#look ma i wrote a little something

[lupinqs]

p being an annoying talkative fuck during sex LOL

TALKING TOO MUCH ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige is too damn talkative during sex

☆ ━ word count: 1.8K

☆ ━ warnings: smut!!!!!!! (strap, r receiving) just porn absolutely no plot

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: i wrote this in like 10 minutes sorry if it’s shit lol

AS THE ROOM grows hotter with each passing second, the dim lighting casting long, intimate shadows across the bed, Paige’s body moves in time with yours, your breaths mingling. The weight of Paige against you, the rhythm of her hips, the heat building between you—it’s all you can focus on at first. Paige’s slow, steady thrusts drive you closer and closer to that precipice, each motion precise, purposeful.

But then Paige starts talking.

At first, it isn’t too much—just small murmurs of praise, things like “you feel so good” or “God, I love you.” Words that you’d usually melt over, but tonight, Paige isn’t stopping. Her words come faster, more incessant, and you find yourself struggling to focus. Paige’s voice, usually low and breathless and sinful, fills the space between you, but it’s becoming more of distraction than an enhancement.

“You like that?” Paige asks, her voice breathy but insistent, leaning down to kiss the edge of your jaw between words. “Fuck, mama, you’ve never looked hotter. Seriously. Look so good under me like this. Love seein’ it. D’you want it slower or—?”

“Paige…” Your breath hitches, not from the pleasure but from the interruption. You can feel Paige’s body continuing to move against yours, her strap going in and out of you, but the steady flow of words keep pulling your attention away from the sensation.

Paige presses her lips to your ear, her voice softer now, but still just as persistent. “I just—you’re so perfect, baby. So perfect for me. Can you feel how deep—?”

You let out a soft, exasperated noise, your head tipping back against the pillow as you try to regain your focus, the pleasure that’s been building actually starting to ebb away as Paige keeps on fucking yapping.

Genuinely, you wonder if she has ADHD or something.

“Paige…” you whisper again, a little more firmly this time, trying to guide the blonde back to the moment, back to the your bodies move so perfectly together.

But Paige doesn’t seem to notice. “I—fuck—I love how you feel, ma. It’s just—God, it’s so good, yeah? You’re incredible. Fucking incredible, baby. I could do this all fuckin’ night, seriously, just—”

You can’t take it anymore.

With a quick motion, you reach up and press a hand to Paige’s lips, your fingers gently silencing her mid-sentence. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, her body stilling for just a moment as she looks down at you, confused.

“Shh,” you murmur, slow but firm, your eyes locking onto Paige’s with an almost amused frustration. Your lips quirk upwards slightly. “Baby, you’re talking too much.”

Paige’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, her lips still caught beneath your hand, but there’s a playful gleam in her eyes, as if she didn’t even realize what she’s been doing.

You don’t give her a chance to respond—or to start talking again. Instead, you pull her face down toward yours, capturing Paige’s lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s deep, slow, and you pour everything you have into it, hoping to redirect Paige’s energy. Your hand slides from the blonde’s lips to the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, deepening the kiss until all you can feel is Paige—her warmth, her breath, the soft moan that escapes her as your tongue slips into her mouth.

Paige seems to get the message.

Her body starts moving again, her hips resuming their slow, deliberate rhythm, but this time, her words are replaced by soft, breathy sounds, the two of you finally beginning to sync. The tension returns, the heat between you rising again, and your focus narrows back to the feeling of Paige moving inside you, the way your bodies are pressed so tightly together, every inch of your skin tingling from the closeness.

Paige pulls back from the kiss just slightly, her lips hovering over yours as she whispers, “Sorry.” Her breath is warm against your mouth, but this time, there’s no rush to speak, just the soft murmur of apology, followed by another kiss, slower, deeper.

You smile against her lips, your frustration melting away as the familiar heat builds within your stomach. You pull Paige closer, your hips moving in perfect sync with here, no more words, no more interruptions. Just the steady rise and fall of breaths, the press of the strap within you, the warmth of Paige’s skin against yours.

This is what you needed tonight—quiet, intimate, just the two of you lost in the moment together. Paige, finally quiet, lets her body do the talking, her movements speaking louder than any words could. Every thrust is slow but purposeful, every kiss a promise, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into the sensation, your body trembling as Paige brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Better?” Paige whispers after a long moment, her voice softer now, almost teasing as she pulls back just enough to catch your gaze.

You let out a breathless laugh, nodding as you tighten your grip on Paige’s shoulders, pulling her back down for another kiss, unable to form words through the gaze of pleasure building.

The blonde’s hips begin to pick up their pace, the rhythm of her thrusts growing faster and deeper. Your breath quickens, chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. One of your hands falls from Paige’s shoulder to the mattress, your fingers digging into the sheets, gripping tightly.

“Fuck, P,” you gasp out, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel her pinch your hip a little, and it makes your gaze flutter back, locking onto hers, and she’s got this look in her eye that has your nails curling into her shoulder harshly.

Your breath catches as Paige’s next thrust hits deeper, the sound squelching, meeting that perfect spot right inside you. “Mm, so good,” you murmur to her, hand moving from her shoulder to her hair, tugging slightly. “Feels so good… keep doin’ that.”

Paige’s lips brush against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she kisses her way down the curve of your throat. The soft, wet press of Paige’s mouth against your pulse makes your heart race even faster, the heat in your belly growing more intense with every second. You throw your head back slightly, hair splayed out across the pillow, as a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Yes, like that,” you gasp, body arching up against Paige’s. “Fuck.”

Paige pulls back just enough to look down at you, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glint with amusement and something darker, more teasing. She’s covered in sweat, and she gleams all fucking over. “Who’s the talkative one now, huh?” she whispers, voice low and goading.

Your head snaps forward, eyes narrowing as you shoot Paige a look that’s equal parts frustration and desire. “Shut up,” you whine, the words laced with a mix of need and exasperation. But they’re barely out of your mouth before Paige’s hips move again thrusting hard, and you let out a louder, desperate moan.

Paige’s smirk only deepen, and she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t ease up. She thrusts agin, then again, her damned purple strap hitting that same perfect spot inside you with precision, over and fucking over. Your entire body tenses, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you let out another sharp cry of pleasure.

“God, right there,” you whimper, voice shaking. “Please, P, don’t stop.”

Paige’s lips find your neck again, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She thrusts harder now, her body pressing you deeper into the mattress with each movement, her breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your skin.

You can feel the tension building within you, your muscles tightening, your breath growing more erratic as Paige continues to slam her hips into yours, unrelenting, perfect. The pleasure could tighter and tighter in your abdomen, ready to snap at any second.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your voice is barely more than a breathy whimper now, your hips lifting to meet Paige’s every movement, chasing that overwhelming, all-consuming release that’s just out of reach.

Paige pulls away just enough to look right in your eyes, her breath heavy, chest heaving, her lips swollen from the kisses. She rolls her hips again, watching your face contort in pleasure, your body trembling beneath her. A little noise escapes the back of her throat at the wet sound of her strap deep within your pussy.

“You close?” she asks roughly.

You can only nod, your mouth falling open in a soundless moan as Paige hits that spot again, harder this time, sending a shockwave through your entire body.

“Shit, ma,” Paige groans, her words returning as your climax approaches—she always talks the most when you’re about to cum. Her hand holds your hip down as her movements speed up, and the sound of her skin slapping against yours, the squelching of your soaking cunt—it’s overwhelming. “Listen to that. Tellin’ me to be quiet when that pussy screamin’ for me. Screamin’ for my dick. C’mon, now, baby.”

It’s true. The noises resounding from your lower half are loud and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucked out. And it only gets more obscene when her fingers find your clit, rubbing it in quick, sure circles.

“Cum for me, mama,” Paige murmurs, voice soft but commanding as she leans down to kiss your parted lips. “Cum all fuckin’ over me. Needa feel that sweet shit.”

That’s all it takes. Your body arches up off the bed, your back bowing as the pleasure finally snaps, sending you spiraling into a release so intense it leaves you shaking. Your nails dig into the back of Paige’s neck, tugging at her hair, eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of euphoria washes over you, your entire body trembling beneath Paige’s.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down riding out your orgasm with steady, deep thrusts, her mouth pressed to your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

When the last of the tremors finally subsides, you collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Paige slows her movements, pulling out gently before rolling onto her side next to you. She slips out of the strap before propping herself up on an elbow as she looks down at you, a soft, smug smile playing at the edges of her lips.

“You good?” she asks tenderly, trailing her fingers soothingly along your arm.

You nod, still trying to calm your breathing, your body feeling deliciously spent. You turn your head to meet Paige’s gaze, lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile.

“Yeah… just… shut up next time,” you tease, your voice breathy but full of warmth.

Paige chuckles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, her fingers brushing lightly through your damp hair. “I’ll try,” she whispers against your skin, lips lingering.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'm addicted to the ' if only '

♡ a/n — for a new childhood friends to lovers series :) a little shorter than i wanted but yk

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, sae and reader are the " sit by this quiet kid so they rub off on you " kids i fear, mentions of sae going to spain, starts when they're in 5th grade ( does japan do elementary grades like that? idk. ) and goes all the way to the U-20 game, wrote this at midnight so sorry if it's confusing

♡ synopsis — From the moment Sae Itoshi said he loved you, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough. He was all you needed after all.

You met Sae Itoshi when you were ten, in the fifth grade. You were the loud one, always raising your hand to answer questions, always running up to classmates to start games during recess. Sae, on the other hand, was quiet. His answers were sharp, direct, and to the point. He preferred to sit at the edge of the classroom, observing rather than participating.

When the teacher paired the two of you together for a science project, you knew immediately that this was going to be difficult.

"Can’t you just sit still for five minutes?" Sae asked, an exasperated edge to his voice as you twirled around with the sheet of paper that was supposed to outline your project plan.

"Nope!" you said with a grin. "Sitting still is boring."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re impossible."

You should’ve hated him. He made it clear he found you irritating, and you had no interest in someone who acted like they were better than everyone else. But there was something about Sae that intrigued you—maybe it was the calmness that always seemed to settle around him, or the way he never tried to impress anyone.

To your surprise, by the time the project ended, he hadn’t abandoned you. Instead, he’d begrudgingly started helping you organize your thoughts, muttering under his breath every time you got distracted but staying by your side nonetheless.

Halfway through the school year, he stopped rolling his eyes when you dragged him outside to play soccer after school.

By the end of the year, you were spending every recess together. You teased him endlessly, calling him your best friend, even though he would only shrug in response.

But he never corrected you.

It wasn’t until you were twelve that you realized how much Sae had become a part of your life.

He wasn’t just your best friend—he was your favorite person. He was there for everything, from the boring group projects to the secret candy stash you shared during recess. He wasn’t just the quiet boy in the corner anymore. He was Sae, the person who made your days brighter without even trying.

One day, when you were both at the park, it hit you.

He was practicing soccer, as always. The golden light of the setting sun bathed his figure, making him look almost ethereal. He didn’t notice the way you were staring, too focused on juggling the ball with practiced ease.

You didn’t understand it then, but something inside you shifted. You found yourself watching him more closely, noticing the way his expression softened when he talked about soccer, the way he always let you have the last piece of candy, even though he’d complain about it afterward.

You liked him.

The realization was terrifying, but you pushed it down. Sae was your best friend, and you didn’t want to ruin that.

When Sae told you he’d been scouted to train in Spain, you didn’t know how to react.

You were happy for him—of course you were. Soccer was his dream, and this was everything he had ever wanted. But as you stood in the airport, watching him get ready to board his flight, all you could think about was how much you were going to miss him.

"Don’t cry," he said, his voice steady. He stood in front of you, his suitcase at his side, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked so calm, so sure of himself, that it almost made you angry.

"I’m not crying," you lied, blinking furiously.

Sae’s gaze softened, just for a moment. "You’ll be fine without me," he said. "You always are."

But you weren’t.

High school was different without Sae.

The loud, hyper child you used to be was gone, replaced by someone quieter, someone who didn’t raise their hand as much in class or run around during lunch breaks. The hole Sae left behind was too big to fill, and you didn’t know how to be yourself without him by your side.

But at night, when your phone buzzed with his Facetime calls, everything felt okay again.

When you were fifteen, one of those calls changed everything.

You were sitting on your bed, rambling about your day, filling the silence with every little detail you could think of. Sae’s face on the screen was calm, as always, but there was something different about his expression.

"I love you," he said suddenly, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Your heart stopped.

"What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you," he repeated, his tone steady, like he had been waiting to say it for a long time. "I’ve loved you for a while."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "I love you too," you said, your voice trembling.

From that moment on, you were his. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy, but it didn’t matter. You had Sae, and that was enough.

When you were seventeen, everything started to fall apart.

Sae’s texts became shorter, his calls less frequent. You told yourself it was because he was busy—Spain was demanding, and soccer always came first for him. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

One night, he called you.

You were so excited to hear from him that you didn’t notice the tension in his voice. You launched into your day, telling him about school, your friends, everything he had missed. He stayed silent until you finally asked, "Sae? Are you still there?"

"I’m here," he said. His tone was cold, unfamiliar. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted. "What is it?"

"You’re a bother," he said, his voice flat. "We should break up."

The words didn’t register at first.

"What?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "Sae, what are you talking about?"

"You’re holding me back," he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. "I don’t have time for this anymore."

And just like that, the boy you'd grown to love - your best friend - was gone.

A year later, Sae returned to Japan for the U-20 vs. Blue Lock match.

You hadn’t heard from him since the breakup. Not a single text, not a single call. But even after everything, you couldn’t help but hope. He was still your best friend… right?

You looked for him everywhere—in the streets you used to walk together, in the soccer fields where he used to practice. But he was never there.

The night of the game, you sat alone in your room, watching him on the TV.

He was brilliant. Every move, every goal, was flawless. The Sae on the screen was a stranger, a far cry from the boy who used to roll his eyes at your jokes and share his candy with you.

It doesn’t feel right, you thought, not knowing the Sae that’s out there, shining so brightly.

And maybe, you realized, you never would.

no one said all of these had to be happy. childhood best friends to lovers to strangers anyone ?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still). But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left hand gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if days became difficult and nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and jus' fell asleep for a minute."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, peach. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound is endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. But you laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so she can go to a good college.” You joke. But Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. “Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new lil’ ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it is still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[thewriterg]

mr and mrs ‘let me do it’

A/n; I haven’t wrote for marvel in so long… anyhow, headcanons because I can and I want to

warning(s): both miles are stubborn in their own ways, mrs independent woman reader, slithers of mama Rio, a little bickering, mentions of social norms, pet names, rusty spanish, and language l

earth 1610 miles! who’s love language is acts of service, —as well as physical touch— in which it literally makes him go insane when you don’t let him do something for you. drastic or mundane you volunteer yourself everytime and he hates it

earth 1610 miles! who has to learn to somewhat bully his way into doing things for you… you guys sitting together during lunch and you forgot to get utensils? before you can even swing your leg over the bench of the cafeteria table he’s already up walking back to the cart that carries condiments, napkins, plastic packaged utensils and things of the sort

earth 1610 miles! where you both turn it into a little competition on who can help the other one more. you ask him to hold your phone so you can tie your shoe? that’s cute, meanwhile he fully gets down on one knee and ties them for you. Oh, his dorm is messy and he can’t find his notes he needed to finish over the weekend back home? meanwhile, your in your own room copying down what you you wrote from your notes filled with scribblings of words onto his semi empty notebook.

earth 1610 miles! who likes to do something to make your life a little easier no matter how big or small. your about to have a study session and you ran to the bathroom? guess who taking all the text books and notes out of your bag so you don’t have to rummage thought it? Well miles of course :)

earth 1610 miles! who loves you because you think about him and your actions really show it. he had to patrol and couldn’t watch the new episode of his favorite super hero, guess who recorded the who thing start to finish so he could watch it in his down time?

earth 1610 miles! who is in a healthy happy competition of completing services for one another with you because “Te amo aunque seas terco, mi vida.”

ミ★ミ★ミ★

earth 42 miles! who is quite literally wont take no for an answer. it got to a point where he would just start doing things for you instead of asking. you look like you’re carrying too many bags on your mini splurge at the mall? welp now you’re carrying NOTHING.

earth 42 miles! where you both grew up around the social norm of ‘the man should pay for dates with a woman’ and rather he knew it or not, miles subconsciously adapted it into his life. you on the other hand couldn’t call bull shit fast enough to save your life. however, while miles really did value your core beliefs he couldn’t really be bothered to break the habit. he wasn’t wealthy per say, but he had enough to simultaneously spoil you with things as well as help his mom with necessities.

earth 42 miles! who mutters a “watch out ma” when you even try and reach for your purse to pay for ANYTHING. total of $8.67 at the bodega trying to get snacks for your movie night? “I got it.” total of $78.92 after having appetizers, meals, and dessert? “I got it.” $250 to go get some self care done “I got it.”

earth 42 miles! that gets you so frustrated that you guys start to have petty arguments that mama Rio doesn’t stand for. yes you’re lovers, but she will still make you hug in the oversized, OVERSIZED, tshirt until you figure it out like you’re siblings.

earth 42 miles! who you have to learn just loves that way and if you want a change you have to force it yourself. the look he gave you when you came back from the “restroom” on your next weekly date having found out when he waived down your waiter that the meal was already paid for was priceless and so was the small twitch of his lips upward at the bright, proud look on your face.

©2024 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, FLUFF, a lot of lips pursing, exaggerated cuteness (kinda), Boyfriend Sae, y’all already know he’ll get a bit ooc, it can be a little suggestive (just a little)

Waffle’s note -> I saw a post about cute aggression towards Rin once and I was like!! I have cute aggression?? Why not write about that?? But I already wrote something for Rin and then it hit me— why not Sae having cute aggression towards reader?? Ngl it was a bit challenging. I didn’t want to ooc him too much but I had to do it anyway :< okay now let me shut up.

❦ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢

✮ When you wake up, you have this adorable habit of stretching yourself— just like a cute little kitten. You arch your back, stretching your arms and legs while curling your toes. And every time you do that, your plump tummy shows. And god—Sae loves it. It always trigger in him, the urge to grab your hips and cover your tummy with kisses.

✮ Sometimes, Sae only half listens to what you say— especially when you’re ranting about your favorite character from your favorite show. Half of the time he just stares at you and nods along. Not because he doesn’t care about what you’re saying— no, he’s just trying to not pounce on you because of all the cute expressions you’re making. Yet he fails most of the time.

“ - God I hate him so much! Like how could he be so cruel to her!!? Can you believe it?? I know it’s just a facade and deep down he cares for her— because if not, why did he agree to wipe her father’s debts by marrying her— but still! She’s trying so hard to win his affection but it’s like he never understands shit ugh! And I hate how he’s so—

You pause staring back at Sae who’s just blankly gazing at you, blinking slowly.

“ - Sae? Are you even listening to me?” Mildly annoyed you tilt your head, lips pursed and brows slightly frowned.

Something in him snaps when he sees your expression. It’s too cute. Too irresistible. And your lips… so soft— so kissable. He just can’t hold back anymore, and eagerly grabs your face— which is quite surprised considering his usual aloof demeanor— he cups it in his hands. He then gently places a kiss on your cheek, then on your lips, then one on each one of your eye, to finally cover your entire face with kisses.

“- Ah— Sae! What are you doing?” You giggle, softly pushing him to get him to stop, but he just squeeze you harder.

“- Stay still. He says with a calm tone, totally not matching with his action. I’m not done.”

✮ He loves how your nose scrunches up when you laugh. Actually he just loves your laugh, that’s it. It’s cute. Every time he hears it, the urge to squeeze you in his arms floods his brain. Seeing you happy like that makes him soft— not like he’d ever admit it.

✮ He loves when you ask for kisses even when you’re upset with him. (Well in your own ways, because you can be quite stubborn.) Seeing you eagerly hold your cheek for a kiss, makes him wanna kiss you a hundred times more. And it’s the same with hugs. Again you really don’t ask. You either open your arms just in front of him or you force your way in. Well at least that gives him an excuse for not letting you go.

✮ When you’re shy or nervous in front of him— god he feels like he could swallow you whole from how cute you are. But again you’d never know what’s happening inside of his head, because he’s an expert when it comes to keeping his expression neutral— that’s just how he is. Yet, if you look closely, you can actually see the way his gaze softens when he looks at you. So at times, he would actually give in and let your cuteness avalanche his system.

You awkwardly peak inside of your bedroom, through the door.

“ - Sae…?” Lying on the bed while scrolling nonchalantly on his phone, Sae lifts his head, looking at you with a apathetic look on his face. You quickly make your way towards him, dressed in a cute little white sundress, falling just above your knees. Sae brought it for you on your date last week, but you didn’t get the chance to wear it yet.

As soon as he looks at your face, his gaze softens immediately. He throw a quick glance at your dress, then looks back at your face. Of course, you’re stunning— like always— but right now, the cute uncertain frown on your face is cuter than anything else. The dress kinda becomes irrelevant. Sure, it’s cute on you. But again, you’re way cuter.

Apprehensive of what your boyfriend could possibly say, you purse your lips, looking at him expectantly. An inaudible groan escapes his lips as he grabs your arm and yanks you on his lap.

“ -Ah!— Can’t you be more gentle?” You sulk.

You’re so irresistible— so much that he just wish he could hold you in his arms forever and never let go.

“ - Sorry. I got carried away.” He says as he gently bites your shoulder, slowly rubbing your arm. Feeling the sensation of his teeth gently pressing into your skin, makes you shiver a little.

His eyes meets yours and instantly a wave of affectionate and tender words threatens to overflow from his lips. But he doesn’t say anything— because really, none of these words were worthy enough to express what he really feels for you. So instead, he gently places his forehead on yours as he locks his intense gaze on you— trying to convey with his eyes everything words couldn’t. Your cheeks and ears dusted with a faint blush betraying your upset frown.

“- What…”

“ - Can I bite you?”

“ - Oh now you ask for permission…”

✮ Sae can definitely be tease sometimes— he doesn’t really look like the type, but he does— he loves teasing you. Especially when you are demanding his attention.

“ - …So I told her— ‘Yes! Go ahead, because why not right?’ And her reaction was actually SO cute—“

Noticing that Sae was only half paying attention to you, you frown while crossing your arms on your chest. You see, you have this cute habit of pursing your lips—all the time— every time you stress certain syllables. During those times, he can’t help but get distracted by your beautiful plump lips.

“ - You’re not listening.” You scold him.

“ - I am.” He says innocently, like he didn’t do anything. He was still glancing at your lips!

“ - No! You’re not fully paying attention to me. You keep looking at my lips!”

“ - So technically I am paying attention to you, right?”

You roll your eyes at him. He really knows how to get on your nerves sometimes.

“ - Stop playing with word! You know what I meant.”

“ - I love looking at your lips. They’re cute. You’re cute. You really do have all my attention. It’s just devided equally.”

“ - You’re insufferable…” You shake your head.

“ - C’mon tell me what happens next.” He chuckles lightly as you sigh softly, in defeat.

“ - Don’t wanna.” You involuntarily purse your lips again.

“ - …Are you trying to seduce me?” He says raising one of his eyebrow a faint smile showing up on his lips.

“ - I’m not. Otherwise I would have shown you my ass instead.”

“ - Getting bold aren’t we?”

“- Shut it.”

✮ The way you say his name when you’re excited about something, is always endearing to him. He can’t help but to take you in his arms and plant a kiss on top of your head.

✮ Seeing your cheeks full of food, makes it go all soft inside. He doesn’t even know why— wait, in fact, yes of course he knows, but explaining it is hard. It’s just— seeing you enjoying yourself and eating so enthusiastically makes him happy. And the little dance you make when the food is really good, really triggers his cute aggression. So he can’t resist the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks.

✮ Most of the time, you’re like a cat with him. When you two are cuddling on the couch, you always nuzzle against him, hiding your head in the crook of his neck. And till this day, he swears he heard you purr once— and yes that’s totally absurd, he’s aware, but he’ll never admit it. Because now, he can use that as an excuse to lie between your thighs and rest his head on your chest, pretending that he’s waiting for you to purr while secretly listening to your heartbeat.

✮ Some times, you just existing, can trigger his cute agression. You drinking water? He gets the urge to kiss you. You, sitting there all pretty watching TV? He just has to ruffle your hair. When you’re getting all shy from his compliments, while your ears, cheeks and nose turn a soft pink? He can never resist the urge to bite you all over. Controlling himself around you becomes harder and harder.

✮ He’s so into you that sometimes he thinks about just devouring you. It always sparks a flame of burning passion inside him. A flame so bright and so hot, that it’s hard to control. Yet, when you look at him and call his name with that genuine smile of yours, it’s enough to calm the raging storm of feelings inside of him. In those moments, he always gives in to the strongest feeling.

“ - Sae!”

“ - Hey. How—”

You jump into his arms, hugging him, as soon as he enters the lockers room. He just finished his training session. He was the only one left actually. All his teammates were already gone by now. But he knew when, and at what time you’d drop by to greet him, so he waited for you while practicing his shots a bit longer.

“ - I haven’t showered yet, I’m sweaty.” You two usually shower together in one of the shower stalls. Sae loves seeing you all shy when he asks you to join with him. It never takes long for the room to get all steamy. Yet today, there’s something different in the way you hold him, making his heart beat faster.

“ - Yeah I know, but I missed you. Plus you didn’t wake me up today, so I couldn’t see you off.” You lift your head toward him, resting your chin on his chest, lips pursed. He chuckles quietly, softly brushing a finger on your cheek.

“ - You were tired. I wanted to let you sleep a bit longer.”

You hold him tighter, gazing directly into his eyes.

“ - Are you gonna let me go?” He opens his arms hinting that you should let him go. You smell so nice, and you’re so soft… he didn’t want to get you all dirty with his sweat.

“ - Not yet… I kinda want to hold you forever right now.”

“ - Ah… Look what you’re doing to me.”

Sae drops his sport bag on the ground and wraps his arms around you, caging you in a heartwarming hug. In this hug, you can feel every single emotion that he has for you. They are pouring out endlessly through his embrace.

“ - I love you… I love you so much Y/n.”

Smiling from ear to ear, you squeeze him tighter, resting your head on his chest. You can now hear his heartbeat hammering inside of him, but you can also, definitely feel your own heartbeat pounding in sync with his.

“ - I love you too Sae.”

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

m’no good

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which honey gets the call from johnny that benny’s in the hospital :( cal takes her to him. :’)

warnings: talks of being beaten, descriptions of injury, cursing, lying, crying, being judgy again. it’s an emotional one to say the least, but there’s some sweet moments & a happy ending :)

author’s note: this is NOT in order with the last two parts posted. instead, it’s a future installment in “bein’ married.” you can find the timeline in da main hive masterlist. this is heavily based on the events of the bikeriders movie of benny getting beat up & hospitalized. of course this is my own made-up spin on the situation at hand. idk this idea struck me at 3am & i wrote it in less than a day, so i figured i’d just release it now. you can find a mention of this scenario in session 1 of from the hive 🎙️🐝 this can be read alone if you like, but the interview context could help for sure! x

+ also if you were wondering, i personally picture honey as brittany murphy’s character in uptown girl’s molly gunn! i’ve been obsessing over her style in it & that’s what inspired honey’s style in my writing — especially with the embroidered overalls. you can picture her however you please, & i hope you continue to do as yourself ofc <3

word count: 4.7k (2x longer than the other parts, yay!)

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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You were in the midst of Sunday dinner with your parents when you got the news. News that would leave you scrambling out of the house in an instant with no thoughts behind your honeydew drop eyes besides him — besides Benny.

Your Pa was comfortable at the head of the table, a cigarette between his lips as he scanned the paper under reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Your Ma had just taken her seat at the table, a forkful stabbing into her salad. So when the phone rang your Pa didn’t even flinch. A result of him being too engrossed in his paper. On the other hand, your Ma sighed in a way that made you know she was evidently too tired to be on her feet again. This led you to announce that you’d get the phone. And you did, pulling it off the reciever and twisting your little finger around the warm yellow chord.

“Hi, you’ve reached The BeeHive. Honey speaking!” You chirped into the phone in your usual honey coated tone. Between your family business that consisted of beekeeping and honey jarring, answering the phone in such a way became rather customary and oddly normal. So much so that no one seemed to bat an eye besides your cousins who laughed every time they called. Absolute menaces indeed.

“Honey?” It was Johnny’s drawl on the line, rough and edgy with a twinge of something you couldn’t catch.

“Oh hi Joh— Mr. Davis!” You cleared your throat and corrected yourself. Trying to remain formal. Trying to remain respectable. Sure, you and Johnny were far from past that. Calling him Johnny instead of Mr. Davis was an entirely different respect that only you, Benny, the wives, and the rest of the guys would ever understand. So your parents? Well, they wouldn’t get that, and besides his kids were still your students after all. “How’s it goin’? Y’need to speak to my Pa? He’s right ‘ere.” You asked, your father’s demeanor easily shifting at the mention, his paper going flat against the table. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to call your house. No — Johnny was a consistent buyer of your family’s honey. He incorporated it into the Club, handing the guys out honey beers during picnics and meetings. He learned of it from those community events you frequented with your parents, always having some sort of incorporation when catering was involved.

“Nah — nah.” He brushed that idea away rather quickly and your brows furrowed in confusion. “Gotta speak to yuh. Look I — I needa tell y’something, but if your Pa’s overhearin’ I need yuh to pretend we’re talking about the girls, alright?”

“I —“ you began but stopped short trying to compartmentalize what he was saying without reacting. “Oh, right I remember we were gonna talk about the girls' grades, yeah?” You rambled out, your words feeling far too thick coming out of your mouth, it almost didn’t sound like you. You feared your parents would catch on instantly, but instead their interest deflated as soon as nothing you said resembled anything to do with their business. It only took a second for your father to go back to his paper and beer and your mother to her salad.

“That’a good, Honey. Very good.” Johnny praised as you motioned with your hand that you were gonna step out of a sec, which really meant you were gonna pull the chord as far as you could into the other room. The distance — well it wasn’t much. The open archway from your parent’s kitchen to the living room wasn’t sound proof, so they could still technically hear every word you said, but your volume would be at lower frequency for sure, and your reactions practically undefinable.

“They’re doing real good, Mr. Davis. Bright girls you got there.” You muttered out so Johnny would know you were still there. You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you paced the short distance available you could in restraint of the phone.

“I know. I know. They love ya, Honey, and they’re just fine. No need to worry ‘ere.” He reassured you, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The last thing you needed to hear was something bad about those babies. It would absolutely break your heart. But what you weren’t expecting to hear was something that would shatter it into a million little pieces. “It’s uh — it’s Benny.” Johnny said, and every fiber of your being went on fire, burning to ash. “He’s — he’s banged up, Honey. Got ‘im in the hospital and everything. ‘parently some jackasses got ‘im real good at some pub not too far from us. Beat him the fuck up, and broke his foot. Could’a lost the damn thing over his colors.”

A gasp left your lips in an instant, and you almost choked as you swallowed down a whimper to conceal the sudden volcano of tears bound to erupt. Now you understood why Johnny wanted — no needed this conversation to be under wraps. Your parents were already nervous about your ridin’ and to hear about some guys jumping your husband for bein’ part of the Club 'would have your parents in a frenzy. “I’m — I’m so sorry t—to hear that, J — Mr. Davis.” You continued the facade, a facade that pained you even more now as you tied back your emotions so forcfully wanting to rip from the seams. “Is your l-little girl okay?”

“He’s fine. They’re takin’ good care of him last I heard from Cockroach. He’s up and talkin’. Took ‘im to the hospital on the West End.” Johnny explained and little by little, piece by piece the fragments of your heart were starting to come back together, but you knew for certain, they wouldn’t be mended until you saw him. Until you got to touch him. Inspect him. Coddle him. Got to know who the fuck messed with him. “Go ‘n see ‘im. He needs his wife, alright?”

“I will.” You assured him, stepping back to peek through the archway at your parents who were still eating. Thankfully nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll be over soon with the homework she’s gonna miss for the week. Does she need anything else from me? Need a friend to bring her books home tomorrow?” You added in code. Code for ‘Who the fuck did this to him, and how could you help make sure those fuckers never got as close as a mile away from Benny again?���

“Nah. Don’t you be worryin’ now, Honey. The guys and I are on it. We’ll take care of ‘em. You take care of ‘im.” He settled on the plan. “Capisce?”

A wave of relief washed over you then. A relief that could only come from Johnny’s word alone. Cause you knew he’d take care of it. He always did. “Capisce.” You sniffled, not caring anymore if your parents caught on.

“Cal’s already on the way to pick ya up at your Ma’s.” He informed you. “Told ‘em to park around the corner so there’s no suspicion. You can tell ‘em you're stoppin’ by the house.” You never thought a time like this would leave you feeling extra grateful that Johnny and his family only lived a block away from your parents. But here you were, feeling just that.

You wanted to thank him then. The words were resting against your tongue heavily, so you made do with what you could. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘ello. Please send my parents regards to your wife and the girls. I’ll be there soon.”

“Anything for ya n’ Benny. Y’know that. Yuh take care of y’self now, o—kay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, itching to run out of your house and into Benny’s arms already. If you could. God, you sure hoped he wasn’t too banged up for a cuddle or two. Makin’ him feel a whole lot better was your main concern. “Bye Mr. Davis. See ya soon,” you spoke into the line before stepping heavily across the threshold and accidently putting the phone back on the hook with a little more aggression than you anticipated.

“Sorry,” you tensed and broke out in an innocent smile, “I gotta go to Mr. Davis’s. His girl is sick real bad with the Flu. Doctors says she’ll be out of school for a week and of course there’s all this important testin’ going on. Gotta keep ‘er on track, y’know? Such a good cookie. Get in a fit if she misses one lick of school.” You rambled on, adding more and more to lie you rather not tell, but knew it was for their own good. For your own good. For Benny’s. Your marriage. Your future. What you’d hope would become a bundle of joy or two with his pretty blue eyes and freckled face to match.

“‘Course she does. She’s a Davis after all.” Your father added, a fond smile stretching across his face.

“Oh that’s too bad,” your mother frowned, and then stood unexpectedly, her chair scraping against the kitchen flooring. “Here, I’ll pack ya some honey buns to take to ‘er.” Before you could protest your Ma was already piling some of her homemade buns into a metal cookie container and passing them to you.

“Real sweet, Mama.” You could feel your eyes startin’ to tear up again, that familiar wave of remembrance coming back to remind you what you were really leaving for. A wave of impatience that made your anxieties spike higher and higher at the prospect of more minutes ticking away without you being next to Benny. “M’sure it’ll make ‘er feel so much better in no time.” You kissed your Ma on the cheek in appreciaton and turned to head out.

“Wait,” your Ma said right when you were about to exit the front door with your backpack in tow. Thankfully she didn’t see you mouth a curse into the air with your back towards her. “Y’didn’t even get to touch your dinner. Will ya be back to finish it or should I wrap it up?”

“Nah. That’s ‘ight.” You declined. “I still got leftovers in the fridge for me and Benny from Rosie’s. Heat it up when I get home, but thanks Mama. Save it for yuh and Pa.”

“‘ight. Get’ome safe, Honey.” She called out. Safe. Safe. Benny didn’t get home safe, but he was safe now. Safe in the hospital that is, but was he really safe?

Your fingers gripped the doorhand, knuckles burning white as you took a breath to calm yourself. “I will, Mama. Love ya. Bye!” And then you were out the door, trying to keep your composure as long as you could, until you were out of eyeshot of your Ma and Pa’s. Your ballet flat feet banged against the pavement as you went on running down the rest, a sharp turn at the corner showing Cal by his bike, waiting and ready for you. A fresh cigarette between his lips, just ‘bout to be lit, long forgotten once his eyes landed on you.

It only took one look at him. One frown on those deep set features of his for you to be barrelling at him, strong arms encircling you in a hug.

“Oh Cal!” You cried into his tattered shirt, the dame of tears breaking out of you uncontrollably. Too uncontrollably. But you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was Cal after all. The brother you never had. The brother you should have had. The family you now had because of Benny. Because of Johnny. And it wasn’t that you didn’t love your parents — you loved and appreciated them of course, but you never felt fully accepted by them. So being in Cal’s arms was far more comforting than being in the arms of your parents because you could be yourself with Cal, without judgment.

“M’so sorry, Honey. So sorry.” He mumbled into your sun kissed up-do, smelling of fresh vanilla and honey scented soap.

You were crying so hard. Too hard. You’d become a total mess of hiccups and hard breathes. Of course, Cal accessed you accordingly, pulling you from his chest to take a good look at ya. And boy did your rosey cheeks and red rimmed glossy coated eyes destroy him. They really did. He hated seein’ you like this. All the guys did. They loved you far too much.

Cal’s warm calloused fingers circled the apples of your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks that resided. “It’s gonna be ‘ight. ‘erything gonna be okay.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. “Gotta stay strong for ‘im so he can get betta. Can’t take ya like this. It’ll break ‘im, Honey.”

“I — I know. I know.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wet lashes bowing down. You took a breath. Then another. And another until you felt somewhat better. More calm that is.

“Ready t’go?” Cal asked carefully when he noticed your breaths evening out.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding your head.

Cal helped you onto his bike and you clung onto him as you rode. The weight of his jacket felt oddly comforting in your hold. Even though the circumstances of such colors were alarming in such a time, it didn’t leave you on edge by any means. Before you knew it, you were pulling up in the West End. Cal parked his bike, leading you to the front desk and of course the receptionist looked at the two of you kind-of funny.

“Family only.” She said to Cal, immediately putting two-and-two together who he was here for before turning to you, a big smile gracing her features. “How can I help ya, Miss?”

Your emotions were all over the place. Anger bubbling up inside you in an instant, ready to burst at the assumption of such a thing. Sure, it was a common mistake. To be misplaced next to one of the guys in your floral knitted cardigan and patterned jeans to match. But now — now, of all times. It was your last straw.

“That’s ‘is wife. Uh — Honey Cross.” Cal motioned to you, explaining who you were before your rage could ensue.

“Hm — I don’t see a Honey here,” the receptionist said, amusement crossing her features. Clearly pleased by shooting Cal’s advances in an instant. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” She pushed, and you were already ripping off your backpack before she could even finish the sentence.

Cal’s hands materialized around the straps without a second thought, helping you out of the thing but also holding it up for you while you fished for your bedazzled wallet. It was in the deep depths of the thing, mushed around with all your work sheets and lesson plans for the week. You were always equipped and extra prepared, making your supposed trip to the Davis’s for his little girl not amiss one bit. Your cutesy keychain clipped to the end flung about as you finally uncovered it, whipping out your ID with ease. This wasn’t your first rodeo in such a situation, learning from the last time Benny was tossed in a jail cell to get your ID updated with your new last name as soon as humanly possible.

The receptionist looked between you, Benny’s paperwork, and your ID for longer than necessary. “Hmmm, okay. Second floor room twelve, Mrs. Cross.” She finally gave in. “But you’ll have to stay here, Mister.” She told Cal.

He raised his hands up in the air like he was bound to be incarcerated, and the sight almost got a laugh out of you. Almost. “Fine. I’ll be out front when y’ready, Honey.” He informed you, and you nodded.

He helped you put your things back together, and when he caught wind of your name etched into your ID, his eyes widened. “Huh? So that’s y’real name then.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wedging the thing back into your wallet, snapping it close. And if you thought the receptionist was suspicious earlier, she was far more suspicious now.

His features scrunched up in an innocent way, that long earring of his shaking as he shook his head. “S’cute, but I can’t see ya as anything else but Honey. Be weird if I called y’anything else.”

“I get it,” the edge of your clip curled up in a faint smile then. Your first smile in what felt like ages. You couldn’t help it with Cal. It was hard not to smile around him. “Feels weird calling you Calvin, Caleb, or Calum or whatever. Which is it anyways?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought as you zipped your bag closed.

“Don’t matter now.” He patted your shoulders once your backpack was shelled around you. “Time to go see y’man, anyways.”

Turning on your heel, you nodded when you faced him, thanking him profusely and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as you gave him a tight hug. Once you let him go, you were off. Darting across the halls and climbing up the stairs, you weaved around the patients in their hospital beds being pushed by nurses and doctors in their lab coats until you made it to room twelve. For a moment, you stopped in your tracks, attempting a warm honey smile to grace your hubby with. To distract him from the evident pain he was having and the deep rooted distraught you felt inside.

But once you turned the corner, oh — you were a goner. There was Benny with a blue blooming zygoma, a swollen and bandaged eye, and his right foot propped up in a form fitted cast. Your heart shattered all over again without your control. Your hubby looked like a beat up puppy dog, and you couldn’t help but frown at the sight.

His blues — well his good one that is — caught your eye immediately. It was hard not to when you came waltzing in like that, all dolled up in a swarming buzz of color and sweet honey perfume. It wafted across the room and the smell touched his nose, warming him up for the first time since he’s been placed in this cold sterile room.

“Honey?” He blinked. Once. Twice. Wondering if your sweet face was an apparition. He told Cockroach not to tell you. Didn’t want you to see ‘im like this. Not until he was out and the brusin’ subsided at least, but he guessed Roach forgot to relay the message to Johnny and the rest of the guys when he told ‘em.

“Oh — my poor baby!” You cooed, racing across the room as soon as his gravelly voice hit your ears. You dotted on him in an instant. Fitting your form on the small empty space at the edge of the bed near his hip, you didn’t even bother pulling over the chair adjacent to his bed. And Benny didn’t mind no.

Even though he wasn’t too happy to see you here, he was happy to feel you here.

Your hand brushed through his hair and caressed the good side of his face, sweet and delicate. Benny couldn’t help but lean his cheek into your comforting touch. For the very first time you watched as a hot warm tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your hand.

“Please don’t let’em take my foot,” he begged, his large warm hands circling around both of yours and dropping them in his lap. “If — If they take my foot then I can’t ride again, and — and then how will I-I take y’to school?”

His sweep of emotions took you by surprise. You’d never seen him cry. Not when he was beaten and bruised in a bar fight. Not when a shard of glass wedged itself into his skin after punching through a car window. Not when you were applying alcohol to his cuts or when he was gettin’ stitches. No Benny never cried. And here he was now. Crying in front of you. In front of his wife. God, of course that just wrecked you.

Sure, maybe someone else would have made a stink. Would have told him that there were bigger things to worry about then his riding. But you wouldn’t do that — no. Besides you, ridin’ was Benny’s biggest passion. And both showed in the way he was most concerned about you. Concerned about taking care of you. How’d he do that if they took his foot and couldn’t take you to work every day. You couldn’t drive. Didn’t know how. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just never had the time to go get your driver’s license. Not between working at the local diner while you were studying and getting your degree. And now that you had it and Benny well — you had all that you really needed.

“I won’t let ‘em, baby. I promise. I promise.” You assured, pulling his strong hands up with yours and kissing each and every rough rimmed knuckle of his. “As for takin’ me to school. Don’t you worry about that. Took the bus before I met y’anyways. Doesn’t make a difference. I’ll do it until you’re better again, alright?”

But it did make a difference. It did to him. He adored those mornings and afternoons when he had you on the back of his bike, taking you to and from school. He especially loved it when you were still living with your Ma and Pa. It was the little things like that that not only got him through his day, but also made him feel like he was doing something good. Doing something good by you. Makin’ himself seem responsible enough to your parents for being on time and prompt, to marry you. And it worked after a while. He had you now as his wife. In the apartment you shared. In his home. In his bed. While that was all good and great, he couldn’t help but wonder if something like this would set them off.

He grimaced, the thoughts gnawing at him and makin’ him ask you, “do y’parents know?”

“No, no. They don’t. Think I’m at Johnny’s dropping off homework for his sick little girl. Think you’re at work. ‘Member I told ‘em you were working today so you didn’t have to come?” You reminded him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to throw a little white lie around here and there to your parents about Benny. Sure, he was on good terms with them now thanks to Johnny. Thanks to the fact that their little girl had him as her husband, and they didn’t have too much of a choice. But, that didn’t mean things were perfect. Benny wasn’t much of a fan at the way they treated you from time to time. Especially when they made comments about your decisions. About the way you dressed. He thought you were perfect as is, and it boiled his blood whenever he heard them goin’ on and on about it, especially at Sunday dinners. So sometimes he just didn’t come. Sometimes you didn’t go either. But of course you did today cause you felt bad you hadn’t been in awhile and felt like you needed to see ‘em. They were your parents after all. Now you were regretting not going with him instead. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had never gone to your parents in the first place.

“Hm, right,” he sighed, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “How was it anyways? Did they give ya a hard time?”

“No. Not today,” you replied. “Didn’t have time to. Didn’t even get t’sit down. I should’ve been with y’anyways.”

“No y’shouldn’t of.” He shook his head in disagreement, and then revealed, “m’no good for ya, baby.”

“What?!” You gasped, absolutely baffled by what he was sayin’. “What you goin’ on about?” He hadn’t just really said that? Had he? He did! “S’not true. Not true at all.” Your cute little bee earrings shook as you moved your head back and forth in earnest. “You’re too good t’me —“ He bowed his head down in a silent no. “Far too good,” you repeated, trying to search his eye so he could see you. Really see that you meant every word you were sayin’. “Y’loyal to Johnny and the guys. To me.” You reminded him, but his gaze was still downwards, trained on your conjoined hands in his lap. You brushed your thumb back and forth against his skin. “Lemme ask you somethin’..” you began, “What did y’do when those guys came up to ya, huh?”

“Told ‘em they’d have to kill me to get my jacket off,” he revealed, his response making your lips curl up soundly. That was your Benny right there, your loyal Benny.

“And why’s that?” You asked, pushing on. Trying to get him to the root of his decision.

“Cause…” he shrugged, taking a moment to think about it. “It represents my family….represents you. Hell, I got your patches on it!” His voice was slowly rising in defense, in bits of anger. “Got your name sewed over my heart bigger than a goddamn weddin’ ring will ever be and those fuckers laughed about it!”

A full, bright toothed smile had your dimples peaked like two pretty mountains, and when Benny’s eyes finally found your sweet honey speckled ones — well his anger dissipated. “Ah, c’mere.”

“I don’t wanna crush y—“ you began, worrying about hurting him, but he cut you off immediately.

“C’mere,” he cooed, scooting over just a tad so you could lay next to ‘em. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. Could never ever. Not when he wanted y’so bad. “Need my girl.”

“Alright, alright,” you hummed, rolling your eyes playfully as you curled yourself next to ‘em. A comfortable silence landed over the two of you, one that you were thankful for after everything. After all the fuss of the day. You just wished you could be just like this with him at home in your own bed. His strong arm wrapped around your back, hand cupping your shoulder and you tilted your head onto his own. His lips found your forehead quickly, feeling more pillowy than usual from the impact on his face and your eyes fluttered at the contact. “Oh that reminds me. Did ya eat?”

“Huh?” He hummed confused.

“Did they feed y’here yet?” You tried again.

“Nah,” he replied.

“Fuckin’ hell. Got y’propped up, but can’t feed ya…” you shook your head in disappointment, and your concern for him over something so miniscule within the swarm of everything warmed his heart tenfold.

You moved to get up, but he stopped you short with his hand that was once on your shoulder now materializing on your waist. “Where y’going?” He pouted.

“Nowhere, baby.” You assured him, fingers curling under the good side of his chin so you could leave a soft kiss on his lips which he relaxed in as soon as it came. “Just grabbin’ my bag from the floor. Got some grub — well…” you trailed off, a laugh escaping you as you unzipped your bag and took out the tin your mother gave you. “I know it ain’t dinner, but I say dessert won’t hurt. Doctor’s orders, y’know?” You opened the tin to reveal the fresh honey buns your Mama made then, and God did Benny wanna just eat you up instead. “Y’want?”

He nodded, so you didn’t hesitate in passing one over to him. Both of you enjoyed the sweet treat. So much so, that when a crumb or two fell on your chest, Benny dived right in to access it — and well who were you to protest when his soft lips met your warm skin? When his lips continued their assault around your fingers, cleaning off the sugary residue that remained. And you were happy. So happy and giddy because you were with your Benny. You knew no matter what happened. No matter what came next, the two of you would be alright. Cause that was what marriage was all about, signing up for the good, the bad, and the ugly, being there for each other in sickness and in health.

And in that short hour or so that remained in visiting hours, before the nurse flagged you down to kick you out, you laughed and giggled more than you had in days, and even when you scolded him, warning that a nurse may catch him licking down your chest or sucking your fingers, a smile graced your sweet features the entire time and Benny ate up every single second soundly.

“I fuckin’ love ya, y’know that Mrs. Cross?” He said to you at some point, in the midst of everything.

“I fuckin’ love ya too, Mr. Cross. Always and forever.”

And always and forever it was.

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additional author’s note: AH I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. PWETTY PLZ DON’T BE MAD AT ME FOR JUMPING OUT OF ORDER. (with a cherry on top 🍒)

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

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[trustmypoison]

Which tropes fit SVT?

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘hi jj! i don't know if you already did this but can you please write something about how svt members met y/n? Its either at a place or from a friend feel free to refuse if you're not comfortable with it I'll understand 🤗’

A/N: The more I wrote of this, the more this became a ‘which tropes fit best’ sort of thing. To the requester, I hope you understand and still enjoy! (I tried not to let my soft spot for some of my previous works sway this too much, but….)

Seungcheol - coworkers to lovers

I think he pours so much into his work that a lot of times you’d have to get his attention at work. With him as an idol, that could look very different and doesn’t have to be an idol x idol thing - think staff, producers, choreographers, or simply just office employees that he might bump into. I think he’d appreciate and be attracted to someone’s work ethic more than most members. 

Jeonghan - fwb to lovers

He just screams ‘it wasn’t serious until it suddenly was’ to me. Like, he would get involved with someone was a way to pass the time and blow off some steam, and he’d be genuinely convinced that that’s all it is. But when you’re vulnerable with someone like that, you sort of get to peek into their soul. So I think feelings would sneak up on him sooner rather than later. (And I do not think he’d always handle that gracefully.)

Joshua - brother’s best friend

(I will finish this fic. I will finish this fic. I will finish this fic!!) I think he’d meet someone through a friend and not think much about them at first. He doesn’t have a problem with that person, but one day it feel like being hit by a bus because he’s finally seeing that person. Like really seeing them. I don’t think he’d be very reserved about going after that person, but he would try to do it in a way that doesn’t upset his friend. 

Jun - costars to lovers

I don’t have an explanation for this one really, it just feels like destiny to me. Like he’d do his best to be professional and respectful, but he gets easily swept up in playing up the romance because of who he gets to play it up with. 

Hoshi - grumpy x sunshine

Guess which one he is??? But, really, can’t you see it? A partner that looks mildly annoyed when he’s so excitable, but would never ever ever make him stop. Him being really understanding of a grumpy partner’s boundaries and subtly maintaining them all the time. Grumpy partner being absolutely ruthless when someone gives him a hard time?? (Where do I sign up? I love this guy so much.)

Wonwoo - roommates to lovers

I think he’s slow to open up, but you have to show some vulnerability whether you like it or not when you live with someone. The proximity, the shared space, the seeing each other in their natural habitat? It would be painfully intimate whether he likes it or not. And I think he’d start to come around to it and have a soft spot for his roommate. 

Woozi - grumpy x sunshine

Guess which one he is????? I promise I’m not reusing this out of laziness, I’m just such a sucker for Woozi and Hoshi’s friendship dynamic, and I think that sort of dynamic would work in a romantic relationship too. I think he’d be hesitant to admit it, but he’d really benefit from someone that makes him loosen up and relax. Someone who injects some excitement into his life outside of work. Or someone who’s simply not shy about giving affection because he may never ask for it. 

DK - golden retriever x black cat

Now this is distinct from grumpy x sunshine in a way that I just don’t have the faculty to describe. I just have this image that he’d be the best person to be with if you find yourself in a dark spot sometimes. He’s simultaneously understanding and pulling you out of your slump, if only for a little bit. Maybe I’m projecting, but someone who’s sort of traumatized could really use someone like DK that is so genuinely kind. 

Mingyu - golden retriever x golden retriever / friends to lovers

Okay, I couldn’t pick. I just picture that he’d make friends with someone that is just like him in a split second. And it’s probably just friends for a long time. You guys go out and have fun and like to be the life of the party and the center of attention. And it might become more on totally accident. I think he’d struggle initially because it was just friends, how did it change? 

Minghao - enemies to lovers

I think he doesn’t let people in quickly. In fact, he might leave a bad impression at first because he can come off as cold and unfriendly. This could come about in so many ways - academic rivals, coworkers that hate each other, or maybe you share mutual friends and have never gotten along. But his soft spot would start to show slowly and it might take some time for either of you to become comfortable with the fact that such a soft spot exists because you’re so used to the hate. 

Seungkwan - the slowest of slow burns

I just get the vibe that everyone around you both are just screaming ‘please get together already, I’m sick of this!!’ Like, they might even try to set you guys up and get you both to finally admit that you like each other. But the catch is that for a lot of those attempts, you don’t even realize you’re into each other!! This is so painful for everyone else around you and you both are terribly confused by the overwhelming relief everyone shows when you’re finally together. 

Vernon - the (un)requited love

Picture that you guys are mutual friends, maybe not close, but close enough for him to know he’s into you. And he will never say anything about it. Basically no one knows about that either because he’s sure it would be a waste of time since you aren’t into him. Like, he thinks he’ll go to his grave never saying anything about it. So imagine his surprise when you just casually admit your feelings. He won’t know what to do with shock. 

Chan - opposites attract

This one is also distinctive from grumpy x sunshine or golden retriever x black cat. What I mean by opposites attract is that he’s got a massive amount of confidence and he would actually be into someone that is very humble and maybe even a little unsure of themselves. I think he likes to be a cheerleader for others and he also thinks it’s sweet if someone does not know how to take that sort of support. 

[ghouldump]

Fangirl | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ meeting the vampire rockstar goes surprisingly well

here is something short, while waiting on the other posts coming soon :) if this post isn't up around 7/26 its because i hated the fic so much, i went ahead and deleted it

“How does my hair look?” You kept looking into your phone camera, touching your makeup.

“It looks good, what about my outfit?” Cara, your friend, asked.

“You both look fine, I wish you would come on,” her brother, Caleb groaned.

“Seriously, all of this over some guy who claims he’s a vampire,” her boyfriend, Jason, grumbled, out of jealousy.

“You never know, he might be legit, you know there was a book that came out recently-

“Don’t start with your vampire conspiracies, Y/n,” Jason said, rudely, while Caleb snickered.

“Ignore him, even if he’s pretending, he’s sexy, so it doesn’t matter,” Cara laughed, taking your hand as you both entered the stadium.

Sighing, you tried to focus on the concert, and not let Jason’s words get to you. You could be a little sensitive and his words hit a nerve. Cara was the one who introduced Lestat’s music to you, professing he was her celebrity crush. Since then, you couldn’t deny the overwhelming interest you held for him and his outlandish claim that he was a vampire.

When she brought up the concert, you immediately began saving money, not only for the best seats but for a backstage pass. You were ecstatic, and you couldn’t let someone like Jason of all people ruin your night before it started.

Suddenly, the lights began to dim, the crowd began cheering, he was coming. As the music started, he appeared, and everyone screamed wildly. You could hardly move, frozen, mesmerized by his presence. The hair, face, body, skin, he seemed like the embodiment of perfection. Just as his eyes landed on you, you felt like you could melt, your face burning in excitement.

“I think he just looked at me,” Cara told you.

Not saying a word, you kept your eyes on him, watching as he slightly smirked, grabbing the microphone.

“He kept looking at me,” Cara said as you both made your way backstage. Neither Caleb nor Jason were willing to pay the extra money, leaving to wait in the car for the two of you.

"I think he looked at me too," you said, as she frowned, before scoffing.

“I would’ve noticed, he was basically singing to me,” she cheered, as you both approached the line.

Everyone stood, waiting for their autograph or picture, giving Lestat all of their praises, until it was finally your turn.

“Oh my god, could you sign this?” Cara asked as you made eye contact with Lestat. His gaze was intense, making you look at the floor.

Quickly signing Cara’s album, he hadn’t acknowledged her once, already reaching for your hand.

“Hi, I didn’t bring anything, you can sign my arm,” you laughed, as he quickly wrote his signature.

“Thank you, are you actually a vampire?” You asked. Cara stood awkwardly next to you, waiting for you.

“Y/n, why would you ask him-

“I have no reason to lie, Y/n, would you like proof?” He asked, his eyes examining your outfit in approval.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Why don’t you wait for me?” He pointed towards his dressing room.

“You can’t stay, Caleb and Jason are waiting for us,” Cara told you.

“I will make sure you are home before sunrise, is that alright, ma chèrie?” He asked you, tilting his head.

Nodding, you began to walk into the room, jumping as Cara stumped her feet.

“It’s not fair, I knew your music first,” she told him.

“And I appreciate your support, but I’m afraid you are holding up the line,” he told her, chuckling as she stormed off.

Sitting near the vanity, you received all kinds of messages from Cara. You were tempted to leave, hurt by all the mean things she said, because you chose to stay. You didn’t understand why she was so angry, she had a boyfriend, and you expressed your interest in Lestat as well.

“She’s been jealous of you all along, why do you think she allows her boyfriend to talk to you so rudely?” Lestat asked, rhetorically, taking off the shirt, as soon as he stepped into the room.

“She’s just…a really big fan of yours,” you cleared your throat as he approached.

“Are you a fan?” He asked, leaning on the table in front of you.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Then how she feels is truly irrelevant,” he chuckled.

“We will be leaving shortly,” he continued, changing into a button-down shirt.

Walking to the opulent convertible, you kept your head down. Fans and Paparazzi all called out his name, yet still, they kept a clear path for him, almost afraid of what would happen, blocking his way. He kept a slight smirk on his face, giving them only enough of his attention that would leave them begging for more.

Getting into the car, he blew them a singular kiss before speeding off. As reckless as he seemed, he was a great driver, and patient, listening to the classical music that played lowly on the radio. Finally, he parked in front of a large house.

“T-this is your home?”

“No, just temporarily, my house is in New Orleans,” he said, nonchalantly, getting out of the car, as you hurriedly followed behind him.

Entering the large house, your eyes wandered up the walls, to the ceiling, admiring the details. Looking back down, you realize that Lestat wasn't walking anymore, staring at you.

“What?” you asked, nervously.

“You've been around that wretched excuse of a friend for too long, you have no reason to be timid, you are a piece of art,” he complimented.

The trait reminded him too much of a certain someone, accepting poor treatment, and constantly being undermined and disrespected. You deserved better, much like his Louis did, and for that he liked you a bit more, perhaps you could be around much longer than he originally planned.

“Thank you,” you said, gulping as he circled around you.

Unconsciously, you backed up, moving away from him, until you bumped into the sofa. As you nearly fell backward, he caught you. Reaching for your jaw, he lifted your head, your eyes meeting his, and instantly, he began his hypnotic voice.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, nervous, anxious, you’re allowed to be as carefree as your mortal heart desires,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Okay,” you nodded, before snapping out of the trance.

“Come, ma chèrie, the night is still young,” he told you, holding out his hand. Biting back your smile, you accepted his hand, giggling as he swiftly picked you up, carrying you to the master bedroom.

“Why didn’t you stick with opera?” You asked Lestat, you both lay in his bed, conversing for the last two hours.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he smirked.

“Like pretending to be a vampire,” you stood on your knees, before he pulled you into his lap. Baring his teeth, you gasped for a moment, realizing the fangs were real.

“As stated before, I have no reason to lie, I have been a vampire for over two centuries”

“You’re legit,” you smiled excitedly, as you reached for his teeth, poking the fang.

“You’re more excited than I imagined”

“I hoped you were, that it wasn’t a costume,” you confessed to him.

“To fulfill your fantasies? I see what you think of happening, of doing. For your desires to be made manifest, show me what you want, what your heart calls out to me for,” he told you, kissing your wrist, as you climbed out of the bed.

Undoing your top, as soon as it fell to the floor, Lestat was in front of you. His glass-like nails trailed across your stomach, as he circled you. Pulling you into his embrace, he took in your scent. Goosebumps covered your arms, as you stood pressed against his cold chest.

His hands brushed against your neck, before moving to your breast, cupping them. Closing your eyes, you moaned, as his fangs sank into your neck. The sensation of your blood draining, mixed with the massaging from his hands, the exchange felt better than sex.

Pulling away, you stared into his eyes, your blood all over his mouth. Grabbing your head, he hungrily kissed your lips, picking you up, and carrying you to bed. Stripping the remainder of your clothes, Lestat kissed you as if he'd never been kissed.

“Am I going to die?” you asked, catching his attention.

“All mortals die,” he reminded you, before he went back to kissing your neck, smirking as you moaned.

“Will you turn me?” you asked.

“Not tonight, ma chérie,” he laughed, pulling the blanket over the two of your bodies.

Lestat’s ego was stroked, hearing how much you were turned on by your blood being drunk. So much that he was willing to give you the real thing to compare it to since you thought it was so much better than sex. He wouldn't kill you, not like he had done the others. Your essence was too familiar, and he could already see himself growing attached in the future. He liked you and intended to see you again.

“I hope you sleep well,” you told him, as you went to get out of the car.

“I will and I plan to see you soon, ma chérie,” he told you, watching as you got out of the car, tiredly walking to your front door. The amount of times and positions you had previously experienced didn't even seem humanly possible, leaving you feeling like an entirely new person.

Just as you shut the front door, your phone began ringing. Seeing Cara’s contact, you felt visibly agitated, rolling your eyes before accepting her call.

“Why weren't you answering the phone?” she asked immediately.

“I left it in his car, on accident”

“So, how did it go?” she asked. Thinking of Lestat’s words, you knew better than to share details, when she didn't even want you to go in the first place.

“I don't kiss and tell”

[nightlyrequiem]

Maybe something with Valeria as mom to a very talkative baby girl? While reader is just dying of love in a corner*blink blink* (sry I'm ovulating xd)

This was so cute! :(

I love my angst and tension but I never realised how good it feels to write something that's just wholesome. It makes me wonder how Valeria would actually be if she were a mother. I think I can see her being both overprotective and one of those parents that thinks her kid should break a few bones in life. Not what I wrote here, just a little headcannon.

Tags/Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy, WLW, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Unnamed but Loved Baby

Baby Babble

Tranquility is a heavy feeling. Though it's not similar to the heaviness of hopelessness. It isn't cumbersome rather comforting. You feel weightless as you sink into the couch. Cuddled up under three blankets. After many long, serious talks with Valeria, weighing the risks of having children, you finally proceeded with the IVF process. Due to the nature of Valeria's work, she couldn't be the one to carry. It was a lengthy process with needles and vitamins and pills. Almost two years of preparing and failing. It took a while but finally your body accepted her eggs and you carried your baby girl for eight and a half months. 

Your daughter was born a little early and a little sickly but made a swift recovery. So energetic and happy. Her conception was difficult, and the beginning wasn't simple, but she turned out to be such an easy baby. Rarely fussing and as healthy as she could be. Valeria didn't carry her, but she's just as invested, if not more than you. Often being the first one to get out of bed and check on her when she cries at night. When handling her baby there is no trace of the violent criminal, instead she's just Valeria. Stripped down of all her complex layers.

A few flickering candles light the clean-living room. A few toys scattered around the open space, stuffed animals and plastic contraptions with cartoonish smiling faces.

"Come here." Valeria coos. Crouched down with her arms spread. Recently, your daughter has begun to start using her legs. Awkwardly stumbling in small bursts before tumbling down onto her knees. Your daughter smiles, her chubby cheeks looking even chubbier and that makes you smile in turn. She pushes herself onto shaky feet and takes cautious, wobbly steps towards her mother.

"Ba! buh." She babbles. A talkative thing, she is. Valeria has taken it upon herself to start teaching her the basics of Spanish. Even before she started to crawl Valeria was dutifully making flash cards. Simple words and grammar. She hasn't said her first word yet, but you believe it will be soon. 

"That's right, come here mija."

Your daughter blows raspberries and falls to her knees. Landing soundlessly on the carpet.

She gets back up and continues on. Your persistent little girl. She makes it into Valeria's arms where she's promptly lifted up.

"¡Mi niña fuerte! Estarás corriendo de un lado a otro en poco tiempo." Valeria says, voice high pitched.

"No baby talk." You remind her gently. As hard as it is, the pediatricians discouraged baby talk. It can negatively impact the development of their speech.

Valeria sighs and nuzzles her baby's nose with her own. "I know, I know." Valeria jerks her head away as your baby swings a tiny fist at her. Eliciting an amused chuckle from the both of you.

"Mmm." Your baby hums. "Mma."

"It sounds like she's saying 'ma.''" You remark, lips twitching from how precious she is.

Valeria holds her up and looks at her, smiling warmly.

"it does," She laughs. "'mama', say 'mama.'"

"Am."

"Ma-ma." Valeria walks over and sits down next to you. Adjusting the blankets over her thighs. Your baby sat on her knee with an arm holding her up. You lean against Valeria.

"Mam."

Her little voice makes your heart swell. What will she sound like when she grows into her forever voice? She blinks her big brown eyes, so much like Valeria's. 

"My beautiful family." Valeria murmurs softly. Kissing your forehead.

"Mama."

You gasp in excitement. Grabbing Valeria's arm. "She said it!"

Valeria strokes your daughter's cheek.

"You're so smart." She says thickly. "Say 'mama'. Say 'mama' sweetie."

"Mama!" Your baby squeals. Valeria's face lights up. You're overjoyed that both of you can be here for this milestone.

You yawn but fight back sleep. Wishing you could stay in this moment forever. Capture it in a little bottle to carry around with you. To hold and admire in your darkest moments. A reminder of what you have and what you're living for. Your wife, and your daughter. The two most important people in your life.

"She'll be graduating college before we know it." Valeria whispers fondly. Resting her head against yours.

"Shhh." You reply. "Don't say that. She'll be this small forever." You gently trace the curve of her nose. Trying to burn the sight into your memory.

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits) PT2

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 6.2k +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: swearing, smut, a lot of plot, use of Y/N, FOMO, partying, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, weed), pet names (sweetheart, pretty boy, pretty girl, ma, cherry), name calling (slut), making out, getting caught, p in v, jealous!Reader, jealous!Chris, dom!Chris, unprotected (wrap it before u tap it), spanking, riding, doggy, degradation(?), creampie, slut shaming

(A/N: I wrote this in like a day. so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. this was fun to write and ended up way longer than intended. Enjoy 🤭)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Now sitting at my vanity I’m touching up the rest of my makeup. I’ve been invited to some party, even though I said I would distance myself from that kind of stuff. But I was invited and my FOMO was bad enough to make me go.

“You done? The Uber is here.” Evelyn asks. Evelyn is my best friend, and she has been since middle school, she was there for my awkward phases and stuck with me. Now we’re in senior year soon to graduate.

“Yeah I’m coming.”

I say standing up a bit too aggressively than intended. I just really would like to stay home for once and just sleep, but I really can’t.

I don’t even want to go to that goddamn party, but the more time passed the more I thought about how much I’d miss out on.

‘What if something happened and I wasn’t there to see it’

I grab my purse and walk out the door, Evelyn following behind me.

I was wearing a tight, black, mini-dress, that wasn’t as short as the average mini-dress. It is about mid-thigh, but it has a ‘sexy slit’ up my left thigh. And my hair simply down

Evelyn was wearing a simple navy blue mini-dress, that, in her words “has the right amount of glitter on it”. Both of us decked up in jewelry.

Evelyn has her hair bleached, almost platinum blonde. She wears a lot of heavy makeup, but she looks gorgeous with it. Her eyes are dark adding a good contrast.

The first time Evelyn dyed her hair was in like 8th grade. To go from her dirty blonde a little lighter. Until eventually doing it so many times, going lighter and lighter until she ended up here, platinum blonde. But it suits her.

We walk out of my house, the Uber already there like she’d said.

And while I’m still thinking about why I even agreed to this, and ‘oh, it won’t be that bad’ , and ‘I do this all the time anyway’ , we arrive.

“Girl” Evelyn nudges me nodding to the window, and when I turn my head we’re here. I open the car door, and as soon as I do I can already hear the faint hum of the music coming from inside. I slide out of the backseat, Evelyn following behind me, after paying and tipping the driver.

We step up to the porch, and people in the front yard were already throwing up and smoking and whatnot. After all, we came fashionably late.

As soon as we Walk in the intense smell of alcohol and weed washes over me.

I started to question if this was actually a good idea. But when I look over at Evelyn the blonde is already looking over the crowd of people. She looks excited, and I can’t help the sigh that I let out.

Nobody seems to hear it anyway, the music is too loud.

“Go have fun,” Evelyn says over the music elbowing my side.

I roll my eyes looking over at her, a small smile crossing my lips as I chuckle. “You too. I’ll see you later.” I answer loudly smiling back at her before she nods eagerly.

Evelyn isn’t a bad friend at all. She’s great. Just at parties, I would much rather not stand next to her while she is flirting with some dude.

I tell her everything. Always. Except for the fact that me and Chris hook up. It’s kind of a more secret thing, especially since Evelyn knows how much we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. The feeling, the things that he makes me feel. So I don’t even try.

I watch her fade into the crowd starting to make my own way into the party.

It was a simple house party some random popular rich kid was throwing. Nothing special.

I make my way to the kitchen, brushing past drunk and sweaty teenagers.

Parties are way more enjoyable when you’re drunk.

So I pore myself some shots to get myself started.

I down another shot, feeling like the two I already took weren’t enough. I put down the shot glass more aggressively than needed, my face contorting in disgust at the liquid burning down my throat.

I look over at the bottle of tequila on the counter next to me. I sigh steadying myself on the counter my arms holding me up. I look down for a moment already feeling the alcohol kick in. The music started to sound louder, ringing in my ears.

I sigh standing up straight again. I can feel the effects starting. My eyes scan the room, looking for any familiar faces, or anyone cute..

With how much I party I handle my shots pretty well.

I furrow my eyebrows walking around the kitchen island to the living room where most people are, crowded in the middle, dancing and whatnot.

I see Evelyn there, and she’s just dancing so I join her.

After a while I excuse myself. I need some fresh air. I’d been offered one too many beers and I was feeling way more drunk than I wanted to be.

I really don’t wanna go home completely drunk.

I push my way through the crowd of teenagers, making my way to the back door. Getting out, the fresh air hits me like a truck. It feels like I can breathe again.

I step down the porch, sitting down at the steps of the back porch leaning against the railing slightly.

The fresh air feels sobering, but the sips from my red solo cup keep me drunk. I think it’s some sort of beer, but honestly, with the amount of different alcohol I’ve had tonight, I can’t even tell the difference.

Suddenly I feel a presence next to me. I look over to see a brunette boy.

Ethan Marlo.

He’s the school's resident stoner. The leader of the other skater boys. He’s been caught smoking on school grounds so many times.

And while I was certainly not innocent either, at least I didn’t go and get caught.

His hair is long and messy brown… -reminds me of Chris’.. no it’s too curly for that...

His eyes are brown but somehow sharp like he was staring into my soul, and judging everything he saw.

I’d talked to him a few times before, nothing worth noting though. But from what interaction I’ve had with him he was nicer than he looks.

He may just have a resting bitch face.

“Hey?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

I watch him pull the cigarette from his lips blowing the toxic smoke away.

“Hi.”

I watch as he puts the cigarette back between his lips. I raise an eyebrow watching him. Waiting for him to speak. To tell me why he is sitting next to me.

But he doesn’t.

“Do you talk?” I ask slightly annoyed at having my alone time interrupted cause some random kid sat down.

“Yeah.” He mumbles against his cigarette taking another puff.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows away the smoke before looking at me again.

“I’m Ethan.” He smiles slightly.

“I know.”

Almost everybody knows Ethan. The kid’s a troublemaker. Teachers hate him. He’s a problem child and people know him for that. And he’s not exactly ugly or anything either.

“Now sweetheart, this would be the moment when you introduce yourself.” He sounds sarcastic almost like he was fucking with me.

“Y/n” I say simply staring back at him as he gives me a goofy grin.

I’m not popular in school, but people still know me. They know who I am because mainly Chris and I would always argue. And people know Chris.

Girls are all over him. Asides from the obvious fact that he’s a triplet and most people think that’s interesting. Most people also think he’s hot.

But most people at our school are stupid anyway.

“You want one?” He asks nodding down to the cigarette in his hands.

It wasn’t like I’d never smoked before, but I’m not a smoker.

I shrug letting out a small “Why not”

I look back at Ethan, and I feel him cup my face with his hand. My lips parted in shock. he chuckles, He places his cigarette between my lips.

When he takes his hand off of my face I raise an eyebrow at him, taking the cigarette between my pointer and middle finger as I inhale it.

Taking the cigarette from my lips I go to speak again. I breathe out the smoke.

“Dude” I sigh, my tone sounds flatter than intended. but whatever.

I pause for a moment taking another drag. He was always known to carry some weed.

“You got any weed?” I ask handing him the cigarette.

He chuckles pulling out an already rolled blunt and tossing it over to me. “You’re pretty you know that?”

He says looking back at me. I raise my eyebrow picking up the rolled blunt and putting it in my purse. “Oh yeah?”

It sounds more cocky than it did in my head but oh well.

I probably look really cocky right now. With the way, I’m leaning back against the higher step behind me.

But whatever. Honestly, I’m too drunk to care.

I put the cigarette back between my lips breathing in the toxic smoke.

Okay, maybe crossfaded.

Pulling the cigarette from my lips, I hold it between two fingers as I take a sip of my drink in my solo cup.

“Yeah”

He looks at me like he genuinely thinks I’m pretty. And honestly, I like the attention, but I don’t know if I actually like it. It feels weird. But I don’t know if that’s just me being drunk and oblivious or something.

I hand him over the cigarette and he takes it from my fingers, taking a drag of it.

“You’re interesting.”

The words leave my lips before I know. He was. I don’t think he was middle class at all. And he was a stoner and a skater, of course, he is interesting.

“Is that a compliment?” He chuckles watching me as he smokes his cigarette.

I chuckle. I feel like I’m sobering up too much.

“Imma go inside pretty boy.”

And with that I’d gotten up, half stumbling to the door. As soon as I'm inside I brush through crowds of people.

Oh wow, that dude looks like Chris

I stop in my tracks as I narrow my eyes at the couple making out in the corner of the living room.

Hold on that is Chris.

Who the fuck is he kissing.

Poor girl

They shift slightly and even from across the room I can tell that he’s deepening the kiss.

I wait to see if they shift enough for me to see her face.

Chris turns her around, pinning her to the wall by her neck. Her entire face is in view.

Charlotte Baker.

I’ve known Charlotte since kindergarten. Chris had too. But I’ve known Chris longer than she has.

I thought he wasn’t into blondes?

I wouldn’t care who he kisses, we’re not exclusive or anything. But him kissing the very embodiment of what he is not into? The person I hate the most?

Well okay, I don’t really hate Charlotte. I severely dislike her. She’s a bitch. No literally. She’s always so rude. But I don’t know if that’s just me. She seems to have a particular hatred towards me.

They continue making out and honestly, I don’t want to see him stick his tongue down her throat- like he had done to me so many times.

I blink aggressively. I realize that people have been brushing past me and that I’d been staring so I move out of the way.

Leaning against the wall of the living room, right opposite where Chris has her pinned. I’m watching them. I know I am. But I can’t pull my eyes away from them.

It feels like I only have tunnel vision on them. And honestly I don’t know who I feel bad for more.

Chris, for kissing Charlotte, knowing she’s a bitch.

Or Charlotte, knowing she’s making out with a guy whose motto is literally ‘hit and quit’.

I can feel my throat burning as I sip on my red solo cup, which is probably filled with beer.

I sigh, I really need to sober up

I push myself off the wall shaking my head slightly. I go to the kitchen, pushing through the teens in my way. Honestly, I don’t know what time it is, but do I care tho.

I pour the liquid in the red solo cup down the drain, watching it. I lean against the counter over the sink closing my eyes for a second to stay focused.

But all I can really think of is Chris and Charlotte making out just a room away. And the thought disgusts me to the point I wanna throw up, but that could also be the alcohol.

God, I wish I could string together a coherent thought.

I glance over my shoulder. The kitchen is open to the living room and entry but from where I’m standing I can’t see them.

I go to the fridge pulling out a water bottle. The bottle is cold against my skin, and suddenly I’m aware of how I feel like I’m burning up.

With shaky hands, I open the bottle of water taking a sip. Letting the cold water flow down my throat and ease the burn of the alcohol I’d been drinking.

I blind furiously stare at the wall trying to sober up drinking half the bottle.

I sigh my eyes drifting back to the living room. I feel more sober than I did five minutes ago.

I can’t see them, so I walk to the other side of the kitchen trying to get a view of where they were without having to go back to the living room.

They’re not there.

My thoughts immediately go to dirtier places. Shaking my head I furrow my eyebrows, my body tensing up before I realize.

Fuck, ew, I don’t wanna think of that. The fuck.

I take another sip of the water trying really hard to sober up more.

But before I know it, I’m already stumbling up the steps.

So maybe I’m not as sober as I thought, what about it.

I think I’d decided to go upstairs to relax instead of outside because Ethan was still outside. And honestly, I’d left him, so if I came outside again he’d surely ask why I came back right?

I open a random door, leaning against the doorway. Staring into the room my eyes squinted.

Until my eyes fall on Chris… with Charlotte.

Them, making out, Charlotte on top of him while she is fumbling to undo his belt.

Chris’ eyes snap open staring at me. While kissing her. My jaw clenches as I stand frozen not moving to leave like I should’ve.

He breaks the kiss slightly, pushing Charlotte away but not letting go.

“Y/n. Leave”

His gruff voice says and my mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out.

When Charlotte hears my name, and sees he’s looking past her she looks over her shoulder her eyes locking her with mine.

A disgusted look crossed my face. Not that it was intentional, but Jesus was this sight ircking.

Did I look like that when I’m on top of Chris? Ew.

I shake my head slightly turning on my heel, slamming the door behind me.

Okay, maybe dealing with Ethan would’ve been easier than ever having to witness that.

I walk downstairs. That sight sobered me up more than all the water I just drank.

I card through the people again now annoyed with how many people are here. Christ i just want to be alone somewhere.

Going back outside I sit back down next to Ethan. He had moved to the side where I had been sitting. And now he was smoking some weed.

“Back already?”

His tone sounds amused, and now that I’m more sober I can clearly see him checking me out.

“You mind?” I raise an eyebrow turning more towards him. my eyes scanning his face.

He had those dark brown eyes. They were droopy and he had heavy bags under them. His hair did remind me of Chris’, it was almost the same shade. His hair was curlier than Chris’ tho and probably also a little longer. His jawline is sharp and-

Why the hell am I comparing this random cute skater boy to Chris?

“No” he chuckles and looks at me.

He looks kind, honestly.

I lean over taking the blunt from between his lips and putting them between my own.

“What, did you already smoke the blunt I just gave you?”

“So what if I did?”

I didn’t. It was still in my purse, but he didn’t need to know that. Maybe he’ll give me more.

I pull the blunt from my lips blowing the smoke right in his face. But he doesn’t even flinch at it.

He’s a stoner, of course, he wouldn’t.

He chuckles watching me, taking the blunt from my lips before I can take a drag. Grinning, he puts it between his own lips.

“ ‘ts fine. I have more” he mumbles around the blunt before inhaling properly.

“I see that” I chuckle watching him as he takes a drag.

He looks pretty like that. He looks painfully similar to Chris tho. He could almost be their lost brother. If he put in blue contacts that is.

That’s a stupid thought-

“So, you know the party is inside right? What’re you doing here?” I ask my curiosity taking over.

He chuckles blowing the smoke into my face like I had previously done to him. He puts the blunt between my lips.

“Don’t question me, pretty girl.” He chuckles. I raise an eyebrow but inhale from the blunt. Watching him pull the blunt to his own lips as I exhale.

“Yeah,” I chuckle watching him. I feel more sober than before, but the weed is making me feel things again. “Mhm, so don’t question me either.”

He raises an eyebrow, pulling the blunt from his lips. But before he can ask anything I'm climbing into his lap.

He’d been sitting there all sprawled out. And the weed was starting to hit me. I don’t know why I’d get on the lap of this random, hot, interesting guy. But, why not?

And if Chris can fuck someone else, I might as well have fun too.

He doesn’t tense up, probably as high as me, if not even more. He looks up at me on his lap looking so kissable.

Those lips that look like Chris’ are driving me crazy

“Making moves on me now sweetheart?” He chuckles putting the blunt between his lips again as he takes another drag. His eyes are already red, and mine are probably starting to get red too.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been flirting with me”

I answer without thinking. Being high, and slightly tipsy from earlier was making me bolder. And the way he looks at me gives me an ego boost.

I pull the blunt from his lips after he takes a drag of it. I chuckle, putting the blunt between my own lips and taking a drag.

“Oh but have I?”

After inhaling I pull the blunt from my lips. Putting it out on the porch steps next to us.

I lean over him my hand cupping his jaw as I kiss him blowing the weed smoke into his mouth.

Except we never pull apart. his hand goes to the back of my neck and my waist, as we start to make out heavily.

My arm wraps around his neck the other one holding him by his jaw as the kiss turns even more hearted.

His hand starts to tail down my waist, to my thigh. My left thigh. His hand grazes my bare skin, getting dangerously close to my ass, and my lacy thong than I would like.

We probably look like we’re trying to devour each other. Well, that’s at least how I feel. Until-

“What the fuck?”

Chris.

I pull away from Ethan abruptly. He looks at my face, then to where I am looking.

Chris is standing there in all his glory. His arms crossed, as he stands in front of the back door. All the way at the top of the steps, on the porch, looking down at us.

I clench my jaw. I wanna ignore him and go back to what I was doing but he was giving me that look. That look that promised trouble. He was telling me to come to him, without telling me.

I lean against Ethan pecking his jawline.

“I gotta go pretty boy”

I mumble under my breath before getting up from where I’d been on his lap and walking the few steps up the porch.

My tiny handbag is on my arm as I walk towards Chris. I pull down the back of my dress as I feel Chris' harsh grip on my upper arm.

“Upstairs you’re gonna regret that.” He says under his breath leaning in slightly so I can hear him.

I purse my lips opening the backdoor and walking in. Chris’ hand stays on my arm pulling me upstairs.

We enter some random room.

The same room that he fucked her in.

He presses a kiss to my head, leaning over me to undo the lace at the back of my dress. The back of the dress wasn’t open, but it had a lace to make it tight.

“You were gonna let him fuck you huh?” He mumbles kissing my jaw.

He locks the door and pulls his shirt over his head.

“Did you fuck her?” The words leave my lips before I think about it. I’m still high from all the weed I’d smoked.

“No.” He says pointedly. My eyes started to trail down his chest. A sight I’ve seen so many times before. “You cockblocked me”

He leans in kissing me as I just kiss back letting him take the lead.

“Did I?” I mock back. My tone is mildly condescending. My eyes glued on his. Those blue eyes piercing through my soul, he looks like he wants to eat me alive

“Yeah. How about you make it up to me, hm?” He says. His tone was ever so condescending and cocky.

I hadn’t even known he’d be at this party. And that makes me think, he was never the type to drink, so he was probably wanting to get laid.

But why wouldn’t he just call me?

I also hadn’t seen Nick or Matt anywhere, so I would assume that he’s here alone.

He hadn’t told me he’d be here. And honestly, I wouldn’t expect him to. After all, I still hate him, and he obviously hates me.

Before I can reply to his question his lips crash on mine again. My arms wrap around his neck, his hands firmly on my waist.

He pulls away from the kiss. He leans down to the hem of my dress to pull it over my head. I slip out of the dress as he just throws it somewhere carelessly. It landed next to his discarded shirt.

“Want you to ride me Ma”

“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. Looking him over. He starts to undo his jeans sliding out of them.

He looks over my lacy panties and matching bra. They’re plain black and simple. But Chris likes them.

Chris likes my body, but he hates me.

Before I know it we’re on the bed, Chris under me. I hover over his dick, as I slowly slide down in it.

I watch as Chris sighs throwing his head back further into the pillow under his head watching me.

“You like that?” I scoff. My words come out more rough and disgusted than I intended. He just.. god his existence pisses me off.

“Yeah ma,” his tone is sharp from the heavy breaths he’d been taking.

I lean down to him to kiss him. His hand stays on my waist while my hand is on his chest the other one next to his head to steady myself.

He suddenly grabs my face, holding me by my chin. I look down at him waiting for him to talk.

“Where you gonna fuck him like this too?”

He asks his tone sharp still. But now because he is disgusted and angry, not because he’s breathing hard.

“No. Fuck me like you mean it”

He snaps staring back up at me. He lets go of my face pushing me back. I scoff leaning away to sit up again. His hand goes back to my waist waiting for me to move.

I start to move on it again. Slowly grinding into him. My hand which had been next to his head, trails from his collarbone down his chest to his abdomen. Until I pull my hand off of him.

I start to bounce on it more. Now, not just rocking my hips, but fully riding him.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

I hear his breaths get sharper again. His hand trails lower to my hips as he starts to pull me down, intensifying my movements.

I can feel him hit my cervix with every thrust. This angle is heavenly.

The harder I start to ride him, the harsher his grip on my hips gets.

I feel a knot building In my stomach. My movements get sloppier as a result. My eyes shut for a moment as my mouth falls open.

Suddenly I feel a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes snap open as I glare down at Chris.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He says lowly, his voice gruff and laced with lust

I feel him start to move me more than I move myself. “Fuck- Chris” I breathe out as I fall forward. My hands landed on each side of his head to steady myself. My moans echoed through the room.

He starts to fuck up into me. thrusting into my core, while moving me on him to watch his pace. His eyes are locked to where we connect, to where he is fucking me.

“I’m so close-“ I breathe out staring down at him. His pretty blue eyes meet mine again.

“Go on. cum for me, slut”

He starts to pick up pace even more, if that was even possible. The eye contact makes this just that much more intense.

He glances down at my lips and then licks his own. My mouth falls open in a silent Moran watching him, not daring to close my eyes.

At this point, I had fully drowned out the sound of the music from the party downstairs. It was already only a mild hum as we got upstairs. But now this intense feeling of being filled like this was making me forget anything and everything, other than the boy currently under me.

“Come” he demands. I feel another harsh slap on my ass, making y body jolt.

The knot in my stomach snaps. My entire body tenses and I struggle to keep myself up

But Chris holds me in place as he fucks me through it, the continuous brush to my cervix only intensifying the pleasure further.

He slows down, not moving anymore as I come down from my high. This type of high felt better than any drug ever could.

I sit up wincing at the fact that he was still buried deep inside of me.

“Should’ve known I was gonna end up fucking you anyway” he chuckles watching my expression.

He pulls me up slightly, his length slipping out of me. before abruptly switching our positions. He is now on top of me staring down at him.

He taps my arm grinning. “Turn around for me Cherry.”

Cherry, a nickname he had given me when we were just six or so. I’d been eating a bunch of cherries that summer. Chris had loved the fruit, but he hated me. So to mock my love for them he started calling me Cherry.

And it stuck. His brothers also called me that. And then later my other friends. And then basically everyone I knew, and was close to.

It was a cute nickname. But the nickname was born out of hatred and annoyance. Even tho Chris had loved cherries as much as I had, he’d pointedly stopped eating them after that year of my obsession with them.

I’ll see him sometimes have one, but he would never admit that he still liked cherries.

I hum still catching my breath as I turn around.

I prop myself up on my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder. His hand rubbed over my ass. Him deliberately running his length up my slit to coat it in my juices again.

He looks up his eyes meeting mine. And before I knew it he was ramming into me. My eyes widen as I turn to look back in front of me. He immediately picks up a steady and fast pace.

Fucking into me from behind. My core was throbbing around his length, either from too much stimulation, or too little..

He starts to rock his hips into me harder. My moans echo through the room loudly.

My arms start to shake as I struggle to keep myself up.

He grabs my hair roughly, putting it into a makeshift ponytail. He starts to pull on it, using it both as leverage, but also to hold me up.

“Such a tight cunt, all for me” he chuckles using his free hand to spank my ass again.

I clench at the dirty words. And the way his low voice is laced with so much obvious arousal and lust. And the way he is thrusting into me from behind.

If I had to guess I’d probably say, anything from behind is his favorite. Doggy, face down ass up, whatever.

I don’t know if that I’d because he doesn’t want to see me, or if he is just an ass guy, or both, but it doesn’t matter, since it feels good.

He slams into me harshly again, before stopping his movements. I groan in annoyance. I feel the knot in my stomach fades.

Was he fucking edging me now too?

“C’mon” he says harshly slapping My ass again. “Work that ass”

Before I know it I’m already moving. Thrusting my ass back into him. Twerking back on his dick. He tugs at my hair again. I feel his stare at my ass. He was probably looking over the way his big dick disappeared into me.

“Yeah, good girl,” he says in that low sexy tone. His hand moves out of my hair, tailing down to my waist. His other hand trailed from my hip to my waist too.

Suddenly he holds me still and starts to thrust into me again. His thrusts were seemingly harsher than they were before.

I squeal out a moan, my head turning to look over my shoulder.

His pretty eyes focused on my ass. His grip was harsh on my waist. He lets out harsh breaths.

I feel him move slightly, readjusting, his hand going to the small of my back to arch my back slightly. His thrust picks up again and I instinctively Lean lower. My hands quickly guided out making my face fall onto the pillow.

But instead of trying to get up again, I simply lay my upper body down, my arms wrapping around the pillow.

I moan and whine his name over and over again. He has the best mix of sweet and dirty talk. Always degrading but also praising me at the same time.

My back arches back into him “Chris- I’m close” I whine loudly getting cut off by another string of moans leaving my lips.

“Hold it.” He grits out. His hips snap into me harder. His dick grazed every spot making me feel like I’m in heaven. “I’m close too”

The sound of skin clapping and the dirty wet sounds coming from my cunt is loud. He slaps into me repeatedly, my eyes starting to water from the effort it takes not to come at the spot.

“You’re not gonna come before me” he demands his thrusts getting more sloppy and messy. I can feel his dick twitching inside of me as I know he is close too. normally he'd just let me whenever, but it was really dependent on his mood

“Understood, be a good slut and listen ‘aight?” He scoffs his grip on my waist bruising.

I throw myself back in him, meeting his thrust.

“Yes, god- please” I whine. And suddenly I feel Chris’ hips stutter. With one last thrust, I feel his load spill into me.

I continue to move myself back against him tho, feeling my own orgasm wash over me.

He pulls out slowly, but not really gently. He watches for a moment as our combined juices leak out of me.

I sigh heavily trying to catch my breath as I lay down on this stranger's bed fully.

I turn to my side for a moment. Chris rubs over my side and back. He leans down leaving a short peck on my ribs. Caressing my skin.

My eyes meet his again, and he looks… cold.

He doesn’t look like he’d just fucked me. He just looked at me blankly. The caressing didn’t feel like it was out of care and a will to comfort, but rather a force of habit.

He gets up from the bed, and I just watch him as he gets some tissues cleaning himself off quickly before getting dressed again.

I sigh turning full onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. This would be when he leaves.

Fuck, what if Evelyn noticed me going upstairs with Chris?

She knows we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. But I can’t just explain everything to her, it’s a secret. Id have to come up with some excuse and-

“Get up” his harsh voice breaks me out of my trance, my head snapping towards him.

“What?” I ask back flatly, my mind not registering why he is still standing there with his arms crossed.

I feel a chill run up my spine from how cold and uncaring he looks with that glare. The one he always gives me when we’re arguing.

“Get the fuck up? Did you lose that many brain cells?” He scoffs looking back at me.

I glance down at my nude body and then back at Chris. I try to get up as carefully as possible. Trying to get as little as possible of our juices onto this stranger's bed.

I mildly struggle to stand, leaning back at the bed frame to keep myself up straight.

He looks almost proud of the state he put me in. But the disgust in his eyes is stronger.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

My tone is low but still harsh. I close my eyes for a second, sighing in annoyance.

He looks around the room, before fining and picking up my previously discarded panties.

He licks his teeth for a second before huffing.

He opens them for me. I raise an eyebrow, but ultimately just step through the thong, my hands on his shoulders for support. I let him Pull it up.

Cringing at the feeling of the lingering creampie and the fabric on me.

He wasn’t gonna a bother cleaning me?

“Go on.” He huffs looking back into my eyes as I look into his.

“Walk downstairs, go back to that party, back to that dude. Let him fuck you.” He shrugs his words harsh. He back up slightly looking down at my thighs where he can still see the juices run down my thighs.

“I’m sure you’d like having more than one guy cum in you, right?” He mocks leaning into me again. His glare burns into my face, making me feel like I’m naked, which I am.

“Since you’re such a slut, you probably wouldn’t mind fucking more than one guy right?”

He scoffs leaning away abruptly.

I look at him. My shock subsides as a glare settles on my face. I get that he likes degrading me or whatever, But does he actually think I’m that much of a slut.

“Go on, cherry.” He scoffs tilting his head as he looks over his shoulder his gaze locked on mine.

Why does he always have to ruin good moments?

“Fuck you, Chris.” I say back harshly my tone purely rude.

“Oh, you already have.”

I pause dumbfounded.

I didn’t mean it literally. But I mean I had done that, literally.

The harsh smack of the door catches my attention. I lock back over at the door.

He had left.

God, in hindsight that was a stupid insult. I could’ve said something more creative.

I purse my lips staring a f the door. Before my eyes trail over the now-empty room. The room was pretty neat, except for my clothing scattered around.

Right when I think I tolerate him,

Right after he makes me feel so good,

He’ll do the simplest thing,

And ruin it.

God I hate him.

Masterlist

A/N: looks like this is going to be a series lol

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin

[mieldreams]

The Interview

Summary: An Interview with your co-star and childhood friend in the early 2000s.

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x reader

Warning: Crack.

A/n: the warning says crack because that's what I was on when I wrote this. more on that later.

*Set sometime in the early 2000s (possibly 2003) after the release of Life as a House and AOTC*

“—Next up we have a special and highly requested interview with Miss Y/N Y/L/N and Mr. Hayden Christensen! They starred together in the 2001 movie ‘Life as a House’ and have previously worked together on the Canadian TV show 'Higher Ground'. And after a quick little commercial break, they are going to be answering some questions sent to us by their fans! Isn’t that exciting?”

Your ears perked up at the call of your name, immediately snapping to attention and smiling politely as the cameraman pointed the camera for a shot.

“Oh, very. We love our fans and it’s nice to hear from them.” The camera switched from the interviewer to show Hayden answering.

 “Yeah, it is. We’ve actually never done this, I think. So I’m kind of excited.” You said with a small smile on your face which quickly turned a little mischievous as soon as the cameras cut to the commercial.

*The cameras cut for the commercial*

“I hope they have some fun questions,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the camera and the crew, “I’m actually looking to get revenge on this guy here.” Hayden rolled his eyes jokingly and turned to you.

“You can’t seriously still be mad at that.” He chuckled.

“I am, actually. And I fully intend on making you pay,” you replied in the most serious tone you could manage.

But before he could reply, the interviewer interrupted, “Oooo what’s this I hear about revenge? Something scandalous we wanna share with the world?” his face had a curious expression.

“It's nothing too serious–” Hayden started,

“—uh, yes it!” you interrupted, manners be damned, the world has to know what a cruel friend your co-star is.

“Do you wanna tell them or should I?” you turned to him with raised brows.

“So basically,” Hayden starts with a defeated sigh, “Y/N here thinks I ruined her one chance at “true love”,” he made finger quotes in the air, “by introducing her—”

“by betraying me—”

“—by introducing her to Ewan McGregor.”

“You did NOT just “introduce” me!—” you shook your head in offence.

“He DRAGGED me to meet him even though I wasn’t ready!” you pointed at him with an accusing finger while looking at the camera crew and then at the interviewer.

While your voice took on a higher pitch to make your words sound as accusing as they did, and your face held an expression of the most genuine-looking offence, your body was quite relaxed, leaned back in your chair with your ankles casually crossed while your hands moved animatedly to emphasize your words. And that was all Hayden needed to see to know you were only pulling his leg.

So he replied with a laugh, “I just introduced you!”

“Uh yeah before I was actually prepared to meet him. I looked like a hooker caught masturbating in church with the way I stuttered and couldn’t get a single whole sentence out the entire time” Hayden and the interviewer immediately burst out laughing at your choice of words while you shook your head, your hands covering your face in embarrassment.  

“And when did this happen?” asked the interviewer, still chuckling.

“A few months back – at this party with all the Star Wars folk. It was a little bit after episode 2 came out.” Hayden answered.

“So if it wasn’t for Hayden’s bad timing, would Miss Y/N have tried to shoot her shot with Mr. McGregor?” the interviewer tried digging further into this little piece of never-heard-before “drama.” 

“Does Ms. Y/N have a crush on Mr. McGregor? And be honest!” the interviewer laughed.

You blushed at the question, a tiny smile appearing on your face that you made sure to hide by averting your gaze to your fingers picking a thread on your dress’ hem, “Uh...no,” you answered truthfully, fully aware that he was a married man and the Hollywood vultures that were always hungry for gossip and drama would definitely turn a harmless joke into some petty story about infidelity or worse, “I wouldn’t have done that. I mean, look what happened when I simply stood next to him! It is true ya girl is an Obi-girlie through and through, but she is not a smooth talker unfortunately.” You shook your head with an expression of exaggerated regret and pity, making the interviewer giggle.

“And how do you feel about that Mr. Christensen?” the interviewer raised his brows at the man beside you, who had surprisingly gone quiet while you had been trying your hardest to not blush and giggle while giving your answer, memories of your unholiest thoughts repeating in your head like a broken record player. (Can you be blamed really? Have you seen him in Shallow Grave? And Moulin freaking Rouge? Oh my god—)

Hayden simply tilted his head slightly towards the interviewer, you assumed he was playing the usual ‘pretend you don’t understand’ card that you both primarily resorted to when it came to vague but definitely not vague relationship questions.

But you were wrong, both ways. Because while that’s what he would have done had he heard the question, he was instead lost in the flashback reel his mind was playing — of the very night he had mentioned. Of how he may have stopped breathing when he first saw you standing across the room in that glittery short black dress. Of how he most definitely stopped breathing when his gaze travelled up your body only for you to turn, your eyes meeting his with a technicolour kaleidoscopic flash in his brain. Of how he felt a blackhole open up in his stomach when your perfectly painted red lips immediately stretched into the most dazzling smile when you realised it was him, and how quickly you had excused yourself to start walking his way.

And turns out the interviewer had, in fact, not been alluding to some “secret affairs” between you and Hayden either (as the magazines always called it, though you never understood how it could be an affair when neither of you were in another relationship, not that you kept tabs on his relationships or such things) as he clarified, “what do you think of the fact that Miss Y/N is an “Obi girl” and not an Anakin fan?”

And while you could have corrected him on how you never said you were not an Anakin girl, you were too curious to know his answer so you remained mum.

 His memory reel ended abruptly, having to force a laugh to buy some time to think about his answer. If he answered too seriously, it could fuel the rumours but if he answered too casually it could fuel the rumours. He knew he couldn’t let any of his actual thoughts be known, not knowing what to do with those feelings himself, let alone trust the world with them. If he had maybe a 0.002% chance by himself, he’s sure the rumour mills would churn it down to a negative statistic. Not that he had actually thought about those calculations before, or any sorts of chances at all for that matter. No, he had never thought about just one chance for the hundred different ways he could love you or just one chance for the thousand different ways things could go wrong, what with both of your popularity and how you seemed to be two people worlds apart in your ways.

There was this queasy feeling in his stomach — odd ball of jealousy? No, definitely not. It couldn’t be. Probably just the milk he had that morning, maybe he should check the expiry date of his dairy more often.

“Um...” he shook his head while forcing a small smile on his face, “honestly? I get it man. Obi Wan’s pretty cool, eh? I mean Ewan McGregor’s definitely got the style. He’s so fun to work with and uh.. yeah, I get it. I get it.” Honestly, he himself didn’t know half of what he was saying, he just wanted to get started with the interview.

And maybe the stars were on his side that day because someone from the crew spoke up,

“Guys, so the commercial’s closing, the cameras and crew are ready. shall we start?”

“Yes.” Hayden replied a little too quickly while you nodded in agreement.

“So, we’re back after the break, and we’ll be starting with the first question to—,” the interviewer started, “– Hayden. From 10-year-old Leni Schmitt, she’s from Germany and she says, “Dear Anakin, why did you kill all those women and children when they didn’t kill your mother? I don’t judge you because sometimes my classmates annoy me too. Did those children annoy you?”

Hayden, who wasn’t expecting such a question looked at the interviewer with his mouth dropped open in shock, eyebrows raised while you sit beside him with a similar expression which you school immediately, or at least try to, but only end up having to cover up your amusement and surprise with a fake cough and clearing of your throat.

“Umm...” Hayden briefly looked at the floor, trying to come up with a suitable answer to this child’s question, he then turned back to the camera, “you see Leni, Anakin is a guy with very big emotions who isn’t allowed to talk about them openly, often. He’s a little conflicted and hurt after what happens to his mother and doesn’t know what to do. So he makes a few wrong decisions and does a few wrong—”

“—murderous” You whisper under your breath which you cover up with another cough, smirking off to the side which earns you a side eyed glare from Hayden who continuous like he never heard you.

“—things. I think he’s a good lesson that we should talk about our feelings first, even the ones that hurt and feel bad.”

“I agree, well said.” The interviewer nodded his head, switching to the next card in his hand. “This next question here, is for Y/N. It’s from 7-year-old Nancy from America. She says, “Dear Nancy, my name is Nancy too.”

“Hello, Nancy” you waved at the camera with a warm smile, understanding that the child was referencing to one of your older movies, where you played a young girl from the 17th century, named Nancy.

“I think you’re really pretty and very amazing. You’re really smart and strong and look very cool with a sword. I know pirates are supposed to be the bad guys but I want to be just as brave and smart as you when you grow up. When I grow up, I want to study space and stars too.” The interviewer continued reading from the card while you melted in your chair from the girl’s sweet words.

“PS. Can you please tell Mom and Dad to get me a sword for Christmas too?” The interviewer read with a laugh to which you chuckled too.

“First of all Nancy,” you turned to look at the camera again, “I can tell that you’re already very brave and amazing and smart. And I think it’s really amazing that you want to learn about space and stars, it’s a very cool subject.” You nodded your head with an encouraging smile, “as for the sword…” you titled your head towards the camera, dragging out the ending of the last word, “maybe you don’t need a sword because you’re already so cool. I needed the sword to fight to protect myself, but maybe you can become so smart that you don’t need one.” You hoped that the answer was sufficient for the little kid and that her parents weren’t cursing your name for their child’s slightly difficult gift wishes.

“Though swords are cool, no?” Hayden interjected with a teasing smile. You turned to give him a look with narrowed eyes, as if to say 'do not fuck with me.'

“Yes, but definitely not as cool as being really smart.” You said with strained laughter and an exaggerated smile into the camera. If the child wasn’t convinced, you were sure her parents would be sending you hate mail next for their kid’s less-than-convenient demands, so you turned to Hayden with wide eyes and an expectant expression.

“...Hmm you’re right.” He finally caved with barely contained amusement on his face, looking right into your eyes. “Nancy is really smart. And she’s really cool and really pretty too...” he broke his stare to turn to the camera, “so maybe she’s right, you don’t need a sword to be cool.” He shrugged his shoulders in a casual way.

“I’m always right.” You stuck your nose in the air and turned away from him with faux arrogance, his lips lifting in amusement as you both looked ahead waiting for the next question, except it wasn’t a question card that the interviewer held up.

“So we know we said we’re gonna have you guys answer questions from your fans,” the interviewer seemed to be holding a sort of small photograph, something like a standard 4 × 6 inches album size, but it was turned so you could only see the blank side, “but we’re your fans too, so we have a question as well.”  

Hayden chuckled at that while you nodded your head, “Shoot.”

“So we have this photograph here,” the interviewer turned the photo around to show it to you both and then to the camera while your expressions immediately changed to that of surprise.

“Oh, wow. That’s really…” Hayden trailed off, still looking at the picture in surprise but now with a growing smile.

“Old.” You finished for him. “How’d you even manage to find this?” you asked.

“We have our sources.” The interviewer laughed and replied in a secretive way.

“No seriously how did you manage to find this? This was what? At least four or five years back. We look like babies!” you said, laughing in disbelief. “Can I see that please?” You wanted to look at the photo up close, the nineties quality not doing much for its clarity.

He hands it over to you and you let out a small gasp, leaning over to Hayden to show it to him as well. Your shoulders touched as you leaned together over the photograph, his fingers brushing yours as he tilted the photo to see it better.

The photo was one from the set of higher ground. It was of you and Hayden – asleep together in the highback armchair of the “common hall.” You were cramped together on the small single-seater chair, sitting side by side. Though practically, you were on his lap sitting perpendicular to him, with his feet on the floor while your legs went over his and over the arm of the one-seater couch. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck while his head was leaned on yours, one arm wrapped around your back and the other rested on your legs while yours lay over his stomach. You were essentially squished between him and one arm of the chair and it looked somewhat uncomfortable in the photo, however if your memory served you right, it was one of the comfiest places you had slept.

“—in his arms” The Voice echoed in your brain. “Shut up,” you told The Voice.

The interviewer brought your attention back to him with a question, “So this is you two on the set of…” letting his sentence fade to let you complete it.

“Higher ground” you and Hayden replied at the same time as you left the photo in his hands to sit up straight again.

“And can you tell us more about this photo?”

“Um, yeah. This was, if I remember correctly, this was from the set of higher ground – it was the day we had to film those hiking scenes in the forest. This was towards the end of the day, I think. we were really exhausted.” You turned to look at Hayden as he replied, lifting his gaze from the photo to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, um, funny though because I had no idea this photo existed.” You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess the rest of them were planning on pranking us or something.”

“Clearly,” Hayden replied with a chuckle of his own, turning the photo to the camera again and pointing at all of your cliffhanger castmates gathered around the couch you both were sleeping on, each of them making funny faces at the camera.

AJ and Jewel were both holding uncapped markers in their hands, leaning over the sides of the couch with mischievous grins, their childish prank obvious. Kandyse and Meghan were standing behind the couch, with Kandyse smiling at the camera and Meghan looking down at the two of you while Jorgito and Kyle were posing in front of the couch. Kyle pointing at the two of you with one hand and making a shushing gesture with his other, and Jorgito was simply smiling at the camera holding a peace sign with his fingers.

You were honest about being completely unaware of the existence of this photo and judging from Hayden’s reaction, he was too. It made you nostalgic even though it was hardly a few years back. Your experience on the show was monumental in shaping your acting skills, specifically with how complex and flawed your character was. You remembered having a lot of fun with your castmates and feeling really good about the kind of story you were involved in showing the world. And since you and Hayden had already known each other from acting school, it made working together on set that much easier (though most people believed you to be fun and outgoing, you weren’t the biggest talker around new people).

The photo was so unexpected however, and you felt yourself get a little self-conscious at the thought that along with you, the whole audience that was watching would now be privy to it. As if the constantly churning rumour mill of romance and drama didn’t put out enough accusations of affairs and secret admirers on the both of you, this was truly the last thing you needed the world to see – you and Hayden in an embrace that looked far too familiar, as if you held each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms every day —which you didn’t. No matter how many times you daydreamed about it when you looked at his arms – his warm palms that were so much bigger than yours, the veins on the back of his hands that disappeared into his thick forearms or his strong and broad shoulders and how you’d wish time would stop whenever he hugged you in greeting. But it didn’t matter. You were friends. That’s it.  

You turned to look at Hayden’s face only to realise he was actually saying something to the interviewer and you barely caught the last of his sentence, agreeing to something about his penchant for playing troubled and conflicted characters, including his character in the show. You felt guilty for spacing out and that made you feel more embarrassed, shifting in your seat to get your head back in the room and trying to clear your throat as quietly as possible.

Your movement, however, caught Hayden’s eyes and his eyes immediately shifted to you, meeting your gaze before shifting again to look you over once, to see if there was something wrong. When he didn’t find anything obvious, he looked back into your eyes, not stopping what he was previously saying but looking at you with a questioning gaze. The attention only flustered you further, so you quickly shook your head as discretely as possible to let him know you were fine but mostly to get his goddamn piercing eyes off of you, you were surely going red in the face as it is.

Thankfully, your reprieve came in the form of the next question from the interviewer.

“So the next question, is for Y/N, this is from 22-year-old Mia, she’s from France and she says “Dear Y/N, I really loved your work on ‘The Venue’, the ease with which you portray both the complex psychological conflict of the character as well as the almost euphoric seeming dissociative state she’s in throughout the movie has immediately made me a huge fan of yours. I can’t wait to watch the sequel! But I want to know – is there anything in the movie that you improvised or any part of the character that you made up yourself?”

You had picked up the glass of water in front of you to take a sip during the question, leaning forward to put it down but instead Hayden gets it for you with a simple, “here let me,” his hand brushing over yours while handing you a tissue for the water you had spilt on your dress in your hurry to put the glass down. You thank him then lean back in your seat to look into the camera with a small smile, “I’m glad you enjoyed my work Mia, thank you. To be fair, most of the ease came from just how well written her character was; so if there’s anyone to truly appreciate, it’s the writers. They helped me to really understand the nuances of her character, specifically emotionally. As for improvisations, yes actually. I did improvise some of her lines, mostly the ones with Chris Pine. With the kind of relationship those two characters had and with the help of our brilliant director, it felt natural really. Plus, Chris is an amazing actor and the chemistry these two characters have is truly something, it definitely keeps you hooked.”

“Speaking of chemistry,” the interviewer started, “this next question’s for the both of you—and this I think pretty much the entire world is eager to know at this point” the interviewer looked up from the card and paused for dramatic effect “are you two dating?”

Hayden sighed in resignation, leaning forward to pull something out from his pant pocket while you let out a joyous laugh, tilting your head back and pumping your fists in the air. He proceeded to pull out his wallet and take out what looked to be a local library card while you made grabby hands at him with a devious toothy smile. The interviewer could only watch in confusion and mild amusement as Hayden reluctantly handed over the card to you.

When you both settled the interviewer couldn’t help but voice his curiosity about whatever just happened in front of him.

“Um…” Hayden started only to be interrupted by you,

“—this is basically one of my revenge plans,” you answered with an all too pleased smile on your face.

“One of? Really?” Hayden asked with a groan tilting his head back, “heavens help me.”

“Heaven only helps NON traitors Hay–bae” you teased with narrowed eyes and your still present smirk. “You wouldn’t know.”

 “I feel out of loop here, and I’m really curious so” the interviewer interrupted, pointing between the two of you “What is this revenge? Was that some sort of credit card…? Is the plan purchasing something really expensive with it?”

“Oh no no no, that would be—” you shook your head with a devious smile.

“—far too easy for her.” Hayden completed with an eye roll. “She took my library card. Her “revenge” is that she’s gonna order a bunch of really embarrassing stuff from the local library—”

You immediately started the list on your fingers, “porno magazines, questionable movies and toddler’s picture books, maybe I’ll try to order banned videos, it’ll be a real fun combo–”

“There would be kids watching this interview too, you know?” he interjected with a sigh.

“Sorry kids,” you winced at the camera, “but anyway– maybe I can order like pregnant mom guides and cult rituals instruction tapes, if they even have those—”

“And then she’s gonna make me collect them, in person,” he rolled his eyes, “cause she’s a cruel person who wants to traumatise the poor old woman who works there,”

“She’s seen things beyond your comprehension, Hayden.” You said in a jokingly patronizing tone.

“And how would you know that? What are you, friends with my local librarian?” he questioned incredulously only to receive a small shrug in response. He looked at you in bewilderment, “Oh my god? When-? How even?”

You scoffed, “We’ve known each other since we were kids, dude. You’ve lived there all your life, and she’s worked there all ours.” As if it was the most obvious explanation.

“Anyways,” you continued, “then I’m gonna make him return those things, in person, only after a week of displaying them in his house for everyone to see of course.”

“I’m not displaying them in my hou–”

“Oh hush, this is my revenge. I’ll say what to do.”

“Well,” the interviewer tried to get the interview back on track, “all the best for that. Now, shall we continue with the ques-”

Hayden leaned forward to grab his bottle of drinking water, your childish antics flustering him this time.

“Not doing it.” He whispered under his breath as he tilted his head to take a sip. You turned to look at him, ready to fire your own retort but stopped short at the sight of his side profile – his perfectly sculpted nose, his stupidly gorgeous long lashes that fluttered every time he blinked. Your gaze then fixated on his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, so full and pink and inviting as they slickened with the water, which then brought your attention to his throat, his prominent adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he drank, his thick neck that looked like the most tempting canvas to paint with the print of your lips.

Your gaze lowered to his wide shoulders that stretched the sweater he was wearing before you realised what you were doing and quickly looked away, clearing your throat which unfortunately got his attention. He turned his head and your eyes met over the bottle that he still drank from and it felt like the whole world stilled for a moment before you had to look down again, feeling as if he might read you immediately, only to see his fucking neck bared enticingly again.

You leaned a little closer to him just as he finished drinking and put the bottle cap back on. sitting right next to each other, it was as if there was some sort of magnetic pull making you gravitate towards the other. You licked your lips, then bit your lower one, a hard-to-kill old habit, his gaze drawn to the movement before he looked back directly into your eyes.

What seemed to you like a moment that lasted forever, was in reality just a few brief seconds of definitely-not-drooling-over-him and way-too-intense eye contact.

“We’ll see.” you whispered with a subtle smile and a sparkle in your eyes then leaned away again, back from his personal space that you seemed to have forgotten about for a second.

He quickly looked to the interviewer and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to place the bottle back, “I’m sorry, we seemed to have gotten sidetracked. Y/N has the attention span of a goldfish.” He joked. And just like that you were back to your usual dynamic.

“If I have the attention span of one, then you have the memory of one.” You replied with a huff and a dramatic eye-roll.

 “But to appease your curiosity, we basically had a bet going on.” Hayden continued.

“That he lost.” You continued with a smug thumb pointed at him.

“That I lost. We made a bet that we would get asked this question. I guess I naively assumed that rumours of us dating would be considered long dead and everyone would have moved on from this topic. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He said with a nonchalant expression that barely hid his discomfort at the topic.

“So then, should we tell them?” you turned to look at him and wiggled your eyebrows with a teasing smile. Your expression then turned serious as you tilted your head towards the camera, the smile wiped from your face, “should we tell them?”

Hayden was still leaned back in his chair to your left, while you sat at the edge of yours, your body entire turned to face his.

He merely shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say, “Your call.”  

You looked down for a second, cleared your throat then looked back into his eyes again, “We are—,” you turned to face the camera then turned your body towards the camera entirely as well, leaning ahead and further away from him while he still looked at your face, “—not. We are not dating.” You said shaking your head with a little laugh.  

“But,” you wiggled your brows at the camera this time, “I still won the bet! So guess who’s getting special treatment tonight? It’s ya girl!” your thumbs at yourself and did a little shoulder shimmy, “and what’s that special treatment going to be you ask?” You continued the conversation by yourself, your voice taking on a suggestive tone with the raise of a brow, “Of really tasty food of course! And hopefully an even tastier dessert.” You laughed, looking back at Hayden this time, who was shaking his head with a fond smile that you don’t notice, because as soon as you turned to look at him he put on a faux thoughtful expression.

“Hmm… I don’t know. I don’t remember agreeing to dessert in the bet.” He looked at you with a small smirk.

Your head whips to look at him with a comically shocked expression, “Dude! You can’t be serious!?”

“Oh, but I am.” And his face held a calm and composed expression too.

“Oh my god, you promised me—” you start.

“I never promised—”

And your bickering fades as the video cuts off with the screen going blank.

The camera zooms out of the TV screen that had been playing the video.

“So, Y/N–”

“Yes, Tim?” your voice is light, going along with the joking tone of conversation the interviewer set.

“It’s been ages–what, like 15 years?” he asks.

You do the quick math in your head, “A little more than 15, yeah.”

“Wow. More than 15 years! It’s been wonderful watching you grow up to have such a prolific career.” He adds.

“Thanks, Tim. I’m really lucky to have gotten such opportunities.”

“15 years–wow. So, the first time around when we filmed that interview with you, when I interviewed you, we didn’t get to show it to the world–” he points to that same TV screen while you shake your head in confirmation.

“But now, we got to show it for the first time, even if it’s 15 years late!” he laughs. “So Y/N, from then to now, what’s changed?” he questions in a curious tone.

“A lot, Tim.”

You sneak a longing glance at Hayden who's sitting beside you on the couch before looking back at Tim. “A lot.”

“I mean–” you lift your hand, wiggling your fingers to show off the small sparkling diamond on your left ring finger. An uncharacteristically quiet smile graces your face as the audience erupts into screams in the background.

sooo it's been two decades... who's ring do we think it is? Hayden's? or did some other lucky guy shoot his shot first and win?? will we ever find out?? if it's not Hayden's should we change that??? 👀

ps: if anyone's confused about how they were sitting in the photo it's something like this but they're sitting on one of those single armchair types so they'd be forced a little closer so more like this or this (with ur butt on the cushion itself cuz you're still! just! friends!!!)😏😈

A/n: aight so when I said I wrote this on crack didn't mean literally ofc. (though I might as well have been, considering how stupid this is lol)

I wrote this ages ages ago when I watched a bunch of 2000s HC edits and got crazy stupid embarrassingly obsessed with him (again) so I just had to channel all that into some cringe thing. so here it is. after rotting in my drafts for so long. idk might take it down later we'll see. but for now y'all have her (even tho nobody asked for this so im sry)

I had only written this for shits and giggles so if things don't make sense don't bother telling me I already know.

But if you enjoyed it do like and comment! xx

[formylovetodaryldixon]

“When you finally came back.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

After escaping from the saviors, Daryl and you finally meet again to stay together this time. And there, alone, your husband gives you a letter that perhaps expresses a little of what you mean to him.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote looong time ago. This is literally my second try to write smut, but I don't do it often because I feel i can't express properly how the characters feel :( But I tried, so I hope you like it AND the letter Daryl gives to you. Thank you!

We’ll find a way to get you back. Okay? Just be strong, please. The only thing he can’t take away from you is your strength. So you just have to prove them you are stronger than them.”

With the light steps of a professional hunter, like the most dangerous and silent animal, that predator that doesn't make the slightest noise before catching its prey, Daryl walks through the empty halls, in the middle of those cold and gray walls. The small chance of escaping from that place is shaped as a key, hiding in the pocket of the trousers he stole from Dwight’s room, not without destroying his carved figurines on the table first. Daryl is agile to avoid the saviors, deathly silent as he takes that pipe, running down the last aisle before turning in the right corner to leave the place, hiding his face under a cap.

Finally, Daryl opens the door to get out of the building, running to the first bike on the line full of them.

“What the hell…” Fat Joey looks at Daryl, who looks at him back, holding a calm, but completely threatening look. “Wow. Wow…” Joey drops the half of his sandwich and raises his hands in the air, just to show he is harmless. “It’s cool. I swear…”

Daryl approaches him, slowly, his gaze fixed on the frightened prey in front of him.

“Buddy, you can walk down that back gate there and I won’t say anything to anybody. I’m supposed to be there now, but… listen… I… I’m just trying to get by, just like you… Please…”

But, with a contained fury that surpasses human strength, Daryl lifts the pipe and smashes it into Joey’s head, again and again, and again. He remembers the brutality with which he was treated, the fear, and the anger that explodes inside him right there, letting out all the pain in the most inhuman way possible.

Turning around the corner, Jesus runs to him from behind some trucks, stopping at the bloody commotion.

“Daryl…” Jesus says, but Daryl doesn’t stop while the blood splashes on his clothes and part of his face. “Daryl!”

Like being pulled out of a trance, Daryl finally stops, looking at what is left of Joey.

“He was jus' walkin’ by here… but it ain’t 'bout gettin’ by.” He breathes out, dropping the pipe. Rick’s gun is hanging from Joey’s waist and Daryl takes it, straightening up himself to look at Jesus. “Ya know anythin’ 'bout ma wife?”

“Yeah. Carl said she’s fine so don’t worry. You will be with (Y/N) again very soon.” Jesus looks at Joey quickly before looking back at Daryl, still surprised by what had happened.

Daryl nods absently, thinking about you as he walks again to the bike.

“I got the key. Let’s go.”

As the others enter the Hilltop through the tall wood gates, your owl brooch slips from your shaky hand in the middle of your way. You are nervous, and you stop yourself to pick it up. The brooch has two silver owls sitting on a branch, and it might have been cheesy if you had received it in the old world you used to live in, and although Daryl said that too when he gave it to you, the gift was a reminder of him.

Finally, you walk through the open gates, but stopping yourself again as you hold the brooch a little harder when you see Daryl pulling away from Rick’s hug when he looks at you. Rick smiles before patting his best friend’s back so Daryl can walk to you, without stopping for a single second. You feel the tingling in your chest, something moving inside you, like the flapping of thousands of butterflies. Then, he picks you up from the ground, taking you in a warm embrace as you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck as his strong arms around your back hold you tight. Still holding the brooch, you hide your face in the crook of his neck as you feel a total relief to see him safe.

A breath of air for the times you two stopped breathing, hearts beating again for the times they stopped beating, bodies aching for the time you two were apart.

“I made it, peach.” Daryl says, breathless, pulling apart just a little to look into your eyes. “I made it thanks to ya.”

But you shake your head, pushing his hair away from his eyes.

“You made it because you’re strong.”

Then, Daryl smiles softly, finally in peace before kissing you.

After the failed attempt to convince Gregory to fight against Negan, fighting against the urge to shoot him when he found a polite way to tell you all to go to hell, while using the back door of the Hilltop, you all go to see King Ezekiel looking for help, guided by Jesus and his good intentions, but that doesn’t work either. King Ezekiel wanted to give asylum to Daryl, but he rejected it believing that the lack of strength from the king against the saviors wasn’t going to help you all beat Negan and his sadistic people.

It was a waste of time for Daryl, so with all of you standing in the middle of the street in the Kingdom, he puts his hand on your lower back to make you turn, pulling you with him to get out of there. One by one, the group walk to the exit too, plunging into a new kind of disappointment.

“Hey. Open it up!” Daryl says to the man in charge of the front doors. “We’re gone.”

The gates make a metallic sound and it opens for the group who walk out of there.

“You’re not.” Rick says to Daryl, and in the middle of his confusion, Daryl takes your hand to stop you.

“I ain’t stayin’ here.” He says looking at Rick, his accent getting thick, his voice deep but full of frustration.

“You have to. It’s the smartest play. You know it is.” Rick places his hand on Daryl's shoulder, trying to tell him with words and a kind look that this is what he had to do. “Try to talk to Ezekiel. Whatever it takes. We’ll be back soon.” Rick walks out of the kingdom, looking at you both before the doors closed. “We’ll come back for you two.”

Alone in that unfamiliar place, Morgan guides you two to a room so you both can rest. Your spirit is more tired than your body, so you say thank you before following him, with Daryl taking your hand to let himself be guided as well.

Uneasy with the lack of support, but not wanting to say anything because more negativity is not going to help save the situation, you lie back in bed on your right side, kicking your boots off first, head on the pillow, your disappointed gaze lost in the window. Daryl closes the door, locking it before approaching the bed as well, taking his boots off as well before lying on his side so he could look you in the eyes this time.

"We will going to be okay, right?" You ask, in a small voice.

His hand looks for the warm of your body, your soft skin under your black t–shirt, smiling at the contact he missed so much.

"We will, peach."

The sunlight comes in, the garden is green on the outside, people’s voice passing by the building, thinking they will be safe forever. Even if Daryl doesn’t want to stay there he had to. It was necessary for him to be safe from the saviors. However, now, he seems to enjoy your hand massaging his hair. His eyes are closed, grunting softly once in a while every time you touch a good spot. Everything seems to be okay when the world is as quiet as it is right now, without the endless grunting of the walkers, nor Negan’s voice that had no mercy.

“Stop thinkin’ 'bout it, peach.” Daryl says softly, opening his eyes again, taking your hand away from his hair to hold it in his. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

He watches the ring in your finger, the place where it belonged to, and then, Daryl finally looks at you for real. This time, for a moment at least, there is not a shred of shame in his gaze, exposing himself completely to you, as he did every time you two were alone, because it was easy for him to be who he really was with you. Your love was the kind of love he never thought he would get, or deserved, but there you are now: loving him like no one else ever did.

“I got somethin’ for ya…” His hand leaves yours, looking in the back pocket of his pants. But suddenly, it is as if a feeling of vulnerability comes over him as Daryl pulls a folded sheet of paper, handing it to you as his blue eyes sparkle with a new kind of shyness. “S’somethin’ I wrote for ya… ’bout ya, actually.”

You smile at him before looking at the paper, but without opening it yet. You know Daryl never was good with words, even when there was so much he wanted to tell you, so you understand that he decided to write those feelings down. But they weren't even a quarter of what he really felt for you.

“Can I read it now?” You look at him kindly, giving him the option to be there or not if he wasn't comfortable with it. "If not, I can wait until I'm alone."

“Ya can read it.” He gets closer to you, pushing you softly for you to lay on your back, climbing on you, his nose brushing your skin as he starts kissing your neck, his hand caressing your side. “I'll entertain myself with somethin’ else.”

You love the sudden hot feeling, the tickling between your legs in anticipation, the need to have him close again.

“That’s not fair, you asshole.” You chuckle, trying your best to read the letter.

Daryl loves the aggression, chuckling too against your skin as he pulls himself lower, just to meet your most sensitive and still covered area. His hands look for the bottom and the zipper of your jeans, pushing them out of you with your underwear lock in his fingers. You try very hard to concentrate on reading, trying to understand the messy words on the paper, but when Daryl buries his face into you without a warning, just to devour you completely, earning a moan form your closed lips, it is impossible to do so.

His hot tongue moves against you, kissing and licking and sucking, sending a vibration with the low grunt he makes and that travels through your entire body, so intense that you have to hold onto his long hair to keep your balance, so that your bent legs wouldn't give in with everything he’s giving you.

Your back arches, overwhelmed with the thousands of different sensations that hits you right there. The cold air mixes with the heat emanating from his tongue, as hot as your body starts to be, so hot that you think it is hell itself. The view of the roof is replaced with darkness behind your closed eyes, mouth finally open as the pleasure is starting to make you see stars.

For a second, you think he can make you come with just that, just like the previous times he did it, but now it is because it had been a while since you two made love, your body extremely sensitive to his touch. And right there, your sex is throbbing painfully, waiting impatiently for him to be inside you.

“Daryl, please…”

He can hear the plea in your voice, so full of desire that he can feel it right in his hard member. Daryl licks and tastes one more time, his warm hands holding your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth to get you ready. Daryl loved that feeling every time he ate you out, to know only he could take you so high with only his tongue, listening to those sinful sounds from your precious mouth, but as he rises on his knees, his hands catching the buttons of his shirt to remove it, Daryl and his ego love the view of you.

“Take off yer t–shirt.” He says low, and it is not a warning but a promise. “This ain’t over yet, peach.”

You lick your lip but you do as he says, sitting on the bed before taking the t–shirt out of your body, your bra next, with him loving the view of your naked and soft flesh. But as he finishes the last bottoms and while feeling bold, you lean forward, your hands finding the belt of his pants, mouth close but holding an innocent smile as you undo it.

“Only ya can be hot and cute at the same time, woman.” Daryl grunts. “Now lay back and lemme feel what I've been missin’ all this time.”

You lay back down, watching your husband take off his pants and his boxers, like the hottest imagine in the whole world. Daryl is hot, with his broad shoulders, the tattoo in his chest, his strong arms, calloused hands that always touch you softly. And when he is completely naked, he lays on top of you, feeling the beating of your heart in his own body, with you bending your legs at each side of his waist and hips, feeling him pushing himself inside of you.

He is thick, and he fills you completely, reaching places you are dying to feel him, and then, your moans and his grunts are silenced when he kisses you, finally moving. Your hips receive the movement of his, pushing himself even deeper, one hand on your cheek, the other holding himself at the side of your body.

You feel his length beating inside you, your walls squeezing around him, making him grunt against your parted lips. The feeling inside you intensifies with the minutes, with the swaying of his body and yours, your hands hugging his back, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

Daryl rests his forehead against yours, breathing through his parted lips.

“That feels good?” He asks, and you nod, drowned in the sensation to form a word. “Lemme feel ya, peach. I really need ya right now.”

He chokes with his own words, looking at you with eyes full of lust, between the strands of hair that fall over his forehead, but when you think that can’t get any hotter, Daryl brings two of his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them before pressing them against your clit, rubbing the area, hard and fast, causing you to cry his name.

And he fucking loves that. He would gladly drown in your voice calling his name.

The sensations and the sounds are making him mad as he feels close to his climax, pressing himself into you even harder, deeper and faster when he feels your inner walls clenching against him. You feel close too, and it takes you seconds to finally cum letting out a cry, feeling him release inside of you with one long push.

Daryl buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, moving slowly as you two enjoy the hot feeling leaving your bodies. You stroke his hair for a while, just to give him some comfort.

And after a while, he pulls away to look at you, so close you feel his nose brushing yours, with him smiling at the contact. Daryl strokes your cheek softly, making you smile too. His touch is always soft, it is sincere, just like his love for you.

“I love ya, Mrs. Dixon. Yer the only one for me and it’ll be like that for the rest of ma life.”

After saying that, Daryl presses his lips against yours, and it melts you like honey, so sweet like his love for you. He came back to you to stay for real this time, and as he falls sleep on his side after a while, dressed again, pressing his body against yours, you take the letter which was forgotten next to the pillow.

His handwriting was always messy, and you used to tease him about it, but now, it makes you hold the air inside your body as you start reading.

Ma lil’ angel:

Awake or when I can sleep, I’m always dreamin’ ‘bout ya. Sometimes, I dream ‘bout meetin’ ya in the old world. I wish I could have found ya there. Our life together wouldn't have been perfect but I’d have worked hard to give ya all the things ya deserved, I’d have done everythin’ to make ya the happiest woman in the world. I know someone like me couldn’t have offered ya much in that world, fuck, I can’t offer ya much in this one either, but I promised ya I’d protect ya from everythin’ and Imma keep ma word, ‘cause now I can’t live without ya. Ya always were a sweet thing to look at, and even when Carol used to make fun of me when she caught me doin’ it, I couldn’t stop. But even now, when in ma mind I see the ring in yer finger, I still can’t believe ya’re really ma wife. I never told ya this, but when ya said yes, I promised God I would never let ya go. And now, ya’re stuck with me forever ‘cause thanks to ya I started livin’ and not jus’ survivin’. So yeah, ya’re ma life, ya are the peace, the sun, the moon and all the fuckin’ stars in the diamond sky as ya call it.

It was nice to find someone who loves me like ya do, even with ma temper. I love ya, peach, so much, and I’m sorry I don’ say it often. Ya know I’m bad with words, but I’ll try to be better.

Yours, Daryl Dixon.

@fluffy-dixon

[heizlut]

Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq

I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x

jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)

Jinx

cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread

a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao

[stancestanomaly]

Horse Riding lesson! 🐴

Wrote a short scene for this cause my mind wouldn't stop replaying it over and over while I worked this.

-

Struggling against the rag that bound his hands behind his back, he tried to ignore the chuckle from the man who put him in this position. "Stanley! Y'know this was not what I was referring to when I asked for your assistance when learning to ride a horse!"

"Aww, sug'r~" Stan's throaty purr sent a wave of heat up Ford's spine. "This is gonna help ya, you hafta learn to stay on yer mount if ya gonna be ridin' it."

"Then why must I be in your lap, instead of practicing on an actual horse? And why do you insist on chewing on that?"

"Becuz darlin' it's like chewing gum in a way." Stan pinched the wheat between his teeth. "And the last time you tried to ride a horse, you ended up in the horse's trough. Remember?"

"Don't remind me," Ford groaned as another chuckle tumbled from his brother. "But I don't see how your argument counters, the fact that I can't practice on a real horse."

"N' all honesty, I'm all the practice yur gonna need. Y'know I got all the horsepower." He ran his hands up Ford's thighs as he moved to give his butt a squeeze. "I mean, I know yur buns do~"

"St-Stanely," Ford gritted his teeth, as blood rushed across his face.

"Wha? Ain't like I'm lyin', I can still hear yur pretty voice singin' my name as we fucked n' the barn." Caressing his twin's sides as the memory replayed.

"And I still remember all the prude language that left your mouth too," Ford grumbled at the strong hands that danced along his trunk and ushered forth another wave of satisfying warmth.

"N' I still remember how disheveled yur hair was while your face was redder than that time ma got mad at us for playin' in mud after she just washed our clothes."

"I also remember dad chasing us because they were our good clothes too," he smiled as the sound of Stan's laughter rang in the air, like music to his ears. He listened to the tune a little longer before he cleared his throat. "So about my lesson, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure am darlin'," Stan spat out the wheat before he leaned up to capture his brother's lips. Stan strummed Ford's cords, drawing out lustful melodic moans as he stuck his tongue into Ford's mouth. Joining in on the song libidinous desires. He bucked his hips to usher out another chorus of bubbling lust between them.

Pausing their record, Stan drew back to get a look at Ford as he panted through closed eyes with a cherry-red bridge stretching across his face. Admiring how the sunset streaming through the widow panted his brother's features.

"I say we take this to the bedroom," Stan purred, tightening his hold on his brother. He stood up from the couch, tossing his brother over his shoulder. "Alrighty cowboy, let's go give ya that lesson~" Smacking his brother's butt as he sauntered to their room.

"St-Stanley, w-wait, this isn't what I was referring to!" He squirmed, as he was carried out of the den, up the stairs, and down the hall toward their room.

"Stanleeeyyy!" Ford shouted as the bedroom door was shut and locked behind them.

-

Had a ton of fun writing that, lol. This is my second time drawing ranch life/cowboy 30!stans. (Honestly, I should draw them more often. Because Stan's with that hair is doing something for me🥵.) The first time I drew them was two years ago for another set of Halloween stancest drawings I did. The drawings. I had liked this au idea so much that I wrote a fic about it but never actually finished it😅 So maybe I'll do that sometime soon... Anyway, have some ranch life stancest! 🧡🤎

[notjustjavierpena]

I’ve been binge reading your amazing husband!javier series and it makes me feel soo 💕💗💞 but what i’m very curious about is inés! i don’t think (unless i missed it) that you ever wrote anything about when inés was born!! just curious on javi’s reaction to having a girl. girl dad javi for the win. that’s it. that’s all.

Girl

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I so hope that this is what you had in mind, anon-sweetheart. This is the best I could do 🥺💖❤️

Summary: A glimpse into how Javier handles Inés, his two days old daughter.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, descriptions of a postpartum body, Javier loves his family, Javi POV, newborn bubble, bit of angst, life with a tiny baby!!

Word count: 2.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57176173

Girl

There are soft and fine hairs on Inés Peña’s head. Javier already finds that his favorite pastime is to run his fingers over them, feel the way they brush against his fingertips, and send butterflies through his body all the way to his heart. The gentle strokes to her head make her squirm underneath his touch, solidifying the fact that he is a father of two now, one of whom is a baby girl. 

He never quite understood the idea of wanting to take a bullet for someone until he became a father to Lucas. It makes him feel slightly bad about the stress he must have caused his father back in the day, running around intentionally seeking dangerous situations all the way into adulthood. He supposes that it’s payback that Lucas already causes him stress from merely existing and he has to force himself to give up control once in a while when Lucas wants to independently try new things that might get his knees scraped literally and figuratively. He knows it’s ridiculous to think that maybe it’ll be different with Inés because he has a certain idea of how it will be to be the father of a girl. You’ve laughed about that already, told him that sometimes it can be even worse with a girl. 

A girl.

He weighs the meaning of this, has been aware of the new responsibilities that follow with having a daughter since he held Inés in his arms for the first time. A nurse had handed her to him whilst you got some much-needed rest and he had been floored by emotions that shot through his body. He had never thought much of the significance of raising a daughter before she came into his life screaming but feeling her skin against his own made his mind spiral. How stupid a man he is, that he ever thought it wouldn’t be much different than what he has gone through with Lucas, and whereas he still looks forward to the day of her first smile, her first step or her first word, a special kind of dread follows him around as he looks down at her now. The world is so cruel for someone so tiny and frail, someone bound to be met with challenges he’ll never understand. It’s a different kind of need to protect; it’s instinctual, intense, and utterly consuming. What about her first party? Her first job? Her first boyfriend? What about all the things that only you can help her with? Oh God.

He huffs out a little laugh that stems from disbelief. Inés is two days old and she has already transformed him into something new. He loves everything about her: Her flat little nose, her disproportionately big hands, the details on her skin, creases on her forehead, and prints on her fingers that make her seem so real even when she doesn’t do much. He knows she exists for real because of her being soft to the touch and because of the tiny noises she makes in her sleep but it’s the feeling in his body, a buzz that he can’t explain that tells him how real. 

Sleep is all she does really, much like her older brother did during his first week in the world of the living. She has big eyes that flutter behind her eyelids as she dreams, curling up her little body to mimic the way she slept in her previous home which is your belly until she wakes up slowly with a massive yawn that makes you giggle as you greet her. 

“You are so loved, Inés,” he whispers as she coos in her slumber. He tucks the blanket around her a little more, rubbing her little belly with his fingertips, “So so loved, mi amor (my love). Mamá and I are gonna take care of you.”

He barely finishes the sentence when he feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, making him turn his head to look back at you. You are standing right behind him, smiling tiredly at him and just out of the shower but you shake your head when he starts to get up from his seat to offer it to you. 

“How are my two loves doing?” You ask softly to redirect his attention away from you but he takes you in for a moment before finding the proper response. You are in the underwear that you specifically bought for the first month after Inés’ arrival, waddling around as your body still hasn’t quite figured out that it’s not housing a baby anymore; your belly is still rounded, your skin bears stretch marks that he thinks of as beautiful as lightning on a night sky, and you move through his home with the careful slowness of someone healing. 

“Perfect,” he says when he still has his eyes on you, smiling warmly as you return it with a shy face. He turns back to look at his infant daughter and rests his arms on the side of her bassinet, “We’re perfect, ain’t we, Inés?”

“At least you are,” you groan softly, dragging the footstool from Javier’s chair towards the two of them. Your words are followed by a chuckle to hide your self-consciousness, “I don’t feel very perfect myself these days.”

Javier tuts at you as you go against your doctor’s advice of not moving things that are too heavy so soon after giving birth. He decides to move swiftly before you can protest, getting up from his seat and guiding you to sit in his chair instead. He has a warm and reassuring hand on your back as he helps you sit down, knowing that the tiredness is as much from the soreness of your back and feet as well as the sleepless nights a newborn brings. 

“Gentleman,” you note.

“You are amazing,” he stresses and sits down opposite you, not bothered at all by the new seating arrangement, “Absolutely beautiful too. How are you feeling?”

“Just a little sore, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” you admit and look past him to stare at your baby to consciously ignore Javier’s concerned eyes. You lean towards the bassinet and he decides not to get too fussy about you, just hears your dreamy voice and lets it wash over him, “Can you believe Lucas used to be this size?”

Javier shakes his head as memories of Lucas’ early days flood his mind instead, noticing the way his two kids already look a bit alike. He scoots his seat closer to yours and takes your hand without saying anything, “Yes and no, it feels like it was only yesterday. Can’t believe he’s running around now, stressing his father out like that.”

You put a hand on your belly as you giggle quietly, moving slowly to rest your cheek against the side of Inés’ bed and only wincing a little. Javier squeezes your free hand but you choose to tease him instead of acknowledging his concern, “This one will too, you know. Enjoy this moment while it lasts.”

“I’m trying but I really want to pick her up all the time,” he tells you with embarrassment. He wants to press his nose into the top of her soft head and inhale that distinct smell that all babies have, the one that seems to be holding him hostage in a bubble of sentiment. 

“You can’t,” you scold playfully, “She needs rest and so do you.”

“Fuck, lo sé (I know),” he nods understandingly but he has the kind of longing that only a newborn can cause to a parent, “Pero es tan perfecta (But she is so perfect).” 

“También será perfecta cuando se despierta (She’ll also be perfect when she wakes up),” you remind him and pull his hand to your lips to kiss it, showing him a sort of affection that only you have ever brought him.

“Perfecta como tú (perfect like you),” he charms with no other endgame other than seeing your mouth pull into a little smile, cheeks warm from his love. 

“You clearly need a nap too,” you say in your motherly voice, hiding your face from him and trying to play the fact that he still makes you feel like a teenager off, “Gotta sleep when the baby sleeps.”

Javier finally tears his gaze away from his beautiful infant daughter. He sits up straight and watches you mirror him with hidden discomfort. He could continue his playful reluctance to get up from his seat but seeing how tired you look despite your best efforts to hide it from him makes him a little more serious. 

“Alright, you win,” he lets go of your hand to hold his hands up in mock surrender, earning a quick and affectionate roll of your eyes. He’ll read your mind like this and adjust accordingly, happy to play the fool if it just ends in your comfort, “I’ll behave myself if you take a nap with me.”

“That’s a deal,” you agree and put your hands on your knees to stand. 

Javier rises from his seat and holds out his hand to help you, shaking it a little when you don’t immediately take it. However, when you do and haul yourself up from the chair, a relieved expression crosses your face when you can support your belly while he supports your back. 

He guides you across the floor to the bed, chest feeling alight with his affection for you as you get comfortable under the covers. He dares a last glance at his daughter before joining you, lying down face-to-face with you and tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You smile with heavy lids, placing your hand between your heads so he can take it. 

“You rest,” you tell him as he curls his fingers around your wrist instead, rubbing your delicate skin with his thumb. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into the quiet room. 

You furrow your brows while smiling, “For what?”

“For giving me my family,” Javier drags your hand to his mouth, returning the kiss you gave him earlier. It’s so gentle because you are so sensitive everywhere right now, body filled with overwhelming hormones and overstimulation, “You’re a pretty big factor in its production, you know. I just… did what I do best.”

“Javi,” you avoid his eyes, focusing only on the slightly dirty joke by chuckling. 

“No, I mean it. Look at me,” he continues and only goes on when you give in and find his eyes. He places your palm against his cheek, “You are a brave woman. And so strong. Your body is so powerful.”

You swallow hard, clearly affected by those words because he knows the journey to receiving the gift of Inés has been a bumpy one. You both try not to think about that one particular night. You brush his cheek with your thumb, “Thank you, baby. And thank you for being such a wonderful father.”

It’s Javier’s turn to look away. He exhales deeply through his nose, “I don’t know about that. Do you think I’ll be whatever she needs?”

“Of course,” you turn your hand to run your knuckles along his face instead, “What are you worried about? Look at Lucas.”

“There’s so many things I’ll never understand being her father,” he says regrettably. He can feel his blood pressure spiking just thinking about the fact that someone will try to limit her for simply being born a girl. He thinks about his past, guilt rising in his throat at some of the things he has done during his years in Colombia when he jumped from bed to bed which now seem starkly at odds with raising a strong woman. 

He closes his eyes briefly, a deep crease on his forehead showing you that this is not just a passing thought but something that has been rooted into the bottom of Javier’s mind. Inés being born has simply triggered it to come out. He is struggling before you, feeling the weight of his newfound role as a girl dad. 

“You know, having a daughter is very special,” you say without getting a reply. 

His thoughts drift to the challenges ahead, imagining the countless ways society might try to define or confine his daughter. The world, he knows, can be goddamn unforgiving if he doesn’t live up to his responsibilities of teaching her resilience, to empower her to navigate a world where she might face things that he will never fully comprehend but will lie awake over if he misses the severity of them.

“Hey, heyheyhey. Javi,” you make him snap out of it, scooting closer to run your fingers through his hair. Your voice is soft and tender, “Where did you just go?”

“It was so easy with Lucas, I know, but I can’t help but worry if I’ll do wrong by Inés,” he confesses quietly, ashamed of these intrusive thoughts, “If I’m a good example of a man.”

“You are a fantastic father, Javier,” you stress and give him a sweet smile, a twinkle in your eye as you talk, “Wouldn’t have let you marry me and make babies on me if I didn’t think that you were a good man, you know. Give me some credit for choosing you.”

“You knew how to pick ‘em, huh?” He says with a smile, reassured. 

“And I should know about horrible fathers, baby,” you bump your noses together with a little laugh, “But seriously though. You parent with compassion and love. I wish I had had you growing up and I’m a girl, so yes, my opinion matters.”

Javier's smile widens, the tension in his shoulders easing as he listens to your words. He’ll always feel undeserving of your unwavering belief in him but right now, he just lets it soothe his soul.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” he murmurs and pulls you into an embrace, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that turns into several loving ones, the two of you using the little amount of free time you have to enjoy each other. Your belly touches his stomach which drives him crazy, your scent is everywhere, and he pants softly when the kissing ends.

“As long as I am half as amazing as you. You’re such a natural. I don’t know how you do it,” he says and gives you one last longing kiss. He gently runs his hand over your still-rounded belly, the skin marked with stretch marks, “I’m in fucking awe of you, Mamá."

"It’s just instinct, Javi. We both have it.”

“Don’t downplay it. You are the best mother they could ever–” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence when Inés makes a noise of complaint. He tenses up and listens, his eyes going toward the bassinet. You both hold your breath, waiting to see if she’ll settle back into sleep or if she needs attention.

When the soft whimper doesn’t turn into a more insistent cry, you are the first to speak. You tease lightheartedly, “See? Instinct.”.

“You know what? I’m just gonna check on her,” he carefully disentangles himself from you and moves over to the bassinet. You watch as he leans over and he can feel your gaze in his back as he watches Inés' chest rise and fall slowly. The joy of reunion is just the same each time he goes to look at her. Did the two of you really create something so incredible? He sighs in relief and reports to you, “She’s fine, probably just dreaming.”

“She’s asleep,” you pat the bed, “Now, come back to bed. I want you to hold me before Chucho drops Luke off tomorrow and we have to be four people in here.”

“No more quality time with my girls,” he pouts theatrically as he gets into bed again. He scoots closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. 

“We’ll have plenty of quality time, just a bit noisier,” you say with a soft laugh. You nestle against him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace. 

“Christ, I love you,” he whispers into your hair.

“Mhm,” you kiss his chest even if it’s on top of his t-shirt.

As you drift off to sleep in his arms, Javier feels excitement when he thinks about spending his first day as a family of four with you. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, so he falls asleep until he is needed, knowing he’ll be there in less than a heartbeat.

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