#my awkwardly forced edits

[riddlerosehearts]

constantly rotating these two in my brain like a microwave

[greengoblinswifey]

When I Met you in that Hotel Room- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet Nicholas Chavez during a solo vacation at a hotel pool. your flirtation quickly escalates into a passionate night together in his hotel room.

warnings— explicit content. unprotected sex, daddy kink, degrading kink, praise kink, ass slapping, possessive!nicholas, reader has a clit piercing, creampie, cockwarming, rough sex, oral(f receiving)

You had been enjoying the peace and quiet of your solo vacation. It was your second day at the hotel, a much needed break from everything at home. That night, after a day of exploring, you decided a swim was exactly what you needed before heading to bed. Wearing nothing but your bikini, you grabbed a towel and made your way to the pool.

As you walked through the hotel hallways, you stopped to take a selfie. The lighting was perfect, and the glow in the hallway made your caramel skin look radiant. You snapped the picture and sent it off to your little sister. She’d be thrilled to see you finally taking some time for yourself. Moments later, you felt your phone buzz in your hand, but before you could check it, you noticed a guy walking in the same direction as you.

He wasn’t bad-looking, in fact, he was really attractive, and you noticed he was glancing at you. He was tall, with brown eyes, and as you caught his gaze, you could tell he was checking you out. It wasn’t creepy, though. He seemed, intrigued. His eyes trailed over your body in your bikini, but he wasn’t being sleazy about it. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Not to be that creepy guy at the hotel, but you’re really beautiful,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice deep and smooth.

“Well, you’re a little less creepy now that you’ve said that,” you teased back, trying to play it cool even though his compliment made your heart race a bit.

You both realized you were heading the same way and fell into step together. As you approached the elevator, you noticed how close he was standing to you, the air between you buzzing with an odd, electric tension. He was definitely throwing glances your way, and as the elevator doors closed behind you, it felt impossible to ignore.

You stared at the floor, trying to keep your cool. To break the awkward silence, you glanced at your phone, where a flurry of messages from your sister had come through. You furrowed your brow, confused as to why she had texted you so frantically.

Sis, OMG, do you know who that is?!

That’s Nicholas Chavez!!!

PLEASE ask for a picture!

You frowned, not immediately recognizing the name. Who was Nicholas Chavez? Before you could piece it together, another message from your sister came through with a TikTok link. You clicked it, and to your shock, it was an edit, a fan video of the man standing right next to you. The very same Nicholas Chavez. And oh my God, he was an actor? A famous one, apparently.

Your eyes widened, but you forced yourself to stay composed. You didn’t want to freak out or fangirl. In fact, you hadn’t even heard of him until just now. Instead of saying anything, you put your phone away and focused on the present moment.

When you arrived at the pool, you dropped your towel on a nearby chair and took off your robe, revealing your bikini-clad body. As you stepped toward the water, you heard a sharp intake of breath behind you. You turned to see Nicholas, Nicholas Chavez, you reminded yourself, standing still, his eyes fixed on you. He was clearly trying hard not to stare, but his gaze kept drifting over your figure.

You smirked at his reaction and chuckled softly. “See something you like?” you teased, your confidence boosted by the way he was looking at you.

Nicholas flushed a little and quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before finally taking off his shirt. And holy shit, he was hiding all that muscle under there? Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, your heart racing. His body was even better than the TikTok edits had let on. You could feel the heat between your legs growing at the sight, and you mentally cursed yourself. Not now, you thought, trying to get a grip.

You both slipped into the pool, swimming to opposite ends. The cool water did nothing to calm the heat between your thighs. As you floated there in silence, Nicholas spoke up.

“I’m Nicholas, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Nicholas. I’m Y/N,” you replied, your voice carrying softly across the water.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, his voice sounding sincere as he moved a little closer, cutting the distance between you.

You smiled softly, feeling a strange connection beginning to form between you two. There was something about him, beyond the fact that he was famous, that was pulling you in. The chemistry, it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

The water felt cool against your skin, but the heat between you and Nicholas was undeniable. You stood there, trading glances, eyes locked, neither of you willing to break the tension. He moved closer, his body cutting through the water with an effortless grace. You could feel your heart beating faster with every step he took toward you.

When he finally reached you, his hand gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest. His gaze dropped down to your lips, and instinctively, your eyes flickered to his.

God, kiss me already, you screamed internally, your breath catching in your throat. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours, but he stopped himself. You could feel his breath against your skin, and the tension was nearly unbearable.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice husky, filled with restraint.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. But before he could make the move, you grabbed the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling him in, your back pressing against the pool wall. The space between you vanished as his lips found yours, slow and deliberate. The kiss was deep, full of need but laced with patience, as if he wanted to savor every second.

You let out a soft moan against his mouth, and that sound seemed to do it. His body pressed into yours, wet skin sliding together as you reached up to grip his hair, pulling him in closer. The kiss intensified, deeper, hungrier, as you devoured each other. His lips moved against yours in perfect sync, the taste of chlorine and desire mixing together. You couldn’t get enough.

Nicholas groaned as your bodies molded together, your hands tangling in his damp hair, and you tugged him closer, wanting more, needing more. His hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he pushed his hips against yours, leaving you breathless.

Finally, you both pulled away, gasping for air, eyes searching each other. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

"Do you want to come up to my room?" he asked, his voice low, filled with urgency.

You hesitated for just a moment, your pulse racing as the weight of his words settled over you. But the way he looked at you, the way his lips were still swollen from your kiss, made it impossible to say no.

“God yes,” you whispered, nodding.

Without another word, you both grabbed your towels, hurriedly drying yourselves off as you made your way to the elevator. The air between you buzzed with excitement, anticipation simmering. You could barely keep your hands off each other as you rushed inside.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Nicholas had you up against the wall. His hands were on either side of your head as he kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that sent a surge of heat through your body. You groaned into his mouth, and he responded by slipping his hands under your ass, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back.

You could feel the hardness of his bulge pressing between your legs as he pinned you to the wall, his body grinding against yours. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses, and you let out a breathless moan as you tilted your head back, giving him more access. His hands gripped your ass tighter, pulling you closer as you rolled your hips against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through your swimsuit.

“Fuck,” Nicholas groaned against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You grinned, tugging at his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you teased, your voice breathy as you ground against him harder.

His hips bucked against yours, and you could feel the rough fabric of his swim trunks pressing against your core, and it only made you want him more.

“I’m gonna do a lot more than that,” he growled, his lips crashing against yours once more, leaving you dizzy with need.

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had reached your floor. He didn’t even wait for the doors to open fully before he carried you out, still kissing you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were breathless, panting against his mouth as he carried you down the hall to his room. The door clicked open, and you both stumbled inside, the tension only growing with every second.

He set you down just long enough to rip off his swim trunks. The sight of him, of his sculpted, wet body, made your knees weak, and you bit your lip, trying to suppress a groan. His hands were back on you in an instant, pulling you to him as he kissed you hard, backing you up toward the bed.

Nicholas gazed at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled your bikini top aside. His hands gently caressed your breasts, and he let out a soft groan. “Your tits are perfect, your whole body is perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling your cheeks flush from both his words and the heat radiating between your bodies. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a laugh bubbling from your throat as the tension momentarily lightened. He chuckled softly with you, but it quickly faded into another passionate kiss.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting as he left marks on your skin. Each graze of his teeth sent shivers through your body, and your moans grew louder when he reached your breasts, his mouth closing around one of your nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, hands gripping his hair as you held him against you.

Nicholas wasn’t done. His kisses traveled lower, leaving a trail as he moved down your stomach. His lips brushed over your navel piercing, and then lower still, to your bikini bottoms. You bit your lip, anticipation building as you watched him.

He pulled the straps of your bikini bottom down with deliberate slowness, revealing more of you. The moment his eyes landed on your clit piercing, his breath hitched audibly. He looked up at you, eyes blazing with lust.

“Fuck,” he swore, licking his lips. “Like I said, you’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “After tonight, no one’s gonna see that pretty pussy,” he paused, his fingers brushing over your clit piercing, sending a spark of pleasure through you, “or that fucking clit piercing. Only I will.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a wave of arousal through you, and you bit your lip, already dripping with need. His words were enough to make your body pulse with desire, but you had no time to react before his mouth was on you.

He wasted no time, his lips pressing against your core, tongue darting out to taste you. The moment his tongue flicked over your clit, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through your body. He worked you with expert precision, alternating between long, slow licks and fast, teasing flicks of his tongue over your piercing. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as you bucked your hips against his face. “Oh fuck, daddy,” you moaned without thinking, and the moment the word left your lips, he groaned into your pussy.

His tongue worked even faster, and he pulled back just long enough to look up at you, his chin glistening with your arousal. “You little slut,” he growled, eyes dark with lust. “Calling me daddy, making a stranger eat your pussy? You like that, don’t you?”

You whimpered, the words sending a thrill through your entire body. “Yes, oh, fuck, yes,” you panted, not even caring how desperate you sounded.

He grinned, the smug look on his face making your heart race. “Good girl,” he purred, before diving back in. His tongue circled your clit relentlessly, and your moans grew louder as you felt the pressure building inside you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Fuck, daddy, m’ so close,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He growled again, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. With one final flick of his tongue, the tension snapped, and you came undone beneath him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Cum for me, baby,” Nicholas whispered against your pussy, and you cried out as your orgasm rippled through you, your thighs shaking as he worked you through it.

As your breathing slowly evened out, he pulled back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you… only I get to see that,” he murmured, his voice full of possessive satisfaction.

You lay there, panting, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. But even in your blissed-out state, you managed to smirk up at him.

“Maybe, daddy,” you teased, “if you’re lucky.”

Nicholas smirked at you, eyes dark with lust. “Oh, if I’m lucky?” he echoed, his voice dripping with dominance. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “If I���m fucking lucky? No, I said no one else gets to see you like this.”

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, ruin every other man for you,” he growled. “Ruin you for every other man.”

His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper as his eyes raked over you. “I’d let you suck my cock like the whore you are, make you swallow every drop of my cum, have it simmer inside you,” His fingers lightly brushed over your trembling body. “But I need that sexy little pussy first.”

You watched as he reached to grab a condom, but you quickly stopped him, breathless. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered, biting your lip. His reaction was immediate.

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement as he tossed the condom aside. “Fuck yes,” he growled, and before you could react, his hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing too hard, but enough to make your pulse race. He dragged his tongue up the side of your face, groaning like a man possessed. “I’m gonna fuck you raw, baby. You’re mine.”

You shivered as he positioned himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes widened when you looked down, suddenly realizing just how big he was. You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing your face. He noticed and paused, leaning down to kiss you softly, his lips gentle against yours. “It’ll fit, baby,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “I’ll take care of you.”

Before you could respond, he thrust the tip inside you, and the feeling had your back arching instantly, a loud scream escaping your lips. The stretch was overwhelming, filling you in ways you hadn’t imagined.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothed, his voice deep and husky as he kissed along your neck. “It’s okay, you can take daddy’s cock. Be a good slut and take it for me.”

You nodded quickly, your breath shaky as your legs trembled. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning your legs behind your head, spreading you wide for him. The position gave him deeper access, and you gasped as he slid further inside, filling you completely. His cock throbbed inside you, every inch making you feel deliciously full.

He didn’t stop there. With a low groan, he started to move, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. His hand moved down between your legs, fingers expertly rubbing your clit, the piercing catching the pads of his fingers. The combination of his cock and the relentless stimulation of your clit was almost too much.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his hips moving faster. “This pussy was made for me, only me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this.”

You moaned loudly, your body trembling beneath him as the pressure built inside you. “Daddy!” you gasped, your hands gripping his arms tightly.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his thumb brushing over your piercing again, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “Cum for me. Be a good slut and cum for daddy.”

Your legs shook violently, and you felt the tight knot in your core finally unravel. With a loud cry, you came hard around his cock, your pussy clenching tight as waves of pleasure washed over you. He groaned loudly, thrusting deeper into you, riding out your orgasm as you trembled beneath him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, watching your body convulse from pleasure, his fingers still teasing your oversensitive clit. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Nicholas kissed your neck again, his lips trailing down your skin, sending shivers all over. Without warning, he lifted you properly, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. With one powerful thrust, he slammed you onto his thick cock, the sudden stretch making you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god,” you moaned breathlessly.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Not God, baby. Me,” he growled, gripping you tighter. “Your daddy. I’m the one fucking this pussy. My pussy.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer, as he held you there, trembling. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, stretching you out, filling you to the brim. Slowly at first, he started moving, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his cock. Every powerful thrust made your body jolt, your voice growing louder with each movement.

“Daddy,” you screamed, grinding against him, desperate for more. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, and you felt yourself nearing that familiar edge, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck, yes, grind on me, baby,” he panted, slamming you harder onto his cock. Your body responded, and before you could even speak, the pressure inside you erupted. You screamed, your entire body shaking as you squirted all over him, your juices splashing down his abs and dripping down his legs.

He groaned in pleasure, looking down at you with a grin. “Such a good girl,” he rasped. “Such a dirty little slut, squirting from a stranger fucking you.”

Your breath was still shaky, but he wasn’t done. He placed you down on the bed, but before you could even arch your back, he grabbed your legs. Your body hovered off the bed, only your upper half resting against the mattress, and he positioned himself behind you. Without hesitation, he thrust deep inside, slamming into you relentlessly.

You screamed in pleasure, feeling him reach so deep inside you, your moans echoing through the room. “Does daddy’s dick feel good?” he growled, slapping your ass roughly, his grip on your hips tight.

“Yes, daddy! Fuck me harder,” you begged, your voice barely coherent through the pleasure.

He responded with even deeper, rougher thrusts, his cock hitting all the right spots. You moaned louder, overwhelmed by the intense sensation, your body rocking with each thrust. When he slapped your ass again, you couldn’t hold back, and your body exploded once more, creaming all over his cock as another orgasm tore through you.

He groaned, his pace faltering as he followed right behind you, his thrusts becoming erratic. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up, spilling deep inside, making you tremble in pleasure as your body relaxed.

Nicholas collapsed onto the bed, pulling you on top of him, your bodies still connected as he cockwarmed you. His hands gently cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, his lips brushing over them. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft now. “You’re so beautiful.”

You let out a soft hum, snuggling into his chest, feeling completely blissed out. He shifted, smiling. “I should clean you up,” he offered, his hand brushing gently over your back.

You shook your head, sighing contently. “I just want to cuddle.”

He laughed softly, pulling you closer. “Alright, baby. But we’re getting up early,” he said with a smile, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “I want to do this right. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest, the perfect end to a wild night. You soon drifted off in his arms but not before snapping the picture your sister asked for. You had to turn on DND to silence the frantic messages she sent as soon as she saw the picture.

[camryn-haitani]

Old man, huh?

Bang Chan x Reader smut

you overhear stray kids joke about how bang chan is “getting sooo old” and you decide to join in. you’re sooo gonna regret that later (no you’re not)

TW: SMUT, age gap (chan is 28 and reader is 24), cursing, established relationship (the others don’t know but they think you’re best friends), ATEEZ mentioned (wooyoung), reader calls him channie, unprotected sex, chans spanking, names (baby, doll, sweetheart, love, pretty girl, good girl), cervix hitting, teasing, fingering (fem receiving), a lil slapping, creampie, chan calling himself “old man”, oral (male receiving), slight deep throating, aftercare

BARK BARK BARK WOOF BARK WOOF WOOF i love bang chan

you’re sitting in the corner, mindlessly scrolling tiktok looking at edits of bang chan, of stray kids practice room and the sound of han’s voice catches your attention.

“oh my gooood, he’s getting old.” han drags out. “it’s sad to think my fellow aussie is climbing up the age ladder.” felix wipes his fake tears. han notices your sitting in the corner and he gestures for you to join them in teasing chan. you get up to walk over to them and stand next to lee know.

“i can’t believe im gonna be planning his funeral soon.” you say dramatically. “i could’ve swore he was complaining about his hip yesterday.” said changbin. hyunjin nodded, “a couple days ago, it was his back. i heard him crack it at least 10 times when he bent down.” he added. yall almost fell on the floor from laughing.

all of you are laughing too much to even notice chan walking up behind you. you jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder gently gripping more and more to get your attention.

“who’a complaining about a hip?” chan calmly asked, “and who’s funeral are you planning, y/n?” he gave a closed eyed smile. “uhhhh, oh what’s that, han? you need help with something?” you say as han catches your drift. “yeah yeah uhm it’s over here!” he says as yall both run out of the room. chan slowly look over at changbin and hyunjin, they know they’re next so they scramble for excuses. “oh my phones ringing,” changbin rushes to pull his not ringing phone out, “ah damn it’s wooyoung, i gotta take this.” he awkwardly laughs as he speed walks out. “uhm… uhhh… i’ll go help binnie with his phone call.” hyunjin panics. lee know and I.N just raise their hands innocently and back away.

some time passes where you completely forget about the events that happened. *knock* *knock* *KNOCK* the knocks got louder as they went. you’re kinda scared to open the door. before you can even exit your bedroom, keys jingle in the door knob. your heart rate quickens as they unlock the door and slam it open. before you can even comprehend that it’s chan, he’s all over you. big and veiny hands grip your chin and force your eyes into his.

“you want me to show you old man, huh?” chans voice deepens. you stayed silent, not knowing what to say as your panties get wetter and wetter knowing that you’re in trouble. “oh come on, pretty girl. you were talking such a big game when i was gone. speak up.” you still stayed silent, mind boggled as he continued to grip your chin. “fine you don’t wanna talk? i’ll make you talk.” chan pulls you to your couch and tugs your shorts and panties down.

your ass is now in full display for chan as your practically dripping on his pants. *SLAP* a red handprint already forming on the curve of your ass. “you wanna talk now, doll?” when you don’t answer quick enough, another slap was planted on you. chan was nice enough to rub the mark after. you were about to speak up when you felt his fingertips graze your wet pussy. you let out a weak and whiny moan. “that’s not the answer i was looking for. try again.” he retracts his fingers. you start to whine when another harsh slap was landed on your ass. “i- i was just joking, channie. please forgive me.” you plead.

“hmm, i’ll think about it.” his fingers go back to grazing your wet hole. you push back into his fingers but he immediately pulls them back. “nuh ah ahh, sweetheart. this is your punishment,” he teases, “every time you disobey me, i’ll make more handprints on this ass of mine.” chan says as he soothes where he’s already hit.

his cold rings brushing your inner thigh send a cold chill up your spine. chan puts his fingertips back to your heat and brushes them up and down, basically torturing you.

chan pulls you up after those tortured minutes and stands up. he unbuckles his belt and motions for you to do the rest. you crawl over to him and finish undoing his pants to free his achy cock. you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t look at me like that, you’re still in trouble,” he says, “i don’t care if your jaw hurts or you can’t do it anymore. you’re gonna suck my cock until i’m satisfied, got it?” he demands. you quickly nod and get to work.

you kitten lick the vein that trails along the side of his cock, putting more and more pressure the further you go up. chan lightly slaps your cheek, “no teasing me, doll, or it’s gonna get worse for ya.”

you stop teasing knowing he’s serious and finally take his tip on your tongue. he sucks his teeth and puts a hand behind your head. the further you go, the further he’s pushing your head. tears prick your eyes as his tip hits the back of your throat but you’re a trooper. you focus you’re breathing to your nose and take chan deeper. his moans get more whiny and faster as his hips move with your head. drool seeping down your chin and into the floor.

chan pulls your head back to stop him from cumming. he grips your chin again, he doesn’t care if your drool gets on his hands. “wanna see if if this ‘old man’ can fuck this pussy?” he asks as you nod your head vigorously. “i need words, sweet girl.” he said. “y-yes.” you stutter.

his ring covered fingers fall to your waist as he sets you over the armrest of the couch. he slaps your ass a couple times before molding his fingers in between the fat. his hand falls on your spine as he lines himself between you. chan coats his tip with your arousal as he purposefully bumps your clit with it just to tease you.

“chaaaaannie pleeeease.” you whine as you slightly kick your feet. “be patient, doll. the more you whine, the longer i’ll take.” he whispers in the shell of your ear. you let out a ‘hmph’ as he finally pushes himself more and more into you.

the way he’s moving is agonizing, you start to push back into him again but he gives you a slight slap. “what’d i say, baby. next time you do that, i’ll pull out and tease you more. you better be thankful i’m fucking you or else i’d leave you here to deal with this yourself. since i’m being so kind, you should thank me.”

and before you could even muster out a word, with one push he was all the way in you. your back now arched as far as it went, nails scratching the cushion, the whiniest moan drew from your lips. “i’m waiting for that thank you, doll.” he says as he trails his hand down to your ass. “tha-… thank youuuu, channieee.” you try and at least get some composure.

“such a good girl for me. since im feeling nice, ill start to move.” he draws his hips back and gently pushes back in sooo slow just to torment you.

he finally pick up the pace after you beg for a while. his tip kissing ever so roughly against your cervix to make you see white. the armrest of the couch is pressing against your stomach just enough for you to feel chan even more.

his hands land more harsh slaps against your ass and it feels so painfully good. every brush of your cervix brings you closer and closer to the edge. chan knows you and your body so well that you don’t even have to say your close, so he keeps his pace as his orgasm soon builds.

“cha-n i-im..”

“i know, pretty girl. just wait for me.”

the waves of pleasure crash down on both of you as he continues to ride his own. of course he’s an aftercare king, he cleans you with a warm rag, kisses your cheek, and puts your pants back on for you since your legs feel like jelly.

*brrt brrt brrt* you pick up the phone to answer the facetime.

han was calling.

and chan was shirtless behind you

“wait!” chan yells.

han gasps as he sees the sight of chan shirtless and your face flushed from the recent events “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. DID YOU?” he points to you. “AND DID YOU?!” he points to chan through your screen. “EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE NOW.” han yells.

“haaaaaan, don’t tell anyone. we don’t want this to get out.” you plead. “of course, soldier.” he playfully salutes. “i’ll call you later, han.” you tell him. “youuuu better tell me everythi-“ you hang up before he finishes.

“well there goes us telling them. also, i’m gonna order some food. what’d do ya want, love?” chan asks as he leans against the counter, still shirtless. “burgers sound good.” you roll over to face him. “burgahs it is.”

“just make sure there no pineapple on them.” you joke. he gives you a playful glare.

chan accidentally drops his phone that startled you since you were on your phone. yall both laugh it off when he bends down to pick it up, you hear faint little pops. you slowly turn your head to look at him with slightly widened eyes.

“ugh i swear, my hip has been in so much pain recently. i wonder what… happened.” he realizes what he’s saying. you cover your mouth in shock. “did you just say what i think you just said.”

“not a word of this to anyone.” he threatens.

“nono of course noooot.” you sarcastically say as you discreetly pull out your phone to text your secret group chat with the others minus bang chan.

Me: guys you will never believe what i heard channie say

Seungmin: girl what happened

ayen: tell us everything

- - - - -

i love bang chan so much

sorry if it’s short :(

ateez and stray kids requests are open along with my other writings

[bueckers555]

CAN’T STAND YOU — nika muhl x reader

summary: in which, you and nika show each other just how much you can’t stand one another

warnings: smut smut and more smut

authors note. part two of the pazzi x reader fic will be up soon but first, my girl nika cuz one too many angry edits of her popped up so this is what my head came up with ITS OVULATION WEEK SORRY

No one on the team could pinpoint when it started—least of all you or Nika Mühl.

Maybe it was during that first practice when you’d hustled for a loose ball and she’d beaten you to it, smirking as she dribbled away like she’d just claimed some unspoken victory. Or maybe it was the time she’d called out your positioning in a drill, her tone sharp and clipped, like you were a rookie who didn’t belong on the same court as her. Whatever it was, the seed had been planted, and it grew into something jagged and unyielding, a mutual loathing neither of you could shake.

It wasn’t loud or showy at first. You didn’t scream in each other’s faces or throw punches in the gym. It was quieter, colder— a slow burn that everyone felt but no one could fix.

You’d roll your eyes when she took the lead in huddles, her voice cutting through the air with that unshakable confidence. She’d scoff when you ran a play, muttering something under her breath about your footwork or your timing.

The team noticed, though—they always did. Paige would shoot Aaliyah a look, a silent “not this again,” while the freshmen shuffled awkwardly, unsure where to stand when the tension thickened.

On the court, it was a different beast. You were both too good to let it tank the game outright, but it showed in the cracks. During a fast break, you’d hesitate just a split second before passing to her, the ball leaving your hands with a little too much force, like you were daring her to miss. She’d catch it, of course—she was Nika Mühl, she didn’t miss much—but the glare she’d send your way could’ve burned a hole through the hardwood.

When she drove to the basket, you’d hang back instead of setting the screen she needed, forcing her to twist through defenders alone. She’d still score half the time, but the other half, she’d turn it over, and you’d feel a flicker of grim satisfaction.

“Run the play right next time,” she’d say after, her voice low and flat as you jogged back on defense. Not accusatory—just factual, like she was stating the weather. It pissed you off more than if she’d yelled.

“Maybe if you didn’t hog it, I would,” you’d mutter, loud enough for her to hear but not enough to draw Geno’s attention. She’d pretend she didn’t, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you she had.

The team adapted. They had to. Paige started calling the shots more, acting as a buffer, while KK quietly nudged you both toward open spots to keep the offense flowing. But it was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

During one game against a ranked opponent, you’d both gone for the same rebound—neither of you calling it—and ended up colliding, the ball slipping through your hands and out of bounds. The crowd groaned, and Nika’s eyes met yours for a split second, sharp and furious, before she turned away. Coach benched you both for the next few minutes, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Off the court, it was subtler but no less brutal. In the weight room, you’d push yourself harder when she was around, stacking plates on the bar until your arms shook, just to prove a point. She’d do the same, her reps silent and relentless, never looking your way but always aware. At team dinners, you’d sit at opposite ends of the table, your conversations with others clipped whenever she spoke up. The team stopped trying to force you together after a while—why bother when it always ended the same?

No one knew why it ran so deep. You couldn’t explain it yourself. She wasn’t cruel, not really—just infuriatingly self-assured, like she’d already sized you up and found you lacking. And you weren’t petty, but something about her set your teeth on edge—maybe the way she carried herself, like the court was hers and you were just borrowing space. It wasn’t jealousy; you were too good for that. It wasn’t even personal, not at first. It just was, a reflex neither of you could unlearn.

By the time that bad game rolled around, the tension had a pulse of its own. You’d both been off: your shots rimmed out, her passes sailed wide. The mistakes weren’t all on one of you, but it didn’t matter. Every missed opportunity became a weapon, every fumble a reason to point the finger. The final buzzer sounded, and the loss sank in, heavy and bitter. You caught her eye as you walked off the court, her expression a mirror of your own—frustration, blame, and something darker simmering beneath.

The team saw it coming. They always did. But this time, when the locker room door swung shut behind you, it wasn’t just another cold standoff. It was the breaking point.

The locker room was suffocating with tension after the game—a brutal loss that left the team reeling. The scoreboard had mocked them: 72-68, a four-point deficit that felt like a chasm.

Everyone knew who’d been at each other’s throats all night: you and Nika Mühl. The star guard’s fiery glare had met your own more times than the ball had hit the rim, and the team was sick of it.

“Great job out there, huh? Maybe if you’d passed the damn ball instead of hogging it, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” you snapped, slamming your locker shut. Your voice echoed off the metal, sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of your teammates.

Nika whirled around, her dark hair still damp with sweat, eyes blazing. “Me? You’re the one who missed three wide-open shots in the fourth quarter. My grandma could’ve made those with her eyes closed, and she’s half-blind!”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, stepping closer, your chest heaving from the adrenaline still pumping through you. “Your ass had two turnovers trying to show off with those fancy ass dribbles. Maybe stick to the basics next time, hotshot.”

The rest of the team exchanged looks—Paige Bueckers rolled her eyes and muttered, “Here we go again,” while Azzi Fudd grabbed her bag and bolted for the door. They’d seen this dance before: you and Nika, two storms colliding, leaving wreckage in your wake. No one dared intervene anymore.

It was pointless. Like trying to get a shark and bear get along: stupid and a waste of time.

Nika’s jaw tightened, her lips curling into a sneer. “Shit, at least I’m not the one who let their girl blow past them for that game-tying layup. You’re a mess.”

You laughed, bitter and cold. “A mess? Says the one who fouled out with two minutes left. Real fucking clutch, Mühl.”

She stepped closer, her breath hot against your face, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Keep talking. See where it gets you.”

The air crackled between you, thick with rage and something else—something unspoken that had been simmering for weeks. Your teammates had scattered now, leaving the locker room empty except for the two of you, the silence amplifying every ragged breath.

“Fuck you, Nika,” you hissed, shoving her shoulder.

She didn’t budge, just grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer, her grip bruising. “Fuck you,” she spat back, her lips inches from yours.

And then—chaos. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly her mouth was on yours, all teeth and fury, a kiss that felt more like a fight. You shoved her against the lockers, the clang of metal ringing out as your hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard. She groaned—a sound that was half-anger, half-need—and bit your lip, drawing a sharp hiss from you.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered against her mouth, your hands already under her jersey, nails raking down her back.

“Shut up,” she growled, spinning you around so your back hit the cold steel. Her fingers were rough, tugging at your shorts, yanking them down with no patience. “You piss me off.”

“Good,” you snarled, kicking the fabric aside and pulling her closer, your thigh slotting between her legs. She was still in her uniform, sweaty and disheveled, and the sight of her—pupils blown, chest heaving—made your stomach twist with want.

Her hands found your hips, digging in as she ground against you, her breath hitching. “Fuckin’ always got sum to say,” she taunted, but her voice cracked when your fingers slipped beneath her waistband, finding her already soaked. “Fuck—”

“Keep talking,” you mocked, echoing her earlier threat as you pressed two fingers inside her, curling them hard. She gasped, her head tipping back against the locker, and the sound sent a jolt straight through you.

She didn’t back down, though—never did. Her hand slid between your thighs, mirroring your movements, and the sudden pressure made your knees buckle. “You’re such a bitch,” she whispered, her thumb circling you with ruthless precision, “can’t fucking stand you.”

The words hit like a punch, and you hated how they made you clench around her fingers. You retaliated, adding a third finger, pumping faster, deeper, until her thighs trembled and her insults dissolved into broken moans. The locker room smelled of sweat and sex, the air thick with the sound of your ragged breathing and the wet, desperate rhythm of your bodies.

“Fuck, Nika—” you choked out, your free hand gripping her shoulder as she pushed you to the edge, her fingers relentless. She smirked, even as her own voice shook, “Say it again.”

You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you, shuddering as she tipped you over, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave. You clung to her, nails biting into her skin, and she followed seconds later, her hips jerking against your hand as she came with a string of curses in Croatian you barely understood.

But it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. The anger still burned, fueling something primal. You shoved her onto the bench, straddling her before she could recover, and she pulled you down with a wicked grin, her hands guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. The friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once, and soon you were both chasing that high again—overstimulated, oversensitive, but too stubborn to stop.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she panted, her voice raw as she gripped your waist, her touch bruising in the best way.

“Then die,” you shot back, but the words lost their venom as you came again, harder this time, your vision blurring. She laughed—breathless, triumphant—and pulled you into another messy, desperate kiss, her tongue claiming you like she’d won the argument.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, both of you sweaty, trembling messes. The locker room was silent again, save for your heavy breathing. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Finally, Nika muttered, “We’re still fucked for the next game.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue. “Yeah. But at least we’re good at this.”

She smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and for once, there was no venom in her eyes—just a flicker of something softer. “Truce?”

“For now,” you said, and you both knew it wouldn’t last.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[melrodrigo]

on your knees - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and Cairo really needs a date.

Word Count: idk i’ll fill it later

A/N: Hiii, here to feed my babies. Beware the last few parts because i did nawt proofread this. Will come back to edit it eventually! Thanks for all the love

“Come onnnnn, go on a date with me?” The girl in front of you practically begs, leaning forward till her whole body is pressed up to the front of your desk.

“Very funny.” You tell her, dryly.

Cairo’s been whining all week about not having a valentine’s date, but you don’t know why she specifically chooses to whine to you about it. After all, you had heard from around school she had a crush on Mr.Miller.

Your nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. Their coupling would be wild at best, and illegal (not to mention boring) at worst. It would be like seeing Einstein and an Instagram model holding hands. Except Mr. Miller wasn’t Einstein, he was Henry Miller. A spectacularly boring middle aged white guy.

To be completely transparent, you wouldn’t have minded going on a date with Cairo. Since, truth be told, you might’ve had a (tiny) crush on her.

You let your mind wander, think of what it would be like to take her out. The perfect date.

She loves nature, so it would be outdoors for sure. She doesn’t love extravagant gestures, you’d probably make her a little picnic. Your train of thought is cut short by the evil voice that tells you she could be fantasizing about a certain professor on your imaginary date.

Cairo breaks your daydreaming by falling to her knees beside your chair, hitting the carpet with a loud thud.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly grab her shoulders and try to push her up, but she refuses. For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of strength.

“What do you want me to do, beg? I can beg.” She tells you, still on her knees, dress pooling atop the rug.

You’re ashamed to admit the position has a bit of an effect on you. But who could blame you? Anyone would be flustered if Cairo Sweet was looking up at them like that…

It’s a little awe inspiring, seeing Cairo so, desperate. You’re not sure what’s brought this all on, but the cold cut Cairo you once knew has disappeared completely from the equation.

“Cairo.” You hiss, eyes darting between the door and the girl in front of you, praying that no one comes in.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” She whines again, reaching for your shirt cuffs for something to hang onto.

There’s a swoosh and a quiet “oh!” that brings your attention back to the door.

Mr. Miller.

He stands somewhat awkwardly, smiling the type of smile that somehow indicates he’s unhappy. His eyes narrow when he notices it’s Cairo on the floor, his beloved teacher’s pet.

Okay, now you really need Cairo to get up. You support (force) her up and onto half of your chair, reprimanding her quietly as Miller walks past, coughing.

She straightens only slightly before settling once again on your lap, claiming it’s more comfortable and “a more suitable place for her to focus on her studies”.

“Why don’t you just sit at your desk, hm?” You point at the table, a single chair, smack dab in the middle of the classroom, in front of Mr.Miller. She was such a nerd.

She stares back at you blankly, big brown eyes making you a little distracted.

“That’s not mine.” She says, and you breathe out a laugh. The tension breaks. Her eyes crinkle lightly at the sound.

“You’re so weird.” You mumble, but allow her to sit further into your lap, no doubt much more comfy than her previous position.

“Can I sit here the rest of the class?” She asks, a little bashfully. You give her a pointed look, but nod nonetheless.

“Whatever you want.” You tell her, and she seems happy with that, taking her laptop and notebook out, ready to learn.

You see her lock eyes with Mr. Miller, who looks very confused. She smiles shyly and breaks the contact by nudging herself into the crook of your neck.

Oh.

Maybe all this was just to make Mr.Miller jealous.

You frown at the disturbing thought. Cairo’s breath tingles your skin as she tilts her head up so her lips are right beside your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, quite unwillingly.

“Now will you go on a date with me?” She whispers, huskily. Her confidence has returned, cocky like the Cairo you know so well.

You weigh your options.

You do really want her to get away from Mr.Miller…it might be a good time to slap some sense into the young girl.

“Alright.” You say curtly, already regretting your decision.

Cairo removes herself from your neck, smiling wide. For a second it quells your anxieties, her milky white pearls blinding.

She turns back as more students start filing in, ready yet again to learn.

You can’t focus for the duration of the class, mind wandering. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, what were you going to say? What were you going to do?

You stay quiet until class ends and all the way while you walk her back to her home. Cairo pokes at you a couple times to try and get you out of your head.

“Don’t forget flowers!” Cairo teasingly yells from ahead of you, already one foot into her house. You straighten up, dumbly answer with a “You got it!” and a face palm once she’s out of sight.

-

Okay. This was it. Last night was spent toiling on your bed, writing a script of what you’ll tell Cairo, prepared lillies- her favorite flowers, and a batch of the best things you could possibly find in your fridge.

Bread, butter, freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and two slices of turkey left, you’re all ready and set.

The script is tucked away into the back pocket of your jeans, snug and cozy. It radiates warmth that makes you think it’d be terribly rude to ever take it out.

You sit down onto the grass, arms on both sides straightened, palms rubbing uncomfortably with the tablecloth.

“I shouldn’t be this nervous.” You remind yourself, but it does almost nothing to quell your worries.

You can’t keep lying to yourself, the truth swims in your head and you’re afraid it’s going to leave your lips the second Cairo arrives. You aren’t nervous about the letter, or anything to do with Mr.Miller. In fact, you’re nervous about the date.

A tiny part of you, no matter how much you try and shun it away, hopes that, maybe, just maybe, if Cairo liked this date, she might start liking you.

The minutes count themselves down too fast, and it’s almost time. You sit straighter, checking your shirt for any wrinkles.

You see a tiny figure make it’s way onto the lawn, and you have to bite back a smile when you realize it’s Cairo.

She looks almost shy as she walks up to you, twiddling with her thumbs.

It’s like a wave washes over you when you finally see her up close. She’s wearing a gray turtleneck, with a denim jacket over it, hair all nice and wavy. She looks unbelievably good.

It takes a second for you to grab your bearings and act like you weren’t just blatantly staring at her.

“You look beautiful.” You say, as casual as you can muster, and Cairo breaks out into a smile. You notice she’s wearing water liner, and it makes your knees feel like jelly. She’s only ever done makeup like this once, during your school dance, and it had all but made you swoon.

“Yeah?” She muses, mindlessly. Bending down and sitting on your makeshift picnic cloth.

“Yeah.” You breathe, even though you can tell she didn’t really need an answer to that. She reaches for your face, pushing a stray hair back.

“You look good too.” Is what she comments, all soft like.

You’re a little ashamed to admit you dressed up particularly for this occasion. Some rosy pink blush, your favorite lipstick just for her.

You cough awkwardly, and it breaks you both out of your trance. You reach for the food and serve her her plate.

You get a good while into talking and laughing that you bring up Mr. Miller.

“So…do you have your eye on anybody right now?” You ask nonchalantly, pretending like you haven’t mapped this whole conversation out in your head a million times.

Something flashes in her eyes but it disappears so quick you can’t tell what it is.

“You know you can tell me anything,right?” You tell her, and you mean it. Whatever or whoever it was, you’d be fine with it. You wouldn’t just stop being friends with her because of complicated feelings. She mattered more to you than that.

She bites her lip, then speaks quick, like she has to get it out before she overthinks too much.

“Yeah I am interested in someone. In this school, actually.” She says.

You feel your heart drop to your ass, you’d hoped against hope that the rumor wasn’t true- but with this new information, it had to be.

So much for ‘being okay with anything.’ That’s it. It’s over for me.

“Oh?” You try and ask, but it comes out as a little squeak. Cairo shoots you a weird look, but continues telling you about it.

“Yeah…I really like her. I just, I don’t know if I should pursue it.” She purses her lips.

Now it’s really time for your heart to flip. Her? Did she say ‘her?’

“Yeah, I did.” She confirms, small smirk playing on her crimson lips.

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” You ask her, cheeks heating up immediately. She gives you a quick nod.

Oh god.

“You like a girl?” You ask again, disbelieving.

This time she huffs, sounding almost impatient.

“Yes, I like a girl.” She says, exasperated, with a bit of bite in her tone. Something defensive and possibly jealous stirs up in you fast and quick. Why does she look annoyed?

You can’t help but answer in the same way.

“Okay, so who is it that you like so much?” You ask pointedly. The fire in her eyes that was there just moments before simmers, and just like that, she reverts back to her normal self. It’s almost concerning how she does it so quick, like the flip of a switch.

She suddenly looks nervous again. You give her a small encouraging nod, take her hand in yours as support. They tremble slightly.

“I like you. And I know you probably-” She continues but all you can hear are the echos of her first statement.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

I like you.

You retract from her hands, surprised beyond belief. You regret it immediately when her smile drops.

Her mouth is moving rapidly, and you use the best of your abilities to try and hear what she’s saying.

“I mean why do you think I even begged you on this date? I swear your head is so thick-“ Her words pass through your ears in intervals, and finally, after she’s done, and looking at you expectedly, all you can do is croak out a weak, “You don’t have a crush on Mr. Miller?”

Cairo blinks once, twice.

“What?” But there’s no fear or judgement or any hint of any emotion except disbelief.

Huh, so she didn’t know about the rumor.

“Who said I have a crush on Mr.Miller?” She asks, nose scrunching in disgust. You sigh, looking up to the sky and thanking god.

At this revelation, you’re elated. You scooch just a tad closer and tell her about the rumor. When you’re done, you expect someone shocked, or weirded out, but all she does is letout a hefty laugh.

“God, just because I like a class doesn’t mean I want to fuck the teacher.” She smiles, and you marvel in the way she’s able to shake it off so easy. She’s always been like that, carefree.

You let your mind wander to what she said before. She turns her head to look at the scenery, allowing you guys to sit in comfortable silence.

You say her name, a simple sound, but it makes her look up into your eyes, curious.

“Did you really mean what you said? You like me?” You ask, soft.

She gives an adamant nod, assuring she really does. God, you could not focus right now. She looks so pretty.

“I like you too. Like, a lot.” You breathe, and watch as her eyes sparkle.

“Really?” She blinks, in a state of vulnerability you’ve never seen. You can’t believe that she wouldn’t believe it. You give her the same nod, grin breaking out on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your lips.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted- you can’t even speak.

Her kiss isn’t what you’ve always imagined. Something soft, something gentle. That’s how it always was with the first kiss. You should’ve guessed long ago Cairo wasn’t just anyone.

She surges in, grabbing your face tight like if she lets go you’ll disintegrate. She’s so rough, and you can’t get enough of it. She climbs over your body and settles in your lap, grabbing the collar of your shirt to deepen the kiss.

You break away when it gets too much, both of you panting. Her cheeks are now another shade of pink you can be proud of causing; her hair messed up in a way that makes you want to grab her and kiss her again. And so you do.

You guys stay like that, laughing and talking and kissing till it’s dark out.

“It’s a good thing I forced you on this date, isn’t it?” She muses, rolling in your arms.

You giggle, high from the endorphins.

“You didn’t force me, it was a two person thing.” You try and justify, hoping she doesn’t think you didn’t want the date.

“It’s sweet of you to say that, but we both know you would’ve never asked me out.” She tells you, booping her nose against yours.

“Oh shut up.” And you take her lips in another kiss before she can retort.

[svndaysaweek]

You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}

3.1k words

A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!

******

Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.

You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.

The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.

“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”

You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.

“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”

The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.

Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.

She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.

“Sorr-oh!”

A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor. 

"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage

"He looks peaceful though."

"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"

"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."

"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.

"So you didn't catch him?"

"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway. 

“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.

“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.

“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.

“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.

“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.

And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.

“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.

“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness. 

“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.

“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place. 

On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.

It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.

All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.

******

“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.

“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.

Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.

You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.

But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.

“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.

She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.

“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.

You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she’s getting what she wants.

It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.

“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her. 

And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.

“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.

You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed. 

And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her. 

“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.

“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.

“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.

“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.

“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her. 

Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.

“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.

“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.

******

Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.

But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.

It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight. 

But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.

‘You don't even know my name, do you?’

******

[hildergard]

just thinking about aemond x lowborn!reader (I found myself in love with that trope) he helps her by giving her food, money, clothes, and stuff. but the reader is a younger daughter or lives in a toxic environment and everything is monopolized by her family and when aemond finds out he simply sees red. i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, but the idea is there!!!

PRECIOUS ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Swearing, suggestive content, dysfunctional family

WORDCOUNT | 2.7k

NOTE | Enjoy this thing I wrote in one sitting and did not edit. If you see any mistake... no you did not. There probably is⏤English is not my first language. In my mind, they are "rich" enough to buy food so I focused on gifts instead. I hope you'll like it nonetheless. I tried to keep it short this time and, for once, I think I succeeded! Thank you for requesting this great prompt <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Downstairs, the intoxicated patrons sang their bawdy songs and shook the walls of the inn. Their lewd rhymes travelled through the dingy floorboards and vanished against your parted lips. 

A hand went up your spine, grazed your shoulders, and stopped on your sweaty neck. 

“Where is it?”

The voice hit the air and sent shivers down your spine. That authoritative tone, those proudly exhaled consonants, those whispered vowels... His words exuded nobility and education and set your whole body ablaze. You closed your eyes for a second and imagined yourself blessed with such gift of the gab, but your sentence fell awkwardly from your bruised lips.

“What do you mean?”

The sticky sheets crumpled under your weight. You squinted to make out the silhouette of your lover. In the moonlight, his hair looked as if it had been woven from the stars. 

“Where is your necklace?" Aemond asked.

Mindlessly, your fingers hit an infinity of naked flesh. You gulped. 

“Oh... Well... I didn't want to wear a beautiful object liked that in Flea Bottom. Thieves are everywhere with the blockade–”

“I gave it to you for you to wear it," he cut you off. 

The pitch-dark night itself could not hide his discontent. 

“I know, my love," you say softly. 

He had been so happy to give it to you. The gold chain and the sapphire still sparkled in your dreams. Sometimes, at night, you would remember Aemond's delicate fingers against your neck, the refreshing coldness of the precious metal on your flesh, its weight against your throat... And then, the sun would tear you from your dreams and the only thing left around your neck would be the knot of your guilt.

“No matter," he finally said. 

Your prince's fingers descended on your chest, brushed against your nipple but did not linger, much to your regret. Aemond got out of bed and left your body cold⏤it was so easy to let yourself be consumed by dragonfire. It burned your heart oh so beautifully. 

Without a word, Aemond bent down and took a packet out of his leather bag. You looked away from his naked body, your cheeks aflame. The many nights you had spent with him, learning the map of his muscles and flesh, had done nothing for your shyness. It died in an explosion of pleasure each night but would always be reborn in the painful awareness left in the vanishing carnal bliss. 

Aemond came back and handed you the gift, one knee resting on the thin mattress. A lump twisted in your throat and rendered you speechless. With a trembling hand, you pulled the ribbon and let the fabric fall to reveal a magnificent dress. 

You closed your eyes for a moment and forced a smile onto your face.

“You shouldn't have," you said through clenched teeth. 

“You say that every time," he laughed. “And you know very well that I will not stop. You deserve to be pampered, my love."

You don't command a nobleman, let alone a Targaryen. Perhaps that was why Aemond kept ignoring your request, for it never changed. Every gift was answered with this phrase. There was no false modesty there, just the familiar, creeping guilt⏤an old enemy coming to torment you. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Your fingers brushed against the blue bodice, where golden threads wove in a fine, expensive, embroidery⏤a huge dragon slumbered in a field of flowers. 

At your words, Aemond smiled brightly and kissed your forehead. His lips left their wet imprint, which you did not wipe away. You would cherish its feeling a little longer. He moved down your cheeks and finally attacked your lips. You groaned and buried your hand in his hair before pressing your chest against his.

“I must go now," he said reluctantly between kisses. 

You stepped back with a sigh and glanced at the window. The hour of the wolf was darkening the sky. Downstairs, the patrons had quietened down. Heavy, awkward footsteps echoed in the corridor and doors slammed. 

At last, the more festive souls were going to bed. 

If you listened carefully, you could hear the bakers already hard at work. The first to rise, they sweetened the dreams of citizens with the sweet and greedy fragrances they distilled in the streets. 

Aemond slumped onto the bed one last time and pulled you in for a last kiss. 

“The next time I see you, I will rip that silk off your body," he smiled before pointing to the discarded dress. 

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, and kissed him one last time. 

Aemond⏤hood falling on his head⏤disappeared with an uttered I love you and left you alone with your guilt. A sigh shook your chest. 

You got dressed and went downstairs, leaving the stains on the linen as the only trace of your love. You absently nodded at Denyse, busy wiping the tables, and set off into the streets of Flea Bottom. 

It would take you a good hour to get to the forge. 

You already longed for your bed on the other side of the town. 

Flea Bottom, for all its faults, provided the discretion you needed to meet your prince every night. It was Aemond who had shown you this little inn after you refused to use the secret passages leading to the Red Keep⏤you would not throw yourself into the dragon's jaws.  

Your feet cursed you, but your heart thanked you for these precious moments⏤away from the reproaches and the forge, the vices of the court and the pressure of power. In this dingy room, the Prince softened and removed his iron mask to reveal the gentle soul hidden behind it, while you forgot the shrill cries that tormented your days. 

It took you longer than usual to reach the Street of Steel. As you passed through the wooden door, the hour of the Nightingale was casting its first rays of sunshine and waking up the workers. 

Your mother was waiting for you, arms crossed and a bucket of water at her feet. 

Without delay, she ripped the dress from your hands and replaced it with the bucket. A few drops splashed onto you, soaking the front of your sweaty tunic. 

“Where did you get that?” her sharp voice asked. “You stole it, didn’t you? How many times do I have to tell you–”

“I didn’t– It's not–”

She cut you off before you could come up with an excuse.

Her fingernails scraped at the embroidery, which held firm. 

“That’s some good work..." she mumbled. “We'll get a few silver stags out of it... Maybe enough to repair the oven. Meredyth? Meredyth! Come downstairs and take this to the weaver next door!”

You held out a shaking hand to try and retrieve the dress, but your mother glared at you. You lowered your head, your eyes wet. Aemond's face appeared in your thoughts and the guilt⏤always there⏤ignited. 

You no longer had the strength to fight the inevitable. Dawn, beautiful as it was, always had its share of disappointments in store for you. Every morning, your prince's gifts were snatched from you without remorse and sold to the nearest merchant. All that remained of your jewels and dresses was a thick leather purse hidden under the floor of your parents' bedroom⏤both took great pleasure in lecturing you about stealing and sinning. 

Your mother could pretend all she wanted to be pious and kind, a good believer with a guiltless conscience, but you knew the truth. She would never go through with her threats, far too happy with the gold dragons piling up under her pillow. 

Your sister ran down the stairs and grabbed the package before examining its contents. 

“Oh, Mum, it's so beautiful…” She took the dress out of its wrapping and pressed it to her chest before twirling around, not minding the dirt on the silk with her ashen fingers. “Can we keep it?”

Your mother scoffed. 

“To do what? You don't need an embroidered dress to forge swords and shoe horses. Why don't you go and see if Claere can take it? And you!" she turned back to you. “Clean the grindstone. You’ll sharpen the commissions next. Corwyn isn't here.”  

The knot tightened around your neck as you nodded and disappeared into the workshop. 

The hours passed. Sweat stuck to your forehead and the sparks from the grindstone bit your fingers. At last⏤to your delight⏤ nine o'clock struck the end of the day. You gave Duncan⏤a golden cloak⏤the dagger he had ordered, pocketed the fifty silver stags and wished him a good evening. 

When he closed the door, you hurried up to your room, washed yourself with the bucket of cold water, put on one of your best dresses and ran to Flea Bottom, ignoring your mother's cries, which faded under the beating of your soles. 

You arrived at the inn out of breath, but happy to be away from home. Denyse greeted you with a wink and watched you stride up the stairs. The steps creaked under your weight, but you did not care. Habit and euphoria carried you to an innocuous door. 

You opened it and a body flung itself against yours. A smile lit up your face. Aemond did not wait and pulled you to the bed. 

As his lips peppered your neck with kisses, his hands slipped under your body and roamed the length of your back. They clung to your dress and sought out the threads of your bodice, but suddenly stopped. You tensed. Gently, Aemond straightened up. He looked at you before his eye fell on your cotton dress.

“What is this?” 

“Aemond, I–” 

“Wasn't it to your liking? You should have told me. I would have asked the royal weaver to make the necessary alterations. We just received Essos fabrics. Perhaps it would have been wiser to talk to you about it before commissioning it,” he frowned. 

“It was perfect.”

“Was?”

You sighed and embraced him. Immediately, Aemond's hands searched for yours. Your fingers intertwined. He pulled you against him and tucked his chin into your neck. As he spoke, his breaths hit your skin and made you shiver. 

“What are you not telling me, my love?”

His closeness calmed you. With the tip of your pointer finger, you brushed his back and caressed the hollow of his spine. Your hand came to rest on the small of his back and traced invented letters that told of all the love you felt for him. He smiled against your neck and kissed it, understanding the gibberish you were writing with an ignorant hand. 

The language of love knew no illiteracy.

“Y/N?”

Your sigh struggled to come out, blocked by the muscular torso against your chest. It struggled to find its way to your lips and  when it did come out, it poured all its guilt into the air before suffocating you. 

“It's just that... I mean... Don't get angry, please, I couldn't bear it,” you begged.

“Never, my love. Now tell me.” 

“Your gifts… My parents… They sell them.” 

He straightened up and sought your gaze, but you turned your head away. Guilt lacerated your throat. You swallowed to get rid of the horrible feeling, but it remained. 

The Gods were punishing you. 

“They sell them and use the gold for the forge or when they feel like it.”  

He said nothing, which worried you. 

“Stop offering me more," you stammered. “I beg you, Aemond. I can't bear the guilt any longer. Please, Aemond. You must understand…”

He hushed you and gently caressed your cheek. You took refuge in the warmth of his palm and closed your eyes. His lips wiped away the few tears that rolled down your cheekbone. 

“It is all right.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, my sweet. Now please, do not cry. I cannot bear this sight.”

After your conversation, Aemond stopped bringing you gifts. Your heart sank, but you told yourself that it was for the best⏤your parents would, at last, no longer monopolise his fortune. Now, all your prince had left to offer you were his caresses and words, but you felt richer than if he had given you a piece of jewellery. 

Your hammer struck the iron, sending sparks flying. They nicked at your cheeks but did not dim the smile on your face. Your thoughts drifted back to last night, Aemond's warm skin against yours, his hand between your thighs, his warmth and his thrusts… 

A metallic noise brought you back to reality. You raised your head and blinked, expecting to find Corwyn in the workshop, but there was only you. 

It comes from the shop, you realised. 

You frowned⏤thinking about the person behind the counter⏤and wiped your hands on an old towel before walking to the front. Worry settled in your chest as you quickened your pace. 

Your father never dropped his tools. Years of experience had turned his hammer into a part of his hand. He was no longer the young apprentice you or your siblings still were. 

You stumbled into the shop. 

“M’prince!" your father stammered. “To what do we owe this honour?”

Your wide eyes met Aemond's satisfied one. The towel fell to the floor. 

“Would you like a sword? I have several that might please you. No Valyrian steel around here unfortunately," he chuckled, "but they cut just as good.”

“I’ve come to discuss your daughter's affairs.” 

“Meredyth?” 

“Your youngest daughter," the Prince replied. 

Your father gave you an incredulous look when you reached him. His fist tightened around the hammer he had picked up. 

“I heard a rumour that rather annoys me, I must admit. A rumour about valuable objects that have an unfortunate tendency to disappear.”

Your father grabbed your upper arm to keep you in line⏤ unwilling to sully his image in front of the Prince Regent. 

“Her mother and I...! We've told her a hundred times not to steal! She's a good girl, m’prince. She's just a little... lost. Youth, you know," he smiled nervously. “No need to make a big deal of it. Don't you think?”

“Oh, your daughter is innocent. You are the problem, sir.” 

“M-me?”

“You see, those objects were gifts. From me, might I add. And I take great offence that you not only stole them but shamelessly sold them for your own gain, embezzling money from the crown. This is an act of treason, did you know that? I could have your head for this.”

You massaged the bridge of your nose between two fingers and sighed, cursing your lover's hot blood and praying to the Gods to give you the strength. Three eyes burned at your temple⏤two of embarrassment, one of pride. You met your father's gaze and shrugged. 

“I… I beg your pardon, m’prince. We didn't know.” 

Your father set down his hammer on the counter and curtsied. His callused fingers waved, unsure of what to do, before plunging into the centre pocket of his leather apron. 

The prince stared at your father for a few more seconds, gloating as he squirmed with embarrassment, and moved towards you. Gently, he took hold of your wrist. You gasped when a cold sensation touched your hand. You looked down and found a magnificent ring on your finger⏤a fine circle of twisted gold with several sparkling sapphires.

“And there it was. Something as precious as you," he smiled, stroking the jewel with his thumb. “A thousand stones could not compare with your eyes, but I must admit I cannot wait to see it on your finger tonight. It will be all the more beautiful under the moonlight.”

Aemond kissed your hand before straightening up to glare at your father. 

“If I hear this ring has been sold, you will suffer the consequences. Is that clear?”

“Yes, m’prince.”

“Hmm. Good.”

He left the forge with a confident step and slammed the door behind him. 

Silence stretched on. Your teary eyes remained riveted on the jewel. The imprint of his kiss still warmed the back of your hand and made your heart race. You shook your fingers, welcoming this new weight, and smiled brightly.  

After several minutes, your father, his mouth ajar, finally turned to you. 

“Now, what on earth did you do to seduce a prince, girl?

[shiorihyugawrites]

Heavy Lifting (Levi x Plus Sized Reader One Shot)

Going to the gym for the first time was already nerve-wracking enough, but catching the attention of Levi Ackerman, an ex-special forces soldier turned personal trainer? That was something you weren’t prepared for.

With his sharp gray eyes watching your every move, you could barely focus—especially when you realized he wasn’t just watching. He was interested.

What started as a simple workout session quickly turned into something much, much hotter. And let’s just say… this was definitely the best full-body workout of your life.

18 + Only | Minors Do Not Interact

A/N: This is a little one-shot I wrote a few weeks ago and I finally got around to editing it. I figured, why not bless you all with a little treat. 😙

Also this was 100% inspired by my fantasies I have in the gym instead of working out 😂😂

The gym smelled of sweat and ambition—a heady mix that clung to the air as you pushed through the double doors, clutching your water bottle like a lifeline. The noise hit you first: the rhythmic pounding of feet on treadmills, the metallic clink of weights being racked, and the low hum of conversations mixed with occasional bursts of laughter. Everyone here seemed to know what they were doing, their movements purposeful, their confidence tangible. Your stomach churned with a mix of excitement and dread.

You glanced down at yourself, tugging self-consciously at the hem of your oversized hoodie. The baggy fabric swallowed your figure, a deliberate choice to hide the parts of yourself you weren’t ready for the world to see. Beneath it, your leggings stretched over your thighs and hips, hugging curves that you’d learned to resent more often than not. You shifted awkwardly, catching sight of your reflection in one of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The woman staring back looked out of place, a sea of insecurity amid a tide of fit, athletic bodies.

Your gaze darted across the room, searching for a safe starting point. The weight section loomed to your right, filled with men and women who moved with such precision it felt almost choreographed. On your left, rows of treadmills and ellipticals buzzed with activity. You hesitated. Which was the right choice? Which would attract the least attention?

You took a deep breath. "Just start somewhere," you muttered under your breath, the sound barely audible over the gym’s constant thrum. Your legs carried you toward the weights, your steps hesitant but determined. You were here for a reason, after all. The thought of your doctor’s words—“Small, consistent steps. Strength training is good for you”—echoed in your mind. You weren’t about to back out now.

Across the room, Levi Ackerman leaned against the cable machine, his sharp gray eyes scanning the gym like a hawk surveying its territory. He had an effortless presence, his lean, muscular frame clad in a simple black t-shirt and gray joggers. His movements were precise as he adjusted the weight on the machine, but his attention wasn’t on his routine—it was on you.

He didn’t know why you had caught his eye. Maybe it was the way you clutched your water bottle as if it were a lifeline or the slight tremor in your hands as you hovered near the dumbbells, clearly unsure of where to start. Something about your hesitance tugged at him. Your baggy hoodie and leggings left much to the imagination, but Levi’s discerning gaze noted the gentle curve of your waist and the way your leggings stretched over full hips and thighs. He couldn’t help but think you looked… soft. Beautiful, even.

“Damn it,” Levi muttered to himself when he realized he was staring. He turned his attention back to the weights, gripping the handles of the machine with unnecessary force. But his resolve didn’t last long. His eyes flicked back to you, watching as you nervously adjusted your hoodie again and hesitated near a pair of dumbbells. You looked lost, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that bothered him.

You felt it before you saw it—someone’s eyes on you. The hair on the back of your neck prickled, and you slowly turned your head, scanning the room until your gaze locked with his. He stood across the gym, his intense gray eyes boring into yours. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous—chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and a stoic expression that didn’t waver even when he realized you’d caught him staring.

Your heart sank. Was he judging you? Mocking you? You’d seen that look before—the one that dissected you, decided you didn’t belong. Heat crept up your neck, and you quickly looked away, gripping your water bottle tighter. You suddenly felt like bolting.

Levi cursed under his breath as he realized his mistake. “Get it together,” he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. But his eyes betrayed him again, drawn back to you like a magnet. He told himself it wasn’t just attraction, though there was no denying you had a striking presence despite your obvious discomfort. There was something else—something in the way you squared your shoulders and took a hesitant step toward the weights despite the uncertainty etched on your face. It reminded him of soldiers he’d trained, their fear palpable but their determination stronger.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the dumbbells, picking up a pair that you quickly realized was too heavy. “Crap,” you muttered, setting them back down with a metallic clink. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice the eyes on you, the feeling of being out of place gnawing at your resolve.

Levi, still watching, felt a pang of irritation—not at you, but at the thought of anyone else making you feel small. Before he could stop himself, he pushed away from the cable machine and crossed the room with purposeful strides.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the noise around you.

Startled, you looked up, your eyes widening as they met his. Up close, he was even more intimidating—chiseled jawline, muscular arms, and an air of authority that made you feel like you were standing in front of a drill sergeant. You stammered, unsure of what to say.

“I—uh, no, I’m just—” You gestured vaguely to the weights, your face burning.

Levi arched a brow, his expression unreadable. “First time?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah. Is it that obvious?”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it didn’t quite make it. “A little.” He glanced at the weights you’d just abandoned. “You’re starting too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Your heart sank. Of course, you were doing it wrong. “Oh,” you said softly, looking down.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentler now. “No one gets it perfect the first time. Let me show you.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his offer. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “But I want to.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But something about the way he looked at you—direct, without a hint of mockery—made you nod. “Okay.”

Levi stepped beside you, his movements calm and deliberate. “Let’s start with these,” he said, pointing to a lighter pair of dumbbells. “You want to focus on form first. Weight comes later.”

As he guided you through the exercise, his voice was steady and patient, his instructions clear. You couldn’t help but notice how close he stood, the heat of his presence making your pulse quicken. Every so often, you caught him glancing at you, his gray eyes softening in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“Good,” he said as you completed a set. “You’re a fast learner.”

You smiled despite yourself, a small flicker of pride warming your chest. “Thanks.”

Levi’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he nodded. “Anytime.”

As he stepped back, giving you space to continue on your own, you realized something surprising: for the first time since you walked into the gym, you didn’t feel quite so out of place.

Levi crossed his arms, leaning casually against the nearby rack of weights. His sharp gray eyes, which you now realized were tinged with a softness that balanced his otherwise intimidating presence, studied you for a moment. Then, he extended a hand toward you. His fingers were strong, calloused—hands that had seen their share of hard work.

"Levi," he said simply. His voice was calm and deep, yet it carried a tone that demanded attention without effort.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden introduction. It took you a second to register that he was waiting for you to respond. Quickly, you wiped your slightly sweaty palm on your hoodie before shaking his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip.

“I’m... uh, I’m (Y/N),” you stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of how small your hand felt in his.

Levi gave a slight nod, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you. You picked a good day to start. The gym’s not too crowded.”

You glanced around. To you, it felt packed with people who all seemed to belong far more than you did. “If this isn’t crowded, I’d hate to see it when it is,” you replied with a nervous laugh.

Levi’s lips twitched again, the barest hint of amusement breaking through his stoic demeanor. “Fair point.” He straightened up, gesturing to the lighter dumbbells he’d selected for you earlier. “Let me show you a few movements to get you started. Basic, but effective.”

You nodded, appreciating his willingness to help despite how out of place you felt. He picked up a pair of dumbbells, rolling his shoulders back with ease, and turned toward you.

“Let’s start with something simple: Romanian deadlifts, or RDLs. They’re great for your hamstrings, glutes, and lower back. Watch closely.”

You did as he instructed, watching how he held the dumbbells with a firm but relaxed grip. His movements were smooth and controlled as he bent forward at the hips, keeping his back perfectly straight and his knees slightly bent. His muscles flexed with the motion, and you found yourself momentarily distracted by the way his shirt clung to his frame.

“Notice how I’m not rounding my back,” Levi said, his tone instructive as he straightened up. “That’s the most important part. It’s all about the hips. Got it?”

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure you did. He stepped back, setting the dumbbells down and gesturing for you to take his place. “Your turn.”

You picked up the weights, suddenly hyper-aware of how awkward your movements felt compared to his. As you attempted the motion, you realized immediately that something was off. Your back felt strained, and you couldn’t quite figure out where your hips were supposed to go. Frustration bubbled up as you tried again, unsuccessfully.

“Wait,” Levi said, stepping closer. “You’re rounding your back too much. Here, let me show you.”

You froze as he moved behind you, his proximity sending a wave of heat through your body. His hands rested lightly on your shoulders, guiding you to straighten them. The warmth of his touch was almost distracting enough to make you forget what you were doing.

“Relax,” he murmured. His voice was low, almost soothing, and you forced yourself to focus as he adjusted your stance. One hand moved to the small of your back, his palm barely grazing the fabric of your hoodie. “Keep this part straight. Hinge at your hips, not your waist.”

Your heart was racing now, and you were sure he could feel the heat radiating from your skin. You tried to follow his instructions, bending forward again, but his hands stopped you midway.

“Not quite. Here.” His grip was firmer now as he placed one hand on your hip and the other on your upper back. “Push your hips back more—like you’re trying to close a car door with them.”

You blushed furiously at his analogy but nodded. When you moved this time, his hands guided you perfectly, and you felt the stretch in your hamstrings that he’d described earlier. “There,” Levi said, his voice quieter now. “That’s it.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded, hyper-aware of every point where his hands touched you. His fingers were steady, but you could feel the slightest hesitation in his touch, as if he were holding himself back. Levi cleared his throat suddenly and stepped away, putting distance between you both.

“Try a few reps,” he said, his voice a little rougher than before. He crossed his arms, and though his face remained neutral, you noticed a faint redness creeping up his neck.

You followed his instructions, performing the movement again and again. With each rep, you felt more confident. The weights didn’t feel as heavy now that your form was right, and you were even starting to enjoy the rhythm of it. But as you worked, you couldn’t help but notice Levi’s eyes on you, watching every move with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

What you didn’t know was that Levi was struggling to keep his composure. He told himself he was just watching to make sure your form was correct, but his gaze kept drifting lower—to the curve of your hips and the way your leggings stretched over your backside. With each hinge of your hips, your movements seemed to emphasize the fullness of your figure, and Levi found himself gripping his water bottle tightly.

“Focus,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away. He unscrewed the cap of his bottle and took a long drink, hoping the cool water would ease the heat creeping up his neck. His thoughts were anything but professional, and he cursed himself for it.

When you finished your set, you turned to him with a hesitant smile. “How was that?”

“Perfect,” Levi said, his voice steadier now. He capped his bottle and set it down. “You’re a quick learner.”

The warmth in his praise made your chest swell, and for the first time all day, you felt like you belonged here. You smiled shyly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Levi nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You’re doing fine. Just keep at it.”

As you set the dumbbells down, you couldn’t help but notice the way he was watching you again, his gray eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. It made your heart race all over again, though you didn’t have the courage to call him out on it.

Instead, you grabbed your water bottle and took a sip, feeling your confidence slowly build. Maybe this gym thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Levi watched as you raised your water bottle, tipping it back for a drink. The soft curve of your neck as you swallowed caught his attention, but it was the stray droplet of water that escaped the corner of your mouth that undid him. It slid down slowly, tracing a path along your throat and disappearing beneath the neckline of your hoodie.

His throat tightened, and he felt the telltale heat rising in his face. His imagination betrayed him, picturing where that drop had gone—what it might have touched. He could tell even through the loose fabric that you were curvy in all the right places, and the thought made his mouth go dry. Levi swallowed hard, willing himself to look away, but his traitorous gaze lingered.

Damn it.

His body betrayed him next. Blood rushed southward, pooling in his groin, and he felt a telltale tightening against the fabric of his sweatpants. He cursed under his breath, adjusting his stance slightly in an attempt to hide the rapidly growing problem. But it was too late. The bulge was visible, and he knew it. His jaw tightened as he gripped his water bottle, trying to will himself back to professionalism. What the hell is wrong with me?

You, oblivious at first, capped your bottle and turned toward him, a casual smile on your lips as you wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie. But then your eyes dipped downward—just briefly—and you froze. Your mouth went dry as you caught sight of the unmistakable outline straining against Levi’s sweatpants. It was... significant.

No way. There’s no way.

Your cheeks flamed as the thought crossed your mind. Was he... turned on? By you? It seemed impossible. He was so toned and downright gorgeous, the kind of man who looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. And yet, the evidence was staring you in the face—literally.

You quickly looked away, feeling flustered and self-conscious. Maybe it was just... a gym thing? That could happen, right? But when you risked another glance, Levi’s hand flexed around his water bottle, and the tightness of his jaw told you he was very aware of what you’d seen.

Levi shifted uncomfortably, cursing himself again. His self-control, usually as solid as a fortress, was crumbling under the weight of his reaction to you. He was supposed to be professional, damn it. But there was something about you—your soft curves, your shy smile, the way you kept pushing through your insecurities—that made his usual stoicism falter.

"Everything okay?" you asked, your voice slightly higher than usual as you tried to break the silence. You hated how awkward you sounded, but you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Levi’s eyes snapped to yours, his expression unreadable. “Fine,” he said curtly, his voice deeper than usual. He cleared his throat, setting his water bottle on the bench beside him and crossing his arms again. “You’re doing good work. Keep it up.”

“Thanks,” you replied softly, though your voice wavered slightly. You tried to focus on his words, but your mind was still reeling.

He turned his head slightly, pretending to scan the gym, but his mind was elsewhere. His breathing had quickened, and he silently cursed himself for being so obvious. Get a grip, Levi.

You couldn’t help but steal another glance, your eyes drawn to the bulge no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. Your thoughts raced, filled with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Was this... normal? Or was it possible he found you attractive? You’d spent so long assuming men like Levi would never look twice at someone like you that the idea seemed almost absurd.

Levi caught your lingering gaze this time, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He could see the question written all over your face, and it only made his predicament worse. He had to say something—anything—to break the tension.

“Focus on your breathing during the movements,” he said abruptly, his tone sharper than he intended. “It helps.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his voice. “Oh, uh, right. Breathing. Got it.”

The awkwardness hung heavy between you for a moment before Levi stepped back, giving himself more space—and hopefully a chance to regain control. He grabbed his towel from the bench, using it as an excuse to turn away and adjust himself subtly.

When he faced you again, his expression was back to its usual impassive state, though his jaw was still tense. “Let’s move to the next exercise,” he said, his voice steady but clipped.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction, even as your thoughts continued to spiral. As you followed him to the next set of weights, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was that really about me? Or am I imagining things?

Levi, meanwhile, was wrestling with his own thoughts, trying to push past the image of your flushed cheeks and the way you’d looked at him—like you were just as affected as he was. But for now, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Anything to stop himself from dwelling on how soft your body had felt under his hands... or how much he’d liked it.

He led you toward one of the bench press stations, walking with the purposeful stride of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. He grabbed a bench and a barbell, quickly adjusting the weights with practiced ease. The clang of the plates echoed in the gym, drawing a few casual glances from others, but Levi’s focus was entirely on you.

“We’ll start light,” he said, his tone professional as he set the barbell down. “Thirty pounds. Shouldn’t be too much.”

You nodded nervously, sitting on the bench and adjusting your hoodie. You weren’t sure about this—lifting anything above your head sounded like a disaster waiting to happen—but you trusted him. Levi crouched beside you, his intense gray eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation.

“You good?” he asked, his voice a touch softer now.

You nodded, gripping the barbell hesitantly. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Alright,” Levi said, straightening up. “Lie back, feet flat on the ground. Keep your grip just outside shoulder-width. I’ll spot you.”

You did as he instructed, lying back on the bench and positioning your hands on the barbell. Above you, Levi loomed like a sentinel, his hands hovering near the bar. You tried not to focus on how good he looked from this angle—his lithe body, sharp jawline, and that unreadable expression that somehow made your pulse race.

“Alright,” Levi said. “Lift on three. One... two... three.”

You pushed upward with all your strength, lifting the barbell off its rack. At first, it felt manageable, and you exhaled in relief. “Not too bad,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

Levi nodded approvingly. “Good. Now lower it slowly to your chest and push back up. Controlled movements.”

You followed his instructions, lowering the barbell carefully. But as you pushed it back up, your arms started to tremble. The weight felt heavier than you’d anticipated, and you could feel your grip slipping. Panic set in as the bar wobbled.

“Uh—uh—Levi—”

“Relax. I’ve got it,” he said sharply, his hands moving to catch the bar just as your arms gave out completely. He grabbed it with ease, lifting the weight back onto the rack as though it were nothing.

You let out a shaky breath of relief, but your gratitude quickly turned to mortification as you realized something. When Levi had leaned forward to catch the bar, his hips had shifted—bringing the unmistakable bulge in his sweatpants directly against your forehead.

HOLY SHIT.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as your mind spiraled. The contact was brief, but it was enough to make your skin feel like it was on fire. And to make matters worse, you couldn’t help but notice how amazing he smelled—a mix of fresh laundry and something musky and masculine that made your head spin.

Levi stiffened the moment he felt the faintest brush of contact, his entire body going rigid. A jolt of something he refused to name shot down his spine, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. His brain screamed at him to move, and he quickly stepped back, his face unreadable but his ears visibly red.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly, keeping his voice steady despite the turmoil in his head. “Didn’t mean to get that close.”

You sat up quickly, avoiding his gaze as your face burned with embarrassment. “It’s fine! Totally fine! I wasn’t paying attention—”

“Neither was I,” Levi cut in, his tone clipped. He grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink, trying to calm himself down. His hands flexed around the bottle as he fought to suppress the vivid memory of the accidental touch—and the way it had made his heart race.

There was a heavy silence between you, both of you too flustered to say anything. You fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie, sneaking a glance at him. His jaw was tight, and he seemed to be staring at a distant point on the wall, avoiding looking directly at you.

“Thanks for catching the bar,” you said finally, your voice soft.

Levi glanced at you, his gray eyes still sharp but less guarded now. “It’s my job. You did fine.”

You gave him a weak smile, still too mortified to feel any real pride in your effort. “I don’t think ‘fine’ is the word I’d use.”

He arched a brow, his expression softening just a fraction. “You didn’t drop it on your face. That’s a win.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and Levi’s lips twitched in what could almost be called a smile. He grabbed a nearby towel and handed it to you. “Take a breather. We’ll try something else in a bit.”

You nodded, grateful for the chance to recover—not just from the workout, but from the overwhelming heat still coursing through your body. As Levi turned to adjust the weights again, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift downward. The bulge was still... present, though he seemed to be doing his best to ignore it.

There’s no way, you thought to yourself, your stomach doing somersaults. There’s absolutely no way he’s... because of me!?

Levi, meanwhile, was giving himself a silent pep talk. Keep it together. You’re a professional. Act like one. But as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the way your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, he felt his resolve waver again.

“Focus,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the barbell so tightly his knuckles turned white. For both your sakes, he needed to pull himself together.

…

The rest of your workout with Levi passed in a blur of effort and determination. His sharp, focused instructions kept you grounded, and his hands—though thankfully staying professional this time—helped correct your form when needed. His stoic demeanor made him seem almost unflappable, but every now and then, you caught him glancing at you with a softness in his eyes that sent your pulse racing.

By the time you finished your final set of bodyweight squats, your legs felt like jelly, and your hoodie was damp with sweat. You flopped onto a nearby bench with an exhausted groan, clutching your water bottle like it was your lifeline.

“Done already?” Levi asked, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. His tone was teasing, but his face betrayed a flicker of concern.

You glanced up at him, your chest still heaving from exertion. “Already? I feel like I’ve run a marathon,” you said, your voice breathy but laced with humor.

Levi smirked—a barely-there expression that somehow felt like a victory. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Will I, though?” you shot back, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Because right now, I feel like I’m going to collapse.”

He shook his head, walking over and crouching in front of you. “You did good for your first day,” he said, his voice softer now. “You pushed through, even when you were nervous. Most people don’t make it past that.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks, Levi,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I really appreciate all your help today. I don’t think I could’ve figured this out on my own.”

He shrugged, standing back up. “That’s what a good trainer’s for.”

You felt a pang of disappointment at his words. Did he see this as part of a job? Maybe he was trying to recruit you as a client? You weren’t sure why that idea bothered you, but it did. Shaking the thought from your head, you forced yourself to smile. “Well, you’re a really good one.”

Levi tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he unlocked it with a quick swipe of his thumb.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly, watching as he scrolled through his apps before handing the phone to you.

“Add your number,” he said simply, his tone calm and direct.

Your jaw dropped. “W-what?”

Levi arched a brow, his gray eyes locking onto yours. “You’ll need it if you have questions about your workouts,” he said, his voice steady but with a hint of something warmer beneath. “Or... anything else.”

Your heart practically leapt into your throat. Was he serious? Was this actually happening? You stared at the phone in your hands, your fingers trembling slightly as you opened the contacts app. Your mind raced as you typed in your name and number, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Okay,” you said finally, handing the phone back to him. “All set.”

Levi glanced down at the screen, his thumb brushing over the name you’d entered. “Good,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I’ll text you so you have mine.”

You nodded, trying not to let your nervous excitement show. “Thanks. That’s... really helpful.”

He smirked slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Just don’t text me at three in the morning asking about squat form,” he said, his tone dry but laced with a subtle warmth.

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. “No promises.”

Levi’s smirk widened ever so slightly, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn his gaze softened again. “Good. Now go home and rest. You earned it.”

You stood up, wobbling slightly on your tired legs, and grabbed your things. “I will. Thanks again, Levi.”

He nodded, watching as you turned toward the exit. But just as you were about to leave, his voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You turned back, your heart skipping a beat. “Yeah?”

Levi’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a quiet intensity that made your stomach flip. “Don’t quit. You’ve got potential.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Then, slowly, you smiled—a genuine, radiant smile that made Levi’s chest tighten.

“I won’t,” you said softly. “See you around, Levi.”

With that, you walked out of the gym, your heart racing and your mind spinning. You glanced at your phone as soon as you stepped outside, a small thrill running through you when you saw the new message:

Levi Ackerman:Here’s my number. Don’t be a stranger.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face as you saved his contact. Maybe—just maybe—this gym thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

After leaving the weight area, you made your way to the locker room to change out of your sweaty hoodie. Peeling it off, you glanced down at the fitted T-shirt you had on underneath. It hugged your figure more than you liked, clinging to your curves in a way that made you self-conscious. You tugged at the hem nervously, wishing you’d brought something looser. But it wasn’t a big deal—you were leaving anyway.

Grabbing your things, you headed out toward the exit. That’s when you noticed something odd: Levi’s phone was still sitting on the bench where you’d been earlier. You frowned, looking around the gym. He was nowhere in sight. Just as you were debating whether to leave it there, the phone started vibrating, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.

You bit your lip, glancing around again. Surely Levi would come back for it soon. But after two minutes passed and the phone kept buzzing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the call might be important. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to miss something urgent.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, picking up the phone. “I’ll just find him real quick.”

Clutching the device, you scanned the gym. Finally, you spotted him walking out of the cardio area and disappearing into a private door near the back. The sign read: Exclusive Members Sauna.

You hesitated, unsure of what to do. Surely he’d notice his phone was missing soon and come back out, right? You leaned against the wall, waiting awkwardly as people passed by. Five minutes turned into ten, and still, Levi didn’t emerge.

Sighing, you debated leaving the phone at the front desk and heading home. But just as you were about to turn away, the door to the sauna opened, and Levi stepped out.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Levi was wearing nothing but a towel, loosely wrapped around his waist. His lean, muscular frame was glistening with moisture, droplets of water tracing the lines of his defined abs and the sharp contours of his chest. His ink-black hair was damp, plastered to his forehead in a way that only made him look more effortlessly attractive. His posture was relaxed, but the moment he saw you standing there with his phone in hand, his gray eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the surprise evident. His gaze flicked to his phone in your hand, then back to your face.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You were too busy staring—shamelessly staring. Every inch of him looked like it had been sculpted from marble, and the way the towel hung precariously on his hips was doing unspeakable things to your imagination. Your cheeks burned as you tried to force your brain to function.

“I, uh—” you stammered, holding up his phone as if that explained everything. “You left your phone on the bench, and it kept ringing, so I... thought you might need it.”

Levi blinked, processing your words. “Right,” he said after a pause, stepping closer to take the phone from you. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Thanks. Didn’t realize I’d left it.”

As he took the phone, his eyes fell to your shirt. The fitted fabric clung to your body in a way your hoodie hadn’t, accentuating the soft swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Levi’s throat tightened as he felt his body respond yet again. The dampness of the sauna and the sight of you standing there, looking so effortlessly gorgeous, was almost too much.

His gaze lingered, drinking you in. You looked delicious in his eyes, and the way the fabric stretched over your curves was driving him insane. He knew he shouldn’t be staring, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your eyes met his, and the air between you shifted. The surprise in his expression faded, replaced by something darker, more intense. His pupils dilated slightly as his gaze held yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body—not just from the sauna, but from the tension that now crackled in the space between you.

Neither of you spoke, caught in a moment of pure, shameless lust. Your lips parted slightly as you tried to find something to say, but your mind was blank. All you could think about was how close he was, how good he smelled—a mix of clean soap and something deeper, more masculine—and how the towel around his waist seemed dangerously close to slipping.

Levi’s jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his composure. He’d always prided himself on his self-control, but with you standing there, looking at him like that, he could feel his resolve slipping. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before.

“You...” he started, his voice rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his words instead of the way the water droplets on his chest seemed to glisten in the light. “It—it’s okay,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just thought it might be important.”

Levi nodded, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Thanks,” he said again, his tone quieter now.

Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. The space between you seemed to thrum with something unspoken but undeniably intense. Your breath hitched as you saw Levi’s gray eyes flicker to your lips, his gaze darkening with an intensity that made your heart race. Then, slowly, deliberately, he licked his lips.

The action sent a wave of heat coursing through your body, and you were sure he could see the way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. His movements were careful, calculated, as he stepped closer. You could feel the energy radiating off him, the air growing thicker with every step.

By the time he stopped in front of you, he was so close you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your skin. His damp, black hair clung to his forehead, framing his sharp features, and his voice was a low rumble when he finally spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question made your head spin. You didn’t respond with words—your body moved before your brain could catch up. You reached up, your hands finding his chest, and smashed your lips against his with a desperate kind of hunger.

Levi froze for half a second, clearly surprised by your boldness. But then his arms were around you, pulling you flush against him as he responded with equal fervor. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a passion that made your knees weak. His hands slid down to your waist, squeezing gently as if to ground himself in the moment.

He hadn’t planned this—not even close. But from the second he saw you walk into the gym, Levi knew you were different. And now, with your soft body pressed against his, your lips moving against his like you’d been waiting for this as long as he had, he didn’t care about plans or professionalism or anything else.

His hands tightened around your waist, his fingers digging into the soft curves he’d only been able to admire from a distance until now. He loved the way you felt under his touch—soft, warm, and so very real. The towel around his waist felt dangerously precarious as his body responded to you, but Levi couldn’t bring himself to care.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders. The sound drove him wild, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your head spin. His chest pressed against you, firm and slick with moisture from the sauna, and you felt the heat between your legs grow unbearable.

Levi pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering over yours, his breath ragged. His gray eyes were dark with lust, and his voice was low and rough when he spoke.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You couldn’t help but smile, your own breathing just as unsteady. “I think I have an idea.”

He chuckled softly, the sound more of a rumble in his chest. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the curve of your waist. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw. “Soft... and dangerous.”

You shivered at his words, your body arching into his touch. “And what about you?” you shot back, your voice breathy. “You’ve been staring at me all day.”

Levi smirked, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Can you blame me?”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, and the world around you disappeared. It was just him—his scent, his taste, the way his hands felt on your body—and you never wanted it to end.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His sharp gray eyes flicked downward, and that’s when he saw it. The damp spot between your legs. Levi felt a jolt of heat shoot through him, and he cursed softly under his breath. You were soaked, and the knowledge sent his restraint spiraling further out of reach.

His gaze shifted upward, catching the way your hardened nipples poked through the fabric of your fitted T-shirt. He licked his lips, his mind racing. He knew he shouldn’t—knew this was crossing every line he’d ever drawn for himself—but the sight of you, flushed and trembling, was enough to make him say to hell with it.

“Fuck it,” Levi muttered, his voice low and rough.

Before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and pulled you toward the empty changing rooms near the sauna. “Levi—” you started, but your words died on your lips as he glanced back at you, his intense gray eyes filled with pure, unfiltered desire. The look in his eyes made your knees weak, and you let him lead you without resistance.

As soon as you stepped into the changing room, Levi shut the door behind you, the lock clicking into place. The small, enclosed space was quiet except for the sound of your breathing, both of you already panting from the intensity of the moment. You barely had time to register the faint smell of clean linen and cedar before Levi was on you again.

His hands cupped your face as his lips crashed into yours, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped you. Levi groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, brushing against yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You kissed him back just as eagerly, your hands tangling in his damp, black hair.

Levi’s hands left your face, moving down to your waist as he pulled you closer, his grip firm and possessive. He squeezed, his fingers digging into your soft curves, and you felt him press against you—hard and unrelenting. The sensation made your breath hitch, and your hands slid down to grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re so soft,” Levi murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need. “So perfect.”

You opened your mouth to protest—you were still sweaty, still flushed from your workout—but Levi silenced you by trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. “Don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t hide from me.”

His lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you let out a sharp gasp, your hands tightening on his shoulders. Levi smirked against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction, and began kissing and nibbling along your neck. Each touch of his lips sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you could feel the wetness between your legs growing.

Levi pressed you against the wall, one hand slipping under your shirt to grip your waist directly. His fingers brushed against your bare skin, and you shivered at the contact. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gray eyes burning with intensity.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse and almost pleading.

But you didn’t want him to stop. You shook your head, your hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his skin. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain.

That was all Levi needed to hear. His lips were on yours again, hungrier this time, as his hands began roaming over your body. One hand slid down to your hip, squeezing gently, while the other moved up to cup your breast through your shirt. You let out a soft moan as his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple, and Levi groaned in response, his mouth moving back to your neck.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “Better than I imagined.”

You barely registered his words, too lost in the sensation of his hands and lips. Your own hands moved down to his waist, brushing against the edge of the towel that still hung loosely around him. The thought of what lay beneath made your core throb, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning again.

Levi’s kisses grew more urgent as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body flush against yours. He didn’t care that you were still sweaty, didn’t care about anything except the way you felt in his arms. His hands slid back down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he rocked his hips against yours. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you.

“You’re incredible,” Levi said softly, his lips brushing against your ear. His hands tightened on your waist, his body trembling slightly as he fought to keep control. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this before.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Me neither,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Levi’s lips curled into a small, almost disbelieving smile before he kissed you again, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

His hands roamed lower, his fingertips teasing down your sides before settling on your hips. His grip was firm, commanding, as if he wanted to memorize the shape of you, to make sure you knew just how much he wanted you. His fingers flexed slightly before he slid them lower, cupping the full, soft curve of your ass in both hands.

You gasped, your body jolting at the unexpected touch, and that was all the opening Levi needed. He seized the opportunity, tilting his head and slipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss in an instant. His tongue moved against yours, hot and hungry, tasting you in a way that made your knees weak.

A moan escaped you, swallowed instantly by Levi as his hands squeezed, molding your plush curves in his grip. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips, sending heat pooling between your thighs. He pulled you even closer, grinding his hips against you just enough to make you feel the full extent of how much he wanted you.

You whimpered into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his damp, black hair. He was devouring you now, kissing you like he had no intention of stopping, like he wanted to drown in you. You responded with the same desperate energy, pressing your body against his, reveling in the heat radiating from his skin.

Levi let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his breathing ragged as his hands kneaded your flesh, his thumbs brushing against the curve where your ass met your thighs. He was losing himself, every ounce of his usual restraint slipping away with each second your body was pressed against his. He wanted you, needed you, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t give a damn about holding back.

His kisses grew rougher, more urgent, as he trailed them from your mouth down to your jawline. He nipped lightly at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue, his breath hot against your flushed skin. His hands were restless, tracing patterns over your curves, committing them to memory as if he were afraid this moment might disappear.

“You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your neck, his voice husky and strained, filled with something dangerously close to desperation. “Soft… perfect.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his hair. The way he spoke, the way he touched you—it made your stomach flutter, made the wetness between your thighs even more unbearable. You never thought someone like Levi—strong, stoic, disciplined—could lose his composure over you, but the evidence was undeniable. His kisses, his hands, the way he pressed himself against you—it all told you exactly how much he wanted you.

Levi’s hands slid back up to your waist, gripping you firmly as he guided you further against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He kissed down the column of your throat, his lips warm and demanding, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He paused at the base of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your sensitive skin before he sucked gently, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

Your head tilted back against the wall, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants. “Levi…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, his hips pressing into yours with more intent. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the subtle, almost imperceptible way your thighs pressed together. He knew. He knew you were soaked for him. And the thought nearly shattered what little self-control he had left.

Levi pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, but his breathing betrayed him—deep, heavy, as if he were barely restraining himself. His hands smoothed over your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles against your sides.

The tension between you was unbearable. Every touch, every heated glance, every stolen breath between kisses only fueled the fire raging inside you. You didn’t just want him—you needed him. The restraint that had kept you tethered to reason was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered desire.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you whispered, voice breathless and shaky, “Levi… I need you.”

Levi froze for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath heavy and ragged. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tightened at your words. His hands, which had been gripping your waist with controlled force, now trembled slightly as if he were fighting some inner battle. But it was futile.

He exhaled sharply, his gray eyes dark with something primal, something dangerous. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Before you could respond, Levi’s hands were at your waist, his grip firm and commanding. With one swift motion, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your leggings and tore them down your thighs. The cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the way his hands moved over your exposed flesh, mapping out every curve like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You barely had time to process before he grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your breath hitched, hands scrambling for purchase against his damp skin as he backed you up against the cold tiled wall of the locker room.

“You feel so fucking good,” Levi murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your pulse as he held you up like you weighed nothing. His fingers trailed up your thigh, teasing, until they found the thin barrier of your underwear. He pressed his palm against the heat between your legs, and the sensation made you whimper.

Levi inhaled sharply, his body tensing. “So wet,” he groaned, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your already sensitive core. The friction sent shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t stop the way your hips instinctively bucked against his touch.

You could feel him, all of him, pressing against you through the thin fabric of his towel. He was hard—achingly so—and there was no ignoring the way his length throbbed against your inner thigh, barely restrained. The sheer size of him made you gulp, and heat pooled in your stomach at the realization.

Without thinking, you reached down, your fingers grazing against the outline of his manhoodl. The moment you made contact, Levi’s entire body shuddered, his breath hitching.

“Shit—” he hissed, his grip on you tightening.

Encouraged by his reaction, you slid your hand lower, palming him through the thin towel. Levi moaned, his head dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned, his voice raw with need.

Your fingers worked under the towel until you could fully grasp him. The moment your hand wrapped around his heated length, Levi let out a sharp, almost desperate curse.

“Goddamn it—” he bit out, his hips jerking into your touch, completely losing the control he so fiercely held onto.

His skin was hot beneath your fingers, smooth and throbbing with need. You stroked him slowly, teasingly, watching the way his body reacted to your touch. Levi's breath grew heavier, his jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers dug into your hips as if grounding himself.

But then—his control shattered.

With a guttural curse, Levi tore your underwear aside, his fingers wasting no time as he slipped two thick fingers into your drenched pussy. You cried out, your back arching against the wall as pleasure shot through you like lightning. His fingers curled inside you, slow at first, then faster, exploring you like he wanted to memorize every inch.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Levi growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “So perfect.”

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he worked you open with precision, his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your clit. Every movement was calculated, designed to make you unravel completely.

You whimpered, barely able to form a coherent thought. “Levi—”

“Say my name again,” he ordered, his voice rough with desire.

You moaned, tilting your head back, completely at his mercy. “Levi—please—”

Levi groaned at the sound of your voice, his movements growing rougher, more desperate. He wanted to feel you come apart, wanted to watch you lose yourself to him, and only him.

And god, you were already so close.

But just as you were about to reach your peak, trembling in Levi’s arms as waves of pleasure built up inside you, he suddenly pulled his fingers away. The absence was immediate and jarring, leaving you gasping at the loss. A desperate whine left your lips as your body clenched around nothing, the high you had been so close to shattering right in front of you.

"Levi—" you panted, frustration thick in your voice as you squirmed in his grasp.

Levi smirked, his gray eyes dark and filled with something wicked as he took in your wrecked expression. “Tch. What a brat,” he muttered, amusement lacing his voice. He let his fingers drag along the inside of your thigh, teasing, but never giving you what you wanted.

Your breath hitched, heat surging through you again, but you pouted, pushing at his chest weakly. “That was mean…”

Levi leaned in close, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he whispered, “You’ll survive.” His voice was low, teasing, yet filled with something undeniably heated.

But before you could whine again, your breath caught in your throat as you felt something new—something much thicker, much harder—pressing against your core. Your entire body tensed, your hands gripping his shoulders as realization hit you.

He was lining himself up against you, his heavy length brushing against your soaked entrance. You swallowed hard, nerves and anticipation intertwining in your chest. He was big, and the idea of him stretching you made heat flood through you like wildfire.

Levi, noticing your reaction, ran his hands over your thighs, gripping them firmly as he held you against the wall. His voice was rough, strained with his own desire. “Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, trusting him completely as he slowly pushed forward, the head of his length breaching your entrance. A sharp gasp left you as the stretch burned, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Levi froze immediately, his jaw clenching as he fought for control.

“Too much?” he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

You took a shaky breath, adjusting to the size of him, before shaking your head. “Just… give me a second.”

Levi swallowed hard, his muscles tensed like a coiled spring, his fingers flexing against your thighs. “Take all the time you need,” he said, though his voice betrayed just how hard it was for him to hold back.

After a few moments, the initial discomfort began to fade, replaced by something deeper, something intoxicating. You met his gaze, heat swirling in your belly. “You can move,” you whispered.

Levi exhaled sharply, his control barely hanging by a thread as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but the pleasure that followed made your body shudder. He let out a low groan, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hands tightening on your thighs. “You’re so—damn—tight.”

You whimpered at his words, at the way his body pressed so perfectly against yours, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling. But you could feel him holding back, keeping himself reigned in when all you wanted was for him to lose control.

“Levi…” You gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Harder. Faster.”

His entire body tensed, a shudder running through him at your words. He tilted his head back, his gray eyes meeting yours, searching, as if making sure you meant it. And when he saw the desperate need in your expression, something inside him snapped.

His grip tightened, and without another word, he adjusted his stance and slammed into you. A loud, gasping moan tore from your throat as he buried himself to the hilt, the force of his thrust pressing you harder against the cold wall.

“Shit—” Levi growled, his voice strained, his self-control completely shattered. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through you, your hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

Your head tilted back, your eyes rolling at the sheer intensity of it all. “Levi—oh my God—” you gasped, your entire body trembling as he hit deeper, his pace unrelenting.

Levi groaned in response, watching the way you unraveled for him, how your body took every thrust, how your mouth hung open in pure bliss. His fingers slid down, finding your clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and commanding. “I want to feel you come around me.”

The coil inside you snapped, your back arching sharply as pleasure exploded through you, your vision going white. A strangled cry left your lips as your body convulsed, waves of bliss washing over you in an overwhelming rush.

Levi let out a harsh groan, his movements growing sloppy as he felt you tighten around him. His grip on your thighs bruised as he chased his own release, his breath ragged.

“Fuck—” he gritted out, his rhythm stuttering. With one final, deep thrust, he pulled out, his jaw clenched as he spilled himself all over your stomach, his body shuddering violently as he came undone.

The air in the changing room was thick with heat and the lingering scent of sweat and something far more intoxicating. Your body trembled in Levi’s arms, your skin still tingling from the waves of pleasure that had crashed through you moments before. Your breaths were uneven, desperate attempts to steady yourself after what could only be described as the most exhilarating experience of your life.

Levi’s forehead rested against yours, his damp black hair sticking to his skin. His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths, but his arms remained firm around you, keeping you locked against him as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His grip was possessive, his fingers idly stroking over your thigh where they still held you in place.

You exhaled a shaky laugh, tilting your head slightly so your nose brushed against his. “That was…” you trailed off, searching for the right word, but nothing seemed to do it justice.

Levi huffed out a quiet chuckle, something rare and utterly intoxicating to hear from him. His lips, still slightly swollen from kissing you, curled into a smirk. “Tch. You can say it,” he muttered, his voice rough from exertion. “Best workout of your life?”

You let out a soft laugh, your body finally beginning to relax against him. “Understatement of the century,” you admitted, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his shoulder.

Levi exhaled, finally loosening his grip just enough to let your legs slide down from his waist. Your feet touched the cool tile, but your knees nearly buckled beneath you, and he caught you effortlessly, his grip tightening at your waist.

“Easy,” he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice as he steadied you. “Did I wear you out that bad?”

You gave him a pointed look, your cheeks still burning from everything that had just transpired. “A little.”

Levi’s smirk widened, his hands not moving from your waist. “Consider it your post workout stretch.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it. Instead, you rested your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, your body still humming with the aftershocks of what had just happened. Levi let you stay there, his hands rubbing slow, soothing circles against your hips, grounding you.

After a moment, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his. “So… is this a one-time thing?” you asked softly, unable to keep the hesitation from creeping into your voice.

Levi’s expression shifted, the teasing edge fading. His sharp gray eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, you saw something deeper, something raw beneath his usual stoicism. He reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before letting his fingers linger against your cheek.

“No,” he said simply, his voice lower now, more certain. “I don’t want it to be.”

Your breath hitched at his words, at the quiet certainty in them. A slow smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Levi sighed, finally stepping back fully, though his hand remained on your waist as if reluctant to break contact completely. His eyes flickered downward, and his smirk returned when he saw the mess on your stomach.

“We should probably clean you up,” he muttered, though there was amusement in his tone.

Your face burned again. “Yeah, you made a bit of a mess.”

Levi just shrugged, grabbing a clean towel from the nearby shelf and handing it to you. “I couldn’t help myself… not when you look like that.”

He grabbed his joggers, pulling them back on and leaned against the wall as he watched you clean yourself up. His gaze remained on you, softer now, less intense but still filled with something unreadable. Once you were done and put your clothes back on, you turned to him, still slightly nervous despite everything that had just happened.

“So…” you started, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What now?”

Levi studied you for a long moment before shaking his head slightly, as if you’d just asked something ridiculous. He stepped forward, reaching to grab his phone. He unlocked it, tapped at the screen a few times, then turned it to face you.

It was a text message. From him. To you.

Levi Ackerman: Next gym session. Tomorrow. Same time.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

Levi smirked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “It’s my way of making sure you don’t quit.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or bossy.”

“Both,” he said smoothly, reaching down to grab his shirt and pull it over his head. “Get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Guess I don’t have a choice, huh?”

Levi stepped closer, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before he pulled away. “Nope.”

Your heart stuttered at the simple gesture, at the way his fingers lingered for just a second too long. This wasn’t just a heat-of-the-moment thing for him. You could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at you even now, in the way he wasn’t trying to rush out the door.

This was something more.

Levi exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before giving you one last glance. “Go home. Get some rest,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “Tomorrow.”

As you turned to leave, you felt Levi’s gaze on you the entire time. And just before you stepped out of the changing room, you glanced over your shoulder.

Levi was still standing there, watching you, his expression unreadable—but the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he was holding himself back from grabbing you again—it told you everything you needed to know.

This was only the beginning.

~

Masterlist | Patreon

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Miss Me, Miss Me Not

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

And it hits me when the lights go on (shit, maybe I miss you)

(In which a lazy writer somehow still manages to make her deadlines, much to her own shock)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff

Words: 5.8K

TW: Swearing (once again I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I'm not gonna lie til about an hour ago, I very much did not think I was gonna give y'all a Monday update but here we are! A couple of housekeeping things, I went back and added months to the years so hopefully that's more helpful. I lowkey dislike this part but I felt like the fic needed it and I'm excited to write the next part. Ngl, the editing on this is pretty nonexistent because trying to read this back lowkey killed me so please feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, and disliked and anything you wanna see going forward. I really appreciate all of y'alls feedback and the long reviews make my day! Have a good rest of your week lovies <3

September 2017

Azzi: just got home :) 

It’s a simple text and it should be easy for Paige to conjure up an equally simple reply. Instead she finds herself typing and deleting, over and over, because nothing sounds quite right. There’s this hollow feeling thrumming in her chest, that has only gotten stronger every passing minute since she’d said goodbye to Azzi at the airport. If she tries hard enough, she can still feel the remnants of their last hug lingering against every inch of her skin. She wants to memorize that feeling and create a blanket out of its threads to numb the ice cold shiver that’s been repeatedly running through her veins from the second Azzi had gotten on that plane. But even that might not be enough. Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison. 

Paige lies to herself that it’s an accidental slip of her fingers, that she’d meant to press send not call, that she had every intention of hanging up the facetime on the first ring itself. 

But then Azzi picks up on the second one.

And really it would be rude to hang up. 

“Hey what’s up?” Azzi’s face fills the screen, tired eyes staring intently at Paige through the screen. 

“Oh um-” Paige fumbles for words, awkwardly shuffling her feet that are dangling off the side of her bed, “I just wanted to ask how your flight was?”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “you couldn’t have texted me that?”

“Too tired to text,” Paige lies and the words i just wanted to hear your voice stay stuck, burning hot, in her throat, “gotta save these money-making fingers for more important things.”

“Yeah I’m hanging up-”

“NO-” it comes out far more forceful than it should and if possible, Azzi’s eyebrow shoots up even farther, as Paige clears her throat, “I mean- uh- you didn’t tell me how your flight was.”

Paige is too busy cringing at herself to notice the light blush that tinges Azzi’s cheeks. She’s too busy wondering why this girl brings out this nervous bumbling side of hers to notice the fond smile that almost cracks through Azzi’s lips. 

“The flight was okay. I actually got to sleep this time,” Azzi says pointedly and Paige laughs. 

“So what you’re saying is it was boring as hell.”

“I’m saying it was really peaceful not having someone yapping in my ear while I was trying to sleep.”

“So you didn’t miss me?” Paige presses, trying to keep her voice teasing despite how desperately she wants the admission. 

Azzi hesitates, as if she’s debating with herself, before, “I didn’t say that.”

It’s a little ridiculous how large Paige’s grin is but it’s okay, because Azzi’s smiling back, soft and shy. They’d look foolish to anyone else, the way they’re so intently gazing at each other through a screen as if there’s no barrier between them at all. 

“It’s gonna be weird going to the gym without you tomorrow morning,” Paige confesses after a second, moving to lay down on her stomach. 

“I bet. You’re gonna get absolutely nothing done without me,” Azzi teases dramatically before her eyes soften, “it’s weird that I’m not gonna see you at all tomorrow.”

There’s something gut-wrenching about that admission and yet, there’s something in it that heals a part of Paige’s heart that she hadn’t even known needed to be fixed. It means something to her that Azzi must feel it too. Because if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been just a little afraid that maybe the connection was just in her head, that maybe Azzi was simply tolerating her presence out of kindness. 

“You should just move to Minnesota,” Paige replies finally, “much nicer than Virgina or whatever.”

“Have you ever even been to Virginia?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she flips herself to lie on her back, holding her phone above her in a way that lets Paige see entirely too much and yet not nearly enough. 

“No but it sounds boring as fuck.”

“Not with me,” Azzi says, biting her bottom lip sheepishly as soon as the words are out. 

Paige smirks, suddenly filled with a brand new confidence, “yeah? You’d make Virgina interesting for me Fudd? What would we do?”

Azzi licks her lips and Paige feels her mouth go dry. 

“We’d be together,” the younger girl says finally, averting her gaze as the depth of her words begin to make Paige feel like she’s being flooded by an ocean of emotions she’s not quite ready to feel yet, “anything can be interesting if we’re together.”

It would be so easy to come up with a sarcastic quip or tease Azzi for being a sap and yet there’s a certain sincerity in this moment that feels too fragile for Paige to feign nonchalance. 

“Is Virginia nice in the winter?” she asks finally, hands fidgeting with the hair ties secured around her wrist, “Minny’s a little too cold sometimes.”

Azzi’s eyes shine and Paige wants to try and read them, find the little clues hidden in her irises and solve the mystery lingering behind the crimson flush of her cheeks. But the truth is that Paige is a little scared of what she’d find, a little scared that discovering Azzi might mean discovering herself too. 

“You should come find out some time,” the brunette says, casual tone filled with intricacies of something far deeper. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to saying anything of actual substance and they tip-toe around saying what they both want, daring the other to ask first. 

“I dunno,” Paige says, determined to win the game, “I’m not in the habit of showing up to places without a proper invite.”

Azzi scoffs, “a proper invite? Are you expecting someone to send you a carrier pigeon with a gold letter addressed to her royal highness or something?”

“That would be nice,” Paige surmises and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Does your back ever hurt from carrying that ego?”

“Only hurts from carrying my team.”

“Oh my god you’re so full of it.”

“Full of talent? Yessirrrr.”

Azzi huffs, “Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige hums. 

“Do you wanna come visit me in Virginia during winter break?” Azzi says finally, a small smile playing on her lips like she’s okay with losing this game as long as it’s to Paige. 

“If I must,” Paige says dramatically, shrugging her shoulders and everything as Azzi lets out an offended squeak. But inside, her heart flutters at the offer, at the idea of seeing Azzi again, even if it feels like a lifetime away. Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes. 

“Actually you know what nevermind, you don’t gotta come,” Azzi concedes bitterly,  scrunching her face (and Paige would never tell her this but she thinks Azzi looks just a little too cute when she’s mad and so maybe she riles her up on purpose)

“No takesies backsies Az,” Paige sing-songs before her lips uptick from a smirk into something more sincere, “hey Az,” she whispers, giggling to herself when Azzi pretends to ignore her, “I’d really like to come see you in Virginia during winter break.”

And as a brilliant grin dazzles across Azzi’s face, Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige. 

“Good,” Azzi whispers as they fall into a comfortable silence. 

There’s this serene sense of calm that laces itself around Paige’s nerves. Her normally fidgeting body is content to be perfectly still, an anomaly to her usual demeanor. The truth is that Paige isn’t the kind of person who’s okay with just existing; she likes to spend every second in motion, living out the high. There’s a part of her that’s scared of missing moments, scared that the people around her will leave her behind if she doesn’t chase them. But it’s different with Azzi. The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind. 

“Wait,” it’s a little while before Azzi pipes up, shaking Paige out of her thoughts, “what time is it?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to the time on her phone, confused by the line of questioning, “it’s almost 9 why?”

“Don’t you have a team party or something to go to tonight?” Azzi asks, face scrunching, “I swear you told me you had something tonight.”

“Oh-yeah- Amaya’s back to school thing,” Paige sheepishly scratches her neck, suddenly feeling itchy in her flannel shirt. She’d forgotten she was wearing that instead of her daily clothes. Hell, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be going somewhere in the first place, too occupied with other thoughts. 

“Bro get up,” Azzi orders, “you’re already late.”

“Nah it’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Paige says and she thinks she should probably feel a little more guilty about it. 

“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Azzi asks in disbelief, “dude you’re the star of the team. You have to go.”

“Amaya will understand besides-” Paige drags in a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as the next words fall out in a quiet whisper, “I don’t wanna hang up yet.”

“Paige c’mon we can talk tomorrow,” Azzi tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I wanna talk right now,” Paige argues, “you don’t wanna talk to me?”

For a second Paige thinks Azzi might just say no, might just chip away a little bit of heart with a well-intentioned rejection, but she doesn’t, “always wanna talk to you P.”

“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me.”

And Azzi does. All night. 

Two weeks laters there’s a letter, in an envelope with a picture of a carrier pigeon, that arrives in the Bueckers’ mail box. 

To her royal highness, 

Unfortunately I couldn’t find an actual carrier pigeon (I swear I tried) so this envelope and the mailman will have to do. 

~ You are formally invited this winter break to the Fudd family residence in Virginia. ~

(And you better show up Bueckers)

Yours, 

Azzi

February 2033

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Ice whines petulantly as she makes herself comfortable on the couch across from where Paige is getting her makeup done, “this is parental neglect.”

Paige laughs, eyes closed, her makeup artist does her mascara, “you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that” Ice argues, plucking a grape from the fruit basket before segueing into a rant about how boring Arlington, Texas is. 

Paige is grateful for the distraction her younger friend is providing. Her nerves had been on edge since the moment she’d woken up this morning, anxious to get the impending farewell press conference over with. She’d already started accepting that the Wings weren’t the right place for her but that feeling had only been heightened by her trip to the Valkyries. And ever since she’s come back, Paige feels a little bit like she’s sleepwalking through her final moments in Dallas. If she’s honest, she’s probably rushing things a little bit. There’s still plenty of time before she really has to move to Oakland but it had been her choice to move there as soon as possible. Paige had always been good at conjuring excuses and she had plenty as to why she needed to be in California so soon. But at the end of the day it isn’t about training or team bonding or any of the other hundred justifications she’s given anyone who’s asked. It’s about a little girl who’s eyes had been brimming with tears when saying goodbye, a little girl who had made Paige pinky swear that she’d be back as soon as possible. 

Really, Paige thinks she should be applauded for her restraint, because truth be told, the second Stephie’s lower lip had trembled, Paige had been prepared to ask Ice to just ship her stuff to Oakland so that she’d never have to let go of the little girl’s hand. 

And here’s the thing, Paige is willing to admit she wants to go back to the Bay Area for Stephie. It’s that pesky little part of her that’s desperate to go back for Stephie’s mother, to go back for one more hesitant yet lingering touch, that she won’t ever share with anyone else. 

“I never thought I’d live to see you and Azzi willingly playing together again,” Ice says as soon as Paige’s makeup artist leaves the room, “KK and I didn’t even try betting on it, we were that sure it wouldn’t happen. Shit I should have. I totally would have won.”

“Don’t y’all get tired of betting on my life?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the first part of what Ice said. 

“Betting on your life has made me hundreds of dollars bro,” Ice says, before a more earnest  look crosses her face, “but genuinely P, are you sure about this? There’s a lot of history there.”

Paige sighs, “it’s not about our history. It’s a basketball decision. And we’re both mature adults who know that. I’m just tryna win. Nothing else.”

“It’s never nothing when it comes to you two.”

“It is this time,” Paige argues adamantly and Ice raises her hands in surrender. 

“I just don’t want another set of teammates to have to deal with y’alls bullshit,” the younger girl teases, but it’s laced with a hint of seriousness that sends a flare of guilt shooting through Paige’s body. 

“Ice-” she begins.

But Ice is quick to change to a lighter subject, “can’t believe Jana’s the one that gets mom and dad back together. I always knew she was the favorite.”

“We didn’t have favorites,” Paige plays along, thankful for Ice and her ability to always keep the tension to a bare minimum. 

“Oh don’t lie. We all know you did,” Ice scoffs and then lets out a chuckle, “and now Azzi’s actually a mom. That’s kinda insane. And you met the kid right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Paige says and she can’t help the way her entire face breaks into a gleaming smile as her thoughts turn into memories of Stephie. She doesn’t even realize she’s gotten lost in a different world until Ice coughs, an amused grin playing on her lips. 

“You’re so royally fucked Paige,” Ice shakes her head, “the only person I’ve seen you smile that big for before is Azzi.”

“She’s a cute, smart, adorable kid, that’s why I’m smiling,” Paige tries to defend herself. 

“She’s Azzi’s cute, smart, adorable kid,” Ice counters. 

“That has nothing to do with it,” Paige protests again but it rings hollow to her own ears.

“Oh my god I needa call KK and get this bet started. It’s only a matter of time for real,” Ice says, more to herself than to Paige, as she whips out her phone, probably texting KK. 

“A matter of time till what?”

“You’ll find out Paigey,” Ice says gravely with a mocking smile, patting Paige’s head, “all in due time.”

***

The Dallas Wings media room is buzzing, reporters desperate to ask Paige questions and the blonde tries to maintain a smile despite the fact that her heart is lurching in her throat right now. Her opening speech had been short and sweet, parroting basically the same thing that had gone out on her social media the night before; she’d been desperate to just get it out. Generally, Paige is pretty good with the media, having been immersed in the spotlight since basically forever. The attention and how to maneuver it has always come naturally to her so she’s not sure why she feels so unnerved by it all today.  From the back of the media room, Ice sends her a thumbs up and a reassuring grin and Paige lets out a breath, glad to have at least that comforting presence with her. 

“Aidrian Ginsburger with Bleacher Report, Paige, you’ve obviously spent all of your career so far with the Wings, can you tell us a little bit about the impact this organization has had on you?”

Paige smiles at the question, letting her brain skim through pages and pages of fond memories she has of time spent with this team. It might be time to move on but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of cherished moments. 

“Yeah um- this place has really shaped who I am as a person. Since day one, the front office, obviously it’s a different one to the one I came in with, they did a lot to make sure that I was comfortable. My teammates through the years have been incredible and I wouldn’t be the player I am today without them. And of course the fans you know, they always showed out for the team, for me. Always supported me in anyways and I hope that I was able to give back the love to them that they always gave to me,” she says, suddenly nostalgic for the team that had started it all. 

The next questions are similar in nature and Paige’s answer varies only in words but not substance. She feels herself start to settle into it, now fielding the expected questions about the Wings and Valkyries with an air of confidence. There are a couple questions about Azzi that make her heart thump, but that was to be expected. It’s a pretty brilliant story in the making, two MVPs who used to play on the same college team coming together. Talia had warned Paige in advance that there was no avoiding it. But for the most part the questions have an easy answer about how Azzi’s a brilliant player and she’s excited to play with her old friend again. That is until a familiar hand shoots up and all the tension that had previously dissipated, comes roaring back with a vengeance. 

“Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News, Paige, as others have said today, you and Azzi Fudd played together at UConn and you were best friends.” Olivia’s eyes glint viciously, “I mean it’s pretty well documented how hard you tried to recruit her to UConn. But despite being best friends, the two of you have been never seen hanging out, outside of games and formal events, unlike your other teammates that is-”

“Is there a point to this?” Paige asks, hands fisting in her lap as she tries to keep herself calm. 

Olivia smiles, sugary sweet, “I was just wondering if maybe there was some tension and how that would affect your on-court chemistry at the Valkyries?”

“There’s no tension,” Paige lies through gritted teeth, “we didn’t hang out because we live far apart. There isn’t much else to it. And even if there was, Azzi and I are professionals. We wouldn’t let anything off the court affect our goal to win.”

“You lived far apart before UConn too, but that didn’t seem to stop you guys. What changed?” Olivia presses.

“Time did. Our lives did. There’s nothing sensational here. It’s just a case of two people drifting apart,” Paige says and the fabrication feels heavy on her tongue. If only it really had been that simple. 

“But clearly not that much,” Olivia says, and Paige glances at the moderator, desperate for an intervention, “there were plenty of fan pictures of the two of you out getting ice cream with Azzi’s daughter. It seems like you’re already fitting into that Bay Area life-”

“I’m not hearing a question at the end of your sentence,” Paige hisses and she can practically already hear the scolding she’s going to get from Talia once her agent gets wind of how this press conference had gone. The entire media cohort is watching the exchange with wide eyes, no doubt questioning whether they were embarrassed or impressed by their colleague. Ice is mouthing something to Paige, probably something along the lines of please keep your shit together, but Paige is steaming. Really, she should have expected this. 

“Well if you’d let me finish,” Olivia snarls, the façade of innocence dropping, “even if the two of you have drifted, as you put it, clearly there’s still a relationship there. How big of a role did Azzi Fudd play in your choice to move to the Valkyries?”

Paige sucks in a deep breath, nails digging into her palm at the question, “Azzi is the best shooting guard in the country. That was her role in my decision to move to the Valkyries. I don’t know what else you’re trying to imply, but I want to play with her because we play well together. That’s it,” she stands up and there’s pin drop silence, “thank you all for coming but we’re done with this press conference. 

***

Paige is seething as she exits the media room, Ice hot on her heels trying to calm her down. The sane part of her knows she should head back to the makeup room or even to her car, instead she finds her feet carrying her in the direction of where she knows Olivia Reynolds will be, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine like she always is. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Paige spits as she comes to a halt in front of the reporter. 

“I know you think playing basketball is the only job in the world Paige, but that was a reporter doing her job,” Olivia says, her calm and composed voice only furthering Paige’s irritation. 

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Paige sneers, “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.”

Olivia cocks her head, “oh so you do remember who I am to you then?”

“Oliv-”

“Because if you did remember, I’d like to think you’d have the courtesy to at least personally tell me that you were moving to your,” she drops her voice, “ex-girlfriend’s team instead of letting me find out with the rest of the world. You don’t think you owed me that?”

“That’s what this is about?” Paige sighs, “Olivia we’ve been divorced for almost three years now, I don’t owe you-”

“You didn’t owe Azzi anything either,” Olivia whisper-yells, the calm in her voice replaced by the same anger that had tainted the last year of their marriage, “but when we first started dating, you kept us a secret for months. You wouldn’t even tell your fucking teammates cause you were so scared she’d find out,” her eyes drift towards Ice who looks like she wishes she’d made a different decision rather than following Paige out here, “you said she deserved to hear it from you but apparently I don’t-’

“I didn’t mean it like that Olivia. Look, I meant what I said up there. There’s nothing between- ”

“Spare me,” Olivia says, as she stuffs her notepad into her bag, “you can lie to all those other reporters out there about how all of this is a basketball decision. You can even lie to yourself if you want. But you can’t lie to me, not when I spent four years fighting to keep our relationship from getting crushed under whatever it is that Azzi is to you.”

***

It doesn’t matter how far Paige burrows her head into her pillows, she can’t seem to stop herself from hearing Olivia’s words reverberating through her ears. The two of them had done well at co-existing in their social circles after the divorce had been finalized. While no one could quite call them friends, they’d done a good job at being friendly, being able to converse and share an occasional drink when in their combined friend group. And if Paige is honest, she knows she’s fucked up, knows she probably did owe Olivia a call. But calling Olivia would have meant calling someone who would inevitably make Paige face the truth, just like she had today. The truth that, even with the deal Talia had concocted with the Liberty hanging in the background like a dark presence, the move to the Valkyries was about a lot more than just basketball for Paige. 

She’s so entrenched in her thought that she doesn’t bother checking who it is when the facetime rings, irritation seeping into her voice as she answers it, face still buried in her pillows, “WHAT?”

“Miss Buecks?” a tiny voice comes through the phone and for a second, Paige thinks she must be dreaming, until she finally lifts her head to look at her phone, and Stephie’s small face lights up the whole screen. And it’s like she can feel little hands on her shoulders, slowly unknotting her tightened muscles. 

“Stephie,” she breathes out, a sudden sense of serene calm washing over her previously tense body. 

“Hi Miss Buecks,” Stephie says happily before she squints at the screen, “you sleep weird.”

Paige laughs, “and why’s that?”

“You’re not wearing pajamas and it’s only seven. ‘Dults don’t sleep at seven,” Stephie says matter-of-factly. 

“It’s actually nine here,” Paige says, a little surprised by the time; she hadn’t realized she'd been moping in her bed for that long. Ice had forced her to get lunch together, not wanting to leave Paige alone after the encounter with Olivia. Once she’d finally gotten back to her apartment, Paige had flopped on her bed, taking out her frustrations on her poor pillow. 

“That’s not poss-ble,” Stephie scrunches her face, “Mama’s phone says it’s seven.”

“It’s seven in California, it’s nine in Texas,” Paige tries to explain though by the way Stephie’s looking at her, she thinks she’s probably just confusing the girl more, “how’d you figure out how to call me babe?”

Stephie gives her an exasperated look, “Miss Buecks I’m five. I know how to use facetime.”

“And does your Mama know you're facetiming me?” Paige asks, eyebrows raised.

“She’s in the shower,” Stephie whispers, grinning sheepishly. 

As if on cue, Azzi appears on the corner of the screen and Paige feels her mouth run dry. The darker skinned woman is clad in a light pink fluffy bathrobe that ends right above her knees, giving Paige the perfect view of her long, toned legs that seem to shimmer despite the shitty quality of the facetime. Rivulets of water cling to her neck, delicately cascading down the valley of her breasts before disappearing from sight. And Paige must be dehydrated because never has she wanted to taste a drop of liquid more than she does right now. 

“Stephie,” Azzi groans, as she walks towards the phone and Paige gulps, heart beating faster with every step the other woman takes, everything about her becoming clearer and clearer, “what did I say about using my phone.”

“Only in em-a-gencies,” Stephie recites, “but Mama I had an em-a-gency.”

Azzi tilts her head, eyebrows raised as she gives her daughter a knowing look, “and what was your emergency?”

“I really, really, really, this much” Stephie stretches out her hands as far as they’ll go,  really, really, really, miss Miss Buecks.”

Paige feels her heart flutter. Stephie’s words feel like a hand carefully pulling her out from under the pile of stress she’d been buried under the whole day. It’s like the little girl is pushing away the rubble pressing against her lungs, turning the rocks into dust with a light touch and Paige feels like she can finally breathe. 

“Sounds like a pretty big emergency to me,” she says, relishing the way Stephie’s face lights up at the admission, “cause I really, really, really miss you too Steph.”

“See Mama,” Stephie says, placing the phone against a wall so can place her hands on her hips and look up at Azzi with a pleased smirk. 

Azzi rolls her eyes before glaring at Paige, “you’re a bad influence on her.”

“I’m the best influence on her,” Paige argues, sending Stephie a conspiratorial wink, “just you wait Az, I’mma teach her all the good things.”

Something unreadable flashes across Azzi’s face before she’s back to looking at Paige with an unimpressed arched eyebrow, “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.”

“We’ll see,” Paige says slowly and Azzi shakes her head before turning to Stephie. 

“Alright Stephie bean time to go brush your teeth. It’s almost bedtime babes,” she says with a stern look 

“But Mama-”

“No arguing, you have school tomorrow missy,” Azzi reminds the little girl and Paige can’t help but marvel at the mother that Azzi’s become. And it makes her heart ache for the fantasies she’d dreamed of when she was in her early twenties. She’d always known Azzi would be a great mother; Paige had just naively thought she’d be there alongside her too. 

“Can Miss Buecks stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” Stephie asks, peering up at Azzi with big doe eyes, “please Mama pleeeease.”

“I’m sure Miss Buecks has other things-”

“I don’t,” Paige cuts in far too enthusiastically, clearing her throat to get back some semblance of restraint as both mother and daughter turn to look at each other, “I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can stay till you fall asleep Stephie.”

“YAYY,” Stephie cheers enthusiastically while Azzi studies her with a weary look, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then you can read me, my story Mama.”

With that, the little girl runs in the direction of what Paige can only assume is the bathroom, skipping with childlike joy as she sing-songs about something Paige can’t quite make out. 

“You know you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks right?” Azzi says slowly as she grabs her phone and sits on the couch. 

Paige shrugs, “I have time to stay.”

“Do you?” Azzi asks skeptically, “because from what I heard the Wings are having a little farewell party tonight, for you.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “and how exactly did you hear that?”

“I have connections.”

“You talked to Ice.”

“I talked to Ice,” Azzi concedes, “and I’m pretty sure you’re already an hour or so late for it.”

“Exactly. I’m already an hour late so why bother,” Paige says, sitting up so she can rest head against her headboard, “why were you talking to Ice?”

“I can’t talk to my friend?” Azzi asks slowly. 

“Of course you can but why specifically today?” Paige presses 

Azzi bites her lip, “I um- I watched your press conference today. You uh-” she averts her gaze, ��you seemed really stressed at the end and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A soft grin upturns Paige’s lips before she can stop it, “were you worried for me Fudd?”

“That’s not-” Azzi groans, “shut up.”

Paige smirks, “you were worried for me.”

“I was concerned for my future teammate," Azzi huffs, “besides,” her face hardens, “she was way out of line.”

Paige sighs at the implied mention of Olivia, “maybe but maybe I deserved it.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi protests and that oh so familiar protective tone in her voice carves itself into every crevice of Paige’s heart, “no one deserves to be put on the spot like that. She was being unethical trying to dig into your personal life like that.”

“This is nice,” Paige says softly, unable to help herself. 

“What is?” 

“Seeing you get all defensive over me. It's nice to see you still care. I didn’t know if you still did.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looks at Paige, “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.”

There’s years worth of unsaid words lingering in the silence between them as they breach some unspoken rule they’d both inadvertently agreed to. And they both know that they shouldn’t be saying things like this to each other, that they’re teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss that has nothing but destruction at the bottom. But Azzi’s words feel like sunshine, like heat waves across her skin and Paige is so tired of feeling cold. 

Before either of them can say another word, Stephie comes back into the room, crawling into Azzi’s lap.

“I’m back,” she beams, completely unaware of the way the two adults are scrambling to act normal around her. 

“Here baby,” Azzi hands the phone to Stephie, “take Miss Buecks to your room. Mama’s gonna go change and then she’ll come read to you okay?”

“‘Kay Mama,” Stephie complies, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s cheek before running towards her room. For a second Paige’s screen is blurred in motion until Stephie fixes her again and Paige catches a glimpse of Stephie’s room, specifically the walls that are painted the perfect shade of Valkyrie purple. 

“I love your walls Stephie,” she compliments.

“They’re pu-ple,” Stephie exclaims, “that’s my favorite color.”

“First the ice-cream, now the color, you’re stealing all of my favorites kid,” Paige teases but she’s secretly pleased by this revelation. It’s dangerous how fast Stephie’s starting to whittle down Paige’s walls and build herself a permanent shelf in Paige’s cabinet of my people. 

“Can I tell you a secret Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, bringing her lips closer to the phone. 

Paige smiles, “of course you can.”

“I think Mama misses you too,” Stephie says softly and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat, “I heard her tell Nanna on the phone.”

“Can I tell you a secret Stephie?” Paige lowers her voice, leaning into her phone. 

“‘Course you can Miss Buecks.”

Paige swallows as the admission falls from her lips, “I really miss your Mama too.”

I miss her always and I think I’ll miss her forever. 

“What are you the two of you whispering about,” Azzi’s voice cuts in as she tucks herself next to Stephie, a children’s book in her hand. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says immediately, winking at Paige through the phone. 

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, ignoring her erratic heartbeat, “nothing Azzi.”

Azzi looks between the both of them, clearly aware she’s being left out of something, but doesn’t push further. Instead she flips open the book, pulls Stephie closer into her arms and starts reading. If anyone were to ask Paige later, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea about a single word in that damn book. Because as Azzi’s soothing voice begins to lull Stephie to sleep, and the younger girl, despite her yawns, holds the phone up so the blonde can be included in every second of it, Paige feels herself being pulled into a dream she has no right to dream. She dreams of being in Stephie’s purple bedroom. She dreams of her and Azzi lying against Stephie’s lilac bedspread, their hands entwined in the middle over Stephie’s little body. She dreams of a forever that she’d long forsaken.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Start Again (Honkai: Star Rail Short Fic)

Tingyun (Fugue) x Reader

It's 2am as of writing, I get up at 7 for work, but I refuse to sleep until this brainworm has left. Burn by FLOW and many Gundam Unicorn songs inspired this piece. Post edit note: IT'S 3:44 AM BUT THAT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT Content: Angst to Comfort(Considering the circumstances, anyway) Word Count: 1.6k Apologies if this is OOC, the brainrot was VICIOUS

Fugue's dreams have led her here again. Sitting at a familiar setting, with a familiar face by her side.

It takes her a moment or two to recall where exactly she is. The...Earl?

The exact name escapes her, but she knows the feelings it brings her. Comfort, yet sadness. She knows returning there on the Loufou will not be as it once was.

But the person next to her smiling? The one holding her hand, failing to contain a laughter that instantly makes her at ease? She could never forget your name.

And yet in this instance, your lips move, but no sound comes out. The only noise that she can hear is her own breathing, one that grows ragged with every second she looks at you.

Her hands squeeze yours back without her input, feeling her own lips move. But just like you, she says yet another line lost to time, and still your eyes glimmer with such excitement.

What promises had she made to you back then?

What promises will she not be able to keep?

Just as Fugue had gotten bearings of her surroundings, the dream seems to fragment yet again, as her vision fades into darkness.

...

Fugue's eyes rapidly blink, forcing her daze out and focusing back on the present. She can see the reflection of herself on the glass, half expecting to see her past appearance.

She was aboard the Astral Express, staring out into the stars again. Fugue continued only for a few seconds longer before realizing that she wasn't alone in the car, with the Trailblazer standing behind her.

(Fugue) "Oh, Benefactor! My apologies, I didn't know you were standing there."

Fugue smiled with a hand over her chest, though the pain from the memory had yet to fade. Something that was all too evident, apparently.

(Caelus) "Are you okay? You're crying."

Fugue's hand immediately reached for the corner of her eyes, finally feeling the trickle that was building up, and with a sigh she let her hand drop back down to her waist.

(Fugue) "...Would you mind indulging in a question of mine?"

The Trailblazer leaned against the glass next to her, crossing his arms as he gave a thoughtful nod.

(Caelus) "Ask away."

Fugue turned back around to face the stars, trying to compose herself and find the proper way to ask Caelus a nagging thought of hers. Before, she could have easily found away to articulate her thoughts, but alas that was yet another part of her taken.

Her eyes drifted along the rim of the windows, eventually staring out into space again.

(Fugue) "What would be the first thing you would say to someone who thought you were gone forever? Someone who loved you more than anything else?"

Fugue didn't hear a response from him, not for a little while. When it was clear that was her only question, Caelus eventually sighed and gave her an answer.

(Caelus) "I guess...Hey."

...Hey?

That was it?!

Fugue immediately turned her attention back to Caelus, who was now awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck at her sudden frown.

(Fugue) "That is wildly inappropriate! How can the first thing I say to them just be a simple greeting?!"

Caelus's lips curled into a smile, moments away from saying something either witty or irritating, only to stop at the last second as his expression became serious again.

(Caelus) "You remember (Y/N)?"

(Fugue) "...So you've met them too."

Caelus nodded, motioning towards the nearby couch for them to sit down. After they had gotten comfortable, he leaned forward with both his hands clasped together.

(Caelus) "Only a few times, when they were with...-"

Fugue suddenly felt it hard to breathe, imagining the pain you must have felt realizing the person you loved was actually a monster wearing their skin, thinking that you would never see them again.

Caelus's next response immediately snapped Fugue out of her reverie.

(Caelus) "-...They still love you, Fugue."

She said nothing, taking a moment for his words to settle in.

(Caelus) "If I saw someone again after a long time, anything they'd say would be of some comfort. At least, that's the way I see it."

Fugue looked again towards the stars, but this time her reflection in the glass seemed all the harder to ignore.

(Caelus) "That's why I think a greeting is a way to start again. The best way? Probably not but...It's better than nothing, or just leaving them alone."

Fugue's gaze eventually trailed down to her own hand, her tail slowly swishing to her side.

(Fugue) "...Even when the person they loved is no longer the same?"

Caelus leaned back into the seat, staring out into the stars with his friend.

(Caelus) "Even then."

...

You decided that it'd be a good time to take a small break, and relax on a nearby bench, hearing the distant hum of starskiffs from above.

This was a quieter part of the Loufou, though it could never become entirely silent. Regardless, it always helped calm you down, at least somewhat, when your mind began to race again.

Truth be told, you wish you could be busy to keep your mind off things. Even though almost an entire year had passed since the funeral, your mind still couldn't help but think about Tingyun.

Sighing, you began to move off the bench when a familiar voice called out to you.

(???) "H-Hello, (Y/N)..."

Your swore your heart stopped for a moment or two as your body quickly swiveled to the person you swore was-

(Y/N) "Tingyun...?"

The woman in front of you looked almost exactly like your now dead girlfriend. Though her hair was longer, the clothing darker-The details differed ever so slightly, but you were sure.

That's Tingyun in front of you right now.

You wanted to reach out and hug her, to start crying on the spot and begin shouting to the skies how much you missed her. And yet...

Her eyes. Her eyes that once held such warmth for you alone, no longer sparkled in that same way. As if...she were talking to a stranger.

What seemed like a small eternity had passed before she sighed, sitting at the bench beside you, though not quite close enough, leaving a noticeable space between you two.

(Y/N) "...Are you really?-"

(Fugue) "Yes and...No."

Calling herself 'Fugue', she began explaining what exactly had led to her return, and although she was the woman you loved, at the same time it wasn't.

Her memories were fragmented, and although the finer details were lost forever, certain people and things that held significance to her seemed to be the only things intact.

Meaning that you were one of the anchors allowing her to even survive.

(Fugue) "...And now, I have a second chance at life, perilous as it is still."

(Y/N) "...What exactly do you remember of me, if I can ask."

Fugue pursed her lower lip, brows furrowing as her expression alone told you how little actually came to mind. Every second that passed was like a dagger twisting further into your heart, only stopping momentarily when she collected her thoughts.

(Fugue) "Besides your name...your smile...How warm your hands are, and how nice they feel when I hold them..."

Fugue tried with all her might to recall that dream. Even though it was so damn vivid every night, why did she struggle to recall it the moment she needed it the most?

(Fugue) "I...I think we had tea in front of the...Earl...?-"

(Y/N) "The Sleepless Earl, hah..."

You closed your eyes as tears threatened to spill out. Hearing her speak again was agonizing, yet relieving all at the same time. It was her, yet not her...Despite that, you finally knew in some capacity, she was safe and breathing next to you again.

Though, you must have done a poor job of masking your emotions since you felt a familiar touch you've missed brush against your cheek, feeling a thumb wipe away a tear that fell out.

(Fugue) "I...I didn't mean to hurt you. I shouldn't have come to you. I'm so-"

(Y/N) "Don't!"

Your body moved faster than your mind, immediately grabbing her hand when it tried slipping away. Fugue was somewhat startled, yet she quickly relaxed, seemingly soothed by your touch as well.

(Y/N) "...Sorry."

Clasping her hand again, you struggled to let go before gently putting her hands on her lap and maintaining that respectful distance.

(Y/N) "Knowing that you're alive again is more than enough for me. E-Even if you are on a razor's edge right now."

Truthfully, you didn't know if that was actually any better. You weren't sure if your heart could handle seeing her die again, but the illogical part of your brain was just happy to see her, to hear her speak, to hear her call out your name-

(Fugue) "(Y/N)."

You turned back to Fugue, who now had tears prickling the corners of her eyes too, her hand sitting in the middle of the space between you two.

(Fugue) "Do you know what my name means?"

You nod. You weren't oblivious to the symbolism of her new name.

(Y/N) "A loss of self."

(Fugue) "...And someone who's starting again."

She shifts her hand, her palm now facing outward. Now, she's giving you the smile you adored for all these years, one that never failed to make your heart race and cheeks flush.

This time, her smile is making tears rush down your face freely.

(Fugue) "I think it will take some time, but...I'd like to start again with you. And...to fall in love with you once more."

The smile you give back seems to have the same effect, even if Fugue doesn't entirely know the reason why she feels connected to you.

Not that particular bit stopped you from wiping away her tears this time, and letting your foreheads rest against each other.

Starting again didn't sound too bad.

[gemini-atz]

San as your Boyfriend ❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ('Realistic Imagines' + Astrology Based)

Background/Disclaimer: !!This is all my own interpretation based on my personal astrology knowledge and research. I consider myself an amateur!!

Contains NSFW, minors please use caution I will put all the harder nsfw headcanons under a warning in the text if you're looking for more fluffy feelings in general and would like to avoid.

Genre /: Smut, Imagines

Rating: 18+

Warnings: very jealous San, mentions of biting, unprotected s3x, collaring

Read about other members (WIP)

CHOI SAN SUN Cancer MOON Gemini MERCURY Leo VENUS Leo MARS Scorpio

✩Gemini Notes✩San as a boyfriend is (how do I put this nicely)….a lot to handle! Maybe it's just my majority Gemini/Air chart talking but dating someone like San would probably be way too much for me. But if you're a water sign girly or love being obsessed over COME ON DOWN!!

**A reader let me know I had taken down San's Venus incorrectly, his Venus is in Leo! I reread all my notes/research and I do feel happy with most of my interpretation since I did lean heavily on his Sun/Moon/Mars overall. I'll be making minor edits in green bc there are a couuuple little things I would recontextualize;

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*

San as your boyfriend gives you a giddy feeling at least every other week like the one you got when you first started dating. Firstly, you probably have NEVER been pursued this hard by a man. San wears his heart on his sleeve and has a terrible poker face, and to be honest, he isn't really trying all that hard to hide his intentions. He really was shy on your first couple dates, after he awkwardly asked you out one day (and you're pretty sure you saw one of his friends in the distance barely hidden behind a tree, making cheerleading type gestures) his cheeks completely red, but eyes looking stoically to one side. He probably had no idea you'd been crushing on him for weeks, and needed plenty of convincing to go for it from his friends. Literally everyone in your office knew him as "the hot maintenance guy" who's ears got red whenever you said goodbye to him when he was passing the front desk. On your first two dinner dates after work, he was a complete gentleman, opening your car door and every door in your way for that matter. After a couple glasses of wine he was smiling his genuine sweet smile and that Leo Mercury came into full force, he was flirting with you in every sentence, making you feel like the most special person in the world. At the end of the night, nothing more than a kiss on the cheek.

By the third dinner date, you got impatient and leaned over to whisper something in his ear as you leave the restaurant that results in you being folded in half in the backseat of his car with his deep voice panting and moaning needily in your ear. From that point on, he feeds off any boldness you give him, the floodgates open and you feel like you're going to be eaten up by him. He has you calling into work just to spend more hours in bed together type honeymoon phase.

A Leo Venus and Scorpio Mars in tandem with his Cancer Sun make him deeply passionate and emotional and these placements often experience intense limerence and can end up accidentally love-bombing their target, and they can get a little crazy internally if they perceive rejection. He's just straight up jealous and moody and you'll need to be the type of girlfriend who doesn't always give in and give him what he wants. He needs a lot of attention and reassurance that he’s important to you, he adores you and wants to be adored back. He’s a guy that likes to look good and dresses nicely to go out with you, even if it’s a little coffee date. He is reassured and calmed by physical touch from you, and he probably wants to be the little spoon sometimes even though he’s shy asking about it at first. Genuinely one of the most caring people you've met and intensely loyal. When you facetime him after work he seems so happy to see you every time and you just can talk about nothing with him, even the most throwaway parts of your day he blinks and nods intently at. One of your favorite things about him is that you can still seem to fluster him by being the one to flirt boldly, complimenting his body after the gym would have him doing those shy little scoffs, trying to hide his pleased smile and all you can think is "The nerve of this man to act flustered after the things he did to me last night". Venus Leo’s areeee just a little bit vain, San knows he looks good but loves to hear it best from you. He likes to show you off, and he's always embarrassing you by wanting to take pictures of you if you're wearing a cute outfit. He'll get you to stand a few feet away and pose, while he says "My girlfriend is seriously too pretty." to anyone that passes by too close and watches the mini photoshoot.

These Leo Mercury men can LEAP to conclusions and in tandem with his other placements he can overthink your motives or actions to a detrimental degree, driving himself anxious. He needs to know what you're up to and will double and triple text if he doesn't hear back from you quickly enough. He’s literally the “you did that without me?” 🥺☹️ boyfriend about everyyyything.

If you comment while grocery shopping that another guy has a really cool tattoo, he might be uncommonly quiet for the rest of the day and then at bedtime turn to you with his face in the most over the top pout "Should I get a tattoo? It would look sexy right?” He might come off standoffish to your friends at first (mostly out of genuine shyness) and his severe looking expression could give them the wrong impression of him, meanwhile once you get back in the car he buries his face in his hands and just sighs dramatically "They hated me". It will take a few tries but soon your friends will love him, they will be completely won over by how well he takes care of you and how he looks at you while you’re talking.

When he’s kissing you, which is as much as he can possibly get away with, his hands are always up to no good. As a couple you're constantly late to dinners or events because the second you step out of the room all dressed up, he's walking toward you with that little shy smile before reaching you and kissing you, hugging you close and groaning "Babe…" in your ear (and yes, he's already hard). He's just obsessed with the faces that you make for him and only him and he loves having you all to himself.

His emotional side can come out at the drop of a hat, like when on your first anniversary you decided to buy him flowers since you'd heard most guys never get flowers from anyone in their life and the second you hand over the bouquet to him with a big smile he's reaching up to wipe his tears. He prefers to gift jewelry, especially necklaces so you can wear a physical reminder of his love everywhere you go. As a partner, he does need a lot of mental care and support from you. His moon can make him anxious at times, even though he can try to project a constructed image of complete fearlessness and dominance, with you, his love, he lets himself feel fear, self doubt and be soft and he trusts you to protect and soothe him.

NSFW Below

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San has a thing for ownership; I won't say a breeding kink but more of an ownership one. He doesn't like other men looking at you with what he feels are impure expressions (hypocrite!) and the times that he really needs to reassert himself are probably after a night out together dancing at a club. Of course your attention was fully on him (in fact you think YOU have better grounds to be jealous when he wears shirts that show off his chest like that) but seeing other guys expressions as they watched you press your body into him drove him crazy. He gets you home and in bed, gently kissing all over your face before he orders you to get on your hands and knees before fucking you relentlessly until your arms have given out and you're facedown in the pillow, blissed out from the force of how hard he thrusts into you, feeling his strong fingers sinking punishingly into your ass. It feels like he’s using you like a toy the way he’s manipulating your body and filling the room with lewd smacks. Eventually he releases you, planting both hands on either side of you and pressing his whole body down into yours, kissing his way up your back till reaching the base of your neck. “Do you like that? Mm?” His deep voice drives you crazy and all you can do is whimper a response while he plants more sloppy kisses in the base of your neck and biting down harshly into the joint of your neck and shoulder when he feels himself about to cum, groaning loudly at the precious little sounds you let out for him as he empties inside you. He only wants to mark you all over and fill you again and again to show you who you belong to, and how good he takes care of you. He'll definitely eventually gift you a collar, the everyday wear chain type that looks like a necklace, but with a small silver lock on the front that only he has the key to.

As your relationship progresses and matures, you'll learn the right buttons to push with him out in public to have him leaning over to grip your inner thigh roughly, smiling outwardly as he leans in to whisper "just wait till I get you home".

He’s a lingerie and matching set appreciator, like the fact that you would doll yourself up and put on something uncomfortable but really sexy just for him genuinely makes him feel so soft for you…and then really really hard for you. He's really into stimulating and sucking on your breasts and nipples, and the lingerie just makes them look so amazing for him. He'd be so gentle with you while you're wearing it because he doesn't want to mess any of the delicate garments up. He just sits you down in front of the mirror with your back leaning against his chest and taking his time to touch every part of you, kissing your neck and intently watching your expression in the mirror until you're so sensitive you feel like you might cum just from him pinching your nipples through the lace. Only then does he slide his hand down to finally give some attention to your swollen clit.

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Ty @cursedeastern for requesting San

(Also very new to tagging so if you do request something and prefer I not put your user in the text post or have another way to notify just lmk ♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡ )

I'm still working on Seonghwa's because his chart is just so interesting lol I keep going off on a tangent like I'm doing an actual reading and forget to write in the romantic bits. But I'm hoping to post by this weekend.

I already had San fully formed in my mind due to my many run in's with Scorpio and Cancer men ( ╥ω╥ ) Y'all can KEEP EM' but also due to seeing his general behavior in videos...he really embodies the Cancer man to me

[grieferkisser]

╰ㅤ₊ㅤ๋࣭ㅤreader x gr13f3r　 confession　 ᠀

ꔛ word count: 753⠀╱⠀established friendship + crush 。

(¬_¬")⠀⠀⠀note ⠀╱⠀my ass cannot write smth more than 780 words long erm...yeah....more griefer i love him sm sm sigh i want to smooch him till he can't say anything comprehensible,,also yeah i see he doing this sht like yeah idk,,edit uh,changed 1 thing cause i just wrote the same thing again lol

Griefer was the epitome of immaturity and insensitivity, a walking disaster who thrived on chaos and violence. He relished in commanding others with brute force, going as far as having his father forcibly extract the Venomshank for him.

Now, here he was, standing by the very river where you two had first met as toddlers, struggling to get out the cheesiest words he could muster. It was surreal—how could something so simple be so difficult? He had even watched movies to prepare for this moment, which he would never admit to anyone—except maybe his gorilla pet, the only one privy to the embarrassing secret that he had a massive crush on you. But now, Griefer was a complete mess, unable to string a coherent sentence together without stuttering like a fool. He, of all people, blushing like some schoolgirl confessing to her first crush—it was mortifying!

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Griefer finally blurted out, “L00K, PUNK—I, UH—I L1K3 Y0U A L0T… 3RM… CAN W3 G0 0UT S0M3T1M3? W3 C0ULD G0 T0 TH3 ARCAD3 1F Y0U WANT—N0T THAT 1 CAR3 0R ANYTH1NG… UH, 3RM, CAN W3 HANG 0UT—L1K3 A DAT3? N0, N0T A DAT3! JU5T A HANG 0UT! Y3AH, THAT!”

The words came out in a jumbled rush, faster than he intended, leaving Griefer standing there, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest,what was he even thinking? Calling you to come to that place? Too cheesy! Stuttering in front of you? Pathetic! And just brushing off his attempt in asking you out? God- Embarrassing! He waited, every nerve in his body tense as he anticipated your response, but when nothing came, he panicked even more, brushing it off with forced bravado.

“WA1T, F0RG3T THAT—1T W4S N0TH1NG—HA! J-JU5T A J0K3, ALR1GHT PUNK? JU5T A J0K3.”

Awkward silence hung in the air as Griefer mentally berated himself for how disastrously wrong everything had gone. What had he been thinking, bringing you here of all places? The whole scenario was too cheesy, and his stuttering made him feel like an absolute idiot—God, could this get any more humiliating?

For a moment, he stared at the ground, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. The smile on your face only made him feel worse, as if you were mocking him silently. His palms grew sweaty—though he convinced himself it was just the heat of the jungle—and he took another deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak again.

“L00K, PUNK, 1—”

But before he could finish, you gently placed a hand on his cheek, and he froze, blushing furiously. What were you doing? He stared at you in bewilderment, his heart skipping a beat as he took in how stunning you looked up close. No, he couldn’t think like that—he was already embarrassed enough.

“PUNK, WHAT AR3 Y—”

His words were cut off as your lips suddenly met his, and Griefer’s brain short-circuited. Panic surged through him, and if he could blush any deeper, he would’ve turned into a human tomato. What was he supposed to do? He’d never kissed anyone before—not properly, anyway. The closest he’d come was a peck on the cheek from a girl back in high school, which didn’t count for much. But now, here you were, the person he actually liked,the person he actually thought of without any violent thoughts before going to sleep,kissing him, and all he could think was how utterly unprepared he was.

Slowly, as if moving through a dream, Griefer raised a hand to your hair, his fingers awkwardly threading through it before trailing down to your cheek. Okay, maybe he was getting the hang of this. His other hand found its way to your hip, pulling you closer, and he tried—really tried—not to mess this up. Which,spoiler!, of course, he did.

After what felt like an eternity—an agonizing, yet heavenly eternity—you both pulled apart. Griefer stared at you, his mind reeling. That… was actually a good kiss, especially for his first time. But then reality set in, and the nerves came rushing back. He had just kissed you—no, YOU had kissed HIM! He always thought he’d be the one to make the first move, and now he felt even more stupid. Who could blame him, though? He was just a hopeless guy in love.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, he looked at you, his hands still slightly shaky, and with all the courage he could muster, he blurted out one last request:

“C-CAN W3 K1SS AGA1N?”

[sailornymph]

Could you do more Madara as big brother stuff! Like a part 2 of how he’d (or even the other Uchiha) would react if reader doesn’t want to marry who the clan chose for them (like arranged marriage) thanks!!

rumor has it; uchiha men

synopsis — when their sister is being forced into an arranged marriage

content warning — arranged marriage, platonic yandere behavior

a/n — more requests are on the way throughout the week as i continue editing and writing. thank you for those who have been patient. i work at a hospital and am a nursing student, so i do not have too much time to just sit all day answering requests immediately. also, if the person who asked about the suguru sees this, please elaborate more because i have been confused.

♡ madara uchiha

— he feels 50/50 about the situation and it all boils down to one thing: strength

— wether the chosen suitor agrees to it or not, madara will put him through a series of situations, trials if you will, to see if they are worthy of your hand

— if they fail, then he will reject the proposal in disgust, while if he passes then he will approve

— however, if you are very adamant of not marrying the suitor, despite how he seems, he will agree with your wishes

— while he cares about the order within his clan, his immediate family will always come first to him

“lord madara”

“what is it?” madara groaned, he had been trying to finish up with the scrolls, but it seemed like someone wanted his attention every few minutes.

“it is your sister, my lord,” the shinobi said awkwardly.

“let her in,” he said immediately, his eyes softening as you entered, your face puffy from crying.

“you approved the marriage”

“hizako has proven himself worthy-

“what about what i want?” you cried.

“what do you want?”

“to keep getting stronger with you and zuna,” you sniffled.

“y/n, you need security, someone i know can protect you”

“i already know two men who can do that,” you said, making his eyes widened.

“who-

“my older brothers,” you said, wiping your eyes, while he smiled.

“i’ll postpone it for six months and if you’re still uninterested, then i will call it off”

“you’re the best”

“i know”

♡ itachi uchiha

— no matter if he chooses to make you stay with sasuke or brings you along with him if you don’t want to marry the person, he’s not allowing it

— if you went with him, things will play out differently. the akatsuki is not meant for someone like you and he doesn’t want you to focus on getting stronger like sasuke. instead, he brings you to a village close to where he is staying, visiting on occasion

— as you get older and locals realize you are one of the last uchiha people left, everyone is offering up their children for marriage with you. while you initially decline, you notice a bit of passive aggressiveness on their end and all it takes is whining to itachi, during his next visit and you’ll wake to him carrying you to your new home after he tortured those from the village you once lived in

— if you stay with sasuke, he expects sasuke to watch over you, and he does for the most part, until he decides to leave you too. with no one there, many older people begin to discuss an arranged marriage for you. not only would it dilute the uchiha blood, but potentially spread the sharingan to many

— itachi watches from the shadows as you cry about the unfairness of it all and how you missed your brothers. suddenly the s-rank criminal shows up in konoha paying his sister and these elders a visit

“are you sure you’re okay, y/n?” hinata asked, watching your saddened state. you sat in front of your bowl of ramen and you hadn’t touched it yet.

“are they still looking?” you said, as hinata turned towards the elders who were scowling at you.

“yes”

“i’m leaving,” you sat your money on the counter, turning to leave, when there was a gust of wind.

“s-sasuke’s brother,” hinata gasped, watching as you stood frozen.

you didn’t want to turn around, you couldn’t. itachi was your everything, the best big brother anyone could ask for. you slept peacefully throughout that night, only to find sasuke a crying mess, and that your sleep had been induced. you didn’t want to accept the fact that itachi would do what he had done, but there was no denying it. yet after all these years, he stood here, behind you, his arm loosely around you. loose, yet you could feel the protectiveness within it.

“brother?” you felt the tears running down your face, as kakashi sensei appeared.

“turn and face me,” he said, his voice still as mellow as ever. gulping you turned, and your hand went to your mouth to hold back your cries.

“you will not marry anyone you don’t want to be with, i’ll make sure of it,” he told you, reaching to wipe your eyes.

“itachi, get away from her,” kakashi said

“sasuke has failed you, but i will always make sure that won’t happen again,” he told you, his dark eyes peering into your own.

“big brother, why did you do it? i know you, there was a reason-

“i am only here about you”

“then let me come with you”

“and make you a criminal? you can’t even beat sasuke and he’s still weak. you’re better off here, my cute baby sister,” he told you, patting your head, before walking away.

“take care of yourself, my y/n,” he continued to himself.

looking towards the crowd of elders, they gasped at his sharingan. he didn’t have to say anything to them, a simple gaze was enough to make them understand what he was saying. they were going to leave you alone, or he’d simply make them.

♡ indra ōtsutsuki

— indra, much like madara is 50/50, before different reasons. it more so has to do with if you’re closer with him or asura

— if you’re closer with asura, he doesn’t care too much, when he gets the news. not saying that he doesn’t care at all, because he’ll probably talk asura or a few of his friends into “checking” to see if this person is even strong enough to protect his sister

— if the person or the clan prove to be worthy, he kind of backs off about the matter, but he will still watch from afar as everything falls into place

— if you’re close with him, especially after asura was chosen, i feel that he will be borderline yandere. you’re his baby sister. also! you’re the only person that feels like he is doing perfectly fine, that he deserved what was given to asura. he wouldn’t give you away so easily, especially when you didn’t want to marry this person anyway

— he’ll intimidate the hell out of them, he might even fight them. he doesn’t care if they are forced into the arranged marriage too, he wants them to back out because they are not worthy to even be in your presence

“y/n is one of the best fighters in the clan, she was trained by my eldest, indra,” hagoromo said, as the parents of your potential suitor sat in front of you.

“hold your head up dear, i’d love to see your beautiful eyes”

“she inherited them from my mother,” hagoromo said.

“absolutely wonderful, what do you think of her son-

before the young man could speak, the door slid open roughly. indra glared at the family as he slowly sauntered to the group, before sitting next to you.

“indra-

“what?” indra turned to his father, his sharingan activated.

“this meeting is only about y/n-

“she's lived with me for the last year, i should know be here with her,” indra scoffed. your rigid form relaxed as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“tell her son,” the boy’s father continued.

“you’re very beautiful,” the boy blurted, his face burning with embarrassment.

“she is, the two of you would make very lovely heirs with your-

“byakugan,” you answered. squeezing indra’s hand, all he could think of his the previous night. he attempted to surprise you with a sweet treat, but accidentally interrupted you crying your eyes out. father was trying to set up an arranged marriage and he was trying to keep it a secret because he knew indra would he angry about it.

“yes, the byakugan, those eyes could be passed on for generations,” his mother smiled.

“do you think i’m letting my sister marry your pathetic son,” indra suddenly spoke up.

“indra, stop this-

“how about you beat me in a match, if i lose we’ll see about it, but if i win, find someone else,” indra said stoically, as he stared unblinking at the parents, before facing the boy.

“this really isn’t necessary-

“oh but it is, you see my sister is very precious to me, so much that i cannot allow my father to marry her off to a shrimp like your son, who can’t even stand up against me. so your arrangement is officially rejected,” indra said, taking your hand, and walking away with you.

hagoromo was too busy trying to calm them down to stop the two of you, letting you leave the main house. once outside, you hugged indra tightly, thanking him for stepping in.

“don’t thank me, it’s my duty as your brother. if it were up to me you would never get married, but i know the day will come. when that day does come, i’ll make sure it’s someone you want to be with,” he patted your head, before the two of you began to walk away.

♡ obito uchiha

— he wants his only sibling to live a life separate from the path he’s on. he occasionally visits, but tries to not show up too much to interrupt the peaceful little life you have for yourself

— however, when he shows up, he can see from a distance, the unfamiliar clan members leaving your home, he can see how puffy your face looked. you had clearly been crying

— he waits a few minutes before knocking, acting as if he just showed up, before pointing out that you look as if you had been crying. he couldn’t hide too well how much it hurt him, when you lied about the reason, blaming the weather

— once he leaves, he begins investigating when he finds out about the clan. they’d noticed you and decided that you would be perfect for the heir of the main family. with no family around they began to push until you would finally give in. from your tears he knew this wasn’t something you wanted. but you didn’t have to worry because your big brother would take care of everything

— after the terrible “freak accident” leading to the death of the main family, the clan calls off any further arrangements. you are left alone to continue living your happy little life, and while you are suspicious of obito, he would never admit to what he did

opening the door as obito approached, your eyes softened at his distant expression. he seemed to be in his head. walking to him you wrapped your arms around him, sighing as he followed, embracing you.

“thank you, big brother”

“what are you thanking me for,” he glanced at you.

“the clan, was it not you?”

“i don't know what we're talking about, but i love you too,” he said, as he began to walk past you into your home.

“also…y/n”

“yes?”

“you know if you need me i’ll always come to you, right?” he asked.

“yes, of course”

“then write me back more, i never hear from you kid,” he said, getting comfortable.

♡ sasuke uchiha

— he doesn’t pay the clan members any mind, initially. every time they showed up at your shared apartment, he slammed the door in their face. when they stared at the two of you, he didn’t care

— it wasn’t until he was walking to pick you up from school, that he noticed the elders speaking to you, as you held your head down. approaching them, he demands to know what’s going on, leading to them telling him plainly about the arranged marriage

— when they leave, he expresses his anger at you and the situation. it was supposed to be the two of you against the world, but here you were agreeing to marriages with people you didn’t even know

— he gives you the silent treatment for days until an argument happens. he was progressing in strength while you would not pursue the life of a shinobi, with him away all the time on missions it became easy for the clan to become pushy about the marriage, and so you were giving in with no other solutions

— storming away, he goes and picks a fight with the potential suitor, dragging him back to the apartment and forcing him to call off the arrangement. it gets him into a lot of trouble that kakashi struggles to get him out of, but it is worth it because the two of you end up making up

“excuse you, geez,” you whined, as he bumped your shoulder.

“i pay the bills around here, if you have a problem with where i walk, move in with your future husband”

“seriously”

“tell me again, why you agreed to this? what would are parents think? you just go and marry a stranger. what about school? what about us, itachi left us, it’s just you and me-

“stop saying that when it isn’t true, you asshole,” you screamed, making him stop, you had never spoken to him that way before.

“you are not alone, no matter how much you think you are. you have naruto, kakashi, and sakura. everyone either wants to be your friend or be with you. you’re one of the strongest in your class. and where does that leave me? the youngest sibling who ended up not being a shinobi. no special abilities, a nobody compared to you. if these people think i am worthy to be with their son, i’ll do it, even if i don’t want this for myself-

“why would you think i would accept this-

“does it matter, you’re always away anyway, all you want is to kill itachi and power, so don’t act like you care,” you scoffed, wiping your tears.

“i don’t care, are you serious?” he raised his voice suddenly, making you jump.

turning away he stormed out of the apartment into the rain. hearing the distant thunder you became worried. for nearly twenty minutes, you anxiously sat, until the door began to open. standing up, your heart dropped, as sasuke dragged the beaten-up guy into the room, by his shirt.

“tell her”

“t-the arrangement is off”

“your clan will leave her alone”

“yes, they will,” he nodded, flinching.

“apologize for harassing her”

“i’m sorry, miss, forgive me,” he cried.

“now get out,” sasuke shoved him towards the door, watching as the tears fell from your eyes. slow approaching, he forced you into a hug.

“don’t ever think that you are alone. that’s my job. even if i am miles away, I won’t allow you to go through something like marrying someone out of convenience. you are an uchiha and my baby sister, it’s not happening, as long as i’m here,” he glared at you, but his eyes softened as you went to hug them, thanking him.

“sasuke?”

“hm?”

“since we’ve made up, could you cook tomorrow, i’m tired of ramen”

“fine”

[sansaorgana]

Ok but Buck getting jealous or riled up from a British Air Force trying to get at his gal 👀

EDIT: I've just realized I totally misread this and didn't notice it's about BRITISH Air Force sdfghjkl; I hope you forgive me 🤣 I'm an idiot, I swear to God. feel free to send it again so I'll write another one!!!

hi, babe 🧸 thank you for your request 💗 Buck and reader are in America while this short fic takes place. let's say he got a few weeks off to spend at home 🏡

i currently have 2 more requests in my inbox but i was busy watching the bear today and now i have a slight migraine so i'll deal with them tomorrow, sorry xx

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"What are you thinking of, doll?" his deep voice made you look up and blink a few times like you couldn't believe that he was there; back in your arms, so close and so warm. You were slow dancing together with Buck for the past half an hour but you couldn't focus on the moment even though you knew you should. He wasn't back for good. Not yet.

"You've only a few missions left," you bit on your lower lip and he chuckled before leaning in to look deep into your eyes.

"Aw, don't think 'bout it, babe. I left it behind for a few weeks, yes?" he pecked your lips and you tried to smile. "Come on, why the long face?"

"I'm sorry," you sniffled back the tears forming in the corners of your eyes and shook your head.

"Makes me think you're not happy to see me back in town," he teased and spun you around gently before pressing you close to him again. "What? Won't be able to see a loverboy for a while?"

"Don't be stupid, Buck. There ain't no loverboy but you," you chuckled finally and pushed him softly.

"There better not be 'cause I'd have to fix his face right."

"Sure thing, big man," you gave him a wide smile and cupped his face to caress his cheeks. You loved seeing your hands on him. You especially loved seeing your engagment ring on your finger. "You look so handsome in that suit, Cleven."

"That's Major Cleven for you, big mouth," he winked at you and you pulled a face to make him laugh.

"Fetch me something to drink, will you, Major Cleven?" you leaned in to kiss his cheek and asked. "All that dancing made me thirsty."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and walked you back to the table that had been occupied by you two before. He grabbed his cap to put it back on his head and approached the bar.

In the meantime, you opened your purse and tried to find a compact mirror with the powder to fix your shining nose and forehead. You didn't notice that some man stood above you. When you were done with your looks, you closed the mirror with a loud pop sound and you almost jumped in your seat at the sound of a tall dark-haired guy that kept staring at you.

"Excuse me?" you asked and looked him up and down. He was wearing a suit like your Buck but he was no Major.

"Um, I'm sorry, I've just noticed a beautiful girl sitting here all by herself and… I thought that, well, uh, I'mma fix that, perhaps…?" he took his cap off and squeezed it nervously with one of his hands as his other one went behind his head to scratch it awkwardly.

"And you are…?" you tried not to laugh at him. He was kind of adorable in that.

"Um… Sergeant… Sergeant Tommy Smith, miss," he introduced himself.

"Sergeant?" you raised an eyebrow. "Have you been to Europe already?"

"No, miss, no, I… I am going soon… It's my last few weeks before I go," he explained and you could see sweat forming upon his forehead. "Can I… Can I perhaps sit down?" he proposed, probably not realizing how bold it was. But he looked like he was about to faint any given moment.

"Sure thing, honey," you moved a little to give him a spot next to you but you tried to find Buck amongst the crowd. You couldn't see him, though, which was no surprise because the place was full of people – airmen, soldiers and their sweethearts... or girls hoping to become sweethearts soon.

"You're so… So kind, miss," Tommy nodded his head at you as he sat next to you. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Who said I was alone?" you smiled at him and he blushed. "Oh, don't worry, he's not the beating up kind, my man."

Tommy seemed to sigh with relief but then his eyes widened at the sight of someone standing behind you.

"Is… Is that him?"

"Oh, honey, he's not scary at all, my man, he's…" you started with a chuckle but then you turned around and you saw the man that Tommy had been referring to.

It wasn't Buck. He was huge, enormous even. You've never seen an uniform so tight on the muscles like that. And he was tall as well. Wearing sunglasses inside at night type of guy. He was handsome, oh yes, he was. But he had this aura around him as if he had thought that the whole wolrd revolved around him. He was also an airman and he was chewing gum arrogantly.

"Is that kid bothering you, love?" he asked.

"Um… No," you shook your head and tried to find Buck desperately with your eyes but there was still no sight of him. "Not at all," you added.

"I'll g-go now…" Tommy stood up to leave quietly.

"No, don't leave me…" you tried to plead in a whisper but he put his cap back on and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

So, now you were left with the big guy.

"Finally. These new ones are like pests," he sighed and sat next to you without asking for permission.

"Excuse me…?" you squealed but he only laughed and took his sunglasses off to take a better look at you.

"Why so scared, gorgeous?" he grinned showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

"Care to at least give me your name?" you asked, trying to move as far away as possible while staying discreet.

"Let's say you're about to find out later that night when you're gonna scream it, sugar," he winked at you and you almost gagged.

"Oh, I do believe I already have a name to scream," you stated, deciding that perhaps being as vulgar as him would make him finally get the message. But that was not the case.

"That guy's?" he laughed. "That kid's?"

"No," you shook your head and looked around but Buck wasn't coming.

"Something tells me you're bluffing me, little one," he leaned in and you took a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself down.

"Why would I?" you raised your hand to show him your ring. He hummed and whistled at it.

"Nice piece, baby. But it can mean anything," he insisted. "I think you're just playing hard to get, am I right, sweetheart?"

"Please, I am not interested," you shook your head as he was trying to put his arm around you.

"Why not? You seemed to be interested in the other guy and he was a fucking nobody."

"He was kind… And he wasn't pushy," you tried to get away as he was moving closer and closer.

"What's your name, by the way, sugar?" the man asked.

"Her name is Mrs. Gale Cleven," Buck's familiar, deep and warm voice made you look up as you smiled through the tears of humiliation.

He was standing above you with a drink in his hand and he looked oh-so-pissed like you've never seen him before.

"Shit, man, you mean she's married to that Major Cleven?" the big man let go of you and stood up immediately, grabbing his sunglasses from the table. "Thanks for the heads up, dude. And you are…?"

"Major Gale Cleven, dude," Buck answered angrily and you watched how the creep's smile dropped instantly.

"Oh, there's… There's been some misunderstanding, Major, I… There was a young Sergeant bothering your wife and I…" he started to stutter.

Buck looked at you now and you knew that he wasn't angry at you but his intense bright eyes still caused a chill go down your spine.

"Is that true?" he asked.

"There was a young Sergeant talking to me, I invited him to sit with me. He was friendly," you nodded. "I did not require saving as far as I am concerned… You, on the other hand," you looked at the scared big guy, "you were far from polite and you didn't treat me like a lady at all."

Buck put the glass down loudly in front of you and stared at the guy with contempt as the muscles of his jaw twitched.

"Let's take it outside," he proposed as your eyes widened. Buck was never the type to start a bar fight or anything of that sort. And as much as you believed in your brave Major, you didn't want him to fight that huge man.

"Buck, honey," you stood up to put a hand on his chest, "let him go, he's just drunk. He's not worth getting in trouble."

"I'm sorry Major, I didn't mean to be rude to your wife, sir," the man saluted.

"You only apologize because you know she's my wife. Otherwise you'd keep bothering her," Buck squinted his eyes.

"No, sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant, now get the fuck out of here."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the man saluted for the last time before walking away as fast as possible.

"Buck!" you pushed him gently as your jaw dropped. "Where did you learn such language?"

He didn't answer, however. He sat down, took his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. You could see his hands shaking from restraining himself. You decided to give him a moment so you just sat down as well and sipped on your drink.

"Thanks for the coke, baby," you whispered eventually.

"You're welcome. The queue was long, sorry 'bout that."

"Oh, no need to be sorry," you caressed his tense arm. "Buck, you're okay?"

"Yeah, um, no," he looked up to meet your gaze and you furrowed your brow. He took your left hand and caressed your knuckles. "We should get married for real."

"I know, baby," you smiled widely, "when you come back to me for good, yes?"

"No, now," he insited all of sudden in a serious tone. "What if I don't come back for good?"

"Oh, don't say that! You've only a few missions left and… And this is supposed to ensure that you come back! God won't let you die when he knows you've a marriage to look forward to!"

"I want you to be safe if I don't come back," he didn't listen to you. "You'll have more privileges as a widow."

"Why are you bringing this up?!" you could feel tears forming in your eyes. "You were the one to tell me to stop thinking about it."

"But that jerk made me realize a thing or two, alright? Shh… Shh…" he cupped your face and kissed you. "Don't you want to be Mrs. Gale Cleven for real, sweetheart?"

"I… I do," you chuckled and nodded.

"God," he sighed and pecked your lips one more time, "thinking of you wearing my surname makes me dizzy more than any turbulence I've ever had to deal with."

"Just you wait and see, Major," you laughed through the tears, "being married to me will be the worst turbulence you'll ever experience."

"I hope that's a promise, doll."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[simp-ly-writes]

Crush

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Pairing: Spencer Agnew x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You try and hide your crush on your co-worker.

─ · · TAGS: mutual pining, gender-neutral pronouns, fluff, hurt/comfort, meet-cute, cheesiness, confessions.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,765

─ · · A/N: I told myself I would never write about IRL people nor ever post this or even go back to my smosh phase but somethings in the water today I guess!

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↳ You had originally worked for Good Mythical Morning as one of the leads of the marketing team before you switched over to Smosh as they re-bought the company. You would miss your team, your friends for the past several years dearly. But you were invested in the new challenge of getting these channels back to their glory days with new content and ideas to work on.

↳ You kept to yourself as best as you could as your new co-workers came up to you and introduced themselves by your desk side. Spencer was not the first to come up and say hi to you, in actuality- it was you who rather abruptly walked into him at the end of your first week. The distinct smell Mountain Dew Kickstarter spreader across every fiber, drenching your shirt as it spilled equally over his hoodie.

You remember placing your hands to your mouth in horror, a string of apologies set upon heated cheeks before rushing in to the nearby staff room and back out with a wad of paper towels as you started to dab at his chest before throwing them in his face once remember you did not know your co-workers good enough yet.

Spencer laughed, taking none of it to heart as he dried himself off as best as he could while not making any eye-contact towards you. You apologized once more, extending your hand awkwardly to greet your new acquaintance.

"name," you stated softly in seeing the growing number of people exit the room that he just exited from, it appears the filming just finished for lunch.

"Spencer," he shook you hand, offering a polite smile before looking down the hall. Various cast members you remember meeting slapped him on the shoulder and gave you a wave before continuing down the hall.

"You're not going to report this to HR for anything, right?" you asked, half-joking half not as you looked down to see that your undershirt was indeed visible.

His laugh caught your own as you it died down to chuckles before you rushed towards your car for spare clothes.

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↳ In the next coming weeks, you found your footing once more. Standing behind camera as you recorded little teaser snippets. Quickly edited some pictures for the instagram team and sent off your reports all on your tablet.

↳ You enjoyed sitting towards the back, far away from any possible cameras in a dark corner with your water bottle by your feet. Texting the members of your small team through the group chat as you became lost in your own little bubble before the lights were coming back on.

↳ Looking at the time on your device, you quickly stood up and rushed out the room ahead of everyone else. Your social battery was already low from the mornings meetings and made your way back to your desk

↳ A sudden clearing of someones throat had you jumping out of your chair as Spencer stood at your side water bottle in hand. "You forgot this at set earlier." And placed it on your desk.

"Thank you, Spencer," you said with a smile, doing your best to ignore the way your palms were beginning to sweat and praying that you could go back to your hermit corner.

He offered you a smile in return before exiting the space and back towards his own desk as you slumped in relief. "Tough day?" Courtney asked in a light tone before forcing you towards the lunch table.

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↳ You were growing closer to everyone, making friends with people from other departments and still keeping up with your old co-workers on the weekends. Yet you were still to embarrassed from your first few interactions with Spencer to move your relationship from sharing files or the dreaded small talk.

↳ The audience seemed to be growing to you as well. Somehow your little murmurs to yourself had gotten picked up on the microphone and used in the final edit. When watching with Courtney the most recent episode of TNTL, you were surprised to find that it was you who made Olivia laugh that hard. You were really rooting yourself to this company.

↳ A few cast members and producers had tried to get you to move closer to the cameras for more of your comments or even get you on set as you shook your head violently and turned down every offer- still preferring to stay in the shadows.

↳ Yet even when doing your best to hide away, Spencer would sneak his way over with a snack or offer to review what clips you decided on for the reel later that day. You felt childish in many ways on how afraid you were to speak with him, using short sentences or nods of your head but he never took them as rude and was in a way, way too understanding that lead you to feel how you do currently.

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↳ You hated everything to do with Spencer. You hated how much he would always check in on everyone and somehow find all your little hiding spots in the office and on set. Hated the way his smile and laugh would make your heart race. Hated the videos he would attach to his emails that he thought you would like, and you did.

↳ You despised how he wouldn't force you to talk, yet he would just sit there with you at lunch or offer to walk you to your car after work. Your heat couldn't say no nor did your co-workers allow you to as Courtney was practically shoving you both out the door without another word.

↳ A few of them even asked if you did in fact have a crush on the Director and by the look on your face and the shake in your hands, they knew the answer all to well.

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↳ You stated to feel indebted for your shyness as you offered Spencer a fresh can of Mountain Dew during lunch or even provided morning pasteries for the both of you. The whole office took note of his smile that day while filming and how you both started to work at one another's desks.

↳ The more time you spent together, the more confident you grew and you thought to be getting over your crush now. You would have your chair closer to the front of the set, Spencer would often stand or sit beside you between breaks- resting his arm on the back of your chair as he would peer over to see whatever was on your tablet.

↳ Rumours spread, you could practically feel the eyes for sure on your back as you walked around the office together. HR had even sent you a few hinting emails that had you flashing back to your first week working at Smosh.

↳ Cameras were picking up on it too. The attention was growing all too much, your feels were growing all too much before you were taking a step back and allowing more opportunities for your team as you took a step back.

↳ Of course, Spencer took notice of this as well. Asking around, and even once during filming where you had gone only to find you put other people to film the clips and take the photos.

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↳ "Are you okay," Spencer asks, bursting into your new office space as you stood up straight from your desk, a smile a bit to wide as you stiffly welcomed him into the space.

↳ He rounded your desk, sitting upon it, concern written in his features with the slightest tilt to his head. You fumbled with your fingers, struggling to come up with words, "Im okay, just taking a break is all- working on other things."

"I'm just worried for you my friend, never mind work. Are YOU, doing okay?" Spencer pressed, knowing that the answer you gave wasn't entirely truthful.

↳ Friend. The word wounded you as you blinked away tears, suddenly feeling ridiculous. You were an adult and yet this stupid crush you had was coming in the way of everything you worked so hard towards.

"Yes. I am doing okay, thank you for checking up on me."

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↳ You hoped that the time apart would help you, only finding yourself hurting more. You fell right back into the schedule you and Spencer developed together and you hated to admit to yourself but you had never felt better.

↳ They were filming who meme'd it? And yours had yet to come up until now. It would be your first seconds fully on camera as everyone cheered you on before hand. The comments from earlier in the week were excited to finally see who you were, that night you had even found a compilation of every time Spencer mentioned you, to your suprise it was over 5 minutes long- or maybe you just watched it a few dozen times.

↳ Nonetheless, your meme was instantly guessed by the man. His eyes immediately found your own from behind the camera as you started to shrink away, slipping down the couch and onto the floor was a blush as he calmly wrote your name. Shayne seeing this laughed, it echoed the room as he and everyone else also knew the answer from your combined reaction.

↳ Everyone else in the office was loving it. You meme'd your first time meeting with poorly drawn MS-Paint visuals and a simple caption and as your name and picture flashed up on the screen. Cheers rung throughout the room as one of your team members gently rubbed your back in reassurance

↳ After gaining back your will to live, you were suprised to find a pair of arms bringing you into a hug. "I am so proud of you, first time on camera!" Spencer spoke into your hair, you could feel his smile as you stood there still in shock before retuning the action.

↳ Not knowing if it was the adrenaline still running after the showing, the physical comfort, or what you thought to be hearing his heart beating as fast as you own, you blurted out to the shock of many others still cleaning up after the shoot- "I like you a lot."

Spencer chuckled, bringing you back into a hug as you hide your face in his neck from the cheers, "I like you a lot too. But please now finish your turn on game pigeon 8-ball."

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