#listen to stacked like pancakes

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[flwrkid14]

Had the silliest idea while making breakfast.. what if Damian’s Favorite Brother is Tim, but for the Dumbest Reason...pancakes

My idea is that Tim is Damian’s favorite brother, but not for the reasons one might expect. It’s not because of Tim’s skill, his smarts, or his ability to stay three steps ahead in every fight. Nope. Damian’s real reason for favoring Tim over Dick, Jason, or even Bruce is much simpler.

It’s because Tim makes the best pancakes. Like, legendary pancakes.

Not even kidding.

One morning, Tim casually whips up a batch of pancakes in the kitchen—y’know, because Alfred’s off running errands and the rest of the family doesn’t know the first thing about breakfast beyond opening a box of cereal, and Tim's been feeding himself since he was six. So Tim steps up to the stove, and bam—fluffy, golden stacks of heaven.

Damian, who never really cared for breakfast, takes one bite of Tim’s pancakes and is sold. From that moment on, he’s obsessed.

“Drake, you will make me those pancakes again tomorrow."

And Tim just blinks, completely confused, but shrugs it off like, “Uh, sure?”

The next morning, Damian’s right there in the kitchen, bright and early, waiting for his daily dose of pancake perfection. By the third day, he’s even dragging a chair next to Tim, watching like a hawk as Tim cooks, making sure he’s using the right ingredients.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Batfamily is just like, “Really? This is the thing that bonds them?”

Tim, being Tim, just rolls with it. He doesn’t ask questions. If Damian wants pancakes, Damian gets pancakes. He’s just trying to survive his new role as “Pancake Master.”

But Damian? Oh, he’s serious about this.

Damian tells anyone who will listen that Tim is the only one who knows how to make breakfast properly. He’ll give the other brothers side-eye anytime they dare to suggest they could cook for him. Even Alfred raises an eyebrow, but Damian’s already set: Tim’s pancakes or nothing.

What’s even funnier is that when Damian gets pissed off at anyone, he refuses to eat their cooking. But Tim? Untouchable. The one person who can screw up as many times as he wants and still be in Damian’s good graces—because those pancakes? Irreplaceable.

So, while the Batfamily argues over strategy, patrols, or who gets to drive the Batmobile, Damian's priorities are clear:

"You’re all amateurs. Drake’s the only one who makes pancakes worthy of the Wayne name.”

And now, Tim’s been promoted to Damian’s favorite brother for the silliest reason imaginable. But hey, if the key to Damian’s heart is pancakes, Tim’s got that title locked down.

[ventismacchiato]

1O stuck with you — sand in my ass !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

As with most things involving Scaramouche, your day starts off on a disastrous note. The cramped quarters of the dorm building force all ten of you into a chaotic dance as you rush to get ready, dodging elbows and sidestepping misplaced shoes. Unfortunately, you seem to be magnetically drawn to Scaramouche, bumping into him no less than five times before breakfast. The microphones crackle with your manager’s impatient voices, urging everyone to hurry.

“You took that long just to come out looking like that?” Scaramouche’s voice greets you as you finally make it into the kitchen with the rest of the group. He doesn’t exactly wrinkle his nose in disgust, but it’s a very near thing.

You ignore him, your eyes instead raking over the counter filled with neatly stacked plates of pancakes. The scent of fresh fruit wafts up, and you instinctively reach over to grab a fistful of berries.

“Wow, who managed to make all this?” Lumine asks, marveling at the spread before piling an impressive stack onto her plate.

Kazuha, flipping a pancake with a practiced ease, jerks his thumb toward Scaramouche, who’s manning the stove like he's scared Kazuha is about to set it ablaze.

Your hand freezes mid-reach. Without a word, you drop the plate you picked up back onto the counter, your appetite vanishing.

“You are so petty, just eat it, Y/N,” Fischl murmurs, standing behind Scaramouche with an amused look. “Can you add chocolate to mine?”

“What are you, five?” Scaramouche grumbles, but he obliges, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over her pancake while simultaneously swatting Venti’s wandering hand away from the stove.

“You’re acting like he’s trying to poison you,” Yoimiya sighs, exasperated, as she takes her own plate and starts to serve herself.

“He probably is,” you mutter, poking at your untouched pancakes with a fork, still skeptical.

Scaramouche, not missing a beat, shoots you a glare. “I will cook bleach into your next meal.”

A loud, resounding "NO" echoes from the intercoms, reminding everyone that Jean, ever vigilant, is monitoring your every move.

Scaramouche, annoyed, looks into the ceiling where he thinks the camera is. “I WILL!” he shouts, voice dripping with defiance.

“Scara, baby, turn around. The camera’s behind you,” Childe says with a laugh.

Scaramouche swivels around, eyes locking onto the correct camera this time. “I WILL!”

“Wow, you sure showed them,” Aether chuckles, drizzling syrup over his and Lumine’s pancakes, clearly enjoying the idiocy.

You, on the other hand, can only sigh, clasping your hands together in mock prayer. “Please, get me out of here,” you whisper, hoping that someone, anyone, is listening.

“No,” Lisa laughs into your ear piece.

Anyone but Lisa.

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows on the sandy track laid out for the first challenge of this god forsaken fake dating show. The tension between you and Scaramouche was palpable as cameras buzzed around, capturing every strained glance you both sent one another.

“Could you both at least pretend to smile?” Lumine sighs, coming to stand in between you both.

“No,” you both say in unison.

"Alright, contestants!" Yae's voice rang out cheerfully over the loudspeaker as she sat a couple feet away from you all, "Our first challenge is a two-legged race! The winning pair gets to have a private date with a gourmet meal!”

“Now, obviously we want Scaramouche and Yn to win,” Yae admitted with a sigh, “But for this challenge we will actually play it to keep it a little realistic.” Yae claps her hands as she signals to the ropes on the ground.

“All of you can pair up, except for our lovebirds. Tie your ankles together and stand before that line. The course isn’t too long.” 

You glanced at Scaramouche, who was examining the ropes with a bored expression. "Just try not to trip us," you muttered, as Scara fastened the rope around your leg and his.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to win this anyway."

As the race began, it was immediately clear that Scaramouche was dragging his feet, literally and figuratively. He barely lifted his leg, forcing you to stumble and struggle to keep pace. The other pairs surged ahead while you and Scaramouche lurched forward in awkward, jerky movements.

"Can you at least pretend to try?" you hissed, frustration mounting with every step.

Scaramouche smirked. "Why should I? Do you really want to go on a date with me?"

“No, but I don’t want us to look like unathletic idiots on tv,” you huff.

“Don’t worry, you already look unathletic,” Scara adds unhelpfully.

Yae sighs from where she’s sitting as she watches you two barely make it past the starting line. 

"Scara, I know you're good at this!" Yae called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the other contestants' laughter. Lumine and Yoimiya had already crossed the finish line, untying themselves with triumphant grins. 

"Scaramouche, I swear if you don't—" you began, but he cut you off with a weary sigh.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Scaramouche, still grumbling under his breath, wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. With a sudden burst of athleticism, he finally matched your pace, and together, you both stumbled forward with more rhythm than before. You were no match for the other pairs who had long since finished, but at least you weren’t tripping over each other anymore. It was almost too natural, too comfortable, and for a split second, you forgot about the cameras and the show. But then reality crashed back in when he pinched your waist when you started slowing down.

"Finally, almost done," you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on your waist and focusing on not tripping over the sand.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't mess this up," Scaramouche replied, but there was no real bite in his words that time. 

Finally, you both crossed the finish line, far behind everyone else. Yae clapped her hands together, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And our final pair has arrived! Congratulations, you two. You were... spectacularly last."

Scaramouche immediately let go of you, stepping back as if the contact had burned him as he slipped out of the rope binding you two. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics, but before you could respond, Yae continued.

“Of course, for the sake of the show, we’ll just pretend you two got first place. After all, what kind of dating show would this be if the main couple lost that badly? Miya and Lumine, you both can have a gourmet meal too but just off camera.”

“So rigged,” Aether sighs.

“In the other games we’ll play fairly, it’s just for the first episode,” Yae giggles.

The other members were already lounging on the sand, enjoying their downtime as you’d both taken forever to get going. Venti and Fischl had even started a sandcastle, which was somehow more elaborate than anything you’d ever seen. 

Venti waved at you with a playful grin. “You two sure took your time! Must’ve been having too much fun, huh?”

You and Scaramouche simultaneously scoffed at that, and you could hear the others chuckling at your synchronized reaction.

“You guys are stupid,” you huff, kicking sand towards your nearest victim. Poor Childe.

“I agree,” Scara says, but his voice was quieter, almost contemplative. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Then just fuck on camera so we can all go home!”

“Venti, move over. I’m going to kick down your castle.”

“NO WAIT!”

You dig your toes into the sand, letting the cool grains slip between them as you wait outside the kitchens for Scaramouche. The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the beach, and Yae's words about a "romantic walk" still make you want to gag. She had told you the meals would be set up away from everyone else so you both could enjoy a romantic walk towards your date. The last thing you want is to spend more time with Scara pretending to be enamored with each other, especially after the disaster that was the race.

“Aww, look how cute Y/N is, waiting for their date,” Yoimiya teases, a grin spreading across her face as she takes another bite of the crab she and Lumine had won.

“If he doesn’t show up in ten seconds, I’m leaving without him,” you grumble, crossing your arms in frustration.

“No, you won’t!” Lisa’s voice blares from the intercoms, making you jump a little. “Remember, you’re supposed to be in love. Try to act like it!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, just as Scaramouche finally appears, looking equally as unimpressed. “You ready?” he asks, not bothering to hide the lack of enthusiasm in his voice as he walks ahead without you.

“Not really, but let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing off the wall and starting down the path that Yae had indicated earlier as you catch up with him.

The walk is awkward, to say the least. Neither of you says a word, and the only sounds are the gentle waves crashing on the shore and the distant laughter of the other contestants. The romantic atmosphere Yae had tried to create is completely lost on you both.

Finally, you reach the small table set up near the water’s edge, lit by a couple of lanterns. The meal is already laid out—lobster, of all things, with sides that look way too fancy for a beach dinner. You sit down across from each other, the silence continuing to stretch as you both start to pick at the food, trying to figure out how to eat without looking ridiculous.

Then, out of nowhere, your ear pieces crackle to life. Lisa’s voice bursts through, louder than before. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO SOMETHING INTERESTING!”

Scaramouche groans, his fork clattering onto his plate as he rubs his temples. “Do they ever shut up?” he mumbles.

You stifle a laugh at his pain, but it quickly turns into a grumble. “Apparently not.” You take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this whole situation more painful. “So, uh… what are your hobbies?”

Scaramouche stares at you, disbelief written all over his face. “Seriously?”

“What? I’ve never been on a date as an idol before,” you reply, trying not to sound too defensive but miserably failing. 

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, that’s apparent.”

You scowl at him, refusing to let him get under your skin. “You can’t talk. Your last relationship was a total disaster.”

His smirk fades, replaced by his usual look of annoyance. “Ew, let’s not discuss my ex.”

Before you can respond, Lisa’s voice crackles through again, this time more exasperated. “THIS IS KILLING THE MOOD. THE STUDIO IS DRY. BE HOT.”

“What does that even mean?” you mumble, helping yourself to the calamari rings Scara wasn’t touching.

Scaramouche sighs, clearly just as fed up as you are. He reaches across the table, and you blink in surprise, half expecting a slap as he leans forward. 

“Hold still,” he mutters, his fingers brushing against your chin. You feel a light pressure as he wipes something from the corner of your mouth. Before you can react, he brings his thumb to his own lips, licking it off casually.

“Gross, I hate squid,” he complains, pouring himself a drink as if nothing happened.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can practically hear Lisa’s triumphant yell through the earpiece. “YES! LIKE THAT! Finally, some chemistry!”

You stare at Scaramouche, who just shrugs as he forgets about the cup entirely and starts drinking straight from the bottle. He meets your eyes over the rim, as if daring you to say something. You value your life so you keep your mouth shut.

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. But before you can retort, you’re faced with the lobster on your plate. The shell is hard, the claws menacing, and you realize with growing embarrassment that you have no idea how to eat it without making a complete fool of yourself. You were used to instant ramen since none of your members cared to cook back at the dorms. The cameras are still rolling, and since you hadn’t eaten all day out of sheer pettiness, this damn lobster was your last option.

Scaramouche seems to notice your hesitation if the growing smirk on his face is any indication. “You’ve never eaten lobster before, have you?” he asks, his tone surprisingly neutral. That neutrality puts you on edge.

“No,” you admit reluctantly, hating that he now has more ammunition to tease you with. You’re about to push your plate away and accept your fate, considering just chugging the dipping sauces out of spite, when Scaramouche sighs, setting down the bottle.

“You’re hopeless,” he mutters, reaching across the table to pull your plate in front of him. With practiced ease, he cracks open the lobster’s shell, separating the meat and placing it back on your plate.

“There,” he says, sliding the plate back over to you. “Now just eat it. And try not to make a mess, dumbass.”

You’re stunned into silence, watching as he casually goes back to his own meal as if he didn’t just do something unexpectedly considerate. The cameras must be catching every second of this, and you can already imagine the headlines. He was taking this dating show more seriously than you’d thought he would. If the cameras were off he would’ve usually just let you starve.

Lisa’s voice crackles through your earpiece, full of praise. “Wow, that wasn’t emotionally constipated at all!”

You finally manage to pick up your fork, poking at the perfectly prepared lobster on your plate. You’re not sure if you’re more irritated that Scaramouche had to help you or that you’re actually grateful he did. Either way, you grudgingly take a bite, and it’s annoyingly delicious.

“What is it now?” Scara asks, looking from how you keep glancing at him, “Did you forget how to chew, too?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin. “Just… thanks.”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to make a snarky remark, but then just nods as if he decides you aren’t worth the extra words. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of needing my help.”

You roll your eyes at his words, but your chest feels uneasy. 

You shake it off as being sick from skipping breakfast. 

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

SCARAMOUCHE: Why? Everybody knows who I am.

JEAN, EXASPERATED: Just do it, please.

SCARAMOUCHE: [SIGH] Fine. It's Scaramouche, or Kunikuzushi.

JEAN: Thank you. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: It was ass.

JEAN, LOUDLY: Cut!

[00:13:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

JEAN: I'm going to ask you again. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: God, it was fine. Is that what you want?

JEAN: Thank y-

SCARAMOUCHE, INTERRUPTING: Actually can we retake that? I sounded too nice. I want all the fans to know I hate Yn—

JEAN: [SIGH] Cut!

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

YN: YN! Everyone's favorite coke whore!

JEAN: Jesus Christ, cut!

YN, BEFORE THE CAMERA CUTS: What? God forbid I channel my inner Ayesha Erotica!

[00:25:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Please state your name for the camera.

YN: It's YN! Everyone's favorite from Windblume! [WINKS]

JEAN: How was your first day on the island?

YN: It was okay. It's really hot and I got sand in my shorts. Not on purpose, Scaramouche threw sand at me because I looked at him funny. Stupid bitch. Then—

JEAN, TIREDLY: Can someone give me a normal answer for once?

YN: —after that disaster, Venti lost my vape—wait, can I say that on TV? Probably not. Anyways, it was a Lost Mary too, which are expensive!

JEAN: Cut!

YN, STILL TALKING: And after that the rest of the day was okay. I'm trying to treat this like a vacation from being an idol, so.

JEAN: Why did I get a normal answer when the camera turned off? [GROANS]

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i edited those plushies of scarayn myself do we like ☺️ yn is a grey panda to be gn

comment on the masterlist if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

end of act one 🎬

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i’ve been feeling down and sick so i wasn’t in the mood to write but here you all go, wasn’t it worth the wait! 😊 pls don’t harass me to post fast touch some grass guys 😢

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @kazuhasbabe

[htchnr]

♰ too late to turn back now ༻ L. HOWLETT.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a ko-fi!

content warning tooth rotting fluff ⋆ like fr it's disgusting how cute these two are ⋆ unmentioned age gap ⋆ r in her 20s ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

pairing neighbor!old man Logan.

summary sweet moments the morning after your first time together. written with 'Too Late To Turn Back Now' by Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose! give it a listen for those sweet, sappy romantic vibes ;3 wordcount 0,9k.

authors note if y'all want, i can turn this into a small series, with little things that happen over time between these two 🤭 (please, PLEASE send requests for this, i'd love nothing more than more ideas and your thoughts) neighbor!Logan's got a cute cat in this series, (not mentioned yet in this fic) :3

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

soft tunes flow through your apartment as you stand at the stove, deftly flipping bacon pancakes in the pan. the windows are open, fresh air mixing with the thick smell of the pancakes.

Logan grunts as he shifts in your bed, face nuzzling against your pillows as he breathes in the comforting smell of your perfume and your scent.

he misses being wrapped in your scent when he gets up and out of bed, making his way to the doorway leading to the kitchen. he leans against the frame, watching you sway your hips as you quietly sing along to the music coming from your record player. he smiles as he watches your figure move, his shirt from last night covering you.

— SINCE I MET THIS LITTLE WOMAN, I BELIEVE IT'S HAPPENED TO ME.

his heart throbs at the lyrics, he knows it's one of the records he gave you a few weeks ago as a 'thank you' for watching his cat— he claimed he had them 'just laying around', but both of you knew better.

— IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE I'M FALLING IN LOVE.

you turn around, moving to grab the large plate you were stacking the pancakes on when you spot him. your eyes widen and you jump a little as you lay your eyes on him— oh he looks too fine. boxers hugging his hips, that broad, hairy and scarred chest on full display.

" hey! hope i didn't wake you with the music. " you sheepishly smile, " m'sorry, it's a routine of mine. " you laugh as you turn back to scooping pancakes onto the plate.

he knows it's a routine, he eagerly listens for the sweet sound of your music each morning from the other side of the large wall separating your apartments. but you don't have to know that.

" don't worry 'bout it, doll. there'r worse ways to wake up. " he smiles. god, his smile.

you smile to yourself, turning away from him to hide your blush as you focus on the last batch of pancakes. you gasp as his big hands smooth over your hips, gently swaying with you to the music.

— AND THERE'S NOTHING THAT I CAN DO, IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW.

he smiles against your hair, it is too late, he thinks to himself. with the way his heart clenches each time he hears you play one of the records he gave you, or when he smells your perfume waft over through his window as you water your plants— he knows he's caught it hard.

— TELL YOU, I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT, FOR WANTING TO HOLD HER TIGHT.

but with the way you're laughing against him as you two sway to the music, trying to focus on not burning the pancakes— he lets his feelings wash over him in pleasant waves. it is indeed, 'too late to turn back now'.

" so, d'you want syrup with 'em? " your syrupy sweet voice pulls him out of his train of thoughts.

he blinks, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. " you're going to mix syrup with bacon pancakes? " he pokes, moving to take both plates of food from you with ease as he sets them on the table.

you laugh, a sound so sweet to him, he won't ever need extra sugar on anything as long as you're around. " oh, honey, " you grin teasingly, setting down a big jug of syrup on the table as you sit next to him. " i promise you'll love it. " you wink, pouring a generous amount over your stack of pancakes.

he hums, savoring the way you call him 'honey'. he watches you cut off a large bite with your fork, holding your hand beneath the dripping pieces, " c'mon, try it. " you grin.

he sighs with a smile, leaning forward to bite off the pieces from your fork. you giggle as some syrup drips onto his beard, leaning over to swipe it away with your thumb and suck off the sweetness.

Logan watches the action with darkening eyes, as you lick off the remainder of the syrup that dripped from the bite you offered him.

— IT'S TOO LATE TO TURN BACK NOW, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE I'M FALLING IN LOVE.

it's safe to say, he's taken a strong liking to bacon pancakes drenched in syrup.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest. 

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time. 

They’d stayed. 

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people in her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether bananas or chocolate chips go better with pancakes. 

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate. 

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it. 

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as she shifts herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a needle, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck. So close to reaching them but unable to finally get there. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as she fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours. 

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl. 

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should be -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart. 

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother. 

“Please can we go home now Mama?” 

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream, that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face. 

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place. 

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentence was going. 

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself. 

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag. 

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. And she he can feel Drew looking at her, can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own. 

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended. 

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly. 

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different. 

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. 

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them. They turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile. 

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face. 

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing. 

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself. 

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable. 

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige. 

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

*** 

August 2031 

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it.  But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home. 

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas. 

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer. 

Divorce. 

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. 

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them. 

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there. 

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over. 

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid. 

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not. 

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head. 

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails. 

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her. 

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her. 

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world. 

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman. 

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose. 

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name.  Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her. 

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition. 

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow. 

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits. 

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride. 

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her. 

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport. 

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words. 

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills. 

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?” 

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand. 

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that. 

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice. 

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found. 

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object. 

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it. 

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi. 

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears. 

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman. 

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck. 

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults. 

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?” 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh. 

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder. 

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does. 

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own. 

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie. 

***

June 2033 

Dream 64      Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream. 

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team. 

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much. 

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence. 

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first. 

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans. 

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

*** 

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing. 

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp.  And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever. 

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything. 

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out. 

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants. 

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her. 

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence. 

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door. 

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue. 

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body. 

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks. 

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again. 

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly. 

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after. 

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh. 

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies. 

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly. 

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.” 

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead. 

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now. 

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032 

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries. 

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually 

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own. 

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie. 

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing. 

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room. 

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance. 

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby. 

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi. 

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone. 

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?” 

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to. 

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself. 

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite. 

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony. 

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost. 

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out. 

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter. 

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around. 

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.  

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie. 

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call. 

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants. 

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room. 

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night. 

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight. 

“Az-” Paige calls out. 

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts. 

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be. 

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. 

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance. 

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat,  followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d  fallen back against the balcony railing. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but. 

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face. 

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan. 

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige. 

Paige looks at Azzi. 

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right. 

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet. 

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates. 

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed. 

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike. 

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd. 

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere. 

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back. 

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that that means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen. 

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence. 

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses. 

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley. 

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley. 

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand. 

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words. 

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said. 

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow. 

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly. 

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own. 

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears. 

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds. 

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks. 

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly. 

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door. 

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words. 

And Paige thinks that probably,  why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself. 

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what. 

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

[foxtrot91]

sweet like syrup

The batter sizzles as Tommy pours it into the pan, the scent of the pancake batter wafting up and filling Tommy’s senses. Evan is still sleeping in the bedroom, having arrived home late last night after his shift ran over. He’d showered at the station and had practically collapsed onto the bed next to Tommy, barely managing to grunt out a greeting before being pulled under into a deep sleep. From the messages he’d received throughout Evan’s shift, it had been a rough one.

Which is why Tommy is out here now, trying his hand at pancakes made from scratch. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of his store-bought pancake mix that he used to have before Evan had taken one look at it, shot Tommy a look of disgust and declared it sacrilege before tossing it in the trash. So now Tommy has to troll Google for pancake recipes and thank whatever god might exist that Evan has also taken to expanding the ingredients Tommy has on hand even if Tommy barely touches them himself.

The Canadian Pure Maple Syrup has been a wonderful addition, actually, – “Bobby has it shipped in from Montreal, so you know it’s legit.” – and while he wishes he had the convenience of a premade mix to go with it, he accepts the trade-off. He still hasn’t figured out the whole maple syrup grading colour system, however, but he’d enjoyed listening to Evan discuss the merits of each grade and their best uses in the kitchen.

If he’s completely honest, Tommy doesn’t notice much of a difference between the light or dark syrups and is halfway convinced that the Canadian government is involved in a conspiracy with the maple syrup companies to hoodwink Americans into spending more money for their pretentious, robust flavoured syrup. Jokes on them, Tommy decides, because he would’ve bought it regardless of some made-up grading system just for the way Evan lights up whenever Bobby brings over their portion of his latest order. Also, and he is mature enough to admit this– it’s a thousand times better than the thick, artificial table syrup he’d grown up with as a kid.

You win this one, Canada, he thinks, eyeing the can of syrup with the proud maple leaf emblazoned on the label.

He's nearing the end of the batter by the time he hears a faint shuffling coming from the direction of the bedroom. By the time Evan joins him in the kitchen, Tommy has turned off the stove and has moved to set the table with two plates, cutlery, butter – real butter, not the margarine Tommy used to carry which was another quick casualty once Evan had moved in – a stack of pancakes, and of course, the can of syrup.

“You made breakfast?” Evan says, barely suppressing his yawn long enough to get the question out. He’s sleep rumpled, wearing one of Tommy’s slightly too big sweaters and a pair of sweats that he’s yet to tie up, and Tommy knows that if the sweater weren’t hiding it from view, he’d get a delicious peek at the sliver of skin and trail of hair that leads into Evan’s pants.

Small mercies, he thinks, because if it weren’t for the bulk of the sweater, Tommy is certain they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and he’s spent way too much time putting this together to not eat it with Evan.

“I did,” Tommy says, smiling as he pulls Evan into his arms and gives him a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back. “Thought I’d surprise you… are you surprised?”

“You hate cooking,” Evan says in lieu of an answer, smiling when he looks over at the table. “It smells amazing.”

Laughing, Tommy ushers Evan over to the table and pulls a chair out for him. “Hopefully it tastes just as good,” he says with a wink as Evan sits down.

Tommy takes the seat to his right and serves up the pancakes onto both of their plates. Once adequately buttered and drenched in syrup, they both dig in. They’re definitely not as good as Evan’s – he really should ask him for the recipe he uses – but they’re still good, if Tommy does say so himself. And by the look on Evan’s face, he’d say they’re at least good enough to pass his muster. They’re quiet as they eat, the sounds of their utensils clanging on their plates the only real noises filling the dining room. It’s a comfortable silence, and given Evan’s rough shift the previous night, Tommy imagines it’s a welcome one as well.

Once they finish, Tommy stands to gather their plates, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head before he turns to wash up. There’s a certain domesticity to this that Tommy has never felt in any of his previous relationships. Evan isn’t the first boyfriend he’s lived with, not by a longshot, but he’s the first who’s ever made the kind of effort for Tommy that he is. The first to speedrun a sexuality crisis for the sheer fact that it was Tommy he wanted to be with, the first to cook him meals outside of any special occasion just because, and the first to make room for Tommy in every aspect of his life, to seamlessly fit Tommy in amongst the people he values most without a second thought.

He’s the first to make Tommy want to match his effort.

When he finishes cleaning up, he turns back to see Evan staring at him over the back of his chair. His elbow is rested on the back with his chin perched on top and he’s gazing at Tommy in a way that has a warm prickle starting up in his chest.

“What?” Tommy asks as he wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, but Tommy doesn’t try to interject. “Nobody’s ever made me breakfast before.”

That can’t be true.

“What about Bobby?”

“That-he doesn’t count,” Evan says, like it should be obvious. “I mean like… in a relationship.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, a little stunned at the thought. Evan has had many partners; surely at least one of them would’ve–

“Yeah,” he says, smiling as he stands from the chair to join Tommy where he’s standing near the counter. “Usually it’s me,” he waves a hand vaguely towards the counter before looking back to Tommy. “It was nice, being on the other side for once.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” Tommy says, “Because I’ve got Google at my fingertips and a whole host of new ingredients, kitchen appliances, and fancy pots and pans at my disposal.” Evan laughs, ducking his head at the reminder of how absolutely batshit insane he’d gone overhauling Tommy’s kitchen when he’d moved in. “I hope you’re prepared for a lot of terrible meals,” he adds, because cooking the kinds of meals Evan is capable of has never been in his wheelhouse. Pancakes are about as good as it gets. Evan giggles and shakes his head, shoving lightly at Tommy’s shoulder in response.

God, he thinks, I fucking loves this man.

“I love you,” Evan says, eyes bright.

I love you too. He thinks it; goes to say it in return as he takes in the bright blue of Evan’s eyes.

“I want to marry you,” is what comes out instead.

Evan’s eyes go wide as saucers and Tommy has a split second to think – fuck fuck fuck… before landing on, fuck it. – as Evan sputters in shock, “T-Tommy, you can’t mean-”

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer,” he says on a slightly panicked breath, “I had it all planned out for our trip next month.”

“Wait, what trip?”

“It was going to be a surprise, Bobby put the PTO in for you,” this was the one piece that Tommy had been somewhat anxious about, but Eddie had been adamant that Evan would be very much on board with Tommy’s surprise. “I’m flying us out to a private lodge a buddy of mine owns. Just you, me, and a whole lot of forest to hike through.”

“Fuck,” Evan says, eyes wide in disbelief and Tommy feels a curl of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help worrying that he’s stepped wrong here, that maybe it’s too soon. Sure they’ve been together for nearly two years now but really, what’s two years in the grand scheme of things– “Yes.”

Tommy’s brain goes abruptly offline as he processes, “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

“Yes, I will marry you,” Evan is grinning, chest shaking with barely suppressed laughter as his arms loop around Tommy’s neck and tug him in for a bruising kiss.

Groaning as they pull away, Tommy lets out a dry chuckle, “I had a whole plan,” he laments, shaking his head.

Evan isn’t having it; he takes Tommy’s face in his hands and draws him in for another heated kiss before pulling back. “Whether in some private lodge or here in our kitchen, my answer is still the same,” he says, and Tommy feels breathless.

“God I fucking love you,” he confesses, resting his forehead against Evan’s, noses brushing together.

“I know,” Evan says, and then, eyes sparkling with a little bit of mischief; “Wanna find out if engagement sex is better than normal, living-together sex?”

Tommy doesn’t have time to answer in the affirmative before Evan’s mouth is on his again, his lips still sweet with maple syrup. He feels a hand snake up his shirt as they start maneuvering towards the bedroom, losing articles of clothing along the way. He has more words to say, a whole speech he’d planned out that would show Evan just how much he means to Tommy. He’ll say them sometime, later, he thinks, when the desperation has worn off and they’re laying in the afterglow, sated, and happy.

Ao3

[ryngzmn]

clingy | D.W

PAIRING: dean winchester x werewolf!reader

SUMMARY: ever since you came along, dean hasn’t had a moment of privacy. not that he minds of course.

WORD COUNT: 558.

WARNINGS: not proofread, dean calls reader furball but there are allusions to other nicknames, very short :((

A/N: this is based off a bot I’ve made before, also in my eyes reader has like little wolf ears and a tail like in fanart you might see but I didn’t describe it in case some people didn’t want that :)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

It had been a few months — seven, more specifically — since you had started to hunt with the Winchester brothers.

And Dean was a little wary of you, to be honest. But you were a supernatural creature, a werewolf to be exact! It wasn’t a surprise he didn’t trust you.

But eventually he warmed up to you, mainly because he started realizing how useful you were on hunts with that enhanced sense of smell and hearing you had.

You seemed to warm up to Dean quickly, very quickly.

If he could describe you in one word: clingy. That would be the word he would use.

To put it nicely, you never left him alone. If he was doing his own thing in the bathroom, you’d be waiting outside. You were constantly by his side and practically breathing down his neck.

Like right now. Dean was making some breakfast while you were just watching him, not contributing in any way whatsoever. Although, he could probably say you were there for emotional support.

After a bit, Dean briefly glanced at you, seeing that you were only a few inches away from his face.

“Can you give me some room to work here, furball?” The nickname he gave you rolled off his tongue effortlessly, along with the countless other ones he had given you before.

You listened eagerly and quickly took a few steps back, your gaze darting from Dean back over to the food.

Dean noticed this and realized you must’ve been really hungry for you to be eyeing it like that. “You hungry?”

You nodded with a small ‘mhm’ and Dean chuckled.

“Well jus’ give me a few minutes and the food’ll be ready for ya.” He smirked.

“Okay!” You replied cheerfully, turning your head away from the food to look around the bunker’s kitchen. Something Dean noticed you often did when you had nothing else to do.

He let out a small huff, pausing whatever he was doing and turning to you. “Why don’t you go set the table? Food’s almost done. Also, why not wake up Sam while you’re at it?”

Dean watched as you turned and grabbed a few plates, placing them in the table and leaving some space in the middle so Dean could place the pancakes and eggs there.

He turned back to the stove and subconsciously listened to your footsteps rushing down the hallway to Sam’s room.

And by the time he was done and stacking all the pancakes onto one plate, you were already back in the kitchen with Sam in tow.

Walking over to the table, you sat down next to the spot that Dean always sat in. On purpose, of course.

Dean brought the pancakes over to the table and set them down in the middle of the table, sitting down moments later.

While everyone ate, Dean could see you out of the corner of his eye inching closer to him. He said nothing about, knowing that you just wanted it be closer to him.

It might’ve been weird that you were only this clingy with him, you were never this clingy with Sam or Castiel. He’d never bring it up though, mainly because he didn’t mind.

In fact, he enjoyed the fact that someone always wanted to be so close to him, no matter how annoying it got.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

tags! : @ryvkkr

feedback would be appreciated but not necessary!

[fandomnerd9602]

Six Months

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Your doe, your mate, had been secretive lately. Wanda was spending time alone, away from you. If you tried to enter her room, she would lock the door. If you wanted to spend an evening with her, she would run away.

“Not yet!” She would say. Her voice carried a little bit of giddiness but still you found it odd.

You and her were approaching your six month anniversary. Six glorious months of being mates. True most of it was still spent cuddling and watching movies together, neither of you were ready for anything else. But still it was glorious.

You woke up on the actual date with a smile on your face. Your plan was ready. You bolted into the kitchen in the early morning hours.

Wanda walked out of her room to the fresh smell of chocolate chip pancakes.

"Are those for me, detka?" she asks inquisitively. You hand her a stack of pancakes and give her a kiss to the cheek.

"Happy six month anniversary, my doe" you smile at her.

"Detka" she giggles.

"One more thing!" you rush into your room and pull out a small deer plushie, bringing it back to your doe like a kid on Christmas.

Wanda gasps, it was beautiful in her eyes. The fur was the same color as her hair. The antlers were shaped just like hers and the eyes were an exact match of hers. "It's like me in plushie!" she exclaims, "I love it!"

She hugs you tight and kisses your jaw. You loved her jaw kisses.

"I have a surprise for you too," she explains, "but only tonight, ok?"

"oh alright" you say playfully before you each strolled off to your rooms to go and get ready for the day.

Within the hour, Wanda was happily skipping the halls of the sanctuary. Her best wolf pal Natasha came up to her, "so did you do it yet?"

"No not yet." Wanda answers, "I'm waiting for the evening. Thanks again for helping me"

"What are pals for?" Natasha gives a little wink, "just let me know how it goes"

Wanda walked into your office with a mischievous little stride. "You're not getting a peep out of me" she states with her arms crossed.

"I'm sure whatever it is, I'm gonna love it" you give her forehead a little kiss. You pull out two PB&J sandwiches and hand one to her. The two of you playfully clink your sandwiches together and take a bite.

The day ended and so came the evening. You and Wanda ordered takeout and watched a few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show, Wanda's favorite show.

"I'm ready" she states as her favorite episode ends.

"Oh?"

"Just stay here" she says with a little smile before walking into her room. Wanda walks out holding her guitar, looking at you sheepishly. “This was my surprise for you” she steadies her guitar and begins strumming it.

I'll be your candle on the water,

My love for you will always burn.

I know you're lost and drifting

But the clouds are lifting.

Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn.

You couldn’t help but begin to tear up a little. She looked so serene as she strummed her guitar and sung.

I'll be your candle on the water,

'Till every wave is warm and bright.

My soul is there beside you,

Let this candle guide you.

Soon you'll see a golden stream of light.

The soft flicker of the Edison bulbs in your apartment illuminating her face, it just looked so serene.

Look for me, reaching out to show,

As sure as rivers flow,

I'll never let you go.

I'll never let you go.

I'll never let you go...

She brought the song to a close. You got up and walked over to her. You knelt before your doe, cupping her face in your hands.

You touched your forehead to hers. “I’ll never let you go, my amazing doe”

“Happy anniversary, my love” she giggles.

Year or two later, you found your doe gently singing that same song to your sleeping infant daughter. You just stood in the doorway listening with the same awe as you did the first time.

Your doe, Wanda Maximoff, the love of your life and keeper of your heart.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @revanshand @russianredassassin @aloneodi @julieromanoff @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[lostcherise]

Green Is the Color

pairing: jesse pinkman x f!reader

summary: Jesse - a friend, a roommate, a fool who's hopelessly in love with you. He did his best keeping his feelings on check, but it all unraveled after one night you brought a guy home. (this is based on a request by @madzzz0797 my lovely mutual)

warnings/tags: roommates!au, pining, jealousy, allusions to masturbation, light angst (if you squint, i really need to improve on that), jealous jesse, smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v,

word count: 8,237 (i'm sorry?? don't know what happened there)

 Lady, lady love me, 'cause I love to lay here lazy.

Soft and distant singing was your alarm for the day, definitely a gentler sound than the angry robotic beeping of your digital alarm clock. A sleepy smile crept its way on your lips, your eyes still shut, and you snuggled deeper into the pillow with a content sigh. You rustled about a few more seconds beneath the covers, before you bravely opened your eyes and welcomed the warm glow of a sunny Sunday morning. 

We got everything we need right here and everything we need it's enough. Just so easy when the whole world fits inside of your arms. 

The singing grew louder as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen, accompanied by some occasional clanking of utensils. Walking on your tiptoes, you tried your best to be as stealthy as possible, it was a rare occasion to get to listen to Jesse sing. Your smile grew, and you bit your bottom lip fighting the urge to laugh at him. Although he was off key at times, you somewhat enjoyed his singing voice; just as buttery smooth as always.

Like waking up too early, maybe we could sleep in. Make you banana pancakes, pretend like it's the weekend now. 

With his back still turned to you, he kept on singing, only interrupting himself for a celebratory 'yeah bitch' after successfully flipping a pancake into the air, to which you failed to contain your laugh, so much for stealth. 

"Shit," Jesse whipped his head back to look at you. So much for a greeting. "Good morning." he smiled, face a tomato red and quickly redirected his attention back on the stove and he really hoped you hadn't noticed the rosy hue adorning his cheeks. 

"Good morning," you smiled back at him. "How come you're cooking breakfast?" you peered over his shoulder, the pancake batter bubbling to life before Jesse flipped it to reveal the golden brown bottom. 

"It's my turn to make us breakfast for the weekend, remember?" Jesse noted the obvious, with a teasing raise of a brow. 

Realization hit you, sleep ridden eyes widening softly. "You're right." you bumped his shoulder with yours. 

You smiled at the little tradition you two had created a year ago, a year after living together as roommates. Each weekend you guys took turns to cook breakfast for one another. It had all started after you had seen Jesse cook for the first time,  what you later realized was his favorite choice of breakfast food - huevos rancheros. Initially, it had come as a shock to you, he really gave off the impression that he hardly knew how to boil an egg, which you also had admitted to him. And that's when he took it upon himself, as a personal challenge to prove himself and made it a house rule that you alternate cooking breakfast for each other on the weekends. 

"Banana pancakes on the menu today, m'lady." Jesse informed you in a fake posh accent. 

"God, you know your way around a lady's heart." you sighed, with a resting palm on your chest, and placed a quick peck on Jesse's cheek. Before he could even register what had just happened, you were already setting the fully stacked plate onto the small white worn down kitchen table, right next to the small kitchen stand that housed various appliances you had no room for in your guys' small kitchen . 

When you weren't looking, with your back turned to him while you set up the coffee maker, Jesse moved to graze the spot your lips had left their fiery mark on. His cheek still burned beneath his touch, even after one minute had passed- as if the blood coursing through his veins had suddenly transformed into molten lava burning him on the inside out. See, ever since you and Jesse had moved in together, he found himself in a rather sticky predicament. 

He was in love with you. And you didn't know. And mostly likely did not share the sentiment. And that's why he kept his mouth shut about it, and opted to suffer in silence. 

Even now to this day, two years after his big revelation, he was scared. Scared of how much he loved you, scared of how one day he'd wake up and decide that he would come clean, two years was a long time to keep to himself after all, and risk losing his most meaningful friendship yet.  It had been two years since that one night Jesse had come to surprise you at the end of a very tiring day of work and evening classes. He remembered how your brows were furrowed, while you hugged an oversized hoodie you had confiscated from Jesse's clean laundry two weeks prior, closer to you. Your head was hung low, and you were paying no mind to your surroundings, so much so that Jesse had to honk to get your attention. 

And the moment your mood shifted when you had noticed him, was the first time his heart swelled up in his chest. How a wide grin stretched on your face, and how you had jogged excitedly over to his beloved Monte Carlo. The second time was just minutes after you had gotten in and and he had suggested you drop by your favorite ice cream parlor for a much needed pick me up. Jesse took much pride in being able to read you so well and know what you need in an instant, and that's how he had come to the conclusion that night that we was falling for you at light speed. 

Deep down he knew that no good was bound to come out of this situation he had created for himself, but to his defense that wasn't entirely his fault; you had your part to play in this too. With the way your eyes twinkled when the sun shone just right during the golden hours of the day, the way they crinkled at the corners every time you laughed at a sorry attempt of a joke he would make, the way your nose would scrunch in distaste whenever you didn't like something, the way your plush lips pursed whenever you were deep in thought, the way your smell lingered on for just a few fleeting seconds whenever you would leave his side. You smelled like a mix of pears, oranges and jasmine, which in turn reminded him of being bundled up on the couch on a cozy autumn afternoon. And Jesse would be a liar to say that he didn't often dream of spending most of his days like that with you.  

A series of expletives left Jesse's mouth, which in turn had your attention. You whipped your head back, just in time to see a black disk being discarded into the bin. "Mmm, crispy." you mused, scrunching your face in mock delight with a shimy of your shoulders.

"Shut up." Jesse flipped you off, but the smile dancing on his lips showed no annoyance. 

With a playful eyeroll, you set two steaming cups of cheap drip coffe on the table. Jesse soon followed, a sugar jar on one hand and a bottle of maple syrup on the other. You stacked a couple of of pancakes onto your plate and proceeded to drizzle a bit of maple syrup on top, all the while Jesse threw in his fifth spoonful of sugar in his coffee. "I'm still surprised you have teeth." you quipped. 

"These bad boys?" Jesse bared his surprisingly straight pearly whites at you. "Nah, they've been through worse." he shrugged and proceeded to take a sip of his coffee flavored syrup with a hum. And he was right; he'd been four years sober and you couldn't be more proud of him. Although he hardly believed so himself, Jesse had really managed to turn his life around. Getting kicked out of his aunt's house at just 19 was the start of a long journey towards recovery for him. At first the path was lonely with a lot of setbacks. His first struggle: passing his SATs and getting accepted to college. That was when you had come into the picture and that was when the steep uphill towards the top was less bleak with you on his side. 

"That's why you should appreciate them more." you countered, left cheek all puffed and rounded, filled with sweet pillowy goodness that you washed down with bitter coffee, the contrasting flavors on your taste receptors sending happy signals to the neurons in your brain. Another bite, another appreciative hum that resembled a moan a little too much. With a quirk of a brow, you shot Jesse a quizzical look that fell unnoticed as he was too busy shoveling food in his mouth while fidgeting on his seat. 

What you did not know was that at that moment, Jesse was fighting his own personal hell; trying to get those sinful sounds of yours out of his head. You really had no business moaning over some banana pancakes, he wasn't even that great of a cook; you had to be exaggerating on purpose. If that was the case, then you had definitely gotten what you wanted. 

Oblivious, you continued eating, almost quietly. Almost. After every two bites or so, you'd sneakily slip a quiet moan that would have Jesse twitching in his pants. "You know what I think?" you asked, swallowing the last bite of your pancakes. "Ditch business," you pointed a fork at him, before grabbing another pancake from the now smaller stack. "Go to culinary school." To which you earned a disbelieving snort from him. 

"You know what I think?" it was Jesse's turn to ask you that. He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with something more as they studied your face and in those seconds you took the chance to drink him in too. The five o'clock shadow that accentuated his chiseled cheeks and jawline, his eyes; the bluest oceans you often found yourself helplessly drowning in, the way the corners of his lips quirked into a smirk. "You pretend you like my cooking so you can get in my pants." he teased, his tone lower than usual. 

"What would you do then?" you asked, surprising even yourself with your fowrward question. Part of you wouldn't mind if Jesse would brush it off entirely, pretend nothing was ever said, yet curiosity was eating at you from the inside. What would he do? What did you want him to do? It so seemed that Jesse was more dumbfounded at your brazeness, as he was a sputtering mess, wide eyes avoiding yours entirely, seemingly more focused on finishing his breakfast. Surprisingly so, another small part of you grew disappointed as seconds ticked by and Jesse remained silent, downing the last sip of his now lukewarm coffee. 

"Gonna hit the, uh," he paused to clear his throat, voice thick and strained. "Hit the shower..." Jesse jutted his jaw on one side, the tip of his tongue rolling beneath his cheek and without saying much else, getting up in a hurry. Your gaze trailed his retreating form, until he disappeared into the hallway, and inside the bathroom. 

A few seconds pass, before you decide to go back to your room, that was conveniently next to the bathroom. The sound of the shower running resonated through your room in a low, steady hum. You crawled into bed and closed your eyes as you laid there, relaxing. 

Until you heard it. 

At first you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, but no, you heard it again. A little louder this time. With your eyes transfixed on the ceiling, your mouth fell open as you let out a silent gasp. There it was again, it was almost being drowned out by the water running, but being right next to the bathroom it was hard to miss the sounds of Jesse moaning. Heat rushed to your cheeks, it felt so wrong, as if you were intruding in on his personal time. You could leave, hang around in the living room, until he finished, literally. Or, you could lay there and listen to Jesse struggle to keep his voice down, his sinful whimpers growing a tad louder as he brought himself closer to the edge. 

"Jesus." your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest at high speed. A familiar burning traveled all the way from your chest and nestled in your abdomen, your body pumping with a feeling you couldn't exactly put your finger on. Out of their own accord your thighs squeezed and squeezed until you could get a semblance of euphoria, but it was not enough. Jesse's muffled moans grew in frequency and a few curse words slipping in here and there, and you could hear the urgency in his voice. 

"Oh....fuck." it was long and drawn out, and it was like music to your ears. Silence fell from the other side of the wall other than the water hitting the shower tiles, which also stopped after a minute or two. Your heart was beating so fast, you could hear the blood pumping in your ears, because what the fuck had just happened? You had just eavesdropped on your roommate masturbating and you enjoyed it. With a swift swipe of your tongue over your dry lips, you let out a sigh and turned your head to glare at the top drawer of your nightstand. 

With a scrunch of your brows, you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, and reached inside for your old trusty pink vibrator. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, an alien sound leaving your lips as you sucked air in, and stared at the small yet wondrous toy in your hand. It sort of felt wrong that you were so turned on by your roommate jacking off, but you were so dead set on chasing your own high at that moment that you gave no second thoughts, and the toy buzzed to life. 

The next weeks were pretty much spent trying not to think about that one Sunday morning, so much so that you sought temporary solutions in going out on dates, but to no avail. You couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, maybe like the fact that you looked for Jesse in all the guys you had gone out this, 'but Jesse...' always lingering in your mind as an afterthought to every little thing. You didn't know what it was exactly about that morning, but it had awakened suppressed emotions you hadn't even realized you had, or had chosen to ignore them. Only one guy, Andrew, was deemed worthy and made the cut, and that was only because he had earned the least amount of 'but Jesse's out of the previous ones, so he had earned himself a third date. 

That is how you had ended up stumbling in inside your dark apartment, your tangled bodies hitting your entryway stand in a frenzied state of kissing and groping. 

"Shh," you mumbled in between kisses, but that only seemed to spur Andrew on, and he let out a throaty moan the moment your fingers tugged at his golden brown hair, that very much resembled Jesse's. "Be quiet, you're gonna wake my roommate up." you broke the kiss with a whisper and blindly dragged him towards your room. 

Meanwhile, he tried to attatch his lips wherever he could, whether it were along your arms, the side of your neck to which you moaned, only because your mind was wandering off to a certain someone. "I can. Question is," he paused, his lips overing just above your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "Can you?" Easy there tiger, was how you truly wanted to respond, yet you masked it with a moan. He was sweet talking you the entire time but his words fell unnoticed as they mindlessly slipped from one ear and out the other. Clothes were being discarded in a frenzy and soon enough you found yourself tangled in between the sheets with the almost stranger. 

The nightstand lamp cast a soft glow on his features, your eyes scanning his face, searching for a sense of familiarity. You found it in his eyes, the same hue as Jesse's yet they weren't the same at all. Andrew leaned down to bury himself in your neck, and your eyelids fluttered shut and pictured the only pair of blues you were longing for, while Andrew worked his way on your body, set on getting you there. The room was filled with noises of you, moans mixing in with the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin, that only grew faster by the minute. There it was, that familiar burning growing within, ready to envelop you like a wildfire. With furrowed brows, you tried to consentrate on it, trying your damn hardest not to let it slip away. Above you, Adrew groaned hotly, his rhythm growing sloppier by the second, and his hips stuttered as he stilled inside you and spilled into the condom.

And just like that, the fire dwindled. 

Jesse dragged his feet across the hardwood floor, sluggishly making his way to the kitchen, dragging a hand across his bed ridden eyes and face. Despite having splashed his face with cold water, he couldn't get rid of the sleepiness, maybe a cup of coffee would do the trick. As he neared the kitchen, he heard rustling and your muffled voice, probably talking on the phone, he assumed. He neared the kitchen entrance with a smile, ready to greet you and his entire mood shifted. 

Where Jesse normally sat on the kitchen table, when he would share his meals with you, was another man. Jesse's heart plummeted and it felt as it was being cut to pieces with a blunt butterknife, slow and painful. Maybe he was overreacting, but the way that stranger had moved the chair to be closer to you, the way his body was shifted close to yours, and the fucking way he was playing with your hands while you talked; it drove him over the edge. His chest heaved and he clutched the hem of his oversized graphic tee, trying to keep the little green monster growing inside him at bay. 

You giggled at something the guy said to you and Jesse's chest constricted, only he got to make you laugh like that. At that moment, your gaze lifted up and connected with Jesse's, surprise painted on your features for just a couple of seconds, but you hid it with a smile. "Jesse, good morning. I made extra coffee for you." you pointed at the coffee maker. 

"Mhm, morning," he mumbled under his breath. "Thanks." he tried a little louder, his voice coming out broken from the lack of use and all the pent up emotion that tightened around his throat. 

"Andrew, this is my roommate I was telling you about." you turned your attention to the guy next to you. "Jesse, this is Andrew." 

"Hi." Andrew greeted Jesse after a beat of silence. "You know," he chuckled dryly. "I thought your roommate would be a girl, to be honest." his laugh dying out as both you and Jesse remained silent, you only giving a polite smile in response and Jesse glared at how he was still holding your hand. He didn't even know this guy, if it was serious, surely he would know you were seeing somebody, so why was holding your hand as if you two were dating? 

"Why, you'd feel less threatened?" Jesse grumbled coarsely. In turn, Andrew's smile fell in an instant, his lips pursing in an o shape as he tried to process Jesse's comment. Just as shocked at Jesse's sudden aggressiveness, you momentarily pushed your head back and frowned in surprise, your eyes holding a silent conversation with his, to which Jesse merely shrugged in response. Quietly, he grabbed his favorite mug - it was a Billy the Puppet mug you had gifted him on his birthday about a year ago - poured himself some coffee and left the kitchen without a word. 

Once in the livng room, the TV came to life, Jesse flipping the channels mindlessly until he settled on some Seinfeld reruns. Ten minutes into the episode, he heard your voices approaching, yet he didn't turn his head to look as you bid Andrew farewell. Although, from the corner of his eye he was able to catch a glimpse of Andrew leaning down on your level and pecking you on the lips just as he was leaving. Jesse's top lip curled, the jealousy eating him up on the inside; that should've been him. And that chance was lost on him because he was a fucking coward, he had made his bed and now he had to lie in it. It's just that he hadn't expected it would hurt him so much and he was being unreasonably selfish for wishing things wouldn't work out between you two. 

The TV screen went black, which earned you an angry scowl from Jesse. "Yo, I was watching that!" his tone raised. 

"What was that?" you asked in the same tone, chucking the TV remote at his chest. Jesse's frown deepened, whispering a silent ow, while he rubbed the sore spot of impact. 

"What was what?" Jesse asked indignantly, emphasizing his t's. 

"Back then," you stated obviously. "In the kitchen?" you pointed at that direction, trying to get your point accross. 

Jesse let out a sarcastic snort. "Just stated the obvious." he replied more calmly this time, his eyes locked in on yours. 

"Well," your chest puffed out as you took in a deep breath, the motion catching Jesse's gaze, making his mind briefly wander off to somewhere else. "It was rude." To which Jesse merely scoffed at as a response. 

Silence fell over both of you, the tension grew and a frown resurfaced on Jesse's features again. "Look, I-" he paused to clear his throat, also recollecting his thoughts in the meantime. "I'm sorry. I'll be nicer next time." If there will be one, Jesse wanted to add but he would be treading on thin ice after that. 

"You seem to like him." he pointed out, taking in a few seconds to study your face, yet he couldn't really put a finger on the emotion painted on it, it almost gave off a vibe of uncertainty. "How long you two been goin' out?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Not long." you shrugged, tucking a strand behind your ear, then rubbing the base of your neck. That is your tell when you're nervous, Jesse noted silently to himself. "Third date was last night." 

Ah. Jesse's brows rose momentarily, the corners of his lips turning down and h,e let out a soft hum. He was aware of what happened on the third date, however, he wasn't expecting for him to have slept over. Maybe it was growing more serious faster than he thought. The monster inside him grew, its angry green vines tightening around his heart, causing his brain to paint pictures of you and him tangled in between the sheets, touching you in places Jesse could only do so in a wet dream. 

"Well, I hope it goes well." he lied through his teeth, topping it off with a smile, in hopes of sounding more sincere. 

It had, much to Jesse's disappointed, but he tried to keep that to himself, save for the sneering looks he'd throw Andrew's way the times he'd show up at your guys' apartment. All the while, Jesse tried to keep his distance the following weeks, because to himself that was the best course of action, which was turning out to be a terrible idea. Because he wasn't a regular friend, and stepping down to that status seemed to be hurting him more than not being able to be your boyfriend. In the midst of it all, he was also hurting you, it was painted on your face every day. Mainly the reason why he'd be cooped up in his room on his free time, to avoid seeing the hurt look on your face. 

Jesse was no stranger when it came to addiction, you were his vice. The most addictive drug he had ever been on; his highest highs, his lowest lows, and he was going through major withdrawal symptoms. Avoiding you like that was doing serious damage to his psyche. He was trying his damnest to detach himself from you. However, the harder he tried, the more he felt the urge to crawl into your bed, curl up against you, hold you tight until his body would mold into yours and the two of you would finally become one in the most literal sense.

Saturday morning had rolled, and Jesse having woken up first, made himself a cup of coffee. He had dragged his chair right next to the open kitchen window, blowing smoke from his cigarette outside - you hated it when he smoked it up inside the house, especially in the kitchen. After one long drag, he took a sip of coffee. Cigarettes and coffee, breakfast of champions, he thought and chuckled dryly to himself. 

"Jesse, we've talked about this before." your voice sounded defeated. 

"Cigarette's outside the house." he argued. 

"Barely." you scoffed with a shake of your head, moving to open the hood fan to get rid of any lingering smells. No reply came from him, but him putting out his cigarette when he was barely finished with it, was enough of an answer for you. 

After a quick inspection around the kitchen, you realized the sink was empty, no dirty dishes cluttering the basin, all counters and kitchen table empty, too. "No breakfast today?" you mused, unable to hide the sadness in your voice. 

Jesse replied indifferently with a grunt. "Nah, fridge was empty." 

Exasperated, you let out a huff through flared nostrils. "What's up with you?" 

That question made Jesse stir in his seat. "Dunno what you mean." he replied with a curt jerk of his shoulders. 

You move to stand near him, leaning forward to catch his avoidant gaze. "Jesse, we barely talk? And even when we do it feels as if it's done out of necessity. Also, you never," your tone increased and you followed with a pause, just for the added dramatics. "Ever, forget our weekend breakfasts." Jesse's silence fell heavy between the two of you, a disappointed scowl gracing your face. That's what upset Jesse even more, he'd rather have you be annoyed, angry at him, than disappointed. Anything. Anything but disappointed, because he feared that's when he would start losing you. 

Torn at the turn of events, Jesse was beginning to second guess his method and it seemed he was left with the only option he had left. That, of course, was to come clean, which was much easier in theory. 

"Don't you have like a date to go to?" Jesse asked, dismissing your previous comments entirely. His lips were formed in a tight line, he was unsure of why he was asking that, knowing the answer would hurt him. 

"Actually... we broke up two days ago." 

"Yeah? Why?" Jesse kept his head hung low, however he lifted his gaze to study you. There was a large hole at the hem of your shirt, it had once belonged to him and even used to be one of his favorites, up until one time it got snagged in the dryer. It had become your go to sleep attire from then on. Your finger kept tracing circles around the edges of the hole nervously. 

"Don't know, I broke up with him. It felt as if something was missing." 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Oh, I'm good." your voice brightened a bit, the usual perk in your tone almost there. "He was more bummed than me, though." you grimaced and shrugged it off. 

Jesse simply nodded in response, this time really lifting his head to properly look at you and he swore you looked as if there was something else lingering at the tip of your tongue, but you kept your lips sealed. Instead, you asked, "Wanna grab waffles?"

The drive back home was silent, the only sound in the car cabin was the occasional slurping of your lemon flavored slushy. Although, you had somewhat tried to maintain your weekend tradition, your shared breakfast seemed more forced than having a date with a guy your mom had set you up with. Without having realized you had just arrived home, Jesse had just pulled the handbrake up, the croaking of the lever breaking you out of your trance. On the way up the stairs, Jesse kept his pace up a few steps ahead of you, the soles of his Nikes screeching as they rubbed against the stairs. The flesh of your bottom lip was trapped beneath your teeth, the corners of your mouth also forming a harsh frown. A dull pain shot through you when you dug your teeth in deeper, while you tried to bury your frustration building up within. You were losing your best friend and worst part of it all was you didn't know why. 

First thing Jesse did once he set foot in, was chuck his black beanie on the hallway stand, most of his sandy brown hair was sticking out in various places in a disheveled mess, while the ones closer to his face stuck on his skin, a shade darker and wet with sweat. 

"Jesse." 

"Jesse." you repeated sternly, not accepting his low grumble of a response. 

"What?" 

You bit your lip again, the frustration brewing in your stomach making you nauseous. "You tell me." 

"There's nothing to tell." Jesse feigned confusion, again. He kicked off he shoes and trudged to the living room, plopping himself on the sofa, the old piece of furniture groaning beneath his weight. You followed in, only seconds after, each step growing more powerful as frustration turned into anger. 

"Don't play dumb with me. Tell me what's going on." you demanded as you stopped to stand in front of him, between the couch and coffee table. 

Jesse's forehead wrinkled in exasperation, his icy blues bore into you. Though, just for two seconds and they fell back on his lap. 

"You've been avoiding me, and don't you dare," you pointed a finger at him just as his head snapped up, his mouth moving to say something, "Don't," you paused again, closing your eyes and exhaling, "Don't you dare deny it." 

Jesse sat there stunned and accepted your outburst in silence, because he wasn't dumb to not know it was well deserved. Your eyes left his form and darted up to the ceiling, feeling the corners tickling with fresh, warm tears that threatened to spill. "I feel... I feel like I'm losing you. I'm losing us." you cried into the ceiling. "I'm losing us and it hurts." 

"Yeah, well loving you hurts me more." Jesse snapped, jumping up to his feet. "Every day hurts because I'll always be your best friend, your-your r-roommate," he spat those words out as if they were poison. "It fucking hurts how you try and find happiness in other guys, yet it never works out. I-I could make it work out, but you won't give me a chance." he was yelling at this point, his neck red and strained while his voice ripped through.

Dumbstruck you stand there with your mouth agape, your mind in a state of delirium upon hearing Jesse's confession. Your stomach was doing somersaults and if you felt nauseous before, then now you definitely felt like throwing up. It seemed as if it was your body's natural response at that point. 

"I want to be happy for you, I do. Call me selfish all you want, but I can't stand you looking happy in somebody else's arms - like that bitch, Andrew." Jesse spat his name. 

"I wasn't." you whisper, and upon Jesse's silence you continue, "I wasn't happy with him, I mean. That's why I broke up with him; because in every thing he did, I kept searching for you in him and it was never going to work out." you confess, waiting for Jesse's response. His eyes darted left and right as he was trying to process your own confession. 

He sized you up, lingering for a little longer on your lips. "So what does this mean?" he asked lowly, voice tired and hoarse. 

"Just fucking kiss me, dumbass." 

In light speed, his lips came crashing down on yours; teeth clashing and all. It was by no means what you would usually describe as a perfect kiss, though it was full of raw and pent up emotion, so much so that you were flying on cloud nine. With every move of his lips against yours, he unleashed the sea of emotions into you; that way he wasn't drowning anymore, that way he could finally stay afloat with you by his side. 

"I love you too." you whisper softly against his lips, before pulling him in for another kiss, more gentle this time. You use your body to push his back down on the couch, landing with a loud thump. Automatically, your legs are on either side of his hips, your core nestled against his thigh when you opened up your legs to shift yourself to sit closer to him on his lap. Your hands held on his cheeks while you moved to kiss every inch of his face, your thumbs caressing loving shapes on his skin. Settling with a ghost of a kiss on the corner of his lips, you move to nuzzle your nose against his, your foreheads touching. 

"I want you, so bad." his hot breath fanned against your face, it tickled your lips and you closed the gap between you to satisfy the itch. Slowly, but surely, you felt yourself melting into him with each passing second, with each swipe of his curious tongue against yours. Jesse's kisses were like a drug, and now that you had finally had your first taste, you were already hooked. His cheeks burned hot beneath your palms, also loving the contrast of the soft skin on his cheekbones, with the roughness of his four day stubble. Reluctantly, you moved your hands away from his face, resting them on his shoulders, massaging them and moving to do the same on his chest and then back up. 

Meanwhile, Jesse's hands were on your lower back, too hesitant to move down to squeeze the slopes of your ass. "I want you to touch me." 

Jesse groaned, his hands immediately taking heed of your command. While his hands were preoccupied, he moved down to attack your neck with a trail of blazing kisses, stopping once he had found that sweet spot that had you writhing on his lap, where it turned into biting and sucking on supple skin, selfishly branding your skin purple. All the while, your hands slowly crept down his abdomen and up his shirt, memorizing how every inch of him felt. Thinking that it would be easier to do so without a shirt on, your hands found their way on his hoodie, peeling it off his shoulders. Jesse abandoned his post on your neck for a few seconds, so he could pull his t-shirt off his head, his upper body completely bare; he was all lean muscle. 

"Take off yours too." he mumbled, his hungry mouth attatched to your neck once more. 

"Mhm, no." you giggled as he playfully bit you. 

"Not fair, mine's off." Jesse complained. His deep, gravelly voice rumbled against your skin, causing electrifying bursts of pleasure to vibrate thoughout your entire body. His hands were off your ass, already hitching your sweater up, his nimble fingers moving up to trace the outline of your unclad breasts. "Shit, no bra?" he bit his lip and broke into a wolfish grin, making heat rise all the way up to the tips of your ears. 

Your hands abandoned their resting place on his chest and moved above your head. Jesse lowered his head, but his big blue eyes stared up at you his pupils blown out from all the love and deep want he held for you. Ever so tantalizingly slow, he pulled your sweater up inch by inch, placing hot open mouth kisses on each inch of skin slowly revealed. Once the garment was fully off your head and on the living room floor somewhere, he buried his face in the valley of your breasts, his nose rubbing against the mounts of flesh, as he took a hardened nipple in his mouth. 

Not once did his eyes leave yours, his powerful gaze along with his gentle assault on your nub had you moaning and clenching around nothing. His lips curled around your nipple sucking it even further into his mouth, all the while his tongue curled around it. The pent up need and desire was accumulating in your chest and it felt like a nuclear reactor about to go off. Jesse moved to pull back from your breast, only after softly biting and grazing his teeth on your soft flesh, causing you to take in broken breaths. 

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" he said and rested his chin on your chest. His eyes were wide open, literally and figuratively, so open he was allowing you to look in to all those feelings he had tried to keep hidden; for the first time in years he had the chance to be really open with you without any fear whatsoever. At a loss for words, you simply pulled him in for a searing kiss, fingers coming up to tangle at the roots at the back of his head, his own mimicking your actions. Too lost in the moment, you started grinding down on him, feeling him harden through his baggy sweats. 

"Let me help you with that, hm?" you whispered hotly in his ear, biting on his earlobe and tugging harshly, earning a shocked moan from him. You pulled back just in time to see his face flushing a beet red and you smiled smugly. You took your own sweet time as you slid off his lap, not wasting any second to leave his chest and abs unattended, making sure his skin was marked. Teasingly, you halted for a moment, your lips hovering over his clothed length for a couple of seconds before you made contact with him, mouthing his cock over the cotton fabric of his sweats. His thighs had now replaced his shoulders as your resting place, and you made sure you massaged him as your curious hands worked through their ascent towards his waistline. Immediately, your fingers hooked around the elastic bands of his sweats and boxers, pulling them both down with a swift movement; Jesse slightly moving his hips upwards to assist you. 

His hardened cock sprang free and you took a moment to drink in the sight of him, all spread out on the couch, flushed and naked. Your thighs rubbed together, the heat in your core increasing just by looking at him.  Wanting to savor this moment, you started slowly kissing your way up his inner thighs, until the tip of your nose bumped against his balls. Teasingly, you took one in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. A strained curse was heard above you and you lifted your eyes to see that Jesse's were shut, his face contorted in pleasure. Your hand was wrapped around his shaft, idly moving up and down in a circular motion, coming all the way to his tip to collect the bead of precum, and rubbing it all along his length as you stroked your way back down. Your mouth found its way on his other ball, repeating the same rolling action with your tongue, before moving to put both in your mouth. 

With a lewd sound, you pulled away, a string of drool connecting his balls and your mouth. Collecting more spit, you spat on his tip and slathered his girth with it. You took a moment to examine the sight in front of you, moving to lock gazes with Jesse, both of you looking at each other with lust blown eyes. Biting your lip, you teased your way to his tip, beginning to suckle on it gently. After a few seconds of only paying attention to his head, Jesse was growing impatient, trying to thrust himself further into your mouth, "Fuck, you're killing me." he let out a high pitched whimper. 

Almost sorry for teasing him, you bob your head up and down, easing him on gently against your tongue, allowing your jaw to get used to his size as you took him deeper, inch by inch. Finally, with a low hum your nose bumped against his pelvis the moment you took him all in. You'd never been so full. Pulling away for a much needed breath of air, you returned to the task ahead of you, with much more vigor, suppressing your gags as you rhythmically bobbed your head up and down his shaft; making sure to hollow out your cheeks for extra suction. 

Jesse was a whimpering mess and his sounds took you back to that day you had overheard him pleasuring himself, the memories of that day fueling the fire burning within you. Your own moans vibrated against his cock, making his whimpering moans grow in volume. The wet patch on your underwear just reminded you of how much you also longed for his touch, but you kept on gowing until you felt your jaw numbing, only then did you pull away. 

Your lips urgently met his in a frantic, yet passionate kiss. "I want to feel your lips on mine." you whispered lowly. 

For a second, that left Jesse confused, given how he was just kissing you, until realization finally clicked and he immediately sprang to action. Your positions were now reversed, helping Jesse unbutton your jeans as his trembling hands struggled. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous." he apologized, seemingly embarrassed. 

"Me too." you reassured, unzipping your pants and letting them peel your jeans off of you; the pair of pants meeting its fate on the floor along with all the other discarded items of clothing. You were left in just some old pink cotton hipster briefs; your choice of underwear clearly showing that you hadn't been expecting this turn of events. Though, to Jesse you still looked hot, hell, he'd think the same if you even wore a sack of potatoes. He gulped loudly, his eyes transfixed on the large wet spot in the middle of your undies; God, you were soaked.  

Unlike you, he skipped the teasing entirely, diving straight into work, ripping your panties off of you and delving into your pussy. He was eating you like a man starved, nose buried up all up in your pussy, constricting his airflow, but he didn't care, he was ready to suffocate. Just then, he made it his life's mission; to die nose deep in your needy pussy, the thought bringing him utter bliss. With just one taste of you, he was already drunk on your taste. 

He hummed against your center, his tongue moving in circles around your swollen clit in a steady motion that was bringing you closer  and closer to seeing stars. Breaking away for a much needed breath of air, he angled your hips forward closer to the edge, throwing your legs up wide and open. He kneeled a bit further, taking a mental picture of the sight in front of him. "I'll never get tired of seeing this." he moaned, angling himself lower to proceed on pleasuring you. His tongue lapped up all your juices and slid in and out of you; your soft muscles tightening around him. You glanced down on him, noticing how his right arm was moving up and down stroking himself while he ate you out. His voice vibrated against you in a low moan, and you felt your thighs quake as you were nearing to the edge. 

"Please, I need you." you begged, tugging at his hair in a motion for him to stop. Funnily, Jesse seemed to be more disappointed than you, not being able to get you off at least once before he was inside you, but if you were so willing to forgo that part, then he didn't mind; anything to keep you happy. 

Soon enough, Jesse found himself sitting on the couch once more with you straddling his lap. Your hand moved in between you, grabbing on the base of his dick, angling his tip right at your entrance. Given how wet you were, you sank down on him with ease, and you sat unmoving for a few seconds relishing in the way he filled you up just right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Jesse's hands found their way on the flesh of your ass, squeezing you lightly and moving to grind your hips against his in a motion for you to start moving. With no further need for instructions, your hips began rocking up and down in a familiar motion on his length. 

Jesse's right arm snaked around your waist, holding you down and pulling you in, flush against his chest, while his other hand moved to cup the side of your face to bring you in for a kiss. It was the gentlest kiss you'd exchanged thus far, his lips slow and deliberate against yours. You moaned against his lips, your clit occasioanlly rubbing against his pelvis, each time you gound your hips as you came down on his cock, causing your walls to tighten around him as you were a few steps away from nearing your release. Jesse was too, given how he couldn't contain his moans and whimpers, accompanied by a series of praise for you. 

"You ride me so well, baby." Baby, such an ordinary word, yet it had you reeling with a flurry of emotions. You didn't mind though, in fact you should get used to that now. 

Your ass slapped against his thighs rhythmically, the set pace quickening with each descent. 

"Oh, God baby, I'm so close." you whined and pressed your forehead against his. You stopped going up and down and started to grind your hips against his, seeking the much needed friction on your clit to bring you over the edge. 

"Let it out for me, let it all out." Jesse whispered before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Angry red scratches marked his chest and you dug them even deeper once your hips stalled their movement. Your orgasm ripped though you in a hot white flash and your thighs trembled with pleasure. 

Not given even a second to recollect yourself, Jesse gripped your hips so hard they would be bruised tomorrow. Angling you a bit higher, his hips began pounding into you in a fervent pace. Your hands steadied themselves around his neck, your fingers locked in around the roots of his hair. They were a bit sweaty, but so were yours and you truly didn't mind. All you cared about at that moment was to get to see him come. His breath came out in broken gasps, mingled in with some moans here and there and beads of sweat collected on the corners of his brows. Overstimulated from your previous orgasm, you felt your walls tighten around him once more, a telltale sign of the fire igniting within you once more. 

One of his hands left your hip and moved up to brush away loose stands that were sticking to your sweaty forehead, his touch featherlight and sweet, in contrast to the way he was fucking into you like a madman. "I'm gonna come." he groaned. 

So lost in bliss, all you could do was nod. His pelvic bone was hitting against your clit, just the right way for you to clench around him and come undone once more. You came so hard your breath was knocked over and you felt like passing out. Jesse hissed, your cunt still pulsed around him and it sent him over the edge with a groan. His already tight grip tightened even more the moment he spilled into you, coating your walls white with his cum. After a few seconds, his moans died out and his head slumped back on the couch and looked up to the ceiling. "Shit that was..." 

"That was amazing." you both spoke at the same time and broke into a smile. 

You were still on him, he was still in you and if it weren't for his cum dripping out as his cock softened you would've stayed like that a little longer. However, afraid to make a mess, Jesse got up to grab a clean washcloth you wipe you both clean. Once you were both all wiped up, you laid down on the couch in a tangled mess of naked limbs. 

Both of you remained quiet, there was no need to say anything for the moment was perfect as it was; you on his chest, hearing the steady drum of his heart, him drawing soothing patterns on your back. Seconds after, though it was Jesse who broke the silence as a thought occured to him. 

"Whose room are we gonna sleep now?" 

tags: @madzzz0797 @nika-sophie05

[thatdeadaquarius]

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

stsg x angel

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

snippet: measly 0.5k of an insight into my poly!stsg brain. reader is neutral!

warnings: stsg it it's own warning. suggestive language, suggestive dom/sub behavior and dynamics. reader being a pouty angel ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ also, proabably poorly edited

author's note: dawg i just had some inspo and had to put thoughts to paper. and i must share! please enjoy my brain rot, my little clan of followers and those who will be searching in these tags.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

“Would you suck the strap?”

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru. Please don’t start right now.”

“But I’m serious!”

“Shut up, Suguru is still sleeping.”

“I’m not.”

You palm your face, glaring at Satoru through your fingers, “You woke him up.”

“I doubt me talking about your sexual tendencies woke up the household princess.”

“Can you just flip the pancakes?”

“Oh, you’re making pancakes?” Suguru murmurs, gruff and syrupy. His hair is haphazard, yet silky and smooth. The frizzled strands frame his angular, gaunt face. It’s too cold for there to be color in his face, kissed by late moonlight instead.

“Yes, like the mother hen I am.”

Suguru has a sleepy, languid smile on his face when he watches you roll your eyes. You’re in the prettiest pajama set- cozy and warm and accentuated, eyes still riddled with sleep, head of hair a little out of place. But the light flooding the kitchen makes your cheeks glow.

“We don’t need a mother hen in the house.”

“Oh, please,” Satoru snorts, waving around a spatula with chunks of gooey batter threatening to splash against the back of the kitchen wall, “‘Toru, please make me some breakfast. Toru, I’ll give you a kiss if you-“

“I didn’t say that.” You bark, brows furrowing. Placing your hands on your hips, you frown.

Satoru beams. “You might as well have- it was with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” There’s a pout on your face when Suguru has the audacity to smile. “They were half closed when I walked into the kitchen this morning-“

“They wouldn’t have been if you drank the tea I made you-“

“I did drink it.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s lips quirk, satisfaction apparent in his shrewd smile. “You’re such a good pet for listening.”

Your cheeks burst into flames, mortification further trailing into the deep lining of your gut when the little, white haired freak has the audacity to coo. Suguru holds a hand up, and both of you quiet. Submission is a small word compared to what authority he can pull from the two of you.

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru.”

And you smile, looking at the man who might as well have hung the moon and stars and sun himself. Shit, he might as well be the sun. The gravitational pull of the planet of you and Satoru that make it bearable living together.

That shatters briefly when he murmurs slyly to Satoru as he flips a partly burnt pancake, “Give it at least an hour or two before you start making her look like that.”

“Suguru.” You whine and he smiles the type of smile that melts your insides.

Huffing a breath, he tells you about going to get ready, to be good before he leaves the kitchen- abandoning you and Satoru in a vice like silence. There’s a pout on your face, laboriously crawling onto the kitchen counter to swing your sock-covered feet while the devious little shit continues to stack up pancakes as though there were four more of you in the house.

But they have an insatiable appetite, so it's a comment you hold with a bite of your tongue.

[shadowbriar]

James Potter - Traitor

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.9k Warning : Cliffhanger (sort of). Not proofread as always. Synopsis : As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away. Notes : Inspired by this request and Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor. Pretty sort as I don't know if anon would like a happy or sad ending? If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that when he pulled that stunt at the Great Hall, proclaiming his feelings and just how desperate he’s been to get her attention, that it was only a projection of the words he wanted to confess to another. She should’ve known that when he looked at her with those eyes that were filled with love, it would never compare to the affection he hoards for another. She should’ve known that with every promise, every sweet nonsense he whispered to her ears, they were truly addressed for another.

The signs were laid bare for her to see. From the way he stopped holding her hands in the hallway to making up excuses and cancelling their dates. His kisses have turned into quick pecks before they’re gone altogether. The jokes he used to share have stopped coming. Dissipating into thin air with no warning.

Supposedly it was her fault. She should’ve said something, calling him out from the lack of effort he’s been showing but she knew she was pulling on a thin thread. Their relationship has always been based on a frail foundation. She knew that deep down there was no other woman that could topple his first love, so she kept quiet. Crying herself to sleep and praying to whoever might listen out there to help salvage their relationship. Anything to keep him just a little bit longer.

“Love, you left your hair tie in my room,” James says once he takes a seat, busying himself with the stack of pancakes in front of him.

She takes the unassuming item and examines it. This hair tie wasn’t hers. She doesn’t have bright orange hair ties, “This isn’t mine, James.”

“Oh,” He responded, taking the item and placing it in his pocket nonchalantly “Must be Lily’s then.”

“Lily?”

“Yeah, we had an impromptu study session last night after our rounds. She helped me with my potion essays.”

“But we promised to do that essay together,” She says, forcing a smile as she tries her best to conceal her disappointment and heartbreak “I waited for you to have some free time so we can work on it together.”

“Yes well, like I said, it was an impromptu session. We finished our rounds earlier than expected so we figured we could use the free time to do the assignment.” He explained, still oblivious to the harm done to her heart “Shouldn’t you be proud I’ve finally managed to finish an assignment earlier than due? This is a huge improvement for me, don’t you think?”

Her head nods, another pretend smile decorating her face. James looks happy and proud of his achievement. It was true. When else would you find James Potter diligently working his schoolwork? He’s always been one of those students who waits for the adrenaline rush of working everything at the last minute. He’s brilliant, perhaps too brilliant to ever spare an hour in revising his notes and making flashcards for the upcoming exams, so this certainly is a huge improvement to celebrate for. If only it wasn’t because of Lily.

“You’ve been spending more time with Lily, lately.” She points out. Her hands were shaking, knowing that the pool she’s stepping in might be deeper than it seems and she might not know how to swim to the shore but she needed to start somewhere. She needs to save their relationship somehow.

James’ brows furrow, a slight sign of disagreement, “Not really. Our rounds just happened to be scheduled together a lot this month.”

“Well, you also cancelled our study date last week for her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she needed my help with Divination.”

A rude laughter escapes her, “You’re the worst from our House in Divination, James. She doesn’t need your help.”

“Where are you going with this?” He finally snaps, turning to face her with evident annoyance in his eyes “I thought you would be happy with me finally trying to fix my grades.”

“I am. I just didn’t realise that needed to be done by increasing the amount of time you share with your ex-crush.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous?”

She was quiet now. Sure it was jealousy that plagued her mind the first time he began drifting away but these days, these days she’s only been insecure and worried for their sinking ship. Anxiety over the chance of her being replaced by someone who has always had his heart has been haunting her nights. As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away.

“You’re being paranoid, again.” James scoffs, turning completely blind and deaf to her silent agony “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. I’m trying to fix my grades for me. She just happens to be a great teacher and companion to help me study.”

She's still quiet, weighing if she should believe his words.

"Please, I don't want to fight," James sighs, dropping the fork on his hand and taking hers to show his sincerity "She's just a friend, I promise."

There was truly nothing left for her to say that wouldn’t act as petrol to their burning bridge. James wasn’t listening. For a while now he hasn’t truly cared about a word she’s said and it was painful to finally understand this. That he might never have been as sincere as she thought him to be. Or perhaps he did, once, yet that feeling has died a long time ago with no chance of revival. His feelings for her have withered, faded into nothingness.

And it’s only a matter of time before the flame in her heart dies too.

—-

It was a nasty fall.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much worry and cried so much from something Madam Promfrey claims as ‘nothing but a light nudge on the head’, but she was there when the bludger hit his head. She was there when James began losing balance of his broom and falling to the hard ground. She was there when the team crowd around their passed out captain.

Her eyes were getting heavy now. The watch on her wrist has shown that she has skipped dinner a few hours ago. Some of the lights on the hospital wing have been turned off, making the hall darker as night falls deeper. If it wasn’t for the boys coming to visit James half an hour ago, she would be left starving and secretly creeped out by the eerie feeling of the infirmary.

“You should get some rest, Love, you’ve been waiting here for hours.” Remus advises, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“He should be up anytime soon, now,” She reasoned as she looked up to see the tall boy “I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Trust me, Dove, knowing Prongs, he might just sleep in till tomorrow,” Sirius added “Besides, you won’t miss a thing. He’ll still be the same obnoxious Potter tomorrow morning.”

A small curl of smile tugs on her lips.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Peter offers this time.

“You don’t have to, Wormy. I’m fine—”

“Dove, please,” Sirius begs “You look awful. And I mean this in the most endearing way but you could really use a bath.”

“Thank you, Pads,” She rolls her eyes, finally standing from her seat and glaring at the raven haired boy “Your honesty is always something I could count on, even in the darkest time.”

Sirius grins, nodding, “I am a man of honour.”

“Let me know if anything happens? If he wakes up?”

“We will,” Remus reassures “Goodnight, Love.”

With a last bid of hug and ignoring the still awful churning feeling in her gut, she links arm with Peter and walks out of the hospital wing. It’s been hours since she’s waited for her boyfriend to wake up from his sleep and the fatigue plaguing her body has only been recognised as she takes further steps away from the infirmary. Perhaps the worry has amplified the soreness of her muscles. It’s never an easy life dating the Captain of Gryffindor team.

She hates to admit it, but she might really need that bath Sirius was talking about.

And just when they were about to exit the tower, her brain reminded her of her left satchel, “Shoot, I forgot something.” She groans, letting out a frustrated sigh “Give me ten minutes?”

“Is it that important?” Peter asks “We can just bring it to you later.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I have to finish my paper for the first period tomorrow, I need to get my satchel.”

Peter only nods at her as she begins running back to the ward. Truth be told, she’s finished the paper as she waited for James earlier. Leaving her satchel was completely by accident and she could’ve just continued walking back to her dormitory and ask the boys to bring it to her later, but why would she pass up a chance to see her boyfriend one last time?

“So did she come?”

A smile blooms on her face as she hears James’ voice echoes faintly. He’s up.

“Of course she did, she waited for you for hours.” Sirius answers “She’s your girlfriend, Prongs, she never left.”

“Oh,” James answered, the disappointment dripping from his tone slows down her steps “I was asking about Lily, actually.”

There was a pause. She could see Sirius and Remus exchanging a glance from behind their backs. If it wasn’t for the curtain blocking James’ view, he would’ve seen her coming.

“So did she come?” James asks again.

“No, Prongs. Why would she come?” Remus asks, his tone slightly rising in annoyance.

“I don’t know,” James answers “I thought we were getting closer. I just figured she’d want to check on me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Sirius says this time, the same level of irritation evident in his tone “Why are you even thinking of her? You have a brilliant girlfriend who cares for you. Who literally spent hours sitting on that awful chair, worried about your bonked head, and the first thing you asked about when you woke up was Lily?”

“It was just a question, Pads. No need to get all worked up on me.”

“Well, your question is rubbish, Prongs.”

“Why are you—”

“Hey guys,” She says, finally showing herself from behind the curtain “Sorry, I left my satchel. Oh, hello James, you finally woke up.”

She could see the surprise on James’ eyes that he quickly blinked away with a sweet smile, “Hello, Darling.”

“I’m glad you’re up. Are you feeling okay?”

“Still dizzy, but I’ll live.” He says warmly “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Uh, no, I need to finish my papers.” She says instead, fighting the loud ringing in her ears from the heartache “Besides, you need all the rest you could get. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“But you wouldn’t—”

“I really need to go. Peter is waiting for me,” She cuts in “Good night, James.”

She glances at Remus and Sirius for a brief moment. Staring at them for too long would make all the dam she’s trying to uphold break lose and the last thing she’d want to do tonight would be to cry in front of James. No, she would not give him that satisfaction. It is one thing to deny and avoid all of her questions and another to actually dismiss her presence. Perhaps it's time for her to accept that the heart James wears on his sleeve was never hers to begin with.

As she walks out of the infirmary for the second time tonight, she could hear Sirius’ curse faintly, “You’ve lost her for good now, Prongs.”

[spacecaravan]

Short Stack

pairing: rooster x reader word count: 4.8k 🥞☕🥓

"You're driving me crazy over here, honey," Bradley said with a pout from his spot in your kitchen, whining as he stared at you, your back to his front as you stood at your spot in front of the gas stove. 

It was a picturesque Sunday morning, the air was warm and sweet-smelling as the wind floated in from the open window, dainty linen curtains blowing enchanting shapes in the breeze. You had asked Bradley if he wanted to eat breakfast outside today since, as you had put it, it would be such a waste if we didn't. 

"Hm?" you hummed in response, resting your cheek on your shoulder as you craned your neck to glance over at the pilot, your hands busy tending to pancakes sizzling away on the stovetop "what'd you say, baby?" finding it a little hard to hear him over the speaker you had playing next to you on the countertop.

"You expect me to just sit over here while you're over there looking like that?" he questioned in an incredulous tone, his legs were wide open, palms splayed over his bare thighs while he watched you, his pajama shorts riding high on the tan skin underneath. 

You raised your eyebrows, eyes glinting curiously in his direction before you bent over at the waist to check the bacon crisping up in the oven. Old sweatshirt riding up just enough to drive Bradley wild as you batted your lashes at him, stoking the flames you loved to be warmed by.

"What's that, Bradley?" you said, dimples threatening to break through the coy smile you were trying to hide, "don't you want me to take care of you like I promised?" you teased, reminding Bradley of the moments that had transpired not too long before he was sat sipping coffee in one of his favorite places in the world, your kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning.

"Sleepy girl," 

His favorite way to wake you up on Sundays was to whisper in your ear as he snuck his hand up the front of whatever soft top you happened to fall asleep in. Warm hand reaching for your breasts, but wanting you to be awake before he teased you so he could listen to you react.

"Good morning, baby," he rasped in your ear, his eager fingers ghosting over your bare nipples after he felt you stir, relishing in the pleased little sound you made in the back of your throat in response to his touch, nipples pebbling immediately under the tips of his fingers.  

The night before you promised him you'd wake up early and make him a nice breakfast: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, perfectly cooked bacon, coffee the way he likes it — the works — he deserved it, you'd said. 

You spent that night cooing in his ear about how he worked so hard on base, pressing wet kisses across his bare chest as you praised him, moaning desperately into the air as he pressed his thumb softly on your clit as you rode him—couldn't stop telling him how desperately you wanted to make him feel good.  

"You deserve to feel so fucking good all the time, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, your skin hot and flushed as you fell apart on top of him, "and I'm going to make sure you do. I'm going to treat you so, so good, baby." you moaned into his ear before you felt him filling you up in your favorite way. 

So blinking your eyes open, to see your bedroom bathed in the hazy morning glow while Bradley's hard cock pressed firmly against your ass, was not what you needed to have the productive morning you'd promised. 

"Bradley," you forced out in your rough morning tone, a warning, at least that's how you intended it to sound. 

"Mhm?" Rooster grumbled from behind you, pulling you tighter to his sleep-warmed body as he pushed his wet lips and scratchy mustache into your soft neck. "love hearing you say my name," he mumbled, "lemme hear it again, sweet girl," a tiny kiss pressed into the back of your hairline, "y'smell so good by the way, always do." he said, his tone laced with affection as he inhaled your scent, pressing tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat.

"Bradley," you repeated, placing your hand on top of the one he had resting on your hip, managing to flip yourself so that you were facing him, staring directly into his eyes. "good morning." 

You kissed him softly on the lips before taking both of his hands between your bodies and pressing them above your breast, inhaling deeply and letting him feel your heartbeat. Rooster was strong, there was no denying it. But, for all that strength, Bradley was also putty in your hands, made utterly helpless at the site of your eyes on his. His body went completely pliant the moment you locked eyes with him and put your hands anywhere on his body. 

"G'morning," he sighed, losing his train of thought in the way the sunlight made your skin glow. Bradley pressed a soft kiss onto your nose as he breathed you in, his chest pressing against your joined hands as he moved closer, tangling your feet beneath the soft blankets. 

"Remember what I promised?" you reminded him, taking in his dreamy expression, keenly aware of how shallow his breaths were as he gazed at you, "I gotta start cooking, honey. Wanna treat you to this."

His mouth parts, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he watches you speak. Leans in closer to listen to you whisper sweetly about how you wanted to take care of him. 

"Or," he started, mustache quirking slightly as a smirk took over his features, "you stay here," he paused for a moment, his larger hands overlapping yours to bring your knuckles up to his warm lips, "and you let me take care of you — let me make you feel good."

Hearing him say that made your heart pound, made your entire body tingle all over and tempted you to no end. But you wanted, no needed, to do this for Bradley. You had been planning this ever since the last time you cooked for him and he wouldn't shut up about how he loved watching you in the kitchen.

Went on and on about how he was ready to be a stay-at-home anything if it meant getting to watch you act out all the fantasies he held deep inside, close to his heart. Fantasies of domestic bliss, of a life with someone who cares for you, who adores you, and in return, someone to make it all worth giving a shit about. 

And as much as you loved taking care of Bradley, you could never get enough of the way he would playfully nudge you away from the sink the moment he saw you starting to wash up after a meal. He always wanted to help, wanted to be involved, wanted to fill you up with the same type of affection you poured into him. 

"Excuse me miss," he would start, his hip bumping yours as he came to stand at the sink, "what do you think you're doing over here?" his smile was always infectious at this point, his large hands coming in to pluck the sponge straight from your wet fingers, "go relax, go get comfy. I'll do the rest." and with that final word, he would kiss you into total submission and send you on your way with a tap to your bottom.

"Later," you whispered, "stay in bed. I'll bring you coffee in a bit," 

You freed your hands from his grip and gently brushed your fingers over his cheekbone. He immediately leaned into your soft touch, allowing you to rise easily, his lips forming a pout as he watched you move to exit the bedroom. 

"You're torturing me," he said, propping himself up on his palm, elbow digging into the mattress as he shifted, his other palm coming out to reach for you in a desperate final attempt to get you back under the warm sheets.

You couldn't help the grin that blossomed on your face as you basked in Bradley's warm gaze. 

"Lucky for you," you started, cheek pressed to the door frame as you watched him, "you're trained to handle tough situations like this. Aren't you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you slipped out before he could give you a response. 

Walking down the hall you heard him groan and flop back down onto the mattress, could clearly picture him running his hands over his face and through his sleep-mussed hair as he shook his head with a smile. 

And that's how you ended up here, sunshine coming softly through your kitchen window while Bradley sat wide-legged at your breakfast nook. His large body settled into the cushion you and your friends had DIY'd one Friday evening, after two bottles of chilled red wine sat happily in your stomachs and shared laughter lit up the room. It's how you ended up with Bradley practically white-knuckling his mug as he watches you cook and fawn over him, sweetly asking him, "Can I top off your coffee, baby?" while you stroke the back of his neck, backing away before he can get his hands on you. 

"Honey," Bradley had moved from his spot, taking a few short strides to stand behind you at the stove. His hands coming to rest on your hips as he drags you back to him, "I can't sit there anymore." 

"No?" you question, your gaze on the cast iron skillet on the burner, the final pancake was cooking away on its shiny black surface as you feigned nonchalance. "What's got you so worked up, Bradshaw?"

Once he heard his last name leave your mouth he knew you were teasing him, and god was he ready to tease you right back. 

"I don't know," he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, "maybe just a pretty little thing making me breakfast," another kiss below your ear, "my girl taking such good care of me," 

Bradley moves his right hand to take the spatula out of your grip, meeting no resistance as you melt into the heat radiating from his naked chest, getting lost in the words coming out of his mouth as you lean into his onslaught of kisses.

"I'll tell you what's got me worked up, baby." 

You feel him inhale deeply behind you, the music playing from the speaker filling up the otherwise quiet room as he deftly flips the pancake on the pan, somehow knowing it was the perfect time to turn it as its golden brown surface shows itself. Soon after his perfect pancake has been flipped, he places the tool down, and using his now free right hand, turns off the stove and the oven, signaling the end of that—kitchen closed. 

Every nerve in your body was lighting up now. You could feel the excitement building in your marrow as he stood calmly behind you. 

"Turn around, and I'll tell you," he whispers in your ear, "lemme see your pretty eyes."

There was no other option but to listen, no choice but to turn around and stare into his lust-filled eyes. 

"So, what is it, Bradshaw?" you practically sigh, turning to him as you try to calm your breathing, willing yourself to fill your lungs slowly before he pushes you over the edge with just his words. 

"It's you," his voice still low as his as he reaches his hand up to brush over your lips. The pad of his thumb swipes back and forth gently over your pouted bottom lip, "it's you in this fucking kitchen looking like a dream. It's you saying my name while you pour me coffee," he pauses briefly, "it's that I know you slept in my sweatshirt last night to drive me fucking crazy this morning." 

"Am I in trouble, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you say coolly despite the blazing inferno ripping through your entire being, despite his finger still resting on the plush of your lip.

Bradley doesn't answer, simply pushes his thumb past your lips and onto your waiting tongue. He loves the way he can make you mush under his touch. But you never let him have the upper hand for long. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut as you gaze up at him, sucking harshly on the digit and wetting it with your eager tongue. He pulls the finger out of your mouth, hand moving to grip your cheeks in a manner that made your panties flood with wetness. Bradley was practically panting — trying so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to spin you around right here and fuck you against the oven.

“Breakfast is gonna have to wait, pretty girl,” he declares, “should have never let you get out of bed this morning.”

After that it's a blur of warm hands grasping for bare skin, a symphony of moaning into open-mouthed kisses and when Bradley moves his hands down your thighs, pulling in a signal you've come to know well, you jump. His capable hands immediately come to your ass as you wrap your legs around his middle. You're nose to nose with him as he walks you back to the bedroom.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, "gonna make you feel so good."

He's dropping you onto the bed before you know it, towering his body over yours to kiss every inch of skin he can touch. He's pushing up your (his) sweatshirt to reveal the soft skin hidden underneath, stopping to bite and lick your exposed breasts, taking extra care of each nipple as he nips and pinches. 

Rooster tosses away the article of clothing, leaving you lying in the morning light in just your underwear. He takes a single step back, leaving you panting on the bed as you stare up at him. He's obviously hard, his pajama shorts tented and hands flexing at his sides as he looks down at the way your almost naked body is being illuminated by the golden light. 

"You look too fucking good," he whispers mostly to himself, "god damn." 

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands coming to wrap underneath your knees as he drags you to the end of the bed, bringing your covered cunt to his waiting mouth. Rooster immediately presses his nose and lips onto the sodden fabric of your panties, his tongue coming out to taste the wetness soaking the cotton. You could come just from this, just from Bradley Bradshaw breathing into your pussy while he presses his perfect nose against your puffy clit. 

"Want me to taste you, honey?" he whispers into your cunt, and you feel like you're burning alive, "cause I wanna taste you real fuckin' bad."

He pulls away from you again, and it really isn't fair that he looks like that right now. His skin is radiant and ethereal, he smells divine and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Before you even have a chance to answer, Rooster is gripping the fabric on your underwear tightly, increasing the friction on your clit. A little tease. Maybe a little mean—or even a little needy. 

"Talk to me, baby," he says, fingers still pulling the fabric taut against your dripping center. 

"Please, Bradley," you whisper desperately, chest heaving as you look down at him. "Need you," you add, yes because you mean it, but also because you know he loves to hear it.  

With that, he is swiftly pulling the soaked panties down your legs, flinging them somewhere to be found later while the two of you laugh and make the bed together.

His palms come back to separate your thighs and you could die. You feel like you're about to plunge into icy cold water—the shock of adrenaline as your body adjusts to the frigid temperature. Warmth overtakes every cell in your body, as you gaze down at him. Bradley is staring directly into your wet pussy with a lust-filled glaze in his pretty eyes. With every inhale and exhale you feel more obscene, more spread open.

"So wet," he observes, his voice deep and gruff "you showin' off for me? Gettin' nice and wet just for me, baby?"

He runs his thumb up and down your slit, taking one pass to tease at your aching clit. His thumb is bringing you a pleasure that is making your back arch off the mattress, it feels like he is taking you apart piece by piece. His face is still so close to your pussy you can feel his breath fanning over you. His warm breath is a sharp contrast to the wetness of your weeping hole. 

"Oh, honey," he coos, as he dips his middle finger into your soaked cunt, "bet you were wet this morning too, huh? But my good girl wanted to treat me to a picture-perfect Sunday, didn't she?"

He wants you to answer, you know this.

"Want you so bad, Bradley," you whimper into your palm, having pressed the side of it between your teeth to keep from yelling out, "want you always. Wanna take care of you all the time."

When his mouth finally comes down, it makes you weep, makes you cry out in a tone you've never heard leave your body. His supple mouth and tongue are bringing you so much comfort as they simultaneously send all-encompassing shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

You’re bucking into his mouth, unashamed in your want for him, unabashed in the way you spread your wetness over his gorgeous face. You bring your hands away from your fluttering chest and gasping mouth to pull his hair, hard. He moans loudly when you do, making your tummy do backflips as he feasts on your cunt. Breakfast be damned. 

"My perfect girl," he whispers against your clit, "tastes so good. Such a sweet pussy."

You groan at his words, reveling in his praise and storing it away to replay at a later time. No one has ever made you feel the way Rooster does, no one has ever been able to make you completely unravel in the way he can. 

"Need you, baby," you whine from your spot on the bed, "need to feel you inside me, please. Please, Bradley."

He pulls back enough for you to see his face—lips shining, mustache obscenely wet and it makes you dizzy just to look at him like this. His hands are still gripping your thighs, his touch burning the area his palms are claiming. 

"Can't wait for me to finish?" he taunts, mocking you as he smiles into your wet cunt.

That's when you move to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows to get better leverage. Wordlessly you slip back away from him, sliding back on the soft sheets to rest your back flat against the headboard. Creating enough distance between the two of you to keep him out of arms reach, the only touch he could lay on you now is a soft graze to your ankle with his fingertips. 

"Come here, Rooster," you say, your sultry tone sounds unfamiliar to you, coated in want and lust, "come and take your pussy, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

A beat passes. You hear him curse under his breath. He's so solid when he comes to stand at the end of the bed. Doesn't take his eyes off yours as he rids himself of his soft shorts. Doesn't make a sound as he palms his erection, stroking the length once, twice, three times before he descends upon you. Once again he's flexing that Navy-earned strength of his to drag your body flush against the mattress. His arms coming to frame your head as he brings his mouth down onto yours, soft and kind, kissing you so sweetly as he leaves the taste of you behind on your tongue. 

"You're gonna be the death of me, baby." he moans into your mouth.

"What a way to go," is all you say before you reach down to rub his cock up and down your wet slit, taking extra care to rub his sensitive tip over your clit driving you both wild in the process. 

He's gripping your wrist tight, halting your movement on his length. His eyes are half-open as they peer into yours, his bottom lip lodged in between his perfect teeth as he places your hand back on the soft sheets below you. 

His plunging inside you so suddenly it pushes all the air out of your lungs. His breath hitches as he settles into the deepest, warmest parts of you—his hands coming up to keep your supple thighs snug around his waist as pleasure rocks through your core. Sometimes he moves so fast you can't keep up, can't keep up with the pillow being shoved under your ass as Bradley strokes deep inside of you. 

“Oh, honey,” he moans, “god that pussy is perfect.” 

Your skin sizzles at his praise, pleasure is working itself down to the very tips of your toes, making you shiver. You're gasping for breath as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you, eyes falling shut as you chase the pleasure he is eliciting from you. Your pussy is clenching around him, he feels so thick and perfect inside you it makes you want to cry. Your hands are gripping the sheets so hard your fingers are cramping. 

"Look at me, pretty baby," he whispers, "let me see my girl."

Your eyes snap open, but your head tilts back with pleasure at his request. You feel so close. You don't know how he gets you teetering over the edge so fast. Maybe it's the husky sound of his voice as he calls you a million different lovely names. Maybe it's the way his tan arms look caging you beneath his body. Or maybe it's the way he gets lost staring in between your bodies. 

Rooster is obsessed with the way he looks sliding in and out of you while you cry out underneath him. But he can never look away too long, always needing to see the look in your eyes as he fucks you in a way that makes you whine and beg for him—makes you desperate for him in his favorite way. He never gets tired of the shock on your face when he whispers filthy words into your ear as he touches parts of you no one ever has. And you hope to god that no one but him ever will again. 

Did Bradley love seeing you act out his domestic fantasies? Of fucking course. The pilot could hardly keep his hands off you most evenings, barely getting the chance to say hello before he was winded at the sight of you floating around the kitchen. Always humming along to a tune he liked — or at least he liked the sound of it coming sweetly from you — before you noticed he was in the room. You were always stirring this, or chopping that. Asking him to taste this for salt or, like most times, you simply said "sit and relax, Rooster, let me take care of you." like you did this morning. He loved the way you took care of him. You did it without pretense or motive. Just did it because you loved to see him loved. You adored doting on Bradley Bradshaw because you knew he deserved it. You knew how he craved it. 

But, for as much as Bradley liked you sweet and delicate in the kitchen, he loved you fucked out and messy more. He went crazy over the way you'd suck his fingers into your mouth while he was fucking you, doing anything just to feel fuller. Loved the way you teased—all half-lidded eyes and parted lips, walking around half-dressed with an innocent smile on your face as you stepped in front of the TV, interrupting whatever college football game he happened to be watching with a simple Hi, Bradshaw. He lived for the chase and would do stupid, dangerous things for the reward. 

“Bradley,” you whisper, and it elicits another moan from him, one that is throaty and deep, "Make me cum, please,"

He wants to keep teasing you, wants to make you wait so badly, wants to make you yell out his name desperately as he edges you. But he can't—not this morning—not when you look so, so pretty laid out underneath him, like a fucking angel, he thinks to himself. 

"I've got you, pretty honey," he leans down to press his chest into yours, relishing in the feeling of your hard nipples pressed into his heated skin, "don't have to do a thing, sweet girl, just feel how deep that cock is inside you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, Bradley," you whine, crying out at the feeling of his shaft hitting parts of you that hurt so goddamn good. Parts of you that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes, made your toes curl and your heart pound out of your chest. 

He's close too, he can never stop talking the closer to release he gets. "That's it, baby, tell me who's making you feel good. Tell me whose cock is gonna make you cum." his words are filthy as he chases his orgasm alongside yours. 

You would tell him anything he wanted to hear right now, confess your deepest darkest secrets if he asked. 

"It's you, Rooster" you moan. "Always you, only you. No one else can fuck me like you Rooster, please. Please." you plead desperately, you're so close to cumming and it's driving you insane, making your skin tingle all over as you stand over the edge waiting to jump. 

Bradley's mind goes blank at your words, he can't do anything but continue to fuck you deeper, soaking in your praise before it shoots straight into his pelvis and grips him tight. 

You hold on to him tightly as you cum, holding him as close as possible as you grind against him, body moving instinctually at this point to chase the most pleasure possible, to milk every last ounce of euphoria you can from him. 

Bradley's own gratification is close, he knew it was the moment he felt your pussy start pulsing around his cock as you came. He was absolutely basking in every little noise coming from as you came undone underneath him, he loved watching you come apart, loved that he was the one doing it. 

"I want it, baby," you preen underneath him, shocking him out of his reverie and snapping his attention to the fucked out expression on your face, "need to feel you cum inside me Bradley, please, baby. Need it so, so bad, honey."

He growls and you know that did it. The deep, raspy noise coming from him as he spills inside you makes you clench down on his shaft, hard. The feeling of your cum soaked pussy clenching around him makes Bradley curse into your ear. Makes him thrust hard into your sensitive hole as he groans out your name.

When you still, the two of you are slick with a fine layer of sweat, bellies moving in tandem as you fight desperately to fill your lungs and steady your heartbeats. 

If there's one thing Bradley loves, it's the afterglow. He could lie on top of you with his cock soft inside your velvet walls for hours. Wouldn't move if he didn't have the unfortunate human need for food and water. On rare occasions, Bradley would be so relaxed post-orgasm, he would doze off on your chest, his breath coming out in gentle puffs over your skin as you pet the top of his head, basking in the sight of him bare and malleable underneath you.  

"I think breakfast might be a little cold, baby," he says with a smile, gazing up at you with a look you could only describe as smitten.

"Shame," you tut, and your hand grips his hair a little tight, nothing that hurt, nothing that no one but a top naval aviator would notice, a little twitch as you considered what to say next. "can I tell you a secret?" you're grinning now too.

"Spill it," his expression is giddy as he waits for your confession. 

"I love doing this with you," you didn't mean to be earnest. You meant to say something witty, something funny. 

But you couldn't, honesty pouring out of you like a tub overflowing with water. Like someone had turned on the faucet and walked away. 

You see his expression soften before he's rolling the two of you over, his eyes never leaving yours as he brings the both of you to lay on your sides, mirroring the position you were in earlier this morning. Hands gripped tightly between each other, chests moving in tandem as you bring your faces impossibly close together. "Me too, baby," he's smiling so sweetly it's making your stomach fill with butterflies "you have no idea."

[wisteriaiswriting]

Mercs as Parents Headcanons

Words: 2379

Jeremy either takes after his mother and is the absolute top tier caretaker, or just like Spy and can’t do shit for you.

He doesn’t even realize how many skills he has picked up from his Ma growing up.

Will spoil you with everything he can get his hands on. (Tries his best to make sure you don’t grow up similarly to how he did.)

Every chance he gets he’ll bring you along to meet his Ma and brothers, so your Grandma and uncles, alongside any cousins that come along.

Really enjoys going on morning jogs with you, but if that isn’t your thing he’ll play some baseball with you.

***

If he was being honest, cooking wasn’t one of his favourite activities. But if and whenever you asked he never minded, actually excited to do this for you. Reminding him of his Ma, which led him to messaging her for recipes to use in the future, helping him for today's breakfast.

Looking many times at the pancake recipe sent over from her, they were basic buttermilk but there were plenty of toppings stashed away. He managed to get a decent pile finished before another merc entered the kitchen, not needing to turn to know who it was.

“THERE'S THE SMELL OF A CLASSIC AMERICAN BREAKFAST!”

“Yeah, yeah, there ya go pal.”

Reaching over to the plate to grab the top pancakes, ignoring the heat to throw them right at Soldier. Who caught them, cramming the first one into his mouth while tearing the other one apart to give to his raccoons. When it was finished the group of them rushed out, leaving Scout and you together again.

Within minutes the rest of the batter was cooked, the stack of pancakes were separated onto two plates. Sliding them across the table, meaning you had to grab both so they wouldn’t go sliding off. While he dug through the pantry, grabbing any types of syrups and toppings he could find.

Walking back over to you and letting everything drop onto the table, sitting down himself before reaching for the sugar.

“Eat up, don’t want any of ‘em going to waste. Ma would’a whooped any of us kids for wastin’ that!”

Guess you’re American now. Solly will not listen, and doesn’t really care what you say about it.

Keep him away from the kitchen, he cannot make the simplest of meals that are not MRE’s.

Just because he gave you the title of Sergeant doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on you in training, if anything he has you train harder.

Is very quick to get you ‘matching’ uniforms. (He claims it’s a Sergeant’s uniform but there’s really no difference.)

Will gladly get you your own raccoon. (Likely you’ll have to name it as he’ll give it the dumbest and most American name.)

***

The lot of you had just finished eatting dinner, allowing everyone to go off and do whatever they wanted. Which meant Soldier had gone somewhere doing something, either way at the moment you didn’t care what he was doing.

Until a loud, constant knocking started on your door, continuing ‘til you opened the door, finding the very man standing there all proud. In his, now scratched up and bleeding arms was a very unhappy raccoon. It was throwing itself around, screaming or whatever noise raccoons made.

Lieutenant Bites scampered around his feet, screeching back at the one in his arms before rushing into your room.

“SERGEANT, MEET THE NEWEST RECRUIT, UH… What's your name?”

His shouting quieted down for a few seconds to ask it, not that it’ll actually answer him. Only letting go when he noticed something in its mouth, holding it closer to find a finger. Confused until you shouted at him.

“SOLLY, IT BIT OFF YOUR FINGER!”

“OH!”

Not caring as the raccoon ran off into your room as well, rushing to grab the finger and bring him all the way to Medic.

No one is really sure who is caring for who at this point, and you don’t think the two of you know either.

They’re constantly dedicating and giving you drawings and plushies whenever you need them or even just when they feel like it.

Very often visits Engineer about anything and everything really, not that he ever minds the company. (Engineer feels like a very proud grandpa everytime Pyro comes by.)

It’s much easier and better if Pyro doesn’t cook, although they can make any easy to eat / make meals, so you won't ever starve.

If anyone ever tries to mess with you, they’ll have to go through Pyro first.

***

Pyro wanted to colour with someone, and with Engineer busy they wandered around to find you. Their first stop was your room, but with no luck finding you they walked around until they reached the living area. About to launch themselves over when they noticed how you were sitting, hunched over with your head dropped into your hands.

A few seconds passed before they moved again, rushing out of the room all the way back to their own. Grabbing one of their many plushies before returning, slowly approaching you. The familiar sight of Pyro didn’t phase you, nor did them sitting next to you.

What did surprise you was a plushie pushed into your arms.

The soft animal shouldn’t have brought you to tears but it did, wrapping your arms around it while holding it closer to you. Pyro had already placed their colouring book and supplies down, quickly wrapping their arms around you to pull you closer. You felt the cold material of their mask gently sit on your head as a faint, muffled hum could be heard.

He knows he isn’t the ‘parently’ type of man, it definitely didn’t help that everyone else said the same thing.

If you don’t like him drinking he’ll try to slow down, he really does and means well, but considering him and his body it’s quite hard to do.

Whether you ask him or not, at some point he’ll start going on about anything that comes to his mind, which can range from simple Scottish myths and legends to past situations he’s been in.

Is quite reluctant to let you meet his mother at all. (Even if she bullies him, she knows him well. Realizing how much he cares for you, so she cuts you some slack, not Demo though.)

He doesn’t care one bit about where you’re from or what language you speak, he will teach you some Scottish slang, and even some of the language itself.

***

You weren’t sure if the timing of your death was good or not, but either way it meant you didn’t have to walk all the way back to base. Able to have all your weapons and other accessories put away before any of the others returned, expecting Scout to come rushing through the door.

Finding out why when the door opened, seeing Demo slumped on his shoulder, arm thrown aross Scout. Eagerly chatting away while the younger merc barely spoke back, until he saw you.

“Y/N, back already?”

At your name Demo stood on his own, only for a few seconds though, collapsing onto you while using his empty hand to ruffle your hair.

“Y/N, laddie! Did I ever finish tellin’ ye about the…” Taking a quick drink of his scrumpy, “The selkie I ran into, a bit ago?”

Out of all the mercs he actually knows the most due to caring for his sisters.

There are times he will baby you, so you’ll need to let him know when it’s going too far so he backs off.

Most nights, if not all, are spent with him reading you books and reciting russian legends. (If you don’t understand Russian, he’ll spend time trying to translate them for you.)

If he ever finds out you aren’t eating properly he’ll spend hours cooking meals for you everyday if needed. (Proudly makes his mother’s recipes.)

He’s another person who keeps a close eye on your during battles, and tries to keep you near him and Medic.

***

The room was filled with the smell of cooked meat and vegetables, you sat at the dining table while Heavy stood in the kitchen. Soon a bowl was placed infront of you before he walked away again, it was a clear liquid with chopped up meat,

“That is Ukha, soup with fish.” Looking up at him, still waiting for the oven to finish. “This is Shashlik,” When it finally did finish he pulled the tray out, dumping the meat onto two plates. “Meat served on sticks.”

“They’re not on sticks though?”

Laughing at your words, placing the full plates on the table before opening a box next to him, pulling out said sticks.

“Here, sent all the way from Siberia.” Taking the plates to stab multiple bits of meat onto them, sliding the finished meal over to you when he was done. “As I work, eat, you need to grow stronger.”

Dell is probably the best parental figure out of the nine of them.

He gives you all the petnames he can think of. (Alongside Pyro, who has become your new sibling.)

Allows you two to sit and spend time in his workshop while he’s working, but gave you special permission to stay in there without him. (Which is a huge privilege only given to one other person.)

He puts anything of yours at the top of his priority list.

Tries to keep a close eye on you during any fights, if possible he keeps you close to him or his sentry.

Lil extra here - He has given you and Pyro kinda matching petnames. You’re ‘Sugar’ while Pyro is ‘Honey.’

***

Dell was busy working on his next project, which neither you or Pyro currently cared about. Both of you were focused on your drawing, spending nearly half an hour switching colours, even starting over once before finally finishing.

Clapping their hands after standing up, you added your final details as Pyro caught Dell’s attention.

“What’s up Honey?” Pointing back to you as you walked over, holding the paper behind your back. “Sugar?”

Swiftly placing it into his hands, unable to see much of his reaction has his goggles covered his eyes. Soon after he pulled them off, letting you both see his teary eyes.

“Aren’t you two sweet as pie…” All three of you knew how sweet you were, considering your petnames. “C’mere…”

Welcoming you both over into his embrace, carefully placing the drawing safely behind him on his desk.

Special dove privileges, you swear he might also be one with the amount of time he spends cooing over you.

He takes extra care during your surgeries, promising not to mess with anything he doesn’t need to.

Speaking of surgeries, if you ever feel like assisting him in any he will gladly welcome you. (The others are kinda scared though.)

You and Heavy are at the top of his priority list, on and off the battlefield.

He is a massive hypocrite, because if you dare mess one meal he will be on your ass about it.

***

While he was focused on some work, Archimedes had managed to slip out of the infirmary. Not realizing until hours later, when calling out didn’t reveal the bird he rushed around trying to find her.

Eventually he realized she must’ve left the room so he had to go searching, and luckily he didn’t need to search for long. Turning a corner and nearly running into you,

“Ah, Y/N, zere is a small problem…”

“Missing Archimedes?” Holding out your arms as you spoke, “Cause she came looking for me.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the sight.

“Aren’t you two just adorable!”

It is petnames galore! At first he might seem embarrassed but quickly embraces them. (Main ones are Roo, Joey, Chick and just adding lil onto them.)

He actually had good (adoptive) parents, so he knows how to do most things.

Doesn’t mean to, but he’s a slight helicopter parent. Keeps you in his scope and all around view.

Will give you a key and free access to his camper van.

***

This man is another massive hypocrite, he makes sure you’re getting enough sleep, eating well and staying healthy. (If you bother him back enough, he will do the same alongside you.)

It wasn’t new to not see Sniper having meals with the team, opting to spend that time in his camper. So he normally came by before it started, but today he was a bit behind. Walking into the room towards the counter, grabbing his plate before making his way back out.

Walking behind you, lightly patting your head.

“Come on, Roo.”

He didn’t wait for you, walking out as you scrambled to grab everything. Finding him standing at the main door to go outside, continuing when you reached him. The walk to his camper was quick but it was a comfortable silence.

Which was cut short when you both got comfortable inside, filling the air with laughter and conversation.

You should feel lucky that Scout isn’t aware of the relation between him and Spy, otherwise there would be a real one sided competition.

Please give him a break, he’s old and is nowhere near good at parental things.

Constantly leaving you all types of gifts in your room whenever you either mention wanting something, or he thinks you might enjoy it.

Gives you every petname he can think of (English and French), and at this point you think he might’ve forgotten your name.

He definitely tries to teach you french, praising you if you pick it up quickly while holding conversations.

***

“Qu'est-ce que j'ai dit sur le fait de surveiller ses arrières?”

"Qu'il faut toujours être sur ses gardes..."

Spy was cut off by the sound of the door opening, looking over to find Scout standing in the doorway. He was clearly unprepared to find Spy in here, willingly talking to you much less.

“What's uh, going on here?”

"Nous pouvons dire qui est le meilleur enfant."

It took you a minute to realize what he was saying, and with a smug look from him it clicked. Sending you into a full blown laughter, while Scout was confused.

“What’s wrong with you two?”

***

"What did I say about watching your back?"

"You always have to be on your guard..."

"We can tell who the best child is."

[takenbypeter]

Pancakes and Whipped Cream

Hank McCoy x reader

Words: 445

Number 23: “Wait...are you making pancakes? Can I help?" (He seems like the type of person who cooks)

Requested by anonymous in my asks, sorry for taking so long to answer

Hank was a man of many qualities. He was smart, he was funny, he was attractive, he was a wonderful boyfriend. Simply when you thought he could not get any better, he did.

As usual he’s spent the past night in his lab. You didn’t mind, you knew he was a busy man with something always running through that intelligent brain of his.

So like most nights you paid him a final visit for the day and with a small kiss you bid him goodnight, reminding him not to stay up too late, which of course he never listened to.

And just like that you fell asleep alone. Most of the time when you woke up the next morning Hank was there beside you, but this morning you woke up just as you had fallen asleep, alone.

But unlike most mornings, you smelled something. Something yummy. With a quick morning stretch you set off towards the kitchen where of course the smell originated from.

In that kitchen was the culprit, Hank who was standing towards the stove with a frying pan in hand and a plate full of fluffy pancakes beside him.

“Wait…are you making pancakes? What world am I living in?”

“Ha-ha,” he gave a dry laugh to your tease.

You grin, pulling up a stool, “can I help?”

“Absolutely not. This is for you!”

“So what? I can’t help?”

“No.”

You slouched in your seat now bored with having nothing to do.

“I’m practically done anyway,” he said as he placed what seems to be the last pancake on the stack. You quickly grab some plates and syrup and put them on the small table close by.

Hank sets some pancakes on your plate and then his before putting the rest back on the counter.

You pour some syrup to cover the fluffy breakfast and right when you’re about to dig in, Hank stops you.

He gets up and quickly grabs a can of whipped cream from the fridge before spraying it on your pancakes.

“I know this doesn’t make up for the nights that you spend alone…” he sprayed his own pancakes with the whipped cream before setting it down.

So that’s what this was about.

Even though you would tell him you didn’t mind his work time and time again, he still seemed to have a guilty feeling about it.

All you could do was shake your head at his words, “that’s okay this can be a start,” you tease waving a forkful of pancakes and whipped cream before tossing it into your mouth, happy enough.

Hank didn’t know how but he was going to make it up to you, someway.

-

Dialogue Prompt #2

[harleehazbinfics]

Chapter 2: Dear Baby, kindness will take you a million miles.

Dear baby, m.list | Author Profile

A/n: Chapter 2 yaaaay, i got fully immersed for this one hehehe Word Count: 1842

You wake up to your feather all sticking out in different directions and drool on the side of your beak. You stretched carefully with a loud yawn before closing your mouth in embarrassment from your unladylike behavior. You then try to straighten out your feathers and failing, making you huff. Your borrowed dress trains after you as you approached the vanity seeing your figure.

You were tall like most of the Goetia and was gifted features of an owl, you had tan feathers that almost look golden in the light. Your hair was the same, framing your body beautifully. You trace your talons across your cheek and sighed.

“If we’re starting a new life, we got to make the most of it now. Isn’t that right, darling?”  you laugh drily petting your tummy and stood tall. Your magic envelops you as your slowly turned into a human form.

Your human form wasn’t starkly different from your normal form. Just your hair, hands and legs turning more human like. This way, no one would ever notice you were ever part of the Goetia immediately.

After taking a bath, changing to new clothes. You followed the smell of pancakes down the hall. There you see Lucifer cooking breakfast in the kitchen with a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. You held back a laugh as you approached the kitchen island listening to him a hum a lively tune.

“Good morning, your majesty,” you greet him with a smile.

“Good morning!” he replies cheerfully before noticing his pancake burning, “Uh oh!”

He hastily plates the remaining pancakes and serves you the pancakes that had no burnt spots. You blush at his gesture and thank him quietly while picking up your utensils carefully and carefully cut the fluffy pancakes.

“Do you have any plans today, your majesty?” you ask him cautiously.

He chews and think with a hum before answering, “I might do some paperwork today. I’ve been holding off work for a while. I’m sure they’re all piled up by now.”

At the sound of the word papers, you perked up and replied, “Can I help you with them? I’m quite familiar with organizing and cataloguing. I-if that’s too much to ask, you can ignore me. I apologize.”

He furrows his eyebrows at your dejected look and huffs with a smile. Being in a quite unfamiliar place must be stressful for you, having him help you might do you some good and familiarize yourself with the structure of the city and at the same time keep your mind off things. Besides, you were part of the Goetia, you were more or less acquainted with the working of earth and how they reported to him.

“Of course, I don’t see why not you can’t,” he answers with a grin, easing you of your worries.

Your bright smile douses his broken heart with a calm he hasn’t felt in a while.

After breakfast, he takes you to his office. He wasn’t lying when he said it had piled up. Several towers of paper lined up from his table about waist high. However, the air here was heavy and stuffy. Lucifer rushes for the blinds and pushes open the windows.

“Sorry. I haven’t been here for a while,” Lucifer excuses with an apologetic smile as he uses his magic to immediately clean the room and pick up any stray pieces of paper from the ground and onto the nearest stack.

“It’s fine, your majesty. I don’t mind,” you assure him as you approached the stack of paper closest to you, “Should I start from here?”

“If you could. Just tell me if you feel tired. I’d hate to push you to work,” he answers while fretting over you which you found heartwarming to be cared for by this man.

You gave him a nod in appreciation. With his permission, you carried a good stack of papers and placed them on the coffee table by the couch and began your work.

Most of them were reports on the death counts for yearly exterminations and other communication letters from Heaven which were, not so friendly, a few being specifically addressed from an ADAM with rock sign on it.

There were also a few reports coming in from the different layers of hell. Yearly report on income, crime rates, destroyed buildings and a few notes on some disputes between the rulers of each ring.

It wasn’t boggling when you received the financial statements from the Greed Ring. Several of these assets were probably laundered or just manipulated in their favor with how unproportional their expenses were to the rest of their accounts.

Your movements come to a stop when you saw a familiar handwriting. With a heavy heart, you read your father’s name under his report on Earth about life of humans from impoverished areas. It made you smile sadly at how this was what your father reported on. He truly did have a soft-hearted soul. It made you wonder how your family was, after leaving the castle you didn’t send them any letters on where you were. The thought squeezed you heart from the guilt and grief of being away from your family for such a long time.

As if sensing your plummeted mood, a little duckie appeared in your desk with a little quack. You touched it with your finger before picking it up and squeezing it. Earning yourself an energetic wenk. You giggle under your breath and look at Lucifer, who looked right back with a worried look. You responded with a confident smile before returning to your work.

Days and weeks pass the same after that. Until eventually all the remaining reports only amounted to a reasonable stack on his desk. The other files were already sent away for review and auditing.

With a big stretch, you relieve yourself from the strain of sitting for days on end. You felt relieved and satisfied after completing your work. And just after a good work is done, Lucifer came into the office bringing in a tray of tea and pastries.

Your eyes gleamed in delight at the sight. You were now an avid fan of Lucifer’s baking and cooking skills, it as if he were gifted the hands of a culinary god. You took a bite of a scone before taking a sip of the tea he also brewed. The refreshing combo was truly phenomenal.

“I don’t think I can stress this enough, your majesty! You’re quite skilled in the kitchen!” you complemented him,

You were radiating with happiness that Lucifer couldn’t help but feel bashful to. It has been quite a long time since someone had complemented him for any of his skills. It felt invigorating to say the least.

“Thank you for your compliments. Truth be told, I was quite nervous to show off my cooking skills to you. I was afraid that it wouldn’t end up well,” he replies recalling his burnt pancake during your first morning here.

You giggled and answered, “I feel honored for the king of hell to worry about my palate. I must apologize however, I didn’t mean for you to be so troubled because of me.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize. I just wanted you to have a good experience while you were here,” he explains scratching his nape.

You gave him a grateful smile then replying, “Thank you. I am having a fun time here. I quite like the view from the rooftop. Though, I do miss the stars I suppose one can be amused by the chaos that happens in sinners’ day to day.”

He laughs awkwardly like an embarrassed teen mom being scrutinized for her rowdy kids. Since sinners were his subjects, he can’t help but feel responsible for their actions as though they represent him. Of course it wasn’t his fault.

“I’ve seen portraits of her everywhere. Is she your daughter?” you ask, changing the subject and motioning to the toddler in the family portrait.

He beams a proud smile and answers, “Yeah, she is. Her name’s Charlie.”

“You look so much alike,” you reply, “Where is she?”

“Ah, she’s with her mother. She took Charlie with her after we split,” he explains giving a longing look of their family portrait.

It made your heart squeeze thinking about how this man was missing his daughter so badly. He doesn’t seem to talk much about his wife, neither does he tell unpleasant stories about his wife. You guessed it was a reluctant parting, hoping they could fix it somehow.

“Do you still see her? Charlie?” you ask once again.

“Not for a while. It’s been 8 months since I’ve seen her,” he sighs imagining how his little princess would be right now.

“If it’s too presumptuous of me. I think you should call her. I’m sure she’s missing her dad,” you suggested cautiously.

His eyebrows merely furrowed, and his frown deepened, “What if she doesn’t? I haven’t seen her for such a long time. I don’t want her to hate me.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He gazes into your eyes that shook from imagining scenarios in his head by himself.

“Just give her a call. I’m sure your wife will understand. It’s for your daughter after all,” you reasoned with him.

He releases a deep sigh and solemnly nods his head. He missed Charlie, and as much as it pained him to talk to Lilith again. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his daughter. So, he walked towards his desk and picks up his telephone.

“I’ll leave the room to you, your majesty. Call for me if you need anything,” you say as your stood up heaving your rounded stomach.

“Actually, (Y/n)? Could you... could you stay?” he whispers with much anxiety.

You looked at him surprised and asked once again for confirmation if he was sure about his decision for him to nod his head. Offering his hand for you to hold as he tries to face his fears. You took his hand and gave him an encouraging squeeze.

He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath before dialing the number he has memorized like the back his hand. You absent-mindedly held his hand as he did his business. The family portrait of 3 staring back at you made you feel queasy, did you overstep your boundary here? You were just a guest, but you wanted Lucifer to be happy with the family you’ve been longing for.

“Great! Saturday at 10, yeah?... Thanks for the time, Lilith,” he breathes out strained, however instead of replying she turned off the call.

After putting the phone down he pumps his fist in the air and yells, “YEAH! I’m going to see my daughter this Saturday~”

You laugh at his little song, you tinkling laugh catches his attention. Giving you a soft warm smile and thanking you, “Thank you, (y/n). I wouldn’t have mustered the courage without you.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for taking the chance,” you reply nudging his shoulder.

🔗Dear Baby Taglist:

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