibly caring. And every single day, I hope we’re able to raise a son who has even a fraction of those qualities."

Azzi pauses, her eyes flickering with emotion. "The night you walked into our suite when I moved in... I knew I was done for," she admits, drawing laughter from the audience. "You had this confidence, this charm, this energy that just pulled me in immediately. And, honestly, it almost got me in trouble a few times. Because I had these thoughts and all these feelings I wasn’t supposed to have for my best friend, for my teammate—especially my teammate who had a bit of a reputation."

The room erupts in laughter, and Paige mock-glares at Azzi, who shrugs innocently before continuing. "But the more I got to know you—not Paige Bueckers, the golden girl, but just Paige—the more that attraction turned into something I couldn't even put into words. I saw a side of you that no one else did. You weren’t just cocky and larger-than-life; you were thoughtful, attentive, and so incredibly soft. You showed me sides of yourself that I don’t think anyone else got to see. And those parts of you—they were the ones I fell in love with."

Azzi’s voice trembles slightly as she goes on. "With everyone else, you were carefree, like nothing could touch you. But with me, you let me see your heart. You were vulnerable in a way I know wasn’t easy for you. You trusted me with your fears, your insecurities, the things you tried so hard to keep hidden from the world. And that trust? It means more to me than I could ever say."

Azzi glances at Paige, her expression softening even further. "You made me believe in a kind of love I didn’t think was possible. The kind they write about in poems and movies. The kind of love that doesn't just show up—it stays, no matter what. You never stopped dating me, even after we were together. You used to bring me flowers every week—every single week—and when you couldn’t be there to give them to me in person, you had them shipped to my door. You made sure I never doubted how much I meant to you."

The audience murmurs softly, some wiping away tears, as Azzi’s voice grows steadier. "And it wasn’t just the big gestures. It was the way you made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. The way you remembered every little thing about me, like how I hate the dark but love the gloominess of rain. You made me feel seen in a way I didn’t even know I needed. You loved me in ways I didn’t know were possible."

Azzi pauses to collect herself, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. She lets out a watery laugh. "And somehow, through all of that, you still kept surprising me. You never stopped pushing me to be better, to dream bigger. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and you stood by me every step of the way. You were my biggest supporter, my safe space, my everything."

Her voice softens even more, and she looks directly at Paige, her gaze unwavering. "You’re not just someone I love, Paige. You’re my best friend, my soulmate, my home. And I thank God every day that he brought you into my life. Because with you, I have everything I could ever need."

By the time Azzi finishes, slow tears are streaming down Paige’s face, her lips trembling as she tries to smile. Azzi steps closer, her thumb brushing the tears from Paige’s cheeks.

In the quiet room, their son Jayden’s sweet little voice pipes up again, breaking the silence. "Mama, Mommy crying!"

The crowd laughs warmly, and Paige lets out a watery laugh of her own, "Yeah, buddy. Happy tears."

After their vows, CD steps forward with a warm smile, gently pulling everyone’s attention back to the ceremony. "Alright," she says, her voice calm yet celebratory. "Now, if you’ll both repeat after me, we’ll make this official."

Azzi and Paige exchange a brief glance, their hands still joined, both visibly brimming with anticipation. They go through the official readings, their voices steady yet filled with emotion, each word cementing their commitment to one another.

When it’s time for the rings, CD turns to Azzi first. "Azzi, do you take Paige to be your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Azzi doesn’t hesitate. She nods, her voice clear and sure. "I do."

Taking the wedding band, she gently slides it onto Paige’s left ring finger, her touch lingering as she finishes. Her eyes meet Paige’s, filled with love and certainty.

CD then turns to Paige. "Paige, do you take Azzi to be your wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Paige’s breath catches for a moment, her lips curving into a smile as she says, "I do." Her hand shakes slightly as she picks up the ring, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she slides it onto her left ring finger. Her voice softens, barely audible except to Azzi. "Forever."

CD looks at them both, her own smile growing as she says, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your wife."

Before Azzi can fully process the words, Paige is already moving, pulling Azzi toward her. Their lips meet in a deep, heartfelt kiss, a culmination of everything they’ve been through and everything they’ve been waiting for. Both of them sigh into the kiss, their arms wrapping around each other as the world melts away.

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, their families and friends celebrating the long-awaited union. But for Paige and Azzi, in that moment, nothing else matters but the person in their arms—their forever.

As they pull back from the kiss, a ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, drawing Paige and Azzi’s attention to a small commotion near the aisle. Jayden, who had somehow managed to wiggle free from Katie’s grasp, was clumsily making his way up the altar, his tiny legs moving with determined speed.

"Jayden!" Katie whispered out, trying to catch him, but he was already halfway there, his little face beaming with excitement at his mothers.

Paige chuckled, bending down to meet him as he reached the top. "Hey, buddy, what are you doing up here?" she asked, scooping him up effortlessly. But as soon as he was in her arms, Jayden leaned forward, his small hands reaching for Azzi.

"Mamma!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with pure joy.

Azzi laughed softly, stepping closer to take him from Paige’s hands. "You just couldn’t wait, could you?" she murmured, cradling him easily.

Jayden nestled into Azzi’s arms, his tiny fingers brushing her face as he babbled happily, completely oblivious to the significance of the moment. Paige leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Jayden’s temple, her heart full as she took in the sight of their little family.

Together, the three of them turned to face their guests, who were still applauding and cheering. Paige reached for Azzi’s free hand, lacing their fingers together, while Jayden waved excitedly at the crowd, basking in the attention he thought he was getting.

As they began their exit, walking down the aisle as a newly married couple, Jayden’s laughter filled the air, a perfect counterpoint to the joyous celebration around them. The three of them moved in sync, a seamless unit, their love evident to everyone watching.

As they reached the dressing room, Azzi gently shifted Jayden in her arms before setting him down on the carpeted floor. "Alright, Jay," she said with a grin, ruffling his hair. "Go burn off some of that energy while Mommy and I get ready."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He immediately toddled over to the vanity table, his tiny hands reaching for a brush and a bottle of lotion, his curiosity piqued at their shapes.

Azzi shook her head with a soft laugh. "He's always into something," she said, turning toward Paige, who was already stepping closer.

"Let him," Paige murmured, her voice low as she reached for Azzi's hands, pulling her gently toward her. Without hesitation, Paige leaned in, her lips capturing Azzi's in a slow, deliberate kiss. Her hands slid up Azzi's arms, pulling her closer as her body pressed against hers.

Azzi exhaled softly, her resolve melting as she got lost in the kiss, her hands instinctively resting on Paige’s neck. For a moment, everything else disappeared—their surroundings, the noise from outside the dressing room, even Jayden’s little voice humming in the background. It was just them, tangled in each other, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten.

But then, a soft clattering noise from Jayden’s direction pulled Azzi back to reality. She broke the kiss reluctantly, her forehead pressing against Paige's as she laughed breathlessly. "Paige," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of amusement and warning, "We can’t. Jay’s right there, baby."

Paige grinned, her lips brushing against Azzi’s again in a teasing peck. "He’s busy," she said, her tone playful.

Azzi shook her head, stepping back slightly but not releasing Paige’s hands. "I know, but if he turns around and sees anything, we’re going to have to explain why Mommy and Mama are glued together."

Paige smirked, her thumb brushing over the back of Azzi's hand. "Fair point," she conceded with a soft laugh, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back.

They both turned toward Jay, who was now intensely focused on trying to twist the cap off the lotion bottle now. Azzi crossed her arms, shaking her head. "We should probably intervene before he figures out how to make a mess."

Paige chuckled, walking over to scoop Jayden up in one swift motion. "Come here, troublemaker," she said, peppering his cheek with kisses as he giggled and squirmed in her arms.

Azzi watched them with a smile, her heart full as she took in the sight of her wife and son. "Alright," she said, grabbing the garment bag hanging on the nearby chair. "Let’s get ready for the reception before mister here decides to redecorate the room."

With laughter and lighthearted teasing, the three of them prepared for the next part of their perfect day.

…

The reception was in full swing, a joyful whirlwind of music, dancing, and heartfelt laughter. Azzi and Paige had been glued to each other all evening, their newlywed glow impossible to miss. Jayden had been whisked away earlier by Geno, who proclaimed his role as babysitter with such conviction that even Katie and Tim had no choice but to relent, laughing as they handed over the toddler and his overnight bag. 

As the night progressed, Paige’s affection toward Azzi grew bolder, fueled by a steady stream of drinks courtesy of Jon, Jose, and Drew, who had made it their personal mission to keep her glass perpetually full for whatever reason.

Earlier in the evening, as they moved through the crowd, Azzi mingled effortlessly, stopping every so often to chat with family and friends. Paige, however, was focused entirely on her wife, trailing close behind and using every opportunity to whisper suggestive comments into Azzi’s ear.

“Baby, do you realize how good you look tonight?” Paige murmured as they paused near the bar. Her lips brushed against Azzi’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Azzi tried to keep her composure, offering polite smiles to those around them. “Thank you, love. So do you.”

“Hmm, you think so?” Paige teased, her hand resting on the small of Azzi’s back. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Because I think this dress is unfair. Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands to myself when you look this good?”

Azzi blushed, shooting her a look. “Paige, behave. We’re not alone.”

Paige grinned, unbothered by the warning. “Doesn’t matter. I’m your wife now. Pretty sure that gives me the right to tell you exactly how much I want to peel this dress off you later.”

Azzi’s cheeks burned as she bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re irresistible,” Paige countered smoothly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s neck just enough to make her catch her breath before lightly smacking Paige’s stomach.

By the time they made it back around to the table, Paige’s teasing had reached new heights. They sat among a group of their old UConn teammates—Nika, KK, Ice, Aubrey, Caroline, Jana, Sarah, and Morgan—all of whom were thoroughly entertained by Paige’s antics.

Azzi was trying her best to engage in the lively conversation about their time in college, but Paige was making it nearly impossible. She kissed Azzi’s arm, then her shoulder, her lips trailing up to her neck as Azzi squirmed slightly in her seat.

"Paige, baby," Azzi whispered softly, attempting to pull back.

"Shh," Paige murmured, brushing her lips against Azzi’s ear. "Just let me kiss you. I’ve been waiting all day for this."

"She’s been waiting all day, Azzi," Nika quipped, laughing as she caught sight of Paige’s antics. "Let the girl have her moment."

Azzi shot her a playful glare. "You’re not helping."

"She’s a lover, what can we say?" KK added with a smirk.

"I can’t help it," Paige declared dramatically, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist. "Have you seen her tonight? She’s perfect."

“Okay, Paige, we get it,” Ice teased, raising her glass. “You’re married now. You won.”

"Exactly," Paige said, her voice dropping as she leaned closer to Azzi again. Her hand slid to Azzi’s thigh under the table, her lips brushing against her ear. "And later, when we’re alone, I promise I’m going to show you just how much I love you."

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she gently pushed Paige’s hand away. "Paige," she murmured, her voice firm but affectionate. "Not here baby."

Paige pouted, but the glint in her eye remained mischievous. "You’re no fun," she teased, resting her head on Azzi’s shoulder as the table erupted in laughter.

"You would think after all these years Paige wouldn’t still be this horny," Jana remarked, grinning from ear to ear.

Azzi laughed, her shoulders shaking as she responded, "I knew I was never going to get a break from day one, but I’ve learned to accept it," she added, looking at Paige.

"She’s going to tear into you," Aubrey said, shaking her head with a grin.

"You don’t say," Azzi replied dryly, though the fondness in her tone was unmistakable.

As the conversation continued, Paige remained firmly attached to Azzi, her lips brushing against her neck and cheek whenever she thought no one was looking. Azzi did her best to stay composed, but her teammates saw through it, exchanging amused glances.

"Azzi," Caroline teased, raising an eyebrow. "How are you even still upright right now?"

Azzi laughed, giving Paige’s hand a light squeeze. "It’s not easy, trust me," she replied, her gaze softening as she looked at her wife.

Paige grinned, pressing another kiss to Azzi’s cheek. "Good thing you’re strong, then," she murmured, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear.

"Good thing I love you," Azzi replied, shaking her head as Paige beamed at her, utterly unapologetic.

…

The two of them had drifted away from the group trying to get a moment alone amidst all the chaos. They were now tucked into a quieter corner table, the low lighting casting a warm glow over their entwined figures. Paige was still draped over Azzi, her lips brushing against her neck and collarbone as her hand rested possessively on Azzi’s thigh. By now, Azzi, having indulged in her fair share of drinks, was no longer holding back. She leaned fully into Paige’s affection, a soft, pleased smile tugging at her lips.

Azzi leaned into Paige’s touch, her breath quickening as Paige’s fingers gently tugged at the fabric of her dress. She let out a soft, pleased hum, feeling the heat between her legs intensify. Her hand found its way into Paige’s hair, gently pulling her closer, encouraging her to kiss the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” Azzi whispered, her voice thick with desire as she tilted her head, giving Paige more access.

Paige’s lips brushed over Azzi’s skin, her voice low and urgent. “I can’t stop,” she murmured, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric of Azzi’s dress again, her touch sending sparks through Azzi’s body. “You feel so good, just like this.”

Azzi’s breath caught, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “You make me feel good, too,” she purred, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down Paige’s spine.

Paige’s eyes darkened, the intensity of her gaze never leaving Azzi’s. Her fingers moved higher on Azzi’s thigh, inching dangerously close to where they both wanted her touch the most. “You’re so perfect,” Paige whispered, her lips grazing the side of Azzi’s neck again, her words dripping with want. “I can’t wait to feel all of you in my hand.”

Azzi’s body responded immediately, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as she bit her lip, fighting the urge to close the space between them completely with them still being in public. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” she murmured, her voice coming out breathlessly as she met Paige’s eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”

Paige’s lips found Azzi’s neck again, this time lingering there, pressing slow kisses along the skin. Her fingers traced the hem of Azzi’s dress, slipping under it just slightly as she tugged the fabric again, a subtle but clear request for more.

Azzi let out a low moan, her hand gripping Paige’s shoulder as she gave in to the temptation. “Paige...” she whispered, her voice rough with desire. “I can’t wait, baby. I want you. Right now.”

Paige’s breath hitched at the sound of Azzi’s words, the intensity of her longing for her wife growing. “God, Azzi,” she murmured, her lips brushing against her wife’s ear again, voice thick with need. “You have no idea what I wanna do to you.”

Azzi purred softly, her fingers now threading through Paige’s hair, tugging her face closer, her lips meeting Paige’s in a desperate, desperate kiss. “I think I do,” she whispered between kisses. “And I love every second of imagining it.”

Paige responded with a hum of satisfaction, her hand sliding higher on Azzi’s thigh, pulling her even closer. Their bodies moved against each other, the urgency of their desire palpable in their kiss. Neither of them could get enough.

But just as their kiss deepened, the air around them changed with a loud laugh echoing from the main reception area, shattering their intimate bubble. The sound cut through the haze of desire, pulling their attention back to reality.

Azzi broke the kiss, her eyes flicking to Paige, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Guess we’re not alone after all,” she murmured, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze.

Paige let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers still tracing the curve of Azzi’s thigh. “Too bad,” she said, her voice low and husky, though there was a playful spark in her eyes. “I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

Azzi chuckled softly, resting her forehead against Paige’s for a brief moment before pulling back to glance toward the reception. “Me too,” she agreed, though the fire in her eyes remained undiminished. 

Both women groaned softly, reluctant to return to the party. Paige rested her forehead against Azzi’s again for a moment, her voice quiet but firm. “This isn’t over,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Azzi’s.

Azzi smirked, her thumb brushing over Paige’s cheek. “It better not be,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Their stolen moment left them both buzzing, hearts racing as they turned their attention back to the lively reception, counting down the moments until they could finally be alone.

…

When they finally reached their hotel room, the door had barely clicked shut before Paige spun Azzi around and pressed her firmly against it. The force of the move drew a startled gasp from Azzi, her back hitting the wood as Paige’s long fingers wrapped possessively around her throat.

Their lips immediately collided in a messy, passionate kiss, all restraint from earlier completely gone now. Paige’s movements were uncoordinated but intense, her need for Azzi clear as their tongues tangled. Azzi moaned into her mouth, her hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for balance, completely lost in the moment.

Paige didn’t waste a second. Her knee slid between Azzi’s legs, pressing up just enough to draw a sharp inhale from her wife. Azzi panted against Paige’s lips, her head tipping back slightly as Paige broke the kiss and began trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

“You look so good like this ma,” Paige whispered against Azzi’s skin, her voice a mix of slur and desire. Her teeth grazed Azzi’s collarbone before her lips followed, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this? About making you mine like this?”

Azzi shuddered, her hands clutching the fabric of Paige’s shirt as she let out a soft laugh, her voice shaky but teasing. “You’re acting like you haven’t already had me a million times,” she murmured, her words broken by a gasp as Paige’s knee pressed harder against her.

Paige smirked against her neck, her grip on Azzi’s throat tightening ever so slightly. “Not like this baby,” she murmured, her voice thick with intent. “This is different. You’re my wife now. Forever mine.”

Paige’s words hung in the air, thick with promise, but before she could fully process the weight of them, Azzi’s hands were on her shoulders, pulling her in for another kiss. This one was frantic, desperate—a reflection of both their needs, the alcohol still thick on their breaths as they kissed wildly. Their lips barely met before they pulled away, only to crash together again. The kiss was messy, unrefined, but that was the point—it was as if neither of them could get close enough, couldn’t have enough of the other after today.

Azzi’s fingers tightened in Paige’s hair as she broke the kiss, panting against her lips. “You’re mine too, Paige,” Azzi breathed out, voice ragged. “Forever.”

Paige’s heart raced at the sound of Azzi’s declaration, but Azzi wasn’t done. She pushed gently against Paige’s shoulders, urging her to kneel before her. Paige didn’t hesitate, following the command without question. She sank to her knees in front of Azzi, eyes dark with desire as she looked up at her wife.

Azzi took a small step back, then looked down at Paige, her own eyes dark and needy. Without missing a beat, she ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, guiding her forward. Paige’s lips trailed up Azzi’s legs, leaving kisses as she went, the sensation sending tremors through Azzi’s body.

Azzi’s breath hitched with every kiss. “God, Paige,” she gasped, her voice shaky as Paige’s lips pressed against her thighs as she pushed her dress up, leaving marks in their wake. Each kiss made her more vocal, unable to hold back the sounds of pleasure bubbling up from deep within her. Her fingers tightened in Paige’s hair as she pulled her closer, desperate for more.

Paige’s lips moved higher, leaving teasing kisses up the inside of Azzi’s thigh. “Imma make you feel so good baby,” Paige muttered against her skin, the words almost reverent. She wasn’t just speaking, she was showing it—the pressure of her lips and hands as she kissed Azzi’s thinly covered center, fueling the desire that had been building since the moment they stepped into the room.

Azzi’s body shivered with each kiss. “Fuck, Paige,” she breathed, her voice raw. She ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, pulling impossibly closer to her as she looked down at her wife. “You don’t even know how much I need you right now.”

Paige responded with a low groan as she pushed her underwear to the side, her lips and tongue brushing against Azzi, this time slower, more deliberate, as she gazed up at her wife through her hooded blue eyes. “Nah baby I can tell. You taste so good for me.” 

Azzi’s breath catches in her throat, her chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. She runs her fingers through Paige’s hair, tugging her closer, as if desperate for more. “You make it so hard to think, Paige…” Azzi whispers, her voice shaky. “Every time you look at me like that, I forget everything. I forget who I am.”

Paige smiles, as she continues her work as Azzi grinds her hips into Paige trying to create more friction despite Paige lapping at her like she hadn’t had Azzi in years. “Baby, fuck, you feel so good” Azzi whimpers. Paige simply hums at this as she drapes Azzi’s leg over her shoulder to drive her tongue in deeper.

Azzi throws her head back against the door, gripping Paige’s head and anything else she can to steady herself. With her voice low and breathy and tinged with awe she says, “Mmm I knew you’d be like this tonight–Fuck baby don’t stop–I love it when you fuck me like this baby. Feels so good.”  

Azzi’s words spur Paige on more as she continues her work expertly, knowing exactly what Azzi likes after all these years. The pressure of Paige’s tongue makes Azzi’s breath catch, her eyes fluttering closed as she becomes overwhelmed with the feeling but she leans into it, pushing her hips towards Paige as the tension coils tighter in her stomach. 

Azzi is basically riding Paige’s face as Paige looks up at her mumbling, “You gonna come for me baby?” 

She makes the mistake of looking down at Paige whose mouth is wet and her pupils are completely dilated. Azzi immediately throws her head back as she starts making pornographic sounds with her throat, “Mmm fuck Paige baby–No…no not yet baby. Fuck I don’t want it to end you’re doing so good.” 

This only spurs Paige on more at her wife not wanting to come undone for her so she drives her tongue deeper as she works her thumb in circles. Azzi’s body trembles, her eyes now watching Paige despite every instinct inside her wanting her to look away. She’s fighting the pull of pleasure that wants her to come undone right at this moment even though she knows Paige doesn’t like that. 

Azzi’s eyes are blurry now as she tries to keep herself under control for a few more seconds but Paige curls her tongue a certain way and Azzi finds releasing the tension in her stomach, “Yes…yes right there baby… don’t stop baby. Right there please. I’m ready to cum for you baby” Azzi gasps her body arching off of the door as she feels a wave of sensation crashing through her as her mouth falls open in pure bliss, her legs shaking as Paige holds her up.  

Before Azzi can fully recover Paige is kissing up her body leaving open mouth kisses in Azzi’s favorite spots. Once she reaches her lips Paige immediately pulls Azzi in for a kiss, putting her tongue in her wifes mouth so she can taste herself causing Azzi to moan. 

As their kiss deepens, Paige’s hands slide down Azzi’s body, one of them drifting behind her, fingers grazing her spine. And with a slight tug, she unzips Azzi’s dress, the sound of the zipper scraping against the fabric filling the air between them. Azzi moans into the kiss as the fabric loosens exposing her back to the air, before Paige pulls it down with ease, revealing the purple lingerie beneath. The sight makes Paige’s breath hitch, her eyes darkening further if possible as she gazes at her wife standing in front of her.

Azzi's hands press firmly against Paige’s chest, gently pushing her back toward the bed, her lips swollen and flushed, her breathing ragged. "Get on the bed for me, baby," Azzi demands in a voice thick with need, her hands already moving to the buttons of Paige’s shirt before she just pulls at the fabric with urgency, the buttons flying off in every direction, scattering across the floor.

Paige lets out a breathy laugh, the moment only spurring her desire. She stands still, letting Azzi remove the shirt, her skin now exposed except for the tight-fitting tank top she’s wearing underneath. Azzi runs her hands over Paige’s bare skin, her fingers grazing over her ribs, before locking eyes with her and dragging her hand down her torso. “You look so good, baby,” Azzi whispers, her voice low, full of hunger and admiration.

Paige smiles, her heart racing, as she climbs onto the bed, pulling Azzi along with her. Azzi follows, crawling up to her in the most seductive way as she moves with an almost hypnotic rhythm that makes Paige want to take her right there again and again. When Azzi finally straddles Paige, the sight is enough to send Paige’s heart into overdrive. Her breath catches as she whispers, "You have no idea what you do to me. Even after all these years.” 

Azzi’s lips curled into a teasing smile, her confidence radiating as she leaned down to press her mouth against Paige’s neck. She moved slowly, her kisses deliberate and sensual, each one igniting a trail of shivers that coursed through Paige’s body. Azzi had perfected this art over time, each touch an unspoken testament to how well she knew Paige—every sensitive spot, every little weakness.

Her long hair tumbled to one side, the strands brushing against Paige’s skin and adding to the electric intimacy of the moment. Azzi kissed her way lower, unhurried, savoring the effect she was having as Paige’s breath quickened, her body instinctively arching into Azzi’s.

When Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s belt, her movements were smooth and practiced, each motion deliberate, carrying the weight of countless nights like this, where Azzi had mastered the balance of teasing and taking control. With a flick of her fingers, the belt came undone, her slow pace almost maddening, a silent assertion of her dominance in this moment which started as soon as she had Paige on her knees for her. Paige’s breath hitched, a sound that sent a satisfied smirk spreading across Azzi’s lips.

The way Azzi carried herself now, every kiss, every touch, was brimming with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. Their years together had transformed their intimacy into something deeper, richer—a choreography of passion honed by countless nights of exploration and learning each other’s bodies.

“Still with me, baby?” Azzi whispered against Paige’s skin, her voice velvet-soft but dripping with confidence, knowing full well that Paige was at her mercy.

Paige throws her head back in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets. In that moment, she realizes how completely she’s fallen into Azzi’s orbit—how grateful she is that she crossed that line with her all those years ago. That night, when she had first given in to Azzi's pull, back when they were just friends, and how it changed everything between them. Now, after everything they’ve been through, after their wedding, this moment felt like the perfect culmination of everything they had built together. She’s never been this sure, this needy for someone in the way she is for Azzi.. 

“God, Azzi,” Paige breathes out, her voice raw with desire as she lifts her hips slightly, giving Azzi more access.

Azzi grins, pulling the belt free with a soft tug before gliding her hands under the waistband of Paige’s pants. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and yet, Azzi takes her time, savoring every second. “You’re my wife now,” Azzi murmurs, her voice low and full of intention, as her hands slowly inch the fabric down.

The words send a rush of heat through Paige, and for a split second, she’s left wondering how she ever lived without this intensity, this connection. The thought lingers, and she shivers in anticipation as Azzi finally pulls the pants down, exposing more of Paige’s skin.

Azzi runs her hands over Paige’s legs, feeling the warmth of her body, the soft curves beneath her fingertips. The contact is electric, and it’s almost too much for Paige to handle. "God Azzi, I don’t know how you make me feel like this," Paige manages to gasp, lifting her hips again, silently begging Azzi to take control, to take her.

Azzi pauses, her gaze locking with Paige’s, her eyes dark with desire. “Let me show you,” Azzi whispers, leaning down to kiss her again. But this time, it’s slower—deeper. Azzi’s lips trace the curve of Paige’s jaw, down her neck, stopping to leave a trail of heated kisses that make Paige’s pulse quicken.

Each kiss is a promise, each touch a question Azzi asks without words. Paige can’t help but respond, her hands reaching for Azzi’s bra, unclasping it free from her body, desperate to feel her bare skin against hers. The fabric falls to the floor, and Paige’s fingers wander to the skimpy waistband of Azzi’s underwear, mimicking the way Azzi had undressed her moments ago, eager to return the pleasure.

Azzi’s lips find their way to Paige’s ear, where she whispers, “You want me again, don’t you? Want me as much as I want you?”

Paige nods, her breathing ragged as she pulls Azzi closer, wrapping her legs around her waist. “More than anything,” she whispers back, her voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Azzi pulls back just enough to meet her eyes again, her gaze softening for a moment, a glimmer of affection mixed with the raw desire between them. “You have me, Paige. All of me…forever.” Then she kisses her deeply once more, taking the time to savor the connection between them, each kiss a declaration of everything they’ve built, everything they’re about to share.

The weight of everything settles in as Paige pulls Azzi close, the years of being apart, of growing their family together, and the joy of finally, fully being together. This moment is everything they’ve worked for, everything they’ve fought for. And as their hands trace each other’s bodies, as they continue to lose themselves in each other, Paige realizes that this is it—the final chapter. Their journey, their story, culminating here, in this moment of complete love and understanding. It’s not just the start of a new life together; it’s the closing of a long, beautiful journey.

As the kiss lingers between them, soft and filled with everything they’ve learned about each other, about love, the two of them finally fall into the peace that only being truly with each other can bring. There are no more games, no more uncertainties, just the two of them, completely and utterly intertwined in a love that has lasted years, and will continue forever.

[davidlikebowie-noturaccountant]

okay this is fully rushed and just the first part because i’m sleepy tired but

i wasn’t TOTALLY sure if the au was meant to be like neil still tries and fails or what but that was how i read it and so the following also tw for references to suicide (canon compliant)

anyway there will probs be a part two… tomorrow? idk but i hope u like it op (i may have accidentally made it less of a silly goofy au and more of too much internal serious reflection whoopsies)

When Neil comes to, it’s in a sterile room. Bleak, white light filters in from the open door, and he is…… completely alone. It’s silent, save for the intermittent beeping of the machines, and everything hurts. For a moment, a blessed, easy moment, he can’t remember where he is, or why he’s there. And then it all comes crashing back, a 12-foot wave of pain, guilt, and regret. Then the heavy sadness. It didn’t work. He’s trapped. God fucking damn it, can he do anything right?

In the drawing-room, Tom and Eleanor are sitting by the phone, quiet. Grief had washed away the anger that stood staunch in that room only days before, and uncertainty continued to pool in them. And then they got the phone call. It felt like a miracle. Eleanor had fallen into Tom, crying, once again, but for the first time in ages, the tears were those of relief. Their family was going to be okay. They could heal from this.

The months that followed were hard. The hardest they’d ever had to reckon with. Neil, somehow, blessedly, escaped without lasting damage to his brain. When he was left alone for any longer than a moment, it weighed on him. When he had gone into the study that night, he had felt… steady. Sure. More sure than he’d been in a while. Resolute. And– in the wake of that– to find out he’d been foiled by a shaky hand, it felt like a cruel slap to the face. As time wore on, he tried hard to find the lust for life he’d briefly gotten his hands on, but his parents had deliberated, they’d decided to send him away, and they only told the school he’d- nothing after. And send him away they did, somewhere where he couldn’t make long-distance calls, and any calls he would have tried to make were long-distance. He was completely cut off from the person he used to be, and the people who had made him that person. Total isolation. He barely heard from his parents, save the occasional letter reminding him of the expectations they had. Forget lust for life, he hardly had it in him to resist. He was back to square one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 32, Neil felt as if he stopped needing to adjust to things, or maybe he only just realised it. Suburban New Jersey was both exactly like Vermont and a far, far cry from it. He rarely let himself think about Vermont, though. The person he was before he went to military school in Scotland. Before what he only lets himself refer to as “The Incident.”

He’s a far cry from that person now. Dwelling on it only serves to make him sad. So, he settles into his new routine, and for a while, he forces himself, pointedly, not to think about how close he is to Vermont. Then, as time continues to pass, that becomes routine too. Suppressed without him having to think about it. He finds, in time, that he likes the bustle of the hospital. There’s no time for him to think past his cases. Saves him from himself some days.

The pager on his belt beeps, and he sees the code on the little screen. The one which means he has a new patient. And he steps back into the routine, going to the emergency room to do his job. One foot in front of the other. He has to remind himself sometimes not to mourn. He did his time, he felt his grief. Even 16 years later, it tries to get on top of him. But, his job keeps it at bay. Occupies his mind. Most days, he can hardly remember he used to be a different person. Some days he feels it brewing, just under the surface of his attention. It doesn’t get on top of him though. Never.

So, when he pulls the curtain back, clipboard in hand, his mind is blessedly empty, his gait is sure, and he doesn’t think twice about only skimming the chart he was handed for symptoms. Usually, he just takes the patient history himself. So, he walks in, as secure as he can be, doing the job he knows he’s good at.

He knows the EMTs had to resuscitate. From the beeping, he can tell that the pulse is still thready. But there. He knows the basics from his perfunctory skim of the chart. Overdose, patient’s pulse was lost for 3 seconds while unresponsive. This seems fairly easy, comparatively. He knows what to do. He’s well trained. He’s secure in his knowledge. Resolute.

And then he looks up from his clipboard.

It’s amazing how much 16 years can change a person. Features age, the angles of youth soften. But there are some things about a person that don’t change. A laugh, a smile.

Big blue eyes.

There are some things about a person you can never forget. He glances down at his chart. And there it is, the thing he didn’t read, in the same swoopy handwriting he remembered from- then.

Todd Anderson.

Fuck.

after seeing clips from tape and house I can only think of an anderperry au where Neil doesn’t die, but gets sent away and becomes a doctor. The next time he and Todd meet? Todd overdosed. You just have to hear me out for this one:

“Neil! We all thought you died!”

“Well I didn’t. You though? You did. Legally. For three whole seconds. Todd what the fuck?”

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[crivalsduo]

holiday spirit

my final fic for @alterdnbweek! i'm so sorry it's a day late, i hope you enjoy.

Techno’s neck was stiff and his back was sore. If he could feel his arm, it would likely be sore as well but his arm had fallen asleep, pinned between Dream’s boney side and the floor. A blanket was haphazardly spread out beneath, all lumps, because neither of them had intended to fall asleep. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing Techno remembered clearly was laughing as Dream was lying practically on top of him, arguing about who was lamer.

With a yawn, Techno tilted his head left and then right, trying to work out the kink in his neck. Dream was still asleep, turned towards Techno, chest rising and falling steadily. A bit of drool had pooled in the corner of his mouth and his ear flicked occasionally. Techno smiled.

He’s probably gonna have one heck of a headache.

There was a headache trying to creep up on Techno. It was dancing around the edges of his vision. The sunlight that was streaming into the room, brightened by the fresh snow outside, didn’t help matters. But he hadn’t been drunk enough last for the headache to take hold and he hadn’t been drunk enough to forget Dream’s earnest response to his teasing. The pillow that they had tossed back and forth was shoved between them now. Techno lifted his free arm, flexed his fingers, and brushed them against Dream’s cheek. His fur-covered nose twitched but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry, man, I really gotta pee,” Techno whispered as he carefully pulled his arm out from under Dream. It didn’t wake him though he curled up into himself further. Techno took a moment to toss the part of the blanket he’d been lying on over Dream before he stood. His knees creaked when he stood and he made a mental note not to sleep on the floor again. He ducked under some of the holiday decorations hanging in the archway between the living room and the kitchen as he headed towards the bathroom.

By the time he was done, hands still wet and smelling of soap, Dream was still asleep on the floor.

“Dream.” Crouching down next to him, Techno put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. The thought crossed his mind that it’d be kinda funny if he splashed some cold water on him but the look on Dream’s face last night when that confession had slipped out stopped him. Techno gently shook him. “Wakey wakey, Dream.”

One green eye opened and then the other.

“Huh…?”

Sleep was making him slow and it took him a moment to assess the situation, pushing himself up and looking around. A piece of his hear had fallen in front of his face and Techno reached out to brush it back. Dream watched him.

“I said, it’s time to wake up. You’re sleepin’ right in the middle of my floor,” said Techno, hand lingering near Dream’s shoulder as he fully sat upright with a yawn.

“Your—” Another yawn. This one was followed by a disgruntled noise. “Your eggnog sucks, Techno. I feel like shit.”

Techno laughed, doing his best to keep his volume low though it still earned him a feigned dirty look from Dream.

“I don’t think it was the eggnog’s fault, man.”

Looking over at the mug he had shoved under the bookshelf last night (it was now knocked over and pushed further back and if they had taken a closer look, they would’ve found fox fur sticking to it), Dream shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said and held out a hand. Techno took it immediately, lacing their fingers together. A bemused smile twitched across Dream’s face. “Help me up.”

Techno’s cheeks were hot and bright red. He should have known that’s what Dream meant. In hindsight it was obvious. He cleared his throat and stood, pulling Dream up with him.

“Right, right. I knew that.”

Dream wobbled a little, leaning into Techno’s side. He was leaning more than Techno thought was needed, even with the cloud of sleep and eggnog induced hangover clinging to him. A curse was muttered under Dream’s breath about the prosthetic leg before he straightened and looked at Techno. It was the perfect chance for Dream to tease him but that would mean coming very close to acknowledging what had happened last night.

“You—You definitely didn’t,” said Dream.

Both of Techno’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Y’know what, you’re right, Dream. I did think you wanted to hold my hand.”

Now it was Dream’s turn to blush, pink and splotchy beneath the thin layer of tan fur.

“Oh my god.”

He had nothing else to say to that and Techno grinned. The fire had gone out – Techno hadn’t planned to fall asleep and so hadn’t put a log or two on – and a slight chill crept into the room. Still leaning into him, Dream was warm and Techno smiled.

“How about I make you some tea?” he asked. “It might help with your headache.”

There was a moment of hesitation and Techno knew that he was debating denying the existence of the headache that was obvious in the way Dream was squinting and his ears were pressed flat. But he nodded, loop his arm around Techno’s. It wasn’t far to the kitchen but Dream’s gait was stiff and he stopped to yawn. Techno glanced up then nudged Dream lightly with his shoulder.

“Look, Dream. Mistletoe.”

Dream’s ears shot forward and he looked up.

“What!? Why—You put mistletoe up?”

The mistletoe was hanging down in the middle of the doorway, between garlands of sweetberry branches. A few red and green plaid bows that had Niki’s distinct flair where nestled in the leaves as well. Techno vaguely remembered helping to hang the garland but if had noticed the mistletoe then, he didn’t remember. He also wasn’t that upset about it.

“It’s a tradition,” said Techno.

“It’s stupid,” said Dream. His cheeks were still pink.

Techno lowered his head just a little.

“It’s festive. C’mon, where’s your holiday spirit?”

The way Dream rolled his eyes with a huff was expected. Techno had seen that exact expression on Dream’s face dozens of times and he never got tired of the amused, mischievous glint in Dream’s eyes that came with it. The crooked grin that his scarred mouth was pulled into was also expected and it was another thing that Techno never got tired of, that after everything, he still found reasons to smile. What was unexpected was the kiss.

Dream tilted his chin up, grin still on his face, and pressed his mouth against Techno’s. It took Techno a second. A noise of surprise tried to work its way out of his throat but he pressed a hand against Dream’s side, carefully tugging him closer, and kissed him back. The kiss tasted like morning breath and old eggnog and cinnamon and Techno could have kissed him just like that forever. The slow, hesitant way Dream finally pulled back made Techno think he felt the same way.

“How’s—How’s that for holiday spirit.”

Techno laughed.

“Smooth, Dream,” he said and kissed him again.

[heylorrain]

"𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒴𝓊𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝓁" - 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 #𝟕

“Are you sure we won't get in trouble for being here?” I asked in a low voice, trying to tiptoe but my heels were making it impossible. 

“Well… No. Maybe?… technically we shouldn't.” Ominis whispered, leading the way through Hogwarts forgotten corridors, his wand being the only source of light around us. 

“Technically? Well that’s comforting” 

Finally, we stumbled upon a partially open wooden door, blackened with age and adorned with floral carvings. Ghosts floated lazily in and out, their laughter echoing off the walls. They wore elegant, puffy dresses reminiscent of medieval times. Ominis ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his nerves betraying him as he cleared his throat with a nervous energy. He then extended his arm towards me, a glint of excitement shining in his bright eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asked eagerly, his voice with both confidence and anticipation.

“Wha-here?” I hesitantly took his arm, not fully understanding where he was taking me. But without any further explanation, we descended down a narrow staircase. A ghostly figure appeared before us, its ethereal form nearly translucent against the dim lighting. With a subtle inclination of his head, Ominis signaled for the apparition to part the rich green velvet curtain. As it slid open, it revealed a sight that took my breath away:

Spectrums chatted, danced and swirled to the haunting melodies played by a ghostly orchestra, in the center of what appeared to be, a grand ballroom. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting eerie scenes and a pale chandelier casted a ghostly glow over the space. In one corner, a large table was set with decaying and rotting food, barely illuminated by flickering ghostly candles.

"Welcome to the Deathday Ballroom," Ominis said proudly, lowering his wand and releasing my arm as I stepped forward, completely mesmerized by the scene before me. My eyes were drawn to a nervous almost trembling ghost, off to the side, mustering up the courage to ask a lady ghost for a dance. I stood there, taking in every detail of this hauntingly beautiful moment. It seemed this ghost had been trying to work up the nerve for quite some time now.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Ominis whispered, approaching me from behind.  

“I hope so… he seems so nervous” I giggled. 

"It can be nerve-wracking to ask someone for a dance, you know" Ominis mused with understanding. 

Turning around I realized Gaunt was holding a candle, a real one, and the ghosts had made some room around us. Seeing his intentions I immediately protested:

“I-I’m not much of a dancer… Ominis” I could feel the blush spreading throughout my face, reaching my ears.

“May I be the judge of that tonight?” 

He stretched out his hand. I took it immediately, almost in reflex, mentally scolding myself for being so easily drawn in. With a charming smile, he pulled me closer and proceeded to explain

“If we manage to dance without the candle blowing out that’ll mean we’re- erm- … good dancers indeed” his words almost tripping over each other as he finished the sentence. 

“More likely a sign that you two are destined to be with each other, but sure you can go with the dancing theory too, my friend” A ghost yelled from across the room, his partner playfully punched him on the shoulder, trying to quiet him down. We both chuckled at the interruption, but I couldn't help wondering if there was some truth in those words. 

Ominis made a graceful, sweeping motion with his wand, illuminating the candle and placing it delicately between our hands. The music began to play a hauntingly beautiful melody, signaling the start of our dance. Ominis' steps were precise and deliberate, each movement calculated and elegant as he led me through a simple yet intimate ballad. All around us, I could see every ghost clapping and cheering with excitement. Some even joined us on the dance floor, drawing some attention away from us - a relief for which I silently thanked Merlin.

My eyes darted around nervously, avoiding Ominis' blind gaze at all costs. It was ironic that he couldn't physically see, yet I was terrified of him seeing right through me, exposing all of my insecurities and flaws. Was I dancing terribly? Will our candle burn out? and why did I suddenly care so deeply about the words of that ghost?

“Lorrain, what is it that you are looking for? I’m right here” He finally spoke. I was certain he could sense my nervousness, my breath came out in rapid bursts as we continued to dance inevitably getting closer to each other. 

“I-I’m sorry it’s just…” My words stumble out, no filter left to shield me from his piercing gaze.”The attention, the stares, the dance. Maybe this was a mistake, letting you bring me here”

“Mmm is that so? What is it that unsettles you most?”

“Their eyes on us…on me”

“Close your eyes then.” His simple suggestion seemed so childish to me. 

“What if I close them? They won’t be able to see me?” I mocked, trying to mask my fear.

“Precisely”.

“Really? just like that?” I thought to myself. I followed his advice and closed my eyes tightly shut. In this darkness, I felt strangely safe and vulnerable at once. I gave in to the rhythm, trusting him to guide me. Every step, every turn, was an act of surrender.

Fear still gripped at me as we moved around the room, always on the edge of colliding with something. But I held onto him, feeling a newfound trust and connection. The music picked up pace and my mind screamed for me to open my eyes, but I squeezed them tighter and let out a deep breath. Allowing my body to relax and trust in his lead. And as we continued to dance, our movements became more fluid and synchronized. 

I inched closer to him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against my cheek, finally relaxing as we continued to swirl, the music almost reaching its ending.

When it finally did, I slightly pulled away, close enough to feel his breath on my skin, my heart still pounding from the thrill of being in his arms.

I peaked with my left eye, seeing the candle still flickering between our hands, a small flame enduring in the darkness. 

“Thank you for guiding me”

“Thank you for trusting me” 

. . .

👉 Huge thanks to @leaping-toadstool-caps for taking the time on doing the Yule Ball dynamic and ofc my @ravenwind-75 for reminding me of it! 😂😅 👉 Hear me out: I know this is not exactly AT the Yule Ball but it happens during it... They said hello, drank a bit of butterbeer and left...hope this still counts! hehehe 🥹

👉 Lorrain was originally created for a Yule Ball oneshot, that eventually became her entire story-lore-background-everything she is now, so this event means a lot. 💓

👉 Have you seen the ghost that is trying to ask another lady ghost for a dance in the game???? they're the cutest! 🥹

👉 The song playing while they danced is this master piece:

👉 Also, Crimson Peak references anyone? 🤲❤️‍🔥

[nuggeteri]

pour @jean-phillipedelaporte

(for my best french friend except it's in English let's go.)

(I take any and all requests about the life series.)

-

Scott took a step back.

He was in the Cod Lands.

He didn't know why, per say. A few hours ago, he could've asked his council and they'd probably have given him a dozen good reasons for him to be here. But right at this moment, Scott didn't think any reason would be worth endangering Jimmy.

Or, well, the Codfather, but he insisted on being referred to as Jimmy by Scott, for some weird reason. Even if he got all riled up whenever Fwhip dared to utter that name. He guessed that came with allyship.

It didn't matter either way--he didn't even know if that offer still stood true or not. He definitely wasn't allied with Fwhip anymore, his standing with Gem was shaky at best, and he's still not solved the conflict between him and Shubble. If he had the misfortune of fucking it all up, Jimmy definitely could take him in a fight.

Which was a weird thought, wasn't it? The Cod Lands had always been made fun of for being the weakest Empire. Standing here, though, Scott couldn't help but feel as though power meant nothing if he didn't have allies.

Katherine wouldn't help him in a war--she'd be allied with his ennemies. And Jimmy actually had many allies, like the Copper King, Queen Lizzie and King Joel.

He's spiraling, he knew this. It didn't stop him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice interrupted his thought process--it couldn't be anyone other than Jimmy. And he sounded so friendly, Scott didn't even know why he was spiraling in the first place.

(A step back and frost on the ground told him exactly why, but he gulped and ignored it. He had things to do here---though he couldn't remember what.)

"You're not helping your case here." He said instead of voicing any of his thoughts. Why would he ever, anyway? Jimmy just looked at him--brows furrowing making the confusion crystal clear on his face. "What case?"

"With the nickels." He clarified and Jimmy just groaned---getting a chuckle out of Scott.

"What do you want anyway Scott?" He asked to change the subject. Scott let's him--he'd let Jimmy do anything.

"I can't quite recall," He answered honestly.

"It has been a while since we've seen each other. We can just hang out."

The reminder hit him right in the gut.

He hadn't seen anyone in a while because he'd been away doing his pity party in the Wastes, leaving his council in charge while he figured out his powers. Not like he ever did, anyway.

"We can't." Scott answered, once more, honestly. "I'm a busy man." Which is not all that honest, but it would get the job done...

"Busy visiting my Empire?" And that is the worse. Jimmy is not calling him out on his bullshit, his voice is filled with pure curiosity. Scott plays on it. "We don't have a lot of books on mer-above-land culture."

Which wasn't untrue.

"The Cod Lands are young, my apologies. We don't have many historians yet."

Yet they could beat him in a war, because Scott didn't have allies.

He sighed and looked over the horizon--it being the ocean. As an Avian, he could see further than most species, meaning he could see the outline of the Ocean Empire from here.

"Rivendell has always loved writing. I don't doubt I could send some journalists your way, then?" He proposed, because while he was curious---he also didn't want to make his visit worthless.

(There was Jimmy. How could anything ever be worthless if there was Jimmy? Scott's really selfish, isn't he?)

"That wouldn't bother me at all. More exposure, really. My Empire also loves writing, mostly stories though."

Rivendell... Doesn't actually have many fiction writing, really. Autobiographies, sure, plenty of poems and historical books, but very few novels. "You've peeked my attention."

"The Cod Empire is just approaching it's fifteen birthday. Most our authors are teens, believe it or not. Creating romance between mer, because they have never seen it depicted. It's quite sweet. I don't imagine they have the talent of full fledged Rivendell authors, though." Jimmy didn't know that Rivendell didn't actually have any novel authors. He doesn't break the news to him yet, though.

"Have some faith, art is art. I have never seen mer love stories. Care to share?"

"It can vary a lot. From coral to kelp, hot and cold waters, sand dust and gravel, mud and dirt. Ice, too."

Ice?

"Ice?"

"Yeah, well, ice is water, is it not? Water magic can still control it."

"Really?" He can't help but thinks about his magic. "How come you haven't shown it in Rivendell?"

"That would be an act of war, wouldn't it? Affecting the environment without consent." He said and Scott can't help but think about the many empires he's accidentally frozen. "But we also kinda did. The pond, the cod never really died when it got frozen over, did they?"

Jimmy knew about that? It wasn't the time to dwell on it, though, because Jimmy was.. right.

His hands start to form fists. He can feel ice spreading on his palm and he didn't want it to get out of control.

"Come on, big guy, let me see," The Codfather said as he approached Scott--Scott took one step back, simply one, which is why Jimmy gets to him and softly takes his hand.

In a matter of seconds, it all melts back to water.

"See? Ice doesn't only have sharp edges."

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: The rebels on Atollon base take a much-needed rest for the holidays. However, Sabine is not in a festive mood since she has noticed Ezra slipping away during some nights to spend time with Nadia Arcossa, a beautiful young Rebel pilot that has recently joined the Rebel cell. With no one on the Ghost crew willing to disclose what her best friend is up to, an increasingly jealous Sabine decides to investigate . . .

For @ana-cantskywalker

Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy this present from your Secret Santa.

Her quarry was slowly approaching, Sabine could sense. With quiet, steady footsteps, walking into the Ghost's communal area. The hour was late - or early, depending on how you viewed it; Sabine had been lying in wait since the early evening, choosing her spot carefully for its vantage point. It was during these moments that she felt grateful for her time spent in the bounty hunter business with Ketsu. Hunting and tracking, something ingrained into every Mandalorian warrior since birth, could only truly be honed with experience.

In the shadows she waited, senses keen and sharp, tracking her target. She inhaled slightly as he entered cautiously into the room; a familiar, pleasant musk drifted over to her.

Sweat.

Not from being nervous, but from whatever physical activity he had been doing in the hours prior. What could he be doing that would cause him to sweat during this late at night, she wondered.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, gut churning at the twisting feelings arising within her.

There was a quick exhalation of breath from the quarry, signaling relief. He seemed to think the coast was clear - that no one had been watching and waiting for his return.

Sabine smirked. Your mistake, goober.

She snapped her fingers. The lights came on.

Frozen, like a loth-cat caught within a trap, standing in the communal area entryway mid-step, was her best friend, Ezra Bridger, Jedi-in-training. Eyes wide, mouth agape, his sky-blue eyes swiveled over to her, sitting calmly at the nearby round table they used for meetings.

A choking noise came from the young Jedi's mouth. Sabine enjoyed watching her panic for a few seconds, savoring the sheer look of terror on his face, before speaking.

"Hey, Ezra," she said casually. "Where ya been?"

He was already sidling away from her, trying to go back out the doorway. "Uh . . . nowhere."

She leaned forward, smiling wolfishly. "Nowhere? Hmmm. I don't think so."

A solid mass of fur and muscle appeared behind Ezra suddenly, blocking his way out. He slowly turned around to find Zeb standing there, the Lasat's meaty arms folded across his chest.

"You can't run from this, Ezra," Zeb said.

The young Jedi shook his head. "You're helping her?" he asked, incredulous.

"She threatened me!", the Lasat complained, eyes pleading. "I accidentally broke the new steering yoke in the Phantom - you know, the one Hera just installed. She thinks the piece was faulty, but Sabine knew it was me and Hera will take it out of my hide if she ever finds out - "

Ezra snorted. "You caved big time, you big furball," he retorted.

"Focus less on him and more on me," Sabine interjected, fingers drumming impatiently on the table surface. "Answer my question, Ezra."

His face went stony with silence. "No."

Sabine's eyebrows raised perceptibly with his defiance. "No?", she repeated. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Ezra crossed his arms, eyes sparkling with rebelliousness. "It means 'no'. I'm not telling you."

She stood up from her seat, trying to reign in her patience - and failing miserably. "You've been sneaking out in the middle of the night and coming back early morning. What are you up to, goober? Why aren't you telling me?"

Sabine cracked her knuckles, as an added effect. Ezra winced at the sound but, to her surprise, he stood his ground.

Both of them glared at each other, neither backing down.

Then -

"What are you all doing at this ungodly hour."

Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight and Ezra's mentor, had arrived. He was dressed in rumpled sleepwear, his hair disheveled. Although his scarred eyes availed him no vision, there was still the sense that the older Jedi saw everything before him clearly. A chagrined Zeb stood hunched over, scratching at his head.

"Sabine bullied me into doing this, Kanan," he whined.

"Yeah, she knows about you breaking the Phantom's new steering yoke," Kanan said, exasperated. "Everyone does."

Zeb froze, his ears twitching in shock. "What - does Hera know?"

The Jedi clapped his friend on the shoulder. "She does. Best go to sleep now and enjoy your last night of freedom. Hera's got a list of chores for you to do when you wake up."

The big Lasat deflated, shoulders slumping in defeat. "How many? And for how long?"

"Many, many chores. Enough to last a lifetime - even for a Lasat," Kanan replied.

Zeb whimpered, cast a sad look around at his friends, and then shuffled off to his bunk. Kanan sighed. "Poor guy."

Ezra immediately slid behind Kanan, putting his mentor between him and Sabine. "Need your help, Master."

Kanan snorted. "Quick with the honorifics, eh? Scared of Sabine?"

"Always," said Ezra.

"Very wise of you," Kanan said. He frowned at his padawan. "You were with Nadia tonight?"

A face flashed through Sabine's memory at the name; a human female rebel pilot, slightly older than her. Sun browned skin, cropped auburn hair, jade green eyes, with a wicked grin. She had showed up a month ago and had become the darling of Atollon's rebel cell since her appearance backed by glowing performance reviews from Commander Sato. Rumor had it that she had been recruited by Mon Mothma herself.

Sabine had only caught a handful of glimpses at her - each time with a nagging sense of familiarity. She could not pin her name or face down, but Sabine swore that they had crossed paths before . . .

She shook her head. None of that mattered. She had a new line of inquiry to pursue regarding Ezra's late night jaunts.

"Nadia?" Sabine asked sharply. "Nadia Arcossa? That new rebel pilot?"

Ezra cast a nervous glance at her but answered Kanan's question with a simple nod. The older Jedi sighed.

"Right," he said tiredly. "You can go to your room. I'll cover for you."

"Cover what?" asked Sabine, annoyed. "What are you all hiding from me?"

Her friend gave her a guilty look, opening his mouth to say something - and then, deciding last second, kept it shut.

"I'm sorry, Sabine," he said in a sincere tone. "It'll make sense in a couple days, I promise." He ducked out into the doorway, before Sabine could say anything back.

Which just left her and Kanan alone in the communal area.

"I suspect you have questions," he said, grinning.

She ground her teeth in frustration but kept a calm tone. "A few, yeah."

He held out a hand in a placating gesture. "I'll answer the most pressing one first, before you blow a gasket."

"Blow a - I'm not angry. Who's angry, not me," Sabine sputtered. "Why would I be angry about the goober's late-night wanderings with Arcossa?"

Kanan raised an eyebrow. "Can I finish?"

With a heroic effort, Sabine kept her mouth shut and nodded in a jerky fashion.

"It's nothing . . . nefarious," Kanan said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down in comical fashion at that last word. "He's learning something from Nadia. That's all."

She crossed her arms. "Aren't you the Jedi Master? What can he learn from her, that you can't teach him?"

Kanan's grin widened. "There are some things even I don't know, Sabine. He's in good hands, don't worry. Nadia is plenty knowledgeable about what she's teaching."

At the mention of hands, images burst free to the forefront of Sabine's thoughts, flooding her mind.

Hands, roaming over sun-kissed skin.

Ezra leaning close to beautiful Nadia's face, their lips inching closer and closer -

She shook herself roughly, desperately trying to clear her head of such thoughts.

No.

No, that was not happening. Not on her watch.

"I'll take your word for it," she said, trying to sound casual.

It didn't work. Kanan snorted and said, "I don't need to be a Jedi to know you're lying, Sabine."

"Yeah?" she challenged, sticking her hands firmly on hips. "What are you going to do about it?"

He laughed. "Watch from a safe distance."

_ _ _ _ _

The next few days were filled with a busy assortment of activities and work as Atollon base geared up to celebrate Life Day. The hangar was being converted into a dance hall, complete with a stage set up for music. Some of the rebels there were musicians and were planning a medley of festive songs to accompany the dancing.

Others were cooking up a storm in the makeshift kitchens, bringing various cuisines from all over the galaxy to feed everyone. It promised to be a relaxing, fun event which was sorely needed to boost morale during these dark times. Commander Sato himself was planning to sing, having studied opera while growing up.

It was a much-needed reminder of what they were all fighting for. Some days the war was all they had. But there had to be other things. And Life Day was a celebration of that.

Sabine did her best to keep an eye on the wandering Ezra, catching glimpses of him all over the base engrossed in different activities while helping out. She had an ugly suspicion that he was using the preparations as an excuse to hide from her since their confrontation. She was busy herself, having volunteered for a dozen different projects to help set up the upcoming event's festivities. The hours flew by, faster than light it seemed.

She did, however, see Nadia several more times. Looking at her more closely, Sabine was once again filled with a nagging sense that they had met before. It wasn't a particularly good feeling either; it resembled a stone, sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach. And it grew heavier every time she saw Nadia interact with Ezra. Always they talked in hushed whispers, a few gentle laughs, and always it seemed Nadia found an excuse to touch Ezra in an affectionate manner.

An amused Kanan continued to watch from the sidelines, as he promised, which only further annoyed her. Whenever she managed to snag time to question him again, the Jedi continued to remain frustratingly silent on the whole affair. Hera also was of a similar disposition and a woeful Zeb was too busy with the endless list of chores Hera had set up for him as punishment to talk.

At the end of the last day before the celebration, Sabine decided she could take it no longer. It was time for action.

_ _ _ _ _

The normally arid temperature of Atollon had dropped precariously as the planet approached what resembled winter. Sabine had fared far worse - particularly on her on home world, Krownest - but tonight she was forced to dress light, without her customary beskar armor. Night was falling fast across the desert planet, and the thin cloak she wore in place of her armor was little protection against the cold.

Through some careful observation and more tracking, she had finally located the small bunker where Nadia and Ezra were doing their secret activities together on the perimeter's edge of Atollon base. Far away from wandering eyes, it was still used as a storage for excess supplies and munitions, but not a high enough priority to be watched constantly.

From an outcropping of rocks nearby, she waited for the pair to arrive. They did so, ten minutes later; Ezra dressed in his usual outfit, Nadia still wearing his flight uniform. Sabine watched Ezra scan around them, his face relaxing when he saw nothing suspicious. He muttered something to Nadia, who keyed an access code into the bunker's door. They entered with a hurry, eager to get out from the cold.

Sabine had caught the access code from his hiding spot, but it would be stupid to waltz through the front door. She needed to see what they were doing that required such secrecy. Unfortunately, the bunker was solidly built - only one way in or out. Which meant that she had to get creative.

It still needed a ventilation system to preserve the supplies inside. That was her ticket in - or so she hoped. This was uncharted waters for her, since Ezra was usually the one to scurry around a Star Destroyer or Imperial Base air vents.

Sneaking around to the back, she found her opening and quietly uncovered the access port leading inside.

"Dank ferrik," she whispered, the moment a proper look was available of her entryway.

It was narrow. Extremely narrow. She looked down at her clothes, grimacing.

Need to shed more layers to fit, she thought.

It occurred to her, not for the first time, that crawling into an old air duct to spy on her best friend and his beautiful female acquaintance was beyond insanity. But, then again, nothing felt sane these days. Sabine had felt off-balance since those creepy caves on Dathomir. It wasn't being possessed by the spirits of witches long dead that unsettled her - it was what she had found in those dark caves that filled her with dread about the future.

The Darksaber. An ancient weapon with a loaded history that gave its wielder the right to rule Mandalore.

And it was now in her possession. Oh, the things she could do with it . . .

She shook her head free of such despairing thoughts. It was something Sabine desperately did not want to think about right now.

With a deep breath, she stripped down, leaving only her thin undergarments to at least feel some miniscule sense of modesty. Folding her clothes neatly into a pile next to the vent opening, she wriggled her way inside, managing a clumsy sort of half-crawl to move forward.

She made her way through the ventilation system's guts for a good fifteen minutes by her estimation. The interior of the duct system hadn't been cleaned in a long while; cobwebs, dust, and other detritus cluttered inside, scraping at her exposed skin. Sabine winced at raw scrapes, her grip becoming slippery with sweat as she struggled through the air duct.

Finally, she began to hear voices reverberating through the vent: Ezra, followed by Nadia's. She saw a light up ahead - another opening. Hopefully, she could get a view of what was happening below inside the bunker.

With a final huff of effort, she reached the opening -

The metal beneath her suddenly shifted with an alarming groan. Sabine froze, heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

Oh, kriff, she thought. The realization hit that the vent was probably made from cheap durasteel that was not built for a human to crawl through.

Ezra's voice came then, sounding wary: "What was that?"

"Sounds like it came from above," said Nadia. "From the vents . . . maybe a rat?"

"Sounds too big to be a rat," replied Ezra nervously. "Maybe we should - "

With a horrible screech, the metal beneath Sabine gave way and she fell through the air -

Only to be caught in an invisible grip, a mere few inches from the solid concrete floor. All around her, small pieces of concrete and steel pelted the floor, but Sabine remained unharmed.

She looked up to find Ezra, his expression started but his hand outstretched. Her best friend's eyes flashed with worry, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he concentrated holding her steady with the Force.

Next to him was Nadia. Her expression was settling into one of gentle bemusement.

Sabine suddenly remembered how she looked to the both of them: dirty, bruised, scratched, and mostly naked.

"You can set me down now, Ezra," she said quietly.

He did so. The worry in his eyes never faded entirely but new emotions began to flicker forth: annoyance and frustration. Ezra reached behind him and grabbed a towel off a nearby crate. With a flick of his hand, he tossed it to her. Sabine caught it gratefully and began to wrap it around herself.

The young Jedi folded his arms. "Explain," he said.

Sabine shrugged. There was nothing she could say to salvage this situation.

"You were spying on us," Nadia observed wryly.

Ezra groaned and buried his face into his hands. "Sabine . . . "

Well, she thought. I came this far.

"So," she started casually. "What have you guys been up to?"

_ _ _ _ _

The Life Day celebration festivities were in full swing when Sabine arrived. She was not in her usual get-up, instead choosing to wear a shimmer-silk dress colored with a blend of lavender and sunburst orange hues that fell just past her knees and a pair of sandals with straps that wrapped up her thighs. Where Hera had procured such a dress, Sabine had no idea but was moved by the Twi'lek's generosity.

She scanned the crowd inside the main hangar bay, searching for Ezra. Hera and Kanan were already on the dance floor, holding each other close and swaying to the music. Zeb, given a one-night reprieve from his punishment, was partying it up with a group of rebels in a corner, taking a swig of some green colored liquor from a glass jug. Chopper trundled around, taking in the sights, the droid's tiny mechanical widgets balancing a tray of appetizers. Somehow, Hera had bullied him into playing butler for the evening.

"You clean up well," came a voice from behind her. She turned to find Nadia, surprisingly still in her flight uniform.

"You're not going to dance?" Sabine asked, frowning.

Nadia smiled at her. It looked a little sad, she noted. "I've got orders to ship out in the morning," she replied. "I'm just here to say good-bye to everyone."

Sabine nodded. The last night's events were still vivid in her memory, and she struggled not to feel embarrassed in Nadia's presence. She - and a flustered Ezra - had explained that he had been taking dancing lessons from her. It wasn't just an old dance, either - this style was specifically used for Mandalorian royalty, back in the old days. Ezra had been hoping to surprise her during the Life Day celebration.

It was then it had clicked for Sabine why Nadia looked so familiar.

The rebel pilot was Mandalorian. Clan Arcossa. She and Sabine had been classmates during the early days of Mandalorian training. Not quite friends - more like friendly rivals.

Nadia smirked at her. "Humbled to know that the infamous Sabine Wren finally recognizes me."

"Hey," countered Sabine. "It's been a while. Last time I saw you, you were all curls and missing teeth."

"Yeah," shot back Nadia. "You were the reason for those missing teeth, if I recall."

Sabine laughed. "How's your family?" she asked.

Nadia's smile vanished. "Dead," she said.

Sabine felt her stomach drop at the revelation. She reached out and gripped Nadia's arm with an affectionate squeeze. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "How?"

The smile came back, full of bitterness. "Same story as everyone else here, I think," she said. "The Empire. My parents were trying to stay neutral throughout this whole war. I was trying to convince them otherwise. It didn't matter, in the end. The Empire made the decision for them."

"Hail, Countess Arcossa," said Sabine.

Nadia snorted. "Thanks, I guess. Never wanted it like this. And speaking of Countess . . . "

She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Word is that your mother is looking for you."

It was Sabine's turn to smile bitterly. "She can keep looking," she answered. "I have no interest in going back."

Although I might need to, she thought. Very soon, at that. Don't know how much longer I can put off that reunion.

Nadia nodded. "I get that. I haven't heard good things about Clan Wren lately."

"Yeah," said Sabine bitterly. "I know."

Nadia raised a glass in mock cheer. "To our families."

Sabine snorted. "May they continue to be complicated."

The rebel pilot tipped back her glass and drank. "Your boyfriend has arrived, by the way," she noted.

Sabine whipped her head around quick enough to cause a crick in her neck. But, sure enough, there he was: dressed formally in a layered robe tunic, with a dress vest, black seamed pants and polished black boots that rode up to his calves.

He looked handsome. Ezra saw her and gave a cheerful wave. Despite her antics from last night, he didn't seem to be harboring any grudges. Although, Sabine suspected, he would want to talk with her about it later. She gave him a gesture that meant to wait a couple minutes while she finished talking with Nadia.

Ezra gave her a swift acknowledgment and made a beeline towards Chopper with the appetizers. The droid stuck out his electric probe and zapped him as a greeting.

It took a full ten seconds for Sabine to register what Nadia had said fully. "Hey," she said, turning to look back at the rebel pilot and finding a smug expression on her face. "He is not my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh," replied Nadia. "Sure."

"He's not," Sabine insisted. "We're just . . . we're partners. That's it."

"Is that so?" Nadia asked. "Well then, you won't mind if I - "

She stuck out an arm, shoving (politely, in her point of view) Nadia back from taking a step towards her friend. "No, I do mind, actually."

The fellow Mandalorian smirked. "Case closed, I think. If you don't act on it soon, Wren, then someone else will. He's an amazing partner. Not just in dance, although he is kind of hopeless. Two left feet, but he's sincere about it."

Sabine's eye began to twitch. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Great smile, easy on the eyes, and he's good with his hands. Knows where to place them."

She gritted her teeth but stayed quiet.

Nadia paused. "Shame about that haircut, though."

Sabine's cheeks flushed. "That was me," she confessed.

The other girl stared at her. "You did that to him? Maybe I was wrong about you two."

"I was mad at him," Sabine replied, exasperated from just thinking about the memory. "We went out to Ilum - "

"Ilum? That place is crawling with Imperials last I heard."

"Yeah, but he needed a kyber crystal from there to complete building his second lightsaber. Things went sideways and he got . . . "

Words failed her then, trying to describe the dark, difficult journey Ezra had undergone on that planet. It had left him changed - and their relationship was forever altered, as well.

She sighed. "Story for another day," she said. "Not relevant right now."

"I'll take your word for it," Nadia said. "You know, I've never seen you struggle so much with another person. The Wren I remember always went after what she wanted."

"I don't struggle with Ezra," Sabine said, surprised.

The other Mandalorian gave her an incredulous look. "You. In the vent. Covered in dirt and bruises. Almost naked."

Sabine flushed. "That was - look, we all have our moments of temporary insanity."

"Funny thing is," Nadia said, brushing off her weak excuse, "Ezra told me that's the craziest thing he's seen you do. And if the stories I've heard about the Ghost crew are half-true, then that's saying something."

Sabine was silent, her face pensive. Nadia eyed her.

"Wren - look, you care about him. Deeply. What's the big deal?"

Finally, Sabine said in a low tone, "I found the Darksaber."

Nadia went still, her eyes widening in shock. "You - what? For real?"

She nodded. The other Mandalorian whistled.

"Yeah, that does complicate things."

"It does," Sabine agreed miserably.

For a long few seconds, neither of them spoke. Both were thinking of the ancient weapon's history - and potential future, especially in Sabine's hands.

Then, Nadia shook her head. "I don't have any words to comfort you, Wren. That's a heavy burden. But . . . this thing you have with Ezra? It's going to change things. You need to tell him how you feel. Soon."

"I can't," Sabine whispered.

"Why not? I know he'll back you up. No matter what. Tell him, Wren."

She shook her head. "I can't tell him . . . "

"Why?"

"Because, one day, I won't be able to anymore. The galaxy will break whatever promise he makes."

Nadia looked at her with pity. "I understand. In these times, it seems like we have no good choices left. But we still have to choose."

"How?" Sabine asked.

Nadia looked at her. "Whatever you can live with."

_ _ _ _ _

After saying their final farewells, Sabine made her way to the dance floor where Ezra was waiting. He was rubbing his side, muttering darkly; a small scorch mark marred his fancy dress tunic, where Chopper had zapped him earlier.

"Ready?"

He did a double take at her outfit, before standing ramrod straight. "Yes," he said, looking flustered. It was adorable.

Moving to the center of the crowd, they began to dance, keeping to the rhythm of the music being played. Ezra's Mandalorian dance technique was, as Nadi said, clumsy.

But he was trying, which all that mattered to her.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled to her, concentrating on not tripping. "I shouldn't have kept it a secret."

Sabine laughed. "You're apologizing? I'm the one who's been going stir crazy because of it."

"Well," Ezra said, "since you agree . . . "

She sighed. "You want me talk about it, huh."

"Only if you want to," he added hastily. "But I have been concerned. You've been . . . distant since Dathomir. Holed up in your room."

Sabine grimaced. "I have, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Ezra said. "Again, if you don't want to talk about it . . . "

She thought hard about what Nadia had said to her earlier.

Things were going to change very soon.

"I . . . not right now. It's something personal to me, Ezra. But I'll talk to you about it soon, I promise. Just for tonight, I want to dance with you. If that's alright."

She braced herself, expecting a recrimination. But Ezra simply said, "Okay."

Mentally, Sabine breathed a sigh of relief.

"Can I ask why you don't want to talk about it?"

She pursed her lips. "Because it will change things."

"Not us," Ezra shot back instantly. "I'm here for you. Always."

Her heart lurched at the certainty in her friend's voice. Oh, Ezra . . .

"I'll hold you to that promise, goober," she replied quietly, leaning into his embrace.

"Okay. And if you ever need reminding - ack!"

They both fell over, Ezra tripping over a familiar object - Chopper. The droid wheeled himself away, chortling over his little prank.

"That little . . . are you okay, Sabine?"

She doubled over, breathless from laughter. "I'm fine. Nadia was right; you really do have two left feet, huh."

"Yeah," he said, cheeks flushed. Ezra stuck out his hand and hauled her up to standing position.

Sighing, he admitted, "I'm no good at this. Sorry. Nadia tried her best."

Sabine looked at him, smiling a little.

The Wren I remember always went after what she wanted.

Things were going to change very soon, she knew deep down in her heart. That's why she couldn't tell him everything. Not yet.

But maybe, just for tonight, she could allow herself to be a little brave. Just for tonight, and tonight alone.

She leaned forward and gave Ezra a soft kiss on his cheek. As she pulled away, she felt a tingle of satisfaction at seeing the look of slack-jawed astonishment on his face.

Squeezing his hand affectionately, she led him back into the dance. "Don't worry, Ezra," she said. "I'll take the lead in this dance tonight."

~ epilogue ~

The morning after, Sabine wandered into the Ghost communal area for breakfast. Hera sat there, reading through her datapad.

"Good morning," said the Twi'lek.

"Morning," mumbled Sabine. The Mandalorian began to mix ingredients into a bowl for some thick porridge. Her head was pounding from all the festivities of last night.

"So," Hera said in a sly tone. "Heard you were out late with Ezra last night."

Sabine spilled her porridge. "Hmmmm? Is that so?"

"Yup."

Cleaning up her mess quickly, she grabbed what was left of her porridge and sat down at the round table, keeping a calm expression. "And is that all you heard?"

"Maybe. Saw Ezra this morning too, you know. He had a bounce in his step."

"Did he now?" It was very hard not to express smug satisfaction at hearing those words. So very hard.

"Yup."

Sabine shrugged. "Well, you know Ezra. He probably sprained his ankle or something."

Hera snorted. "Sounds like him." She got up from the table, taking her datapad with her - but not before bending down to whisper in Sabine's ear.

"Next time," she said, "might want to cover up that mark on your neck. Strains your credulity a little, otherwise."

Sabine slapped the side of her neck in horror.

Hera laughed.

[wonlvures]

— A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE — PARK JONGSEONG

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, romance

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and Jay celebrate christmas together!

𝐀.𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry i haven’t been posting ! i’ve been very lazy 😞

It was Christmas Eve in Seoul, and the city was alive with holiday cheer. The streets shimmered with dazzling lights, and snowflakes gently fell from the sky, blanketing the sidewalks in soft white. The scent of roasted chestnuts and fresh pine mixed in the air, and everything seemed to glow under the light of the festive decorations. People bustled around, shopping for last-minute gifts and sipping hot drinks from street vendors.

Inside a cozy little cafe on a quiet corner of the city, Y/N sat by the window, a warm latte cradled between her hands. The holiday season always filled her with a sense of wonder, and tonight, something felt even more special. Perhaps it was the quiet beauty of the snow, or perhaps it was the anticipation of seeing someone very important to her—someone who had become much more than just a friend over the past few months.

Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked down to see a message from Jay, the charming and kind-hearted lead vocalist of ENHYPEN.

"I’m outside! Can you come out?"

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she quickly stood up, her eyes lighting up. She’d been looking forward to this all week. Tonight was a chance to spend some quiet time with him—just the two of them, away from the chaos of the world. Grabbing her coat, she slipped into the cool winter air and stepped out of the cafe.

There, standing under a streetlamp dusted with snow, was Jay. He was dressed warmly in a thick, black jacket and a soft, checkered scarf, his hands tucked into his pockets. His breath formed small clouds in the chilly air, and as soon as he spotted her, his face broke into that signature grin that always made her heart race.

"Hey, you made it!" he said, taking a step toward her. "Sorry if I kept you waiting."

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. "No, I just got here. It’s so beautiful tonight, don’t you think?"

Jay looked around at the snow-covered streets, the festive lights strung across the buildings. He chuckled. "Yeah, it’s like a Christmas movie. I’m glad we’re spending it together."

There was a softness in his voice that made Y/N's heart flutter, but she quickly shook it off, attributing it to the magic of the season. "I’m really glad, too. So, what’s the plan?"

Jay grinned mischievously. "I was thinking we could walk around, look at the decorations, and maybe grab some hot cocoa or something. Just enjoy the night."

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds perfect."

The two of them wandered through the streets, walking side by side as the city’s Christmas lights sparkled around them. Every now and then, Jay would playfully flick snow at Y/N, causing her to laugh and retaliate with a small snowball of her own. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble.

After a while, they found themselves in a nearby park, where the trees were decked out in thousands of twinkling lights. The peaceful quiet of the place, with the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet, made it feel like they had stepped into a winter wonderland. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the branches in the wind and the occasional giggle between them.

They stopped in front of a large Christmas tree in the center of the park, its lights glowing brightly. Jay took a deep breath, looking at the tree in silence before turning to face Y/N. His expression had softened, and his usual playful energy seemed to have mellowed.

"You know," Jay began, his voice quieter now, "I’ve been thinking about this moment for a while."

Y/N tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?"

He took another deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, then looked into her eyes with a seriousness that surprised her. "I just… I’ve been so busy with everything lately, with ENHYPEN and all the craziness that comes with it. But every time I see you, I feel like I can finally breathe. You make everything feel so much better. And I realized tonight that it’s not just about having fun or spending time together. It’s something more."

Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but the air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings. She looked down at their feet for a moment, trying to steady herself.

Jay reached out, gently lifting her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Y/N, I think... I think I’m falling for you."

The words hung in the air, and Y/N’s heart seemed to stop for a moment. Was she hearing this right? Her mind raced as she looked up at him, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

Jay looked at her with those warm, dark eyes, waiting for her response. "I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now, but I didn’t know how… or if you felt the same way."

Y/N felt a wave of emotions wash over her—surprise, joy, and a little nervousness. She’d always known there was something special between them, but to hear Jay say it out loud made everything feel real.

"I… I think I feel the same," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "I’ve always cared about you, Jay. More than I realized."

A soft smile spread across his face, and he gently pulled her into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around her as if he never wanted to let go. Y/N melted into the embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. The world seemed to fade into the background, and for that moment, it was just the two of them, surrounded by the magic of Christmas.

When they pulled away, Jay’s face was flushed, but his smile was brighter than ever. "So, we’re each other’s Christmas miracle then?"

Y/N laughed softly, her heart full. "I think so."

Jay’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face. "I’m really glad we’re here, Y/N. This is… this is everything I’ve wanted."

Before she could respond, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead in a tender kiss. The moment felt like a dream—a perfect, serene memory that she would cherish forever.

As they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the snow continued to fall around them, adding to the magic of the night. The twinkling lights on the Christmas tree reflected in Jay’s eyes, and Y/N felt as though she had stepped into her own little holiday fairy tale. The love she’d always hoped for had found her, and it was here, under the snowy sky, with the person who made her heart feel like home.

As they walked back through the park, hand in hand, the city lights guiding their way, Y/N knew that this Christmas would be the start of something beautiful. Something lasting. And no matter what happened in the future, she would always remember this night—the night she and Jay found each other, wrapped in the warmth of the season and the magic of a Christmas miracle.