#no angst but lots of cuddles and emotions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 11 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

#sab [mlist]#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #jjk x you

13K notes · View notes

nanamis-angel · 5 months ago

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭 ♡︎

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ৹ you and megumi have been dating for nine months. you're happy. he's happy. you're perfect for each other. the only issue? he craves affection and he's not sure how to ask for it.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ৹ megumi x fem!reader, shy megumi, fluff, very very slight angst, cuddling, yuji and nobara mention (they share one braincell).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ৹ 1.4k

𝐚/𝐧 ৹ sorry I haven't written in a while, i'm currently on vacation and haven't been writing. this was in my drafts so I figured I'd post it. I'll be back soon with some more. I hope you enjoy! hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y

You and Megumi had been dating for quite a while now. Just two weeks ago, you had your nine-month anniversary together and you were the happiest you had ever been.

The relationship was very low-key. PDA was almost non-existent—the most he’d ever do in public was hold your hand and even then, he kept his hands to himself most days.

Affection was present in your relationship but you mostly had to ask for it. He’d give it to you without a second thought but he rarely initiated any form of affection besides a few hugs or kisses here and there.

To be honest—it bothered you at first as you believed it was something about you that made him not want to be affectionate but then you realized it was just hard for him to show physical affection because he never really knew how. He was an amazing boyfriend—he just had some struggles.

You were fine with this now and it didn’t bother you, knowing that he still loved you very much.

But what you didn’t know was how badly this affected Megumi. His fear of initiating physical affection was eating him alive from the inside out.

Megumi had a lot of emotions—believe it or not—but he didn’t know how to handle all of it so he just shoved it all down where nobody could find it. He never learned how to deal with any of it so it seemed like the only quick solution.

His mother passed away at a young age and affection or even emotion (besides anger, disappointment, or his father being unamused) was not common from his father and stepmother. Growing up he got the occasional pat on the head or a hug from Gojo and his older sister Tsumiki tried her best to show her love for him when she could—but that had ended all too soon.

He would never admit it but he absolutely craved affection—specifically from you. The poor boy was so touch-starved. His heart soared whenever you asked for a hug or to lay down together. And it tore away at his heart how badly he wanted to ask you for love but for some reason, he was scared to do so.

But one thing about Megumi was that he was persistent and he was going to get through this and overcome his anxiety one way or another. After all, you were already his girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Right now, you were on a walk with him, Nobara, and Yuji. Shoko had insisted on the four of you going out and getting some sun and none of you were about to argue with the intimidating school doctor so you all quickly got out there.

You walked alongside Megumi while Nobara and Yuji goofed off a couple of feet ahead of the two of you, not paying attention to either of you at all. Megumi quietly walked with a stoic expression, keeping his hands in his pockets. He had barely said anything but that’s because his mind was racing.

You didn’t mind it at all as long as you were with him. Megumi’s gaze kept flickering down to your hand, which was at your side as you walked. He wanted to just reach down and grab your hand tightly but something stopped him. Why? He had no idea.

You were his girlfriend, he had held your hand before and nothing happened. So why would it be any different now? Anxiety over simple things never made anyone think sensible thoughts. But it was enough to make him nervous to simply reach out and grab your hand.

And the worst part? You had no idea. You simply kept walking with a big smile on your face as the two of you walked together.

Before he could stop himself, he just took his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your hand rather abruptly, not saying a single thing as if trying to ignore what just happened.

You were a little stunned—just because it was so sudden. And he had just grabbed your hand rather than lacing his fingers together with yours or something like that so you looked at him with a little bit of confusion. “Megumi?” You asked.

Noticing your eyes on him, he just avoided eye contact, feeling his cheeks heat up for some reason. All he was doing was holding your hand! Well, more like gripping it at this point.

“You don’t have to grip my hand like that, I’m not going anywhere.” You chuckled, trying to make him loosen up a bit so you could intertwine your fingers with his. Really, you were just glad that he was holding your hand and had done it himself.

Megumi didn’t reply but his grip loosened up so you could intertwine your fingers with his, properly holding hands now. You gave his hand a little squeeze and a reassuring smile. To be honest, it was really cute to see him like this but you weren’t going to say anything about it and just decided to leave it as it was.

Holding hands—it was such a simple thing but Megumi’s heart felt like it was racing. He was proud of himself for initiating things but boy was his heart pounding.

But feeling his skin against yours was so nice; feeling the warmth of your hand against his, it was so comforting. Goodness, he loved you so much. He just didn’t know how to say it sometimes.

The two of you held hands until you got back to the school. Nobara and Yuji rushed inside, not wanting to be out in the heat anymore while you and Megumi took your time getting inside. Sometimes you believed Nobara and Yuji shared one brain cell between each other—and they probably did, to be honest.

Megumi’s hand fell from yours when you got inside, which was okay, you were going to sit down to cool off anyway.

You made your way inside and to one of the rooms, walking over to one of the couches. Thankfully you had nothing else going on for the rest of the day so you could just practically pass out on the couch for a little while.

Before you sat down, you looked at Megumi, who was just standing there looking at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” You asked, slightly confused. He had been acting odd all day and it confused you. What was going on?

Again, no reply. Instead, you felt his hands suddenly grab your waist and pull you close to him, his arms enveloping you in a big hug. You stood there stunned for a moment before wrapping your arms around him tightly. It was clear that he really needed this hug.

“Megumi—,” You spoke but he cut you off.

“Don’t say anything.” He said softly, “Just don’t say anything.” He breathed out, not wanting to be asked any questions right now. All he wanted to do was hold you.

With you still in his arms, he moved and sat down on the couch, putting you on his lap and burying his face into the crook of your neck. It was so comforting, so nice. He just wanted to stay like this forever, in the safety and comfort of your arms.

You were still stunned that he was doing this but you didn’t question a thing, continuing to keep your arms locked tightly around him. Eventually, your hand made its way up to his scalp, gently raking your nails through his hair. You could feel him practically melt into your touch and you let out a little chuckle.

“Cute,” You mumbled, your voice could barely be heard.

Megumi let out a little huff and just kept his arms around you, his cheeks warm from embarrassment.

You weren’t sure how long you two were like that and eventually, you had somehow shifted to where the both of you were laying down, still holding each other in your arms. Megumi had practically fallen asleep, comfortably cuddled up right in your arms.

And he would’ve fallen asleep—had Yuji not walked into the room and seen the two of you lying together on the couch. Poor, innocent Yuji who could physically never bring himself to be quiet. “Ooh, Fushiguro! Getting comfortable with [name] there huh?” He said lightheartedly, thinking nothing of it. He really was just teasing.

Within an instant, Megumi was sitting up with an unamused expression, reaching to grab the nearest thing he could, his face pink and flushed “Shut up!”

Yuji was out of that room within seconds, just barely dodging the magazine Megumi had thrown at him.

1K notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 1 year ago

Text

Reader that always cries/tries not to cry. As someone who has been yelled at for crying and who is extra sensitive, I live for the angst where the reader struggles to hold their emotions followed by all the fluff, comfort and reassurance.

"But-it feels like you don't care Bucky!"

"I told you I was busy y/n!" Bucky sighed out of frustration, running his fingers through his short locks, "You know how stressful this job is, it's not like I cancel our dates on purpose"

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of neglect as you stood in front of your boyfriend, fully dressed for your date only for him to text you that it would have to happen another night.

Again.

"I haven't seen you in weeks. You go for days without answering your phone. I only call you because I care about you, I love you" You could already feel the warning signs making their way throughout your body. Your throat felt tight making it difficult to swallow. Your eyes stung with fresh tears. Your nose felt warm, threatening to sniffle.

"Yeah I get that," He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "I just don't know if you understand how much I have to do in a day"

"I'm not stupid Bucky" Your voice started to crack, feeling worse for adding to his stress as your own emotions started to crumble. You wanted to hold it together, to have one conversation where you didn't break but-

"But you don't get it- c'mon y/n, don't cry" Bucky bit out, the words coming out harsher than he intended, not realizing how much it would upset you. You bit your lip harder to keep your chin from trembling, fat tears threatening to slip out the more you tried to blink them back. Your throat ached, constricting your neck more and more.

"I-I'm s-sorry" You choked out, hating yourself even more for getting emotional, the frustration evident in your voice. You harshly wiped your face between hiccups, letting out a frustrated groan. Bucky blinked, his previous annoyance replaced with regret seeing how upset you were with yourself.

"I-I don't mean t-to cry" You dug your nails into your palms to try and get yourself together, your body betraying you wish a fresh wave of tears only making you feel worse, "I don't want to!"

Your body trembled, your arms moving to hug yourself in an attempt to hide away, squeezing yourself together to gain some semblance of control. Bucky cursed internally, now pissed at himself for losing his patience when you were only upset for not being able to see him. You never asked for much; the only thing you wanted was to spend time with him and recently he hadn't been doing that either.

"Hey-no-baby shhh, c'mere" Bucky pulled you to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down to calm your labored breaths. "Its not you angel, its me. I'm the one whose sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to you or said that, I'm sorry sweet girl"

"I-c-cry for-for everything" Your voice cracked into a defeated sob, embarrassed over how easily you broke down to tears, a new wave streaming down your face, wetting the front of his Henley. Bucky picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to bed where he could place you in his lap, cradling you to his body. "I h-hate it"

"My sweet, sensitive baby" Bucky cooed as he continued to cuddle you, rocking you in his arms while you got your breathing under control. "I'm sorry babygirl"

"I just missed you" You sniffled, clutching onto his dogtags while he kissed your temple repeatedly, stroking your hair.

"You have every right to be upset. I should be lucky my girl loves me so much, you don't even ask for a lot. I'm sorry I've been neglecting and cancelling on you so much, m'gonna take some time off so I can love on you properly"

You smiled into his chest, your body finally starting to relax, following the rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm sorry I cry so much- Bucky tipped your face up, pressing his lips against yours to stop your rambling.

"No, you cry as much as you want with me, I love that about you, okay?" He looked at your sincerely, meaning every word.

"But-

"You cry because you care. I love that you care so much. I love that cute little animal videos make you emotional. I love how deeply you feel for others. Fuck, I love how much you love me. I'll never meet anyone else who loves and cares for others the way you do. Don't ever change baby, you cry all you want"

You let out a small sniffle at his words making him chuckle, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tear the slipped out.

"What if it annoys you" you pouted while Bucky playfully pondered your question, pecking your lips again.

"Hmm, then you send Steve to beat me up. I promise he'll run at the chance at any given moment. Call Sam in too and get comfy with those fuzzy peaches you love so much"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, doll" Bucky whispered, settling you under the covers with your head on his chest, planning to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed. "Very sure"

5K notes · View notes

straylightdream · 16 days ago

Text

heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming soon

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11k and counting

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightsmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy, implied mxm (not really sexually but they hold hands and cuddle)

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, 18+

𝐚𝐧: I was looking at an older story and wanted to make it a minwon story. Honestly I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the same and a couple scenes.

If you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

-PREVIEW-

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about his nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learn about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary here that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu off to his bedroom you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out taking your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on your side he moves so he pressed up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu what didn’t you get me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu has mentioned that in the past especially during college after his accident Wonwoo was by his side. He said in the beginning he couldn’t even sleep alone that Wonwoo would lay in his bed holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawled into Mingyu’s bed curled up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently you rolled off of Wonwoo trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand gripped your thigh pulling you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan as your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours as he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. He suddenly wanted to kiss you but he didn’t know if you even had feelings for him.

You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #minwon x reader #minwon smut #wonwoo smut #mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x you #mingyu x you #heaven knows

441 notes · View notes

vi-steponmeplease · 23 days ago

Text

YOU'RE LOSING ME

pairings - overwhelmed!billie x caring!reader

genre - angst, fluff near the end

synopsis: billie returns from a week-long trip to korea, leading to an intense argument that threatens your relationship.

tw: slight emotional abuse, relationship conflict, reader and billie are in an established relationship, billie calls reader clingy

word count: 2.7K

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition

⟡

i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

As the first rays of sunlight stream through the curtains, you slowly open your eyes, your vision blurry for a few seconds as you gaze out the window. Extending your arm, you touch the empty spot on the sheets beside you—cold and untouched.

Your girlfriend Billie has been in Korea for what feels like forever, though it’s only been a week. Her long-awaited album just dropped, and she’s been consumed with interviews and appearances. She hasn’t been responding to your texts much, leaving you feeling lonely. Still, you remind yourself how hard she’s working and try not to let it bother you too much.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you shuffle to the bathroom, turning on the tap to run a warm bath. Back in your room, you grab the hoodie Billie gave you before she left. Her signature scent still lingers, drawing a small, bittersweet smile to your face as your chest tightens with longing. You slip it on over matching sweatpants, preparing for a strawberry-scented bath to shake off the ache of missing her.

Today’s the day Billie finally comes home. The thought brings a flicker of excitement, breaking through the gloom of the past week. You've been counting down the hours, longing for the moment you'd see her walk through the door, ready to wrap her in your arms. You’d planned everything—dinner, her favorite movie, and the kind of quiet, comforting night you know she loves.

You’ve spent the whole morning searching Instagram for recipes, carefully selecting her favorites. After your bath, you tie your hair up into a ponytail and get to work, letting the rhythmic hum of a Clairo playlist fill the air.

Two hours pass, and you’ve prepared mashed potatoes, a fresh salad, and a pot of pasta with vegan meatballs. The table is set, the living room prepared, and her favorite movie is paused on the TV.

At about 6 PM, the sound of keys jangling at the door makes your heart leap as you set two plates on the coffee table. You rush to greet her, a bright smile on your face as the door swings open. There she is—Billie, standing with her luggage in hand, looking as stunning as ever.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft but distant, her expression tired.

“Hi, baby,” you reply warmly. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she says, forcing a small smile. But there’s no hug, no kiss, no affectionate greeting. Your stomach knots at the coldness in her demeanor.

“How was your trip?”

“Busy. Lots of interviews.” Her tone is flat, almost disinterested as she runs a hand through her black hair.

“I made you dinner,” you say, stepping aside to reveal the table you’d prepared. The sight of her favorite dishes and the movie queued up for the night should’ve brought a smile to her face, but instead, she sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“That’s great, baby, but I think I’ll pass.”

Your smile falters, but you quickly push aside the sting, which is instantly overpowered by your care. Checking on her is one of your priorities, and you know her well. You two have been together for a year and a half, so by now, you can immediately tell when something's wrong. “Are you okay? You seem... off.”

“I’m just tired,” Billie mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Well, we can relax on the couch, eat something, watch the movie—”

“I wanna be alone, Y/N,” she interrupts sharply. Her tone cuts through you, the weight of her words hitting harder than you expect. “You’re going to want to cuddle and... I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh.” The hurt threatens to spill over, but you swallow it down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t do that,” she snaps, crossing her arms as her piercing gaze meets your confused expression. “Don’t guilt-trip me like this.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” you reply softly. “I just—”

“Just drop it, okay?” she says firmly.

You hesitate, but something inside you refuses to let it go. “Okay, no. You don’t get to treat me like this after I’ve spent all day trying to make things nice for you. I know you’re tired, but that doesn’t mean you can push me away.”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this,” Billie says, gesturing dismissively at the table. “You’re the one who went overboard.”

“Because I care about you,” you argue, stepping closer. “Because I wanted to make you feel better after a long week. All I wanted was to spend some time together, but apparently, that’s too much to ask.”

Billie’s eyes narrow. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You’ve barely answered my texts, you’ve been distant all week, and now you’re acting like I’m the problem for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend.”

You almost can't recognize the person in front of you. Is this why she'd been so cold lately? Usually, after long trips like this, she'd get extremely clingy, refusing to leave your side while repeatedly claiming how much she'd missed you and peppering your face with a billion kisses.

"I've been busy, Y/N. You can't expect me to be on my phone 24/7," she argues, a frustrated groan slipping out. "What, are you gonna strangle me for doing my job?"

"Billie," you resolutely call out as you cross your arms defensively. "When have I ever not been understanding to your circumstances? I know how hard you work, and I know your job means you gotta travel around the world. And I've always been okay with that."

She lets out a dry laugh, her tone dripping with exasperation. "So, why are you acting so goddamn needy right now?"

The word hits like a slap. She knows how much that word cuts you, how deeply it taps into your insecurities.

"Why are you being so unbearable right now?" you retort, matching the volume of her tone. Not yelling, but not calm either.

"Just stop it. You're making a big deal out of nothing—"

"No, I'm not. Stop trying to make me sound crazy."

You make your way to the kitchen and grab a glass cup from the dish rack, filling it up with cold water before taking a sip. Your throat had begun to to run dry since you haven't eaten or had anything to drink all day. "You could've been nicer about it. Why are you acting surprised and attacking me for wanting to spend time with you after a week apart?"

billie follows you and leans against the counter, feigning indifference as you stare at her from the other side of the kitchen, your eyes scorching with fury. "A week's not that long."

You scoff after setting the cup on the counter in front of you. "Yeah, says you who literally couldn't wait for me to come home after I slept over at my sister's house for two days."

"That's different." She rolls her eyes and prods her tongue against the inside of her cheek. The audacity leaves you speechless for a second before you regain your composure.

"What changed?" You shake your head in disbelief as you replay the memories of the sweet nothings she would whisper in your ear after being gone for so long. Whether she'd be gone on tour for a month, or if she'd just go visit her parents and Finneas for the weekend, she'd always return to you. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Billie lets out a pained sigh as she shuts her eyes tightly, hoping this moment would just disappear. This is the first time you've seen her show a single emotion other than apathy the whole time she's been back. "I think..." she trails off, not knowing how to correctly word the sentence on the tip of her tongue.

"You think what?" you ask, growing a little impatient as you watch her part her lips again.

"I can’t do this anymore,” she says, the words spilling out like venom. “I think we need a break.”

Your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. "What the fuck?"

Rounding the corner of the counter, you gently reach out to hold her hands, but she withdraws herself and steps further away. The room seems to tilt as her words sink in. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

“I just... I can’t be in a relationship right now. It’s too much.”

Your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “Billie, please. We can figure this out—”

“It’s not up to you,” she says, her tone colder than you’ve ever heard it.

“Don’t do this,” you plead. Never in a million years did you picture tonight ending this way, with you practically begging her to take you back.

She steps back, shaking her head, her emotionless blue orbs meet yours, damp and red. “I need space.”

"If you just listened when I told you to leave me alone earlier, this wouldn't be happening right now." Billie's voice rises, although she's never yelled at you before. Every time you two would argue, she'd still try her best to steer clear of doing or saying anything she might regret afterwards.

"Don't you fucking blame me," you yell back, your knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on the edge of the counter. "I just wanted to spend the night with my girlfriend after being away from each other for so long. You're the one who—"

She lets out another humorless chuckle as she steps forward, leaning closer until your faces are mere inches apart. "Say one more fucking word and I'm never coming home again." She watches your furious expression falter as your eyebrows scrunch together, a crease forming in your forehead. You remain silent and that's when she pulls back. "That's what I fucking thought."

You lower your gaze as she moves out of your view, striding towards your shared bedroom. All you hear is the sound of her footsteps padding across the ceramic floor tiles and trailing further from where you helplessly stand, before you hear the door slam. The sound reverberates through the house, leaving you frozen in place.

Your reticence lingers for a few minutes, almost as if you're too afraid to utter a single word or she'd walk out on you. A quiet sob escapes your lips when your legs give out and you slump onto a stool, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally fall.

The food's cold. It's all you can think about.

The food you spent all of last night planning out, and most of today to make. It's cold. Untouched.

Her words from earlier hit you like cinder blocks. The weight of each sentence uttered makes your heart sink further into your chest as if it's been attached to an anchor.

Questions flood your mind, each one heavier than the last. What went wrong? Was it something you did? How long has she felt this way?

You sit there for hours, drowning in your thoughts, wondering if she’s lying awake like you are, or if she’s already moved on—emotionally gone from what once felt unbreakable.

This isn't something she'd ever normally do. Billie's the most gentle person, especially with you. She'd never do anything to hurt you.

Hues of red and orange begin to spill through the living room window, painting the walls with soft, warm light. You take a shaky breath, turning your head to the window. The sunrise is breathtakingly beautiful—an ironic contrast to the emotional storm you've just endured through one of the worst nights of your life.

You sniffle quietly, wiping away the lingering tears with the back of your hand, your lips trembling from the strain of holding back sobs.

In the bedroom, Billie sits on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest as she stares blankly at the wall. The faint light of the bedside lamp reflects the glimmer of dried tears streaked across her cheeks. She hadn’t bothered to turn it off, too lost in her own thoughts. Her lips are pressed into a remorseful line, her usual confidence replaced with raw guilt. She knows she messed up—knows she acted ungrateful when all you wanted was her.

A heavy sigh escapes her as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to get up. Thirst claws at her throat, but so does the anxiety of facing you. Deep down, she half-expects you to be gone by now—out of the house and her life for good after everything she said. But as she shuffles into the living room, Billie’s breath catches when she sees you still there, perched on the same stool by the counter where she’d left you hours ago.

Her stomach twists as she takes in your figure: slouched shoulders, tired eyes, and the faint, broken sniffles that fill the otherwise silent space. Each sound cuts deeper into her chest. She hesitates for a moment, her hand twitching as she reaches out, wanting to comfort you, but unsure if she even deserves to. Slowly, she steps closer, finally giving in to the ache in her heart.

Tentatively, Billie wraps her arms around you from behind. You flinch slightly, startled by the touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. It's the last thing you expected.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You have no idea,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. Her grip tightens as though afraid you might slip away. “I don’t know what got into me last night. I never should’ve yelled at you or called you needy. You just wanted to be with me, and I—I was awful. I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

Your chest heaves, struggling to regulate your breathing. You can’t bring yourself to speak, the lump in your throat too heavy. After a long beat of silence, Billie pulls back slightly, moving to face you. Gently, she tilts your chin up, her heart sinking when she sees the toll her words took on you—your puffy, tear-streaked face, trembling lips, and bloodshot eyes.

Her hands cup your cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the dampness. “I did this to you,” she says, her voice barely audible, as if scolding herself. “I made you cry.”

“Was I… too much?” you croak, your voice cracking. The question hangs in the air, fragile and weighted with insecurity. “Too clingy?”

Billie’s brows knit tightly, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No. Never. You’re never too much, love. I’m so sorry.” She rests her forehead against yours, her voice soft but firm. “I’ll never lash out at you like that again. I promise.”

“It’s seven,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice still trembling.

Her eyes widen slightly. “You spent all night here crying?”

You nod wordlessly, and she exhales shakily, guilt washing over her anew. Without hesitation, Billie takes your hands, guiding you off the stool. “Come on,” she murmurs gently, leading you back toward the bedroom. As the door shuts softly behind you, she repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

You chuckle faintly, the sound raw and tired. “You’ve said that a billion times.”

“And I’ll say it a trillion more if that’s what it takes,” she replies, her lips curving into a soft smile as she wraps her arms securely around your waist. Her tone grows tender. “I love you. You’re never, ever too much for me.”

The warmth of her words soothes your aching heart, though the memory of the night still lingers. “You said you wanted a break,” you remind her, your voice a fragile whisper.

“I don’t,” she says quickly, her gaze earnest. “I was overwhelmed and stressed with everything. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That’s on me.” Her fingers gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch featherlight. “But I don’t want a break. I want you. I'm sor—"

You shake your head, letting out a fragile laugh. “If you apologize again, I swear—”

Billie cuts you off with a soft, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of regret and love into the moment. Your hands instinctively move to her shoulders, pulling her closer, grounding yourself in her warmth.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her blue eyes shining with affection and sincerity. “Let’s get some sleep, baby,” she whispers, her voice like a balm to your soul.

And for the first time that night, you feel the weight on your chest begin to lift.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish angst #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #hit me hard and soft #billie x reader #lesbian #Spotify

542 notes · View notes

orimuraa · 23 days ago

Text

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Sorry, I love you - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆enhypen after an argument ⨾

۶ৎ ot7!enhypen x fem!reader ┆angst, a bit of fluff┆mentions of arguing, petnames, kisses, crying┆ wc 958

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hellooo! im back from the dead once again..sorry ive been so inactive 😓 school is really busy lately but i promise to be more active! please reblog if you enjoyed ^^

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

after the two of you said your peace, you went separate ways to just have time to think. you and heeseung rarely got into arguments, so it hurt a lot when you did. “baby?” a small voice came from behind the door as you hesitantly walked to the door. opening it, you saw your boyfriend, his big bambi eyes looking up at you apologetically. “oh baby i’m so sorry, i never meant to lash out at you,” he sighs, pulling you into a soft embrace at the sight of your red and puffy eyes. he knows that after arguments, it’s always best to just hold one another and talk through it. he loved you so much, he just couldn’t risk ever losing you.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

the moment jay's hurtful words slip past his lips, he's all over you, apologizing, kissing you, telling you how he never meant it. you know he didn't mean it and you know it was a mistake. but the words hurt. an argument that got out of hand and now jay was at your feet, profusely apologizing to you. you pull him up and into a tight hug, whispering into his chest that you know he didn't mean it and how you aren't mad. "princess, i love you so much. you're too good to me," he says, kissing the crown of your head and whispering sweet words of affirmation to make up for his cruel ones.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

it was late and jake had just gotten home from practice. one small sentence threw him off and lead to a stupid argument. the two of you were tired and in dire need of sleep, so the words being thrown around didn't entirely make sense. it ended up that jake needed some time to calm down and shower, while you took some time to also calm down in the living room. "sweets? i'm so sorry i said all those things, you know i didn't mean a single word. i'm just so tired and exhausted.." jake says, sitting down next to you on the sofa. no more words needed to be exchanged as the two of you held each other close, small "i love you"s coming from one another.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

the words kept on replaying in your head as you sat alone in your bedroom, replaying the argument you had with sunghoon. it was something stupid that quickly escalated and ended with cruel words spewing out of sunghoon's mouth. you knew he didn't mean a single thing he had said but you still wanted him to explain himself. you both agreed that it would be best to calm down before talking again, so that's what you did. now, as sunghoon sat next to you, you saw him fiddling with his fingers, nervously looking down. "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry my angel," he struggled to say, but it was enough. even though it was short, it had so much raw emotion to it and you knew he meant it. sunghoon was never good with words so this was enough. you pulled him in for a sweet kiss, no words needed, just the comfort from each other.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

sunoo and you rarely got into arguments, both of you opting to try and talk out your issues than continuously yell at each other. but sunoo had just come back from a hard day and he was easily agitated. he snapped at you, but the moment he did, he realized his mistake and rushed over to you, telling you that he was so sorry and he never meant to. yes it did surprise you that sunoo raised his voice that much at you, but you weren't mad. it hurt a bit yes, but you tried to realized that he must've really struggled earlier today. "just don't do it again sun. i'm not mad," you reassure him once the two of you have calmed down and now cuddled together on the bed. "i don't deserve you," he whispers, kissing your shoulders and pulling you in closer.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

when you and jungwon got into arguments, it always ended with the two of you laying together on the bed and talking it out gently. jungwon hated having to raise his voice at you and never meant the cruel words that accidentally slipped from his lips. he always apologized with sweet words of affection after you both calmed down and were ready to talk to one another. if it ever got really bad to the point where you cried, he would spend the whole day holding you and beating himself up for making you cry. he never wanted to hurt you and he would cover you in kisses to make up for it. despite your clashing opinions, during the aftermath of the argument, you would always hear the other person out and let all the thoughts out, wanting to end the argument. he loved you so much and he hated arguing with you, so he always tried to keep the peace as much as possible.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

riki rarely got pissed at you, but there were times where the two of you would argue and since he always had a strong opinion, it was hard for him to back down. with the members, he was hot-headed during arguments, but with you, he always tried to calm down and hear you out. he didn't like fighting with you and he especially didn't like it when the fights got out of hand and tears would drip down your pretty face. he would immediately apologize, kissing away you tears and whispering apologies to you, calming the both of you down. once you and him were okay again, you would apologize and the two of you would spend the rest of the day cuddling and just clinging together.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

480 notes · View notes

gojo-chan · 2 months ago

Text

Fluff Alphabet with Kinich

Request from: @aventurine20

My first request!!! I’m so happy, feel free to ask requests anytime, though I have lots of exams lately so I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to write them

Anyway, this was very fun to write, I love Kinich (lost my 50/50 to Tighnari but okay) and I’m so happy to write for him; the title is self explanatory

Warnings: !!!spoilers for his childhood/character story!!! mentions of domestic abuse; I wouldn’t consider this angst though (the day I start to write angst, we’re all going to cry) and I didn’t sugarcoat his character; also mentions of Ajaw (he’s a menace so he’s considered a warning)

Enough of my yapping

Not my art: credits to 1eternalstar

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He loves how you can make him feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. How you allow him to show his feelings, or how you guide him through it

B = Bonding (what's your favorite mutual bonding activity?)

Eating fruits he cut up specifically for you, in a recluse area, away from people, while watching a beautiful scenery of Natlan unfold, is one of the things he prefers in the whole world. Preferably if Ajaw is in time-out

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Kinich doesn’t really care if he’s the big or the little spoon as long as he’s with you. One things he loves tough, if when cuddling, you kiss his forehead. This part of his face is usually covered so when you do it, he basically feels fuzzy, which he can’t really explain but he likes it

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

You two sitting by a bonfire, Ajaw in time out, stars shining bright… Kinich would be holding your hand in silence, no words would be needed to show his love for you. The heat of the fire would make his cheeks warm up… or maybe it wasn’t the fire after all?

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Expressing emotions can be a tough process for Kinich, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how to. He’s a man of few words, so he’ll definitely convey his feelings through other forms of affection like physical touch or acts of service

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Kinich‘s childhood wasn’t great by any means, and he is terrified at the idea of reproducing his father’s abuse on his own child. If you wish to have a family with him, it will take some reassuring but I wouldn’t say that it is necessary impossible for it to happen

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

His first reaction to a gift would always be to pay you back. With mora or a gift of his own. Even when you explain to him that gift giving doesn’t have to be an exchange, he doesn’t really feel comfortable with giving you nothing in return

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He isn’t a big fan of pda, so if you two hold hands in public, it would be rather discreetly. However, in private, hand holding is one of his favourite form of physical affection, because it’s not overwhelming

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He wouldn’t panic, he wouldn’t scream or scold you. Being a saurian hunter, Kinich knows the basics of first aid and how to tend wounds, so he’ll help you out as fast as possible. If the injury is caused by a person, on purpose, be assured that they will pay the price

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Let’s be real, the only prankster here is Ajaw. He’d try his best to make Kinich flustered around you, hopefully achieving to make him die of embarrassment

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Kinich can be a little awkward during kisses, especially for the first ones, so he prefers when you’re the one initiating them. If you cup his cheeks, he’ll put his hands above yours, if you don’t, he’ll grab your hands. It’s almost like to…ground himself

L = Love Confession (how'd they confess to you? how'd you get together?)

I feel like the one telling you how he feels about you would be Ajaw. The insufferable saurian would make embarrassing comments each time you’d be around Kinich, to the point where you could only notice the blush creeping up Kinich’s cheeks

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

One night, he came back late from a tough mission, sweaty, muddy and exhausted. He just crashed on the floor, too tired to take a step further. Yet even in his “disgusting” state you took care of him, you washed him, put him into clean clothes and cuddled him to bed. To him it meant the world

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Hurting you like his father hurt his mom is definitely a big fear of his. He’d be always careful not to scare you in any way or to be violent towards you, even playfully, it’s a no-no for him.

O = Obvious (how obvious do they make it that they like you?)

Again, the one making it a virus wasn’t Kinich, but his dear companion. The pixelated saurian is actually quite observant of Kinich’s bashfulness around you and would make it known to everyone present

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t really see Kinich using pet names, especially because, if he does, he’ll get teased until the end of time by Ajaw. Kinich wouldn’t probably understand the use of pet names, using your actual name over nicknames would be much more preferable to him

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

He likes to go on walks, missions or expeditions like you. Just exploring Natlan together and enjoying what it has to offer. He likes how you get excited about things that for him, are daily occurrences like Saurian playing together, or just Capybaras bathing

R = Romance (how romantic are they?)

I am not sure if Kinich knows what being romantic means, not that he had any clear examples of it at home. He’ll try his best to make you happy and show you his love though, even if it’s in a rather unconventional way like making sure you drank enough water or giving you some fruits he picked up on an expedition

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Trust is very important in a relationship, and Kinich is aware of that. He would be a bit reluctant to talk about things like his childhood and past traumas but once you two get closed, he’d feel like hiding things away from you would only be detrimental

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

I don’t think getting with Kinich would take that much time, knowing how insistent his companion could be, you’d be aware of his feelings fairly quickly, making things actually easier for the both of you

U = Unique (what makes them unique?)

In a relationship, what makes Kinich unique is his way of showing love. Since he didn’t have a very good role model for the “correct way” of expressing affection, I feel like to him, little acts of service speak volumes rather than words

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? do they like to show you off?)

Kinich isn’t much of a show off, and would like to keep your relationship as private as possible. I don’t even see him vaunting you in moments of jealousy to be honest. If anything he’d like to keep you hidden, to avoid making a big deal out of your relationship

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He’d love to have you by his side during commissions, it could get lonely out there, Ajaw counting rather as a nuisance than a real companion, he’d be glad to have you with him. However, he wouldn’t let you fight a lot, especially if you aren’t as experienced as him, he’d be the kind to ask you to stay behind for your safety

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

With time, Kinich would be aware of your habits, how you respond to certain things in certain ways, in short he would know you quite well out of habit. However, reading emotions isn’t his best quality and even if you’re the one he knows best, it wouldn’t change that. So please explain him how you feel to avoid misunderstandings

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Big proposals, with a giant crowd staring at the couple? A nightmare to Kinich. He’d preferably propose in a calm area, maybe a spot in Natlan where you two go often to watch the scenery, to make it extra special

Z = Zzz (how do they act when they're sleepy? what's it like sharing a bed with them?)

If you want Kinich to be vulnerable, sleep is a pretty neat way of achieving it. If he’s exhausted enough, he’ll let you pamper him without even getting flustered, just enjoying it. So feel free to cuddle with him when he’s eepy, because he needs it

Masterlist

I wrote so much for this, I didn’t even notice

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich fluff #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich x y/n #genshin fanfic #fanfic #fluff #fluff alphabet

445 notes · View notes

spicy-apple-pie · 3 months ago

Text

I was thinking back to Batman and Robin, specifically about Nobody (Morgan, not Maya) and how he was breaking Damian’s fingers.

Imagine Nobody breaks most of his fingers. Damian’s hands are reduced to plastered mitts. Bruce has to do a lot of things for him.

At first, Damian is pretty drowsy thanks to the pain meds. Bruce helps set him up in his room, with lots of pillows to prop him up. Titus hops up on the bed and settles himself right beside Damian, his head resting on Damian's chest. Alfred doesn't want him on the furniture, but Bruce has a hard time kicking Titus off when Damian lays an arm over him. Damian lets it slip that he's been letting Titus sleep on his bed ever since he got him. Bruce smiles and tells him that it'll be their little secret.

Bruce takes nights off to be with Damian. This whole situation really shone a light on how unseen Damian feels and he fully intends on fixing that. Damian gets upset with this, and a mixture of pain, painkillers, a build up of emotions, and being a child, causes him to start bawling. Damian is able to sputter out how he feels like he's such a bother and an outcast. He's so ashamed that his father has to put up with him. That Bruce is stuck taking care of him when there are more important things that need to be done.

And Bruce realizes how young Damian is.

He comes his hands through his son's hair and tells him how there's nothing more important to him right now than taking care of him. He says how sorry he is. How he's going to do better. He loves Damian, no matter what.

And that just makes Damian cry harder. Bruce wants to wrap him up in a hug, but they both have broken ribs, so he settles on kissing his forehead and carefully wiping away his tears.

Bruce doesn't know if Damian remembers, because of the painkillers. But when Damian is more lucid, he doesn't pout when it comes time for Bruce to feed him. Bruce thought for sure Damian would insist on doing it himself. Or complain about being feed like a baby. He even lays his head on Bruce's shoulder when he's watching tv (which he hates but it's better than being bored out of his mind). But nothing is more surprising when Damian asks if Bruce could read to him. Because Damian can't even hold a book, much less turn the pages, he asks Bruce to read out loud. And eventually cuddles up to him with the excuse that he wants to read along.

idk, I was just so unsatisfied with the ending to that arc. I'm very picky about my angst to comfort ratio and it was not hitting it.

463 notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

Note

Could I please request Spencer & Fem Reader based on the episode 9x24 when he gets shot and reader is super worried about him so is comforting him and doing all she can to make sure he’s ok and just fretting over him and on the jet she’s helping him in and just sitting with him next to the couch, brushing his hair so he sleeps. Just lots of cuddles. Maybe overbearing for Spencer because he’s not used to being the one taken care of since it’s usually vise versa. Thanks!!

Wounds: Physical & Emotional

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt

Warnings/Includes: aftermath of Spencer getting shot, reader being overbearing, Spencer snapping, no happy ending

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: hiii i hope this is okay <33 i needed some angst so this was perfect

main masterlist

The atmosphere in the hospital room was filled with a quiet tension, the sterile smell of antiseptics mingling with the dull hum of machines. Spencer lay there, eyes half-open, a little pale and looking both exhausted and grateful just to be alive. His neck, wrapped in fresh bandages, still bore the marks of his ordeal, a stark reminder of how close he’d come to something irreversible.

You stood by his bedside, fingers gently resting on the thin hospital blanket, as if the mere act of touching it could somehow channel some of your strength to him. You'd been pacing the hallway for what felt like hours, running through every worst-case scenario, but finally seeing him, hearing the faint sound of his breathing steady and rhythmic—it brought a wave of relief so overwhelming it nearly took you to your knees.

As his eyes fluttered open, a soft but tired smile curved on his lips when he saw you there. “You… you really didn’t have to stay,” he murmured, his voice a bit strained, weakened from both the injury and the exhaustion that came with it.

You shook your head immediately, your hand instinctively reaching for his, fingers wrapping around his gently. “Don’t even say that, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, each word infused with the worry you’d been bottling up since the moment you’d found out he’d been hurt. “There’s nowhere else I would be. You… I was so scared.”

He squeezed your hand weakly, his thumb tracing a small, reassuring pattern against your knuckles. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know... I know how it must've felt, seeing me like that."

“No, no,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. None of this was your fault. You just… you’re always putting yourself out there for everyone else, and… Spencer, I can’t lose you. Not like that.”

His gaze softened as he looked up at you, the slight sheen of tears glistening in your eyes. He’d seen you in countless stressful situations, through endless cases and late-night work sessions, but this—this was different. “I’m still here,” he assured, his voice barely above a whisper, but steady. “I’m still here.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering, just relieved to feel the warmth of his skin beneath them. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that,” you replied, your voice catching. “I didn’t… I didn’t know if I’d get to.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, letting himself be comforted by your presence. The weight of what he’d been through hung between you both, unspoken yet deeply felt. It was as though your silent worry, your prayers for his survival, had wrapped around him, bringing him back.

“Are you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper, but still filled with all the care and concern that had carried you through those agonizing hours of waiting.

He chuckled softly, a little hoarse, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he shook his head. “Just having you here is… more than enough,” he replied, his hand squeezing yours a little more firmly, a silent acknowledgment of how much it meant to him that you’d stayed, that you were there.

Your hand drifted from his forehead to his cheek, your thumb softly tracing the edge of his jaw, and for a moment, he simply closed his eyes, letting himself rest, letting himself lean on you.

“Promise me,” you said softly, breaking the quiet that had settled over you both. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, that… that you won’t go scaring me like this again.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at you, a small, apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “But you know me…”

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile of your own finally breaking through the worry. “Yeah, I do,” you murmured, shaking your head fondly. “Which is exactly why I’ll be here, making sure you keep that promise.”

—

Your concern for Spencer had taken on a life of its own, a constant, consuming presence that followed him from the hospital back to work and even into the comfort of his own home. Every glance his way was laden with worry, every touch a check for signs of strain or pain, an endless stream of small but deeply attentive gestures. It seemed you couldn’t stop yourself from fretting over him, as if that watchful care alone could ensure his safety and recovery.

On the jet, you were never far from his side. When he tried to settle into the couch, you followed, bringing a small pillow and blanket, making sure he was comfortable, even sitting right beside him as if to act as a physical buffer against anything that might cause him pain.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you whispered for what felt like the tenth time, fingers gently brushing a stray curl from his forehead. You stayed close, sometimes pulling a chair beside him, sometimes gently brushing your fingers through his hair in a rhythm that would lull him to sleep. Every time he shifted or opened his eyes, he found you right there, watching him with that same blend of worry and tenderness.

But back at home, your concern reached new levels. You simply couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him to fend for himself—not after what he’d just gone through. Any movement he made was met with your insistent, gentle intervention. “No, no,” you’d say softly but firmly when he reached for the coffee pot or attempted to carry anything from the kitchen. “I’ve got it. You’re supposed to be resting.” You’d guide him back to the couch or bed, a hand on his shoulder as if you thought he might collapse any moment if left unattended.

He found himself surrounded by the constant reminders of your care: you’d already brought him fresh coffee, placed his favorite books within easy reach, even left snacks and water close by. You practically fussed over him like he was made of glass, which at first he found touching. There was an odd but comforting warmth in how your love translated into these little gestures of support.

In the quiet intimacy of his apartment, you’d taken to accompanying him into the bathroom, even the shower, ensuring he was never alone. “I just… I can’t bear to leave you alone yet,” you’d said with a nervous laugh the first time, reaching for his hand. “It makes me feel better, okay?”

Spencer, both surprised and touched, had reluctantly agreed, though he couldn’t deny the awkwardness. You watched him carefully as he bathed, helping him wash himself, bringing him his towel, even brushing his hair afterward with the same attention you give every one of his movements.

Every small thing, even the routine act of bathing, became a moment for you to ensure his well-being. And while it was comforting, he found himself increasingly confined by your constant care.

Finally, it became too much. Spencer, who had always prided himself on his independence, was beginning to feel suffocated, trapped by the very love that usually gave him comfort and strength. He’d always been the one to look after others, the quiet pillar of support, and the sudden inversion had been tolerable at first. But as the days wore on, he found himself unable to breathe under the weight of it.

One evening, after yet another shower where you hovered nearby, he reached a breaking point. Just as he reached for the towel, he looked up seeing you already holding it, his face was now laced with frustration and fatigue. “Can’t you… can’t you just give me a little space?” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended, sharp enough to startle you.

The words hung in the air, and you looked at him, taken aback by the sudden tension in his voice. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident as he struggled to put his feelings into words. “I know you’re worried about me—I know. But you won’t even let me bathe alone,” he continued, his tone edged with an exasperation that mirrored how he felt. “I can’t even think for five minutes without you hovering!”

You took a shaky breath, hurt and confusion clouding your expression as you tried to process his outburst. “I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said softly, your voice breaking with the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

Spencer’s gaze never softened, “I know you’re worried, and I want to appreciate it, I do. But I need time to myself. I need to feel like I can still do something without help. I need space from you!” he raised his voice again.

You flinched as your heart sank, realizing how tightly you’d been holding on to the fear of losing him, how it had manifested in every act of love, every worried glance, every touch that you’d thought was comforting. You nodded, stepping back a little, trying to offer him the space he so clearly needed. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the floor. “I… I’ll give you that space.”

As you quietly closed the bathroom door behind you, Spencer felt a calmness settle over him, a rare feeling of unencumbered space. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how much the attention—though well-meaning and deeply appreciated—had begun to weigh on him, like an invisible net keeping him grounded. The soft click of the door seemed to signal a return to normalcy, to a routine he thought he’d lost somewhere in the haze of his injury.

But what he didn’t realize was how deeply his outburst had hurt you, how you’d clung so desperately to the idea of keeping him safe, only to feel dismissed, even resented, for the very care you’d thought he needed.

Spencer felt lighter as he brushed his hair, each stroke a small declaration of independence. He took his time shaving, enjoying the familiar ritual. He finished, splashing cold water on his face, feeling as if he’d reclaimed a part of himself, a small but significant piece of control.

Satisfied, he wrapped himself in a fresh towel and stepped into the bedroom, thinking of nothing but how good it felt to finally be able to tend to himself. But the moment he crossed the threshold, a chill settled over him. His eyes flicked to the small armchair in the corner, the one that had become a fixture for your bag during your stayover, always waiting quietly, a reminder of your presence and your watchful care. Except now, the chair sat empty. Your bag was gone.

His heart stilled, a sinking feeling creeping into his chest. Quickly, he threw on clothes, barely fastening the buttons of his shirt before moving through the apartment, calling out your name, his voice echoing through the silent rooms. “Y/N?”

He stepped into the living room, glancing around in hopes you were just out of sight, maybe near the kitchen or just down the hall. But there was no answer, no sound, just an aching quiet that pressed in on him like a vise.

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time, almost pleading. But the silence that met him felt crushing. His mind whirled with dread, memories of the sharpness in his tone, the flash of hurt in your eyes just before you’d turned away. The realization of what he’d done, what he’d said, crashed over him with a painful clarity. In his desperate need for solitude, he hadn’t stopped to consider what his words might mean to you, hadn’t thought of how they might cut deep after all you’d done to care for him.

The hollow ache in his chest grew as he scanned the empty room, his mind replaying each moment you’d been there, every touch, every comforting smile. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, the gentle brush of your fingers through his hair. The thought that you might’ve left, might have taken that warmth and devotion with you, was more terrifying than anything he’d faced in the field.

His voice softened, almost a whisper, as he spoke into the empty room, “Please, don’t go.” But the quiet, unyielding silence lingered, leaving him alone with the weight of his words, and he realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d pushed away the one thing he truly needed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005

377 notes · View notes

000-pawz · 7 months ago

Text

solace (m.jh) ˚ · .

myung jaehyun x fem!reader, smut (mdni!!!), very soft, did i mention this is soft, slight angst, jaehyun is exhausted :(, (emotional) hurt/comfort (?)

warnings: sub!jaehyun, softdom!reader, slight dumbification, "puppy", handjobs, nipple play, drool, finger sucking (?)

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: i wrote this on autopilot... i love u puppy jaehyun <3 (i tried to edit it but im sleepy so i may have missed some things ^___^)

he doesn’t usually come to you like this. you knew something was wrong from the moment he asked if he could stay at your place after his schedules instead of coming over in the morning like you had discussed. and when he climbs into your bed that night, he doesn’t say a word; instead, he simply cuddles up to your side and rests his forehead on your shoulder with a sigh so heavy, his entire body melts into the sheets afterwards.

you know jaehyun’s been tired lately. you notice everything. his smile seems weaker, his eyelids are drooped, and he spends most of his time spacing out with his gaze focused on nothing and everything all at once.

you notice it all, except, you aren’t sure what you can do for him. when he got home early tonight, he barely looked you in the eyes before falling into your arms with tears brimming at his waterline, his hands shaky as he gripped the back of your sweater; as if you would crumble away and disappear if he ever let go.

“‘m so tired,” he whispered into your ear before he buried his face in your neck, his tears leaving a damp trail against your skin. you held him back even tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his own neck in return. you knew that he didn’t want you to respond. not yet, at least, so you gently shushed him instead, swaying your bodies back and forth in an effort to soothe him.

you had persuaded him to take a shower while you made him something to eat, his face pale from the lack of meals he’s been having recently. and when he emerged from the condensated bathroom, his eyes were dull and empty, any trace of their usual flicker gone. you asked him about his day and he gave you a limp smile and airy puff of laughter, shrugging as he pushed the food around on his plate.

“it was okay. i got a lot done today.” his eyes flickered up to yours, unreadable and cloudy, and you gave him a gentle smile of your own, placing your hand on top of his.

“i’m proud of you. you always work so hard. you’re amazing.” the words tumbled out of your mouth and you hoped they would stick. lately, you feel as if the praise goes straight through him, swallowed up by the abyss of his own thoughts.

you want to pick at his brain and see what he’s thinking—what you can do to make it better—but he always brushes it off with a little “i’ll be fine. i just need to rest, that’s all.”

but when he presses his body further against yours under the sheets, his hand trailing to grasp the end of your shirt in his fist, you know it’s more than that. it's been more than that for a while.

“jaehyun,” you whisper into the dim room, only illuminated by the glow of the moon and your tiny nightlight plugged in on the opposite wall.

he hums in response, his head tilting slightly to gaze at the side of your face. you turn your own head to face him, reaching up to brush the strands of hair out of his vision. in the dim light, he looks even more tired; and now that it’s just the two of you alone, he doesn't hide anything. his eyes are glossy, his bottom lip trembles, and the heights of his cheeks are flushed red. you want nothing more than to take all of his pain away.

“how can i help you, baby?” you ask quietly, your hand moving down to rest on his warm cheek. his eyes flutter shut at your touch, his fingers gripping tighter at the fabric of your shirt. “what can i do to make it better?”

jaehyun is quiet for a while, but you know he isn’t asleep. his breathing is too heavy and his body is too tense, so at his silence, you trail your fingers up into his hair to massage his scalp, subtly tipping his head back a bit. he lets you maneuver, his body sinking into your touch.

“i… i don’t know,” he mumbles before his eyes open again, meeting yours in the limited light. they’re pleading, shiny, desperate. your stomach churns. “i’m so tired, but i can’t stop thinking. i don’t want to think anymore.”

you hum in acknowledgment, moving closer until your mouth is right above his. he watches your every move with a bated breath, his adams apple bobbing when you move your hand to his chin, your thumb brushing across his lower lip slowly.

“then let me do the thinking for you. would you like that?”

jaehyun makes a small sound at your words, something quiet and airy, his lips parting as your thumb continues to trail across his lips. he doesn’t respond other than his tongue peaking out to invite your finger inside, his eyes slipping shut again as his lips close around your finger. his mouth is warm and wet, the sight of his glossy lips around your digit making your skin heat up.

he’s so pretty like this, docile and receiving, his tongue swirling around your thumb as you delicately push it further into his mouth. his hand shakes from where it’s holding onto your shirt, his grip loosening to sneak his fingers under the fabric instead. they splay out against the skin of your hip, grounding and present.

when you pull your finger out of his mouth, he whines softly, his eyes opening ever so slightly to watch what you’re doing. you give him a small smile before pushing at chest so he can roll onto his back. his shirt rides up a little at the motion, exposing his soft belly and faint happy trail, yet his eyes remain completely fixated on you.

“i asked you a question, puppy…” you start slowly as you straddle his waist. “do you need me to think for you? is puppy done using his brain?”

something warm fills your chest when jaehyun’s hips involuntarily jolt at your words, bouncing you a little in his lap. he looks completely ruined already and you haven’t even touched him yet. his chest rises and falls quickly, his bottom lip coated in a layer of drool. he looks so enticing, you can’t resist the urge to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss before he can even speak.

he moans into your mouth when your tongue swipes across his and his hands shoot up to grip at your thighs that cage him against the bed. it’s pathetic, the way he pants as you drag your teeth across his lip, your hands resting over his chest to steady yourself. and when you break away, he chases after you like he’s been deprived of your taste for centuries.

“answer me,” you mumble, and that’s when jaehyun finally nods through his foggy mind, his hair bouncing with the movement.

“yeah. yes, please, don’t wanna think, please,” he whimpers, his nails digging into your skin. he's incredibly hard beneath you, twitching through his thin pants. with mercy, you place one final kiss to his lips before sitting back up.

your fingers hook underneath the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging it up until his hard nipples are exposed to the cold bedroom air. you bring a hand down to circle one with your pointer finger and jaehyun’s entire body twitches at the stimulation, his cock fighting against the restraint of his underwear in interest. that’s when you press down even harder before flicking the bud, watching the way blood rushes to his chest the more you play with him.

you do the same to his other nipple simultaneously and it doesn’t take long for jaehyun to be reduced to a squirming, whining mess, his head tipped back against the pillows. you lean down to lick at one of his nipples before blowing cold air on it, a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips at the action.

he’s trembling already, your fingernails lightly dragging down the expanse of his abdomen until you reach the waistband of his pants. he’s watching you again, his eyelids hooded and heavy, his lips parted as he breathes heavily, bombarded with anticipation. a piece of art.

you pull his waistband and underwear down in one swift move, his leaking cock slapping against his skin with the motion. he’s so wet and so thick, his tip leaving a dripping trail of precum against his lower stomach, shiny and throbbing. it's cute how his cock squirms as soon as it touches air, his flushed tip spurting weak droplets when you gently trail your finger down the vein on the underside of his dick.

“oh baby, your cock is so big. sucks that you don’t know how to use it, hm?” you speak sweetly, picking up his cock with your thumb and pointer finger before letting it drop back down. jaehyun’s hips buck at the impact, whining quietly as he grips your thighs even harder.

“dunno how…” he mumbles, tears brimming his glossy eyes. he tries to buck his hips up again, but you seat yourself further on him, holding him down. you glide your fingers through his precum before spreading it over his head curiously. his breath hitches at the feeling, his cock jumping ever so slightly, but it’s too heavy to off of his stomach all the way, twitching pathetically.

“that’s okay. i’ll help you cum, okay?” your voice is soft as you lean in to his ear, kissing right below it before trailing your lips to his cheek, placing a tiny kiss there too. “doing so well for me, puppy. you’re always so good for me, aren’t you?”

“good… ‘m good…” he repeats mindlessly, his voice sounding far off and light. you smile a little, tapping his cheek right over the kiss you just left against his skin.

“open up.”

he parts his lips automatically and you bring two of your wet fingers up to his mouth so he can taste himself. his eyes slip shut when you press down on his tongue, his moans quiet and muffled. one of his hands leaves your thigh to grab onto your wrist, his tongue desperately swirling around your fingers, trying to push them further into his mouth. drool escapes the corners of his mouth when he closes his lips round your digits, his cock twitching in between your bodies.

“you like your mouth being stuffed, hm?” you mutter as you slip another finger into his mouth, slightly in awe as he meets your eyes with a small nod, practically gagging around your fingers. you're sure you’ve soaked through your panties by now, the sight in front of you gathering butterflies in your stomach.

you finally bring your other hand down to his neglected cock, wrapping your fingers around the base. they can barely circle all the way around; he’s hot and heavy in your palm, his pre dripping onto your fingers like a faucet.

he’s already a moaning mess when you squeeze his dick as you stroke him slowly, the vibrations of the sound shooting up your arm. his hair falls into his eyes, but he never breaks eye contact, his gaze spacey and yet full of so much devotion, it goes straight to your core. his chest is red, the flush shooting up his neck and face, the tip of his nose blushed and his eyelashes clumped together with tears.

you keep your fingers in his mouth as you pump his cock, running your knuckles over his head slowly. he tries to fuck himself up into your fist, but eventually gives up, succumbing to whatever you decide to give him. he’s completely at your mercy, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the inside of your wrist as he continues to hold onto your arm, his other hand leaving fingernail indents on the soft skin of your thigh.

you can tell he’ll cum fast; he’s usually sensitive on nights like these, pent up from all the stress he accumulates during the day. you can’t help but to coo at the sight of his eyes squeezing shut, trying his best to hold out for you. but tonight is about him. it’s all for him.

“want you to cum for me, puppy. can you do that? can you make a mess for me?”

jaehyun moans loudly at that, his back slightly arching off of the bed when you speed up the pace, wet sounds echoing off the walls, his dick slippery and bright red at the tip. you take your fingers out of his mouth to cup the side of his face, gazing down at him with so much adoration, you think you could burst from it all. he’s gorgeous, taking it all as his body writhes against the sheets, his cock begging for a release.

“close…,” he gasps, placing his hand on top of yours before burying his face in your palm, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. “can i cum? please, please, i’ll make a mess for you… puppy will…”

you smile down at him, circling your palm against the tip of his cock in a way that makes him literally sob, tears rolling his cheeks at the action. his body racks with shivers as his hips messily thrust up into your hand. you mentally savor the image before giving him mercy, brushing your thumb over his cheek soothingly.

“you can cum, puppy.”

as soon as you utter those words, jaehyun breaks, his entire body tensing up as he reaches his high. he’s mumbling all kinds of words, whining and whimpering as streams of cum paint his stomach and chest, thick and white as it rolls down his body.

“love you, love you, love you so much,” he rambles, trembling as his cock continues to spurt tiny bits of cum until it goes limp, twitching against his stomach, worn and wrung out.

when you pull your hand away from his cock, he’s still crying into your palm, gasping and clutching onto your wrist tightly. you gently shush him as you lean in to kiss the tears away from his cheeks. you don’t even care that your clothes and sheets are now covered in cum. he’s completely worked up, his eyes squeezed shut as he quietly sobs.

“oh, jaehyunnie,” you coo, trying your best to brush his tears away. “i’m right here, baby. it's okay. let it all out.”

you lean down to hug him, wrapping your arms around him, chest to chest. you feel his rapid heartbeat through your shirt, his body still slightly shaking and twitching with aftershocks of his orgasm.

“i love you. i love you,” he hiccups through his tears, burying his face in your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist. you smile, squeezing him even tighter.

“i love you. i’m so proud of you,” you say, reaching up to pet his hair.

you hold him until his tears finally simmer down into sniffles, pulling back to cup his face. his eyes are red and watery, his cheeks stained with salty tears, but to you, he's the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“i love you,” you repeat—just to make sure it really sticks this time—before pressing a long kiss to his lips. he melts into you at that, a lopsided smile on his face when you break apart.

“thank you. for everything,” he whispers. you shake your head with a smile of your own, kissing the tip of his nose.

“thank you for coming to me. i’m always here. i’ll always be here.”

you both bask in silence for a bit, taking in the quiet stillness. and then, after a while, jaehyun taps the small of your back, searching for your eyes in the limited lighting of the room.

“can i eat you out now…? please?”

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3 x

masterlist

#000 pawz ⋆˚🐾˖°#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #myung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun hard hours #myung jaehyun smut #myung jaehyun hard hours #<3

836 notes · View notes

cablestwisted · 1 year ago

Text

HELL YES OP love this

I have done this as yes [yellow], kind of [orange], no [red]!! Explanations in tags as usual

Throwns Smiler Oc bingo card at Alton Towers fandom

#M4rm uhh #isnt marmalised #has a mask!#...Debatable enemies with Elidh apparently hates the Wickerman but has also fallen asleep on top of Elidh in a cuddle pile multiple times.#I mean one layer of their voice does giggle or laugh a Lot #wouldnt say chaotic..? they act in a very measured and ruthless way - but their version of order can sometimes be misinterpreted as chaos #YEP uhhh theyre at least referenced multiple times in their design & when they shapeshift they are referenced a LOT #They technically do not work for the MoJ. They pretend they do though #Their creator [me] has suffered with delusions in the past and I have put this in as a factor in their mental health struggles #YEP they do wear goggles a fair bit to hide their eyes #Depends on the outfit but usually no pins #No top hat surprisingly #ANGST ANGST ANGST is it a cablestwisted oc if theres no angst involved #Smiler colour scheme yeppppp #Nope they love Oblivion the ride and my Oblivion manifestation Wolfram is one of their nesting partners!!#No striped gloves or socks their claws and hooves would break them unfortunately also theyd get Goopy #YEP highly biomechanical #No MoJ logo usually! unless its their cosplay version in which case yes to be more recognisable #We love a fancy outfit. yes usually a bit #Themes of mental health are featured as a key theme in my works and in the backstories of my OCs as I am mentally ill myself and want to #explore those themes in a safe way #USUALLY THEIR EYES HAVE SPIRALS YES #Technically no but also their claws and teeth can administer joy serum #They pretend to be but they are NOT they exist in a state of outward calm and inner turmoil. with occasional outbursts. they Dont Emote Muc #yes they have marmalised upwards of 30 people by now #Smiler logo on their mask yes #Their smile is SO CREEPY <3 we love that #M4rm4l #Alton Towers #The Smiler

139 notes · View notes

vrystalius · 4 months ago

Note

Hello so i have been craving angst then fluff so can you write scenarios with the uppermoons x reader, after a huge argument that ended up with the reader walking away from the fight then locking herself in their shared bedroom,and when they come back after duties they find out that she cried herself to sleep with her tear stained and red cheeks, she wakes up and they make up then cuddle (The argument is huge but they are both at fault and they are both right it's just different point of view since they are demons and she is a human).

Arguments with the Upper moons

You and your s/o had a huge argument wich caused you to leave and later cry yourself to sleep. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro x reader

(Gyutaro doing his usual scratching on himself in his part, toxic-ish relationship in his part as well, angst in every part)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are mostly about how emotionally unavailable he is and how much Kokushibo refuses to speak about his feelings. He never elaborates on what he is thinking right now or what he truly thinks of you, this relationship and his feelings for you. You know that Kokushibo is mediating when he is not training, meaning he has plenty of time to think. Why is he never sharing his feelings? You always voice out loud how much you appreciate and love your husband, but he never tells you the same things. Only occasional dry “I love you’s” and some “I appreciate your presence’s”.

You try to tell Kokushibo about how you want to hear more from him and what he truly thinks of you. Sometimes, you feel like he doesn’t love you at all with the way he acts so coldly around you.

Kokushibo’s voice is stern and condescending while arguing with you. He only states the most obvious things and still doesn’t admit his true feelings towards you. This makes your heart ache even more than before. Seeing the tears form in the corners of your eyes made him scoff quietly.

“Why are you crying now? Did I hurt your “feelings”?”

That last comment made a wave of nausea wash over your whole body. Before you let yourself throw up onto his feet, you quickly rushed into your shared bedroom to hide your crying face.

You ignored Kokushibo’s demands to open up the bedroom door for almost one hour until Muzan finally ordered a meeting with him. Tears continue to stream down your face as you curled up into a small ball below the sheets. Your bed felt eerily empty without your husband beside you, but right now, you don’t want him here. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up by cold fingers brushing against your now dry cheeks.

After you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Kokushibo kneeling beside you and gently caressing your cheeks. His bottom and upper eyes were closed. It was his unique way to show that he feels safe and relaxed around you. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the gentleness in his touch.

“I… I should apologise for my words I spoke to you earlier. I did not mean to hurt you in any way.”

Kokushibo’s voice was deep and soothing. You could hear how hesitant he was about speaking like this. He barely ever shows his vulnerable side to you and insists to keep his guard up at all times. That is one of the many things why you two argue so much. He spend the last 500 years to perfect his fighting style and whole being. Even during his human years he forgot his own humanity, but around you, his emotions try to resurface. Your influence and affection make him softer, and in his opinion, weak. He does not want you to see him as weak, but that he is strong, powerful and a perfect being.

“Could you forgive me for acting so harshly? I do truly love you and I’d like to prove it to you.”

Douma

Douma’s lack of understanding of emotions cause a lot of arguments between you two. He continues to dismiss your feelings as just some silly moods you tend to have and never takes them seriously. Douma is listening to his follower’s woes all day every day, but he does not really pay attention to their words. He mostly zones out and then offers some loose advice based on some words he picked up while they continue to talk and talk and talk. He does the same thing with you.

When you try to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma has his meals in your shared bedroom and leaves behind a bloody mess and even some bodyparts. It’s disgusting, especially to you, who is a human. But all he hears is that he should send in a follower to clean your chambers after his meals. This was not the problem you were trying to solve, you were trying to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma eats humans in your bedroom, yet he doesn’t listen.

That isn’t even the most infuriating part. Besides him not listening to your thoughts, he sometimes mocks you for feeling emotional about it. It may be unintentional, but when you start crying during an argument, Douma sometimes giggles at your expression. It’s humiliating how hilarious he finds your crying face and in return it made you incredibly mad at him. Wich also makes him grin.

Yes, Douma may not grasp the concept of emotions, but you wished that he doesn’t dismiss them that easily.

During one of your arguments, you were trying to tell him about how you didn’t like how he disregards your emotions so easily.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You’re a silly human after all, your emotions are very entertaining to me!”

After Douma finished his sentence, you slapped your hand across his face as hard as you could. You knew that he will barely even feel it tickle his skin, but you wanted to demonstrate how infuriated you are with him. While your husband was trying to understand what exactly just happened to him, you already stormed off to your shared bedroom and made sure to properly lock the door. Additionally, you opened the blinds all the way and let the sun in to make sure that damn demon stays away from you for the time being. You cannot stand to see his smirking face right now.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying. There was only hoping that Douma didn’t see your tears running down your cheeks, or else he will mock you about those too, just like he does with every other emotion you have.

You fell asleep while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and with a pillow between your arms. Long after you fell asleep, someone started slipping the pillow out of your arms and sneakily replaced it with their own body. You tried to escape out of Douma’s arms, but his grip was tighter. His face was uncharacteristically and eerily neutral, not showing any emotions right now.

“I don’t really get emotions, you know? They’re always been foreign to me.”

His voice sounded distant and detached. Who is this man that is cuddling you right now? You kept staring at his face while he spoke.

“I never really felt them. They just weren’t there then I was born. I saw them on other people’s faces and had to learn manually what they meant.”

Douma’s cold fingers slowly brushed through your hair as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He remained in this position while he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I never meant it. You just confuse me with your emotions sometimes, but you also…kind of… make me imagine? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m trying to talk myself into feeling something, but when you’re around me, I feel something close to happiness. Or whatever that emotion is that I’m feeling.”

His eyes soften up slightly while speaking. You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

“But hey, you stopped resisting my cuddles~ does that mean I’m allowed back into bed? Would you be a sweetheart and close the blinds? You don’t wanna wake up next to a pile of ash, right?”

Akaza

“Stop worrying” and “toughen up” are things you hear almost every day from Akaza. He hates the weak and any sign of weakness, and since you are a human, weakness and vulnerability is a rather big part of you when you compare yourself to a demon like him. You can’t help but not being able to ignore the look he gives you everytime you either hesitate about something or try to explain your feelings to him. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes have this look of disdain in them. His jaw clenches and you can see the veins pop out a little. That look alone, intentional or not, makes you shut up quickly.

You never heard him say “I love you” to you before, ever. You tried asking him about it but all that resulted in him coming up with some weak excuse. All you wanted is for Akaza to tell you if he does really love or if he is just staying by your side for his own entertainment or pleasure. You just want him to say “I love you” at least once and admit his feelings to you, but he stubbornly refuses.

Akaza was trying to contain his anger inside him while you were talking about exactly that. His fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Until suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the wood beneath it, making you jump away.

“Why do you have to be so weak? All this crying and fucking feelings, they make you fucking pathetic and weak. I’m trying to protect you and you’re too blind to see it. I’m starting to think that protecting you was a waste of my time after all.”

Those words shattered your heart in an instant. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are just a waste of time to him, he has better things to do after all. He wants to become the strongest demon after all. This is the end of you two, isn’t it? You didn’t want Akaza to see your crying face and think even less of you, if that’s even possible, so you ran away into your bedroom and hid beneath the covers as if those will shield you from him and the rest of the world around you.

Tears ran down your face silently while you slowly fell asleep, but you woke up rapidly when you felt strong arms wrap incredibly tight around you. Your heart almost stopped in fear when you felt the familiar aura tightly pressing up against you, but you couldn’t help but begin to melt into his arms.

Akaza never was good with words. The words he uses are mostly intentionally and unintentionally used go hurt others, wich includes you. You felt how he buried his face into your neck and silently savoured your smell. His rough palms were gently rubbing up and down your waist, almost a little desperate to feel your skin again. He lifted his face from your neck and rested it right beside your head. His thick fingers carefully brushed through your hair.

“I should say it. You deserve it.”

You turned your head over to face him. You noticed freshly healed skin on his knuckles and all over his hands, leaving little room to guess what exactly he was doing while you slept. A nervous frown started appeared on his face. Akaza took a very deep breath before you listened to his shaky voice.

“I like you. A-A lot. Lots. Well, I-I really… uhm… Love you…I love you.”

Gyutaro

He always has been jealous, and always will be. Gyutato fears that you are going to leave him at any time and any day. That makes him incredibly clingy and protective of you and he refuses to leave your side, ever. He follows you around everywhere and tries to hover around you at all possible times. You had to convince that demon that you are perfectly capable to use the bathroom on your own without him needing yo stand right beside you. But after you finished up and left, you found Gyutaro crouched down beside the bathroom door, waiting and listening in case something somehow happens to you.

It’s incredibly tiring to have to be so careful around him. You fear that if you stray too far from him or disappear from his sight for too long that Gyutaro might start either slashing humans out of frustration or start scratching himself again. It’s mentally extremely weighing onto you. You tried to tell Daki about her brother and how stressed he’s making you feel, but she obviously takes Gyutaro’s side and shifts the issue back onto you.

“Well have you ever considered that my brother is just being very loving, hm? You better appreciate it you ungrateful human.”

Daki’s words did certainly not help you feel any better. She of course told her brother about you confiding in her, wich made Gyutaro almost seethe in jealousy and anger. That same night, you two had the worst argument yet.

You tried to tell him how suffocating he is while he is accusing you of not loving such a like creature like him. Your attempts at telling him how much you actually love and cherish him failed.

"No matter what you say or do, I-I’ll never be good enough for you...! You’re just pr-pretending to love me because you feel sorry for me…Deep down, you think I’m ugly, dirty and disgusting…”

The gut-wrenching sound of Gyutaro scratching his own skin open filled the silence as you stared at him. Gods, you had enough. You’re too exhausted to fight against his insecurities right now, so instead of continuing this useless argument, you stormed off into your private bedroom. After turning your back to him, you heard his nails tear through his own flesh and bones incredibly slowly and agonisingly.

You laid down on top of your large bed and faced away from the door, trying not to think about his words or the sound of Gyutaro’s blood gushing out of his flesh wounds. You were so concentrated on trying to think about anything else that you didn’t notice how you slipped into a deep slumber. You only woke up to the sound of bones cracking and crushing together.

Lifting your head, you scanned the space on the bed beside you. Empty. As you sat upright, you managed to glance over the edge of the bed, spotting Gyutaro being curled together on the floor. He looked like a very unnaturally bend puppy that wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. After calling out to him, he silently lifted his head to look at you.

Even looking at him caused a wave of nausea and guilt wash over you. Not a single inch of his skin was left unharmed by his own doing, and he seemingly refused to let them heal. His blood started to soak the carpet beneath him. Gyutaro slowly started to sit back upright, his spine cracking and breaking.

“Mh… mrrm.. am I-I allowed.. to la-lay beside you?”

💠

This took me multiple days to write so it may feel a little off. I loved writing this so much!! I always read the comments and reblogs, so don’t be shy to leave any! I appreciate every single one of you and the love you leave behind on my posts <3 I am currently working through my inbox, so expect more asks to be published over the week.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

540 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 28 days ago

Text

Part 12: Fleeting Moments Of Forever

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

I let my guard down and you pulled the rug (I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved)

(In which a depressed by recent events author spreads her depression)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint really hard, Hurt with a little bit of comfort if you squint really hard again (basically just squint you guys!)

Words: 12.3K

TW: Swearing (as per usual), a man (ew), brief reference to parental abandonment

A/N: Good morning/night my lovelies <3 Not quite sure what to say when it's one in the morning and I'm slightly delirious but I'm only a couple of hours late with this. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm sure I will once again be spammed with asks calling me evil, but remember lovelies, it's for the plot! I will be editing this chapter at some point tomorrow because I just really don't have the energy to edit but I wanted to get this out for you guys by tonight. So if you're reading tonight and see mistakes, please feel free to point them out and I'll fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves!

May 2033

~ A few minutes ago ~

Azzi feels like shit as she runs up the stairs behind her daughter. She feels like a shit mother, she feels like a shit sister-in-law-sort-of-kinda-thing and most of all she feels like a shit ex-girlfriend-turned-complicated-current-situationship-or-whatever. And saying those complicated relationship titles in her head only makes her feel worse. Because really it should’ve been so simple; it had been so simple. And Azzi had chosen to make everything complicated and difficult instead.

Drew’s words had been like a shot going down wrong, an accusation she knew she deserved but one that stung all the same. Paige’s silence -the fact that she hadn’t been able to give Azzi the assurance that she’d forgiven her- had been like the terrible chaser after that only made her feel more nauseous. And the after effects of it had been Azzi exploding all her feelings on her baby girl who’d just wanted some damn soda.

Letting the guilt fester, Azzi pushes open the door to Paige’s bedroom to find Stephie cuddled up against lavender pillows, one of Paige’s few hoodies that hadn’t made it to the Fudd household draped around her tiny little body. Azzi’s heart constricts at the sound of her daughter’s hiccoughs, tightening even more when she notices the wet patch Stephie’s tears have created against the pillow.

“Stephie-bean,” she says softly as she climbs onto the bed, reaching out to brush a hand across the little girl’s curled up frame.

“Go away Mama. I’m mad at you,” Stephie’s petulant reply is immediate as she shrugs off Azzi’s hand, furling away further into herself.

“I know sweetheart-”

“You yelled at me,” Stephie continues, trying to keep her voice as firm as a five-year old’s can be but it’s too many emotions for such a little soul and Azzi can hear the telltale sign of a fresh new set of tears just waiting to fall.

She tries again, gently pulling Stephie’s back against her chest and this time, there’s little resistance as the little girl goes easily into her mother’s arms. Azzi tightens her arms around Stephie’s waist, pressing a litany of featherlight kisses into her hair in between apologies, “I’m sorry. Mama’s so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t’ve yelled like that baby-”

“No you shouldn’t’ve,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, as she turns her body around to face her mother’s and Azzi’s hands instinctively move to wipe away the tears tracks on her face, “you were so loud. I don’t like when you yell.”

“I know bean,” Azzi says, the tight grip of remorse squeezing her heart harder at the melancholy in her daughter’s words, “but Stephie baby you know soda’s bad for you-”

“But it’s Friday Mama and I only wanted a little,” the little girl whines immediately, “I swear Mama I would’ve only had a little bit and then I would brushed my teeth so hard and they’d be sparkling white like this,” she pulls her cheeks wide open so she can bare her pearly white teeth at her mother, “see!”

And despite that heavy pit in her stomach, Azzi can’t help the slight peal of laughter that rumbles throughout her and elicits a matching grin from her daughter. She ruffles the little girl’s hair before pulling her flush against herself, Stephie’s head burrowing itself into the crook of her neck and for the first time tonight, Azzi finally feels like she can breathe again. Because at the end of the day, what matters most is the child wrapped securely in her arms and as long as she has Stephie, Azzi thinks, no matter what, she’ll find a way to survive. For Stephie.

Something soft and fluffy brushes against her skin and Azzi reluctantly unfocuses from Stephie to find that the arm of the hoodie that had previously been draped over her daughter’s body, is now wrapped around both of them. Paige’s hoodie. She stares at the material, eyes blinking back tears as that wretched feeling of something’s missing whirls around her. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling; this secret craving that Azzi had often found herself hiding away from when she and Stephie were alone. A craving to have Paige there too, a craving for the two of them to be cradled in the blonde’s strong arms, a craving for this almost perfect picture to be complete. And now that she’s had a taste of what it’s like to have that - these past few weeks having felt like a tester of what it could be like to live in a dream that Azzi had thought she was no longer allowed to dream- Azzi wants nothing more than for it to be permanent.

Another wave of guilt crashes against her as her mind flickers back to the bitter note she’d ended the conversation down stairs on. The stinging emphasis she’d placed on my daughter echoes loudly in her ears and even though Azzi knows that technically she hadn’t said anything untrue, the image of Paige’s face falling -the sparkle in her eyes dimming at the reality of the younger woman’s words- makes Azzi’s heart stutter with regret. There’s a part of her that thinks it’s all happening too fast, a part of her that’s in a constant duel with the rest of herself that’s ready to call Stephie theirs. And she knows it’s only been a couple of weeks -knows that it’s a little insane to have already carved out a place for forever on a shelf that’s plagued with uncertainties- but the truth is that there’s always been an unfilled space in Azzi and Stephie’s world that’s just been waiting for Paige to step in and claim it. It’s always been hers; they’ve always been hers.

“Mama,” Stephie’s quiet voice mumbles against her chest and Azzi distractedly hums in return, “why does Miss Buecks have to learn to say no to me?”

“Because she likes to say yes a little too much and she definitely likes to say yes to you but if she keeps saying yes all the time, she’s gonna spoil you. Well more than you already are that is,” Azzi teases goodnaturedly, tugging at Stephie’s nose.

The little girl pouts loudly before indignantly refuting her mother’s statement, “I am not spoiled. I’m a good girl. A very good girl. A very, very, very, very, very-”

‘Okay, okay, okay,” Azzi says, hushing the little girl with a slight laugh before she can continue to repeat herself, “you’re my very good girl who’s just a little bit spoiled.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Stephie admits, scrunching her nose, “but how come you never make Aunty Leen or Aunty J or Aunty Tessie or any of your other teammates say no to me?”

“Because-well,” Azzi struggles to find the words, “Miss Buecks is- she’s just- it’s different and she’s around a lot more,” she’s around all the time, “and so she’s gotta learn to say no to you sometimes.”

“Like Pops had to learn to say no to me if he wanted to keep helping Nana babysit?” Stephie asks earnestly and Azzi laughs at the reminder of how she and Katie had basically had to force Tim into learning how to say no to his persuasive granddaughter.

“Yeah something like that,” she says with an amused grin.

“So Miss Buecks is like-” Stephie pauses, hesitating slightly before a soft smile -one that bears an uncanny resemblance to the one her mother sometimes has when thinking of the same woman- appears on her face, “she’s like family?”

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat; the delicate mix of sincerity and innocence in her daughter’s voice makes her pause. Because Stephie says it like it’s the most simple yet most important truth in the word, that’s it’s common knowledge she’s known all her life. Paige is family.

“Yeah,” the brunette breathes out finally, the edges of her lips slightly upturning into a grin that matches her daughter’s, “I guess she is.”

Stephie nods quietly as she mulls over her mother’s answer and Azzi can practically see the cogs turning in her brain before her daughter’s dark brown thoughtful eyes look back up at her, “so does that mean we can keep Miss Buecks forever?”

“I-’

“I mean cause you said she’s family right?” Stephie babbles on, ignoring the way Azzi’s eyes have widened considerably, “and family- family is forever right Mama? That’s what they say? So- so if Miss Buecks is family that means she has to stay forever? We get to keep her forever?”

Azzi blinks rapidly at the onslaught of words falling from her daughter’s lips. Stephie makes it sound so simple; she makes a forever with the three of them sound like a given, like something that’s meant to be. And it makes her think of that night eight years ago, when Paige had made it sound just as simple.

Be mine forever.

It was Azzi who had made it complicated; obsolete even.

But, she thinks, she won’t this time. As she looks back down at her daughter, the hopeful smile on Stephie’s face as she awaits Azzi’s answer, feels a little bit like fate is giving her another chance; a clear sky to re-write her own destiny in the stars. This time, with Paige.

“Do you- do you want that,” Azzi asks slowly, “do you want to keep Miss Buecks forever?”

If possible Stephie’s smile grows even larger as she gives her mother what can only be described as a ‘duh’ look, “of course Mama. I want Miss Buecks forever and ever and ever. You want that too don’t you Mama?”

Azzi pauses for a second, letting herself be immersed in the idea.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes suddenly misty. And she knows that there’s still so much left unresolved, that tonight had revealed a chiasm of problems they’d have to still build a bridge over to get back to each other. But for a chance at a forever Azzi had thought she’d long forsaken, Azzi’s willing to try, “yeah I think I’d like to keep Miss Buecks forever too.”

The squeal Stephie lets out practically bounces off the walls in tandem with the little girl springing off the bed and Azzi laughs as her daughter wraps her small hands around her mother’s much larger ones, trying to tug her along.

“Stephie wait sweetheart, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

Stephie sighs impatiently, “we’re going to Miss Buecks, Mama. We can’t just make this decision without her,” she continues matter-of-factly, “we have to tell her.”

“Tell her what Stephie?” Azzi laughs as she finally lets her daughter pull her off the bed and start dragging her out the door.

“We have to tell her that she’s family and we have to tell her that we want to keep her forever.”

***

They’re about halfway down the stairs when Azzi begins to hear the whispered hissing of an argument between Paige and Drew going on in the kitchen and she feels dread wrap itself around her whole body. It doesn’t take a genius to gauge that it’s likely about her -more specifically about her and Paige’s relationship- and suddenly it feels like something dark has been cast all over her, stomping out the brightness that she’d felt just mere moments ago.

Azzi hesitates on the last few steps, causing Stephie to impatiently look up at her as she contemplates whether or not to interrupt whatever altercation is going on in the kitchen. For as long as she’d known them, Paige and Drew had never seriously fought but then again, when Azzi had known them, Drew had been a child; a kid who would never have doubted his sister's decision, or Azzi’s for that matter. But the man that had walked into their lives tonight is one that had been witness -perhaps even a victim- to all the terrible decisions the two of them had made in the last eight years. It’s only natural, Azzi thinks, that he’d be wary of their relationship. He’d seen the burn marks that their relationship catching on fire had left on his sister’s skin and it was only natural that he’d blame the woman who’d held the matches.

“Mama,” Stephie presses as she tugs at Azzi’s hand, “come on,” she whines, “I wanna see Miss Buecks.”

“Steph-” Azzi tries to say, her instincts going haywire when she hears Paige’s voice more clearly now -stop it Drew- but then Stephie pulls hard and she’s practically tripping down the rest of the stairs, trying to keep balance as the little girl holding her hand continues to drag her towards the kitchen.

They’re still speaking too quietly for Azzi to pick up exactly what they’re saying but there’s a resigned urgency in Drew’s voice and a fearful sadness in Paige’s that makes bile rise at the back of her throat and suddenly Azzi’s very sure that whatever this conversation is, she really doesn’t want to hear it. But her feet keep moving, letting Stephie lead the way as the claws of it takes a second for everything to fall apart sink into her heart.

“-there’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season,” Azzi hears Drew say as they finally reach the kitchen door and she forces Stephie to a halt. Every part of her is screaming to take her daughter and turn away, to not listen to wherever this conversation she clearly wasn’t meant to hear is going.

“I know,” Paige whispers and Azzi’s heart stutters as she takes in the blonde’s red-rimmed eyes as she leans against the table, “I know.”

Azzi opens her mouth, ready to alert the brother-sister duo of their presence but before she can say anything, Drew’s speaking again and as the words roll out of his mouth, Azzi feels her blood run cold.

“Stick to the plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

The plan. Liberty. New York. October.

The words run around in a frenzy through Azzi’s brain creating a mixture of confusion battling with the sense of an unwanted realization that makes her feel dizzy. It’s like someone pricking a needle against the bubble of forever she’d just let herself believe in and there’s a loud pop echoing in her head. The noise hurts. Azzi had known Paige’s contract with GSV was only for a year; she’d even considered -perhaps even expected- that when Paige had signed it, she probably wasn’t planning on staying forever.

But that was then.

Surely things would be different now.

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi’s dragged out of the cacophony of her mind by the sound of her daughter speaking. Stephie’s voice is wracked with fragility as she clings tightly onto her mother’s hand, her face morphed into a combination of betrayal and please tell me i’m wrong as she looks at Paige, whose face has gone ashen at the sight of the two of them standing by the doorway, “you’re moving to New York?”

“Stephie,” Paige whispers, eyes brimming with tears as she falls to her knees in front of the little girl, hand moving to grip her her shoulders, “sweetheart I-”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says again, her usually boisterous tone replaced by a meek, desperate one, “are you going to New York? Are you- are you,” her voice breaks and the next words come out in a barely there whisper, “are you leaving us?”

Say no, Azzi thinks, please say no, say you aren’t leaving, promise you’d never leave. But as she watches Paige open and close her mouth, choking on air as she tries to give an answer, she knows it’s wishful thinking, knows that it’s a promise Paige isn’t going to make.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s voice is shaking, holding back her tears as tight as she’s holding onto the hope that Paige will give her the answer she wants- the answer she needs, “are you leaving us?”

“I-” Paige bites her lip, hands running up and down Stephie’s shoulder and arms, almost like she’s trying to memorize what it feels like to be able to touch her, almost like, she’s not sure when she'll get the chance to have her this close again again, “I don’t- I don’t know sweetheart I-”

It’s the wrong answer and Azzi closes her eyes as Paige cuts herself off with a small gasp of air when Stephie rips herself out of the blonde's grasp

“No,” the little girl says harshly, pushing herself behind her mothers legs.

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says helplessly, looking from the little girl to Azzi.

“No, no, no, no,” Stephie says; each no is louder than the last, “how you don’t know? You’re an ‘dult. ‘Dults are big. They know everything so how you don't know Miss Buecks?”

“It’s not that simple bean-” Paige tries to say, her hands outstretched towards the little girl, fingers clenching and unclenching like they don’t know how to be still unless they’re clasping onto her.

“It is,” Stephie yells, “are you leaving us or not? Yes or no Miss Buecks?”

“I-” the blonde splutters, still unsure of what to say.

“Stephie,” it’s Azzi who cuts Paige off this time, opening her eyes as she bends down in front of her daughter, pulling the little girl into a hug, “baby it’s okay. It’s going to be okay-”

“No it’s not,” Stephie screams as she wrangles herself out of her mother’s grip, the force of it causing Azzi to stumble backwards and something like if you’re going to hold me, hold me forever catches in her throat when Paige instinctively reaches out an arm to wrap around the her waist to keep her steady. The contact makes Azzi shiver and she has to fight the urge to let her shoulders relax, the urge to let herself melt into the warmth that Paige has always exuded. They stare at each other for a second, Azzi trying to drown herself in the ocean blue of the blonde’s eyes as Paige tries to find some semblance of stability to hold onto in the brunette’s earthy ones.

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, that one syllable coated in layers of emotions that Azzi thinks she’d be willing to spend an eternity peeling through if it would bring her one step closer to keeping the woman in front of her from leaving, from going to fucking New York.

“Mama I wanna go home,” Stephie’s adamant voice pierces through the silence and Azzi tears her gaze away from Paige -but not before she can catch a brief glance of the older woman’s face contorting in pain- to look up at her daughter's cloudy face.

“Stephie-bean,” Paige speaks before Azzi can, heartbreak laced in her tone as she practically pleads with the little girl, “sweetheart please-”

“You promised you’d try to stay” Stephie bursts out, big fat tears cascading down her small face, “do you even rem-ber? At Nana and Pops’s house when I was scared you left you promised you’d try. But you’re not- you’re not even trying to stay Miss Buecks,” the little girl accuses, “you- you- you lied to me Miss Buecks.”

“I didn’t Stephie- I didn’t lie-” Paige tries to explain between her own tears and they’re still pressed so close together that Azzi can feel every shake of the older woman’s body against her own, “I didn’t lie sweetheart. I’m still- I’m still trying-”

“You’re not-”

“I am. I am Stephie. It’s just-” Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi who flinches at the unspoken implication, “it’s complicated.”

“Then un-comp-icate it,” Stephie stomps her feet petulantly before a series of heavy sobs wracked her tiny body and she heaves loudly, clutching at her chest.

Concern floods through Azzi’s veins as she shuffles towards her daughter, still on her knees and Paige follows her lead, the two of them inching closer, “Stephie-”

Something shifts as Stephie looks at the two of them through tear-stained eyelashes; the anger and fight slowly dissolving into the air. And then, if possible, her face crumples even more before she’s falling into Paige’s lap, one arm tightly wrapping around the blonde’s neck as her other hand reaches out to grab onto Azzi’s bicep, binding the three of them together in a mess of limbs on the cold kitchen floor.

“Please don’t go Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails as Paige clutches the little girl firmly against her chest, her hands brushing through her dark curls as she tries to comfort her, “please, please, please Miss Buecks I don’t want you to go. Don’t go to New York. Please don’t go. Please stay- stay with me and Mama forever. Please Miss Buecks.”

“Stephie-”

“Please don’t leave us Miss Buecks,” Stephie cries, her breathing unnaturally heavy as she shakes in Paige’s arms and Azzi reaches out a hand to soothe her back, trying and failing to keep her own tears at bay. Azzi’s chest tightens as Stephie continues to babble, begging Paige to stay as the blonde continues to hold her, droplets of water streaming down her face as she gently rocks the little girl back and forth. Because despite the way Paige has practically melded Stephie’s little body into her own, Azzi can see the way that the older woman still can’t seem to say the words that the little girl wants to hear, can’t seem to bring herself to guarantee forever. And it feels like the threads of the dream she’d just started weaving, are slipping out of her fingertips.

Azzi doesn’t know how long they sit there -Stephie still pleading in Paige’s arms and Azzi stroking her back- but eventually her daughter’s words begin to turn into nonsense, her breathing slowly evening out until there’s nothing but silence; the gravity of her emotions having lulled her to sleep. The silence is deafening as Azzi tries to figure out what exactly she should do next, take her daughter and run or succumb to that part of herself that wants to follow Stephie’s lead and beg Paige to never leave them. She still doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, what sort of plan Paige has about moving to New York and if she’s honest with herself, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to know; a part of her that wants to go back to ignorant bliss they’d been living in for the last few weeks. But as she stares at the dried tear tracks staining her daughter’s face -that familiar guilt of all we do is hurt the people around us reverberating between her and Paige- Azzi knows there’s no going back.

“We should talk,” Paige says finally, her voice small as she looks at Azzi, “please.”

Azzi swallows as she wipes at her tears, ignoring the way Paige’s eyes trace her fingers, like they wish it was her brushing them away instead. She ignores the part of heart that wants that too, wants Paige’s comfort, just wants Paige.

“Yeah, yeah I guess we should,” she says finally, “but um- I should- um,” she gestures towards Stephie’s sleeping body, “should uh- probably put her to bed first.”

“Right- yeah- yeah of course,” Paige nods awkwardly as Azzi reaches to pry Stephie off of her.

The little girl lets out a low sleepy whine, her hands tightening around Paige’s neck, “no Miss Buecks don’t let me go.”

“Stephie,” Azzi’s heart breaks at the fear etched on her daughter’s face, despite being fast asleep, at the idea of being taken away from her Miss Buecks.

“I’ve got you sweetheart,” Paige whispers softly against the little girl’s hair before looking back at Azzi, her eyes swimming with guilt, “I can- I can take her upstairs.”

A part of Azzi wants to say no, wants to start taking out stitches in the places where Stephie and Paige have already sewn themselves together. There’s a part of her that regrets having ever given them the needle in the first place, a part of her that wishes she’d never let her daughter get so attached, when there were so many uncertainties about the strength of the thread between them.

But instead she says, “fine,” as she follows Paige up the stairs, heart constricting at the softness with which the other woman holds her little girl.

“Put her in one of the guest rooms,” Azzi calls out quietly when Paigs starts to turn into her own room.

The blonde stops in her tracks, turning around to face Azzi and she has to look away when she sees the stricken expression on Paige’s face. They were meant to be having a sleepover. The night was supposed to end with the three of them curled in Paige’s bed, supposedly watching some random movie but in actuality, Stephie would have dosed off in the middle of it and Paige and Azzi, with their hands entwined over the little girl’s body, would have spent the rest of it talking about everything and nothing. That’s how it was meant to go; it was meant to have been just another night like any of the other ones they’d spent together the last couple of weeks. But now that normalcy seems like an out of reach fairytale.

“Az-” Paige tries to argue but there isn’t much fight in it and just the slight defeated shake of Azzi’s head is enough to have the older woman biting her lip and doing as she’s asked.

Azzi hangs back by the doorway as Paige gently places Stephie down on the bed, pulling up the moss green covers over the little girl’s body. It feels wrong, Azzi thinks, as her mind drifts back to a few moments ago when Stephie had been cuddled in Paige’s purple bedsheets; that had felt right, like a place her daughter could truly belong. She shuffles her feet nervously as she watches Paige caress Stephie’s cheeks before pressing her lips against the little girl’s forehead.

“I love you Miss Buecks,” Azzi hears Stephie mutter and she digs her fingernails into her palms.

Paige lets out a quiet whimper, shuddering slightly as she echoes the words back, “I love you more Stephie-bean.”

That should be enough, Azzi thinks, it should be enough that Stephie loves Paige and Paige loves Stephie to keep them together. And it’s not fair that it isn’t but if there’s anyone that knows that sometimes love isn’t quite enough to keep two people together, it’s Azzi. There’s too much there, too much history and she’d been naive to think the past wouldn’t cast a dark shadow on her present.

The walk back downstairs feels like it takes an eternity; like they’re climbing back down from a tall mountain. Azzi walks ahead of Paige and she can feel the blonde’s gaze lingering on her back, can practically feel the tension vibrating off of her body at the prospect of the talk they’re about to have. Drew stands at the bottom of the stairs, nervously pacing with his hands stuffed in his pocket. His eyes move up to meet Azzi’s when she finally reaches the last step and he looks a lot like the little boy who’d once accidentally spilled a glass of water all over one of her favorite books. He has that same guilty look he’d had back then when he’d apologized profusely, swearing he’d save up all his pocket money just to buy her another one.

“I’m sorry,” Drew says in a rush, “I didn’t know you guys were coming back down and I didn’t know Stephie was gonna hear that-any of that. I swear Azzi- you know I wouldn’t have said any of that shit if I knew she was gonna hear-”

“It’s fine Drew,” Azzi reassures him, hesitating slightly before reaching out a hand to gently pat his cheek and she’s relieved when he doesn’t immediately back away, “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Drew lets out a small sigh of relief, “okay good cause I really didn’t. I uh-” his gaze flutters between Paige and Azzi, “I’ll um- I’ll let you guys talk now,” he pauses in front of Paige, who looks about as miserable as Azzi feels, “love you no matter what Paigey,” he whispers before giving her a quick peck on her forehead and squeezing her shoulder.

And then it’s just the two of them and the heavy burden of everything they can no longer ignore.

***

April 2027

Azzi grips the armrest tightly, her eyes screwed shut as the plane shakes rapidly while preparing to land. For someone who’s pretty-well travelled and has dealt with her fair share of turbulent plane rides, Azzi still finds herself going ridgid every time an aircraft she’s on starts getting a little too bumpy. She can practically hear Paige’s teasing voice -even after all this time- calling her a big baby but the blonde would have laced their fingers together anyway, distracted her with some random story and she’d have held on to her hand -no matter how sweaty- until the plane stopped moving.

God, Azzi misses her so fucking much.

But hopefully she won’t have to for much longer. Azzi’s not quite sure what’ll happen after she lands in Dallas, hasn’t -in a very un-Azzi-like step- even really practiced what she wants to say. But, and she knows it’s a little dramatic but she thinks she can probably come up with a mix of apologizing, begging for forgiveness and declaring her undying love that would atleast get Paige to consider giving her another chance.

There’s this hollow ache in her chest that hasn’t gone away for the last two years. And Azzi had tried to ignore it, had tried to shift her focus to everything else -everything good- that was happening in her life. But even after she’d had an All-American last season at UConn, even after she’d let that team to a back-to-back national championship, even after she’d been the first pick of the 2026 draft to GSV, even after she’d won rookie of the year, there was a still lingering pain -a deep rooted sense of something she’d lost- etched through her whole body. The thing is that Azzi knows she can survive -can even succeed- without Paige- but she doesn’t want to. Not anymore.

The decision was a long-time coming, the inevitable leap of faith to chase after what she wanted most in the world. But it had all clicked into place at the most mundane of times. She’d been at the park on her regular morning run and she’d seen a family -two women who’d looked at each other like they’d stop breathing if they looked away and their beautiful baby girl who was happily swinging in between them- and suddenly everything else had felt so insignificant in comparison. She’d been forced to admit the truth she’d been trying so hard to run away from. That was the future Azzi wanted -perhaps not immediately but eventually- and she wanted it with Paige.

Azzi hadn’t let herself overthink it, knowing that if she gave herself enough time, she’d more than likely talk herself out of it. Instead, she’d booked the tickets from San Francisco to Dallas in a rush and then called Ice -the newly anointed Dallas Wing rookie- and it hadn’t taken much to convince her former teammate - who’d all but squealed at the idea of her ‘parents getting back together’- to pick her up from the airport and drive her straight to Paige’s.

“She’s gonna be so happy,” Ice had assured her, “I mean I’ve only been here like a week but I know for sure she misses you Az. Oh my god this is so exciting,” and Azzi had laughed as she’d listened to the sound of her friend giddily clapping, “I’m so excited for the two of you. You belong together.”

A serene smile crosses Azzi’s face, and she knows it must look a little ridiculous just smiling to herself like this, but all she can think about is that she’d be with Paige soon. And she’s not naive enough to think that everything would miraculously be okay; she knows just how deeply her rejection must have pierced into Paige’s soul. But if the other woman gives her the chance, Azzi’s ready to spend an eternity making it up to her.

She sucks in a deep breath as the wheels of the plane collide with the runway, her eyes crinkling slightly as she realizes the weather app had lied to her and instead of the ambient evening she’d expected, it’s torrential downpour outside. In hindsight, maybe that should have been her first sign. But for now, Azzi smiles at the raindrops trickling down the window, clichéd memories of kissing in the rain -”baby come on, it's romantic, who cares if we get sick”- flooding her brain.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. The time outside is currently 7 pm in the evening. We hope you had a good flight and on behalf of Delta Airlines, we wish you a pleasant stay,” the pilot’s voice croons throughout the speakers as Azzi fidgets with her necklace, her last Christmas gift from Paige.

Just a little while longer baby. I’m coming to you. Forever.

***

The nerves she’d kept at bay hit Azzi all at once as soon as she climbs into Ice’s car; the thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong barrage into her mind as she watches the windshield wipers furiously fight against the rain. What if Paige doesn’t wanna see her? What if Paige isn’t willing to give her another chance? What if Paige hates her?

“Dude,” Ice groans, briefly looking away from the road to flick Azzi’s arm, “I can literally hear you thinking. Chill the fuck out!”

“I’m trying,” Azzi whines, leaning her head against the cool window, “Fuck, Ice what if this is the dumbest shit I’ve ever done in my life? What if she sees me and is like ‘what the fuck are you doing here,’ what if she tells me go home? Oh my god Ice why the fuck did you let me do this?”

“Let you?” Ice splutters indignantly, “oh no no no. You are not putting this on me. You didn’t even let me say anything when you called. It was literally ‘hey Ice, I’m coming to Dallas, make sure you pick me up in 6 hours okay thanks’ and next thing I know you’re in Dallas,” the younger girl mimics the phone-call as Azzi continues to groan.

“This is why I leave the spontaneous shit up to Paige,” she says, stressfully rubbing her face.

“Yeah but-” Ice gives her a lopsided grin, her tone softening considerably, “she’s gonna love that you did this for her Az. Trust me dude- the two of you- you’re meant to be. Everyone’s always known that. She’s gonna be so fucking happy to see you.”

“Thank Icey,” Azzi says softly, dragging in another deep breath, “I needed to hear that.”

“Any time Az, any time,” Ice reaches over to squeeze her hand and Azzi finally lets herself relax into her seat.

The rest of the car ride consists of reminiscing their time at UConn -it’s strange to think that they’re both alums now- and Ice telling Azzi stories about her move from Connecticut to Texas. Anticipation builds in Azzi’s stomach as she glances at the GSP, eyes fixating on the ‘3 minutes till your destination’ bubble on the bottom left corner.

Her destination.

Azzi thinks no matter how much she’d tried to fight, no matter how much she’d tried to turn and walk the other way, all roads were always meant to lead here. Paige was always meant to be her final destination. She’s not one for fairytales, doesn’t think life began with once upon a time, but as Ice’s car comes to halt opposite the blonde’s apartment, Azzi hopes that her life has a happily ever after where she and Paige get to write the ending of their stories together.

“We’re here,” Ice says slowly, smiling ear to ear as she turns towards Azzi, “go get your girl.”

“Okay, okay-” Azzi whispers to herself, “you’ve got this Azzi. Just fall to your knees and tell her you’re sorry and that you love her,” she shoves Ice when the younger girl snorts at her little pep talk and then breathes in deeply, “it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got this. I’ve got this!”

“You’ve got this,” Ice affirms, forever a supportive child.

Taking one more breath, Azzi’s just about to step outside, when she sees her. Paige is walking, almost running towards her apartment. Despite the rain, in typical Paige-fashion, the blonde doesn’t have an umbrella. Strands of wet hair are plastered against her forehead and little droplets of rain cascade down her face and neck. Her shirt sticks to her body so that Azzi can see the definition of her abs and the younger woman would love to take a moment to appreciate just how fucking hot Paige looks but instead, her eyes follow the bulge of the blonde’s biceps down to where her hands are interlocked with someone else’s. Someone else who’s not Azzi.

She gasps for air but she swears it’s carbon dioxide that settles in her lungs instead because god, does it burn.

Paige is laughing, eyes twinkling as she and a beautiful woman -a beautiful woman who isn’t Azzi- race to get out of the rain. She hears Ice curse behind her, sounding just as confused as she feels as the two of them watch the scene unfold in front of them, watching Paige and the woman come to halt right in front of the blonde’s apartment building.

“Az maybe we should-”

“Who is that?” Azzi cuts Ice off, her eyes still transfixed on the two smiling women.

Ice sighs, “her name’s Olivia. She’s a reporter for the Dallas Morning News-”

“And who is she to Paige?” Azzi asks bitterly, as if she doesn’t know the answer, as if the way Paige is wrapping an arm around that woman’s waist isn’t enough of an answer in itself.

“I don’t know. Azzi I swear I didn’t know she had a-” Ice hesitates, “she hasn’t told me anything about another woman.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hand tightly gripping the car door she hadn’t even had a chance to open as she watches Paige brush a loose strand of hair out of the woman’s face.

The tip of the dagger pierces against her heart.

The woman smiles at Paige as she wraps her arms around the blonde’s neck and now they’re pressed flush against each other, barely any space between them.

The dagger digs deeper.

Paige caresses the woman’s cheeks.

The dagger twists.

It happens in slow motion; Paige moving ever so slowly as she presses her lips against the woman’s.

And the dagger lodges itself somewhere so deep inside Azzi, she thinks it might be permanently entrenched inside her soul.

It’s funny, Azzi thinks as she watches the two women break apart -their hands intertwining again as they start walking into the apartment- anyone else watching this scene would perhaps think of it as something straight out of a romantic comedy. But to Azzi, it feels like the climax scene of a tragedy.

“Can you take me back to the airport?” she says slowly, still watching Paige’s retreating back.

“What- no Azzi I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ice disagrees immediately, “c’mon we’ll go back to my place and I swear I have some good vodka left over from my housewarming party-”

“Ice please,” Azzi begs, her voice hoarse, “I just wanna go home. Please.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say Azzi,” Ice concedes softly, already starting to pull away from the curb.

“You can’t tell her about this, you know that right?”

“Az-”

“No Ice. She’s moved on and she’s allowed to move on,” the words feel like thorns on the tip of her tongue, “she looks happy. I won’t ruin that. You can’t tell her. You can’t ever tell her.”

“Fine,” Ice nods reluctantly, “I won’t say anything.”

Azzi allows herself one more look back at the apartment, allows herself one more second to dream of Paige running back outside, spotting her and telling her that all of this is just one big misunderstanding, telling her that she hasn’t found someone else, telling her that she’s still Azzi’s. But dreams aren’t reality. No, reality is the fact that Paige looked happy, looked happy with someone that wasn’t Azzi. And even if that damn fucking dagger -sharpened with the image of Paige and someone else- is making her bleed out, Azzi thinks that her heart will still a find way to keep beating, as long as she knows that Paige is happy.

***

The almost two thousand dollar last-minute flight back to San Francisco passes by in a blur. Azzi feels like she’s sleep-walking as she gets into the uber, pressing play on a voice message Ice had left her from after she’d gotten on the plane.

“Azzi please text or call me as soon as you land. I’m really worried about you dude. I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea. I texted Adam after -he’s a team manager that’s really close with Paige- and I guess she and Olivia have been dating since the end of the season last year but Paige is keeping it highkey on the DL like the team barely knows and I swear Az- I didn’t know. Fuck please don’t do anything stupid Azzi. Text me as soon as you hear this and then just- just go home and sleep and call me tomorrow morning. I love you Az, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Since the end of the season, Azzi thinks slowly, her brain still a fuddled mess. That meant that Paige had been with someone for almost eight months. And Azzi knows she has no right to feel this hurt, let alone feel that tiny spark of betrayal that’s lingering underneath it. She’s the one that had let go; it’s only natural that Paige would eventually find someone else to hold on to.

“Where to Miss?” the uber driver asks as Azzi’s typing out a short ‘landed’ text to Ice.

It’s almost two in the morning and sleep prickles against Azzi’s eyes, her body feeling barely functional but the urge to just forget is stronger than the wave of tiredness washing over her body. And so she ignores every good instinct she has and instead of giving the cab drive her home address, Azzi tells him to drive to the nearest bar instead.

It’s a heat-of-the-moment decision -taken as sordid images of Paige wrapped around another woman cloud her ability to think- and she doesn’t know it’s about to change the trajectory of her whole life.

***

May 2033

The silence in the living room is deafening as Paige and Azzi find themselves sitting on opposite sides of the sofa. Azzi’s fingers tap against her thighs; resisting the impulse to reach over and touch the other girl, comfort her and be comforted in return. This night has felt like one of the longest in her life, all the hits falling like dominoes with the two of them at the end of the line. And perhaps it’s the way she’s starting to feel the bruises now as she absorbs everything that’s happened tonight that has her thinking fuck it and turning to Paige with a pleading look on her face.

“Can you just-” Azzi hesitates as she scooches just slightly closer to the other woman who regards the movement with wide eyes, “I know- I know we have to talk and we will but I just- it’s been a long night and I’m just so fucking tired and I just- I miss you-” she says and she’s not sure how it’s possible when Paige has been here the whole night but it’s the truth, “and I just- can you just hold me? Please?”

Paige is so still that for a moment Azzi thinks maybe she’s asked for too much but then the older woman is moving -so fast like she’s scared the brunette will change her mind- and Azzi feels herself being lifted sideways onto Paige’s lap. The blonde’s grip is iron tight as Azzi buries her head into the crevice of her neck, breathing in the smell of all things Paige. She reaches her hand out gently, placing it against the older woman’s chest, trying to stabilize the two of them to the steady beat of Paige’s heart as the other woman rubs her hand up and down Azzi’s back. They stay like that for god knows how long and Azzi wishes she could just keep them like this forever, in each other’s arms.

But they need to talk.

And Azzi reluctantly untangles herself Paige, closing her eyes when the blonde lets out a soft whimper. She doesn’t move all the way to the other end of the sofa this time; choosing instead to sit right next to Paige with their legs pressed togethers and it’s not nearly enough -too little when all she wants is to be consumed by Paige- but at least it’s something.

“I was going to tell you tonight,” Paige starts slowly, “you remember in the car when I said I would explain the whole Angie thing to you, well that- that’s part of this whole mess.”

Azzi furrows her eyebrows, “Angie? What does- what does she have to do with this?”

“I’ll get there okay- just- just let me start from the beginning,” Paige says nervously, “just listen okay.”

Biting her lip, Azzi nods, signaling for the older woman to continue.

“I didn’t want to come to GSV-”

“Because of me?”

Paige sighs, “yes. It- it just- it felt like such a bad idea at the time. You broke my heart Az,” she shoots Azzi an apologetic look when she flinches at the bluntness of it, “and coming here- being around you- I was scared it was gonna be a reminder of that all the time. Every time I’ve seen you these last couple of years Az- it’s hurt. And I just didn’t- I couldn’t live with that every day.”

It’s not something Azzi wants to here but she understands it; she’d felt the exact same way when Colleen had first told her about GSV being interested in Paige.

“But more than anything,” Paige continues, “I was scared that coming here meant giving you a chance to do it again. Because the two of us being together for more than just a fleeting moment- well it felt inevitable that something would happen and I was just so scared that it would be something bad. And so I fought Talia every step of the way until she forced me to come here and I met Stephie,” a soft smile flitters across the blonde’s face, “and she just- she said I’d look good in purple.”

Azzi laughs, “and that’s all it took huh?”

“You know me. A little bit of flattery will get you everywhere,” Paige grins, “but it wasn’t just her,” she nudges Azzi, “it was you. I was so sure you were gonna tell me to turn it down, tell me that there was no way this was gonna work. But you didn’t. You’re always surprising me I guess. Baby you said you wanted me on your team and that was it for me. No matter how much I said I needed time to think or whatever, as soon as you asked me to come here, I knew I was a Valkyrie.”

“I lied to Colleen that it was for the team,” Azzi admits, “think I even lied to myself about it that I wanted you here to help us win a championship. And yeah maybe that was a little bit of it but I just-” she looks down shyly at her lap, “I just wanted you. Here. With me.”

They’re quiet for a little bit, letting their confession dangle in the air until Azzi breaks it, her mind back to focusing on the revelation from before, “I don’t get it then Paige- what was Drew talking about then? What is this whole plan thing with the Liberty? Being in New York by October? I know your contract is for a year but I just-” she shrugs, “I just assumed you were gonna renew with us so where- where does New York even come into play in all of this? I’m just- I’m just so confused.”

Paige chews at her bottom lip and fidgets with her fingers, two tell-tale signs of her nerves as she keep her gaze firmly away from meeting Azzi’s, “I guess- I guess all my fighting against GSV got through to Talia and after I’d made up my mind to sign with the Valkyries, she- she figured out a verbal deal with the Liberty. They didn’t- they didn’t have the money for me this year but next year with Sabrina retiring- next year they will and GSV knew they were gonna get Angie to be their point guard of the future and it all just- it all made sense. I’d stay here for a year, mentor Angie so she could be my replacement for next year and then I’d-”

“Then you’d leave,” Azzi says bitterly and this time it’s Paige who flinches, “but you said- you said Stephie and I convinced you to come here- so- so what? We only convinced you to come for a year?” she asks, her tone sharper than she intended it to be.

“No it wasn’t- it wasn’t like that,” Paige tries to justify, “I just- it scared me how easy it was for me to be convinced. It was one moment with Stephie- one moment with you- and I was ready to make a decision for my future based just off of those two little moments. Do you know how scary that is? And I knew- I knew that coming here- being around the two of you would just- it would make me fall so fucking fast -and it has- and I was just so scared that I’d get my heart broken again and I just- I needed an escape plan.”

“You needed an excuse to leave us,” Azzi says venomously.

“That’s not fair Azzi,” Paige says quietly, “you have to understand how afraid I was of history repeat itself Az,” she reaches for the younger woman’s hand, enveloping it between her own, “when I lost you the first time, I was so fucking broken and it took me so long to fix myself- I- I don’t even know if I did ever fully fix me. You can’t blame me for being scared of having to go through it again.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second before she finally lets out a sigh because Paige is right and she can’t- she won’t hold whatever decision the other woman had made before they’d found their way back to each other, against her.

“Okay. Okay. I- I get it. I get why you were scared. I get why you had a whole backup plan and-,” she grins teasingly at the blonde, “and now I also get why you were such a bitch to Angie.”

Paige laughs a little, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s and closing her eyes, letting themselves melt into a comfortable silence as they bask in each other’s presence and for a moment’s Azzi feels floaty and free until Drew’s words replay themselves inside her head.

“Paige,” she says slowly, earning a little hum of acknowledgement from the other woman, “it’s over now though right? The deal- you- you’re gonna tell the Liberty that it’s off? No more New York right? Not even as an escape plan?”

The blonde stiffens, her eyes opening immediately.

“Paige,” Azzi presses, lifting her forehead so she can study the older woman’s face properly, the false comfort of a few seconds ago being replaced by a leaden pit in her stomach.

“I- I don’t know,” Paige whispers, so quietly that it takes a couple of seconds for Azzi’s ears to even pick it up. But when it does finally register -the repeat of what she’d said to Stephie- it feels like something’s slowly cracking inside Azzi, until the cracks get larger and larger and something shatters, the pieces of it lodging themselves in every organ of her body.

“You don’t-” Azzi swallows, pulling her hands out Paige’s, “you don’t know?”

“Az-”

“No,” Azzi holds her hand out in a stop sign as Paige tries to grab for her, “how- how can you not know,” she keeps speaking even when the blonde tries to reply, “Paige you- you were the one who pushed for this. You were the one who begged- who convinced me to try. Why- why would you do that? What have we been doing for the last few weeks Paige if you’re still thinking about leaving at the end of the season? God Paige- how can you even say that you don’t know?”

“I thought I did,” Paige bumbles out, “these past few weeks have been everything to me Azzi and I thought I knew but tonight- everything Drew said-” she stops suddenly and Azzi knows whatever the young man had said isn't something Paige wants to repeat back to her.

“What did Drew say?”

Paige hesitates, “he thinks you’re gonna break my heart and that I’ll lose you and that I’ll-” she clutches her throat like the next words are physically painful to say, “that I’ll lose Stephie.”

“And you- you think he’s right?”

There’s heartbreak etched all over Paige’s face as she shrugs helplessly, “you’ve done it before Az. You let me go. You- you said no-”

“And you’re one who left,” Azzi bursts out, tears cascading down her face as she rises to her feet.

Paige guffaws up at her, “what?”

“I know I said no but you left literally the next fucking day before I could say anything else. God Paige, I know I fucked up and I know that it’s mainly my fault. Trust me I’ve regretted it every single day,” Azzi sobs, “but you- you left Paige. I know I let you go but you didn’t hold on to me either. You just- you left.”

“Azzi-”

“I understand why you had an escape plan before,” Azzi says, wiping away her tears, “but I can’t be with you if you still have one now. Especially not when Stephie’s involved. She’s already so fucking attached and if you can’t promise not to leave her then I- I can’t let her get anymore attached. I can’t watch my baby girl cry like she did tonight- not again Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again, like it's the only word she knows; the only word that matters.

Azzi falls to her knees in front of the other woman, wrapping her hands around Paige’s tightly wounded fists.

“I get that you’re scared and I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel like heartbreak is inevitable with me,” she presses a kiss against the blonde’s knuckles, “but Paige I- I can’t- live like this, I can’t live knowing that you could leave me -leave us- any second. I need you to trust me, I need you to believe in us and I need you to tell me you’ll stay. And if you can’t do that then-”

“Please don’t say it,” Paige breathes out, her shoulders radiating with tension.

Azzi stands back up slowly, delicately placing her lips against the older woman’s forehead. She feels Paige shudder under her touch as she tries to put every little bit of emotion, every little bit of please choose me, please choose us, please choose to stay, into that kiss.

“Just- just think about it- sleep on it I guess. Take your time Paige but I- I need more than ‘I don’t know’ as an answer,” she says finally, the words lingering between them as she brushes away a couple of strands of the blonde’s hair before letting out a sigh as she puts some space between them, “I should go.”

Paige’s fingers immediately wrap around her wrist as the other woman blinks up at Azzi with pleading eyes, “don’t go-”

“Paige-”

“It’s late. Stephie’s asleep. Just- just stay.”

You stay, Azzi wants to scream because how can Paige ask her to do the one thing that the older woman herself is scared to do. But she’s exhausted and driving home -to a house that’s entrenched with the memories of the last few weeks but wouldn’t have Paige in it- sounds like something dreadful. And so she nods, shooting Paige another longing look before she heads towards the staircase.

“Az,” she hears the other woman call out just as she’s about to climb onto the first step, making her stop and turn her head over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You know right? You know that- that I-” Paige gulps, “you know that I lo-”

“No,” Azzi says immediately, shaking her head rapidly, “say it to me when you can tell me you’ll stay.”

***

May 2027

Azzi taps her foot incessantly against the hardwood floor as her gaze nervously flitters towards the front of the restaurant, where a man in a light blue polo shirt and dark jeans has just walked in, his own eyes scanning the premises in search of someone. She has the ridiculous urge to shrink in her seat, to hide away from his wandering eyesight as if he’s not the reason she’s here in the first place. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten Mississippis, Azzi finally raises her hand, trying to wave him over.

“Tristan,” she calls out, attempting to arrange her features into a smile to match his when the man in question finally spots her.

“Hey,” Tristan choruses, his eyes twinkling as he slips into the seat opposite Azzi, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda shocked you called. Not that I’m not happy- I mean, who wouldn’t be happy if a pretty girl called but I- I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Azzi tries to give him a humorous grin, “so you just gave me your number expecting nothing?”

She’s trying to make a joke but it comes out flat and she hopes he can’t read just how uncomfortable she is; won’t call her out for the uneasiness that she knows is radiating off of her.

“Expecting? No. Hoping? Definitely,” Tristan smirks and Azzi’s reminded of the charm he’d exuded that night in the bar.

The memory makes her want to throw up- well she supposes it’s probably not just the memory but also her little situation. She regards the man in front of her warily; he’s not bad to look at and at first glance he doesn’t exude any major red flags. And she’s almost ready to give her way-too-fucking-drunk past self a pat on the back because she'd made multiple dumb-as-fuck decisions that night -exhibit a: fucking a random stranger in a bar while mourning her ex- but at least she’d had the sense not to choose a complete psychopath.

“Well I called,” she announces awkwardly.

Tristan raises an eyebrow, “it’s been a whole month.”

Azzi bites her lip, “better late than never?”

The man in front of her snorts, “I suppose so but honestly I wasn’t expecting you to call at all. I mean- I figured you’d have gotten back together with your ex.”

That causes Azzi to suck in a sharp breath, her fingers digging crescent shaped scars into her palms.

“I mean,” Tristan continues, oblivious to the way his words cut into the woman in front of him, “you just- you sounded like you really loved her and the way you talked about your relationship- it just- it sounded so perfect and I know I don’t know her and I know- I know you mentioned she was seeing someone else but you just- your relationship like- that shit sounded unbeatable and so I just- I guess I just assumed that if you wanted her back- she’d want you back-”

“She’s engaged,” Azzi says loudly and it would be comical how quickly that shuts Tristan up if it wasn’t for the fact that saying those words out loud, feels like shooting an arrow into her own heart. She can still see the engagement announcement floating behind her eyes; can still so clearly see the pictures of Paige down on one knee for a woman who was beaming down at her, for someone who had said yes.

“Oh,” Tristan’s saved from having to say anything more when the waiter appears with a menu.

“What can I get you guys today?” the waitress asks cheerfully.

“Just the salmon for me please,” Azzi says, still a little lost in her thoughts.

“And for you sir?” the waitress turns to Tristan after jotting down Azzi’s order.

“I will have the chicken with a waldorf salad on the side but with no nuts please; I’m allergic to most nuts,” Tristan responds politely as the waitress nods and starts to walk away but it’s the last part that perks Azzi’s ears up.

“You’re allergic to nuts? Is that like- is that genetic?” she asks.

Tristan seems a little taken back by her curiosity of his allergy but he nods his head yeah and Azzi pencils that little fact into her brain, figuring it would be an important tidbit to share with her doctor.

“So your ex is engaged,” Tristan repeats, looking apologetic when his bluntness makes Azzi flinch but it’s replaced by a smirk as he lounges back in his seat, “so you called me for what? A rebound? I mean look Az, you’re a gorgeous girl but only being called for a rebound might just give a guy a complex.”

She knows he’s trying to be suave -charming even- but instead all it does is give her the ick and Azzi’s reminded of why she’d avoided men since her mistake of a boyfriend back in her senior year of high school. Hell, she’d only dated him because she and Paige had been trying their hands at another attempt of being just friends and the blonde was dating some pretty girl. But he’d been the first and last man she’d ever been with -which wasn’t surprising considering it had taken her and Paige only a year after to finally get together- until that night at the bar.

Azzi barely remembers anything about that night beyond flashes of memories but she remembers the morning after clearly, remembers the regret that had coiled itself around her ribs. She’d practically run out of the hotel room, barely managing to keep the tears at bay in the back of the uber. She hadn’t even made it to her bedroom, breaking down in the middle of her living room floor as everything that had happened the night before -seeing Paige with someone else, being with someone else- hit her like an avalanche. Azzi doesn’t know how long she’d sat in a sobbing mess on the floor but at some point she must have fallen asleep, because her next memory is Colleen towering over her, a look of pure concern on her bestfriend’s face as she shook her awake. And then she was crying again, this time wrapped in the comfort of Colleen’s arm as she let the regret of all her mistakes -from the past and the present- flow down her cheeks.

All she’d wanted after, was to just forget about the night -forget the image of Paige kissing a stranger, forget the image of herself walking up next to a stranger- and for a little while, the world had even granted her that wish. That was until a mandatory pre-season checkup had given her news that would make sure she’d never forget that night.

“Azzi?” Tristan clicks his fingers in front of her face to get her attention, “you still with me?”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to come back to reality instead of staying lost in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she finally puts into words the truth that has become the epicenter of her world.

“I’m pregnant.”

Tristan stares at her with a shell-shocked look on his face, his eyes unblinking and wide as his mouth slowly morphs into a ‘O’ shape, “you’re- you’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Azzi nods, her tone shifting from nervous into something more businesslike, “and before you ask, yes it’s definitely yours. But you don’t have to feel pressured to be involved beyond whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m more than financially capable of taking care of a child by myself and I’m very lucky to have a great support system in my friends and family so I’m not depending on you for any-”

“You’re keeping it?” Tristan cuts her off, sounding almost disbelieving that, that was the choice she was making.

Azzi stops at his words, tongue darting out to wet her lips. She’d gone back and forth with the decision from the minute she’d found out. Most of the factors in Azzi’s life pointed towards an abortion being the best thing for her. She was an athlete at the beginning of the peak of her career and she was only 25 years old, a young adult who’d just started this journey of life. For all her responsibleness, Azzi was still figuring out how to take care of herself. How could she possibly take care of a baby?

She’d been just about to call Dr. Myers when instead her phone had opened to the instagram app; Paige’s engagement announcement the first thing on her feed.

There’d been a thousand and one emotions that burst through Azzi but she’d fixated specifically one of them; loneliness. It was a ridiculous thing to feel for a girl whose family had moved across the country for her; whose best friend had become her manager and followed her to a brand new state. But Azzi felt it every time she was alone, sometimes even when she was surrounded by hundreds of people. She was so fucking lonely.

And that’s when she’d decided she wanted this baby, a baby she could love and a baby who’d love her back, a baby who would fill this aching whole in her heart. A baby that would be hers.

Azzi would never be lonely again.

“Yes,” she answers Tristan’s question without a hint of hesitation, “I’m keeping the baby.”

“Wow- okay- this is- sorry,” Tristan shakes his head, his previous casual demeanour having changed to something far more rigid, “this is just- it’s a lot to process.”

“I understand,” Azzi says gently, “take your time.”

Tristant stares down at the table for what feels like an eternity and when he looks up, well, Azzi doesn’t really know the man in front of her at all- hasn’t even had the chance to ask him his last name, but she knows what the guilt in his eyes means. She remembers seeing it when she’d met her own biological father, only once, only for an hour and never again but a snapshot of it has been saved to her brain ever since.

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up from the table, “I can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a father. I can’t have a baby. Fuck me. I’m barely an adult. I can’t take care of a child. I’m sorry, I just- I can’t.”

“I understand,” Azzi replies clinically even though her stomach lurches a little at the rejection, at the realization that her child would grow up with the ever-present question of why didn’t he stay, just like she had.

Azzi hadn’t called Tristan for lunch with the intent of getting anything out of it. The plan had simply been to do her due diligence by telling the father of her child that she was pregnant. After that, the decision would be in his hands and she’d made peace with the fact this -what had just happened- could be one of the outcomes. She hadn’t come here under the guise of reconnecting, finding a husband or any of that, not when, even thinking of any of that -despite the fact that Paige is engaged to someone else- feels a little bit like cheating. But Tristan's response still stings.

Because he might not have been her first option to raise a child with-really she’d only ever wanted any of that with one person- but Azzi thinks if he’d wanted to try, she would’ve liked having a partner to watch her child grow up with

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really, really sorry,” Tristan repeats again as he starts to back away, “I wish you-” his eyes flicker down to her stomach, “I wish both of you the best.”

Azzi nods, “thank you,” and the words of gratitude are for a little more than just his best wishes.

Tristan pauses for one second, hesitating as he looks at Azzi's belly one more time with an indecipherable emotion in his eyes, something a little like regret. But it’s not enough to make him stay and Azzi watches, with a hand on her stomach, as he turns walks out of the restaurant. Through the window, she watches him walking down the street, getting smaller and smaller until he rounds the curb, disappearing out of sight. And Azzi lets out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.

“Oh,” her head snaps towards the waitress, who’s carrying two plates of food and looking awkwardly at Tristan’s abandoned seat, “your uh- your friend- where is he?”

“He’s gone,” Azzi says quietly.

“Is he coming back?”

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, “no, I don’t think he is.”

***

May 2033

The memory burns against the back of Azzi’s eyelids as she lies, wide awake, in Paige’s guest room with Stephie tightly snuggled against her chest. She’s not sure what exactly had triggered the memory because honestly, she doesn’t think about Stephie’s father -her sperm donor to be more accurate- that often. He’d existed for a mere second in the clock of her life, disappearing almost as fast as he’d appeared. But there’s a part of Azzi that will always be thankful to him, because he’s part of the reason she has this beautiful little girl who’s sleeping in her arms.

A little girl who she loves and who loves her back, a little girl who’d filled the aching hole in her heart. A little girl, that was hers.

And Azzi hasn’t been lonely ever since she’d been handed her little girl.

Until tonight.

Her eyes drift to the other side of the bed and she can’t help but focus on just how empty it looks, can help but be immersed in the feeling of something’s missing. It’s the first night in weeks that the other side of the bed isn’t filled and everything about it feels so fucking wrong. Azzi sighs, resting her cheek on Stephie’s head as she rubs her hand up and down the little girl’s shoulder. She can’t sleep and she knows -by the little telltale frown on her daughter’s face- that the little girl might be asleep, but it’s the kind that’s deeply troubled.

She’s just about to close her eyes for another unsuccessful attempt at letting her exhaustion lull her into a slumber, when she hears the sound of footsteps right outside her door. Azzi rises up slowly, gently disentangling herself from Stephie as she squints through the little gap between the door and the floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know who it is and Azzi’s heart thumps anticipation as she watches the shadow of feet pacing back and forth. Suddenly they disappear and disappointment -even it’s ridiculous to feel it after the events of the night- courses through Azzi. Sighing to herself again, she lays back down, closing her eyes.

A minute later they shoot open at the sound of the door being pushed and Azzi sits back up again, something like relief -something like i’m so glad you’re here, i'm so glad you came back please don’t ever go again- rushing into her veins. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the sight of the figure in the dark but once they do, Paige is practically illuminated by the moonlight streaking through the windows. The blonde looks at her, not a speckle of shock at the fact that she’s awake because Paige knows her, knows her the way Azzi had known Paige was awake too, knows that they’d never been particularly good at falling asleep after an argument.

“Can’t sleep,” Paige admits out loud in a whisper, nervously shuffling her feet by the doorway.

“Me neither,” Azzi confesses, her hands brushing through Stephie’s hair.

Their revelations -and the i can’t sleep because i can’t sleep without you hidden behind them- hang in the air, waiting for the two of them to say anything else as they stare at each other in the dark room.

Paige speaks first, stumbling towards the bed, “can I just-”

“Yes,” Azzi breathes out before the question’s even finished, “please.”

Despite the urgency in their words, Paige is slow, climbing into bed, like she’s waiting for Azzi to take it back. The blonde slips underneath the covers, her hands immediately moving to rub Stephie’s back where they collide against Azzi’s fingers and that lightest bit of contact elicits a breathy gasp from both of them. There’s so much still left to say, so much still left to fix, so much they’re not sure can be fixed, but as Azzi slowly lies back down, her fingers interlocking with Paige’s over Stephie’s tiny body, she thinks that she might not survive, if these fleeting moments don’t lead to forever.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

360 notes · View notes