#return of my normal was hard won

[frudoo]

Slasher 141 again, how would they meet their wife? Victim turned pet? Or did she meet them 'normally', or heat me out! An online forum about killers, turned meeting to 'discuss favorites', turned demonstration? Of course, either way, she's theirs now.

I enjoy this au very much sorry 😅

A trivia date night with Johnny turns into something more ;)

Warnings: Dark stuff, obviously (murder, cold cases, etc). Food + alcohol consumption. Fem!Reader.

Sudsnblood: Here. WBU?

     You: I see a mohawk, that you?

     Sudsnblood: Aye.

     Excitedly, you smooth out your dress and make your way over to the man in the corner who’s giving you a little wave. Is it stupid, agreeing to meet with an odd stranger you’ve been bonding with on the internet over fictional killers and real, gruesome murders? Absolutely. Do you care? Absolutely not. After all, he is local, and the pub is having a trivia night with a category both of you are experts in: cold cases. Not to mention how much more handsome he is in person.

     “Hey,” you grin, reaching over the table to place your hand in his and shake it politely.

     Johnny returns your greeting with a charming smile and a confirmation of your name. He only lets go once you’ve nodded, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. 

     “Ah havenae ordered anythin’ yet,” he informs you, pushing a menu your way. “Figured ah’ll get wha’ ye do.” 

     “Mm, got a copycat on my hands, huh?” You tease, catching his eye contact momentarily before moving your gaze back to the list of appetizers. 

     “Ah’m no’ a copycat, ah assure ye,” he grabs the top of your menu and pushes it down to the table so you’ll look at him again. 

     His expression is so serious, leaving no room for confusion or doubt in your mind. You raise an eyebrow and nod slowly. 

     “Got it. What do you think about potato skins for an app?” 

     Trivia takes about two hours, and of course, the two of you won against six other tables who did not have quite the extensive knowledge you and Johnny share. You’re two beers deep and he’s got one more on you, tipsy and flirty.

     “Ah’m gonna call one o’me partners tae come get us,” Johnny explains, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you outside the front of the building to wait with him.

     You nod and he pulls a cigarette out of the carton in his pocket, lighting it up and handing it to you. You take a drag while he talks on the phone—to a Simon, you observe—exhaling slowly and watching as the smoke crystallizes in the cold winter air. He’s only on the phone for a few moments before he’s asking for his cig back, blowing the smoke away from you.

     “D’ye trust me?” He asks after a while of silence.

     You nod once again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Johnny drops the butt of the cigarette on the ground and snuffs it out with the toe of his boot, leaning in until the warmth of his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up all over your body, and you shiver, grabbing a hold of his firm biceps through his leather jacket.

     “Wha’ if ah told ye ah’m one o’the killers they were askin ‘bout?” He murmurs into your ear.

     You pull back with an amused grin, expecting him to have a matching expression, laugh and tell you he’s joking. But when you meet his eyes, he’s deadly serious. There’s no hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, just a deadpan gaze that scans along your face, watching for a reaction. Your smile drops and you swallow hard, your breathing rapidly speeding up.

     “I’d say that I believe you, and it doesn’t change my feelings towards you.”

     “Ye’re gonna get along jus’ fine,” Johnny finally smiles, wide enough for an average person to feel a sense of unease, but to you, it just adds to his charm. 

     By the time Simon arrives, Johnny’s got you pinned against the wall with his hands full of your soft tits and his tongue down your throat. Simon chuckles and honks the horn of his truck to alert you both of his presence, giving you a nod of acknowledgement as Johnny hustles you into the backseat with him. 

     “She know?”

     “Aye, she does.”

     Simon nods, adjusting the rear-view mirror so that he can see the two of you better.

     “Good.”

[nanamis-bigtie]

pina colada

↬ gojo x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), piv sex, aphrodisiacs, unrealistic sex, creampie (like...a lot of it), belly bulge, reader is implied to be much smaller than gojo, dumbification if you squint, slight degradation (reader is called a slut), a little of breeding talk (in a very feral meaning of it), gojo is a little fucked up (was he ever normal tho), top & dom gojo summary: this was supposed to be a chill leave but satoru wouldn't be himself, if he didn't make things…complicated. and horny. word count: 1.6k a/n: i won against anxiety! this text is...not exactly what i aimed for when preparing the prompt but i'm pretty satisfied with the result. feral gojo my beloved tag list: @thesacredfanfics

You've imagined your first retirement trip quite...different. 

Taking it easy was the motto you both intended to uphold. You deserved it after the absolute hell of the last two years and an additional few months of convincing Satoru that he really needed to step down and leave everything to others. His body and soul and your relationship needed a breather, nothing but sweet laziness in a luxury hotel on Bali, away from Japan, away from sorcery, away from Gojo clan relentlessly rushing you two to settle down and marry, as if the old schemes still had any meaning in the new world. 

No, his phone got turned off right on Tokyo Narita and hidden in your pocket, you left your laptops behind and locked away, your number was entrusted only to a handful of people and instructed to be used in case of an extreme emergency. You agreed for it together, this peculiar isolation from the world the only way you could properly rest through the month to come. For the whole of October, you belonged only to each other, to tropical beaches, local cuisine, parties in expensive clubs, and your spacious bedroom with a sinfully comfortable California king sized bed, just perfect to finally sate your libido.

But Satoru wouldn't be himself if he hadn't stepped into an affair right on the first day anyway, even before you managed to unpack all the bags. He made a local curse user run for their life, more bored than anything, and returned with a small bottle of...something he confiscated.

You still taste its flavor at the back of your throat, sweet and tart at the same time, like pina colada made by an unskilled bartender with a little too much cheap rum. It was thick and rather hard to swallow, its consistency nothing like any other drink you had tried so far, and it pricked your tongue with that characteristic tinge of cursed energy. This aphrodisiac was surely infused with some kind of cursed object, maybe a product of someone's cursed technique, and as under any other circumstance you wouldn't be eager to try it just like that, when Satoru already swallowed his half, you just followed suit. 

The party mood was definitely to blame, music was still buzzing in your blood as you were grinding against his lap and chasing his lips. The bottle was in his pocket, and you were the one who pulled it out, its shape climbing into your thigh uncomfortably. Satoru had already forgotten about its existence, but he immediately recognized his trophy and uncorked it before you could say anything.

And since then, the matters escalated...quickly.

Thighs flush to his hips, you ride him without cease. You've lost feeling in your calves a long time ago and your knees scream for mercy—yet, you don't stop, fearing that the flame burning deep in your cunt would swallow you whole as soon as you take a breather. Up and down, you swallow him over and over again, his cum pouring out of your abused hole and pooling at the base of his cock. You've lost count of how many times he's finished in you already, yet of your own orgasms, but you know you've reached every physical limit of your body. Aphrodisiac running in your veins has you pushing them relentlessly, somehow forcing exhaustion and pain out of your comprehension. There's only lust and warmth of his length, filling you to the brim and, somehow, still pressing deeper and deeper, seeking new crevices to be filled with his seed.

Satoru underneath is a mess too, sweaty, shaking and whining. His skin is flushed, be it fever of the moment or the sunset soaking you both in pink light, exposing scars scattered all over his torso, arms, and face. Moisture slips his blindfold down; beadily blue gaze runs you through as it skims along your body bouncing on top of his. He's lost the famous Six Eyes, a sacrifice made by a binding vow to let him survive, but at that very moment you feel as if it's never been gone. You recognize this intensity, your body and mind respond to it instinctively—the absolute submission and trust only Satoru has ever been able to elicit from you.

"Kiss me," he demands, voice breaking in need, and fills you up yet again as soon as your lips brush his. His hot seed flows inside you, you can feel its pressure against your cervix and another ounce of older loads slipping out of your hole. It's such a waste but you can't help it, you can hold inside only as much, and he's still determined to somehow overflow you from the entrance to your womb.

You've never experienced sex with this intensity. Aphrodisiac sharpens your senses thoroughly, you're feeling him with parts of your body you've never thought that they're capable of ever feeling. Every twitch of his length thumps through your body, every new spasm of incoming high has your cunt clench tight around him, trying to desperately swallow everything he's offering, maybe this time it can be savored whole, maybe this time you can expand your limits and let him breed you straight into your core.

Lustful poison wants you to continue beyond breaking but your body starts giving up, your legs too jelly to handle your weight any more. Your rhythm starts faltering, you lean forwards in a desperate attempt to help yourself with your arms, your hands only slipping off his sweaty chest.

"I can't," you sob, yourself not sure if in exhaustion or immense need for more.

"Yes, you can." Heels digging in the mattress, Satoru lifts his hips and bounces you himself. "C'mon, pretty thing, just one more time? I know you want it badly ."

His fingers sink in your skin, bruise your hips yet again as he's rutting into you without a break. He has you creaming around his cock again, gushing your juices and his cum alike. Eyes fixed on your fluttering lips, he tries to shake the sweat-soaked blindfold of his face. You want to help, only to lose fragile balance and to almost slip off him and his greedy embrace.

"Hey," he groans, his voice dropping so low it doesn't sound like his anymore. "Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you're going?"

Satoru rocks himself forwards, having you on your back just for a moment enough to slip out of you and turn you around, face shoved into pillows and your hips yanked up. He gathers the mess leaking out of you with the tip of his cock, then finds your entrance with one, rough thrust.

The sound you make doesn't sound human anymore. He's reached the depth he has never before, maybe even indeed somehow pushed himself past your cervix. Without the help of the aphrodisiac, you could have been in immense pain—but now, you're only clawing sheets and trying to meet his moves halfway, craving every inch of his thick cock drilling into you. You want more , you want to be bred until even your womb is filled to the brim and bulging your tum.

One hand pressed tight to your abdomen, undeniably trying to feel himself moving in you, Satoru keeps holding you down by neck. With a corner of your eye, you can spot his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, his face on the brink of losing his humanity, too. There's nothing left of tenderness he's always had reserved when looking at you; there's only lust and blind chase for release and sadistic satisfaction wincing his expression whenever your mewls grow more hoarse and desperate.

His thrusts relentlessly push you towards the edge of bed; you're not able to hold yourself against them and his hold is not enough to keep you in place. Satoru's hand sneaks from the nape of your neck to your throat and pulls you towards him, until you're kneeling, your back flush to his torso. The mirror is filled with you both now, the sight of the size difference between you two alone almost having you cream on his cock again. He's watching too, his gaze fixed once on your face, once on your union and your belly really bulging in the shape of his cock, his moves calming down just enough to focus on dragging new views and reactions out of you.

"You look like a slut." He laughs, the sound suiting more a demon than your caring and always a little pathetic partner, and slides his long fingers into your mouth. You're drooling around them, choking, your own fingers scratching his wrist, yourself not sure if to pull him out—or quite contrary, make him torture you even more. 

You're both losing your sanity with each passing second, the poison in your veins only growing stronger the more you succumb to the lust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you cum again, the spasm of your cunt almost painful, and your legs give in, your body now limp in his hold. Satoru clicks his tongue, lets you melt just enough to hook arms under your knees and yank you up. His hands are at the back of your neck again, eventually locking you in a full nelson hold, absolutely helpless and left on his mercy.

When you regain your sight, you're staring straight at your body wide open, your cunt stretched by his twitching cock and gushing his cum.

"C'mon, pretty thing, don't pass out on me here." He sinks teeth in your neck, hard, as if trying to tear a piece of flesh out of you. "It's not even dark yet."

[seancurry1]

Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020. 

And you are a barnacle. 

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle. 

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started. 

All of that is true. 

And you are still a barnacle. 

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead. 

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry! 

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do. 

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect. 

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today. 

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel! 

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.) 

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do. 

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for. 

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket. 

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.) 

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching. 

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker. 

You are a barnacle. 

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

[hiitsm]

All I want is to have some Peace, with You.

You find yourself wrestling with recurring negative flashbacks from your childhood, unsure how to broach the subject with your girlfriend, consumed by fear of her reaction.

All I want is to have some Peace, with You is for 18+ only.

PTSD, Childhood trauma, Smut, Fluff

-

Important note:

This piece is deeply personal to me, drawn from my own journey through PTSD. It's important to note that everyone's experience with PTSD is unique; what I've shared here is just one perspective.

I'm incredibly proud of everyone navigating their own path through this journey, no matter where they are along the way. And want to give a shoutout to those who support their loved ones through it all-it means more than words can say.

Sharing this piece is a vulnerable step for me, so I ask that we all approach it with kindness, no matter our thoughts or opinions.

-

Just before you met your girlfriend, you were exhausted. Your body constantly felt tired, and you couldn't quite figure out why. The doctor advised you to wait and see if things worsened, suggesting you return if they did. Although it didn't worsen, your body remained tense all the time, draining your energy.

To you, life felt monotonous. You woke up, had breakfast, went to work, and often conversed with your parents, where your mother would eventually get upset over something small you did or said. Then you'd have dinner and go to bed.

It was the same routine, week after week. Despite this routine, you couldn't understand why your body constantly felt on edge, always tense and drained of energy.

Then you met your girlfriend. One rare evening, you decided to go to a bar in the center of Barcelona, and she happened to be there. She offered you a drink, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. You couldn't quite grasp how such a beautiful girl would notice you, let alone want to talk with you.

Your body completely relaxed when you talked with her. Every time she chuckled while sharing a childhood story, you felt at ease without realizing it. You were so captivated that you didn't notice how much your body was unwinding, as if to say that everything would be okay, even though you weren't sure what "okay" was anymore. You had become so accustomed to the tension that it felt normal, which is why you didn't recognize the change.

When you went home that night, you couldn't help but feel light. For the first time, life seemed to have more purpose, all because of her. She was intoxicating in the best way possible. The conversation had been wonderful, and she looked so beautiful. You exchanged phone numbers, and just as you were lying in bed, she texted you. That's when you realized she was one of the greatest footballers of all time: Alexia Putellas. But you didn't care about her awards, even though they were quite impressive. You cared about her as a person and were so glad you got to know her without any preconceived notions.

Your first date together came swiftly. Despite not consciously noticing the change in your body when you were with her, whether in person or talking on the phone, one thing was unmistakable: she made you feel cared for and loved, and you reciprocated with the same warmth. You made an effort to support her during her matches, even though the loud environment and crowds weren't really your thing.

After a particularly hard-won victory for her team, Alexia invited you to dinner at her mother's place to meet her and her sister. Nervous as you were, you couldn't say no.

That's when you finally noticed a change in your body, but it wasn't the positive relaxation you felt when you were with your girlfriend; this change was unexpected and negative. One moment, you were holding your girlfriend's hand under the table, laughing at something her kind mother had said, and the next, you accidentally knocked over a glass, causing it to shatter on the ground. Alexia's family reacted warmly and kindly, reassuring you that they had plenty more glasses, but you couldn't hear them over the ringing in your ears and the racing of your heart.

Suddenly, a flashback hit you. A memory of your younger self, maybe around eight years old, dropping a glass and your mother reacting with intense upset, even physical punishment. You had buried that memory deep within, but now it resurfaced with startling clarity. You found yourself in shock, unable to even apologize to Eli before Alexia squeezed your hand under the table, grounding you instinctively. Eli was kind and forgiving, but the tension in your body remained.

Despite Alexia's loving gestures and efforts to ease your discomfort, the tension persisted throughout the dinner.

As days passed, you found yourself struggling with daily tasks more than usual. Simple things like focusing at work or even enjoying a meal became daunting. The tension in your body seemed to escalate, and more flashbacks from your childhood would unexpectedly flood your mind.

You hadn't yet spoken to Alexia about what was happening. In truth, you didn't fully understand it yourself. The memories that resurfaced were fragments of a past you had buried deep, and confronting them felt overwhelming.

One evening, when Alexia came over to your apartment she noticed that you hadn't done the things you normally would have. The dishes were piled up, and the laundry was untouched. She could see that something wasn't right.

You had experienced more vivid flashbacks of your mother physically hurting you in the past, but when Alexia asked if you were okay, you hesitated. Instead of sharing the truth, you told her you were feeling sick. Without a moment's hesitation, Alexia took charge, helping you into bed and preparing homemade soup to comfort you.

As she sat by your side, her concern was palpable. When she gently inquired about your parents, your body tensed involuntarily. You had been avoiding your parents for a while now, a fact she wasn't aware of. Once again, you chose to lie, deflecting her concern with a half-truth.

The next day, as Alexia headed off to training and you had a rare morning off, you found yourself overwhelmed with emotions. But amidst the turmoil, the strongest feeling was guilt. Guilt over lying to your girlfriend. It wasn't about the physical pain you had endured in the past, nor the mental scars left by your parents' admonitions to keep quiet about it. No, what weighed heaviest on your mind was deceiving Alexia.

You spent the morning wrestling with your thoughts, debating whether to confide in her. Would she stay if you told her the truth? You couldn't bear the thought of losing her. The fear of her rejection paralyzed you, yet the burden of keeping these secrets from her felt increasingly heavy.

Throughout the day, memories resurfaced, each one a testament to the walls you had built around your past. But Alexia had breached those walls with her kindness and genuine concern. As you recalled her comforting presence and unwavering support, a flicker of hope emerged. The hope that she might understand, that she might stay.

But it wasn't easy. Every time you tried to open up, the words faltered. You could see the concern in your girlfriend's eyes, her worry for you evident even though she didn't fully understand the source. Her deep love for you acted as a balm, soothing many wounds, but in her absence, the shadows returned.

When she wasn't around, the flashbacks intensified. The memories you had buried resurfaced with a vengeance, overwhelming you with panic attacks. The tight knot in your throat, the trembling in your legs, the waves of nausea, they all surfaced when she wasn't there to anchor you.

It took time for these panic attacks to manifest fully, but now they were a part of your reality. They reminded you of the unresolved pain and fear that lingered beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged and healed.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and self-blame. Here you were, a grown adult, yet unable to carry on with your day when the flashbacks hit. You questioned yourself relentlessly. Why couldn't you move past the memories of your childhood? There were surely others who had been through worse. Why did these emotions surface now, when you had found happiness with your girlfriend by your side?

These thoughts stirred a mix of emotions within you. Anger, confusion, and a deep-seated sense of inadequacy. You berated yourself for being so emotional, for letting these past experiences affect your present life. In response, you pushed your emotions down once again, burying them beneath a facade of composure.

Whenever you felt overwhelmed by negative emotions, you found solace in kissing your girlfriend. Her kisses had a way of making your mind go pleasantly fuzzy, and you knew they had the same effect on her. It wasn't necessarily the most practical solution, but it worked, if only for a fleeting moment.

You would kiss her softly, savoring the sensation of her lips against yours, a reminder of the love you felt. Every time of day, you couldn't help but tell her how beautiful she looked, still amazed that such a radiant woman had chosen to be with you. Your kisses lingered, slowly exploring each other, shedding any barriers between you.

You would gently undress her, admiring her soft, full form, and your hands found their way to her curves, losing yourself in the pleasure of her touch and the sweet sound of her moans. With tender care, you would lift her, laying her down on the bed, whispering words of love and admiration, reaffirming how much she meant to you.

As you kissed your way down her body, you would marvel at her beauty, taking in the sight of her soft arousal. You circled her clit with gentle pressure, lost together in the waves of pleasure. Making love to her was a slow, deliberate act, a tribute to her kindness and support, unaware of how deeply she touched your heart and healed your soul.

Until one night, your mind was besieged by flashbacks, but you refrained from seeking solace in kisses because you respected her need for rest, always mindful of her boundaries. As you grappled with your thoughts alone, you recognized that continuing this way wasn't sustainable, prompting you to take action.

Sleep had become elusive, and after a particularly taxing day, you pushed yourself to seek help. The journey led to an unexpected diagnosis of PTSD, a revelation that caught you off guard. To you, the symptoms had felt like a part of daily life, a burden you had unknowingly carried for so long.

You lay on your side, your back turned towards your girlfriend, feeling the weight of tension in your body and the ceaseless churn of thoughts in your mind. It was important to you that she got the rest she deserved after a challenging game. Meanwhile, she lay on her back beside you, still wide awake, sensing the emotional distance between you both.

You knew she was overthinking it, and despite your efforts to suppress it, the need to unburden yourself grew stronger. "Amor," you whispered softly into the quiet of the room. Before she could respond, you found yourself blurting out, "I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you'll leave," your voice catching as tears welled up.

Your girlfriend shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you, her front pressing against your back. "I won't leave," she reassured you, her own heart fluttering with anxiety. Her embrace was a testament to her unwavering support, a gentle reminder that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.

You broke down in tears, turning to bury your face in her neck, unable to stop sobbing. "I lied to you, and I'm so sorry, but I didn't know how to tell you," you managed to choke out between sobs. Your girlfriend held you tightly, her hand gently running through your hair in a soothing gesture, trying to comfort you through your tears.

"I've been having these flashbacks from my childhood, and my mother wasn't kind," you finally confessed, the words heavy with pain. Her response was a gentle whisper against your ear, "I'm so sorry to hear that, mi amor," her voice filled with compassion, causing another wave of tears to escape you. "I didn't realize... I had buried it all, but it's all coming back," you hiccuped, the weight of the memories overwhelming.

"It's coming back, and they says it's PTSD," you admitted, feeling vulnerable yet relieved to finally share this burden with her. She continued to hold you close, recognizing the emotions that had been building up over time. Her presence and understanding were a source of comfort as you let yourself cry in her arms.

"Who says that, mi vida?" she asked softly, her voice free of judgment.

"My therapist," you replied, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. Alexia's response was a gentle sigh of relief upon learning that you had been seeking help from a professional.

"Aren't you mad?" you asked cautiously, uncertain of how she might react.

"I don't understand how it's PTSD," you continued, struggling with the concept because you had always associated PTSD with a single traumatic event.

"It's okay, mi amor," Alexia reassured you tenderly, her voice soothing. "This stems from your childhood, from being in a toxic environment for years. I'm so proud of you for taking this step and seeking the help you deserve from a professional. PTSD is just a diagnosis—it won't define who you are, I promise you that."

After Alexia's reassuring words, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, if only slightly. Her acceptance and understanding were more than you had dared hope for. You turned to face her, eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of disbelief.

"I... I didn't know how you'd react," you admitted quietly, your voice still trembling with vulnerability.

Alexia gently cupped your face in her hands, her touch grounding you in the moment. "Mi amor, I'm here for you. Always," she said earnestly, her eyes reflecting unwavering support.

You leaned into her touch, feeling a rush of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered, overwhelmed by her unconditional love.

"I want to understand," Alexia continued softly, her thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "If you're comfortable, tell me more about what you're going through. I'm here to listen."

You hesitated, grappling with the fear of burdening her with your pain. But her patient gaze encouraged you to share. "It's like... these memories keep coming back, and they feel so real," you began haltingly. "I thought I had buried them, but they're here, haunting me."

Alexia nodded thoughtfully, her expression one of deep empathy. "It must be incredibly difficult," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on your back.

"It is," you admitted, feeling the weight of years of suppressed emotions. "But having you here... it makes a difference. Knowing that I can lean on you."

"You can always lean on me," Alexia affirmed, pulling you into a tender embrace. "We'll face this together, mi amor."

As you rested in her arms, the knot of fear and uncertainty began to loosen. For the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. A sense that with Alexia by your side, you could navigate the stormy seas of your past and find peace.

The therapy sessions had become a regular part of your life, a deliberate effort to untangle the tightly wound threads of your past. Through EMDR, you revisited memories long buried, each session leaving you emotionally drained yet oddly liberated. But it wasn't just the memories that haunted you; it was the residual effects that surfaced unexpectedly.

One evening, as you strolled through a crowded plaza in Barcelona, a sudden movement caught your eye, triggering an involuntary flinch. Alexia noticed immediately, her concern etched on her face.

"It's okay, mi amor," she murmured softly, drawing you closer as you continued walking. "I'm here."

Grateful for her understanding, you nodded. These moments were unpredictable, flinches at sudden movements, a racing heart at unexpected sounds but Alexia's presence was a steady anchor. She knew about the therapy, about the fragments of your past you were piecing together, and she didn't flinch from your moments of vulnerability.

As you settled into a cozy café, Alexia reached across the table, her fingers intertwining with yours. "You're doing so well," she reassured you, her voice unwavering. "Facing all of this takes incredible strength."

You managed a small smile, feeling the weight of her words and the warmth of her touch. With Alexia, there was no need to explain yourself, she understood without words, offering solace in her silent support.

One evening, as you and Alexia were relaxing together at home, she moved suddenly to hand you a book, and you flinched involuntarily. It shocked you because you knew deep down that Alexia would never hurt you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Alexia's heart broke as she immediately took you in her arms, holding you close. "Shh, mi amor," she whispered softly, her voice laced with understanding and concern. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it."

"I just... I just want to have some peace with you," you sobbed, your words choked with emotion. Alexia held you tighter, gently rocking you as you released the pent-up sorrow and fear.

As your tears subsided, Alexia continued to hold you close, her touch a soothing balm to your troubled soul. Feeling a surge of gratitude and love for her unwavering support, you gently pulled back to look into her eyes.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. "For understanding, for being here."

Alexia smiled tenderly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "I love you," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

Moved by her words and overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings, you reached up to cup her face in your hands. "I love you too," you replied softly, your heart swelling with love for this extraordinary woman who had changed your life.

In a spontaneous gesture of affection, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and a promise of healing together. Alexia responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around you as she deepened the kiss, both of you melting into each other's embrace.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

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

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[violetarks]

I read your most recent post and am deeply sorry for this ask..

Could you maybe write chishiya x reader fluff? Like it's cuddles and words stuff like that?

"scoot over."

show: alice in borderland

character: chishiya shuntaro

summary: after a hard game, you decide to unwind. the hatter throws another party, but chishiya is only interested in finding out why you weren't attending.

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov

a/n: no amount of apologies could atone to your mistake. (im joking, thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy!!)

"well done." you hear your assigned partner for the last game, ann, say to you. she pats your back gently, fixing her sunglasses on her nose. "only a handful of cards left now."

you sigh out, craning your neck to relieve some tension, "thanks, ann. you too, you were great. i just can't wait to leave this place..."

she didn't know whether you speaking about the borderlands or the beach. the place was always loud and cheerful, and while that was a nice change in pace for the world they were in, sometimes somebody just needed some good peace and quiet.

but ann only removes her hand from your back, walking off towards her room. "i understand. get some rest."

a silent 'thank you' is said as you walk pass the atrium, looking down the hallway to see the crowds of people and hatter presenting the card you had just won and returned. everyone cheered, music starting up again as hatter claims another party is to be thrown.

to the beach! grab your towels and find some booze! it's time to celebrate another win!

you see the other executives standing behind him, nodding their heads and following to the party. but instead of joining, you rub your face and stifle a yawn. your room was further from the pools, so you could have some quiet.

sweat dripped down your back and you pull the collar of your summer shirt, trying to blow some cold air down your chest. why did the game have to be held in an open field, with no shade, while it was scorching hot. it's a wonder how ann managed to look so put together in such heat.

reaching your room was a safe haven, and you closed your door to flop onto your bed with ease. the promptly grabbed the remote and turned on the air conditioning, sighing dreamily at how the cold air hit your hot skin. it was almost too good to be true, how the electricity was still on. they hadn't checked on the generator in a while.

it isn't long until you hear the faint laughter and music coming from the party. it was a normal occurrence at this point, and you were glad that not many people partied inside the hotel. it gave you time to close your eyes and get into a comfortable position to sleep in.

there's a whisper of knocks at your door.

"who is it?" you groan, wiping your eyes.

the person replies, "astroboy."

you sit up, running fingers through your hair as you retort, "come in." chishiya marches through the door, closing it behind him. he crosses his arms over his chest as he studies you. "what do you need?"

"i just came by to congratulate the winner of the last game." he states, watching you crawl back under the first thin layer of blanket on your double bed, "the eight of clubs. always knew you were the trusting type."

with your back to him, you talk, "i trust you, don't i? that's risky enough."

"ann told us that you were the leader in that game. i'm impressed." chishiya compliments, coming closer and picking up the small teddy keychain on your beside table. you had found a ball machine and a broken one, so using the coins from that, you won yourself a blue teddy keychain. chishiya told you to just get them all, but you said one was enough. "i thought you would be down there celebrating with everyone else."

you shake your head, yawning, "i'm too tired to go out there. i'm staying in my room for the night to sleep."

"oh, is that so?" he hums, putting the keychain down, "i'm the same. i can't be bothered watching them out there in this weather. it's agonising."

you nod your head in agreement, laying on your back. chishiya was always a nice guy that you were close with. he was sarcastically smart and sometimes got on your nerves. he was lucky you were so fond of him, he would've been kicked out of here if it weren't for that.

"wanna' stay?" you ask, looking to the ceiling.

"with you?" he mumbles.

"no, we'll do a room swap—yes with me, idiot." you grumble out, turning around again.

chishiya grins at your tone before muttering, "scoot over."

you do so. it's silent for two seconds before he does lay beside you. you can feel the heat radiating off him, so close that chishiya could see the hair blowing in your face from the air conditioning.

"what's wrong?" he asks, looking to the back of your head. you reply that 'it's nothing', but chishiya isn't buying it. "you usually at least stop by at every one of these parties. common courtesy for you. are you that tired?"

you don't say anything to him at first, but then, you turn around and lock eyes with the blonde. chishiya is on his back, he sees how you knit your brows in irritation.

"do you miss home?" you question, playing with the blanket, "our real home?"

"of course, who doesn't? these games dwindle our numbers and we don't even know why we're here." chishiya states, looking unbothered by what he said, "it's a fascinating world, though."

"it's a prison." you mumble into the blanket. your knee nudges his thigh, and chishiya lays a hand on the pillow, in between the both of you. staring at his fingers, you reach out and put your palm over his, gently. "i miss home."

"what was your home like?" he questions, eyed tracing your every breath.

"it was quieter than here. i used to cook with the tv going on in the background so it didn't sound like i was alone and that somebody was in the other room watching." you claimed, closing your eyes for a second, "but it was also really nice being by myself. my friends used to take me out all the time because i was a 'homebody'. all i had was work and home."

chishiya chuckles, brushing fingers over your knuckles, "that was just like me. i only had my work. and i worked at the hospital more than i spent time at home. my apartment was a good walk away, so i saw no point, y'know?"

you let out a hum, staring at your hands, "if we lived together, we'd barely see each other."

he smiles softly, nodding once. "i guess you're right."

"but it's still nice living by yourself. cooking for one, cleaning for one." you comment, suddenly missing your bedroom and your living room and kitchen. all that you were surrounded by before. "i've never spent a whole lot on groceries either, only as much as i needed. you don't need to do more than yourself. and there's nobody else to worry about..."

you were so tired. you missed being able to sleep in and not having to go to bed early because you had a death-defying game to play the next day. you missed not having to think about your life to intricately. you missed your actual life.

"you wouldn't have to worry about me." chishiya says, and your eyes open to see the blonde looking back at you with certainty. his hand clutches yours warmly. "i wouldn't make you worry."

"you promise?" you ask quietly, knitting your brows.

"if you want me to." he tells you. your brows upturn. "i promise."

chishiya was the most normal thing about your life right now. someone who just likes to see you around every now and again. more often than he'd like to admit. but he was so warm and considerate.

a swift movement of yours has arms around chishiya's neck, hugging him close to your chest as your bury your face into his hair. he lets out a small huff at the action before hands rest on your hips, snaking to around your waist. the blanket nearly covers all of chishiya, and he feels your hot skin shiver twice before calming down. he rubs your back gently as your shoulders relax.

"when we get back, you'll find me?" you ask, hopeful.

he can hear your heartbeat grow faster. "you will." he responds.

"tell me about your life?" you request.

he hums, leaning back and facing the ceiling again. you scoot closer, keeping an arm stretched across his chest and laying your head on his shoulder. "med student. i work with patients requiring transplants and people on waiting lists, but i'm an all round." he explains, "my apartment is of decent size. i have a spare bedroom that i keep all extra storage in. my study is filled. i have to say, it is nice living alone."

you nod your head, and chishiya goes on, "i usually get breakfast on the way to work; just one sugar and a quarter milk, or sometimes i just get black coffee with two sugars." he can tell you're only half listening, from the way you're playing with the strings of his jacket. but he doesn't mind. "on my breaks, i go to this takeout place across from the hospital. they sell my favourite meat buns, i always buy at least two."

he taps your back, twice you note. and you look up at him. "when we get out of here, remind me to show you." he says, "it can be our spot."

you stare at him for a while before nodding slowly. "yeah... okay."

he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head, muttering back with she unknown knowledge, "you'll come find me one way or another."

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

How to hug your Port Mafia Boss

Self-Aware! BEAST! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu

Description: He can't sleep at night. He ended up on your doorstep.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Short and fluffy.

You bit the end of your pencil. This word cross was hard. Technically, you were supposed to be in bed already, but, you still have half of this word cross to finish. You won't have time to finish it tomorrow, and you don't want to leave it unsolved.

"Will you finally get to bed?" grumble Osamu, glaring your word cross. He was laying on your bed. He came here earlier, wanting to cuddle tonight.

"Iris Flower, I need some cuddles!" whined Osamu, holding his hands towards you.

Before you can answer, you heard that noise again.

You heard steps, coming from outside your room. Normally, you won't bother to pay attention to the sound. There is no curfew (except for the kids), and some members of the Cast enjoyed midnight snacks or going to a nightclub.

Yet, there was one thing that bothered you.

This someone was walking from one side of the corridor to another for fifteen minutes already.

And you were sure, that it was the same person. Of course, your hearing won't be as sharp as Jouno's, but after his lesson you could tell, if the sound of steps were the same or different.

After this, someone walked outside your door again. Your curiosity took the best of you. You put word cross to the side, stand up from your chair and went to the door.

You opened the door.

And came face to face with Dazai. Whose left eye was cowered in bandages.

He stepped on the side, startled. He looked guilty.

"Sorry, [Y/N]. Did I wake you up?" Port Mafia Boss whispered.

You shook your head. Your words were soft.

"Don't worry, Dazamu, I wasn't sleeping."

Dazai frowned. He knew why he was called either Dazai or Dazamu (Osazai sounded too silly for him). He wasn't used to have a nickname. Dazai spoke, his voice was quiet.

"You shouldn't stay up late."

You whispered in return.

"You also should be in bed. Did something happened?" After a pause, you put your hand on his shoulder.

"You can tell me."

Dazai looked away, hiding his gaze. After a few moments, he spoke again.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He looked like, he was ready to snap, if you tried to pry further.

You weren't planning to do it. You still were building your relationship with BEAST Gang.

But something you can do now.

You stepped closer to Dazai and hugged him.

He was thin. He was tall. He was stiff.

You run your fingers through his hair and squeezed him slightly. You pressed your cheek against the side of his neck.

"If you say so. Just, remember, if you need someone to hear you out, I will be here."

Dazai didn't move. Then he slowly put his arms around your shoulders.

He was embarrassed. Yet, he didn't move away.

You stay like this for a few moments. Then you let him go.

"Good night, Dazai."

Before you could close the door, Dazai whispered.

"Can I stay?"

You turned towards your bed, wondering why Osamu was quiet. Turned out, he was finishing your word cross. He looked up from it and stared at you. Without breaking an eye contact, he wrote down the last word. Then looked at his double. And nod.

You glance at Dazai.

"You can stay. And you..."

You looked at Osamu and rolled your eyes.

"Fine, you won. Scoot over, don't hog all the place."

It took time, but you three managed to get comfy on your bed. You felt the embraces of both males from both sides of you and knew that it was the safest place in the world to be.

Osamu was hugging you from behind. Your back pressed against his chest. Osamu loves to be a big spoon.

Your cheek is pressed against Dazai's chest. You can hear the soft, rhythmic beating of his heart. You rub his back caringly up and down.

Warmth, heartbeat, breathing...

All if you drift off...

This night, Dazai Osamu, Boss of Port Mafia, had a good rest. Without dreams. But he felt safe.

And he was sure in a next day.

[squiddy-god]

Hi!! I’m new so I’m not sure if there’s a character limit but could I get the baldurs gate 3 characters with a plus size gn reader?

(If there is a limit could I get Wyll, Karlach, and/or Astarion?)

Thank you!!

I added gale because i want that wizard SO BAD this is a super cute request just keep in mind that i haven't played a whole lot of baldur's gate- also there is no character limit but i think id cap it at like 7 for hcs. Maybe slight possible spoilers. Yall are so lucky i almost included karniss for funsies but held back my spider simping 

Cw : might have slightly suggestive bits but is sfw, gn reader, no pronouns, fluffy, mentions of past body shaming, 

Wyll

He's so sweet- a real gentleman at heart

He loves to rest his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms rough your waist 

After the horns tho it makes it a bit harder so he settles for holding you and resting his head on your chest 

Kinda obsessed with your hands, always kisses the back of your hands or the inside of your wrist

Hes prone to stress, so when he’s feeling particularly stressed he gets kinda clingy- he will (wyll haha) never admit that he's being clingy tho

He hugs you, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he squeezes your sides and relaxes with exhale. 

Your soft and comforting and after all the things he's been through he is in desperate need of some comfort 

I think wyll enjoys being seen as more knightly, your knight in shining armor

That being said this man can and will defend your honor, people can be so cruel and he won't stand for it, he is absolutely going to defend you when people are talking shit because he will have none of it 

Wyll is a sweet man, he wants you to be comfortable and happy with him, so he does his best to reassure you about how he loves every bit of you and tries to ease your insecurities 

Karlach 

Hrmmmmgghghggdgg love her,,,love her so much hehehehe

She loves cuddles so much and is so touch starved fight me on this 

She sees you and gets a sappy smile because she is just so mushy 

I think out of all the companions she is definitely one of the top chubby person lovers

Handsy, she loves to hold and squish every part of you, the way your chubby arms wrap around her waist and torso while she rubs your back is heaven actually

I think she would love tummy kisses, she loves them even more if you get flustered because you are cute<3 she really adores how soft you are

She likes picking you up and she absolutely can and will at every opportunity that presents itself 

She is throwing hands if someone body shames you

Like she gets the most aghast expression of “how dare they” 

Normally people just turn tail and run but she is so down to throw hands 

Being insecure with karlach is very hard because she has no issue telling you how much she loves you, and she is very honest, her words really show threw her actions 

Astarion 

I feel like astarion is someone who understands insecurity on a deep level, there are many aspects of himself that make him insecure

You have been so warm to him, you love him so genuinely he wants to return the favor by also loving you so genuinely, size doesn't matter to this man 

Ignore that last part he loves feeding on you, so much to sink his teeth into ;) like eating something warm and comforting 

“Gorgeous as always” is a regular statement he makes whenever seeing you 

Loves to hold you before bed because he can just relax and feel himself melt into you.

Astarion is very fond of squishing your cheeks, if hes happy or mad at you your cheeks are getting squashed because this vampire has a bit of cuteness aggression 

King of talk shit get bit because he is kinda just looking for a reason to have a little murder as a treat

Like he hears someone body shame you and is like “can i pleaseeeeee stab them?just a little” 

He will find them 

He won't tolerate people adding to your self doubt because he thinks you are genuinely just the most beautiful creature and he WON >:3

Gale

I WANT THIS WIZARD SO BAD 

I'm so incredibly down bad for gale he's such a dork i love him 

He's awkward honestly, he'd like to be all suave but when it comes to physical affection he is quite awkward. 

Eventually he finds peace in just being able to hold you close, he particularly enjoys being able to hold you against his chest while he reads to you

I think he would enjoy teaching you about magic (assuming you aren't also a wizard) and if you are a wizard he still enjoys reading you books about magic 

He's a sucker for just being sweet and domestic with you

Big fan of your thighs and if you are sitting in his vicinity his hand is always resting on your thigh occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze to calm you both down 

Big fan of shoulder kisses when you both first wake up

I love sassy kinda mean gale when he talks to rude people so i love the idea of him just verbally destroying someone who talks sit about you 

Hes actually pretty good about ginning you reassurance for your insecurities

He doesn't have the best way with words sometimes but he is just so flabbergasted at your thoughts because he personally wants to fuse souls lmao 

[maxillness]

Secret Love Song || LH44 x Russell!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, age-gap, degrading kink, praise kink, sub!lewis

Wordcount: 1.4k

“Oh, fuck. Just like that, baby” He moaned from above her. His hands were tangled in her hair as his back was pushed up against the door of his drivers room

“Your lips feel so good around me” He couldn’t stop praising her, even though he knew she was gonna be in charge when they got to her place after the race later

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this; saliva dripping down your chin, red cheeks, my cock in your mouth” His body was starting to sweat as he twitched in her mouth

“Just like that. Fucking hell, I’m gonna-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before he shot his hot loath down her throat

She stood up as she swallowed his cum. He zipped his trousers back up before kissing her tenderly “I’m gonna return the favour when we get to your place after the race, okay love?”

“If you win” She kissed his cheek before leaving the room. They both managed to get back to the others without being seen leaving his drivers room

“Where were you?” George asked her with a hint of concern in his voice

“I was just at the bathroom, no need to worry your pants” She chuckled as she walked over to him

“I’m just looking out for you” He said with soft eyes

“George, I’m 20, you don’t need to look out for me anymore” He had always protected her through out their childhood, he was worse then their parents

“You’re right. I’m sorry”

Normally after her and Lewis had fucked or she would have sucked him off, they would be clingy with each other. Her lips would be all over him. On his lips, cheek, neck, throat, chest, stomach, anywhere they could be, they would be

But they couldn’t this time. Nobody knew they were together, and god forbid they ever told anyone, her brother would absolutely destroy him, both on and outside the track

I wanna kiss you so bad rn

She heard the ping of the message she had sent across the garage. She looked over to Lewis who had picked up his phone. He looked over at her before typing

I want to kiss you too love, but you know we can’t <3

She knew it was true, but what if they fucked with the rules? What if they stood in the corner and it was just a little peck before going back to talk to people they were talking to before

Win the race and my lips will be all over you ;)

She smiled as she sent the text. She looked over at Lewis who was blushing hard. He was talking with Bono who looked confused at him

She could hear their conversation, but she guessed Lewis’ excuse for his slightly red cheeks would be something like it was hot in the garage

It gave her some kind of rush, knowing she was the only one to draw this kind of reaction out of him

It also made her folds wet, but she would never dare to tell him that

She spend the rest of the day in the garage, sending him texts with either different kinds of praises, promises to fuck him when he wins, or wishes about the two of them

You’re always doing so good for me

You better do good on the track, Hamilton

I’m gonna fuck you dumb when you win

I’m gonna fuck your brains out

I wish you could hold me in your arms

I wish you could kiss me before your race

Every time she sent a text, she looked over at Lewis who would just blush harder every time, if that was even possible

Her brother had questioned her multiple times who she was texting, but she would always say it was one of her friends

Like wise did he ask Lewis, who said it was either his parents, his neighbour who was sitting Roscoe, or one of his friends

Stop sending me all those text love

Why? I can see you like them <3

She looked over at him, eyes went down to his slight boner in his trousers

You drive me crazy woman

At least I fuck as good as I drive you crazy ;)

He won the race, of course. I mean, if he hadn’t my won, maybe he wouldn’t get to fuck his teammates sister

“You need a lift home?” George asked her

“No thanks, George” She didn’t give him a reason why, but he brushed it off like he was used to it

“You did so good, baby” Her hand was on his inner thigh as he drove them to her apartment. His breath was heavier as her handed hockey closer to the place where he needed her the most

“Thank you, love” He said, his words almost getting caught in his throat. Her hand started stroking his thigh, making him harder by every stroke

They had barely entered the apartment when Lewis was all over her. His hands on her waist, pulled close to him as his lips were on hers and her hands were on his ass, squeezing him every so often

“Fuck, I want to return the favour, love” His lips traveled over to her jaw

“Then get to the bedroom, Lew” Her hands traveled him to stroke his sides

“No, I want you now” He backed her back so her ass hit the dinning table “Please” His hands went to the back of her thighs, lifting her up on the table

“Lewis, we should go to the bedroom” He had already gone to his knees as she spoke

He didn’t listen to her words, he instead proceeded to pull her closer to the edge of the table. He lifted her skirt up, giving him access to pull down her panties as she bucked her hips

She gave in, and let him do what he wanted to her. He threw her panties the floor beside them before spreading her knees, giving him more access to her cunt

He pulled one of her legs over his shoulder before darting his tongue out to lick through her folds

She moaned at the contact between his tongue and her clit. He flicked over it with his tongue as he entered her with on of his fingers

As her moans started getting loud, he inserted another finger “What wouldn’t your teammate think, huh? If he knew how you fuck his little sister” He hummed at her words giving her extra pleasure

She bucked her hips into his face, grinding on his tongue she came close to her orgasm “Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good for me” Hs Eleanor’s her head back, rolling her eyes into the back of her head “Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

A few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of his tongue, and she came around his fingers. He rode out her high before pulling out of her and standing up

She got to the ground “The bedroom, Lew” He kissed her quick before going to the bedroom

She chuckled at his eagerness. She walked into the bedroom, seeing him already stripped naked and laid on the bed

“Good. You’re already ready for me” She smirked as she walked over to him

“I’m always ready for you, love” He said pulling her into his lap. She pulled her shirt off and unhooked her bra. She threw them both to the floor

She spit in her hand, and started stroking him slow. She lined herself up with his cock, slowly pushing him in making them both moan

“Fuck, you always fill me up so good, Lew” She smirked as she started moving. She loved hearing his moans and whimpers coming from him

“You sound so pretty” She kept praising him as he started bucking his hips up into her, meeting her thrusts

He gripped her hips tighter, slamming her down onto him. Both their moans were loud and heavy as they came closer to their orgasms

“You feel so good around me. Fuck, love. I fucking love you” He spoke between his moans “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum, fuck, please”

Her fingers went to her clit, circling it between her fingers. Her actions pushed her closer to her orgasm

“Cum for me, baby” He came into her, holding her down onto him. Him coming into her, sent her over the edge, coming around him for the second time today

She pulled off of him, going to the bathroom to get a damp towel to clean them both up. She laid down beside him, scooting close into him under the duvet

“I love you” He sighed holding her close kissing her forehead

“I love you too” She kissed his chest laying down hearing his heartbeat

[joshslater]

Resizing

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"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[shuenkio]

Pretty please | Yjw. 🐇

Paring: Jungwon x m!reader : Genre: Fluffy

Synopsis: He was desperate to have you when he heard a conversation you'd never date him.

Cw: Cheesy line attack (12am cringe thought expect less y'all)

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Crd dividers (Anitalenia) and the owner of pics

A&N: Head empty once filled when I was listening to ' pretty please ' such a mood what if he'd do these— (jkd au) you called these drabble right? Not sure... [This was so cringe at some point naurrr]

Imagine living your normal life peacefully until a cute guy comes crushing in. His name really did explain his own character. Like garden sheep? Pretty new and adorable.

But that was your first impression of him on the day you first met him in front of the school office. His face is round like a dumpling, his sharp eye liner is tight up above the end corner like a cat's eyes, and his pupils are as cute as boba. Jungwon is the most bubbly, lovely little guy ever. And it's actually what you were thinking back then.

Present time, He was a total opposite. Jungwon became taller, had buff body proportions, and last but not least, his maturity turned manly. Everyone would not dare approach him at school since his look could kill well for you; this was an exception. He still acts silly, like a ball of sunshine, just to get your eyes only. Who knows, maybe both of you are friends? Or did Jungwon think the other way?

Lately, the last few weeks after the exam, he started to act strange. He has a lot of physical touch, craves attention, is clingy like a koala, and would find any way to be with you, holding you in his grips. Growing suspicious and with a weird expression on his face, you wanted to ask him why, but before that could happen, he was already there.

During the times you talk to your friend, chitchatting about your crush, Jungwon happens to walk by and hears you saying—

"What? No, Jungwon was my boyfriend. Why would you think like that? There's no dating; don't get the wrong  idea." Denying the statement. Those sentences making Jungwon low-key sad about the fact he's giving all his signals to you just vanished. Msybey, it was not there; you're too oblivious to even bother to ensure him, so after school, Jungwon asked you to meet him somewhere you both usually go.

There he goes again—too strange, too weird—but you keep unziping until you get your answer.

When you arrived at the spot, you heard a sob while he was back facing you. Did you just hear him cry? Rare.

Heart almost dropped to the floor, turning him around as his face filled with broken pieces, red eyes, dry tears, and a puffing face. There's no way you actually witness your boyfriend crying; he's too cute to be in tears.

"What's wrong? Won-ie," asks him gently, trying to maintain the atmosphere as clear as clam ever. Hearing you ask only to fuel it even more, by seeing your face, he's already planned the future with you. He wants you; he likes you, but would you return his feelings? That day he eavesdropped, which is already enough, yet he can't accept it; he needs to do something.

"M/N, I have never cried before, but—can I ask something crazy?" Mumble in a low tone; try not to hic from streaming tears. Slowly lock his contact on yours, waiting for your next answer.

Nod and respond with action instead of words. Jungwon, then take a deep breath before kneeling on both knees, holding on to your hands.

Chin up, staring at your speechless reaction, as he processes to utter:

"Please take me; please love me, m/n. I had never done such cringe-worthy, cheesy things like these before, yet you made me. It's hard every day to not love someone like you. You're something I need every day, my very best friend, that I don't consider one but more than that!

Pretty please, I'll let you ruin my heart even if you have to just let me love you." Desperately, a lion could turn into a cat if it needed to; for what they love, unexpected things could happen. Jungwon is actually begging for you to let you hurt him just for him to love you?

"Jungwon—don't get me wrong, i uh ashh, you probably heard my conversation with my friends...

나도 좋아해"

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

Ps: COPY AND PASTE KOREAN SENTENCE FOR BETTER EXPERIENCE 😜

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 9 K Warnings: Angst (like pretty much every chapter so far). ♡THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT ♡: fingering, hand job, P in V, lots of kissing and teasing. Soft!Sirius. Consent is Sexy! Prompt: At the Potter's, Sirius and Reader take a small little detour in the woods. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 50: Love the One You’re With

♡ SMUT UNDER THE CUT ♡

January, 06th, 1977

Spending time with the boys, planning the prank, and exploring the grounds of Potter Manor had been as distracting as you could expect it to be. James had woken you every day at around 10 am for flying –he’d borrowed you one of his old brooms– and even Remus had joined since it wasn’t unspeakably early like normally. 

You hadn’t seen him fly very often, but he was as good as any of the boys. If he trained, he could have even become better than James. He also joined smaller quidditch matches that you played with the boys, and while he hadn’t trained as much as either of you, he had a mean-as-hell arm for beating. You could tell Sirius had a hard time returning his bludgers, you decided not to test your luck and avoided them altogether. Even if Remus seemed to always be checking if you were alert before throwing one your way, they flew so fast, that you barely had time to step out of their trajectory. 

You were thankful that the boys hadn’t tried to talk about what happened further, not even Effie who seemed to always look at you with a small frown on her soft features. As if she wanted to approach you and talk things out but was also refraining from doing so. 

Even James, who tended to be a little too wrapped in his head seemed to be extra considerate, and he was clearly trying to keep you entertained. Be it flying, prank designing, asking you to help him with the letter he would send to Lily, or inventing games for everyone to play, he wasn’t letting anyone have a free moment in which any of you could start moping.

And you were more than thrilled it had been that way, you were still trying to avoid your feelings, pretending as if all of it hadn’t happened wasn’t as hard as you thought it might be outside of the bubble of the cottage, in fact with James being so hell-bent on entertaining all of you, you barely even had time to consider the difference. Besides, there was something else occupying your mind. 

Remus was acting weird again, and you still weren’t sure what was going on with him. You also weren’t enough of a hypocrite to ask him to talk it through with you when you had barely done the same yourself. Either way, you kept your eyes on him often, trying to read his expressions –never his mind thought– to see if you could use body language and wit to understand what was going on with your best friend.

“I’m knackered,” you said as you threw yourself on the sofa. You had been playing all day and Remus and Sirius had been ruthless while trying to throw you and James off your brooms while you chased the snitch. He had won. 

“At least you’ll become better at dodging this way,” James said as he handed you a glass of water and sat beside you. 

“I’m already pretty good at dodging.” 

“You might hold the record of getting hit by the most balls at this point, Starshine,” Sirius said as he sat on the small wooden table in front of you and Prongs. Remus plopped right next to you and sank into the sofa. 

“My arms hurt,” he complained. “Don’t yours?” 

“Nope,” Sirius said, popping the p. Remus might have been stronger, but he wasn’t used to beating almost every day in the same way Sirius was. He never thought he’d be able to boast about having more condition than his best friend the werewolf and he was positively beaming because he wasn’t half as tired as Remus looked. 

You took a sip of the water James had given you and passed it to Remus who looked even thirstier than you felt, he took it gladly, his hands brushing over yours as they normally would. As if his tiredness made him forget why he’d placed a distance between the two (or at least more than normal, you were still closer to him than you were to most people, he was your best friend, after all). 

“Okay, you may rest 5 minutes, then we’re going to see if we find more tadpoles” 

“Prongs, mate, there’s no way in hell I’ll go search for tadpoles, I want a shower and a bed,” Remus said.

“That,” you said as you pointed at Rems. “Actually sounds lovely, we should all do that instead.” 

“No,” Sirius said as he stood up and extended his hand your way. “I want to show you something.” 

“Sirius,” you whined, sinking deeper into the sofa.

“Come on, you’ll love it.”  You pouted. “I can carry you there if you want.” 

You sighed and stood up while grumbling something about wanting to rest for at least just a bit when James took hold of your arm. “But the tadpoles–” 

“Prongs, she’s coming with me now, go write a letter for Lily or whatever.” 

“Without Vixen?” he asked mortified, Remus laughed. 

“Don’t send it until someone sane has checked it, at least.” 

“She can’t continue being your cupid,” Remus added. “You’ll have to sway Lily by yourself.” 

You laughed. “As if he hadn’t asked Sirius all the tips and tricks before hooking up with her.” 

“Not a hook-up,” James corrected. “We’re dating, I’m not like Moony.” 

A pillow hit James’ face after that. “I’m tired, not deaf,” Remus grumbled, he was especially cranky because the moon would be the following day, you had already made arrangements for it. The Potters knew about Remus’ condition and they’d leave the perimeters so you could handle everything by yourselves in your animagi form.

“Well, you’ve never had an actual girlfriend. And you were playing around with that Ravenclaw girl, who by the way, I didn’t like all that much either.” 

“Alice is nice!” you said quickly. She was a little boy crazy and she enjoyed being a free spirit, but she was a good girl, very clever too. 

“I’m not saying she isn’t. But Remus didn’t love her. If anything I’d say he liked you more than he ever liked her.” 

Remus panicked the minute James said that, but it flew right past both you and Sirius. “Well that’s because I’m amazing, Prongs,” you said with a smile and shot him a wink. 

“Not what I meant,” he responded in a more serious tone. 

“How about you all stop discussing my love life and start worrying about your own?” 

“Will you help me with the letters? Maybe you know a poem that could help me sway her.” 

“No,” Remus said dourly.  

“Oh, he knows many,” you teased. 

“I’m still not gonna help him.” 

“But Moony!” Prongs said with a pout and allowed his head to fall on Moony’s legs, he got shoved off shortly after. You laughed, even though something in the back of your mind told you there was something wrong with the entire ordeal. Sirius does that all the time and he never gets more than an annoyed glance, you realised. Then again, James had just insulted Moony, and Moony could be really petty when he wanted to, especially near the moon.

“How about this… I’ll get you one of mom’s relaxing bath bombs, and you help?” Luckily for James, he could be persistent as hell when he wanted to. 

Moony groaned in return and turned to James. “You think you can add something for muscle pain?” 

“Playing again tomorrow helps with that,” Sirius said as he ruffled Remus’ hair, who in turn, shoved his hand off and threw him a spiteful look. “We’ll leave you boys to it then,” he said with a shrug wrapping his hand in yours to pull you along with him. 

“Where are you taking me?” You asked as you reached the door and he grabbed a thick coat, placing it around your shoulders and then placing a hat over your head that was so long you had to push back to be able to see again. Sirius took one of Remus’ coats and placed it around himself. 

“He charmed it, it’s warmer,” he said casually as he accommodated it. “And… it’s a surprise.” Had he really taken Remus’ sweater because it was warmer? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had seen his and James’ and yours (borrowed by Effie), and Remus’ had seemed the best choice. You hadn’t even noticed he had taken Remus’ until he mentioned it was warmer. 

You pursed your lips and sighed, nodded and followed along Sirius, who still holding your hands in his, was walking you through the billowy blanket of snow that stretched all the way to the small forest. You had seen the forest before, the boys had taken you there a couple of times and while you hadn’t actually seen the entire thing, the Potters had mentioned it was safe, and that it had been in the family for generations –nothing like the Forbidden Forest back in Hogwarts.

“Will you really not tell me where we’re going?” 

“No, close your eyes.” He responded. “Go on!” 

You shook your head with a small scoff but did as told. He placed his hands over your face. One of them was warm –the one he had around yours– but the other one was a little colder, which made you flinch back and crash against him. He chuckled breathily and you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“If you wanted for us to stand closer you could have said so, Étoile.” 

You huffed in response. “Next time you put your freezing hands on my face, I’ll throw snow down your shirt.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said with a pout and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. His lips were also rather cold, but you didn’t mind them touching you at all. “Careful there’s a branch,” he said as he guided you through the forest.

“Are we close?” 

“Almost,” Sirius replied. “To the left,” he added as he pushed you to the side for you to get past another obstacle. 

You must have given 15 other steps. You felt the weather get slightly humid and… kind of warmer? “Sirius what is–” 

“Open your eyes,” he interrupted and removed his hands from your face and placed them on your shoulder instead. 

There was a small round pool, surrounded by trees, although the sun still shone through some of them. There was steam piling on top of the water and the water itself was so pale, that it almost looked silver, like Sirius’ eyes. You leaned down and curiously dug your hand. The water was indeed warm, but when you pulled your hand out along with it, it rained down in a colourful, rainbow-like, manner. 

You dug your hand again and agitated it inside the water, the ripples were just as colourful as the stream that had dropped from your hand, turning the silvery water into a splendid visage. You had heard of things like this but you had never actually seen them. 

“Is this–” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said as he leaned down next to you. “A vieux fae thermal pool. Legend says Nymphs each had one of these to warm themselves in winter and invite their Nereid friends. James and I found it a few years ago while exploring and we lost it. I found it again while looking for the Tadpoles and thought you had to see it.” 

“There weren’t any here, were they?” you teased and he shook his head with a laugh. He also placed his hand on the water, but it didn’t tint all the wonderful colours like it had with your hand. It was only silvery shiny ripples. 

You leaned your hand towards his in the water, and the moment you touched it, the colours came back. “It must be your fae heritage,” Sirius said. “It certainly didn’t make those colours when James and I swam inside.” 

“You swam inside?” You gasped, turning to him in disbelief. “Don’t you know that pisses off the fae?” 

“There are no fae here,” he responded. “They made a deal with Prong’s family long ago. They switched lands or something like that. Effie was scandalised when we told her the thermal pool we’d found thinking there was fae in the house,” he chuckled, “but Monty was quick to tell her about it.”

“Does that mean… we can get swim without pissing anyone off?” You asked, a small smirk appearing on your lips. 

“Indeed,” Sirius said, mirroring your expression. 

Your smile grew wider and you quickly shrugged off the coat. It was cold, but the water would be warm enough once you were inside. Sirius copied you in an instant. Remus’ coat was carefully left on top of a rock, right next to yours. You discarded the hat and flipped Remus’ long-sleeved jumper over your head. 

“Don’t you have any clothes of your own?” Sirius asked when he noticed you had one of his shirts under that. 

“Shut up or I’ll actually swim with it,” you responded as you unlaced your trainers and took them off, placing them and your socks just beside the rock. 

“But you’d ruin it!” 

“Exactly,” you added before unbuttoning the thick pants you had on letting them drop on the floor. You were shivering slightly and missed the way Sirius’ gaze trailed your thighs as you stepped out of the pants and left them on the rock.

By the time you looked his way he had already averted your gaze, but his cheeks were slightly tinted. He pulled his hand back and yanked his shirt off from the back of the neckline, it had been so fast and so seamless that you couldn’t help but blink in surprise. 

“Like what you see?” he teased. 

“Oh shut up, Puppy,” you said before taking your own shirt off. Either way, Sirius had already seen you in underwear, you were not expecting him to get nearly as flustered as he did. “Turn around.”

“What?” He asked with a frown. 

“Turn around, I don’t want to have wet underwear when we get out.” 

He frowned and once he understood what you meant he swallowed and did as told. He was tempted to turn back, to see, but he fixed his eyes on the pile of clothes and tried not to think too much about it when he saw, first your bra, and then your knickers fall on the rock. He gulped and tried to focus his mind on something else, which proved rather unsuccessful since he could still see them on the rock. 

There was a short splash, “You may turn now,” you said with a smile. He turned around. You were leaning against the edge, you had your face resting on your arms and he could see half of your back as it dipped into the rainbow colours that seemed to ripple away from you. Your scarred arm was in full view, and his gaze lingered over it just for a second before it went back to your face.

Your hair was wet and it was clinging to your head and there were a few droplets of water sliding from your cheek that shone like bubbles, or perhaps like oil spilt on the ground. He gulped thickly and stared, no wonder muggles were kidnapped by fae and drowned by mermaids willingly, he thought, he too would have gotten in willingly if he found you like that on a random walk in the woods. When you realised he was staring you smirked and tilted your head to the side. “Like what you see?” 

He scoffed wryly at the way you threw his words back at him and smiled, biting his lip before tilting his head as well. “Turn around then,” he told you.

You smiled, and dipped back in the water, appearing back again with your back turned to him. He was quick to take off his underwear and jump in, you heard him sigh as the water helped him warm up again.

When the water stilled you turned around again. Sirius was staring at you with a sneaky little smile, paying close attention to how the water looked. He found it absolutely fascinating, the way your sole touch made the water change so naturally around you, he wondered what that same touch could do to him. It would certainly change some things. 

“Stop it,” you said with a smile. 

“I’m doing nothing!” he protested.

“You’re staring.” 

“Well, you’re beautiful, you can’t blame me.” 

You pouted and dipped half of your head in the water, only leaving your eyes above it before he noticed how embarrassed he’d made you. It’s not that Sirius didn’t take every chance he got to remind you how much he liked you, but you weren’t always naked while he said it. 

He smirked, “Are you flustered?” 

You splashed him with water in retort, the water flying in all sorts of magical colours and turning silver the minute it clashed with his skin, like his eyes. 

“Oi!” he complained as he wiped his face with the back of his hands. 

“This reminds me of Mexico.” 

“This is nothing like Mexico,” he responded, while he avoided staring at the valley of your breasts, he was sure the waves and ripples you were both creating could –if they wanted to– stop covering most of them and flash him in the process.

“What do you mean? There’s water, you’re being a bit of an idiot, trying to seduce me with your pretty words–” he splashed you now, the silvery water falling in colourful droplets onto your face. “See? You’re even splashing me when I call you out!” 

“You think I’m trying to seduce you?” He asked with a smirk, taking a step closer. 

“Aren’t you always?” you retorted. 

He hummed in response, cocking his head to the side with a devilish smile, he looked bewitching, his curls were wet and cascading around his face, the ripples of colour reflecting in his eyes, sometimes it was staggering how gorgeous he was, but he knew the effect he had on you and he loved it. 

“Perhaps I am,” he said as he took another step closer. “But you love every bit of it, don’t you, Starshine? You love it when I call you pretty, and when I whisper in your ear how much I like you, the way you laugh, the way you look at me, the way you smell.” 

You knew what he was doing, and you threw another splash of water his way before pushing yourself to the side and swimming around him. He laughed at your reaction and threw some water back, silvery and colourful water droplets clashing against each other and your faces. 

You dipped your head in the water and circled him until you stood behind him, then leaned a little closer, placing both hands on his shoulders and using them as leverage to float a little. Leaning in even further and resting your head on his neck, not quite allowing the rest of your body to touch his, not yet. 

“Do you mind?” you asked as you wrapped one of your arms over his shoulder.

“Not at all,” he said, voice short. Neither of you had forgotten that under the ripples of the silvery water, you were both bare. He turned his head and pressed a soft, and quick kiss to your cheek. “You feel really soft,” he added. 

“You’ve felt me plenty of times.” 

He stifled a laugh at the innuendo in your words, “I meant slippery.” 

You hummed in response, “You do too… but not soft,” you added as you sneaked one of your hands on his bicep, it was still toned after he practised beating with Rem, more than normal if you might say so yourself.

“Tease,” he said as he shoved you with his shoulder, stopping when he felt your breast brush against his skin. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly. He had felt your breasts before, while making out, but never on his back and he hadn’t dared to sneak his hand under your bra either. 

“It’s okay,” you said and leaned a little closer, allowing them to fully rest on his back. He flushed when he felt your nipples, perky against his muscles. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

“I certainly don’t,” he replied and thanked the heavens the water was all sorts of colours instead of clear, or you would have seen his –very evident now– reaction to your closeness. “Are you flustered now?” you asked when you noticed the slight blush creeping up his neck.

“It’s the cold,” he rushed out. 

“Is it?” you teased and brushed your hand over his arm again. “And here I thought I was turning you on.” 

He turned his head to look at your face with eyebrows raised, surprised at your words. 

“Starshine…” he warned. 

You gave him an innocent look in return, “Yeah?” 

“Who’s seducing who, now?” 

“Still you,” you said with a small smirk, reaching out to brush one of his curls behind his ear. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back to admire him again, your fingers tracing circles near his collarbone.

“You think?” he asked as he turned his head to yours, his lips dangerously close to your own. 

“Definitely,” you whispered, his lips were almost brushing yours. He closed the gap, it was a small kiss at first. But you leaned in closer and his tongue was in yours in no time. You were slowly slipping from his shoulder and in front of him while you kissed. He placed both of his hands on the back of your neck when you were in front of him, pulling your head closer and using his thumbs to brush your hair out of your face. 

“You’re stunning, you know that?” he asked as he pulled apart for a second and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Sometimes all I can think of is you,” he added. Sometimes it’s Remus. He kissed you again when that thought crossed his mind. 

One of his hands moved to your arm, and then to your waist, lingering only for a second on the side of your breast, as if he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure if you’d want that too. “Go ahead,” you said as you pulled from the kiss and whispered into his mouth. He seemed hesitant at first, but when you went back to kiss him he traced his fingers from your waist towards the lower side of your breast. He brushed his thumb before he wrapped his hand around it, he deepened the kiss and you almost melted under his touch. 

Neither you nor him had gotten this far before while making out, you loved it, you couldn’t think of anything other than Sirius and you certainly didn’t want to think of anything other than him. You’d been thinking too much already. You pushed your body into his but he pulled his hips back and placed both hands on your shoulders to hold you in place. 

“Wait,” he said, panting. “You don’t want to do that.” 

You cocked your head before you realised what had happened. “Sirius…” 

“Just one second,” he said, his eyes were closed shut and he had a small frown as if he was trying to concentrate on something. 

You smirked when he realised what was going on and giggled, placing your hand on his cheek before tentatively leaning closer to him again. “Weren’t you the one teaching Prongs all of your knowledge on the train?” 

His head snapped your way and he swallowed. “Yes but, we’ve– you’ve never… not really.” 

“Sirius, we've been going out for months.” 

“Exactly! And we’ve never even gotten past, you know!” 

“We do get interrupted rather often,” you said in agreement. “I doubt we’ll get interrupted now, though.” 

“But you’re naked,” he added as he motioned his head down, “Me too.” 

“Mhm,” you said as you leaned in to kiss him again, Placing your hand on his chest and then slowly sliding it down his chiselled abdomen you added, “That’s kind of a requirement for it.” When you reached down, you were not expecting to feel him as hard as he was, you pulled your hand back tentatively. “Is this why you pulled back?” 

He averted your gaze, and you smiled. “Sorry…” 

“Oh don’t be,” you said as you lowered your hand again, wrapping it around his cock, he groaned in response. “I just thought with your experience… it would take a little longer for you to– you know.” 

“You’ve been teasing since you shrugged off your coat, what did you expect?” he responded, you moved your hand. ”Fuck.” 

“You’ve never gotten like this while making out…” 

“You’ve never been naked while we’re making out. You’ve never teasingly placed your nipples on –shit.” 

“It’s okay,” you coed, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. 

You flicked your wrist and gripped him again, brushing his tip with your thumb and he moaned, louder than you had ever heard him moan, it sent a thrill down your spine. 

“Hold up–” he said and lowered one of his hands to your stomach. “May I?” He was panting from the way you were pleasuring him, flushed and he looked like it was hard for him to form proper thoughts, and yet here he was, head slightly tilted down, asking if he could touch you. 

You nodded in response. He bit his lip at your words and lowered his hands further down, tracing your slit slowly with his index and then using a different one to part his way in, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t cum the minute he felt you. It was all slippery, and he couldn’t tell if you were turned on, or if it was just the water, so he was slow and tender as he moved his fingers up and down your slit. 

“Is that good?” 

“Mhm,” you said as you moved your own hips to chase his fingers. “There,” you added as one of his fingers brushed against your clit. 

“Like this?” he asked as he circled, “or this?” he added as he moved his finger over it, in an up-and-down motion instead. 

“Fuck,” you said as you laid your head on his shoulder, your movements on his cock becoming dumber as his on your clit became more determined. 

“Okay, I see,” he smirked when he found a pace that you liked, he lowered his fingers a bit further and teased your entrance. “Would you like it if–” 

“Please,” you pretty much whined. He smiled, loving the effect he had on you and pulled you back for a kiss, you moaned into his mouth when you felt his finger tease your entrance again, slowly sliding in.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he sighed as he shut his eyes and pressed his forehead onto your shoulder, you squeezed your walls around his finger in return and he let out another curse. “You might kill me if you do that when I’m inside.” And then he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes moving rapidly as they looked for yours. “If you want it, of course.” 

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I’d love it.” 

You smirked and he used the hand that wasn’t occupied touching you, and slid it behind your waist, and then lower until he squeezed your ass, “You think you can take another one?” he asked as he teased your entrance with another finger, you nodded and he pulled the one inside off you out and then slowly slid the two of them in, this time making sure he was brushing your clit with his thumb the way that made you moan. Your hand on his cock faltered and he instantly took in his and wrapped it around his neck. “I can’t tell if you’re wet, Luv, you’re gonna have to tell me when you’re ready.” 

You pressed a kiss to his neck in response, and he continued with his expert movements. Now opening his fingers slightly, trying to make sure he’d be able to get in. 

“I think I’m ready,” you said while panting, your hips were bucking against his hand now, searching for more friction, but Sirius was being careful, he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted it to be special since it was your first time with each other. 

Forget that you were inside a Nymph pool and that because of your fae descendance, there were rainbow colours all around, he wanted you to feel special. 

He slowly pulled his hand out, you bit your lip and at the lack of friction and were quick to close the gap between your bodies again, he groaned when he felt your slit brush next to his cock. You smiled and moved your hip again, enjoying the feeling of sensitive skin against it. He wasn’t even inside you and he already felt like cumming. 

You lowered your hand in between your bodies, he held you from your waist, chest against chest so it was up to you to accommodate the two. You took his cock in your hand again and moved it over your slit two times, allowing his tip to brush against your clit which only got you going even more. “Ready?” You asked.

He wasn’t sure he’d managed to come up with a word so he merely nodded. Your forehead was against his as you guided his cock inside you. He was slow and steady, not moving at all and allowing you to be the one to push into him rather than the other way around. He bottomed out and opened his eyes to stare at you. “You good?” he breathed.

“Mhm,” you said with a nod and placed a short kiss on his lips. 

“I’m gonna move,” he warned, and slowly moved out, only a little, and then he went back in again. He moved his hands from your waist to your ass to help with the movements and you placed yours around his neck. He traced your ass until he found the place where your bodies met and touched it as he thrusted into you, imagining how beautiful you looked underneath the water, perhaps as lovely as you looked above it. 

You were using him as leverage, both of your hands on his shoulders but you craved more friction. So you wrapped one of your arms around his neck, leaning in closer to him and sliding the other one down your bodies. You too were curious as to how that looked, but you’d definitely be able to see it on a different day. You started circling your hand on your clit when he noticed what you were doing. He couldn’t quite move his hands away from your ass since there was nothing you could recline on, but he hated the idea of you having to do it yourself. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheeks, then further down and down until he reached your lips. You lifted your head to meet his halfway and he kissed you, slow and steady, much slower than the way he was thrusting into you underneath the glistening water, the coordination was absolutely exhilarating. 

“Luv,” he said softly, focusing your eyes on your face. “May I turn you around? I feel I could make you feel better that way.” 

“You feel you could?” you asked wryly, biting your lips at the thought. He wasn’t only thinking of his pleasure, that had been evident since he asked to touch you but it still sent butterflies down your stomach. The boastful and sometimes a little self-absorbed Sirius cared so much about the way he was making you feel. “Let’s try it then.” 

He pressed another kiss to your mouth and slowly got out of you, using his hands to turn you around, one under your breast and the other one guiding your hips. He cursed when your ass brushed over his cock and you repeated the hip movement under the water which only got a hiss from him. “Such a tease,” he said with a smile as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your neck, moving his hand on your hips to search for your entrance again. He too teased a couple of times, making sure to brush his tip against your clit like you had done earlier which elicited a short, quiet moan from you. 

“You can make all the noise you want,” he said with a smile, and then got in, a lot faster this time around. He wrapped his aiding hand around you and left it on your lower stomach as he moved the other one to your breast. 

He looked at you as if asking for permission before settling it there, and then he started to move again. But the hand on your lower stomach slid down and he started to touch you, in the same way he learned you liked earlier. 

“Good?” 

“Great,” you panted. Soon both of you were panting and moaning, and the sound of the water, along with the distant chirping of birds and other sounds of the wintery forest surrounding you had you both completely lost in each other. The cacophony of sounds, organic and lewd, soft and deep, moaning and grunts and pleas, all of them combining into the perfect atmosphere. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, even if you could.

“I think I have to… quick,” he added as he gently pushed you off of him. You quickly turned around and placed one of your hands on his shoulder as you reached down, wrapping your hand around his wrist and moving it away from his cock. You then wrapped your hand around him. 

“Like this?” you asked gently. 

“You can grip a little tighter,” he said, eyes squeezed shut, “and move your hand a little faster.”

“Okay,” you said and did as told. Stroking him with purpose, he moved one of his hands to your shoulder and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” he panted. And you instantly knew he was cumming. You kept moving your hand on him, milking him all the way through although you couldn’t be sure if he had or not finished completely. You lowered your pace only when he started to go soft. He pressed a small kiss to your lips, “You’re bIoody fantastic.” 

You smiled, and wafted towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in for a kiss. He was quick to wrap his arms around your back and hold you in place. When you pulled back from the kiss he started to place soft kisses all over your face, you could tell he was tired, his movements softer, and a lot more gentle than before –not that he had at any point stopped being gentle. 

Then you leaned down a little, sliding your cheek on his until your mouth was close to his ear. “Next time I’ll be taking Minnie’s potion,” you said and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing yourself off him and biting your lip.

“You’re such a tease, I swear!” he scolded with a laugh and moved forward to wrap you in his arms and kiss you again. Then it was he who leaned closer to you, and whispered, “Next time I’ll take my sweet time with you, Sweets. You’ll cum more than me.” 

It wasn’t just words, it was most definitely a promise, you realised as you felt yourself getting aroused again. You searched for his lips again and you made out for a few more minutes. Sometimes soft kisses, sometimes desperate ones, enough to pull at each other’s hair –you loved pulling at his hair.

“We better get back,” you said, pulling apart from a kiss as you realised the weather was going dark again. You were not eager to walk in a snowy forest in the dark again, fearing whatever kind of memories it could trigger back. The same kind you had been trying to bury so deep inside your mind the past few days that if you allowed them out, they might break you appart. You were not eager to cry, especially not after your first time with Sirius. 

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” he asked with a pout, tightening his grip on your waist. 

You looked around, and he was quick to see the anxiety in your face, “It’s kind of getting dark.” 

If he hadn’t heard the falter in your voice, perhaps he would have teased you further. Instead, he nodded, “You’re right, they might come looking for us and then we’ll actually be in trouble” he added with a grin. 

“As if that’s ever bothered you,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips before separating from him and swimming towards the edge of the small pool. You used your hands as leverage to raise yourself from the water. 

Sirius let a low whistle from behind. “Ugh, you’re such a dog!” you scoffed while trying to hold your laughter. You were sure he had done it to piss you off. 

“Just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend,” he said casually, and you kicked some water towards his face. 

“Fuck it’s cold,” you said as you got out and covered. yourself with your arms. Sirius was out in a second, he placed his coat –technically Remus’– over your shoulders. 

“Wait! It’ll get wet,” you said as you removed it and turned around to hand it forward, Sirius was looking at you with loving eyes, and you couldn’t help but blush. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t care.” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “But I do, hand me your wand, please.” 

He was quick to summon his wand in the same way he used to summon a broom and then handed it over to you, brushing his fingers with yours. You used a warming spell to dry yourself as quickly as possible and handed it back to him, he allowed his fingers to linger on yours before doing the same. You shrugged off the coat while you walked to the rock in search of your undies. 

“Looking for this?” he teased, there was mirth in his eyes as he dangled your knickers in the air with one finger. 

You were covering your chest with one of your arms and he was looking at you with that mischievous look of his. You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him. He extended his hand your way and when you reached to grab them he pulled back again, dragging them to his face and giving them a deep and long sniff. 

You looked at him aghast and actually laughed, “You really are a dog.” 

“And you’re my pretty vixen, aren’t you?” he said with a smile and threw the knickers your way. You caught them easily and shook your head. 

“Vixen am I not?” you responded with a teasing smile and turned around. And in one of the boldest moves you had ever done, you leaned down, exposing your ass to him as you slowly, and dreadfully sensually –or as sensually as you could muster– slid your knickers back on. 

“That’s not fucking fair,” he said as he adjusted his –now tighter– boxers. 

“Suck it up,” you said simply and finally stood straight, leaning down to take your bra and putting it on quickly. 

You reached for your shirt –technically his– but he already had it in his hands and held it over your head, helping you put it, even with your back still to him. When the shirt was fully on, he dug his hand underneath it and squeezed you closer to him. Burying his face in the nape of your shoulder. “Biggest tease ever,” he mumbled into your shoulder. His shirt smelled delicious, like you and– and Remus, fucking hell Sirius, stop it, he thought.

“I’m only letting you hug me because you’re warm.” 

He teasingly pinched your side. “Lie to yourself all you want, Starshine. You love having my arms around you.” 

You hummed in response and stayed like that for a bit. “Sirius?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You still haven’t put on a shirt, have you?” He grumbled something akin to no. You laughed and squirmed away from him, leaning in quickly to grab his shirt and throwing it at his face. “You’ll catch a cold, you dumbass.” 

He caught it quickly and put it on, “would have been worth it.” 

“It wouldn’t have,” you retorted. “I wouldn’t be able to cuddle you if you were sick.” 

“I see, you want to cuddle me more then,” he teased. 

“You were the one clinging onto me earlier,” you sassed in return and pulled your pants up. “Could you pass me the jumper?” 

He grabbed Moony’s jumper and threw it your way, you were quick to pull it over your head and then walked towards the rock to put on your shoes and socks. After that, you took both coats from the rock and passed him over the one he had thrown over you while wet –that you had half dried with a spell– and you put on the one you had brought. 

Once you were ready Sirius gave you a short smile and walked towards you, reached his hand towards you and intertwined your fingers, then tilted his head as he motioned for you to follow his lead. Sirius didn’t let go of you at all on the way back, who would have thought he was a romantic?

Except, Sirius wasn’t glued to you just because he didn’t want to stop touching you, but also because he had seen how anxious you’d gotten at the prospect of walking in the snowy woods at night, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel anything than pleased, so he made sure to never let go of you. Not while you walked through the forest, not while you walked through the open fields, and not even when you opened the door to the house. 

“James, you can’t say that in a letter,” Remus said with an exasperated sigh. Both boys were sitting in the living room, James had a quill in his hand and was furiously crossing out something on a piece of paper and Remus was looking absolutely defeated like he both couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with James anymore. 

“But why not?” James asked with a frown. 

“Lily doesn’t even like Qudditch. And you said ‘in your eyes I see the goalposts of my dreams’, that’s objectifying. Not to mention how you said she was a Quaffle that you wanted to chase earlier.” 

“But I would follow her to the ends of the earth.” 

“That’s actually much better,” you said from the door with a smile, Sirius was trying not to laugh at both James and Remus’ relieved sighs when they spotted you. “Although a bit tacky, she might like it.” 

“Thank Godric you’re here,” Remus spoke. Meanwhile, James scribbled that one line from earlier. “Where were you, anyway?” 

“In the fae pool,” Sirius responded with a small, pleased smirk.

“Oh, cool,” James said, Sirius’ tone completely flying past his head. He turned to you. “You liked it? You were there a while.” 

“Oh, she loved it,” Sirius added and you elbowed him. 

“You’ll help me, right?” James asked, oblivious to the interaction that had just gone through, too immersed in his struggle to get the letter to look perfect, Remus had made him throw most of the things he’d written thus far. 

But Remus, even though exasperated, wasn’t nearly as oblivious as James, and he was quick to catch on to your interactions. The way you elbowed Sirius, the way he was looking at you, your swollen lips and Sirius’ smug –yet flushed– demeanour. He knew that look, he hated that look. Back in the day, it had only reminded him of how out of reach Sirius was. 

Today though? He didn’t even know how the fuck to feel. The image of the two of you all over each other in the thermal pool was looping over and over again in his mind, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever imagined. Fuck, he wished he had known, he wished he had taken the cloak and seen it happen with his own eyes. But at the same time, there was a pang in his heart, as if the wolf was reminding him: they’re not yours. 

“Yeah sure,” you said, leaving the coat you had on the hanger and walking towards both boys, you kneeled down in between James and Remus. She smells like sex, Remus thought as you approached, the barely visible hickey on your neck too obvious for someone who knew you so well. He focused his gaze on Sirius, who looked really excited and sighed, standing up. 

“I’ll go get a book,” he said as he stood up. 

“I’ll come with,” Sirius said with a smile. He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell Remus all about it, well not all about it, but he definitely wanted to tell him how amazing you’d been. 

“No, it’s fine, it won’t take me too much–” 

“Nonsense,” Sirius said and walked behind Remus towards the staircase. 

You gave both boys a short wave and then focused on James’ letter, now understanding why Remus was so done with James. 

“Okay, what exactly do you want to say in the letter, James?”  

“That I miss her a lot, that she’s stunning and gorgeous and that I want to see her again soon, and I want to invite her over too. Well, her and everyone.” 

“Okay, and what does the quidditch pitch, the balls and all this gibberish about chasing and catching and keeping have to do with that?” 

“Ugh… well-” 

“–Exactly. You don’t need any of that,” you said simply. “Tell me, what do you like about Lily…” 

It was then that your voices faded out completely and Remus was forced to focus on Sirius’. “When she touched the water, it turned into hundreds of different colours, it was stunning!” 

“Yeah?” Remus asked, trying to distract himself with the books in James’ massive library, he was reading and rereading through the titles and Sirius continued talking about it. 

“You should have seen it, Moony. The rainbows on the silvery water, it was like nothing I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of things…” 

Remus hummed simply in response, pulling out a book, reading through the front cover, and flipping a few pages. The wolf inside was clawing at him, telling him to get angry and to snap at Sirius for taking what was his. His Vixen. His Padfoot.

 “For fucks sake,” he muttered when he realized he had picked up one of those spicy romance novels you claimed he would be the cover of if it was about pirates. 

Thankfully, Sirius was too busy talking his ear off to hear what he’d said. “I swear, it had never been like this Remus, and you know I’ve been with plenty of women before…” No matter how much he tried, it was not easy to ignore Sirius’ rambling. “It was as if I had been bewitched. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had used fae magic on me, but she doesn’t have any.” 

“She has charm,” Remus said with a sigh, “just not the one that comes along with magic.” He placed the book back on the shelf a little too forcefully and looked for a different title. 

“It felt incredible.” 

“Sirius,” Remus warned. 

“She’s amazing, I didn’t think she would know but the way she–” 

“SIRIUS!” 

“What?” he asked with a frown. 

“You think she would like you talking about it?” 

“You’re her best friend, my best friend, it doesn’t count.” 

“It does,” Remus said, turning to him now, a different book in his hands. He had enough images filling his mind without Sirius’ explicit tales. “And you’ve never been this specific before either.” 

Sirius huffed, “As if you hadn’t gone around kissing and fucking Alice just months ago.” 

“What does she have to do with any of this?” 

Yeah, what does Alice have to do with any of this? Sirius wondered himself. 

“Well– just that. You were kissing her at the Halloween party like you were eating her face off, and– I never told you off about it.” 

Remus scoffed, “She kissed me at that party. In public, I didn’t go around talking about it, not about how great it felt or how incredible she felt, or how much better she was than anyone else I had been with before.” 

Sirius swallowed, if he didn’t know better, he’d say Moony was jealous. But more important than that, he was irked by the idea of Alice being so incredible for Remus. “Well, if I don't tell you about it, then I’ll tell Prongs, I bet he’ll want to listen.” 

Remus sighed, exasperated. “Sirius, that was your moment.” He squeezed his eyes as he let out a breath. “You and her.” Golden brown eyes locked on steel grey again, “A special moment, a wonderful moment.” He had a hard time saying “wonderful”, Sirius noticed that too. “And I’m happy for you, truly.  For the both of you, it’s obvious you deeply care about the other, I can see how freaking in love you are with one another from kilometres away but– and I cannot emphasise this enough– I don’t need images of my two best friends fucking in the fae pool in my head.” 

And he really didn’t need them, there were enough of them by now. 

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Sirius stuttered. “I didn’t– I think I get what you mean,” he hadn’t liked the images of Remus fucking Alice either. Those had pissed him off, unlike James when he was descriptive of what he had done with Lily, he didn’t mind hearing those as much. “Do you think she’ll forgive me? I’ve gone and opened my big mouth, and it’s been hours since– Godric, I’m a total asshole.” 

Remus sighed and shook his head, “I don’t think there’s much you could do that she wouldn’t forgive,” he said honestly. Not if you love him like he knew you did. “Besides, you’ve been forgiven for much worse things.” Sirius tried not to recoil in his seat at the thought of the incident with Severus. 

By the time the two got back, you had already made a decent draft for Lily’s letter with James and he was looking for a fresh piece of parchment to write it with nicer handwriting. 

“Found your book?” you asked when you spotted Moony by the stairs. He showed you a book in response. Sirius came behind him, he held a small stack of books in his hands. 

“What you got there, Puppy?” 

“Wand lore,” he said with a smile. “I thought perhaps there’s a way to fix your wand, or if you decide to actually use Nina’s–”

“Sirius!” Remus and James reprimanded at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” you said simply. “I get what you’re trying to do,” you said simply and took one of the books from his hands. Opening and sitting on the armchair, not on the sofa, but on the armchair, where no one else would be able to sit. James and Remus threw Sirius a look and he mouthed a sorry while you focused on the book. 

It was actually a really interesting book, enough to drag you away from those sad thoughts. 

“Do you want to play Monopoly?” Sirius suggested after a while. 

You yawned in response, “Maybe sleep?” 

“Sounds great, you coming?” He asked Remus.

“No,” he said simply. “I’ll take the guest room today,” he added. Everyone turned to him with a frown. “Developed a bit of a sore throat, wouldn’t want to pass it on to any of you.” 

Remus had never, in the entire time that you’d known him, developed a sore throat.

“Have you taken something?” You asked, concerned. “Is it maybe a Moony thing?” 

“It might be just my screaming from the game earlier, but I’d rather not take any risks.” 

You frowned, unconvinced. “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” He nodded. “We’ll miss you, Rem.” 

He swallowed at that. “See you tomorrow.” 

Remus did not need any more torture. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together if you cuddled all over him like you often did before turning. Either to tease him or just to talk. The idea of the three of you resting on the same bed, was too much for him to handle tonight. Especially with all the thoughts already roaming in his head, the moon being so close wasn’t of help at all.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Does anybody have some water? GC just got spicy! Hope you liked this chapter, I wanted their first time to be special, and somehow I ended with the softest Sirius ever, he's such a sweetheart, my heart will explode

Read more Marauders Fiction

[alotofpockets]

Chelsea vs Arsenal | Katie McCabe x Chelsea!Reader

Where you and Katie navigate dating the opponent

A/n: thank you @scribblesofagoonerr for some ideas to help me write this one :)

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

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You had been dating Katie for only a few months when you had first played against her. Chelsea vs Arsenal had gotten a whole different meaning now that you were dating someone on the opposing team. 

The match in Stamford Bridge was successful for your side, a 3-1 win. The match had definitely not started great for Arsenal, a delay due to a kit issue and then having to play in your team’s socks. You felt bad for Katie, cause you knew that if it was the other way around you'd be pissed about the socks and disappointed by the loss.

So, when the final whistle had blown, you tried to find your way over to Katie. You had told her she played well, and that she should be proud of the performance she gave. Then after a quick hug you made it around the pitch shaking hands with the rest of the players. 

Even in the changing room when your teammates were joking around about Arsenal having to buy socks from your fanshop to play in, you respectfully kept quiet.

There was a day between that match and seeing Katie again. Over text she had been a little bit distant, but you understood she needed a moment. She had been the one to invite you over after, and things went back to normal.

However, things were different when it was the other day around. When you fell to your knees with tears running down your cheeks after Arsenal defeated you, Katie was nowhere to be found.

Of course you realised that there was a difference between a league match and cup final, but still it would have been nice for Katie to return the favour. Some Arsenal players had come up to shake your hand, pat your back, or give you a hug, but Katie was only celebrating their win.

It was Niamh who eventually scooped you off of the ground, and hugged you tight. The two of you walked off the pitch together. You took one look back at Katie celebrating with her teammates. “You okay?” Niamh checked in, “I'm happy for her, I really am. It just would've been nice if she had come to check in with me at some point.” Your teammate nodded in understanding.

Not only had Katie not checked in after the match, you also hadn't heard of her since yesterday. You had seen the stories and posts of her team celebrating, so you realised she was probably hungover, but that wasn’t an excuse right? After yet another post of Arsenal lifting the cup, you turn off your phone with a sigh.

You're not sure how long you've been sulking on the couch with some movie you hadn't been paying attention to on the tv, but you're taken out of it by the sound of your doorbell. On the other side of the door stands Katie, clad with a cap and sunglasses. Definitely hungover you thought, which was only fair of course, if your team had won you probably would be as well. 

“Katie, what are you doing here?” The girl lets herself in, and pecks your cheek. She lets herself further into your home, so you close the door behind her. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, so I thought I would just drop by. 

You lift up your phone to show her the black screen, “I turned it off. Your celebrations were all over my feed.” Katie laughs, “Yeah, we had quite some fun. No hard feelings, right?” You knew you had to communicate your feelings, but you were also a little bit angry with Katie, so you didn’t think you’d be able to communicate them in a healthy way. Still you tried. 

“Why are things different?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper. Katie’s brows furrow, “What do you mean?” After a deep breath all the emotions start flowing out. “When we won I was there for you, I checked in with you, and made sure to let you know how well you played. Where were you when I was on the losing side?”

“Baby, I-” Katie starts, but you stop her. You weren’t done sharing your feelings. “I get that you won the cup and all, which is bigger than just a wsl match, but shouldn’t that mean that I needed the comfort more? I was bawling my eyes out on the pitch, and you didn’t show up to check on me once. It was Niahm who eventually got me up and dragged me off the pitch. Where were you when I needed you?” The tears you were holding back, started falling freely down your face now.

Katie had taken off her hat and sunglasses during the time you were sharing your feelings, to let you know she was seriously listening. Her heart broke when she realised that she had hurt your feelings. “I am so sorry babe. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, or make you feel like I didn’t care.” Her words sounded sincere, and you couldn’t find a lie in her eyes either. 

“I promise I will do better. I’ve never dated someone on the opposing team before, and while I know that isn’t an excuse, it is something I am definitely still getting used to playing against each other. Thank you so much for telling me how I made you feel, so I can make sure to never make you feel this way again.” 

You wipe away your tears as Katie puts her hand down on your knee. “I am really sorry. I should have been there for you.” You nodded your head slowly, “I just felt so alone out there. I thought you’d be there for me, like I had been for you.” 

Katie pulled you into a hug, hoping to offer you some comfort. Some comfort that she had neglected to give you on the pitch yesterday. “I promise that I will never let you feel that way again.” She placed her hands on your cheeks, “We are a team too, and I need to remember that.”

You fell back into her arms. “Alright. All I need is for you to be there for me.” She placed a kiss onto your head. “I promise I will.” After a few moments of comforting you, she realises that the TV is on. “What are we watching?” She asks in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You glance over to the TV, “I have no clue actually.” You chuckle. Katie reaches for the remote, “Let’s watch something we both want to watch then. Any comfort movie you would like to watch right now?” You cuddle further into Katie’s side and tell her one of your comfort movies that you’d like to watch. 

In the comfort of your girlfriend’s arms, you knew that you were going to be alright. You just had to navigate this new world of dating your opponent together.

-----

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[mumms-the-word]

Ascension, Return

Pairing: Gale x You (Reader POV) Summary: You watch as Gale restores the Crown of Karsus and temporarily becomes a god before disappearing to return the crown to Mystra. And you can only hope, now that he is a god, that he will return. ao3 link A/N: I was thinking the other day about how in the ending for an Origin run for Gale, regardless of how he plans to deal with the crown business, he always shows up as God!Gale in front of Mystra before agreeing to hand over the crown or deciding to stay a god. And it got me thinking...wouldn't a romanced Tav who is expecting him to give up the crown see him ascend? So anyway I wrote this to get those thoughts out there. As usual pic of my Tav Dani because I keep forgetting to ask to borrow people’s better pictures

It doesn’t take long for you and Gale to make plans to retrieve the crown from the depths of the Chionthar River. The sooner you get this over with, the better, you think, and yet something about this endeavor has you on edge. You secretly wish you can just leave the crown down below the waters…but then, anyone could get it down there, with the right spells or the right technology. You can’t risk that.

You don’t want it in Mystra’s hands either, but what choice do you have? She, at least, is a goddess interested in balance, neither evil like the Dead Three, nor entirely good and thus subject to extreme corruption. There’s no telling what she’ll do with the crown, but she has offered one thing in exchange—a cure for your lover’s affliction.

He’ll be free of the dark hungering orb at last.

It’s enough to convince you. You retrieve your worn bedrolls from the Elfsong and shoulder your pack, ready for your next little adventure—a small boat ride to the other side of the river, and a few days spent with Gale as he searches the murky waters.

You join him on the banks of the Chionthar, well away from the bustle of the city as it is trying to rebuild, watching over him as he sits, eyes glazed with concentration, guiding simulacrums to walk the riverbeds and floors of the river, combing through the mud for the crown. He could have let his simulacrums search without him guiding them, but he wants to be sure, to search closely. He doesn’t want to waste his time turning away simulacrums who bring back scraps of metal, shrapnel from the Iron Throne, or bits from the carnage of the fight against the Netherbrain. So he looks through their eyes, seeing nothing for hours but hazy water, mud, and river plants.

Though you long to lie back and watch the sails of fishing vessels drift by like clouds on the breeze, reveling in a hard-won moment of peace, you don’t want to miss a moment where he might need you. You do not want him to be caught unawares by some curious animal, or worse, a lingering enemy. So you sit and watch, your stomach twisting into knots as you face what you know will be inevitable—the moment when he finally finds the crown.

It takes all of two days of searching. After hours upon hours of looking, he stiffens, his physical body reacting to something beyond your sight, and you know at last that he has found it. You both stand as his simulacrum emerges, dripping water, with the cold bronze of the crown in its hands. 

The Crown of Karsus.

It’s so much smaller than you remember. When you faced it on the top of the Netherbrain it had easily been the size of a large carriage. Here, on the banks of the Chionthar, it’s no bigger than a normal crown. It looks innocent. Harmless.

But you know better.

The power it releases…you are no stranger to it. You readily recall the metallic taste on your tongue as you drew near it atop the Netherbrain and the way its very aura tried to drive you to your knees. Its power is weaker now, pulsating from the bronze metal like a faint heartbeat, but you know that it won’t stay that way.

You glance at Gale, wondering what you’ll see in his face. Dark hunger, perhaps, or something bittersweet. Reluctance, dread, or tired resignation. But his expression is surprisingly neutral. He doesn’t step forward to take the crown just yet. Instead, he studies it with his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose and turning to look at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course,” you say. “Always.”

“That’s gratifying to hear. It will take me some time to restore the crown and the Netherstones to their original state, fit enough to give to Mystra. The process will be necessarily delicate, given the orb I carry. I should ask you to keep a safe distance. A city’s worth of space, perhaps, just in case, but—”

You cross your arms. “I’m not leaving your side, Gale. I’m here with you, for good or ill.”

He smiles then, as much relieved as he is amused and resigned. “I know. I expected as much. But I thought it best to offer or warn you regardless.” He takes a deep breath. “Very well, then. We stay together. I just hope you’ll be patient with me.”

You reach out and take his hand, threading your fingers between his. “I will be. I’m here for you. Take all the time you need, my love.”

He gives you a grateful look, squeezing your hand affectionately before leaning in to brush a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. You let him pull away, slipping out of reach, and watch with bated breath as he steps forward to accept the crown, the mark on his chest glowing brighter and brighter as he nears and finally takes the crown in his hands.

You don’t know what you expect. A light show, perhaps. A wave of dark, Netherese magic, or a black hole effect. You steel yourself to the fear that he will simply evaporate or fall to his knees in pain.

But nothing spectacular happens, aside from his mark glowing brightly. To your eyes, the crown acts as little more than a normal crown. To him…

You see his chest expand with a deep breath, the orb flaring brighter, watch him blow the air slowly through his lips, his face tense. But without the tadpole in your heads, you can’t guess at what he’s thinking or feeling. He closes his eyes, simply breathing, concentrating. Fighting, perhaps. Wrestling with some unseen force. The glow on his chest dims slowly until it is only a faint purple tint on his skin. Only then does he finally tighten his hold on the crown and turn back to you.

You get the sense that he has just won a silent, unseen battle within himself. It occurs to you too late that putting the crown and the orb in close proximity might actually hurt him. But it seems that the danger has passed...for now. If he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.

“Come,” he says. “Let us make sure we’re a safe distance from the city. Just in case.”

His words don't inspire confidence, but you say nothing. You merely follow him back to your camp further up hillside. You know he has work to do.

———

You give him time. That’s all he asked for. Time to concentrate on the magic. Time to manipulate threads of the Weave. The Mystran Weave and the Karsite Weave. Sometimes you think you understand what he’s doing, but more often than not, you don’t. The magic he is performing is beyond your comprehension, guided by notes in the Annals of Karsus which lays open in front of him. You suspect some of it comes innately to him, an understanding born from carrying Netherese magic for so long. The rest must come from Karsus himself, written down as instructions or incantations. You give up trying to understand and simply make yourself useful. Or you try to, anyway.

All you can really do is linger nearby, keeping an eye out for anything that might interrupt his work. You barely interrupt him yourself, save to place some food and water near him with a soft reminder that he needs to eat to keep his energy up. He’s not a god yet, you tease, but the words taste sour on your tongue.

Yet. But soon.

You don’t feel ready for it. You know it’ll only be temporary. You hope so, anyway. But you’re still not ready.

The day passes by without you noticing. Gale sits with the crown, working, weaving, an illuminated aura around him filled with heavy magic. You leave him to his work as the sun moves slowly overhead toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, red, and purple. You lay down to watch the swirls of violet and indigo magic that gather around him as night falls, until in your exhaustion, you close your eyes for a moment to rest.

You don’t know when you drifted off to sleep, but you’re awoken in the early hours of the morning by his hand on your shoulder. You stir, blinking groggily up at him.

“It’s time,” he says softly. He helps you sit up, hands lingering on your arms, your hands. The crown isn’t with him, but sits on top of his pack several feet away. “I’ve done all I can. The stones and the crown are together again. Functionally the crown is complete, but…there is one last step I need to take.”

He kneels in front of you, dark eyes searching your face in the dim firelight. No, you realize. Memorizing. You feel a sudden knot in your throat and though you are seated safely on the ground, it feels as though a yawning void is opening up around you, threatening to swallow you whole should you tip too far to one side.

This feels like a goodbye.

“Once I put on the crown, the magic of the orb will finally combine with that of the crown. And I will…change,” he explains quietly, while you try to calm the surge of fear that grips your heart. “The magic of the crown and orb will become one and give me the power at last to meet with Mystra as an equal.”

An equal. He doesn’t say as a god. But you both know the truth.

You can scarcely breathe. You want to trust him. You want so desperately to believe in him. And he is looking at you so lovingly, but the very air seems tinged with sorrow. Nothing is certain. Nothing save his love for you, and even then, the tiniest doubt worms its way into your head and your heart.

Once he is a god…will he even remember to come back to you?

“And then?” you ask, your voice no more than a whisper.

“And then…I will hand the crown over to Mystra. And hope she keeps her word.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I trust you, my love.” You use the words, saying them out loud, to dispel your doubts and fears. You do trust him. With your life, with your heart, with your all.

If only you could trust Mystra. Can she be trusted to cure him? Can she be trusted to let him return? And if he does return, can she be trusted to let him return unchanged? Chosen or not, will he still be Gale Dekarios, the man you love? You don’t know. But you hope so.

He smiles at you and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, his fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leans in for a kiss and you, selfishly, wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly to you as your lips move against his, wanting to never let go. You rise to your knees, following him as he tries to pull away, kissing him deeply, tangling your fingers in his hair, until at last you are both breathless and you have to hide your face in his shoulder. You cling to him, reluctant to let him go just yet.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper. “Whatever happens.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel the bob of his throat as he swallows with difficulty. He strokes your hair and your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your head. You can feel it in every touch and breath he takes. He doesn’t want to let go yet either. 

“I will, my love,” he whispers back. “I swear it.”

It’s enough for now. It has to be. You could delay this day for a thousand days and still never be ready to let him go. But you have to. If he wants to be whole again, free of the orb, perhaps even free of Mystra…he has to do this.

You reluctantly loosen your hold on him and sit back on your heels, meeting his dark-eyed gaze in the early hours of the morning. He takes your hands and lifts them to his lips, brushing kisses against your knuckles, turning your hands over to kiss the center of your palms. Each touch of his lips to your skin is a reverent confession of love and longing and it only makes your heart ache more.

Please don’t let this be goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he says.

You cradle his cheek in your hand, gazing earnestly at him, soaking in every detail of his handsome face, committing it all to memory. “I will, my love. I swear it.”

He smiles at you then, full of love and happiness. He steals one last kiss from your lips before finally pulling away and standing, taking several steps back.

You stand too, preparing yourself for what is about to happen, even though you scarcely have any idea. You expect some of what you expected before, with light shows and waves of magic at best, disintegration and death at the worst, but now it feels even more real. Even more likely. You don’t know what will happen, so you brace yourself for the worst, heart pounding in your throat, gut churning with dread, and hope, desperately hope, for the best, even though you don’t know what that will look like.

You hold your breath as he moves several paces away from you and bends to pick up the crown. This image, too, you commit to memory. The way he looks illuminated by the firelight, the lights of the city glimmering behind and below him, the stars glittering above him. The sight of him with the crown in his hands, contemplating it with an expression of deep gravity. The crown looks small and harmless, despite the sharp curls and the soft glow of the purple, orange, and pink Netherstones that are now set once more in the bronze. But he looks serious, regal even, with it cradled in his hands. Like a king mulling over the weight of his position and the choices that lay ahead. He is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. You wish this moment could stretch on forever, if only because it means not losing him to the crown. To godhood.

He turns to give you one last lingering look, your eyes meeting over the distance between you, before he slowly raises the crown to his head and settles it over his brown and gray locks.

The effect is instantaneous. A blast of magic blows outward from him, kicking up wind and dust and flashing bright enough to rival the sun. You cover your eyes, shielding your face, the light blinding you. Suddenly the air feels electric, tasting of metal and ozone, as though you’re about to be struck by lightning at any second. Wind swirls around you, picking up speed, a cyclone of power and magic with you caught in the edges. You struggle to stay on your feet, your body resisting the pull into the vortex. What little you can see is naught but a haze of magic, purple, blue, and inky black, rushing around you and mixing with the wind. Threads of blue and silver lightning dance around you, passing close enough to make your hair stand on end, shocking you when you take an unsteady step backward. The vortex of wind, lightning, and magic threatens to suck the very air from your lungs until, with crack like thunder, everything around you stops.

The air grows still. It is as though you suspended in time. Held fast by magic. Your ears are ringing with the sudden silence.

You cautiously lower your hand. You have to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, the sight of Gale causes a flurry of emotions within you.

He stands before you as something…more. A god in all but name. He’s taller, you swear he must be, or else his very presence makes him seem bigger. His skin has turned a shade of hard silver, his hair ashen gray. The mark of the orb stands out in stark black on his chest and when he turns his head to examine his hands, his body, you see splintered blue lightning crackling at his temples and down the sides of his face. His brown eyes now glow blue-white with magic, any trace of his former warmth consumed by the light of the power within him. He’s striking, awe-inspiring…

And you can’t help but fear him, just a little. 

On instinct you have the compulsion to kneel, but you don’t. You force yourself to stay on your feet and look at him, really look at him, and try to find the man you love behind this new godly veneer. He has to be in there somewhere. He has to be.

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and his voice is layered two or three times over with a strange echo, one that gives you unpleasant shivers. Even his voice carries tiny waves of power. You already miss the warm tones of his mortal voice with its Waterdhavian accent.

He flexes his hands, raising them before his face, his expression one of wonder and awe. With but a gesture, he summons threads of the Weave together in glyphs and effects you can barely make sense of, though you feel the thrum of magic deep in your chest and know, instinctively, that he is capable of snapping your mind with a thought or destroying you with a word. He smiles, and the effect is strange. He looks like himself but he doesn’t. Something about it seems wrong to you. Uncanny. Familiar and unfamiliar.

The pit of dread in your stomach grows.

But then he catches sight of you, waiting, watching breathlessly, nervously, hoping that he’ll remember his promise to you. His smile fades and for the briefest moment you catch a glimpse of the man you love. Even his blue-white eyes, shining eerily from his familiar face, can’t hide the love he has for you.

He lowers his hands to his sides. “It is done. The crown is fully restored once more.”

You nod. You haven’t the faintest clue what to say next. You’re still trying to make sense of the man-god before you.

He smiles again, and something about it is both patronizing, as though he pities you for not understanding, and sincere, an echo of his mortal kindness and patience. He presses a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d best be off then.”

“Wait—” You reach out as if to stop him and he pauses. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lower it to your side. "One last kiss, before you go. Please."

His smile softens. "I can deny you nothing, my love," he murmurs. He crosses the distance between you with a strange grace he didn't have before. Before he was elegant, but at times a little awkward. None of the awkwardness remains in him now.

You look up as he stops in front of you, his fingers curling beneath your chin the way he does when he wants to lift your face or guide your lips to his. You stare into his glowing eyes a moment before letting your eyes flutter closed. His lips touch yours...and it's different.

There's a magnetism there now that wasn't there before. You seem drawn in as if by gravity. He tastes of metal and magic, his skin cold but not unyielding. Your lips tingle with each kiss and the moment you seek to deepen the kiss—you gasp as a blue electric shock drives your mouths apart, your teeth practically rattling, your lips suddenly hot, almost burned. You press a hand to your mouth, looking up at him in shock, but he's just as surprised as you are. He seems unharmed, despite the tiny sparks of white-blue lightning still skittering over his lips.

"Ah...what an interesting side effect," he says, touching his hand to his mouth. The lightning calms. "Are you all right?"

You nod, rubbing your lips lightly as the numbness from the shock begins to subside and the tingling begins to fade. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Still, you're wary of trying it again.

He watches you, looking torn, before a new resolve settles his features. "Then I suppose that is my signal to go. The sooner I depart, the sooner I can return." He takes your hand carefully, moving it away from your face, and presses a cautious kiss to the back of your hand. His lips impart another, smaller shock to your skin, but this time you're ready for it. Your fingertips go a little numb, but you manage not to wince.

"Wait for me, my love," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I won’t be long."

You step back, giving him room to do whatever he needs to do, and watch as he begins to glow, brighter than your eyes can stand. You keep your gaze on his until the very last second, when the light grows too bright to stare at. You blink—and then he’s gone, disappearing in a shower of starlight that fades too quickly.

You are left alone in the cool night, with naught but a dying fire for company. 

———

You don’t sleep. You barely bring yourself to tend to the dying embers of your campfire and stoke it back into warm flames. After that, all you can do is sit.

And wait.

And wonder.

And pray.

“Come back to me, my love,” you whisper into the cool night air.  "Please."

You half-wonder if he can hear you. If, on some level, you’re praying to him, the newest of the gods. You don’t know if that thought comforts you or worsens your dread. How does he think of you now, now that his mind is that of a god, capable of seeing beyond the constraints of a mortal’s limited view? If he hears your prayers, does he think less of you, or love you more? Will he remember his promise, or will the power he now holds tempt him to break it? You want to have faith in him—you do have faith in him—but doubt creeps in despite your best efforts.

Come back to me.

You recall what it was like to wait for him at Mystra’s shrine at the Stormshore Tabernacle. How he had explained that time runs differently in the Outer Planes. How he would only be gone for a moment. Each second that had ticked by during that time felt like a year.

Now, sitting on the hillside, every second that passes feels like an eternity.

The fire crackles. The lights of the city begin to dim. One by one the stars fade out, hiding from view as the black of night begins to lighten into the blue hues of pre-dawn. And still, he isn’t back.

Wait for me, he said. And you will. You’ll wait as long as you have to.

But what if…?

No. You can’t bring yourself to put your fears into words anymore. Doing so will only make them seem more real. More feasible. There could be a thousand explanations for why he isn’t back quickly. You just have to have faith in him.

You get up and begin to pace. You start breaking little sticks and twigs into tiny pieces to feed to the fire, piece by tiny piece, just for something to do with your hands. You pluck blades of grass one by one or count the stars you can see. And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Your thoughts are your own worst enemy and you wish you had called an ally to come and sit with you. Even Scratch with his favorite ball would have been enough to quiet your heart and mind. But instead, you sit alone, the crackle of a fire the only sound to break the silence.

Your eyelids are heavy now and your body longs to drag you down into slumber, but you resist. You want to be there when he comes back. If he comes back. When he comes back.

You get up to pace again, rubbing warmth into your stiff fingers, amusing yourself with memories of him. His smile. His sly jests and silly puns. His hands on your body and his body against yours, yours against his. The smell of him, as much as you can remember. The way he looked during battles, magic crackling and swirling around him. The way he looked in your bed, fast asleep. Gale Dekarios in all his mortal glory, the man you fell in love with. The man you wish was at your side once more. 

Gods, but you miss him. You press your hands to your chest, feeling your heart beat beneath your palms. What is taking so long?

The first hints of pink and orange appear on the horizon as you turn to pace away from the fire again, your steps wearing a noticeable path through the grass. At this rate, you fear the sun will arrive before your love does. 

You contemplate how you’re supposed to face the whole of a new day alone when a flash of light illuminates the darkness behind you. You whirl, heart racing, to see a shower of starlight once more—and out of it steps Gale.

Mortal. Human. Alive.

“Gale!”

You fly into his arms, which he is already holding out wide for you, nearly toppling you both into the ground with the force of your embrace. You both stagger, but you don’t let go, and his arms around you are as fierce in their hold on you as yours are around him. He practically lifts you off your feet. You can’t put into words how much it means to you that he’s solid your arms—warm, breathing, alive in your arms.

“You’re back,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes and clogging your throat making it difficult to speak. You don’t want to sob and make it seem like you doubted him, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to suppress. “You came back.”

“Of course, my love,” he says soothingly, not yet relinquishing his hold of you. “You are everything to me. I could do nothing else.”

You untangle yourself from him to wipe the tears from your face and look at him, looking for any changes wrought by his visit to the Outer Planes or from his brief time at godhood. He looks like himself again, his lightly tanned skin flush with warmth and love, his dark brown eyes as rich and deep as ever. You comb your fingers through his soft hair, once more brown and shot through with hints of gray, rather than all over ashen as it was a while ago. Your fingers linger on his cheek, noticing for the first time that the dark vein-like threads that trailed from his eye to his chest are no longer visible. 

The mark of the orb is gone.

In its place are a series of faint scars in the same threads and shapes as the old mark, appearing just below his jaw and flowing down to form a circle over his chest. The tattoo-like color has faded away entirely and there is no dark bruise at the center of the circular marking. Any trace of Netherese magic is gone, leaving behind little more than scars faint enough to be missed by any who are not actively searching for them.

You trace the circular scar lightly with the tips of your fingers. “Does this mean…?”

“It does,” he says, pressing his hand over yours so that both of your hands are pressed flat to his chest. You feel his heart beating, his pulse perhaps a little elevated, but every beat strong and vibrant. “Mystra has cured me of the orb. Completely.”

You want to hate her, and perhaps you still do, and always will on some level. But in that moment you’re grateful and relieved too. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight, overwhelmed with happiness and relief and joy. Your love is cured at last. The threat of losing him to Netherese magic is at last put to rest. He is whole again. Restored. 

And he is yours. Not hers.

As dawn colors the sky overhead and spills pink-golden light over the both of you, you kiss him, reveling in the taste of him, in the warmth and weight of him, in his hands on you. Not a single spark of lightning threatens to drive you apart, so you deepen your kisses as much as you please. You simultaneously want to push him down into the grass and make love to him there and kiss him for an eternity you know you both don’t have and simply gaze at him in awe and wonder that even while he had godhood in grasp and a crown on his head, he gave it all up for you.

He gave up godhood for you.

You never realized you could love him more than you already did. But you do. Your every heartbeat sings love for him.

You lose track of time kissing him. It could be moments or hours. You don’t know nor do you care. But at last, when you finally pull away from him, it takes you a second to remember where you are, standing out on the hillside across the river from the city. The sun is rising over the horizon now, painting the world in gold and shifting the hue of the sky to a beautiful, cloudless blue. A new day is beginning. 

A whole future awaits. And it is yours to shape with your love at your side.

“What’s next, my love?” you ask. “Now that we have everything we both want.”

“Next? For us?” He chuckles and takes your hand, bringing it up to press a tiny kiss on your empty ring finger. “If you still want me, I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

“I will always want you, Gale Dekarios. Now and forever.”

“Is that a yes to planning the wedding? Because I’ll have you know that Waterdhavian weddings are quite the large-scale affair.”

You laugh, his humor clearing the air like the sunlight warming away the fog of a morning and the dew on the grass. “Yes. Come on, let’s find some food to eat and get started. I can’t wait to begin a new life together with you.”

“My love, that new life starts now,” he says, bringing you in for another kiss. You smile against his lips and allow yourself to be corrected. He is right, of course.

Your new life with him begins now.

[turcott3]

first strike

mark estapa x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, one kiss, fluff

masterlist

-

you sat anxiously at your vanity, teasing and touching your hair every minute until the hockey player texted you that he was in your driveway. when your phone lit up with the text your heart sank into your stomach.

“this is gonna be good.” you said to yourself, grabbing you wallet and heading out the front door. you opened the car door and got settled while you were greeted by the smiling brunette.

“you look great.” he smiles at you.

“thank you mark, you too.” you replied, his smile warming your heart. you and mark had been texting for a while. flirting, small talk, the whole shabang, but the two of you had never once hung out in real life, at least not alone. you’ve liked the boy for months and you’re finally on your first date with him.

“just so you know, i’m a great bowler.” he says, sparking an idea in your head. you had always loved to bowl with your family, and even won tournaments with them, so what if you could get this going a little quicker?

“oh i wish i was, i honestly suck.” you confess, totally lying out of your ass.

“hey no worries, i got you.” he says, ego booming through the roof of the car. the rest of the short drive was filled with your usual conversations, nothing out of the normal. you two walk into the bowling alley and make your way over to the counter.

“what’s your shoe size?” the woman asks the two of you.

“13 and she’s a?”

“6.” you smile.

“perfect, now let me ring you in,” she pauses, “your total is 24 even, are you splitting it?”

“no maam, im paying for it.” mark speaks up causing you to blush.

“thank you.” you whisper to him, his only reply being a smile. once you get to your lane you grab a 7 pound ball and he grabs a 12 pound.

“oh big and strong are we?” you laugh.

“what? oh this ball? if i had a 7 pound it would end up in the ceiling.” he laughs.

“woah okay mr macho.” you reply, giggling.

“okay i’m putting you as first, let me see what i’m working with here.” he says backing away and watching you bowl, purposefully shitty of course, but he has no idea. miraculously, you hit the two pins in the end.

“how’d i do?” you ask and he laughs.

“let me help you.” he says handing you the ball once it returned. you pick it up and you walk over to the lane, mark standing flush against your back. he grabs onto your wrist and lands his other hand on your waist.

“okay now bend your knees and lean forward. and don’t throw the ball, push it.” he say and you move together, picking up a spare.

“oh my gosh.” you say jumping and turning around as he smiles brightly at you.

“see it’s not so hard.” he says as you go sit down for his turn. he knocks 9 pins.

“damn look who’s winning.” you laugh and pick up your ball. it was show time. you walk up to the lane and send the ball effortlessly down the lane, knocking over 6 pins.

“see, i knew you could do it.”

“first to get a strike gets what?”

“a kiss.” he raises his brow.

“deal.” you reply and your heart sinks into your stomach. you couldn’t lie and say being around him didn’t make you nervous. a good nervous of course. you send the ball one more time hitting 2 more pins.

“your turn hot stuff.” you say patting him on the back.

“hot stuff?” he asks.

“mark im not blind, now go.” you laugh. much to your surprise he gets two gutter balls.

“you threw me off my game y/n.” he laughs sitting down next to you.

“i did no such thing.” you say getting up for your turn. as much as you wanted a strike, the idea made you nervous. you took a deep breath before walking up to the lane and sending the ball as fast as you could, knocking over all 10 pins. you turn around with wide eyes and jump for joy as he stands up and walks over to you, opening his arms to hug you.

“that was fucking awesome dude.” he says putting you down.

“it was pretty epic.” you laugh. once you’ve come back down you lock eyes with the tall boy.

“i was the first strike.” you say looking down at your feet.

“yep.” he replies, the building now feeling empty like it was no one but you two.

“hey look at me.” he says lifting your chin delicately with his hand.

“sorry i’m nervous.”

“why are you nervous?” he asks gently running his fingers down my arm.

“because you’re you. you’re tall, handsome….. let me not inflate your ego too much.” you laugh nervously.

“and you’re beautiful, smart, kind. i’ll inflate your ego any day.” he smiles, which you return as he finally closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. your stomach filled with butterflies as you melted into the feeling of his hands around your waist onto the small of your back. once you separate all you can do is smile at him.

“let’s finish this game yeah?” he says.

“yeah.” you say quietly. you go sit down in your seat, over the moon about what just happened, realizing you’re gonna have to tell him you lied about being a bad bowler sooner or later. once you finished the game that you had barely won, you exit the bowling alley and walk back out to his car.

“mark, i have to tell you something.” you say.

“what’s up? everything alright?” he asks buckling his seatbelt.

“oh yes of course. i just had to tell you that i lied about being a bad bowler,” you sigh.

“why?”

“because i wanted you to show me how to bowl, i wanted to get the ball rolling, figuratively, between you and i.” you say embarrassing yourself, “i also didn’t wanna hurt your ego too quickly.”

“y/n it’s okay, you’ve hurt my ego a tiny bit now, but i like you anyway. i was fully planning on kissing you regardless of if you were good at bowling or not. at least you getting the first strike makes way more sense now.” he laughs, reassuring you.

“thank you mark, i like you too….. and i have for a while honestly, and besides all that, you’re a good bowling teacher.”

“am i actually?”

“yes, you did perfectly.” you laugh.

“ego has been boosted again.” he states, placing his hand lightly on your leg as you pulled out of the parking lot. once you arrive back at your house he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park.

“thank you for tonight.” he says turning toward you.

“you too, i had so much fun.” you smile.

“see you tomorrow? lunch?”

“yeah sure, what time?”

“don’t know yet but i’ll text you when im on the way.”

“perfect.” you smile as he leans over to kiss you one more time.

“bye mark,” you smile placing a hand on his cheek once he backs away a few inches.

“bye y/n.”

-

[artdcnaldson]

alright so in relation to the thing where art shows pats sister porn videos as like "inspiration" for things they're gonna do together, aka he's slowly corrupting her by normalizing these things for her. so i have 2 additional ideas for this, am gonna send them seperately and then you can just pick what you wanna do first, cuz the order is really not important.

so 1st idea: so maybe he gets really into the idea choking her, cuz we all know, well-established, that he loves to feel that power over her. and it starts as just like a way he wants to keep her in place, so he starts sending her like porn videos where its concluded, just like a lose hand around the girls throat. maybe its not even a real grip in the first ones, just a caress? just to get her into it, not that she wouldnt do anything he asks anyway. but slowly the videos gets rougher, maybe it leans slightly into breathplay too, akin to plugging her nose, but like still on the gentle side. but she likes it, not just seeing it, she likes when he does it. it feels good to have him grip her, feels good to get lightheaded, maybe she even gets off on him controlling whether she gets to breathe for not…. so he keeps doing it.

and one day he loses himself a bit, he had a bad day on the court, lost a game he should've won in his sleep, so he's pissed off. but he decides that the best way to get it out is to fuck her pussy, just really pounding her, bullying her little cervix. honestly it's a miracle if she can walk tomorrow. and as he's abusing her little cunt he has a firm hand around her throat, they've done this many times before.

but he's so lost in himself and getting his anger out he forgets to really focus on her and she ends up getting lightheaded from him squeezing too hard. but with his other hand over her mouth to cover moans she cant tell him to ease up. she ends up passing out (briefly), it's nothing serious shes fine really, but it freaks him out deeply and unlocks a more tender side to him and his true care for her. it really was never his intention to hurt her, its different from when he first slapped her, where he also felt awful, but could tell right away that she was okey and into it. this time she just kind of goes limp under him for a minute, and it scares the living shit out of him, because he cant communicate with her right away. he cant check that shes okey beyond check her pulse and breathing, but hes like crying and cradling her when she wakes up.

he has to spend the rest of the evening holding her tight to him and assuring her that he never meant to hurt her. it takes her ages to try to get him back into gently choking her, cuz she really did like it. but hes too scared hes going to hurt her again…

again not super slutty, but i just love love y'all!!!! i need them to be in looooooooove <3

-🐞

GODDDD my babies <3 I’ve abandoned them for too long <3

He knows you have a thing for his hands, it’s why he isn’t surprised you’re so willing when he starts sending you the choking videos. You’re always playing with his fingers absently, tangling his hand with yours, smiling all giddy and sweet when he wraps a hand around your thigh. You fucking love them— he sees you staring at them so much. So of course your eyes light up when he actually wraps his hand around your throat, just resting it there for the first few times, until you get impatient and put your hand on top of his, until you make him squeeze.

He should’ve known better than to try it after the match against Columbia, when he kept double faulting and missing returns that should’ve been easy. Every time he hit into the net it just made it worse and worse. He didn’t smash his racket, which was a miracle, because he wanted to. He wanted to squeeze the hilt in his palm and hit and hit until it shattered.

You were there, because of course you were— in Stanford tennis tee shirt so tight that it had to have been from the children’s section. With black eyeliner, you’d written a pretty A on your cheekbone for him. He’s snapping at you, rolling his eyes like every word you say is a huge inconvenience. You’re infuriating him by being so nice, by coddling him.

Sitting on his bed, legs crossed beneath you. “You played so well, Art, really. He was just a really good competitor, and now you know where you need to improve for next ti—“

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” He snaps, and you swallow hard, but nod.

He’s mad. Of course he’s mad, he lost. But you can help! You always know exactly what he needs. Slowly, you peel your shirt off, and he swears under his breath as your bare tits are revealed to him— the prettiest fucking sight in the world. And you don’t say anything as you strip, like you both already know where this is going to go. Just tug off your jean shorts and panties and lay back on his bed.

“You can take it out on me.”

And he does. You’re already wet, because you always get wet when he’s mean to you, but it’s not enough to make you comfortable without prep. You whine and dig your nails into his shoulders as he stuffs you full of his cock without bothering to get you ready for it. “Just fuckin’ take it—“ You pant and try to relax, to open yourself up for him as he fucks into your cunt.

You’re loud— you’re always so fucking loud— he just needs you to shut the fuck up for one goddamn second and let him cum. It hurts and you’re whimpering, babbling and squeezing him with your tight little pussy. With each moan and grunt that escapes him, you get fucking wetter, you get louder.

The second his hand wraps around your throat, your eyes roll back and the prettiest moan escapes your lips. He tightens his grip and your cunt squeezes him, sucks him in deeper.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking slut for it, huh? You want it harder?” You nod, eyes half-lidded and hazy. Your moans are choked and pathetic until he covers your mouth with a heavy hand over your mouth, muffling every whimper and gasp behind a thick palm.

He watches your lashes flutter with each rough thrust into your cunt. He should’ve known when your grip on his shoulders went lax, when your soft moans went quiet. He feels it when you lose consciousness, when your arms drop by your side and you go completely limp beneath him, eyes rolling back behind your lids, lips parted and unmoving.

He panics immediately, slapping your cheeks softly, trying to rouse you back into consciousness. “C’mon,” he says softly, popping your cheek. “Hey, wake up—“

You’re still breathing, he knows that, at least. And he has the decency to pull out while you’re passed out, not that he can stay hard when he’s so fucking scared that you’re going to hate him. You’re warm in his lap, and he feels your heart thrumming beneath his palm as he holds you. You look so peaceful, so soft and young. He knows then why Patrick never wanted this— he was always going to fucking hurt you eventually.

It takes barely over two minutes for you to wake up, but it feels like a fucking lifetime. Your brows furrow and you blink slowly, bleary. There’s a scratchiness in your voice that fucking kills him. “Mmm… sorry—“ you manage. “Didn’t mean to.”

It kills him. Really fucking kills him. “No it’s my fault, I was… that was fucking horrible.”

“No, Art, it’s fine. I told you to take it out on me.” You give a weak smile. “Did you cum, At least?”

Art knows he’s a bad person. He wishes he was better, that he didn’t corrupt you to this extent. He wants you to have a normal crush on a normal boy who wouldn’t dream of taking you to that point. He wants you to care about your own body more than you care about whether or not he got off. He hates the way you worship him as much as he can’t live without it.